#a stickler for rules (which she absolutely passed down to her son)

[citroncynique]

Uuuuuh an attempt at designing Meursault's mom I guess? She's giving perpetually jaded parisienne and that's all I need from her tbh.

I wonder how she died in LCB. or like. The circumstances. Esp for Meur himself to get in trouble for it. What if she was a big name in N Corp or something...... who knows......

[rachelbethhines]

Robin Hood and His Merry Band

list of characters for an original series I’m working on 

Alan-a-Dale - the gloomy and cynical bard, the grumpy voice of reason who doesn’t give a fuck, wonders why he hangs out with these crazies, knows it’s cause they’re family to him but won’t admit it out loud, besties with Friar Tuck even though they never agree on anything, is clearly a bi disaster 

The Archdeacon of Canterbury - The aging head cleric of the church of England. He supports King Richard but is becoming increasingly impotent because of his failing health. Still holds a lot of political power because of his title though.

The Azure Assassin - A deadly mercenary and rival to Robin Hood. Orphaned at a young age Azure had to steal to survive. She stowed away on a pirate ship at the age of ten and has spent the pass eight years studying fighting techniques the world over. They call her the Azure Assassin because her blue eyes are the last thing you’ll see before dying. She’s gained a modest fortune and fame as a spy and assassin, however she can never stay in one play too long due to her reputation getting out. Prince John has offered her a pardon and a place in high society if she brings in Robin Hood’s head. Shame she’s fallen in love with his brother Will Scarlet, as that complicates matters.  

The Bishop of Hereford - Conservative asshole who supports Prince John’s rule and shares his beliefs on ‘bringing order to the kingdom’. Wants to usurp the Archdeacon as the head of the church. Is Friar Tuck’s and Sister Clara’s arch nemesis.

Dame Brianna DuBois - Also known as the The Black Knight, DuBois is loyal to the throne of England and whoever sits upon it. She’s Prince John’s personal bodyguard and unbeknownst to all a double agent for King Richard who is in hiding. However she is conflicted when her duty places her lover Yua in jeopardy. Yes, she’s totally a butch lesbian.   

The Duke of Essex - Prince John’s adviser and right hand man. He only cares for power for power’s sake but is sneaky and conniving and willing to play the long game to get it. He prefers poison to swords, but is surprisingly good at hand to hand combat when cornered. Has a pet snake. It’s the only living thing that he loves.    

Elenore of England - Prince John and King Richard’s sister and Maid Marian’s mother. She died when negotiations during a worker dispute turned violent. Unable to quell the people’s rage, she was stuck down during a riot. Richard, blaming himself for losing his temper and causing things to escalate has since tried to follow in her footsteps and become peacemaker. Prince John went the opposite route and blamed the ungrateful peasants (criminals in his mind) and resented Richard for even bothering to negotiating in the first place.   

Friar Tuck - The jovial and optimistic heart of the team. He tries to keep everyone’s spirits up and believes that helping people is the ultimate expression of god’s love. Is a hopeless romantic and also very, very gay. He butts heads with more traditional leaders of the church often. He also has a not so secret crush on his best friend Alan. 

Guy of Gisbourne - From pauper to nobleman, Guy is Robin’s opposite in everyway. He crawled up from the bottom rung by using and stepping on others and he’s always looking for the opportunity to climb the ranks. Don’t let his foppish ways fool you though, he is both a cunning and ruthless foe and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. His latest scheme however is to marry Maid Maiden and become next in line for the throne as Prince John has no other heirs save his ward.  

King Richard - Good Richard the Lionhearted is no longer a bloodthirsty crusader in this alternate universe but a peacemaker. He wishes to end wars, not start them, however his more abrasive, uncouth, and impulsive nature can often clash with his loftier goals. Many feel the king would do better to stay at home and tend to domestic matters instead of concerning himself with the conflicts of other far off lands. At the start of the story he has disappeared on one of his diplomatic visits. In reality Prince John has stuck a deal with the king’s enemies and he is currently on the run. 

