#WAIT I sent you some symbols before did u receive it??

[haebxtna]

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Symbolsfor the mun | | accepting! | @yokviboy

 💌I just think you’re amazing

{ look who’s talking??! YOU are amazing! I am really flattered becausehey, an amazing person says I’m amazing? Like.. wooooow! But seriously thankyou! You know I’ve always adored your writing and I love the scenarios youthrow her in. I am looking forward to their working relationship! Thank you so much for sending in!!

[kachuuyaa]

— ELYSIAN’S FUGITIVES.

06072021 ; g.i oneshot , gn!reader , bsd!reader

genre ; angsty fluff ig i dunno???

includes ; WISP!CHUUYA MAKES HIS APPEARANCE :D mentions of death, gore, gods, chuuya being cute (He Squeaks!) chuuya and reader meant to be REAL, literally just a first meeting between aether n you Italics is Japanese

synopsis ; The punishment from the gods is to be sent to Elysian, then banished into a never-ending cycle of paranoia.

author's notes ; U FINALLY MEET AETHER. wisp!chuuya is the best thing I have ever written ever I was mentally squealing because oh my oiguoidsp[';][][21P]2;\.,sdmNXK

You couldn’t count the days you have roamed Teyvat, it has been too long since then. For 60 years (it was 60 years, wasn’t it? You don’t remember anymore), you have not crossed any country’s border, only listening to their seemingly endless musings. You have never been out in the sea, tensity and uneasiness forming in the pit of your stomach whenever so. However, being isolated from the land the gods rule upon, has earned you a title. Your name is being whispered as a warning or a legend like a scripture formed with the wind. Some were afraid of you, while some respected you. It was pathetic, really, how desperate these people were compared to those in Yokohama. There was no point in dwelling in the past, now, was there? Despite receiving unwanted attention by passersby, you paid no attention to those who whispered your name like a mantra, spouting vile, vulgar assumptions about you. You realized-- quickly-- that they only think for themselves, not for the benefit of others. Wouldn’t that be the source of their demise? Well, you don’t linger on trivial topics for too long, it’s only fair for you to care only about yourself in a world you don’t belong in (you know you belong here now, yet you felt as if Elysian was better than this place they call home).

You have heard of the outlander who caught the wind, saving a foreign nation he seemed to have been in once, only, and you have let the news flow from one ear to another. Who were you to care? No one should catch your attention in a world full of insatiable people. Each step made the grass crunch, making your way to the foot of Dragonspine. Chuuya followed suit, and he settled himself on your head. You figured out that he could shapeshift, probably his punishment as well, yet so far, he has only shifted into a bird and a wisp. His wisp form wasn’t as elegant as you may think, a small, hooded figure encased in smoke-colored clothing, resembling the coat he used to wear. On top, there was a small black X-shaped symbol in the middle of his chest. Around his small form were orange particles, that remind you vividly of Chuuya's ability. A little hat, one you were familiar with, was situated on top of his small head. It was the hat he was wearing during his time as a mafioso, you deduced as such. The tiny creature lets out small squeaks of content, nuzzling itself on your head; seems like he thought it was a good pillow. A chuckle of amusement escapes your lips, turning your head around to watch the scenery in front of you. Dragonspine was one of your favorite places to visit during your free time, snow piling on top of another, making the white mountain as beautiful as it is. However, you do not venture into Dragonspine, not wanting to risk your life for creatures who seem to always take your time.

As much as you hate to admit it, you have most likely killed more hilichurls than you ever killed back in Yokohama. The songs of relentless, snow-covered winds never fail to make your unease and worry falter, even for a moment. The glacial scenery of the mountain attracted your attention, especially your first visit here. A few snowflakes settled themselves on your face, melting due to the heat emitting from your body. If you had the chance, should you tell your friends about the scenery, they would love it too, wouldn't they? You know they would, however, how would you know so? They’re gone, and so is your attachment to anything but Chuuya. “Do you like the scenery, Chuchu?” soft taps on your head were his response, indicating that he was displeased with the nickname you gave him. He agreed nonetheless, sitting on the palm of your hand. He squirmed, looking for a more comfortable position, and stilled after a while.

Memories of the past have always plagued your mind, reminding you that you were alone, again. Despite the copious memories you have stored away, none will bring you back to the place you have regarded as your home. For once, you have felt safe, all the while knowing death follows you wherever you go. Death was the dark, hollow cloak you wore while walking the path of dread in your past life, hands coated with the blood of another, and your eyes held the burden you were forced to carry until the day you died. The amount of blood was enough to shatter the dreams children told you to believe in, you were holding on the thinnest thread, one soaked with blood, your blood, reminding you how much you have suffered and how you made others weak, on their knees, while keeping a straight face as you watch the life draining from their faces. You have learned that life was unfair, gods turning a blind eye to the generation you were put in, leading the people to be self-reliant, causing resentment and disrespect to be aimed at those who call themselves “gods”.

Did they even exist? You have heard, and read, tell of what the gods and goddesses have done to provide, to give, and to sacrifice. Did they give up? Were they satisfied with what they have gotten? Has their insatiable lust for approval and desire to fulfill their selfish, carnal desires quenched? Did they only long for what they have desired, using their power to prove themselves better among the world of mortals? Were they not the selfless, kind gods described in the books of old? Nevertheless, you had no respect for the divine. You only had yourself to depend on since the start. You controlled your own death, knowing that when you died, it was time. You could have stopped yourself from fading, though, but you were tired, you let it happen. And though you know that your death will be remembered, not in the history books, but in the Port Mafia, you will be forever remembered.

59 years have passed. There is no time to dwell in the past, all you have is the memories you swear to protect. Your fight with immortality has been futile, leaving you to bask in your own presence for 59 years. That is until Chuuya finally found you. And you? You found him. It wasn’t expected for you to know who he was, a mere spirit cursed by gods above to wander a world he was unfamiliar with. He was stripped of Arahabaki, leaving him with only his outermost ability, “For The Tainted Sorrow”. He didn’t mind, as well, Arahabaki resides within him, giving him a sense of dread, and leaving him with his identity that he can’t seem to solve. Arahabaki has forever stained him as blood stained your hands, giving him scars that will never leave him. In that life, and in the next. He had you, sweet, malevolent, outstanding you. Though he never voiced it out, he felt, well, complete, to say the least. And while feeling detached from not being completely human has affected him far too much, you were there to make him feel-- what did you make him feel, really? He can’t decipher his own feelings as his own identity. In all the years he has roamed this world as an insignificant wisp of the wind, he found himself tangled in another adventure with the “most insufferable partner aside from Dazai”.

Your footsteps were carried by the wind, walking to the City of Mondstadt, again, Chuuya on your shoulder, scanning the area for any enemies or the like. You were currently looking for food, choosing to shop in Mondstadt instead of catching wildlife. Each step has your coat moving from one side to another, boots making the grass crunch in every step. “Ne, Chuuya, do you want to buy pancakes from Mond?” you whispered, voice soft, only for Chuuya to hear. Said wisp only nods its small head, his little hood moving ever so slightly while he nods. Deciding that it would be best for him to rest, you put him in your breast pocket, his little head poking just a bit. Chuuya softly squeaked, nuzzling on the fabric, and opted to rest despite his unsaid protests. But before you could set foot onto the City Of Freedom, a high-pitched voice prevented you from doing so. “Hey!” they said, you whipped your head to the direction you heard it from, spotting a seemingly young-looking traveler, and a floating pixie-- wait.

Isn’t he the honorary knight? You thought to yourself, unconsciously cupping the pocket Chuuya resides in, feeling him squirm when he came in contact with your gloved palm. Instead of giving them a response, you simply stared at them, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Hi.” a simple, short greeting. Although you would prefer to ask the traveler some questions, that wouldn’t be necessary. You were able to decipher every detail easily, too easily, in fact. Aether, however, wasn’t fazed. He was well aware of how they described you, and how notorious you were due to appearance. Scoffing at the assumptions, he looked forward to meeting you. Perhaps he will look forward to his endeavors with you by his side, no? A star sent from Elysian would only brighten the mortal world, cursed with divine power and lonesome memories.

However, you did not know that a simple greeting exchanged on your first day of the meeting would bloom into something much more.

Ah, it seems that the show is starting once again, a different chapter, a different genre.

2021 © kachuuyaa. all rights reserved. do not steal and claim my work as your own.

[forever-rogue]

Prompt list 2: 173 and 194 with Oberyn please?! If you’re still doing them? -💫✨🌈 ps. Congratulations on your follower milestone! U deserve everything baby

Okay, soooo, perhaps this is me imagining this as Sunshine and Oberyn from INO. But totally not necessary!

Enjoy!

Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader ; warnings: soft smut (18+ Only)

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

You couldn’t help but stare across the lush gardens as you spotted Oberyn in the distance. He was taking a turn about the palace with one of his many advisors going over one thing or another, in deep conversation as his brow furrowed in concentration. He still managed to look better than anyone should have been allowed to. He was wearing robes of deep orange and gold today, barely tied at the waist, showing off his immaculate golden torso. His hair, now a mess of soft curls, was chocolate and golden under the warm sun, and suddenly you left much more flushed than before. 

You might have the privilege of calling him your husband, but he still managed to stun you in so many ways. Oberyn must have felt something, as he quickly lifted his gaze and found your eyes with his. A small smile tugged on his features as you offered up your own saccharine smile followed by a wave. Shooting you a cheeky wink, which left you hot and bothered more than anything, he turned back to conversation, as if he hadn’t just been shamelessly watching you. It wasn’t just a wink, you’d learned early on into your marriage, it was a promise of so much more. The heat was already pooling low in your belly as you turned back to the flowers you’d been tending to.

“Lady Martell?” you turned to find your handmaiden, Asha, watching you with an intent gaze, “is everything alright? You look quite...flushed. Shall I fetch you some water?��

“Please,” you gave the young girl a smile as she nodded and got ready to head to the kitchens. Her sweet innocence was enough to make you chuckle slightly, “I suddenly feel quite...parched.”

As you plucked and pruned the blossoms, you couldn’t help but think of all the sweet words and stolen kisses that had been exchanged between the two of you here. The gardens, one of your favorite places in the whole of Dorne, serving as a refuge for both of you needed a little break from the real world. 

It was where he had first professed his love to you. Where you had first told him you loved him too. Where he had first gently taken your face in his large hands, and pressed his lips to yours and kissed you until you felt like lovestruck teenagers. So many firsts had taken place in his sacred place, and it would always hold a special place in your heart. 

Just like your love had blossomed and flourished in this garden, so were your blooms and flowers, a beautiful symbol of your relationship with the prince. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hello, my Prince,” you grinned when Oberyn walked through the door of your shared bedchambers, a tired but happy grin on his face when he spied you on the bed, wearing nothing but sheer undergarments, “I’m so happy you’re finally ready to retire for the day.”

“My Queen,” his eyes, soft and honeyed in the soft glow of the candlelight, drank you as he seemed to perk up. You patted the space on the bed next to you, holding your arms out to him, “I would have retired to your arms much sooner, had I been given a chance. Unfortunately, it seems that duties sometimes must be attended to.”

“Of course, everyone wants a piece of the prince,” reaching for the lapels of his robe as you pulled him for a kiss. He smiled against your lips, easily melting into your touch as you dragged him down to lay on the soft covers, “luckily you’re all mine. And you know, I will always wait for you, my love.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” a contented sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at you from the soft, fluffy pillows. You ran a hand through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, just like he always enjoyed and he practically keened into your touch, “I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you so much,” you whispered back to him, “you are everything, my prince, and deserve the world. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I have done a lot of things in my life, some good, some great, and terrible,” he mused as you watched him closely, tracing a finger over his features before stopping at his lips, “but the best, by far, is getting to call you my wife.”

“Oberyn,” your heart felt warm, like it was about to burst with butterflies, “you are a poet in every sense of the word, but you mustn’t flatter me. I’m already your wife.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true, sunshine,” he reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “you have me - heart and soul.”

“As you have me,” you promised him, “always and forever - my moon and stars.”

“Sunshine-”

“For once in your life, Oberyn Martell, please be quiet and let me take care of you - let me love you,” you quickly silenced him with a kiss, swallowing up any words he had, “lay back and relax and be a good boy.”

"And who am I to oppose my wife - my queen?" he crossed his arms and tucked them behind his head as he watched you with a grin, "as you wish, sunshine."

"Firstly," your hands went to the singular button holding together his robe and unfastened it before traveling to his shoulders as you started to push it off. He sat up for a moment to help you, and soon the orange cloth was in a pile on the floor, "you were wearing too many clothes. This is much better."

Swinging a leg over his hip, you effortlessly straddled his waist, causing him to a small, pleasured sound of surprise. You took one of each of his hands in yours before bringing them to your lips and kissing each palm in turn. When you were done, you settled them on your waist as you pulled off your sheer top, leaving you as bare as him.

His grip on your waist sent sparks throughout your whole body, and you couldn't help but arch into his touch. 

Leaning down, you kissed him softly, gently, starting at his lips before trailing kisses along his jaw and down his glorious neck. 

"I love you so much," you whispered against his golden skin, kissing along shoulders and collarbones, making sure every part of his torso received some love. You traced along each silvery scar and mark, every freckle and sunspot, before bestowing them with a kiss. You loved every part of him - every last little bit - and you wanted him to know that. 

"Sunshine…" he whispered in your ear as you nuzzled against him, his own hands finding your backside and giving it a good squeeze. You moaned lightly, wiggling your own hips against his, as you felt his hardness against your already wet folds.

"Shhh," you raked your nails along the expanse of his broad chest, "let me love you - fully and completely."

He didn't argue further or so much as make a sound as you kissed down chest and stomach, stopping only when you got to the waistband of his trousers. Taking a moment to kiss his hips, you swiftly pulled down the trousers and let them join the pile on the floor. It was a quick job for you as you pulled down your own sheer bottoms and sent them spilling off the bed.

You could feel his warm, gentle gaze take you in and admire your form - it was nothing to make you feel self conscious or uncomfortable, but a look of reverence and adoration. 

"You are so beautiful," his voice was gentle as his hands skimmed your sides, leaving fire in their wake, "perfection, more so than any god."

"Gold and honey drop from your mouth my prince," you reached for his hard, weeping cock, running it through your folds before slowly sinking down on him. No matter how many times you'd had him, he still managed to stretch you deliciously, "Oberyn."

"You are so perfect," he whispered as you laid against him, wanting to feel as much of his skin on yours as possible, "feel so perfect."

"Mhmm," you murmured as kissed his back and he wrapped his arms around your waist. He slowly rocked into you, matching the languid movement of your hips as he had you. 

You liked evenings like this, when it was only you and Oberyn, and the world ceased to exist, even if only for a little bit. There was no rush, no urgency to get anywhere, and it was easy to get lost in the pleasure of him - every touch, every feel, every sound. 

Your lips barely parted as you made love, swallowing up each other’s moans as your hands roamed the expanse of your bodies. You were quite sure you could feel the love radiating from him and onto you as he smiled against your lips. 

"I've got you, Sunshine," he whispered as he peppered the side of your head in gentle kisses when he left your walls start to clench around him, "you can let go."

His name left your lips in a breathy whisper as you closed your eyes and buried your face into the juncture of his neck and shoulders. The tight coil in your belly snapped and that familiar wash of warmth flooded your veins as your release washed over you. 

His own was close behind as he spelled inside of you, coating your walls with his warm release as a moan of pleasure reached your ears. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, as he held you close and worked you both through your highs. There was no better feeling than being wrapped up in his arms, and if you could choose to never leave them, it would have been an easy decision. 

"Gods, I love you so much," you pulled back and beamed at him, nuzzling your nose with his before kissing again. He nodded in agreement before you slid off and laid on next to him.

"I love you," he pulled back the plush blankets and ushered you under them, following closely behind as he pulled you into his arms, "more than you will ever know." 

"My sweet prince," you snuggled into his chest, resting your head just above his heart and letting the steady beat lull you to sleep, "I love you too. Rest now - everything else can wait."

"You are everything," he promised with a toss to the top of your head as he closed his eyes, "my Sunshine."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[bitchiha]

hii can you write some detailed nsfw headcanons for kakashi or just write a smut fic i love your writings so i wanted to ask if u could do it or not!

Is it wrong to pick up strange girls at a bar? (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: you asked and you shall receive! The setting is based of A Little Death — the Neighbourhood. Just cause I liked the idea and I wanted to go with it, here’s a link to the song. The reader is basically a Kakegurui character but make it sexual intercourse <3 Kakashi wasn’t originally supposed to be a sub but I wanted to write sub naruto boys at some point so here it is.

Summary: Kakashi meets a mysterious stranger at a bar and things escalate quickly and he takes her back to his motel. After all, is it wrong to pick up strange girls at a bar?

Warnings: drinking, NSFW, sub!Kakashi, dom!reader, harsh degradation (male recieving) so i re wrote this five million times and I can’t torture myself with doing another edit of it so let’s say it’s edited half assedly

In the shitty little town you lived in the only exciting thing it had to offer was the bar.

It was a town used as a resting stop for travellers. People stopped for the night to recharge before continuing on their way to their actual destination in the morning. Many interesting people came in and out, but all the boring ones stayed put. There was no excitement in your family, in your friends, in your neighbourhood… the only time you ever felt even a lick of the feeling was when you were in that bar.

Not a lot of locals drank there, to them the idea of a public drinking place was disgusting and avoided it like the plague, even going as far as to try and ban the joint. To their disappointment, the bar was the main attraction to the travellers, making it difficult to shut down. The frequent travellers insistance to keep it open was solid proof for your thesis; it was the only good thing about this place.

You were one of the few locals that didn’t avoid the bar. How could you when the only exciting people you met were from that joint? Like that woman obsessed with being a bride, or the Taijutsu master in the green stretch suit, or that boy who declared to you that true art was an explosion!

Those were the kind of people you met there, the kind of people you wanted to be with. The only ones who could make you feel like you were breathing, feel like you were human — if that was even possible anymore. God, it felt like every day you spent in this town you lost a little more of your sense of self...

You’re sat there now. In the dim light of the bar on one of the cracked vinyl stools, toying with your empty glass. The bar tender would shoot you a look in a few minutes grunting to “either buy another drink or get out,” but if you were being honest, you didn’t have that much cash on you right now and you hadn’t intended to buy another glass. You see, you had planned to leave earlier with someone new you’d meet at the bar, but no one had yet to ignite that bubbling excitement within you.

You were beginning to get impatient, there was an undeniable need growing in you and it was clawing at your insides, begging you to give it a release. But Monday’s were always slow and you were starting to realize that you may have to wait a little longer than you could bare-

The door to the bar opened and your heart lurched with that desperate craving upon the sight of the man walking through the doorway. Just when you were about to lose hope, you were given your wish. Your body instantly perked up, drinking in that cool manner that he walked with; like he new he was something special, in whatever aspect that may be. He wasn’t flaunting it, no— rather he was just conscious of the fact. Confident.

He had unruly silver hair and the same green vest plastered to his body that the Taijutsu master you met did. He also had a headband on his forehead concealing one of his tired eyes. Upon further inspection you declared that the insignia was the symbol of the Leaf — so he was a shinobi then... He sat down a few chairs away from you.

Quietly, you counted four vinyl coated barriers between you and to your dismay, he had yet to notice you. Instead, he slumped against the table and mumbled an order to the bar tender. You turned your head to look at him again, your fingers tapping against your empty glass. Oh boy, just looking at him made your entire body thrum with that feeling, that exhilarating eagerness pumping through your veins… excitement.

You felt that familiar intoxicating passion swimming through your body a hundred times stronger than you’ve ever experienced before. There was that familiar bitter feeling between your legs and you clenched your thighs together. He was handsome — anyone could agree on that and you just couldn't wait to toy with him. 

Shifting like a curious cat on your barstool, you studied the stranger further. Your movement finally stirred his attention and he turned his head ever so slightly, looking at you for the first time that night. His expression echoed your own curiosity mildly before the bartender slid him his drink, ice clanking in the cup.

You were never one to be shy around strangers, that’s something everyone in the town disliked you for, among other things... But you didn’t think about that as you slid a seat over, giving him a cat-like grin. You chose him for your entertainment tonight, wanting to toy with his cocky attitude until you could swat him around with your paws like a ball of yarn. Like you did with all the ones before him.

“So you’re a Leaf Shinobi, huh?” You asked, taking advantage of his attention, watching him stir his drink. You perched your elbow on the table and balanced your chin on your palm.

“Yeah,” the silver haired ninja smirked a little at your interest, “why so curious?”

You shrugged, “You said it yourself, this bars the only exciting thing in this town. A girls gotta find some kind of amusement, don’t ya think?”

“So I’m amusing to you?”

“Mhm,” you chirped, glad he was entertaining you— albeit a little disinterestedly, but you could work with it... “now go on, what’s it like?”

He was silent for a second. Contemplating before dodging your question, coming off a little distant. “How ‘bout I buy you a drink?” He slid a seat over.

You took his suggestion with a grin, brushing off how he ignored your previous sentence, “Oh! What a gentleman!” You beamed before turning to the bartender, “a vodka and sprite.”

The bartender sighed defeatedly, unable to kick you out of the bar now that the stranger offered you a drink. You were always too damn chatty. The silver haired man snickered at your choice of drink, causing you to gasp at him in mock offense, making him crack the smallest smile.

“What are you laughing at?” You scoffed playfully, once again sliding a chair over. Your arm gliding against the sleek wood table as you did so. Taking your seat, the bartender counted a single chaired gap between his two customers.

“And what are you drinking?” Your voice teasing as your fingers wrapped around his cup and before he had the chance to process your actions you brought the liquid to your lips, tasting its contents and wincing dramatically, “God. Who let you drink that?” You sent an accusing glance at the bartender, who was working on your own drink.

He heard the accusation and lifted a finger with half hearted annoyance, “You’re dangling on my last nerve, y/n.”

So that was your name. Y/n. Kakashi decided he could have some fun real good fun with you tonight. From what you’ve told him, you’re a local in this town, but by the way you dressed he could tell you weren’t like the other people in this place. Wearing that tiny jean skirt and that little top, you were definitely just twenty-one, or maybe twenty-two and certainly not as conservative as the other villagers.

He let himself wonder, as his fingers soaked into the condensation of his glass, how any of them let you out in an outfit like that. Perched a barstool with your leg crossed lazily over the other you looked more dangerous than any enemy he had encountered today.

Before he knew what he was doing, his body was moving him to close the single chaired gap between you two. Sitting on the cracked vinyl, sliding his drink over with him, he simply shrugged at your question and deflected it with a new one.

“And who let you out in that little skirt?”

The two of you maneuvered through the damp halls to whatever room number was engraved on the rusty key Kakashi held (you finally learning his name after some prying.) He slurred something stupid to you as you stumbled along and tilted your head to laugh.