Lady Tiffany - Little John’s little wife and the daughter of the Sherriff of Nottingham. She acts as the gang’s ‘man on the inside’ helping Robin Hood sneak in and out of places and feeding the team needed information. She’s stubborn and spoiled but also very kind hearted. She usually can get her father to give into her demands with just a pout and when that doesn’t work a full on tantum will do. She a woman who knows what she wants and what she wants is her man. Unfortunately daddy dreariest would never approve of their union and so Friar Tuck marries them in secret.  

Little John - Robin’s best friend and right hand man. He’s a simple man who loves life’s simple pleasures, good food, good friends, and a good brawl from time to time. He adores his partner, Tiffany and would like nothing more than to marry her for real, in a real church, in front of the whole world. However their relationship must remained hidden from her father, the Sheriff, since the violent lawman would sooner see him hanged then have a thief for a son-in-law.  

Lord Locksley - Robin’s and Will’s father. He is arrested for ‘not paying taxes’ but in reality it’s for supporting King Richard and secretly helping the displaced monarch. His arrest leads to Robin and Will becoming outlaws and the series kicks off two years later.   

Maid Marian - Prince John’s ward and niece. Her mother died when she was young and her beloved uncle adopted her. Prince John is the only parent she’s ever known and she at first believes him to be a kind and just man. She’s completely oblivious of Prince’s John’s underhanded dealings and oppression of the poor and at first is skeptical of Robin Hood. However as the two grow closer, Marian learns how harsh the real world is and just how much her father figure has lied to her. 

Miss Yua - Maid Marian’s lady-in-waiting and best friend. She’s the daughter of Sir Ivanhoe and longs to be a knight as well. She’s a stickler for rules and doesn’t trust Robin Hood and his gang of thieves. At first anyways, over time she too learns of Prince John’s cruelty and even becomes a victim of the tyrant’s schemes. Which puts her in direct conflict with her love, Brianna DuBois.  

Much the Miller's Son - born as Midge the miller’s daughter, the young Much longs to be accepted as a boy. As such he’s ditched his dresses, cut his hair, and ran away to Sherwood Forrest in order to be free from society’s expectations. The rest of the merry band accepts Much for who he really is, but at only 13 won’t let him join their gang. He still winds up caught up in their misadventures anyways due to his refusal to listen to anybody, and his determination to get away from his overbearing mother. 

Nurse Agnes - Maid Marian’s wet nurse and the closest thing to a mother that she has. Agnes believes in the ‘old ways’ and is very superstitious. She’s also very critical of royalty in general, but is smart enough not to say so out loud. She’s tried to raise Marian into a better person than Prince John, but eventually was dismissed once Marian had come of age. Since leaving the court Agnes has become the witch of the woods and a healer for the poor. 

Prince John - The main antagonist. Prince John believes that he needs to bring order to the kingdom of England and feels like his brother King Richard has neglected his duties as ruler and placed the kingdom in danger. He'll do whatever it takes to protect the country including subjecting it’s undesirables.  

Robin Hood - Leader of the Merry Band and archer extraordinaire, Robin Hood had to go on the lam when his father was arrest for ‘treason’. While his first priority was to keep his baby brother, Will, safe, the two of them met other outcasts in need over the years have built up an underwound network of rebels who fight against Prince John’s rule. Seemingly suave and cool at first, Robin is actually a bundle of nerves as he tries desperately to keep his friends and family safe...even if it’s mostly from themselves. His world is turned upside down though when he meets the lovely Maid Marian. 

Sheriff of Nottingham - The spiteful and cruel sheriff tries to keep the small town of Nottingham under his thumb. He hates Robin Hood and his Merry Band with a passion and sees their continued exitance as a personal insult. The only thing that will deter him from his goal of putting those outlaws in their place is his devotion to his beloved daughters Tiffany. Who distracts him with her seemingly impulsive and shallow whims.   

Sir Ivanhoe - A respected knight who once served under King Richard has returned home only to find that his king has not made the journey back as planned. He suspects that Prince John is up to no good, but is afraid to make any risky moves so long as his daughter Yua lives among the court. Her safety is the most important thing in the world to him. 