After some drunken fumbling, your beloved stranger managed to unlock the door, pulling you inside in the process. The room was as clean as expected for a cheap room in a shitty motel, but you didn’t bother studying it. You’ve been here countless times before.

You found yourself being pushed up against the door, as Kakashi reached for his headband, pulling it off as you worked at pulling his mask down, your painted nails grazing his skin. Once you tugged the fabric down and his headband clattered to the floor, you marvelled at the sight of his face in its proper glory, burying your hands in his hair as you did so. It was even more alluring in its barest form and there was another wave of excitement surging through your body.

Licking your lips you leaned forward, hands tangling in his hair to connect your mouths for the first time. Teeth grazed against teeth and tongues clashed against tongues in what seemed to be an equally matched fight for power. It was a breath stealing, desperate kiss that lasted for what felt like hours, but could have only been a minute. The kiss had been so invasive that there were sleek strings of saliva connecting your lips, but neither of you moved to wipe them away.

Instead you leaned your head against the wall, his face barely a hair from yours as you both panted. Then in a matter of seconds you were on eachother again, this time the man took to taking your clothes off. Slipping your top off as you began to climb out of your shoes, him doing the same. Leaving you in a bra and your skirt, he started grabbing at your thighs, hoisting them up as he began to move you to the bed. What an eager boy.

When he felt his knees hit the beginning of the mattress, he let his grip on you go, causing your body to fall back. Your arms still around his neck taking him down with you, your back falling onto the mattress as he towered ontop of you. He removed his lips from yours as he began to trail kisses up to your earlobe, tugging at it firmly before licking right up the shell of it.

“How many people have you done this with?” he spoke into your ear, it was a question he was dying to know. Was he gonna be the first? Maybe the second? He liked that idea, liked the prospect of using an all too curious girl for his own pleasure—

“Lots of ‘em, too many to count... but dont take it personally.” What.

He scoffed surprised at your statement, lots? How much is lots? Kakashi felt his ego take a little hit, was he just another person you used for your own desire... He had used many people for his own sake, but he had never had the tables turn on him, until now of course. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” The sound echoed through the shell of your ear and you giggled at the feeling and his voice came out more hurt then upset, which pissed him off even more. Oh how adorable, was the big, strong shinobi’s ego getting hurt?

“Well, You like excitement dont you?” You waited for him to nod an annoyed yes, “Good boy, so we’re on the same track here... Do you know what that’s like to live with a bunch of fucking prudes?” This time you didn’t want for a response, “None of them would even step foot in that bar. Not people like you though and when I saw you I could just feel it... the good fuck could get out of you. I’m gonna have so much fun, we’re gonna have so much fun.” He gave you a surprised look, your mask was slipping and your true colours were shining through and his reaction only egged you on to continue. Did he really think this was some sort of spur of the moment act, that coming here with him was spontaneous.. something special? Oh God, what an idiot..

You pushed at his shoulders, causing him to fall onto his back, allowing you to crawl on top of him. Straddling him, you let your hand to push underneath the fabric of your jean skirt. He stared wide eyed, shocked at how your demeanour was slowly changing. Is the idiot finally getting it now, is he finally understanding his place? “They would never do this. They’d never touch themselves, not like this...” Your fingers dragged along your slit, preparing to access your digits to access to your dripping slit. “But it’s so much fun isn’t, oh and it just feels so good.” As your digits slipped into your enterance your mouth fell open, letting a small moan carelessly fall as you began to push in and out of yourself.

All Kakashi could do was stare up at you. Holy fuck. Were you masturbating ontop of him? The motel room, the look you made, the lewd sounds, all of it.. all of it was like something straight out of the books he read and the fact it was happening to him in real time was beginning to make him short circuit.

“What, You really want to act all shy now, what happened to practically sucking my face off? You brought me back here to fuck, not to blush at me like a virgin.” You said, lifting your skirt with your free hand, giving him a picture to go along with the sounds he was hearing. Upon that sight he made the discovery that you weren’t wearing any panties. “I bet you think about this shit all the time, don’t you? Ngh — You like thinking about girls like this, huh? If you didn’t bring me back here with you, you’d probably be jacking off to the thought of me like some kind of pervert...”

He couldn’t help the red colour invading his face. When he was in bed with girls he was usually the one saying all the dirty stuff, so having you spew all this vulgarity at him was shocking. But what was even more so was the twitching of his cock in his excruciatingly right pants.

He could tell by the face you were making that you were getting close to your own release, the look of embarrassment on his face only fueling your desire even more. Fingers curling and filling your pussy fast and eagerly, thumb moving to flick at your clit. Your tongue was starting to slip out of your open mouth now and he watched the little dribble of saliva coursing down it, your eyes starting to lull to the back of your head — it was that look. That fucking look that he read a hundred times over in the pages of his novels. He felt like he was going to cum just staring at you. But, oh god — were you gonna cum? By yourself? Right now?

Finally being able to move his body, he grabbed your wrist from under your skirt, the lewd sound of your digits leaving your soaked core made his mind all the more foggy. You didn’t complain, the pleasure built up in your core was only intensifying with the anticipation that he was going to be the one between your legs now.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. No, it was too fun to toy with his confidence. “Huh, You think you can make me cum better then my fingers? Hm, Let’s hope I’m not disappointed.” Those words definitely pricked at his ego, but he didn’t have time to mull them over as you began to crawl towards his face.

“You know, you don’t really talk too much, or maybe it’s just cause your a fucking pussy whipped whore...” Kakashi’s face gets redder at the insult. Did you just call him a whore? And why did he like it?

Your breasts bounce in your bra as you moved further up his body. “Lets just see if your mouth is good at something.” You said with dramatic exasperation and before his brain could process it, your thighs were straddling the sides of his head, pushing your core right onto his face.

Kakashi’s reaction was a bit delayed, it was only when your skirt fell over your thighs, trapping him in like a curtain, that he registered the fact that you were now sitting on his face. That and the fact that your pussy was practically suffocating him with your impatience.

He had never felt this much desire to please a woman. You were being so intoxicatingly rough with him that he found his mind only swimming with thoughts of you. Y/n, y/n, y/n. The strange girl he met at a bar. The girl who fingered herself ontop of him and was moaning like a pornstar. The feeling of your wetness already dripping down his chin, ready to be tasted... All of it was tattooing itself into his subconscious.

“Do you need me to say go?” You spat impatiently in the most tantalizing tone, it caused Kakashi’s cock to stir again. However, the words snapped him out of his frozen state and he began to desperately suck at your clit, the wet sounds echoing off the jean curtain and he felt his hips involuntarily buck into the air at your taste.

You felt the movement of his bucking hips and it his embarrassment you refused to let it go. “Oh! So you are a pussy whipped slut? You act so confident but the minute I sit on your face you lose control, just like a good whore.”

As if insulting him turned you on, your mouth began to flow with the most sinful noises and for a second Kakashi thought he was trapped in some fucked up porno. When I’m reality that excitement that had been building inside of you had been finally getting an appropriate release and you were never one to hold back your pleasure.

It felt like your veins were gushing at this point, so much so it felt as though they could burst at any second. You were just so excited and his tongue was so good.. The muscle pushing in and out of your hole, his tongue brushing against your clit as he wriggled as far as he could into your pussy.

Faintly, behind the throbbing in your ears you could hear frustrated fists against the door. They were undoubtably an angry guest that had been awoken by your loud noises, probably a pervy old man too. But you didn't give a fuck and Kakashi was too busy trying to make you cum to care either. Soon enough the banging had either blended into the noise you two were already making or the perv gave up to go jerk himself off.

“You’re licking me like a fucking dog, you’re so desperate to make me feel good.. its fucking sad.” There was no mistaking the vibration of the mans mouth on your clit, he had just moaned. As if that weren’t telling enough you could practically feel the embarrassed heat of his face on the squishy flesh of your inner thighs.  

After another sinful noise barged past your lips you found yourself hurtling quite quickly towards your climax. Losing the little ounce of pity you had for mercilessly using Kakashi’s face, you began to grind onto it. Everything was beginning to feel more heightened now. The booming sound of your heart slamming in your chest, the throbbing of your veins, the feeling of Kakashi’s mouth sucking at your clit.

You didnt even bother to heed the man a warning as you came with a loud moan, all over his face. He wasn’t shocked, afterall he finally seen your true colours and he wouldn’t have put it above you to enjoy his surprised face flushed with your own juices. He felt his arms move from their position on your hips to snake under your skirt and wipe it off—

“Don’t fucking wipe it off.”

After catching your breath, you climbed off his face and stared down at the mess you made. Your hair began to fall over your features, but he could distinctly see the sick smirk on your face before you lent down and licked a line from his chin to his cheek, collecting some of your slick off of him. Then you moved back up again, watching his still blushing face stare at you with wide eyes.

“Y/n-“ But you weren’t listening as you climbed off the bed entirely.

Though your own excitement had been suppressed, you weren’t going to leave Kakashi to finish himself off. You liked to consider yourself a good girl, at least a little bit..

“You were so well behaved, weren’t you? Do you want to cum too?” Were you really about to make him beg? Yes you were. “Come on, use your words little shinobi, why don’t you tell me what you want?” The way you spat that word out belittled him in ever sense and he couldn’t help but buck his hips again.

He felt so embarrassed, but the nights events have had him desperately straining his pants and his normal thoughts were in a far away land. The only thing he could process was the bitter ache in his pants and the sticky substance on his face.

“I-I want to cum too.”

You smirked at him from the edge of the bed. You usually expected a please at the end of the sentence but you weren’t gonna make him suffer anymore. You pat the edge of the matress as a sign for him to shuffle down. He did so eagerly and you began to fumble with his zipper.

“Be a good boy and I’ll let you.”

[sweet-taiyaki]

His Sunflower (Finale) 🌻

Disclaimer: The song Might*U makes me feel some type of way and it inspired this finale. 

Pairing: ProHero!Eijiro Kirishima x Fem!Reader (she/her)

Featuring: Katsuki Bakugo (Ground Zero), Izuku Midoriya (Deku), Shoto Todoroki, Hanta Sero, Denki Kaminari

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: You joined Red Riots and Ground Zero’s agency and you were closer to receiving your Japan Hero License. Kirishima and Bakugo come across a villain, but wanted you to standby. However, your sword was the key to beat the villain and save Japan, even if it meant your life.

Quirk: Life Vision. Can view anyone’s internal clock by their wrist.

Warnings: Violence, some language, mentions of blood, mentions of death, fluff

part 1 2 [3]

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

“Come get me you, villain,” I said. There were four surrounding me. I slowed time as each of them were on their guard to attack.

TIME PERCEPTION

I slowed time as I cut holes through the villain’s quirks. One had fire that I extinguished the flames, another had a mind power that I blocked their mind control, the other had a fatal slime that I enhanced the water components to make it hurt less, and the last had guns for hands which I blocked the bullets with my sword. Even though each villain didn’t hold back, my sword found the weak spots in the quirk to defend myself. After their quirks were disabled, I used my jujitsu training to knock them out. Each one fell to the ground.

“My name is Biothythm. I will protect others, whatever the case.”

“Damn, you know how to fight,” Kirishima’s voice echoed. I took off my goggles for the villain simulation. The battle arena was spacious so that I couldn’t hurt myself or anyone around me.

“Fine, she can train here, but I’m next,” Bakugo mumbled.

“Wait—Bakugo,” Kirishima followed behind him. Bakugo entered the arena as he watched me change out of my armor. “Listen, broad. We are a two-man team that wins every time. So don’t go around telling people that you’re one of us,” Bakugo barked.

“No, sir,” I said. He cocked his head with a weird look on his face. “We stay strong and protect others, even if it means our life,” Kirishima followed. Bakugo threw some of his sweat near me. It caught me offguard, but I noticed before it exploded. “Bakugo!” Kirishima yelled.

“I need to prove that I am better than you, (Y/N). Don’t take it personally. Fight me!” I suit up back into my armor and held my sword as Kirishima watched overhead. “I think you’re the only hero with a sword. What are you some kind of—” I charged at him. I didn’t want to use my sword unless I had to. When I charged at him, he blasted an explosion in my face and stepped back. I used my sword as a shield. It seems like he is more defensive than actually doing damage to me. He keeps saying ‘fight me’ but it seems like doesn’t want to hurt me. I aim for his weak spots, which are small windows for him to gather sweat. He is very quirk reliant in his fighting style. I placed my sword on the ground and charged at him, aiming for his back. I twisted twice in a jump over him. His reaction time was fast, but I hit his back before he made a move. He fell forward to the ground. “Use your sword, you wimp,” he yelled.

I grabbed my sword. “HOWITZER IMPACT!” He sent a tornado of explosions to me and I slowed time as I concentrated my attack to the tornado. Since nitroglycerin is composed of mostly nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon, my sword can detect oxygen in most quirks to completely disable whatever is thrown at me. I slash through the explosion tornado as it swirls then evaporates in the air. “What the hell—” he mumbled. Every other explosion he threw at me, it evaporated with a sword swing activated by my time vision quirk. After he got tired out, both of us were out of breath. I placed down my sword and charged at him with a single punch. “KACCHAN!” a voice yelled overhead. I froze, but then got punched in the face. “Serves you right for not cutting me up with your sword,” Bakugo said. Two men enter the arena with Kirishima running over to us. My legs and arms froze with an ice quirk. “My sword is not used to attack. It’s used to find the molecular imbalance in quirks,” I said.

“Why are you training with a villain,” a red- and white-haired man approached.

“No, Todoroki,” Kirishima began, “She’s a hero in America, and is training to get her license here with us.”

“Kacchan, you hit a girl?” a green-haired man asked.

“She hit me first, you damn nerd!” Todoroki used his fire quirk to melt his ice restraints. “My name is Shoto Todoroki. I occasionally work with these fools,” he pointed over to Kirishima and Bakugo.

“Hey,” Kirishima got offended.

“Hi, I’m Deku. Did you know that All Might’s moves are based off of American states? I’m sure that you must be really powerful,” he said.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). And I just have this sword and life vision. I can’t say I’m as powerful as All Might,” I said.

“You know All Might,” Bakugo asked.

“Everyone does. He fought villains in the states he mentions in his moves,” I said.

“So, what are you doing here Midoriya and Todoroki?” Kirishima asked.

“There’s been a rumor that a villain is going to attack Musutafu. I heard that he was working with All for One,” Todoroki began.

“Why can’t your dad take him,” Bakugo asked. Todoroki narrowed his eyes at Bakugo.

“We need to prove ourselves as pro-heros. We need everyone to take his plan down,” Deku said.

“I’m in,” I said.

“What—but you don’t even have your license yet,” Kirishima said.

“Deku said he needed everyone. I need to prove to Japan that I am a pro and that I am here to stay,” I said with confidence. Kirishima smiled.

“We’ll leave with you tomorrow. We will win,” Bakugo said.

…………………………………………………………………………

I got back to my apartment with Kirishima. “Well that was a fun day. It’s awesome to see you get stronger,” he held me in his arms. “I love your hugs,” he sighed.

We made dinner. He made the side dishes, and I made the entrée. “Here, taste this, I want to make sure I perfected it,” Kirishima handed me a spoon. I took a taste, then kissed him softly. “I think it’s good. How ‘bout you,” I flirted. He dropped the spoon, grabbed me from my waist, and placed me on the countertop. He cupped my face and ran his fingers through my hair as his kisses got sweeter on my lips. He pulled away and looked at me with concern. “What is it,” I said.

“I—I want you to be safe. This won’t be an easy battle,” he said softly, feeling my face. I placed my hands on his as I kiss his fingertips.

“We’ll defeat him together. We have Bakugo, Deku, and Todoroki, too. The four of you are strong and I want you to see my true strength to prove that I can save and protect Japan with you,” I said. He gives me another sweet kiss and we continue to cook dinner as we exchange smiles.

We have dinner and then cuddle up next to each other in bed. I laid my head on his chest as his arms tighten around me. “Night, my hero. We will win, save, and protect Musutafu,” I sighed. He held me tighter and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Goodnight, pebble.” I heard him hesitate that he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. We slowly drift off in our dreams.

…………………………………………………………………………

Kirishima, Bakugo, and I arrive at the train station to meet Todoroki and Deku. They all sat together as the guys caught up. I stared at the window at a seat adjacent from them.

“So how did you meet (Y/N),” Deku asked nonchalantly.

“She---she is a chef at a sushi bar downtown. She gave us an awesome experience,” Kirishima said. I knew he would have been embarrassed if he mentioned that I saved his life in an alleyway from a villain.

“Alright, enough small talk. What’s with this villain,” Bakugo scuffed.

“Apparently, the villain is known to have x-ray vision. His name is Angiogram,” Todoroki stated, “You know how there are veins in the body? His quirk can find the large arteries to puncture them or enough to make someone get hurt. He’s killed a lot of people just by looking at them. Also, he is very defensive with energy control, which was given to him by All for One.”

“I believe with all of our quirks that we can attack without getting too close,” Deku added.

“So, what’s the plan,” I said.

“When one of us gets tired out, another comes in to make him weaker. We have to make sure he is constantly distracted by each other so none of our veins explode,” Deku said.

“Kirishima and I will restrain him when he is completely weak then Deku and Bakugo will have the last hit,” Todoroki said.

“Where do I come in,” I said.

“You will help us tire him out. All of us will weaken him. I just thought that Kacchan and I would have the last hit. Just like the old days,” Deku smiled. Bakugo groaned.

“I can do the last hit myself,” Bakugo yelled, “He will die!” The train stopped suddenly. The conductor mentioned that there will be delays then screams over the intercom. Bakugo blasts out of the train car to the front of the train. The windows were splattered in blood. Bakugo comes back to our train car. “We have to move, now!”

All of us land on the ground to find a large figure looking at us. His suit glowed with blue and red lines all over him. “Ah, the heroes are here. Oh, and a girl too.”

“You’ve brought enough destruction to this city and have murdered innocent lives. Do you have any remorse?” Todoroki yelled. Angiogram laughed.

“You make it seem like the world is good. ‘People are generally good’. Bullshit. The world is full of hate. People push their elders into the ground, blame others instead of themselves, and live through their ego. Everyone is generally evil. It’s the heroes that ruin all the fun. Like All Might. He was the Symbol of Peace and he defended “innocent” people when they were evil. Not everyone is good, except heroes. Heroes need to die and evil will rise,” he said.

“You’re wrong!” Deku yelled.

“Well I guess we have to put our opinions to the test,” he said. He charged at us. Todoroki stepped in front of us and made an ice wall to distract him. Kirishima hardened and charged at Angiogram. He took some punches then punched Kirishima back. Bakugo came forward with his explosions to the front and back of his body. The smoke surrounded him, but I detected his wrist and fought with my jujitsu moves. He anticipated my moves, but I was also a distraction when Deku smashed his back with his strength and wind pressure. Todoroki blasted his fire towards him and we each had turns to tire and weaken Angiogram.

After a lot of hits, it didn’t seem like Angiogram was getting weaker. All of us started to break sweat as we kept charging at him. He was too defensive. There was a moment where we stood still. Angiogram started to evil laugh.

“Thanks for the warmup. Now it’s my turn to kill you,” he said. He used his eyes to Bakugo. Kirishima charged and punched him to block his x-ray vision from hurting Bakugo. All of a sudden, Angiogram pulls out a syringe and injects himself. “With the power of All for One, I can kill all heroes,” he shouted. He rose from the ground, manipulating it to almost like an earthquake. “ONE FOR ALL, FULL COWLING 30%” Deku charges at the villain. The wind blast didn’t affect him as he blocked it with a wave of his hand. “STUN GRENADE” Bakugo attempts to blinds the villain. “FLASHFIRE FIST” Todoroki sends a wave of fire and the villain controls it. “RED ENCOUNTER” Kirishima charges with a straight punch and Angiogram forces the fire he controlled from Todoroki towards him. “TIME PERCEPTION” I used my sword to find the oxygen to find vulnerability in his quirk and I got Bakugo’s blinding effect from his move. The villain rises higher as he sends a punch to each of us as he manipulates our quirks against each of us, slamming us into the ground, one by one. After some broken bones and internal bleeding, we slowly got back up to fight.

“Todoroki! Kirishima!” Deku shouted. “He’s not weak enough,” Kirishima shouted back. “We have to try,” Deku encouraged. Todoroki used his flash-freeze to cool the air then switch to fire while making a ramp for Kirishima to harden his whole body to punch the villain to the ground. “RED RIOT UNBREAKABLE” Kirishima hardened his whole body. Todoroki was then punched to the ground by Angiogram with Kirishima. “ONE FOR ALL 100%” “HOWITZER IMPACT” Bakugo and Deku worked together to create an explosive hit, but they were smashed into the ground. I saw each of them motionless. They still wanted to fight, even with the broken bones to protect others. I knew what I had to do.

I charged at the villain as I got thrown to the ground. I got back up to understand his x-ray vision. He started at me to try to rupture my arteries, but my sword was blocking the major arteries he was trying to burst. I charged at him with my sword. His comeback attack cracked the tip of my sword like glass. The white glow started to ooze out. I didn’t know that the white glow was actually a liquid. I touched the liquid and instantly got absorbed in my skin. My body started to get stronger and all the vision powers gathered to my mind. It was overwhelming, I knew it was what I had to do to defeat Angiogram. I had penetration vision, to know his next movement. I had probability vision, I knew that if I did this move, that I would win the fight. My movement vision was increased. He looked down upon me as I got stronger and charged towards me. When our fists met, he hammered me into the ground physically and mentally with his vision. I struggled, but I kept up my strength and I didn’t give up. I felt my body slowly digging deeper in the ground. My ribs broke. My veins exploded one by one. I could barely breathe. The pain started to increase more and more. Tears started to prick from my eyes. I yelled in pain as my strength increased and so did his. I couldn’t keep up. I look over to my wrist and it started to drop dramatically. I can’t give up. I’ll do my best. Japan is counting on me. Don’t give---

Bakugo and Deku stood up together to blast the villain through the clouds. I saw them fly up to grab him and smash him to the ground. Angiogram was knocked out. Deku and Bakugo fell to the ground. Each of the men stood up, regardless of their injuries. Bakugo held his fist in the air to let the people know that it was done, and they were safe. When the sun rose, Japan’s fear disappeared as the sun came shining in. There were cheers and some cries. They all took in the support of Japan. They smiled at each other and grabbed each other’s fist in the air.

Shoto, Deku, Ground Zero, and Red Riot. The Symbols of Peace and Justice.

Kirishima looked for me and found me in the ground motionless. “(Y/N)!” he cried. They all rushed over to me. Kirishima held my head up.

“Eijiro,” I said faintly in his arms.

“(Y/N),” he whispered.

“Is everyone okay,” I asked.

“Yes, we beat him, (Y/N),” Kirishima’s eyes started to tear up as he smiled through his watery eyes. I chuckled through my tears.