Sister Clara - The resident nerd of Sherwood Forrest and the brains of the team. Clara had joined a convent in order to receive an education and to study science, however her experiments were frowned upon by more traditional leaders of the church, like the Bishop of Hereford. She’s since renounced her monastic vows and has joined Robin Hood’s Merry Band in the pursuit of science! She’s allowed free rein on the sole condition that she doesn’t blow up the camp.  She still manages to blow up the camp, at least once a month. Still her inventions are invaluable to the team and she’s absolutely feral with her chim-bombs.  

The Trapper - A mysterious hermit who sometimes visits the local pub. He’ll often corner patrons with crazy drunken ramblings and loves to give Robin cryptic prophecies and disjoined ‘clues’ whenever they run into each other. (turns out this is an act and he’s really a spy for King Richard)

Will Scarlett - Robin’s younger brother. Will was 15 when they lost their father and now at 17 wants revenge. He’s a hothead and is constantly picking fights with everyone and anyone. While he is dismissive of Robin’s overprotectiveness, he both loves and admires his brother. Even tries to emulate him in some ways. He also would like to think of himself as a smooth talking clever con artist and ladies man but more often then not his temper gets the better of him. Like most teens he’s obsessed with the latest fashion tends and loves to wear fancy clothes (that he’s usually stolen) He’s favorite article of clothing is his impractical red feathered hat. He’s in love with Azure and is best friends with Much. 

[excuseme-youpretty]

BTS Reaction ~ Caught by their child

Anonymous asked:

Hello, can I please request how all the members react to your child walking in in you when your making out or being intimate.🥰

All credits for the gifs go to the original owners/makers.

Genre: Fluff / Crack. Slight smut.

Rating: M

Word Count: 575 - 980

Warnings: Heavy allusions to sex but nothing too graphic!

Kim Seokjin

It is no secret that Seokjin always prefers to perform his culinary magic underneath the rhythmic guidance of whatever cheesy pop song happens to illuminate his beloved sticker-slathered radio. Tonight's offering? Britney Spears. 

As you make your approach from behind, you can hear your husband synchronize the sharp click of his knife tearing through colorful fresh vegetables with the admission that oops, Britney has indeed done it once again, and can't help but to chuckle.

Your arms enslave his midsection as you press your lips into the smooth strip of velvet skin at the nape of his neck. His hands hesitate for a minute only; just long enough for an enthralled grin to decorate his face.

"Well hello, babe. Fancy seeing you here."

Seokjin is careful to peel away the latex of his gloves before he turns, cradling both of your cheeks within his palms as he pulls you forward. His lips just barely brush across your own.

"And where is our little lovebug right now?"

You sigh contently, thumbing over the solidity of his abdomen through his flour-speckled shirt. 

"She's currently captivated by the wonderful adventures of Mickey Mouse's Clubhouse. You know how she gets… she could be watching for hours."

"Hours, you say?" Seokjin smirks, applying just enough pressure on your bottom lip so that he may autograph a signature heart across your flesh with his tongue. "Well, that gives me just enough time to indulge on a craving I've been having…"

Seokjin's palms are exceptionally warm where they slip across the small of your back, thumbs painting intricate semi-circles over the elastic waistband of your cotton shorts before they delve even lower. He palms across your outer thigh with the same delicacy he would afford kneading an enriched dough.

You can't help but to release a small, perfectly clipped exhale of pure bliss.

"Aren't you worried that you will spoil your appetite, Jinnie?"

Seokjin's digits move rapidly. They slot underneath your thighs in order to aid in twisting your body that bit closer, the tip of his nose skimming across your fluttering pulse point.

"On the contrary. I consider this to be an appetiser; an Amuse-bouche if you will." 

Seokjin's velour lips weave a haphazard pathway down between your collarbones, clinging to a particular cluster of nerves that he is certain will nudge you toward delirium. 

"And I happen to find my wife very amuse-ing."

He lifts your thigh slowly, shifting your leg until it wraps securely around his waist, and begins to lift you up onto the counter-

"Eomma!" Your daughter cries, her voice as syrupy-sweet and innocent as birdsong. 

Her little feet pad triumphantly across the kitchen tile, her unicorn slippers squeaking with every fortified step. 

"Eomma, you missin' d'best bits!"

Seokjin is swift to back away from you, dropping your leg as though your flesh had transformed to molten lava and seared his palm. His back hits the edge of the sink with a rather comical thud, ironically synchronized with the orchestral stab of The Backstreet Boys announcing - once again - that they are back.

You have been left rather uncoordinated yourself, heat pouring into your stomach with all of the cloying stickiness of a candy-coated toffee apple.

"Sorry, darling. Eomma will be right there, okay? I was just asking Appa if he needed any help with dinner."

Your daughter's eyes are large and round and so similar to her Father's own that it is almost frightening; they contain an abundance of constellations and more knowledge than should be capable of someone her age. 

Her bottom lip protrudes in thought, plump and ever so slightly discolored from slurping on grape juice all afternoon. It only takes a minute before she nods, seemingly satisfied with your excuse.

"Okai, Eomma. But huwwy!"

Taking off in a carefree, infantile sprint, with her slippers squawk-squeaking all the way, you are finally left alone with your husband once again.

"Rain check?" You ask once your heartbeat has settled back into a reasonable rhythm. 

Seokjin brushes his thumb underneath your jawline, swiping over the small cluster of ginger-hued freckles which kiss your skin. He tips your face skyward, pressing a smattering of kisses back and forth over your satine cheekbones.

"Rain check. No appetisers tonight, babe."

A brief flicker of tanzanite temptation illuminates your husband's vision, one of his hands slipping down to rest almost tauntingly around your throat.

"I'll just have to have you for dessert instead."

Min Yoongi

Min Yoongi has always considered himself to be a being with exceptional hearing. He can detect even the smallest alteration in pitch, can recognise when an arrangement requires more volume or bass or vocal power, and can easily complete a portfolio of compositions in a single afternoon.

And yet, his outstanding hearing is so acute that he almost misses the unmistakable sound of his studio's pass code being punched in.

"Yoongi?" You breathe quietly, treading lightly lest you shatter the creative bubble that your husband is famous for cocooning himself within. 

Yoongi pivots slowly in his chair, swivelling around until he can face you fully. Light touches his eyes with the intensity of several beautifully bobbing fireflies. 

"What're you doing here, sweetheart?" He chirrups, sparing a brief glance toward his wristwatch. "I thought the kids and I were going to pick you up from work today?"

Yoongi's arms open out toward you, encouraging you to burrow into his lap without much need for communication. 

You drape over his thighs as though you were pouring yourself into the very mould of your husband, situating yourself into all of the nooks and crannies you have claimed ownership over since the dawn of your relationship. 

"Well, I finished early." You place an abundance of soft, featherweight kisses along the underside of Yoongi's razor-sharp jawline; savouring the fragrant tang of cologne which glistens like diamonds upon his skin. "Which means we just so happen to have some alone time before the twins get dropped off. Just think of the possibilities~"

No more than a moment after your syllables have been fully formulated does Yoongi wrap his opalescent fingertips around the nape of your neck and pull you close. 

He kisses you deeply, presses the very tips of his cuspids into your bottom lip and lalves over the succulent indents with the gloss of his tongue until he can feel you shudder against him.

Your hands find their way into his hair with very little navigation. Sighing blissfully, you rake your nails over his scalp as though you were illustrating your initials in vibrant saffron sands; leaving your mark in the form of several exhilarated goosebumps.

"I love you." You whine, tipping your head back just far enough to provide enough room for Yoongi to suck several small candy wrappers into your throat.

"You too, sweetheart."

Yoongi's palms bracket over the swell of your jeans, each digit slipping one by one into the stitching of your back pockets so that he can grab your fleshy behind by the fistful. 

He guides you forward, setting a slow but deliberate pace as you work in tandem with each other to feel-

This time, there is no mistaking the distinct sound of Yoongi's pass code being punched in.

You only just manage to pry yourself from your husband's lap by the time that his studio door bursts open. 

You hear your twins before you see them; a cornucopia of fluorescent overalls and mismatched trainers and a seemingly unfathomable energy which completely belies their own paternity. 

"Eomma!" Your son cries, the latter syllable smothered by the sensation of him excitedly clinging to your calf. "You're here!"

"Yes baby, Eomma is here!"