“Listen to me, please. You are great heroes. You are loved and supported by many. And most of all, you will inspire future heroes to be just like you. Todoroki, you stay true to yourself and motivate others. Deku, you never give up and do your best. Kirishima, you protect others and stay strong. And Bakugo has a strong heart that will always be remembered,” Bakugo started to tear up as those words left my mouth. “Eijiro, you have proven how manly you are to the world and to me.”

“Don’t talk like this, please. You’re going to be okay. You’re strong and we beat the villain,” Kirishima said with tears rolling down his face.

“I love you, Eijiro Kirishima,” I said softly.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he cried.

“My clock,” I looked over to my wrist narrowing zero.

“No—no please—(Y/N)—you’re gonna be okay. I promise,” Kirishima said holding me tighter. I cupped his face as he kissed me softly. When I pulled away, I saw his face fade to a white light. He is my sunflower. The one I would always turn to. The light of my life.

Third Person View

Kirishima held (Y/N) as her eyes fluttered closed. “I’ll never forget you,” Kirishima whispered as he tried to hold back his tears.

....................................................................................

A few months later, Bakugo and Kirishima were walking down the street and came across (Y/N)’s sushi bar. Kirishima stopped as he looked down the alleyway that he would take to walk (Y/N) home. “Wanna go in,” Bakugo broke the silence. “No,” Kirishima sighed. They both continue to walk down the street when there was a street vendor selling flowers. Kirishima had an idea. In the alleyway, he decided to paint some small sunflowers on the walls of the alleyway. Under the flowers, he wrote “In memory of Biorhythm”. 

A few days later, he caught up with Kaminari and Sero. “No, man, I don’t think cheese is healthy for you,” Kirishima said. “I had three grilled cheeses and they were so good,” Kaminari laughed. Bakugo stopped at the alleyway where Kirishima would walk (Y/N) down as the rest kept walking.

“Hey, Red,” Bakugo called. The men stop and go over to Bakugo. “What is it, Bakugo,” Sero said. The sunflowers in the alleyway grew. More and more people recognized Biorhythm and her dedication as a hero to Japan. The alleyway was covered in painted sunflowers. Kirishima started to tear up. Bakugo put his hand on his shoulder as he smiled at him. “She deserves this. She’s a hero and my sunflower,” Kirishima said. 

[anika-ann]

Challenge Accepted...?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader                Word count: 4468

Summary: Steve’s never been good at quick decision-making when it came to his own safety. After one particularly horrible experience, you find a way to remind him every day to think twice the next time he’s faced with a tough choice. He is not amused. 

A/N: For @mermaidxatxheart​ 500 writing challenge; congratulations! I’m happy to be part of what could be 750 in building ;)

Prompt: “I thought you were dead.” “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” (bold in text)

Warnings: angst, fluff, attempt at humour and action; swearing, vomiting, sort-of a panic attack, mentions of death (which you probably figured from the prompt, but hey, I didn’t have to take that literally… I did)

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

You had been awake for about half an hour, sneaking from your bed – and how painful it had been, leaving the other occupant there – in search for caffeine; and more importantly to pick up the package that arrived for you that day. A package you had been waiting for to arrive for three days now despite requesting your order to be express.

You had been gracing your boyfriend with silent treatment the whole time and it was getting old, so you couldn’t wait for it to end your misery. Naturally, it wasn’t as simple as that, a package magically resolving your problems, it was nothing but an object, but you had been left with three days to deal with your feelings and dark thoughts until it was delivered and you appreciated it.

Symbols were important; and the package was a symbol for you, a symbol of acceptance.  

Raising your gaze from the floor at the voice, you couldn’t but smile over your cup of coffee at how reluctant Steve sounded, the great Captain America himself afraid and hesitantly wavering at the door to the communal kitchen of the Avengers’ compound.

You loved him to bits, which was why you hadn’t enjoyed torturing him (and yourself) by keeping him at arm’s length, but fuck it, he deserved every single second of it and more.

Jerk.

“Morning, honey,” you replied warmly, barely holding your laughter at bay when an utterly baffled expression settled on his face at your sudden inviting tone. It was a complete U-turn from how you had been treating him the past days. “Slept well?”

It was a tricky question and you knew that he knew. Your time in bed – reduced to very chaste displays of affection, not lovers’ ones at all – was the only time he had been allowed to touch you, because the very first time you had spent night together after the event, your body had followed its instincts and gravitated towards Steve no matter how pissed you had been. So, cuddling in your sleep was the most contact you had.

“…yes. Always do with you,” he whispered, his steps towards the kitchen slow but firm, apparently encouraged by your inviting tone.

“I’m glad. Any residual pain?”

He gulped, but his face brightened a bit at your care; you, of course, had cared the whole time, but you wouldn’t let him know too explicitly, your conversations rather clipped. When he had confronted you about it, about the way you kept treating him – with flames in your eyes –, your glare discouraged him from pressing further, his mouth opening only to fall shut again as you had stridden away.

“No. No pain at all anymore.”

You nodded thoughtfully, finishing your cup. “Good. That’s good. Coffee?”

Not needing his answer, because it was always bound to be the same, you poured him a cup.

The moment you returned the pot to its place, Steve’s large hand covered yours, the radiating heat of his body warming your back even with the slight distance between you remaining.

Turning your head to side, glancing up to his face, you saw his eyes searching in your expression, looking for an answer; did you decide to grant him a pardon?

You charmed a tight smile for him, ignoring the tug at your stomach when you remembered you had every reason not to forgive him and tell him you were done with his bullshit – and with him.

With your face still under scrutiny, his other hand landed on your shoulder, squeezing with a tinniest strength. When your gaze involuntarily flickered to his lips in response to his proximity, he knew; manoeuvring your body as if it was nothing but a puppet, he pulled you into his embrace, his cheek resting on the top of your head, his chest expanding with deep inhale.

Your shoulders fell and you felt yourself melt into his frame, your rapidly beating heart in sync with his. His own raced because he was afraid you’d push him away, just like you had been doing it for the past few days; yours did, because it recalled with paralysing precision every single painful second in which you believed you would never feel his arms around you again.

He swayed your bodies a bit from side to side, cradling you in his arms, nuzzling your hair, tightening his hold on you.

Tears stung in your eyes at the display of his guttural need to keep you close. God knew you felt the same way, craving the reassurance of his embrace.

“I love you,” he whispered to your hair and you squeezed your eyes shut so the tears wouldn’t escape. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re an idiot. The biggest idiot I know, but I guess I never liked them particularly bright,” you muttered into his sleepshirt and his chest shook with hushed laughter as he took no offence. You even received a kiss to the top of your head, firm and lingering, filling every cell of your body with content and feeling of security.

Standing in the kitchen, the walls, which you had built up to be able to punish him for his crimes and to let him realize what he could lose, crumbled to dust.

It had taken a lot of strength to get to this point, leaving you drained both mentally and physically, but the package arrived today to seal the deal, as if confirming the victory of tolerance over emotions. You felt much better now, mostly because you couldn’t wait for Steve to see what you ordered for him – and for you.

“Oh. Good, you two made up. We can stop walking on eggshells around you now,” Sam’s voice interrupted your blissful bubble and you nearly jumped out of your skin at his voice. You never heard him coming.

And then he burst out laughing and you just knew he noticed the change in the kitchen decorations. It caused your lips to curl up in a smirk before you kissed Steve’s clavicle over the fabric of his shirt and withdrew.

“What’s so funny?” Steve mumbled, slightly dazed, apparently still overwhelmed with the sudden drop of cold-shoulder attitude of yours.

Sam simply grinned, pointing at the sign sitting on the top of one the fridges as he opened it in search for breakfast.

“What the-“ Steve questioned incredulously, his eyes wide as he spun to you when you snorted at his reaction. “Was this you?!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not being serious,” he stated, his glare flickering between you and the small black table with caption and large number written with a chalk.

You frowned at him, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “But I am. Very.”

Steve eyed the small blackboard-styled sign in a wooden frame with an obvious distaste and a pout to his lips, but he remained silent; either he couldn’t find the words or didn’t dare to speak them.

Served him right.

Stupid risk-taking dumbass.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

“Surveillance room secure. No sign of activity,” Natasha’s voice informed you through the comm in your ear.

You peeked from behind the door opened for a crack, scanning the level of the stairwell before moving from your hideout, arms stretched with your gun raised, ready to shoot. Soundlessly approaching the middle where the handrails of opposite stairwells nearly met, only leaving a slit in between to glance through, you did a quick once-over above and below you, ears pricked up to catch the tinniest of sounds that would alert you on having any hostiles present.

Still ready to fire any second if needed, you raised your hand covered in fingerless glove to your left ear. The ampullas of tranquillizers covered in black metal reflected subtly in the flickering light of the fluorescent lamp. It was no coincidence your codename was Robin; you could easily put your enemies to sleep, bringing them the night much like the bird, Tony’s invention making your job easier.

“Looks like east stairwell is clear,” you announced lowly to the rest of the team.

Similar message arrived from Sam on the roof and surprisingly, it sent a chill down your spine rather than a relief to the tension in your battle-ready body.

This was not okay. A S.H.I.E.L.D. undercover operative had reported activity only few hours ago; admittedly, it had taken you some time to get here, the distance New York – middle-of-nowhere Latvia posing a tiny problem to your time management, but the team consisting of you, Sam, Steve, Nat, Tony and Clint had been on the way with minimal delay after receiving the report.

You didn’t like this base empty. It tickled your spy-sense and not in a good way.

“West stairwell clear, heading to lower levels.”

“Starting the extraction of files. Last log-in was 6 hours ego. It’s hard to tell how much of their actual intel has been left for us,” Steve announced from the server room and if your gut wasn’t screaming at you that this was messed up, you would have smirked proudly at Steve’s skills with technology and rubbed it in face of anyone who had ever called him a grandpa.

“Feels sloppy to leave anything behind at all. The only heat signatures I’m reading are yours. Am I the only one who find this sketchy as fuck?” Tony’s voice rang from your ear and you muttered a silent ‘not at all’ under your breath.

“Heading to upper levels, since Clint is on his way down.”

“Roger that, future Mrs. Rogers,” Sam hummed over the comms and you rolled your eyes.

Poor Steve. You had been together for only few months; you were most definitely not engaged, but the rest of the Avengers kept giving Steve shit about your relationship, because a) he apparently spent months working up the courage to actually ask you out and b) you were the first girl whom he in fact was interested in to begin with after refusing like thirty different candidates from Nat (and occasionally Sam); to be fair, you couldn’t but feel incredibly flattered, learning these things, but Christ, your team was full of little shits.

Must have got it from their captain then.

“Har, har. You’re hilarious, Wilson,” you hissed quietly and mentally slapped yourself to return your full attention to the mission. Hundred percent concentration was the key to survival.

“Cut it, Sam. Focus. Twenty percent downloaded.”

“And we’re hundred percent in deep shit,” Clint announced, his words coming out strangled.

Your heart pounding due to adrenalin stopped as you awaited an explanation in dreadful silence. What?

“Get your asses out of the building! RIGHT NOW!” the archer yelled over the comms, paradoxically freezing you on spot for a moment, leaving you with thousands of question marks in your head.

“Explosives. Shit ton of them and the timer shows two minutes and change, counting down as I speak,” he added and that got you moving.

“My route’s shorter to the roof. Sam?” you demanded, index finger pressed to you ear, already heading up, hoping he would respond in affirmative.

“I got ya’, Robin.”

Speeding up despite every single muscle in your legs burning, you focused on your breathing, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Suddenly, you were very grateful for all the cardio you had been forced to do. For every single morning run-

“Steve?” your hand shot up to your comms once more.

“I’m nearly at the exit,” Clint announced instead.

“Me too,” came Nat’s voice.

You growled in frustration; Steve’s voice probably couldn’t come through as the legendary spy duo spoke practically at the same time.

As far as you knew, the servers were at the basement and the fact Steve didn’t report made your spine tingle in horrible premonition.

��Cap? Need a lift from anywhere?” Tony’s voice broke through this time and you faltered in your step. “One minute, thirty seconds.”

You finally saw the last two sets of stairs. You were sure you must have left your lungs about five floors below, but that was not why you felt your chest constricting.

“Nearly at ninety percent,” Steve hissed and this time your feet tangled enough to send you flying headfirst, only years of practice in falling saving your skull from cracking as you curled up, landing on your side.

The edges of the stairs dug into your arm and ribs, but you couldn’t care less for that, air knocked out of you altogether at the exclaim.

What the FUCK-

“Rogers, get your ass out of there!” Natasha yelled at him, out of breath herself and honestly you loved her at that moment.

You couldn’t make yourself to get up from the floor, paralyzed, panic squeezing your heart. He was not going to make it!

“Ninety-three-“

“And only a minute left, you idiot!” Tony spitted out. “Get out!”

“Robin, still on your way?”

“Ninety-six.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rogers!” Clint panted to the comms.

You only managed to blindly stare ahead, forcing your brain to imagine the blueprints of the building, calculating the route Steve might use to get out, your mind sinking into dark waters of horror as you realized there was no fucking way he would-

A crash sounded from above on your left, your head snapping that way on instinct just in time to see Sam burst in and the door hit the wall.

“Robin! Can you get up? We really need to-“

Strong hands pulled you to your feet as Steve’s voice, impatient, rang in your ears.

“Done. Heading out.”

Unfreezing, you pushed yourself and ran alongside Sam, but a bitchy sneer in your head informed you that Steve didn’t have enough time to escape the explosion at that point.

You shushed the prophet-of-doom voice with all you had and sped up.

“Don’t get seasick on me,” Sam warned you, buckling you to him via the straps on your suit and the snap-links on his, his palms sliding to your armpits. “3, 2-“

The sudden jerk and void opening beneath your feet made you dizzy and you stupidly closed your eyes in hope to make it better.

It didn’t work, your stomach somersaulting.

And then… then you were flying, speeding away from the building, two figures running tens of feet under you; Clint and Nat.

Your pair approached the ground quickly, not landing exactly gracefully, but your first instinct was to snap your head back to the enemy base, eyes hypnotizing the exit.

You found it just in time to see it swallowed up in flames, the ground shaking beneath your feet with the force of the explosion. Glass blew to shards, smoke poured through the suddenly free space of the windows.

Despite the deafening noise shaking you to your core, the world seemed to fall silent, just like your heart.

A second later, your instincts kicked in and you sprung towards the building.

“Hey!” someone shouted from a seemingly endless distance, just a dull scream in your ears; out of nowhere, you were falling, tackled to the ground. “Not happening. You’re staying right here.”

Jerking your body to get rid of the weight on you, you achieved nothing, tears of despair welling up in your eyes as you repeated the motion in vain. The void that had opened under you when Sam had carried you away seemed like nothing in comparison to the sudden rip that cracked opened in your ribcage at the image of- of Steve-- he-

You sobbed and trashed around once more, a Kevlar-clad silhouette shielding you from the view of terror. Your eyes travelled up, your gaze swimming in tears, meeting worried yet piercing green eyes of your fellow spy.

“Steve? Report! Rogers?”

Your body turned limp at the sound of his name, your eyelids sliding shut, ice crystalizing in your veins. Your whole world swayed, vertigo overtaking all of your senses so intensely you tasted gastric juices.

No one responded.

The moment the weight shifted from you, you doubled over and spitted the contents of your stomach, nearly choking on the vomit, a pit growing in your stomach.

A hand landed on your shoulder, possibly with an attempt to soothe you; with zero effect as you couldn’t breathe in properly.

“I’m scanning the building, but the heat everywhere is making it a bit difficult,” Tony informed you mechanically, no emotion in his statement.  

You had barely realized in your haze that you hadn’t seen his figure either, but you assumed the suit would protect him, more so since he had been mostly flying around the building rather than bursting in.

A violent tremble took a hold of your body, blackness edging your vision even with your eyes closed. Ashes danced behind your eyelids, fire and dust, white roses, black wood covered in fabric, red and white stripes, stars scattered over the blue, hiding the ugly truth of a fallen soldier.

A fallen soldier.

An irreplaceable leader.

A loyal friend.

Your partner.

Your lover.

Your love.

All gone.

Your hand was pressed against something solid, moving periodically and your breath instinctively attempted to match the tempo. It was really fucking hard, because your ribcage ached, your mouth felt disgusting, your heart pounded in both your chest and temples and pictures of Steve’s smile haunted you.

‘There must be some hope left for him, come on-‘

‘It blew up, you nitwit-‘

“Any-- -py? L-- help? West-- under-“ fractions of words reached your ear and you laughed hysterically, your palms instantly covering your mouth in disbelief, tears rolling down your face.

“Son of a bitch,” Clint commented behind you and you chuckled, the sound hurting you and yet relieving your tension that had been crushing you for god knew how long.

You found yourself gasping for air again, this time because you couldn’t stop laughing– and crying-- and cursing in every language you had ever tried to learn.

“Yes, we copy,” Tony announced wryly, but clearly flied to lend a helping hand to the dumbass of a captain.

Scrambling to your feet with difficulty as your legs felt strangely wobbly, Sam’s arms appeared on your sides to support your stance. You head spun with adrenalin and residual terror, endless relief slowly creeping in; you needed to see him. You needed to see him and hear his voice clearly, touching him, tasting him, soothing all of your senses with the reality of him not being blown to hell.

And then, you might kill him yourself.

But god, first you needed him to prove any way imaginable that he was still breathing.

Rationally, you knew it couldn’t take that long, but the moments of no report from Tony was tugging at your stomach, impatience filling every cell in your body as the time stretched to eternity. When Sam hesitantly let go of you, you started making your way, one shaky step after another, towards the still burning building; in hope to shorten the torturous period of not being quite sure Steve would be alright.

Eventually, the heat and smoke became too much, the danger too imminent for you to come any closer; you, unlike some other people on your team, one in particular, had some self-preservation left.

“Well and I thought you were born in the first half of the past century, not in the stone age… Gee, Rogers, that’s a lot of rubble…” Tony complained over the channel and you instinctively winced.

Perhaps Steve wasn’t burn to a crisp, but… trapped under the stones and concrete? That did not sound any better.

Minutes were ticking by and as the adrenalin gradually left your body, you started shivering despite the heat which the flames provided.

The sudden flash of red and gold was your salvation. Like an angel of mercy, Tony flew up with a man supported only by his iron palms, carried much like you had been from the roof, and descended to your level, Steve’s feet touching the ground with barely visible stumble. The dried paths of salt on your cheeks were watered again, fresh tears rolling down in endless waterfalls, your mouth once more covered with the back of your hand; your teeth sunk into the leather of your gloves on instinct.

Steve simply stood there, ribcage expanding widely, favouring his left leg, his arm curled around his ribs as if he had been in a fight with a hostile agent who landed a few lucky hits and not with a building that had fallen on him, apparently.

Your feet acted on their own account as they brought you to him, your body crashing into his chest with ferocity, arms thrown around his middle, face buried in his shoulder. He grunted at the brutal impact of your weight, but his hand reluctantly let go of the shield and had it hit the ground, his arms sneaking around your body instead.

‘Don’t squeeze too tight,’ you scolded yourself. ‘He might be bleeding internally. Don’t squeeze him too tight, he’s hurt, because-‘

‘-because he’s a fucking idiot!’

Just as he buried his face in your hair, you jerked away, staring him down with a murderous glare.

‘He’s injured,’ you reminded yourself, but that didn’t stop you.

Balling your hand in a weak fist, you punched his chest with vigour, flaring rage replacing the dread in your veins, searingly hot and destructive.

“I thought you were dead, you—you stupid piece of-- jerk!” you spitted out venomously, your impression of a harpy ruined by your voice breaking as you choked on a sob.

His blue eyes shone bright yet tired through the smudges of dirt on his face, dust and trickle of blood on the side of his neck, seeping into the high collar of his uniform. He was a picture of misery and exhaustion, but you were torn between pity, relief and anger as he reached out for you, offering you something small in his palm.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he rasped, voice rough from the smoke he doubtlessly inhaled. “But I got the drive-“

Snatching the stupid device from his hand, you threw it away – peripherally checking where it landed – and stretched your arm to hit him again.

Weary hand caught your blow before it could collide with its target and with a strength that surprised you he could still possess after nearly getting buried alive, he pulled you into his embrace again, wrapping you in his arms and breathing you in as if he needed to assure himself you were still in the land of living. Or perhaps he felt the urge to confirm that he was still breathing?

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he creaked lowly, his fingers flexing on the flash of your sides. “I’m okay…”

You shook your head wildly, but didn’t try to escape the cage of his arms, melting into his frame instead.

The truth was though, you fundamentally disagreed with him.

He was not okay. And you most definitely weren’t either.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You, in contrary, adored the board. Not because it reminded you of the faults your beloved boyfriend had, but because you were hopeful that the whole team giving him shit about it would cause him to be less impulsive and more considerate of the consequences of his actions.

The sign read: ‘______ without Steve doing stupid life-threatening shit’

You had proudly written down number 3 and the word days. You prayed the number would climb (and that you might possibly write down ‘months’ instead of just days), even after Steve healed completely and returned to active duty; which was apparently about to happen very soon.

“Sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh? Nope. It’s staying right here and you better be getting to higher numbers than that.”

“But-“

“When did you ever back away from a challenge, Cap?” Sam entered your discussion subtly and you sent him a grateful wink, while Steve shot him a glare that would have had him lying in a pool of blood if a glare could kill.

“That is awfully accurate,” you noted with a tired sigh, torn between enjoying Steve’s discomfort and fighting with the anxiety caused by the fact that what Sam said was uncomfortably on point. “I can’t believe it took me so long to see the extends of your lacking self-preservation. I didn’t believe them when I first joined, you know? When they told me you were reckless…? God, I should have known better…”

“He did crash a plane before-“ “I’m not that bad-“ Sam and Steve spoke at the same time and you rolled your eyes at the former, locking your gaze with the latter.

“1 minute and 19 seconds,” you protested, not offering any context.

Both Sam and Steve seemed flabbergasted at your statement.

“Huh?”

“I asked Tony about the time,” you elaborated, voice dangerously low. “For 1 minute and 19 seconds after the explosion, there was nothing but silence from you. I thought you were dead,” you repeated your words from that day to remind him.

A flare of fury ignited in your chest again and Steve must have recognized the expression on your face, because he instantly took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

You huffed, running your hand down your face, forcing your breathing to return to normal as your glances met and you exchanged a wordless conversation.

His ‘I’m sorry,’ followed by a perfect set of kicked-puppy eyes he excelled at performing.

Your raised eyebrow in return and ‘I’m sure you are. And?’

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” Steve resigned and it brought a victorious smirk back to your face. The victory tasted bittersweet, the fact you were still discussing his near-death experience kinda taking the satisfaction of overpowering him away.

“No.”

“And you’re gonna remind me at every occasion, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” you chipped and crossed the distance that had somehow managed to grow between the two of you. You raised your hand and repeatedly poked at his chest with your index finger; cheekily, yet deadly serious. “Until it gets through your thick skull that your life matters too much to me, to all of us, you idiotic. Piece. Of dumb-”

You never got the chance to finish your outraged clipped sentence. Steve shut you up the most effective way known to lovers of humankind.

His fingers sunk into your hair in one swift movement, pulling you in for a dramatic kiss.

And after the days of torturous distance, you gave in, convincing yourself that you’d get plenty of opportunities to give him shit about his recklessness later.

After all, you had the sign to help you with that.

Judging by the burst of laughter as the rest of the team entered the kitchen, you bet they would have your back as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in conciliatory manner once more, his words brushing your lips. “I love you.”

“Hpmf. I love you too. But the sign stays.”

“…dammit.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Sooo, I possibly made it too long? *sigh* I also hope I didn’t like… broke some rule or something, my first prompt fic and all. If I did, I’m really sorry.

Anyway, I wanted to thank @mermaidxatxheart​ for letting me be a part of this challenge. I enjoyed participating and hopefully, you people, enjoyed reading :))

[thisisthehardestthing]

wait r u fr? tumblr ate the ask? pls i’m so fuckin mad i literally typed paragraphs about how much i loved it so here we go i’m gonna try to be more coherent this time:

this mafia fic is my favorite haikyuu fic i’ve ever read and one of my fave fics in general. like the amount of hard work and research u put into it is so clear and it shows in the amazing quality of the fic. ur pacing, the flow of ur words, ur characterizations of tanaka and val, the way u pull off that last scene. everything is so well done and all of those things are super hard to pull off on their own so props to u for being able to do all of those. like wow i really am in awe of ur talent and i’m so thankful for ur hard work and the fact that u posted this like u rlly took me thru an emotional ride and gave me such a good piece of writing to enjoy and i love that.

okay so: details. i love the way u include the little things in the fic. stuff like the name of the designers and the names of organizations and stuff in the fic helps me picture the scenes so much and it just really adds to the extravagant feel of the fic.

with symbolism, i could literally write paragraphs about how well u included symbols in this fic. like i deadass gasped when the viper necklace was crushed in the final scene at the end right before tanaka did it. the parallels!!!! god ur so good at writing and obviously ur brain is huge to have thought of that and seamlessly included it into the fic.

okay so idk what the proper term for this is but like, the way that action happens in the fic is so well done and not predictable but still in line with what you’ve revealed to us about the characters. like ofc tanaka would pull the necklace out of his pocket at just that moment as a way to reveal to daichi what he felt. it’s just so perfect and so true to the person he is in the fic. about his characterization, god i love it so much. all of the pain and yearning and sheer want in his person were clearly conveyed thru his perspectives and his actions. like that boy just wants to be loved and that’s why it made such good narrative sense to have daichi ask him who he loves more in the scene right before the ending. like i saw the tag for death and expected a million things but u somehow managed to surprise me and yet still stay true to the world and characters u created and ugh, it’s all so perfect.

speaking of, the pacing of this fic is so good. like u manage to take us thru a whirlwind time period that doesn’t feel fast or drawn out or anything other than perfect. u have such a good awareness of pacing that it makes me so jealous and yet so pleased as a reader. like nothing about their love confessions or trysts felt rushed or forced. it felt so natural and true to the people they were and the world that they live in.

also i said before in the other ask how i love the way u utilize sex scenes in the fic. u sprinkle them in at just the right moment and they manage to be hot but they also reveal so much about the characters involved. like i’m specifically thinking of the scene in tanaka’s home where she asks why he won’t touch her and he says that she didn’t give him permission. like the love and devotion in that way of thinking felt so true and yet in the end he still did it and ugh that breaks my heart in the best way bc i know my pain as a reader is nothing next to his pain as a character. i would actually love to pick ur brain about how u decided on the ending. did it come to u in the moment or did u set out writing the fic knowing it would end up like that? so many questions rlly bc u created a world and a cast of characters that are so interesting like i would literally read books about them. (esp val. i loved how headstrong and proud she was but also how weak and emotional she could be. her ending made me sad but u kno, it made sense) and i’m especially curious to find out how tanaka copes after. like i can’t imagine that daichi would just accept his loyalty again but u do manage to surprise me in the best way so who knows. but i also mourn for him which is a little odd for me bc after finding out that he knew about daichi’s affair i felt betrayed and it hurt for some reason which is so interesting bc i trusted him and felt like i knew him, but u still managed to keep parts of him hidden, which is so cool.

oh and despite the tragic ending, u fed us so good with scenes of the two everywhere. like i love how we got to see tanaka and val in their own homes and at parties and we truly got to see how they act when they’re alone and when they’re comfortable and when they’re playing the part of loyal bodyguard or loyal wife. ugh it’s all so good and tbh i only finished it like maybe half an hour again but i already want to read it again bc it was so fucking good and the way u write emotions like yearning and heartbreak is so good like ugh. everything about the way u wrote this fic was so amazing and fuck tumblr for eating my ask but i hope i at least manage to repeat the majority of what was in the og ask lol.

hello anon <3

It is the weekend so I finally have enough brain power to reply.

I wanted to be selfish and keep this in my inbox forever, because this might be the kindest, most appreciative thing everyone has ever said to me about my writing. Toska is a piece of my heart and my soul in written word, and to have received something like this? It’s... indescribable. You have picked up on so many of the small details, symbols, and more that I littered throughout the fic, and you’ve called out the things that I was excited about people reading and reacting to.

Fic Spoilers below the cut.

everything is so well done and all of those things are super hard to pull off on their own so props to u for being able to do all of those.

Thank you so much. I constantly worried that it was too long, too boring, that there wasn’t enough smut in there to be sexy, or that the plot ultimately didn’t make sense. This means everything to me. Pacing is one of the most important things in a fic to me, because I am the kind of person that easily loses interest when I read. 

details. i love the way u include the little things in the fic.

ahhhhhhhhh!!!! I’m glad this helped you to picture everything! I actually used real life dresses, shoes, locations (google Villa La Vigie, it is STUNNING). I was a fashion student, and I now work in the fashion industry so small details to convery luxury is extremely important to me. I love that it made all the difference to you.

i could literally write paragraphs about how well u included symbols in this fic.

fuck, wow. this. This is what I was truly hoping for. I love figuring out foreshadowing in movies, in books, in tv series. I try to write things that foreshadowing what going to happen in the end throughout of every one of my fics, but this is the first time someone called it out, and I am truly grateful for it. The viper necklace thing is a moment I was very proud of. and when Tanaka tells Val to stop talking about Daichi when they’re alone on the bed together: that’s the first instance where we see his guilt that he knows. Also, when Tanaka says “why dont i finish what I started,” is another thing I linked to the ending.

the way that action happens in the fic is so well done and not predictable but still in line with what you’ve revealed to us about the characters.

kasjsdfhksjdfsd I always thought people could see right through me and how I was going to end it!!!!!!! This means so much thank you! I kept thinking, “fuck people know he’s going to kill her, this is so predictable, all these extra scenes are so boring, is it even worth it?” so AH thank you!

thank you again for the pacing comment <3

i love the way u utilize sex scenes in the fic. u sprinkle them in at just the right moment 

hehehehehehe this makes me very happy. tbh, I wasn’t expecting there to be SO MUCH PLOT when I wrote this fic. I had mapped everything out and planned for it to be about... 5k? words? It ended up being 21k all together lmao. I actually thought there wasn’t enough smuttiness in the entire thing, so thanks for letting me now that it was just the right amount. I was worried because the only time I actually describe them fucking with Tanaka’s dick inside her, is that measley one paragraph at the Monte Carlo Casino. When I realised that, I was in utter shock. I was texting @mindninjax in the discord server like “FUCK. I can’t believe I haven’t actually written sex sex.” Then I went into thinking how disappointed people were going to be and phew, it was a whirlwind of a night.

i would actually love to pick ur brain about how u decided on the ending. did it come to u in the moment or did u set out writing the fic knowing it would end up like that? so many questions rlly

ask away, send in questions. I built this world beyond what I’ve written. I have character layouts and plans for every person I introduced, and have ideas for fics on all of them.

To answer your question, I knew exactly how I wanted it to end before I began writing. That end scene is what I thought of first. Exactly like that, with it being cut off mid-sentence to represent her being shot. That sort of “boom” or feeling of shock where you just stare at the screen is the exact reaction I wanted to get when I finished writing, so I hope that is what happened.

So just, thank you so much anon. For everything, for taking the time to write out this ask a second time after Tumblr ate the first one. It has kept me going since the day you sent it. I really appreciate you, and please, chat to me anytime x

Thank you.

Spasiba x

[enigmatist17]

The Mark of a Bullet (Sir Hammerlock x Wainwright Jakobs)

Y’all Y’all

I cannot wait to play their wedding DLC, I am almost there.

But have this in the meantime, because y e s I love them so m u c h my baby Hammerlock deserves happiness

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

Alistair Hammerlock enjoyed a challenge, of course, he did. Leaving his namesake, which had not been as hard as one would have assumed, freed him of some terrible shackles. The world and its infinite treasures and adventures were his for the taking, and Alistair couldn’t be happier. His renown in the hunting community exploded in such a short time, and within 10 years Hammerlock became synonymous with Alistair and his hunting. Pandora became his home after some time, Alistair happy to study and track until the war came. He was never one for shooting people and dissidents, but hunting fell to the background as he helped the small band of people try and defend their home from Handsome Jack. After the liberation of Pandora, Alistair moved on as he always did, and found himself on Eden-6. For most people, paradise did not involve swamp creatures and other horrors, but for Alistair, it was absolutely perfect. He was settled in a small town for close to a month when the head of Jakobs corporation invited him for a hunting trip. Never one to turn down a hunt, nor the rather delicious free food and exquisite ammunition, Alistair took the invite.

Where he came for Montgomery Jakobs, Alistair instead finds himself falling for Wainwright Jakobs. 

He arrived two days into the hunt, startling Alistair and receiving a bullet to his shoulder. It wasn’t the greatest of meetings, the two bickering as Alistair expertly tends to the wound in record time.

“Do you go ���round shootin’ every person ta come near you?” Wainwright snarled, watching the hunter roll his eyes as he pulls out the bullet.

“Do you find it acceptable to come around and brazenly confront a hunter amid the hunt?”  Wainwright spluttered at the accusation, ears turning red as his father and associates laughed in the background. 

“Here I thought big game hunters knew everythin’ about their surroundings.”  It was now Hammerlock’s turn to shoot a look, pulling back to burn the now bloodied bandages.

“I was not aware I had to also lookout for a surprise newcomer, mister?”

“Wainwright Jakobs.” Alistair cocked his head slightly, unaware the heir to Jakobs corporation was even aware of the hunting expedition. “You must be the famous Sir Hammerlock then, hmpf.”

“Indeed I am.” Despite the huff, Alistair was more amused now than irritated, offering a hand to the other. “Do you often hunt with a shotgun?” 

“I don’t hunt at all.” Wainwright winced as he carefully stretched out his arm, the injury only letting him about halfway. “I am far more comfortable with a good book by a fire, rather than out in the mud and grog intestines. I am here by request of my father, who is under the impression this is all for business.”

“Oh, dear.”  Wainwright raises an eyebrow at the tone, but the hunter says nothing, merely escorting Wainwright to their makeshift camp. The hunt goes on for three days, Alistair hiding back growing irritation as the head of Jakobs and his business partners operated with reckless abandon. The hunter had heard rumors of avoiding any invitation by the CEO, and now he fully understood. The only saving grace was Wainwright, much to Alistair’s surprise.

Despite not enjoying the heat and swamp, Wainwright was learning tricks of the trade rather quickly. Sure, his aim was nonexistent and his brash footing was leaving a lot to be desired, but for the most part, Wainwright was a fast learner. They were up late each night, speaking about music, philosophies, books, any and every topic they could think of. The two end up staying an extra day, Montgomery bidding a hasty farewell after realizing that Hammerlock had no part with his parents’ company, and therefore was effectively not worth his time. Wainwright seemed to almost transform the moment his fathers’ vehicle was out of sight, shoulder’s loosening as he cracks open some brandy. 

Hammerlock returns to his humble lodge after bidding Wainwright goodbye and finds his research was rather...lonely without the company. Alistair had never been one to seek out company for his work before, but those short days with Wainwright had been rather lovely. Taking a week-long expedition, that most certainly wasn’t extended because he got slightly lost, Hammerlock is glad to see his abode and pauses when he notices the door is ajar. Readying his pistol, Alistair slowly opens the door and points his gun at the figure standing in the living room. 

“Are we going to meet with your gun always between us?” Wainwright sounds amused, but Hammerlock can tell he is nervous after hearing his pistol click.

“Perhaps that would end if you approached me in my sight.” The pistol is holstered, and Wainwright turns with a slightly bashful look. 

“Fair point, fair point.” There is a freshly cooked meal on the table, and Alistair can’t help but be grateful at such a sight. “I heard you would be returnin’ soon, and as such thought ta offer a good meal.”

“How very kind of you.” Alistair doesn’t mind the small amount of grime he sullies the couch with, knowing there will always be later to clean. They both slip into a conversation as if they had never parted ways, the late hour slowly turning to early morning as they continued. It should be silly, men in their late forties and early fifties respectively laughing and regaling each other with stories like teenagers. A night turns into a week, Wainwright taking Alistair around for an in-depth tour of Eden-6. It’s late one night when gazing up at the myriad of stars on the roof of Hammerlock’s cabin, that Jakobs leans over and captures the hunter’s lips in a kiss. For just a moment, Alistair freezes at the contact but is soon moving his flesh and bone hand to caress the side of Wainwright’s jaw. They eventually part and Alistair suddenly thinks that coming to Eden-6 had been his wisest choice throughout his career.

It only hits him a few days later, bidding Wainwright a goodbye after escorting him home, what that feeling of utter peace meant. When Alistair arrives at his own abode, his shirt is quickly yet efficiently removed. Just above his left nipple, a patch of skin that had always been barren was finally alight with a symbol. The design, still in the process of solidifying with dark hues of reds, greens, and blacks, appeared to be forming the most ornate shotgun Alistair had ever seen, crossed over his own infamous sniper rifle.

Coincidentally, it looked suspiciously like the personal gun of one Wainwright Jakobs.

Some grogs were momentarily stirred from their slumber by a loud bout of elated laughter. 

The symbol solidifies the day before Wainwright offers Hammerlock a permanent place in his own estate. The hunter moves in with no hesitation, the housekeeping staff clustering around the study door that evening. They can see Hammerlock shedding his shirt, saying something and pointing to himself before Wainwright lets out a loud bout of laughter. The symbol on Alistair had now grown to fill the entire upper left side of his chest, Wainwright reaching out and touching it with an expression neither of the staff had ever seen before.

It was pure adoration.

Hammerlock says something to other man, who gives a shrug before shedding his own coat and shirt. It was clear he was slightly shy, a bit soft around the middle from his simple gunsmith work, whereas Hammerlock was built and toned from his occupation. The hunter seems not to mind at all, eyes drawn to Wainwright’s back when he turns around. Alistair’s prized journal, one that only Wainwright had been blessed to see, was seemingly tattooed onto his back. Astonishingly the pictures displayed moved, flickering both from what he had drawn over the years, to images of Eden-6. It was rare for one’s soulmate mark to be so vivid, and even rarer to change its shape at will, or in this case, it’s pages and images. The eldest staffer finally shoos everyone away when Alistair kneels down, spindly fingers tracing over Wainwright’s mark as if he was touching gold. 

“This is just astonishing.” Hammerlock can’t help but breathe, the roll of his breath across Wainwright’s back making the shorter man shiver.

“So you’ve said near hundred times I reckon.” Despite feeling a bit inadequate at the moment, the Edenian can’t help but feel his heart flutter. Catching sight of his own mark in the mirror just a day ago had sent a feeling of...peace when he realized just what it was. He had nearly scared some of the staff running to and fro, ordering various rooms to be prepared as if for many guests. Thoughts of personal space and potential unwant had faded the moment Hammerlock had arrived. The hunter and the gunsmith had shared a look that felt like it had lasted years, the world just settling in a way that had never been before.

It felt like they had finally found steady ground, and had taken to privacy almost immediately. 

Alistair and Wainwright end up sitting on his bed, the gunsmith on his stomach as Alistair touches and kisses what seemed every inch of his mark.

“A gentleman might get a right jealous of attention like that.” He chuckles, and Alistair sits up with his own amused look.

“Well, I suppose I shall have to rectify this posthaste, shall I not?” Wainwright all but blinks, and Alistair has settled beside him as if they had done this a thousand times.

“I suppose you should.” Wainwright sits up slightly when he notices Hammerlock shift, clearly becoming uncomfortable in his prosthetics. “Do you need some assistance ?”

“I can manage a few hours longer.” Alistair shrugs, finding the slight frown that crosses his partners’ face almost adoring. Mhm, calling him partner so soon? Hammerlock knew that soulmate bonds could be potent, but never before had he ever thought of such a thing happening to himself. He would have laughed, shaking from his thoughts when he feels his prosthetic arm be worked free with its’ quiet pop. “Winny, a heads up if you don’t mind!”

“Winny?” Alistair can’t help the faint blush that flares up, the nickname having slipped without a thought.

“I...you see.” Any excuses that he could have come up with fade when the other starts shaking, clearly holding back some laughter.

“Ain’t never had a nickname before...I like it.” This man and his endless enthusiasm for all things, were most definitely going to be the end of Alistair, absolutely. 

“Yes, Wainwright is a fair mouthful, and I find that Winny, well it suits you, my dear.” Wainwright is now the one blushing, Alistair removing his leg prosthesis with practiced ease, setting both it and the arm on the bedside table. Hammerlock barely sits back before he is swept up into Wainwright’s arms. They shuffle a little bit, and soon Hammerlock has his head tucked into the crook of Wainwright’s neck, rather appreciating how soft the other was against his scrawny back. He feels soft and slightly calloused hands brushing along the designs of his mark, hearing a soft chuckle as Wainwright traces his own gun. The hunter doesn’t even feel himself falling asleep, having never felt so unguarded and safe to do so. It’s the first time in years he sleeps without nightmares or pain and knew that hopefully, this would be the beginning of something wonderful.

[thecrenellations]

Thick as Thieves Undead-Blog, Part Two | when your liveblog wakes up to drink some broth then goes back to sleep smiling because it trusts you | my notes from reading the book for the first time, Spring 2017

Format: Page number. My ridiculous thoughts (Context???)

Part One

Chapters 6-13:

Ch. 6 - Very intense chapter in which Kamet and Costis are captured by the slavers and escape

163. Costis <3 Muscles Good looking! (wow what a way to start this post)

one hot piece of attolian manflesh ... confirmed (people would call him this on LJ! I forgot about it for several years until reading this passage)

164. omg earring swallowed!

166. amanuensis? (perennial thanks to mwt for all the vocab words)

168. shit. severed hand.

172. wtf Costis don’t kill him

173. how do you silently kill someone like that?

174. wow fuck

men dead not even breathing hard. (compare to KoA assassination)

Everyone is a monster!

176. Thieves.

Ch. 7 - Lots of good conversation, potentially symbolic animals, and a surprise Eugenides

183. Grt scene (apologies)

184. now who’s asking rude questions? (about killing people)

186. lying to him <3

ok! unreliable narrator!

wait i thought they didn’t have slaves in Attolia?!

187. “I was unappreciated” ... I’m always lonely

so cute

188. me when mwt writes: what is this blatant unabashed fanservice?

WHO IS THIS BOY?!

189. Onarkus =/= Sandy?

190. okaaay #confirmed Gen!

191. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Boots

195. he caught a snake (associated with a certain king and assumed bootboy “you viper” “you are a poisonous little snake” ... another ominous dead animal)

Is Costis’s earring for Eugenides (I was thinking of the god!)

196. a goat and a snake .... how poetic

Costis stalks goat ...

197. hmmm.... goat and hand and last trace of Nahuseresh (OMINOUS)

does Irene know her husband was a bootboy?

203. no this what? (“trouble with a maid” story exchange)

Marin?

204. he was prepared to run away??

how old was he?

well this is a lot to chew on

205. K using past tense for N

C asking about slaves killed after emperor’s death... does he know?

Ch. 8 - This road trip was going great until SOMEONE fell in a well

208. Are Taymets taller than Eddisian mountains?

210. time passing, broad and focused

212. MY Attolian

classic minor mwt characters

215. singing Costis???

216. swearing gimme a break

please don’t let the Namreen kill them later...

217. Kamet says very little of what HE did/his interactions w them!

218. wot nice cut! (“Eleven days later...”)

gods?

219. “water finds a way” a saying from Eddis? how does C know that? also brings to mind QoA weather passages

Why doesn’t Kamet ask/wonder WHY Gen wants him?

223. They’re gonna do it? They’re gonna make it? So close!

224. does Eddis have comparable irrigation engineering?

227. NO!

228. u idiot you meant to leave him before!!!

at least look in the freaking well!!!

229. Kamet’s Face! wow he’s really in shock (at weapons shop)

230. SUCH FAMILIAR PHRASING! birds :( (I was caught up in the birds and completely missed the spilled wine!)

Ch. 9 - Retrieving Costis from the well, Ennikar appears again

231. “You’re certain he’s dead?” nice CUT

this time i heard him say?

was he talking?

232. thoughtfully tensing his lower lip?

who tf is this guy - another god?

mm grr I’m Kamet I have no friends

ok so he’s what’s his face Enkidu?

heroes walk the streets

234. AAH why

say his fricking name?!

god you’re so bad @ this

236. THIEF

237. FRIEND OMG

238. omg so good flour!

SO CUTE I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THIS

239. OMG Costis. Nice. (Costis tries the Gen method of deflecting concern)

241. “as if we were close friends traveling together???”

242. Costis ... knows a hero when he sees one?

But ... delighted? not horrified?

Ch. 10 - Hanging out with Godekker

247. SO MANY HELPFUL STRONG MEN (Enter Godekker)

249. PAY THE FASTENER

253. god so snarky

254. Kamet’s chops

fuck how is this book going to end???

256. You’ll never feel safe ... Gen + Relius’s fears?

258. Fuh!

259. Ok do i have hope?

he doesn’t have Tethys lesions does he?

263. aahhhh

Costis trusts him!!!! <3

aaahhh

264. Noli? where did he get that from?

smarrrt

265. yeah u did tell Godekker your name!

wtf is this god advice!

268. The So, so, so count in this book is OUT OF CONTROL!!! It may be a record.

Ch. 11 - Kamet’s stressful voyage

270. Lol Sophos is better @ assuming Attolian ships are there...

272. yesssss earring GOOD

274. yeah sure Kamet you still haven’t left!

I did not want to leave the Attolian!

276. watching Costis

277. my heart’s gonna break don’t leave, Kamet!

278. “as if the gods had cursed my wandering feet” nice. also iambic pentameter

also laying it on a bit thick there

280. Sea in the Middle of the World!

he’s so scared though. :(

the fuckin nerve!

Costis + Gen and their s3cr3t sign

281. nooooo it’s ok to lie, it’s endearing in this world!

also Costis seriously why do you think he would be ok w/ this!

I’m coming home! (to Attolia. In cursive, see image at top of post.)

282. war?

Ch. 12 - Dramatic times in Attolia

284. “I thought we were I + E” :o

shit where is his honor now (”I would have let you go”)

285. hey there Teleus...

my heart

285. yeah but C probs knows all those guards ... he thought punching Gen was the most embarrassed he’d been... (in retrospect, I don’t think he was embarrassed AT ALL during this scene. Costis fight mode was activated.)

yeah I mean she has given us the Magus all this time! (reflecting on the fact that Costis’s name has yet to appear)

286. Yesss angry Costis poking Teleus!

This is Something to imagine

287. THIS IS REALLY BAD (”the queen”)

OK...

holy shit

when is this???

she’s not THAT old!

288. THE room? (“filled with all the horrors I had fled in Ianna-Ir”)

289. 298 pages until this! (“Costis”)

289. Please stay alive Irene!

On some level I do feel that my childhood is ruined w the confirmation they banged. :( Gen is like 20! (Listen. I love them. I'm very happy for them. This is not exactly breaking news. 20-year-olds, and this one in particular, can obviously do anything they want. This note brought to you by me being Too Ace For This and having been both younger and older than him since first reading the books a very long time ago...)

292. Gggennn

293. Is this court respect a recent development? WHAT DID I MISS? (they watched him fight the entire guard, is what, c’mon me. Costis hit him on the head with an amphora.)

yeah we get it people underestimate Eugenides

OH MY COSTIS

294. is this Annux by any chance?

Boys ur making a scene!

King of Attolia vs of Attolians?

295. very ... dramatic

this is ... a private convo?

297. yup he’s Eddis’s best stalker!

Ch. 13 - Everything else that happens in this book!

298. “Do they know?” yeah wtf Gen

it’s like the new “and every1 was naked” (in KoA)

“and every1 was watching”

300. Gen: Yo Helen can u bring me that one coin?

Helen: sure. no prob

301. “Poor Costis”

yeah Melheret always sneaks up

302. “You’ve come from the prisons, not how an honored guest is usually received” UM ACTUALLY...

305. Kamet.... (crying in his room)

306. “the kind of Attolia sitting on the footboard” oh my god yeah classic

307. Irene comes thru with the stats

Was Kamet at the battle at Ephrata?

310. talk with the kitchen staff good god i would like to know. So bizarre.

lol toting around an ambassador all nite? What would Teleus say?

while Irene’s sick ...

WTF will Costis do now?

312. names ... Kamet ... Ormentiedes? 

Creeeeeeeeepy Relius (probably about “there are some questions you might answer for us” but possibly about the cutting up and feeding to wolves comment)

314. business arrangement uh sure

Yeah ok write it all down

316. talking to Costis?

(a note: the version I read was an advance reader copy, and the only major difference was that it did NOT include the scene with “the young Erondites”)

318. Attolia smiled at him!

anything worth doing is worth overdoing lol

319. alternate readings of poem?

322. orange trees!

cabbages!

324. sent Onarkus away RECENTLY???

Is Brinna Sandy!

Seriously. 

Cooks r weird (thinking about the entry for cooks in the Tough Guide to Fantasyland)

326. the magus!

an ACHING void

oh I know I’ll just GO!

poor Gen can’t have any friends...

331. they have duffles in Attolia

and with Attolian duffles, the story ends! Thanks for reading, feedback is welcome. I promise I have more developed thoughts about this book. For another weird journey, listen to my Thick as Thieves playlist, maybe.

[jksangelic]

peaches & piercings (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: punk!jimin, e2l, college au, very explicit smut, one-shot, jimin is a whole asshole

↳ pairing: cheerleader!reader x punk!jimin

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, sub/dom themes, casual sex, be t r ay a l, alcohol (and weed? idk) consumption, oral sex (male receiving), squirting, thigh-fucking, kind of exhibitionism?, jimin is pierced (that’s all i’ll say), just expect the worst from me tbh

↳ summary: jimin, dipped in hair-dye and pierced in so many places that you just couldn’t keep track, doesn’t think you’re his “type”. you call bullshit.

↳ note: i reallyreallyreally hated this fic. loved the idea, hated how i wrote it. i’ve had this bad boy sitting in my archives for months and months and months and couldn’t gather the courage to post it until NOW! partially because this is an apology fic for my inactivity and more so because i just think i’ve read it too many times that at this point, i’m just being nit-picky and need to move on.

a special thanks to the lovely @14statelier whomst unwillingly received dong pics for the sake of this fic. i’m so glad i found someone as sweet as you to beta for me + become an even better galpal! love u always xx

also thanks to my gal @jungshookz, i’m pretty sure (78% positive) i sent her my idea via snapchat and was probably inspired by her in some way, per usual.

OKAY i’m done you can read now hehehe

↳ words: 11.6k

↳ parts: one | two (complete)

“Jungkook, if you’re not going to throw it then get your grabby hands off my waist,” you warn, eyeing him as he stands behind you and delays in one-manning you into an extension or ogling your ass in your skirt.

           “You’re just so wobbly today, I’m waiting for you to chill out a bit,” he lies with a smirk. You smack his hand but exhale deeply as you firmly grasp his wrists and count.

           “1, 2!” With mutual timing, Jungkook dips down with you before heaving your body above, squatting to catch your heels mid-air, and pumping back up into an extended position. He’s right, you wobble a bit, calling out, “Bail!” and feeling his hands disappear beneath to re-catch your thighs and bring you down safely on your toes. You curse silently under your breath but pat Jungkook’s shoulder as a symbolic “thank you”.

“It’s too fucking early for this, I’m tired,” you say, only making excuses for yourself.

“Well, liven up. The doors are going to open soon and no freshmen want to join a failure of a cheer team.”

“Hey, stop bickering,” the captain, Suzy, orders, “Y/N, you’re fine to just handle the flyers, I’ll stunt with Jungkook.” You squish her into an exhausted hug.

“This is why you’re captain,” you coo.

With that, some of the staff open the gym doors, welcoming an intimidatingly large group of people in with smiles. You fake one yourself, ready to get this over with as soon as possible so you can go back to your dorm and sleep. Within ten minutes, you had a group of girls and a handful of brawny guys already watching Suzy and Jungkook’s exhibition, a mixture of oohs and ahs being rewarded. You handed each of them a thin, poorly-made flyer with pixelated clipart of a girl doing a toe-touch before they scrambled.

After a while, most of the initial commotion dies down and you people-watch each clueless face, thinking how adorable they are, so young and so lost, as if it weren’t you only a few months ago. You’re only a sophomore, but in your head that gives you enough authority to judge the freshmen.

You snap out of your daze upon boots clicking in the distance, soon revealing a man seemingly darting through the crowds to exit across the other side. You would’ve ignored him if it wasn’t for his peachy-tinted hair, long and slicked back atop and close-shaven near his neck, his thin but fit stature dressed in all-black, and the glint of metal, that you soon realized was a septum piercing, in his nose. He has a dark sleeve consuming his right arm and you wonder what eighteen or nineteen year old has a fully-developed sleeve.

Although his eyes were covered with chunky black sunglasses (in the gym, at that), the rest of his appearance sent your pierced-and-tatted-hot-boy alarm berserk. Suddenly awake, you wait for him to head closer to your booth before hopping next to him.

“Hi there, freshie. Care to take a tryout flyer for this year’s cheer team?” you ask with a pitch that’s much higher than your own, kindly handing him one of the shitty-looking papers. He mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch but speaks before you can ask him to clarify.

“Not a freshman. Do I look like someone who cheers? I’m just looking for the counseling center to turn in my transfer papers.

“Also, can you, like, give me some personal space?” he continues in a mock valley-girl tone.

You jump back, completely caught off guard with his sudden hostility and attempting to regain your composure by clearing your throat. Someone must’ve shoved a stick up his ass this morning.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Once you leave the gym, you head right, pass two sets of restrooms, head left, and it’s behind the big statue where the foyer is.” Your voice sounds much better.

His eyebrows rocket upwards over his glasses, completely frazzled by the number of directions you gave him, “Shit, okay. That’s a lot.”

“Here, I’ll just walk you,” you say, not giving him any time for him to probably decline. You don’t even question if he’s following you or not, the obvious clunkclunkclunk of his boots giving it away.

Unsurprisingly, the man doesn’t try to talk to you on the way to the counseling center. At most, he walks side-by-side, at least three meters between you for good measure. And even though it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk, you ring him out a little more anyway.

“So, you’re not a freshman. Underclassman or upperclassman? And you’re a transfer? From where?”

Pass two sets of restrooms and head left.

“Senior. From Busan.” He doesn’t even show a hint of feeling. Emotion. Does this guy even breathe?

Straight until the statue in the foyer.

“Great. Well, it was nice to meet you, senior from Busan. I’m Y/N. If you ever need help or anything, feel free to ask me,” you deadpan, swiveling on your feet to salute him.

He leans on one hip, taking a hand with an incredible amount of rings on it and pushing his sunglasses over his hair like a headband. You certainly weren’t expecting a reveal of the kindest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He almost looks permanently sleepy—eyes drooping flat on the lid. Your trance distracted you from his brief once-over, unpredictably impressed by your looks, if he had to admit it.

“It’s Jimin. Jimin, senior from Busan. See you around, cheerleader,” he says with a sly tilt of his lips before swinging the door open and slithering into the office. Past all the glitter and bright colors that poured out of that hideous uniform of yours, Jimin found you really cute.

Jimin waits patiently for the front desk to call him up, lounging in one of the hard, black plastic chairs that never failed to give his ass cramps. Though he didn’t seem like it to new faces around the campus, he was ecstatic to be starting college again in a whole new atmosphere. He even got to room with another male originally from Korea, Min Yoongi, in a small condo not too far a walk from the area.

He could even prospect cuties like you during his year, undoubtedly positive he could busy himself judging by the attention he’s attracted so far. All it would take is a hungry stare, a lick of his lips, an all-knowing smirk. It was easier here than it was back home, if not child’s play. He could have you in three hours flat. But then he thinks of you choosing the obnoxious cliché of college cheerleader and cringes at the idea of associating himself with such… American-ness. He could at least go for some sort of indifferent, grunge hipster that might actually have some thought to her. Yeah, more his style.

The woman at the front finally calls for him, so he arranges his papers and shoos away any daydream of hooking up with the girl in a tight skirt and ankle socks.

Taking the long route back to the gym, your imagination sputters through all the possible reasons why you should hate that guy, bad-guy radar ringing and shrieking and threatening to punch you square in the eye if you even think about it. Eventually, it comes to the conclusion that he was just new, he was probably having a rough moving-in, and you shouldn’t judge a transfer by their hair. Book by its binding? You don’t really remember how the saying goes in this situation.

“Hey, good job on snaking yourself out of flyer duty. What, did you bang Asian Hot Topic on your way?” Jungkook snickers.

“And did Cait break up with you because you can’t dom for shit? Hand me my jacket.”

He guffaws, practically throwing the clothing at your face, “We didn’t break up, asswipe. How am I supposed to act when she suddenly calls me ‘daddy’ without previous warning? I’m not ready to be a father.”

“Kook, you’re dumb as shit. Maybe I should bang Asian Hot Topic and give you pointers of how a real dom works their magic.”

Jungkook crosses his arms in denial, “Pfft, you don’t even know him. He could be a receiver for all you know.”

One, two, three seconds. You both chortle at the impracticality.

You take one final look in the body mirror, adjusting the slinky grey dress and hanging an oversized burnt-orange corduroy jacket over your shoulders for that final touch of unnecessary, but fashionably-adept, garnish to your outfit cupcake. Not having enough time to do your hair, you sweep it over to one side and leave it as is.

“You look fine and you’re ten minutes late so get out already,” your roommate, Sara, whines. She practically pushes you out, slamming and locking the door for emphasis.

Waving off your discombobulated roommate, you start your trek to the humanities building (which is so far away) with a skip in your step. A new school year meant new people, new classes, more lunchtimes with subpar food and occasional parties that could potentially lead to you getting arrested. Who knows!

A new school year, however, didn’t mean that you would know your way to your new class apparently. Bummer.

It’s only by your fourth circle and a glance at your phone that you panic, fifteen minutes somehow passing in the midst of your scrambling. Pace quickening, you pull out your paper with sloppily written notes of what class room number was at which time, simultaneously half-jogging past classrooms and—

“Oof!”

You land straight on your ass.

“Ow, watch where you’re going stu—oh, it’s you.”

You look up groggily, pain stinging through your legs from the brunt of your fall and lazily making eye contact with a pair of puppy dog eyes. Jimin stands above you, rubbing his chin where, you suppose, your forehead made rough contact with and indiscreetly staring at your bright blue panties where your dress failed to cover.

Hopping up and dusting yourself off, you pick up your fallen bag and paper before glaring at him, “Sorry, I got lost and wasn’t paying attention.”

He scoffs, “Aren’t you the cheerleader? You’re supposed to be, like, the girl scout of the school, right? You shouldn’t be lost.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well. I am,” you mutter to yourself, “I don’t even think there’s a 207 in this building…”

“Oh, 207? Intro to psych, right? That’s where I’m going too,” he admits, eyes blown wide. Welp, certainly not the highlight of your morning.

“Great. By the looks of the current time, we’re both lost and,” you wave around the empty corridor, “there’s no one who’s going to help us.”

“I’m not lost. I just woke up late,” he answers nonchalantly, a warm glow to his face like he couldn’t give two damns about his class.

“W-What? Then let’s go! Where is it?”

Jimin twirls and walks a different direction, mumbling, “I’m not your escort, rich girl.”

You prattle at his comment but follow him anyway. When you find the correct lecture hall, you groan at the fact that you already passed it several times. He opens the door quietly, not even bothering to hold it for you as you scramble to catch it. A couple of the back rows look back at you two, annoyed by the minor inconvenience.

“Well. Welcome to my 10AM psychology class at,” the professor booms through the hall and peeks at his wristwatch, “10:36. Go ahead and take these two free seats.”

Jimin shrugs and walks towards the front of the room, a quiet and embarrassed you tiptoeing behind him. Being this late and having to sit next to this ass wasn’t how you wanted your first day to go at all.

For the remainder of the 24 minutes until the first break, you skim over the contents that you missed in the syllabus and want to ram your head into the closest wall. Participation and attendance by themselves are 30% of your grade, homework and assignments (thank god) being a measly 20%, and the final plus tests and quizzes a hunking remainder of 50%. What even was this system?

During your ten minute break, you silently scroll through your phone notifications, setting it down irritatingly when the hall refused to grant you enough service to respond to any of them.

“Don’t have LTE, princess? Might as well watch paint dry without your phone to entertain you,” Jimin snickers beside you. You scowl menacingly at him and he giggles more.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but back off, Jimin. Sorry I don’t, like, play the electric guitar in my free time or whatever.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, still smiling and blowing bubbles with his gum, popping them quite obnoxiously, and quite intentionally.

“What, do you think I play the electric guitar? Are you stereotyping me as some sort of garage band drop-out punk?” he jesters.

“And do you take me for some sort of pink fuzzy consumerist? You don’t know me. Buzz off.”

Jimin had definitely tucked you into his mental folder of “tough gals”; his aloof tactic of flirting not seeming to penetrate that pretty skull of yours. He could just take the path of least resistance and approach you normally, but where was the fun in that? You were too interesting a specimen to just use-and-discard.

Jimin suddenly thinks you look attractive with furrowed brows and pouted lips. It was most definitely working for you, so he lets it slide for now. When class ends, you all but bolt before Jimin can even look your way, sure he’d find another surface flaw to pick at.

You suddenly think of what all of the adults in your life have said during your upbringing: people that went out of their way to bully you were either jealous or had an embarrassingly crushing “thing” for you. Jimin, on the other hand, was just annoying.

Of course, to your dismay, class isn’t the only time you ever saw him. You weren’t totally stupid. The campus didn’t stretch for miles and you were bound to see him sometime and have to deal with the efforts of avoiding the man at all costs but fuck were you praying to whoever controls your Sim above that they would grant you some mercy.

“Just tell him to fuck off if he’s so far up your ass,” Jungkook argues, crushing his juice box in one gulp and biting his massive cafeteria burrito.

“You don’t get it, Kook. I have. So many times, in so many different instances. Did I tell you about the time I thought he was helping me get a textbook from a tall shelf but he ended up taking that last one for himself?” You angrily rip a bite from your limp sandwich. You really did hate Turkey Thursdays.

“Eh, first come, first serve. Maybe he didn’t know you were trying to grab that one.”

“My ass, Jungkook. He claimed that if I really wanted it, I would ‘do something in fair exchange’ for it. I’m not looking to going into prostitution anytime soon.”

“Respect sex workers,” Jungkook criticizes.

“Oh, no, totally. Sex work just isn’t my forte.” Kook shrugs.

“Okay,” you continue, “how about the time I went to IKEA to buy that ceiling lamp and was obviously struggling to one-trip everything from my car? The dumbfuck passed by and asked if I needed help, so I was like, ‘Yeah! Sure, it would definitely make up for the time you asked for sex in lieu of my psych book,’ but instead of helping me carry anything he took my coffee, drank some, and left.” Jungkook starts a rebuttal but you cut him off short, “Then he showed up to my work the other day, god knows how he even saw me in there, and started taking a video of me when I wasn’t paying attention!”

“What the hell,” your friend sports a face of disgust, “like, he’s stalking you?”

You scratch the back of your neck, “Well, not exactly? I think he was just maybe—see, A$AP Rocky may or may have not been playing on the speakers, and I didn’t know anyone was in the shop! So. I don’t know. I started—”

“Started rapping with a rolled up poster as your microphone,” he deadpans. Finishing your horrid sandwich, you crumple the saran wrap and chuck it at his eye, satisfied when we wails exaggeratingly.

“Maybe that’s just his way of flirting with you, he’ll get bored eventually.”

“I think he just hates my guts and thinks of me as an equal to the gum under his thick, goth boots,” you mumble.

“Does it matter? So what if Danny Phantom doesn’t like you?”

“He’s causing a problem though. Besides, everyone cares if someone doesn’t like them. It’s bullshit if they tell you otherwise; bullshit or a lack of sympathy.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Because I’m totally your friend and all but I don’t necessarily want to hear about your boy problems all the time.” You harrumph at his negligence and slump back into your seat.

There really wasn’t anything you could do about it; it wasn’t bad enough to the point of distressing tyranny. You simply couldn’t befriend the guy, it was obvious he didn’t want that. You would just have to pray to all things good that he would eventually lose interest, stop harassing you out of kindness, or have a change of heart and treat you like the saint you were.

If only it were that easy.

Sylly-week kicked ass, to say the least. Even two days prior the hectic week from hell, your body aches from partying while your wallet cries from all the textbooks and supplies you paid for.

Sara slept beside you, forehead stuck to the desk with her laptop stuck on some sort of half-assed document and you couldn’t fathom a better picture to represent college.

Although it was already around 11, you hop out of bed and throw on your windbreaker from cheer and some spandex, shuffling into a pair of your sneakers and bolting out of your room with your bag. The amount of sodium and sugar you consumed from Cup-O-Noodles and off-brand cookie dough bites made you feel disgusting, and you know running a quick mile at the gym would get your blood pumping enough to make you: 1) feel better about yourself and 2) put your ass to sleep.

The walk is short, the air still a little heavy with heat but cool enough for you to be comfortable in a long-sleeve. Some tired students exit the library, really the only other people you see at this hour. You would’ve thought it creepy if the campus wasn’t so well-lit and played background music through the announcement speakers. If you died or got kidnapped, at least it was to some groovy jazz.

You swipe your card across the sensor beside the athletic building door, waiting for that subtle beep before the gears clank and allow you to heave the door open. Immediately, the smell of sweat poorly masked with air freshener fill your nostrils and your adrenaline builds. You’re no body builder, but a run certainly sounded nice right about now.

You practically skip through the halls, rounding a corner to enter the weight room before you stop in your tracks to see someone in the room across. You squint suspiciously, peachy hair striking a very strong familiarity to…

“Jimin?” you whisper to yourself. You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s at the gym, but you are because he isn’t. He’s in the dance studio. Before you bolt, your eyes glue to his sensual movements, legs gliding across the floor and body free-flowing alongside the bass-filled music. No previous bias could deny that he looks like an angel in his room, dancing smooth as meringue and practically skating across the floor despite those clunky black boots of his; and powerful, hitting every note and beat with intention and vigor. You’ve never seen anyone dance like this.

After a few seconds, you render that you’re spying on him and continue walking, nervously scuffing your sneakers down the linoleum and immediately, and unfortunately, catching his attention.

He first sees you in the mirror. Ignores you. Then realizes it’s you and turns into the most ungraceful bag-of-bones as he scurries to pause the music and chases you down the hall.

“Hey!” he yells, grabbing your elbow.

“Don’t touch me,” you strike back, jerking your elbow out of his grasp and staring him down.

He looks apologetic, genuinely worried for a second before he breathes deep and tries again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. Um, why are you here?”

“Um, because I can be? I was going to go to the gym, dickwad.”

It takes all of his patience not to insult you, “Okay. You’re right. Were you… were you watching me?”

You give him a sickeningly-sweet smile, “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just passing by.”

He nods solemnly, straightening his tank as if it wasn’t already wrinkled and damp with sweat, “Okay. Okay, cool.” He starts to turn before he keeps going in a 360.

“Can you keep this between me and you? That I was here? That I was here and I was—”

“Dancing?” you ask quizzically, “Why does it matter?”

His eyebrows stitch together in frustration, “Y/N, do I look like I’m a dancer?” He gestures to his piercings and his sleeve, waving his hands about in so many different places that your lewd curiosity wonders what he looks like naked—for the sake of knowing how many piercings and tattoos he has though, obviously.

“I think you look like a dancer. Just not a contemporary dancer. Did you take ballet?” you half-tease, crossing your arms and beaming slyly at him.

Jimin huffs, impatient, “Will you just keep it locked somewhere in that airhead of yours?”

“What’s in it for me, Jiminie,” you pout, “what do I get as reward for keeping your secret?”

He falters a moment, licking his plump lips and walking dangerously close, “You want a reward? I don’t take you as that kind of girl, Y/N.”

He must be delirious, eyeing him so and shoving him away, “Ew, no. I just meant, like, be nice to me from now on. And help me with psychology. That class is nothing but a memory test.”

He blinks dumbly from your rejection; who ever rejected him? He waves it off.

“Okay. I can be compliant. I won’t treat you like the rich bitch you are, and I tutor you on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Deal?”

“I’m not a rich bitch. I have student loans like the rest of the student population, thank you very much. Deal.”

You smile at each other devilishly, ready to part ways before bursting out with an instant, “Wait!”

Jimin looks over his shoulder curiously. Damn, you could really see how toned his shoulders were in that shirt.

“There’re dance majors here, is that what you transferred for?”

He turns all the way, leaning sideways against the wall and sighing, “Honestly, yes. But my family thinks I’m transferring to finish my business degree and that I would have better opportunities here. I really did it because there’s some great studios in the area but—” he catches himself rambling, “I don’t know how they would feel about my grand decision.”

You shrug, “You’re a great dancer, Jimin. Honestly, you could open your own studio here if you wanted to. You do have great opportunities.”

His sleepy eyes stare you down, a half-smile drawing itself out before he can take it back. “Give me your phone,” he orders.

You don’t know why but you do.

He dials into it with his overly-accessorized fingers, giving you a moment to get a closer look at his septum and the abundance of ear-piercings he sports before he hands it back. You’re pretty sure one of them is Gucci and you bite back a chuckle. Rich bitch.

“That’s my number. Text me when you’re free on study days.”

And with that, he re-enters his room and resumes the music.

The first time Park Jimin meets with you at a Starbucks on a Tuesday, like he instructed, you thought you somehow managed to get yourself stuck in the Twilight Zone.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. My last class ends at 3 on both days and there’s already a quiz this Friday. Help.”

 You sent the text without emojis. He didn’t deserve any.

You had barely got to Instagram before he texted you back. With multiple messages.

 “u text like a gramma”

“but ok”

“starbucks at 330? i’ll buy”

 You giggled to yourself at his joke, sending a single “(:” and putting your phone to sleep.

 To your disbelief, he really did buy you a cheese danish and a tall, iced, caramel macchiato. You sip it gingerly while he pulls his things out of his bag: a couple mechanical pencils (the industrial, expensive ones), a 1-inch binder organized by subject with dividers, and notecards. You grab them and hold them up like it’s evidence from a leading murder case.

“Notecards? You are way too organized and functional.”

He snags your pastry before you can grab it and takes a huge bite, “Yeah, but ih’s gonna het you a bedder ghrade.”

Whining, you get it back after his second bite, somehow only half remaining.

“Okay. Let’s get started. It should only be a vocab check because that’s really all he’s asked us to study so far. We’ll start with my wonderful notecards,” he waves them in the air for effect, “and see which ones you do and don’t know.”

You nod, waiting for the chaos to begin. Who were you to tell him that you haven’t actually studied any of the vocab yet? He holds the first one up. Abductive reasoning.

“Uhh… is that like, something detectives use on kidnapping cases?”

“Wh-What? No. Well—are you thinking of ‘abductions’? Abductive reasoning is being able to use the two states of induction and deduction alongside your intuition to reach a conclusion,” he pauses and tilts his head a little, “ I guess the best analogy is giving out a verdict on a criminal case. Without being 100% sure, they use the evidence to tie together as many different points as they can to come to a conclusion. So, I mean, you got it wrong, but you can easily remember the definition with that.”

You’ll take what you get (majority of his reasoning went through one ear and out the other, anyway), wiggling your eyebrows in justified approval. Jimin laughs at you, eyes squinting to slits and shaking his head. He takes notice that you aren’t wearing much makeup today, your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a tad red with irritation and a bit dry where the sun burnt and eyes daintier without so much eyeliner on them. You threw on a tank and some workout shorts and look like the epitome of… comfortable, in your head. Jimin thinks you look effortless.

“Park?” you wave your hand in front of him.

He catches himself staring and jumps out of his seat, chair screeching across the tile.

“Sorry,” he coughs, “I’m going to take a whiz.” Stupid. He practically trips over himself to get to the restroom.

You watch him hurry to the back. He probably had much better things to do than help you study in the middle of the afternoon. A couple of younger girls watch him as he passes, giggling like a pack of fangirls and combing their hair out of their faces. If they only knew.

Did he even have a girlfriend? Most likely not, right? He only just transferred here and despite his well-endowed looks, he was still intimidating. Like a giant “don’t touch, I bite” sign constantly hung around his neck.

He comes back shortly, and before you can deduct that you would rather save the embarrassment than to quench your curiosity, you ask, “Are you dating anyone?”

“Because you get a lot of followers,” you reason, shamelessly pointing out the girls who ogle his tattooed biceps. They giggle again when he looks their way. God, so many giggles.

He rubs the back of his neck nervously and that intrigues you, “No, I’m not dating anyone. I think if it weren’t for my… accessories? And the fact that I’m foreign, girls wouldn’t like me as much.” You find tiny comfort that he’s single but squish the thought away.

“How ‘bout you? Dating that guy on your team?” he retorts.

“Who, Jungkook?” you snort, “No. He has a girlfriend and he’s all brawn over brain. I’m not dating anyone, actually. I don’t like guys that are so competitive to win females strictly for the points, and there’s a lot of that here. S’gross; we’re not animals.”

“We kinda are,” he argues, but smiles understandingly.

“Okay, but not in the way where your possible significant other has to perform an instinctual mating dance?”

He juts up an eyebrow, “Really? Because I could easily arrange that.”

For the first time, you both laugh. At the same thing. Who knew that Jimin could dance of all things? And pay for your food? And actually be a nice guy who’s really smart? Thinking about it, today has gone so polar-opposite of what you expected that you contemplate if this is Jimin’s identical twin that just happens to have the same piercings and ink that bully-Jimin has.

Twilight Zone.

“Okay, let’s continue,” he says, resuming the queue of notecards.

“Define abulia.”

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Jimin waved a hand in your face.

“Hm? Sorry, say it again.”

Jimin packed up his supplies, then grabs yours and tucks them into your bag, “I said, ‘Are we going to your place right now?’ You said you picked up Black Panther on DVD so I want to watch it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Cats and shit.”

You both stand up and stretch, the rest of the students in the lecture hall slowly filing out. Midterms were already approaching, which meant that you and Jimin had known each other for quite some time now. His tutoring was ditched weeks ago after you were finally comfortable with the material and able to comprehend what the professor was saying without Jimin to interpret. At first, meeting up stopped completely. You two would talk occasionally during class break and that’s all, and after a while, you just figured your deal was completed and Jimin finished his case and you both separated onto your different ways.

But then Jimin had asked if you wanted coffee at the same Starbucks you had first studied at, but for no specific reason. Just to hang out. So, you did.

Hanging out once or twice for coffee turned into twice getting lunch turned into four or five times lazing about your dorm, and now, you were just completely, wholesomely, friends. It was hard not to be on edge at the contrast of current Jimin to hell-on-earth Jimin, but you took what you could get.

“Is something on your mind? You’ve been spacing out for a long time,” he prods, taking your bag himself and throwing it over the same shoulder his own bag was on. The

walk to your dorm building was short but you could feel your feet dragging from sudden exhaustion.

“I think I’m just tired? I’m fine. Ready to Black Panther it up and all that jazz,” you chuckle. He takes the hint and resorts to quietly humming to your room rather than talking. That’s one thing you liked about him, he always knew when your mind just needed simple white noise.

Unlocking the door and jostling it out of its stickiness, you make a running jump to faceplant onto your bed. The mattress dips next to you when Jimin sits.

“I know you like cheer and all, but I think you need to take a break,” he says.

“Easier said than done. And I have mandatory captain conditioning in 3 hours,” you groan, propping your head on the palm of your hand to watch Jimin as he eats a stale bag of chips that he found on your nightstand. His face contorts in repulsion and throws the bag away.

“Okay, well, you’re not going. Tell them you’re sick. Let’s watch some DC movies and eat popcorn and have, like, a girl sleepover but I’m not a girl and I don’t want to spend the night,” he says, counting each point on his fingers.

“First of all, you lunatic, it’s Marvel not DC. Second, I don’t have popcorn. I can’t just skip conditioning because if I gain one pound Jungkook will sense it with his nose or something and attack me.”

“What,” he says in disbelief, grabbing your waist with one hand and squeezing a little, “you’re fine. You’re not going today and that’s final.” It’s not very often he touches you and as much as you try not to show it, you feel your face heat and mouth gape open and closed, ready to combust. You don’t particularly know why; guys touch you all the time (not in that way, thank you very much) but when it was Jimin, it was like you had been raised feral and failed to receive any means of human interaction.

He notices, taking his hand away as quick as he placed it and looking at the floor. Despite your lack of proper reaction, you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little twinge of disappointment. God, you’re so confusing to yourself.

“How about you? Your vampire ass won’t dance in sunlight so you must be tired too. How long do you normally dance for when you’re in the studio?”

“Well,” he lays flat on his back and stares at your popcorn ceiling (your dorm building was extremely outdated), “I try to workout at the actual gym in the morning before I get ready for class, and then I dance from 11 to whenever I feel is enough during the weeknights. That is, if no one’s there.”

“Why do you even follow this whole path of disliking mainstream trends and ‘rebelling against the world’? Isn’t that tiring? Aside from dance, do you, like, make your own skateboards and go to secret underground bars or something?” you tease. He rolls his head towards you in annoyance and mouths a “ha ha”.

“No, I just. I don’t know. I don’t like people telling me what to do or where to go or how to look,” he showcases his tatted arm. “This is all mine. I don’t want to be another puppet controlled my whole life to consume and work off a never-ending debt just so I can only live comfortably when I’m old but too old to actually live.”

“Wow, bro. That’s deep,” you pretend to smoke a pretzel stick. He continues anyway.

“Recently I made some friends that are in one of my labs. They’re from Korea too. If I’m not studying or working or hanging out with you, I’m probably with them. Partying or something,” he says, stealing away your “cigarette” and crunching on it loudly.

“Woah, you work? How do you find the time to do that?”

“Kinda. Nothing official, I just tutor people sometimes. Charge them by the hour and make some decent pocket change for food or whatever.”

You contemplate. How come he’s never charged you for your tutoring before? You ask him, studying his side profile and admiring his jawline when he talks. Flexing then easing; taut then relaxed.

“Because we had a deal. We agreed that I would help you in psych as long as you kept my secret, in which you did, so I figured that was good enough. Besides, you’re too cute to charge. I look like a bad boy but I’m not evil.” You giggle, resembling a middle-school fangirl and exaggerating a flattered stature.

Jimin laughs again, light and refreshing staccato notes that you could honestly listen to all day. It was therapeutic in its own crackhead way.

You’ve been unintentionally staring at him more and more often, Jimin finally taking notice within the last few minutes. He knew how to read a girl; how revealing they make themselves to impress him or how their eyes dim in any sort of suggestion that his hands should somehow find place on their body. But with you, he has no idea what that stare means. For the most part, you carry yourself so independently to the point of being standoffish and Jimin just can’t figure you out. He sought the day you would give in and beg for a night with him just like most of the other girls in his classes did, and when you didn’t, he wanted to know why. Not out of inflated ego or need to get into your pants—okay maybe because of that initially—but even more so that he just needed to dissect you. Know how to get you going, what kind of person you really are, which was completely different from what he originally imagined.

You were talking amidst his thoughts, not paying attention to the strings of sentences that fell out of your lips and before he knew it, he held himself directly above you, hands on each side of your head and staring right down into your disordered doe eyes.

“What makes you so different?” he asks aloud, more to himself than you. Puzzled and not under the impression that it was a rhetorical question, you shake your head.

“I don’t u-understand. What are you doing, Ji—”

He tucks a loose strand of yours out of your face, causing you to hiccup. “I feel like when I think I know you, I’m actually far from it.”

You don’t particularly know what you’re supposed to say to that.

“You didn’t ever need to get to know me. You just needed to make sure I kept your secret,” you play along. Knowing it wasn’t really the whole case, your own statement stings a little. If it weren’t to save his own ass, would he even be here right now?

Like he read your mind, he answers, “Why would I be here? I haven’t needed to help you in weeks. I’m with you all the time because I want to be. Because I—”

“Because you…?” you trail on, heart beating so hard you swear he can hear it. You wanted him to say it, maybe that’s what was keeping you from confirming your feelings. You needed validation; that this wasn’t just you or that this was some one-sided longing because you doubted someone like him could ever like someone like you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks instead, so hesitant and delicate and worrisome all in one question and you ponder if this is the same boy you first met at orientation.

“Please.”

He dips down slowly, eyes half-closed in anticipation of what your face looks like so close, pausing an inch away when you shut your own. You feel his warmth near your mouth, waiting for that first touch, any contact, until it seems like it’s been far too long. When you peek, you see nothing but his perfect… cheekbone? He stares, jaw stuck open and eyes fluttering, at the intruder in the door before swinging himself off the bed and coughing awkwardly.

“Oh, Sara. I didn’t know you were coming home so early today,” you squeak out. You sit up yourself, brushing off nonexistent dust from the bed and watching Jimin gather his things in a rush and squeezing past a concerned Sara in the doorway. He doesn’t even turn back, ears stinging red and peeping a quick, havetogotextyoulater. Great, the asshole left you to face your roommate alone.

“Was that Jimin? Park Jimin? The fucking transfer student?”

“Oh my god, Sara, what’re you freaking out about?”

Dropping her stuff in the middle of the room, she shrieks annoyingly and grabs your shoulders, “Are you seriously fucking with the Park Jimin? Y/N. Nuh-uh. No way. Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Chill out! We’re just friends. He tutors me sometimes.” Not quite a lie.

She eyes you and deadpans, “Yeah, I didn’t know tutoring also included a one-on-one session of how to have sexual intercourse.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you remove her hands, which were digging crescents into your skin, and pretend to arrange your bed, “we haven’t even kissed. You just walked in at an inconvenient time.”

Sara sighs, rubbing her temples and sitting on your bed, “Look, babe. Just be careful. I’ve been to parties with him and have heard some awful things. Shit you expect from a movie where the girl gets fucked over because the guy doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. I just want the best for you, okay? He’s not as sweet as you might think he is.”

He isn’t sweet at all, you said internally. But still, your heart clenches at her words. Sure, he acts like a dick, and you shouldn’t be surprised if he really does get around as much as Sara suspects; but there was just some sort of denial that lingered. If he really was such a player, why would he have stuck around with you for as long as he has, as platonic as it has been until now?

“I… I didn’t know that. I’ll be careful,” you assure her.

All it took was a squinty-eyed smile and a tiny caress to the small of your back on the way into the lecture hall for you to completely melt into his hands. You were simply putty, magically molding into some gross, odd-smelling ball of love just because of the almost-incident yesterday. You can practically feel the radiating disappointment from Sara if she knew how easily you gave yourself up for him.

His face reoccurs in your daydreams for days, all the way up until the weekend comes up from behind and smacks you on the ass.

“Focus,” Jungkook taps you through you skirt again. Oh, or maybe it was Jungkook.

The stadium speakers blared with announcements and you’re brought back to the world of clashing helmets, captain’s orders and Jungkook’s strong hands residing on your waist for partner stunts.

You didn’t need to be reminded, you were much more stable than you were weeks ago. He throws you in the air during the signaling note of the band and catches your right foot with ease above him, keeping you stable as you pull a heel stretch and present a pretty smile. The crowd roars along, inspiring the team and singing along with the cheers.

By the end of the game, you’re exhausted, tearing down paper signs from the concrete walls and shuffling your poms into your bag in a hurry.

“Hey, are you going to the feed after? Everyone’s going, I could give you a ride,” Jungkook offers, but you shake your head.

“I’m pretty beat. I’ll go next time.” He shrugs, finding more interest in catching up to someone who is interested than trying to convince you otherwise. By the time your clean-up is done, most of the fans are gone, the stadium a comparable difference of quiet than how it was only twenty minutes ago.

“You’re sure taking forever,” a sudden voice pipes up. Outside the gate stands Jimin, all-black tank and jeans, per usual. “You looked great out there.”

You smile, suddenly awake and jogging towards him, “What’re you doing here? I thought you didn’t like football.” During all your rushing do you realize that you relax around Park, time always seeming to slow down in his presence and you dissolve into his effect.

“I don’t. Such an American moneymaker. They’re all cons.” He takes your bag like he always does, leaning against the gate and looking excited, “Mind if we stop by my place? I have something to show you. It’s not far, probably only a 5 minute walk from here.”

You nod before he even mentions how long it takes to get there, heart palpitating at the thought that he’s inviting you over. You’re sure you smelled from cheer and you probably looked like the opposing team warmed up suicide runs over your sweaty body, but you nod.

“Were you here the whole time? Or just towards the end?” you ask, slightly insecure towards the fact that he could’ve been watching you cheer.

“Was here since halftime. Got Yoongs to watch with me at the gate where I was before for the most part. He left halfway through fourth quarter though, said he got tired from seeing others exert themselves so much,” he chuckles at the thought, eyes squinting and crooked tooth visible from the side. Your heart swooned, you were even starting to notice the little things. How he acted. His habits. What he did and didn’t like.

You were in fucking deep.

“I did get to see you cheer though,” he answers your unspoken inquiry, “you looked pretty, Y/N. It’s like watching a whole ‘nother person compared to how you act outside of uniform.” You’re still stuck on the word “pretty” and nod along like you’re listening.

“You should see how people look at you,” he draws on, “like they’re entranced. Even when you were just relaxing on the sideline, not doing anything, you stand out.”

“Oh my god, Jimin, where is this even coming from? One more compliment and the world might explode from the paradox you’re creating.”

He shoves your shoulder lightly, laughing at your tomato-red face, “What do you mean? I can’t compliment you?”

“No that’s not—I just mean. You know. You used to hate me and now you shower me with praise like I’m the best person in the world. It’s just crazy how much our relationship has changed. And… And yesterday—”

“Yo, can’t believe you really stayed for the rest of the game,” a raspy voice outbursts. You just realize that Jimin stopped you in front of a house, presumably his house, as a mint-haired ball sits on the porch. He inhales from his cigarette and exhales through his nose before throwing it underneath his boot.

“Hey, Yoongs. This is Y/N. Y/N, Min Yoongi, my roommate. Has a bad smoking habit and have only recently gotten him to smoke outside.” Jimin snickers, offering a hand to lift Yoongi off the step and welcome him into some bro-hug.

“You smoke too, bastard. Just did it ‘cause I knew you were bringing someone home tonight,” Yoongi retaliates, eyeing your figure. Shivers run down your spine at the comment.

Jimin coughs unexpectedly, then anxiously laughs as he pulls your arm behind him and into the house, “We’ll be in the living room. Go sleep or something.” Yoongi only clicks his tongue in response.

“Sorry,” he says once your inside, “he can be a little too personal sometimes. He’s really nice once you get to know him.” You shake your head, giving him a comforting smile that eases the tension in his shoulders.

He settles you on the couch, host-like politeness apparent when he asks if you want anything to drink, tells you where the bathroom is, and hands you the tv remote before disappearing to find his laptop. His home was cozy, minimalist furniture often in gray, black, and an occasional blue spread throughout the rooms. You weren’t sure if the boys were attempting to be modern or if college tuition only allowed them this sort of set-up, but nonetheless, it was way nicer than you expected.

“Back,” Jimin plops onto the couch right next to you, Apple laptop unlocked to a default background. He looks to you briefly before setting up some page on Google, “Have you signed up for your classes for next quarter yet?”

He looks different, your eyes scanning over his face to figure out just what it is, “Basically, just gotta confirm and pay and whatnot. Have you, Jimin?”

It’s his septum, you discover, that he’s taken out. He looks handsome either way. Propping the laptop suddenly on your lap, he beams, “Yeah, go ahead and take a look.”

You scroll through the page, humming to yourself, “Mhm… Mhm… Accounting, business 101, contemporary repertory… God, you’re going to hate sociology with Doyard, she’s a complete psycho!” You trail, giggling at his misfortune. Once you’re done, you meet his discontent face.

It takes a few takes from his face to the screen, back to his face, until oh shit!

“Wait does ‘contemporary repertory’ mean something important?” you squeal in rushed excitement. “Is that a dance thing? Are you taking a dance class here?” Before he can even explain, you shut the laptop and safely place it on the coffee table before tackling the man, withdrawing an oof from his lips.

“Easy, girl. Please don’t break me before I even get to show up on the first day.”

“Jimin, this is amazing. You’re finally doing something you want to do, during regular hours, at that!” You nuzzle into his warm chest, “I’m so happy for you, Jimin. I hope you have fun.” His heart clenches at that; how could you be so fucking caring about him? He knew you’d be surprised, but not genuinely happy for him. His hand glides over the skin between your midriff and skirt, an inkling of a gasp floating out of your throat.

“Sorry,” he whispers, moving his hand higher and locking eyes with yours. Time is always slow with him but now, it’s like it was screaming at you to take the opportunity. Unwinding one of your arms from around his neck, you smooth his hair up so you can see those prepossessing eyes.

“You can touch me,” you confirm just as softly. His features harden and you hope you didn’t read the situation wrong.

“I… I never got to kiss you that night.”

“Then you can kiss me now, if you’d like,” you say, pleading in your voice and it’s all he needs to hear before he burns his lips into yours. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted this,” he pants between suckles to your bottom lip. He kisses like he dances: powerful and in perfect control with his body, molding it to yours and massaging the skin he just apologized for touching only seconds ago.

You cup his face and look down at him with sultry prowess, “I want you, Jimin. I’ve always thought about this, hoping you would just make a move, idiot.” You dive back into him, his moans prominent when you lick and nip at his lip. He lowers his grip to your ass, squeezing and pushing his hips into your own.

“Well, I’ve always thought about fucking you in this cursed uniform,” he growls, forcing a giggle out of you. Grinding down into him for effect, your mouth travels to his ear so you can state a small confirmation.

“I’m flexible, babe. I’m all yours.”

He hums his praise, latching his mouth onto your neck, laving and peppering blues into your skin before he carries you off the couch. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, “Where are you taking me?”

Heading into a hallway and taking a sharp left, he kicks his door open, “I don’t know about you, hot stuff, but Yoongs doesn’t need to see you getting dicked down in our living room,” he jests. When he lays you back onto the foot of his bed, you briefly scan his room and find it hard to believe that it’s relatively clean, the posters on his walls the only thing that seemed cluttered. This guy was your high school self’s wet dream. Scanning him promiscuously, you chuckle.

“I can be into it,” you drawl playfully.

Earning an unimpressed scoff, he fingers the hem of his shirt, “You’re mine,” he sheds it in a swift pull and throws it to the side cockily. Marveling at each detailed divot and curve of muscle, you can’t help but bite your lip in frustrated anticipation. “Unless, you don’t want me,” he finishes with a tilt of his head. He knew what he was doing, simulating innocence to draw you out of your transfixed stupor to hear those three words string from your mouth. You reach out to touch his abs, tracing over linework of ink and watching him shiver from your touch. Knowing exactly what he wants to hear, you gaze into oblique eyes and mouth the words, “I do want you”.

Goading him on, you lay back and extend your legs above you, shuffling your spandex tantalizingly slow over your skin. Jimin whistles at your show, staring at the white g-string you sported under your skirt and wandering his hands over the supple skin you expose.

“Jesus, you fucking tease. Leave the skirt.” Tittering at his request, you dig your heels into his back to propel him down towards you, his ringed hands keeping himself afloat and a winning smile winking down at you. Bless your heart you didn’t faint right then and there.

He kisses you like a man starved, lips burning hot with desire and aching to be bit—so you give him that. Sinking your teeth gently into the flesh, he punishes such action with a slap to the underneath of your thigh, then holding it close to the side of his abdomen and rolling over with you on top. Practically suffocating from lack of air, you dislodge yourself, quite reluctantly, from his mouth and soothe his complaints with brief kisses to his thick neck.

“Why didn’t we do this—ah, before?” he pants. Sucking a particularly tender spot of his jugular, he moans out and bucks into your hips. You continue your way down, leaving no inch of skin untouched until you reach where his skin ends and the nuisance of clothing began.

“You don’t make things very easy for me. Can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, don’t ask. Just do it. Turn around, though, I’ll finger you at the same time,” he offers, propping himself up on his elbows as you readjust yourself with your head towards his bulge and your ass facing him, knees keeping you up on one side of his torso. “Perfect,” he commends.

Unbuckling his ridiculously tight jeans, you hook your thumbs under the denim and whisper a quick, “Up,” to pull them off when his hips lift off the mattress. Your pride inflates at the sight of his bulge resting in the crook of his thigh, adorned by simple black boxers that hugged him in all the right spots. All but drooling at the member, you place a loving kiss where you know his head resides, mouthing at it gingerly and soaking the material with your saliva.

He ruts into your face as he watches such indecency, “You know, I should probably tell you something,” he says rather seriously, shuffling your skirt up above your ass and mischievously prodding at your sex with his thumb.

“Hmm,” you mumble, sliding his boxers down enough to suck at the pink tip that oozed of precum and spreading the liquid around with your tongue. The bitterness that came with it was all welcomed, slightly sweeter than others you’ve ever tasted and you appreciated it much more when a man this good-looking was laid out before you.

He groans, “Ever heard of a Jacob’s Ladder? Fuck, right there, underneath a bit…” You suck and nip at the skin of his frenulum, knowing he was bound to like small dosages of pain mixed with his pleasure—a guess all too correct when he cries out in ecstasy and gives your ass a light spank.

“A Jacob’s what?”

“Just—just look at it. If you don’t like it then I can just take them out,” he sighs, all too impatient to give you a rundown of whatever a Jacob’s hoo-ha entailed. You perk a brow at his vocabulary, halting your mouth and sliding his boxers the rest of the way down.

If you weren’t riled up before, you were hot, ready, and willing to beg on your knees to be stuffed with Jimin and his… accessories. You understand the term “ladder” now, three rungs of metal pierced on the underside of his shaft and glinting up at you with intimidation. You hope Jimin can’t see the now overflowing amount of arousal oozing out of your pussy, squeezing thighs together in a useless attempt of hiding yourself.

“Fuck, didn’t that hurt?” you question, hovering fingers over the balls of silver that protruded on each side in complete awe.

“Of course it did, honey. It’s all worth it, though. It’ll make you feel good too. Need me to take them out?” You shake your head a little too vigorously, earning a chuckle and his middle finger to slide in between your folds unexpectedly. Yiping at the sudden entrance, you cast a glare over his shoulder with his only response being the curve of his digit.

“C-Can I lick it? Can it get infected if you don’t use a condom?” you bombard him with questions, entirely unfamiliar with the subject and entirely enamored by it.

“It’s all healed up, baby. You can do whatever your little heart desires with it. And I would oh so much prefer going bare,” he confirms, and your heart flips at his pet name for you. That, and the thought of his thick, pierced cock penetrating you condom-less.

You wrap your lips around him once more, unafraid to take more and more of his length until you feel the cold metal—your stopping point. Call it your lack of experience, but you prefer not to catch your teeth on those piercings today. You make up for it by sliding a hand back under his scrunched boxers, fondling his balls as you bob diligently. He curses and struggles to keep his body still, digging another digit between your legs to slow your own ministrations. When it works and you moan around his cock, Jimin can’t help but want to play a little game.

“Should I give you a challenge, babe? It’s super simple. Whoever makes the other cum first gets to request something. Anything. Deal?”

“Deahl,” you muffle, swirling your tongue lavishly around his crown. Everything with Jimin was much more… intriguing. Even your first time having sex was turned into some lusty escapade of unexpected metallic embellishments and cheeky gambles. It made you feel something in your veins, wanting more and more of whatever poison Jimin was.

Taking a breath, you lick broadly over his entire shaft and scarcely taste the titanium—more than anything, it was just cold. Jimin shudders at the feeling, punishing you with a third and final finger and pushing downdowndown into a spot all too sensitive for you to focus.

Try as you might, your now pathetic attempts of sucking him off is all forgotten in your own haze of chasing your orgasm. Instead, you rest your head on his hip and writhe against his hand, fucking back onto it while he simultaneously prods your g-spot over and over again until you see stars.

“Giving up already? You were doing so well for a while, you could’ve won,” he lilts.

“Jimin, please make me cum. Oh god,” you wail, legs straining for just that final push…

“Is this what you want?” He slides his thumb across, swiping whatever he could collect and using it to knead at your neglected clit. It’s all you need, pleasure washing over you in tandem of near oversensitivity, a near scream tearing through your lungs that only comes out in ragged whines against his leg.

“Beautiful, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re ruining my sheets over here,” he criticizes, removing his hand with an obscene squelch and moving around in the bed.

The torpor you caught yourself in didn’t render what he was saying, just letting him move you about so your head rests on his pillows while he places himself between your legs.

“Jiminie,” you babble, “fuck me.” He strokes your hair away from your face and smiles, that cute puppy smile that turns his eyes into crescents. The rest of him, though, is purely sinful. Hair sweaty and pieced to perfection as his body taunted you with toned muscles.

“I don’t think you’re ready, honey,” he answers, “even though you’re dripping in your own cum.” He leans back and stares at your pussy without embarrassment, pulling your knees together and watching the juices flow even more. “I should put it to use.”

You peer up at him, curious as to whatever the hell he’s dreaming of over there and inexplicably stunned when you see his dick between your legs. “J-Jimin, what are you doing?”

“Shh, just keep them closed tight,” he orders, fucking himself between the lips of your heat and the warm skin of your thighs. You can’t help but ravish the sight of him as he slicks himself up, eyeing you down as his hips roll into you agonizingly slow. His piercings graze against your nub occasionally, warmth once again growing in your stomach.

“Fuck, you’re so soft and so wet. Who did this to you, hm?” You moan maniacally, angling your hips as to catch him and push inside, but he only laughs degradingly and intentionally misses.

“You think I’m going to fuck you if you can’t even answer this simple question?” he sneers. “Answer like a good girl, then I’ll fuck you into oblivion.”

You scramble for words, initially incoherent and struggling. “Jimin! Shit, Jimin. You made me this way. Ah, you m-make me so wet, so please put it in, put it in and—ha, aah!”

He shoves his length in like it’s all he knew what to do, your ankles to his shoulders so he can drink up your moans with his reddened lips. He was right—the piercings didn’t feel like any dick you’ve received before, it was so much better. This was pornographic, it was so good. He all but pistols into you, his cock grazing places previously untouched. Indulging in his heaven sent strokes, you cry and groan at each relentless thrust.

“Hush, baby, Yoongi’s going to hear your pretty self,” he warns, but you don’t give a shit. If anything, you moan louder with a know-all glint in your eye, testing Jimin’s patience. “Brat,” he spits.

He pounds into you repeatedly, completely removing himself before filling you up again and again and again. Between the pressure to your g-spot and the added stimulation from his Jacob’s Ladder—your stomach heaves, an unfamiliar feeling washing over your abdomen contrary to anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh, Jimin, wait!” you sob, halting his hips from another brutal shove a little too late. The second he pulls out, your second orgasm (and first ever untouched orgasm) of the night reigns over, briefly showering his lower stomach in your own wet arousal.

“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot. Did you just… squirt on me?” he growls, not taking the time to hear your answer as he lifts you into his lap, legs wrapped around his muscular back and arms gripping around his shoulders for dear life.

He sinks back into you deliciously, filling you to the brim with your added weight and rutting up into you to chase his own release. Everything is soaked and sticky, Jimin’s ragged breathing and groans so close to your ear that you’re sure it’ll be engrained into your memory forever, his thrusts so deep inside you wail once more.

Consequently, the banging on the wall next to you comes as no surprise, Yoongi’s angry, “Shut the fuck up!” clear as day. Jimin waves it off.

“Don’t listen baby. Moan louder for me. Tell me where you want my cum.”

The slaps of skin become louder; it wouldn’t be long before Jimin came. “Inside, Jiminie, please. Cum inside me, pump me full,” you squeal, lust sparking inside you knowing that his roommate could hear you getting fucked senseless.

One, two, three more aching pounds before he spills into you, his pretty moans music to your ears. You flop back as soon as he takes himself out, suddenly aching all over from how much he stretched your legs and groaning at the pain.

You slap his eager hand away when he fingers his cum back into your abused lips, “That hurts, idiot.” He smiles and sucks your intermingled cum off his fingers with a pop.

“We taste good together,” he husks. Fuck. “By the way. You came first. Stay the night?”

You oblige with or without the pressure of the bet, dog-tired from your beating and not even fathoming the trek back to your own room. Jimin takes charge in your state of haziness, washing you off in his shower, replacing your uniform with a t-shirt of his own and laying you beside him on his mattress (sheets replaced and refreshed).

“You have piercings in your dick,” you state in the middle of the quiet.

Jimin snorts at the outburst, looping an arm around your side and melding his body to yours, “Yeah, is it weird?”

“… Robot dick,” you whisper, words cracking at the face of your laughter.

“Oh my god.”

“So, when you’re going through metal detectors at airports and whatever, do you have to tell them that the metal’s in your penis? Do they have to check?” Titters are awarded with light jabs to your side, which are then led to screams and kicks to his legs.

Yoongi bursts through Jimin’s door, brows stitched together in heated anger parallel to the flames of hell, “I swear to fucking god, if you two don’t quiet down I’ll mount your heads on my wall, it’ll make a great decoration.”

“What the hell, what if we were naked? Don’t just go busting through—”

“Yeah because you obviously care if I know you two are fucking. ‘Don’t listen, baby! Tell me where you want my cum, baby!’” Yoongi mocks. Pillows are flying and insults are thrown as you watch them bicker sleepily, all fading into white noise as you begin to drift off.

Sleep itself feels like a blink, so exhausted that you don’t dream. Waking in the same position that you were last conscious in, the only difference in picture is the fact that: A) the sun is shining through Jimin’s skylight and B) Jimin is no longer in bed with you.

But before you can even question where he’s run off to, his sly self sneaks back into the bedroom, shirtless and face clean from washing up just now. You don’t even hide the fact that you look down to check out his tight briefs, metal detector in your brain trying to scope it out.

“You’re awake. Sorry if I was loud,” he smiles, crawling on top of you as you stretch out like a mangled cat. You shake your head, combing his hair back with your nails as he dips down into your chest. “I like when you wear my shirts.”

“That’s pretty stereotypical,” you whisper out, voice low and raspy from your slumber. This isn’t fair, you think, he got to brush his teeth already.

He sits up and gives you A Look, making you giggle and giving you the leverage to feel up his abs as he flexes haughtily.

“I can get used to this,” you purr.

“I bet you could,” he mumbles into your neck, nipping at the places he already marked last night. He doesn’t push, just relishes in your warmth and fondles you carefully as you continue to wake up and it makes you shiver.

“I wish you would’ve done this a long time ago,” you sigh.

“You hated me.”

“You didn’t make it easy for me to like you,” you retort, gasping when he bites your collarbone, “Now—Now I like you.”

He stops abruptly and pulls away, landing on his side with an elbow and tilting his head towards you, “Well, I hope you don’t start liking me too much.”

You squint, “W-Why? Don’t tell me this was just a one night stand or anything.”

“No! I mean, not just one night or whatever. I just—this is just casual, right?”

You all but bite your tongue to keep from lashing out, “What do you mean ‘casual’? You didn’t say anything about ‘casual’.”

“Oh, Y/N, c’mon. Did you really think we should date? Look at us, baby. We’re just not… each other’s types, you know?”

It’s about time you get up, shoving aside his warm blankets and grabbing your soiled uniform from the floor, “No, Jimin. I don’t know. I thought you were being genuine with me.”

“Hey, no, don’t leave,” he grabs your arm before you leave his bedroom, “Okay, there was some miscommunication. I’m not trying to be mean. Can I just… I don’t know, think about it? I’m just not used to this.”

Looking into his eyes for some sort of confirmation, your tensions subside. “I’m not a toy. If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.” The hurt he feels in your tone breaks his heart, for once. Would he really be willing to try something he knows won’t work?

For you, maybe.

“I do like you, Y/N. Just give me some time.” He pulls your arm once more, hoping you’ll stay. But you draw the line and pry his hand off politely.

“Of course I’ll give you time. I’ll see you later, okay?” He nods understandingly. He can’t feel butthurt when he’s the one putting you on ice, he knows that. So Jimin watches you leave in his shirt, mind clouded more so than when you arrived.

a/n: yay! you made it through the first part! if you liked it, feel free to let me know or ask any questions to the characters! xx, selene

[withnive]

210730 니브(NIve)_namastehallyu Interview

EXCLUSIVE: Looking Through The ‘Broken Kaleidoscope’ of NIve

"It’s a pretty vulnerable expression of me – I almost feel naked letting 'Broken Kaleidoscope' go out to the world, but it’s very precious and personal to me." - NIve

Jisoo Park, also known as NIve, is a Korean-American singer-songwriter, and a renowned producer and composer.

NIve first appeared as Brian Park in the 2014 South Korean television talent show series, Superstar K 6 where he ended up in the Top 9. He was invited to attend the show as a contestant after his cover of John Legend’s All of Me went viral. NIve released his first single Getaway, featuring indie singer-songwriter JMSN, on November 9, 2018 and his official Korean debut song, Like a Fool, featuring Sam Kim, was released on April 2, 2020, which received great response in the domestic market.  He also featured Heize on his track, 2Easy where the fans got to listen to two wonderful singers with exceptional vocals in one song.

NIve introduces himself as a singer, a songwriter, and a producer. He recalls how he chose his stage name and shares, “One day, I was trying to figure out a word or even a sound that represented me, and a sound similar to “Nive” popped up in my head. I looked up a bunch of words that felt similar, but nothing else felt quite right. I discovered that NIve means “being cool without having to say cool,” and I really related to that meaning on a personal level because I don’t think “cool” always has to mean what we think it does. Cool is whatever you want it to be, and I think we’re all the coolest when we’re being ourselves.” NIve as an artist is a singer-songwriter but he also goes by the name Jisoo Park of 153/Joombas when he produces or composes songs. With two different alias, we were curious if there were any differences when it comes to how he work or musicality, NIve shares that at the end of the day, they’re both him but the difference is the approach.

I write my own story as an artist, but I help to write another artist’s story as a songwriter. That completely changes the mindset and the style of music I write for myself versus for another artist. – NIve

As a producer, NIve has worked with many popular K-POP artists like EXO’s Chen, BTS, Jeong Se-Woon, Paul Kim, SF9, NCT U, and Super Junior. As a singer, Nlve is back with his debut EP, ‘Broken Kaleidoscope.’ Ahead of his debut album, NIve had earlier pre-released a single, ‘Escape.’

Befitting of the various hats that he wears, NIve wrote, composed, arranged, and produced the single, ‘Escape’, where he expresses his desire to escape and run away from an unrelenting reality. It is something which he hasn’t done before and hence, it did surprise his fans in a positive way. The pre-release single brings an element of hybrid pop rock song and we get to hear the driving guitars and bass lines which is accompanied by percussive elements and his vocals that bring a sense of uniqueness as well as a fun element to the song.

With ‘Escape’, NIve challenged himself in a way that it was nothing like the tracks that he had put out till date. The talented artist explains how ‘Escape’ was born as he shares,  “I was going through a rough time and felt pretty hopeless for a little bit. Then one day I finally sat down and figured that the only way for me to get over this was to write music that expressed these thoughts in the most honest way possible. ‘Escape’ was one of the songs that expressed my feelings of restlessness and wanting to run away from overwhelming emotions. I didn’t exactly think “I’m going to write a pop-rock” style song, but as I kept writing the song, it just felt right”.

If ‘Escape’ surprised his fans, Nlve is now back with his debut EP ‘Broken Kaleidoscope’ which brings out more versatility.  The album may have released few days back but fans are already familiar with some form of ‘Broken Kaleidoscope’ after all, the artist has shown his fans a peek of his life through his Instagram stories where he has penned down many things to “himself” and it has not only been an escape for him but has also been a source of comfort and strength to his fans. Perhaps that’s why it is not a surprise that his album has been named the way it is, Nlve however adds on,  “The EP consists of five songs and each song takes on a different color, sound, and emotion, which is why I named the album “Broken Kaleidoscope”! It’s a pretty vulnerable expression of me – I almost feel naked letting this album go out to the world, but it’s very precious and personal to me.”

With ‘I’m Alive’, NIve sings, “Through the gray sky, even if the thorns fall, I’m gonna keep myself alive.” This maybe a new genre for him but the sound, the music, the symbolism, the visuals, the analogies in the MV has proved why this is one of his best works and what he meant, when he said that he felt vulnerable putting it out to the world.

NIve had shared in the past that his famous track ‘Who I am’, which is also the first song that he produced, is the projection of his life lessons and struggles.  When talking about it, he added that to be where he is right now, he had to overcome all the self-doubt that had built-up over time, “All the things that made me question who I was as a person – those were the things I had to erase before I could move forward.”

As a Producer, NIve has been credited for co-producing, co-writing, and co-composing for the biggest names in the industry and have come up with tracks which has done well not only domestically but also internationally. He had also participated in the song ‘Blue and Grey’ sung by BTS, EXO Chen’s ‘Beautiful Goodbye’ and also composed ‘My Everything’ sung by NCT U for their album, NCT RESONANCE Pt. 2 – The 2nd Album. Although NIve loves all the songs that he has written with and for other artists, he shares that ‘Beautiful Goodbye’ by EXO’s Chen is one of the songs that he holds very close to his heart and among all the songs that he has released as part of his own discography, the artist says that if he had to recommend one song to someone who is just getting to know him, he would recommend ‘Tired’ as the first song!

NIve has achieved a lot in his journey but when he looks back at where he began, Nlve shares that although he vaguely remembers it, the first song that he ever produced was probably over 14 years ago. He however confesses that he can’t remember what exactly it sounded like, but the one thing he remembers is that he was inspired by an Australian singer named Delta Goodrem at that time.

Apart from creating music for different Korean artists and for himself, NIve has also recently produced a ballad OST, for the webtoon, ‘The Girl Downstairs’. Speaking about the collaboration, Nlve shares that, the other team reached out for a ballad, and they fortunately picked the one he wrote! He also adds that he haven’t really gotten into any web toons outside of the ones that he has written songs for but he would love to recommend a webtoon when he finds one that he really loves and hence, to look out for it.

If numbers are what decides popularity, NIve also has numbers to prove why he is one of the most celebrated artists. After all, when Spotify released their #2020artistwrapped  last year, his songs were streamed in 92 countries and one of the top countries was India. NIve shares his reaction on it as he says, “It was honestly a huge surprise for me. I’m so glad my music was able to resonate with so many people in India. It’s a dream come true for me to receive so much love from people who come from such different places and backgrounds around the world.”

After we heard Nlves thoughts, as cliché as it might sound, we were curious to know if he had watched any Indian Movie or if there is an Indian singer whose work he admires. Nlve stated, “Although I am not too familiar with any Indian movies yet, but I’d love to get recommendations! I love watching films. I actually got to interact with Armaan Malik before. He had covered “Beautiful Goodbye” and posted it on his Instagram one day and my fans who know that I wrote the song ended up tagging me in it. I watched the video and he sang it so well, so I sent him a DM right away.” (After we heard this, we immediately began to channel a future collaboration between the two artist.)

Nlve further shared that the song he is currently listening is, To Let a Good Thing Die by Bruno Major and sent a message to his Indian fans and international fans and ended it with a promise.

“Thank you so much to everyone who has shown me love in India and everywhere else in the world! I’m so grateful for you all. You all motivate me to keep going and stay creative. I promise to always do my best to bring my best art to you. I can’t wait to meet you all in person soon.”

For Nlve, his ideal day is a Saturday and like many of us, the first thing he grabs when he leaves the house is his phone. He seems like any normal person but unlike some of us, NIve is happy with where he is and what he has done, and has no room to wish for things, as he shares that the song that he wishes he produced or sang is his next single.  Although, he shares that the first song that he ever wrote will stay in his archive forever, he has shown some parts of his world through his music and recently, with ‘Broken Kaleidoscope’.

Nlve is not just a singer-songwriter/producer/composer, he is an artist in the truest sense. When we asked him to describe himself in one word, he replied, “Sentimental.” Perhaps that is one of the reason why we get to see his bare expressions and writings and this is why listeners can connect with his song. For Nlve, Music is Life and for his fans, his music definitely helps them get by it.

When we asked NIve what is the first thing that comes to his mind when he hears the word, ‘India’, he replied, “Vast and colorful” and that’s how we see his music as well – ‘Vast with different colors and elements – with a song for every mood.’

[nataliesnews]

Balfour and Irit Teperson 20.3.2021

Saturday night  before the elections we walked as always to Balfour. It is said that this is the largest demonstration ever besides those that are done by the Hariediem who in their case come out on order of the rabbi. We come out for a better Israel.

 After a while I realised I had a young man on one side and a tall very elegant lady on the other walking with me...and making a path for me. They had asked if I needed help and I said no as I really do not want to bother people but on this occasion I was really grateful for it that they ignored this and did so .

 Although I had walked on various occasions on my own,  but this time the crowd was enormous. Although in the last weeks I always seemed to have someone at my side making a path for me. But this was 10,000s of people and I was a bit nervous. So many that some of my friends from out of town who tried to reach me and have walked with me in the past  said they could not make their way through to me. The media of course tried to play it down ….but I think that there were well over 20,000 people there. One paper said 50,000. Once I got to a Kikar Paris  where I could sit down I did not move as it was so congested.

 Unfortunately I do not know the name of the man who was on the one side of me was as  I would have liked to thank him. But later when we were sitting the lady sat down next to me and it turned out that her father had been from Cape Town and come in the very early years of the state to Israel. I asked the family name not thinking I would know it as I did not know many people in Cape Town and she said Idit Teperson. I was upon mouthed!! For my friends in the Strand how many of you remember Sidney Teperson who had worked together with Henry Baigel, our doctors. I especially remembered Sydney because the day my mother died, it was he who came to the house as soon as I phoned the surgery. If I got it right...with all the noise there it was difficult to hear I think her father was a cousin. From 1939 to 2021 out paths met. And so many of my friends from the Strand wrote and said how wonderful both doctors  were. Those were the days when a family doctor was truly your friend. How lucky we were then. Today it so impersonal and so many specialists for everything. I remember when I was a child and  at night I had a tooth which needed to be taken out. Henry Baigel simply took me down to the dentist’s surgery and pulled it out. Does anyone remember the name of the dentist. I think it was one of the Walls but am not sure.

 Anyhow Idit  told me she is an actress and at the  moment is making  a film and my friends told me she is well known…..but she still had the time to notice an elderly lady having a bit of difficulty. By the way my Hebrew name was given to me at birth in  honour of our grandfather, Nathan. The English for school and the little town. I think that about four of us were names after him. Nathan. Norma Norman and I …anyone else? Although as she says I have no children but I do have friends and good friends they are. But now as I get older I really miss our family.

.

Now we have to wait and see if there is life after Balfour. We wait to see if Israel will return from the dangerous path this government of the last years has sent u on. But Netanyahu do not get too comfortable. If this country is stupid enough to bring you in again we will still be around and will walk wherever we have to…in Jerusalem, Um el Fachum, Sheikh Jarach.  What really made us angry was that when we came back…. I had met two people from Nofim,  a friend  who met us and who was going to give us a lift and had parked in an open area where there was no sign that it was illegal to park.  We found that all the cars around us had notices on them to inform them so kindly from the vicious police department that they were being summoned for illegal parking. She has the name of someone to contact. My heart sinks when I think of the days to come.

  This is a statue which was put up in Tel Aviv and created a real furor. Last  night they put is up again and people chained themselves to it so that the police should not be able to take it away again. I believe that there was much violence today when the police once again took it away and one man was arrested. Amazing how even a statue can send this criminal government into hysterics.

 I came home with such a warm feeling after the meeting. I wonder what our families in Lithuania would have thought of such a meeting so many years apart.

  This is what Idit Teperson wrote on facebook …..she flatters me but  down below is what I wrote in the evening

Last night, in the most powerful demonstration that was here, I had an experience that I will cherish.

When we went for a walk from the Knesset, which was crowded and crowded with people, I noticed Netanya trying to make her  way in this large crowd. Those who do not know, 82-year-old Netanya, has become one of the symbols of this wonderful protest. She is tiny and walks with two walking sticks. She did not miss a single march from the String Bridge and showed up at all the demonstrations there. Usually the marches are a bit more spacious and she finds her way. This time it was difficult for her to make her way through and she occasionally encountered the large crowd that surrounded her. I went and asked if she needed help.  A young man was standing next to her,  looked at me and we both made signs to each other that we would watch over her and walk on either side of her. Occasionally we asked if she wanted water or a little rest, she refused. We made her way through the large crowd. For a moment she looked up and smiled at us. When we got to Balfour she asked to sit down. We sat her down and I stayed to sit next to her. She asked me to take the water bottle out of her bag and then uttered a sentence in English. I immediately recognized the South African accent. I told her that my father also came from Cape Town. She opened her  eyes and we found out that she knew part of my family. She told about me herself. It turns out that she is childless. She has no family here in Israel  only friends. A Jerusalemite, lives not far from the "monster" as she puts it. Her real name is Natalie, she changed to Netanya.   She  Then she asked to be photographed with me.

Then she asked us to change phone numbers so we could talk from time to time.

I asked if she wanted me to take her home, she said there was a friend coming to pick her up. We said goodbye in a warm hug.

When I got home and looked at the pictures, I decided I would do with her what I was doing with the only aunt I had left. I will call on Saturday evenings and holiday eves to greet her and give her a feeling that she is not alone. In the morning, I received an offer from her to be friends on facebook. 🙂

   Balfour and Irit Teperson 20.3.2021

[retrauxpunk]

tagged by @sardoniyx THANK U HUN XX 

when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?: I categorically Do Not have cereal. ...but it’s pretty much been milk in the past because i like the cereal much more than the milk.

do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?: i mean i think i did sometimes when cold weather was a novelty rather than the five-year-long winter that this current winter in london feels like 

how do you take your coffee/tea?: coffee with a shitload of sugar and milk and sometimes flavourings ... tea with milk and one sugar.

do you keep plants?: nah

what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?: writing (poetic prose/poetry if it’s a particular brand of romantic/romance-adjacent feeling) ... sometimes drawing

do you like singing/humming to yourself?: yeeeees

what’s something that made you smile today?: oh man. i haven’t had a good day. but something that made me INTERNALLY SMILE was this excellent message @cheapskate-bleeding-queer sent me :)

what’s your favorite pasta dish?: spaghetti/penne with GARLIC and CHEESE and sometimes CHILLI and (usually but not a necessity) a meat like chicken or cured meats, in a cream/egg sauce UGHHH GOD. also bolognese is pretty Rad. with heaps of herbs/spices. unghhhhhh

what’s your favorite eye color?: i don’t know if i have one? my first fave as a kid was green. i used to not think very highly of dark brown eyes (which i have) bc it’s basically never lauded in popular media etc but then i got crushes on a series of guys with dark eyes and now i see they’re PRETTY RAD TOO

what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?: peppermint/spearmint

what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks: SOCKS ARE FUN AND NICE AND WARM. I LIKE SOCKS WITH FUNKY/CUTE DESIGNS. wearing mismatched socks is FUN. socks that fit poorly are deeply bad. i don’t sleep with socks. i used to when i was a kid.

what’s your fave pastry?: anything with cheese and bacon. at work they have these cheese and bacon turnovers which are kind of puff pastry and they are the most fucking delicious thing ever every time i eat one i’m like jesus fucking christ how can something taset this good oh man

tell us about your pet peeves!: when people put their bags on seats on public transport and DON’T MOVE THEM when others approach to sit! when people sit on the outer seat of a two-seater on a bus/train and DON’T MOVE IN OR GET UP WHEN SOMEONE WANTS TO SIT! When someone is playing music through SPEAKERS in a PUBLIC PLACE and they are not some kind of busker/paid musician and especially if it’s shit music! people who roar down busy/populated/suburban/urban areas in EXTREMELY LOUD CARS AND MOTORCYCLES WHY? is this necessary? if it isn’t -- DO YOU FEEL REALLY SECURE ABOUT YOUR EGO? IS YOUR JUNK MONUMENTOUS? IS YOUR DICK SO BIG YOU CAN SWING IT ROUND LIKE A FIRE HOSE? also, fuckwits who open conversations with me by asking “excuse me, what part of china are you from”. if anyone presumes my ethnicity again (i don’t care if they’re correct) i’m going to make up some bullshit like “i am white, with a rare strain of jaundice” or just speak german to them and pretend i don’t know english at all.

think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you?: a gold/enamel pendant that’s a disc with a hole in the middle that looks like a segmented colour wheel. i bought it in the Exploratorium gift shop in San Francisco, I was not having a great time and bought it to cheer myself up a bit? and i turned it into a symbol of overcoming unpleasant thought spirals or something like that, in my head.

do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!: i like the tom n toms chain in sydney. i go to the one in central or the one in town hall and i’ve been there so many times with so many people and have basically always had a great time, drinking the peppermint hot chocolate. many hours of bitching/moaning about my love life has been spent there. it’s been great. i was even there with an ex once but the place CANNOT BE RUINED because i’ve also been there with like all of my best friends. and it’s always a stellar experience. yum. also, brainwave cafe which was right near the design building at my uni. a cute aesthetic, nice food, and i love the proximity to my alma mater, and i had nice experiences at uni overall, therefore GOOD ASSOCIATIONS, etc.

do you trust your instincts a lot?: i did, but lately they seem to have gone on a leave of absence so ........... like ........... yeah i dunno.

what food do you think should be banned from the universe?: anything that necessitates inhumane/cruel slaughter or treatment of animals e.g. foie gras, lobster that had to be boiled alive, whales killed by being dragged through the sea by harpoons, those sadistic dishes from asia (don’t google if you don’t want to learn about actually graphic/disturbing mistreatment of animals)

do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?: records yes because i have a record player and kind of want to be a Vinyl Person because aesthetic and i hate having money apparently HAHAH. the last one i bought was Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life by The Wombats -- I preordered it -- there were a series of fiascos about the delivery but I think I’ll have it in my hands by the end of the week FINALLY 

think of a person. what song do you associate with them?: literally anything by the killers (you know who you are). Waiting For The End by Linkin Park reminds me of my first bf (though not in a bad way). 

do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?: yes, but i have very specific taste. i like Kelsey Rakes and a bunch of others whom I found on deviantART back when that was my life. 

what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever received?: a couple times i was regifted the gifts that i got those people in the first place HAHAH not a hug deal though

what’s winter like where you live?: currently london. from the perspective of a sydneysider, it is ....... ......... GREY. you wake up and if you have a commitment like work, you just push through. if you don’t and you’re in the house, you open the curtains and see how the light level inside basically doesn’t change and you think WHAT IS THE POINT OF BEING ALIVE. also in the middle of winter the sun literally sets BEFORE FOUR P.M. WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK. the cold isn’t too bad, but the lack of sunlight is depressing. on the other hand, mulled wine is nice.

what are your favorite board games?: INNOVATION, HANDS DOWN. i also really like Monikers.

is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?: i don’t think so ... sleeping, maybe?

are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?: in isolation they’re pretty cute and in movie context they’re funny but oversaturation/inappropriate usage makes them a little tiresome. also i read a tweet of minion smut and it was hilarious and i loved it.

are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?: i have one tattoo which is one half of a super dumb in joke/relationship meme that i came up with .......... so i want to get the second half at some point. it’ll be a couple inches square, on my right leg. i also want to get a big one on my upper arm of some kind of bird, in a bit of an industrial style.

are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?: i rather enjoy dadaism as a concept ... man there’s one i think is on the tip of my brain but i... can’t think of it ...? i like luminism. i like warhol and lichtenstein’s pop art. roccoco is fun. 

talk about your one of you favorite cities: y’know, i do like london. i love the shit-ton of theatres, the fact that musicians/performers ACTUALLY COME HERE, the WONDERFUL ABUNDANCE OF LIVE COMEDY, the fact i can go see studio recordings of TV shows, the PROXIMITY TO THE REST OF EUROPE OMG, the general aesthetic/vibe, the pleasant accents, the general feeling of safety/cleanliness. also you know what? SYDNEY. SYDNEY FUCKING ROCKS. the weather is beautiful, every fucking sydneysider who complains about sydney weather honestly doesn’t know shit. the harbour/seaside is GORGEOUS. there is a GREAT foodie/hipster cafe scene. it’s relatively clean and safe. it’s wonderfully multicultural. it’s lively but not too busy/crowded. (oh man the weather!!) ....yeah both are also crazy fucking expensive and i seem to hate living in affordable places haha kill me

where do you plan on traveling this year?: i don’t want to go anywhere. i know my family wants me to go to china but considering how my last trip went, i am Not Really Keen? but i probably should, to see the rellies

myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?: either INFP or INFJ i think? depending on the test, aries, ravenclaw/gryffindor

oh yeah tagging: @cheapskate-bleeding-queer @dandelionwyne @soapbubblepopper @whyteraven91 @watching-the-fire-dance @monkiponken @themythicalgarden + anyone who wants to do this ^_^

[newagesispage]

                                                                        OCTOBER 2017

 *****The beautiful dino, Sue will be moved to her own gallery in Chicago’s field museum. New to her long fixed spot will be a cast of patagotitan mayorum, the biggest dinosaur ever found.

*****Richard Thomas is selling his NY midtown coop for $2,995,000 and is located at 7th Ave. and w. 58th.

*****California is waiting for Jerry Brown to sign a bill that bans puppy mills.

*****WWF has released wild tigers back into Kazakhstan. Scimitar horned oryx were released into the Sahara desert and indigo snakes were reintroduced into Florida.

*****Toys “R” Us has filed for bankruptcy.

*****Tom Price, health and human services secretary, has resigned after hic charter flight scandal.

*****After 50 years Rolling Stone may be up for sale.

*****Doc Martin is back on Acorn for series 8.

*****As social media has been telling us, we don’t need a border wall. Tourism is down about $37 billion. Thanks Trump!

*****Trump supporters don’t seem to like him fraternizing with the Dems and waffling on DACA. They have been burning their red hats but scary clown already got the money for selling them so what does he care. Anne Coulter wonders if there is anybody left who does not want Trump impeached.** Some states are suing over DACA.

*****”Holes separate men and women.”- Billy Connolly

*****The dreamer program has been signed away. The Deferred Action for Children’s Arrival has been handed to congress for 6 months to deal with. The administration says it violates the rule of law.

*****The Peoria Blues and Heritage fest went off without a hitch. The weather was perfect and we should all be looking at the Jamiah Rogers band, these guys are fucking awesome. John Butler checked them out before his own set and was great with his fans.

*****Bill Withers has his first solo record since 1985 with a cover of (You’ve been quite a doll) Raggedy Ann.

*****In this country, a woman dies every 2 hours of cervical cancer because of improper health care.

*****Can I just say that I do not want to see reporters in the middle of hurricanes. Can they just stay safe in a room and fix a camera outside? I would much rather see different angles of the storm and see no people out there.  It was often impossible to hear then anyway.  The communication between the studio and location was fucked up and did not help anyway. It also seemed like they showed an awful lot of Shell stations. JS

*****An estimated 70 million Americans saw the fake Russian ads during the campaign.  No impact??

*****The Stones are on their No Filter tour in Europe and they brought out ‘Dancin with Mr. D’ which hasn’t been played live since 1973.

*****Trumps lawyers seem to want Jared out.

*****Steve Bannon’s Great Great Grandfather was an immigrant from Ireland who needed no papers to get in this country.

*****Montgomery , Alabama is going to open a Museum of lynching.  There is a wall lined with jars of dirt that were collected from sites of lynching’s from around the country.  Very powerful.

*****Thanks Trump administration for removing references to ‘LGBTQ’ youth from a federal program for victims of sex trafficking. It also eliminates funding to international groups that provide abortions. This comes from mostly evangelical lobbyists who are reporting that they are having more discussions  with this administration than they ever had with any President.

*****Vanity Fair has their best dressed list out which includes Harry Styles, Rihanna, Solange, Jack Schlossberg, Justin Trudeau, Janelle Monae, Dev Patel, Cate Blanchett, Zoe Kravitz, Ruth Negga, and Donald Glover. The hall of fame mentioned Lauren Hutton, Jeremy irons and Prince Phillip.

*****More police brutality against the black man with the subduing of the Seahawks Michael Bennett for no apparent reason.

*****Leslie Van Houten has again been granted parole. As last year she is waiting out the 120 days to get the word from Gov. Jerry Brown.

*****Lovin’ Greg Garcia’s The Guest book on TBS. What is not to love about seeing Charles Robinson and Carly Jibson again.  It made my day to see guest Orson Bean!!

*****The U.S. office of government ethics has changed a policy that will now allow lobbyists to donate to staffers legal defense funds.

*****Cameras have taken the first pictures of white giraffes in Kenya.

*****The Simpsons will be going to New Orleans this season!

*****The Middle is starting its last season. We will miss U!

*****Jay Pharoah has a new show on Showtime. White Famous is loosely based on the life of Jamie Foxx who is the executive producer.

*****John Davis Washington, son of Denzel may head the cast of Black Klansman. Spike Lee will direct and Jordan Peele will produce the true story of an African American who in 1978 infiltrated the KKK. Ron Stallworth used phones and his own writing to communicate with the organization. When he had to appear in person he sent a white officer in his place. They were able to sometimes sabotage cross burnings and other activities.

*****IT just had the biggest horror movie opening ever. The acting is quite nice for chapter 1 but the ending a bit long.

*****Netflix is bringing a delicious doc : Jim and Andy  The great beyond featuring a very special contractually obligated mention of Tony Clifton. Spike Jonze is producing with the hundred  hours of footage from Man on the Moon. ** Other new docs on the way look at Eric Clapton, Grace Jones and Sammy Davis Jr. It is the first time that Kim Novak will talk on camera about dating Sammy.

*****September 16 brought the Juggalos march on Washington. They have been bringing awareness about their gang designation and the harm that it has caused. The running man with a hatchet is considered a gang symbol and gives cops probable cause to search. The FBI labeled Juggalos a hybrid gang in 2011. Also marching were some of the alt right calling their march the mother of all rallies but it only produced about 500 people.

*****Treasury secretary Steven Mnuchin requested use of a government jet for his honeymoon and he later withdrew that request.

*****Finally there was a confirmation from a charity that Trump claims to have given to after the Hurricanes. Direct relief received 25 thou. ** There have still been no charities that received money from the inauguration fund.

*****WGN is bringing us a new show called Bellevue.

*****Howard Buffett will be the new Sheriff of Macon county in Illinois. His father Warren had donated millions to the area.

*****Prophets of Rage are here to raise awareness with members of Cypress Hill, Rage against the Machine and Public Enemy.

*****LA summer Olympics in 2028?!

*****Sean Spicer landed on Jimmy Kimmel. Wow.. What a kiss ass whiny bitch. He tried hard to stay in Trumps good graces with compliments for the Pres and constant berating of the press. He reminded me of a ventriloquist dummy with a hand up his ass.** His cameo at the Emmy’s did not go over very well either.

***** Model Monroe Bergdorf was fired by L’oreal because of her anti- racist remarks.  She has now been hired by Illamasqua.

*****Boycott Dragon Dumps! Don’t pay your bill on time and the owner dumps garbage on your lawn.

*****It looks like Trevor Noah will stay with the Daily show until at least 2022.

*****James Woods used his twitter account to try and shame a movie about a gay romance between a 17 year old and a 24 year old. Amber Tamblyn tweeted that Woods had hit on her for real when she was only 16.

*****Scientists are trying to bring back the chelonoidis elephantopus Galopagos turtles. 80 blood samples of modern day island turtles have genetic traces of the lost species. Even though they have been extinct for 160 years, scientists think they can reproduce though not to 100%. Could they reverse the negative effects that humans cause in the environment?

***** Why do bullies feel the need to use the art of artists who want nothing to do with them? It is like using ‘You can’t always get what you want’ for Trump when there are plenty of artists who agree with you that would love for you to use their art. Now Universal music and American recordings had to send a cease and desist letter to the white supremacist site Stormfront to stop using Johnny Cash’s version of ‘I won’t back down.’ The host blames the Jews.

*****Tru tv will bring us At home with Amy Sedaris.

*****North Dakota paleontologists have been uncovering so many bones that they are inviting the public to help.  It sounds like a dream come true.

*****Paul Newman is Jake Gyllenhaal’s Godfather. JS

*****St. Louis exploded into protest with yet another acquittal of a police officer after the shooting of a black man, Anthony Lamar Smith. Peoria, Il is also dealing with the shooting of an alleged bank robber who was shot 18 times.

*****The NFL is standing together in solidarity for equality and scary clown is sniping at them like a bitch. Our leader would not know respect and maturity if it bit him in the ass.** The Packers asked their fans to stand arm in arm with them on their Thursday night game with the Bears. Respect to Aaron Rodgers and the guys for speaking out before the game on equality. Some ‘fans’ are burning their Packer stuff. ..  Why do these Trump supporters always want to burn everything? Do they have any idea how racist and ridiculous that looks?

*****Veep is going to bring us their last season while Julia is battling breast cancer. Joe Biden tweeted that us Veeps must stick together to show his support.

*****The Emmy’s with Stephen Colbert have come and gone. My best dressed were Ellie Kemper, Jessica Biel, Michelle Pfeiffer, Susan Sarandon, Leslie Jones, Matthew Rhys, Claire Foy, Evan Rachel Wood ,Gabrielle Union, Donald Glover, Emmy Rossum, Zoe Kravitz, Nicole Kidman and Julia- Louis Dreyfus. My worst dressed were Uzo Aduba, Debra Messing, Anna Farris, Tracee Ellis Ross and Prianka Chopra. I love Sarah Paulson and the back of her dress was great but ��?? There was so much black fabric which was awesome. Was it mourning for the earthquake and hurricane victims or just a general sadness for the country?  Whatever the reason.. hooray black!!**Also happy that hairstyles were mostly long and loose.** I was happy to see Laura Dern win for supporting actress in a limited series or movie. ** The Handmaids tale won for show, directing and writing , for Anne Dowd who looked more shocked and appreciative than I have ever seen and Elisabeth Moss. ** I was happy for Alec Baldwin for best supporting actor but was really routing for Louie Anderson. ** When the noms came out, I could not imagine anything beating out FEUD but everything did. ** The girls from 9 to 5 stole the show with their mention of a sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot. ** Donald Glover won for directing and acting. **Alexander Skarsgard won which gave he and his brother quite a week. ** John Oliver won two and he again flew in his whole staff. ** Julia- Louis Dreyfus has now won the most Emmys for the same character in the same show. Veep got best comedy.**It was a wonderful moment when Carol Burnett and Norman Lear came out but DeNiro looked so disinterested.** Cicely Tyson has often been described as a bit of a diva and seemed a bit out of it on the broadcast but her counterpart saved the day.** So sad that Bob Odenkirk did not win but kudos to sterling K. Brown. They seemed to play him off too quickly while Nicole Kidman and big little lies had all the time in the world.

*****Bobby Moynihan stars in the new  ‘Me Myself and I’ on CBS.

*****Word is that the Trump campaign is asking supporters to contribute money to build the wall.

*****Can we pay a little more attention to Puerto Rico? Why is the Pres giving them grief? Things were tough enough before the devastation. Puerto Rico has no bankruptcy and running a business is so costly there. Companies there must buy American which we don’t have to do.  Forty percent of residents don’t have insurance. So many of the supplies sent to help are just sitting there in San Juan.

*****Angela Merkel has won a 4th term as German chancellor.

*****Singapore got their first female President, Halimah Yacob. She was the only candidate.

*****There was a settlement in a lawsuit against Club Cabaret. Dancers sued to be employees instead of individual contractors. The dancers won a million and cost of legal fees.

*****Art Garfunkel has a memoir/diary/ book of musings out called ‘What is it all but luminous.’

*****The personal account of Ted Cruz hit ‘like’ on a porn site on 9/11. He calls it a mistake by a staffer. A college roommate of Cruz said that he was not surprised.

*****After a tweet from the Pres about hitting Hil with a golf ball, Stephen King tweeted: Thinks hitting a woman with a golf ball and knocking her down is funny. Myself, I think it indicates a severely fucked up mind.

*****Brooklyn 99 is back and funnier than ever with the same great cast and opening.

*****Bill Maher and Jimmy Kimmel are rated number 1 of tv personalities based on Facebook, Instagram, twitter et al.

*****R.I.P Richard Anderson, Walter Becker, Don Williams, David Tang, Troy Gentry, Murray Lerner, Mexico’s earthquake victims, those lost to hurricane Irma, Frank Vincent, Len Wein, Grant Hart, Harry Dean Stanton, Michelle Rounds, Bonnie Angelo, Hugh Hefner, Jake La Motta, Eddie Russell Jr., Edith Windsor, Tony Booth and Monty Hall.

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