Beside you, your daughter makes quick work of climbing all over Yoongi's torso. Her hyperactive cackles seem to reverberate throughout the studio walls as she runs her chubby hands all over Yoongi's silver-toned hair; worsening the mess your own digits had made not five minutes before.

"Appa is a lion! Raaaawr! Look Unki NamNam!"

Lifting your son into your arms, you spare a glance over to the man in question and internally curse Namjoon's uncanny ability to destroy even a moment of impromptu passion. 

"Sorry I'm early." Namjoon sighs, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck.

He can't seem to meet your eye.

But as you glance over toward Yoongi, making sure to nod artificially every so often as though to show feigned interest in the tall tales that your twins are spinning, you are met with a pair of dark, bottomless irises which sparkle, bubble and pop with the promise of what's to come as soon as you are protected by the coverage of twilight.

Yoongi definitely doesn't need exceptional hearing to know that your heart is absolutely beating out of your chest.

Jung Hoseok

On days like these it is often hard to determine what has your head spinning faster; the sensation of Hoseok twirling you under his arm or the reverberation of music pulsing like gunpowder throughout your veins. 

Realistically, you should have known that your dance rehearsal was in jeopardy the second that Hobi's phone had diverted away from the relay of his own voice and opted instead to play Sistar's Touch My Body; your husband's not-so-hidden vice.

After grinning wildly and gyrating his body back and forth to the swish-swish dance of the song, he had pulled you in close in order to innocently mouth the lyrics against your cheek. 

Fortunately, you had always been a stickler for following the rules. 

And touching Hobi's body has always been your favourite pastime activity.

Your fingertips had found purchase upon the ridge of his collarbones, thumbs falling into the crease of his deliciously sweaty skin before shifting lower. Your lips had painted his Adam's apple with precision, tasting the sherbet of his aftershave and the natural essence of Hoseok.

Now your lips are plump and swollen from the feverish trap of his uncoordinated kisses.

He has you pinned up against one of the mirrored walls by his pelvis, the tip of his tongue writing soulful soliloquies into your skin until you glow with poorly contained adoration. 

"Mm, Hobi. Calm down~" You sigh, arching up into the pressure of Hoseok's teeth as they paint faint crescent-shaped halos in the flesh of your earlobe.

Hoseok shifts his fingertips around your wrists, effectively binding them in a ribbon of calluses and articulation as he traps them up over your head.

"I can't help it, honey. You know what you do to me, don't you?"

"I'd have a guess, but I'd say that the evidence is pretty clear."

Certainly, with how Hoseok presses against you, he leaves very little to the imagination. 

"A guess? Well, Maybe I'm not making myself clear enough, then…"

Using his unpreoccupied hand, Hoseok dips the faintest whisper of his fingertips into his mouth in order to get them appropriately wet. He then kicks your ankles apart, situating his thigh in place between your quivering knees. 

It does not take a genius to recognize the unbridled gallop of small, toddling feet racing through narrow linoleum hallways. Nor does it require much effort to deduct that those very footsteps and the loud, high-spirited giggles which precede them can only belong to your son. 

The studio door swings open with all the momentum of a party popper being pulled taut. Only instead of confetti you are rewarded by the sight of your son's beautifully plump rosy cheeks and his gap-toothed grin.

"Appa~!"

Hoseok turns just in time to drop to his knees and scoop your toddler up into his arms, the tone of his voice shifting from leather and velvet into something bubbling and bright.

"There's my little Hapi!" Hobi coos, nuzzling into your son's soft mousy hair. "Did you have a good day with Uncle Kookie?"

"Uh-huh! Appa, you look so silly! You wearing Eomma's lips!" 

Hoseok lifts his thumb to swipe it over his bottom lip, gathering the fluorescent remnants of your transferred lipstick which lingers there.

"Yes I am." Hobi teases. "Do you want some? Mwah~"

It takes half a second before your son shrieks in protest, immediately sprinting away from your husband's chaotic influence. Hoseok chases after him with pursed lips, making outrageously exaggerated smacking noises during his pursuit. 

Sighing softly, you lean all of your body weight on the mirror behind you and fan your face with your palm in an attempt to cool your rapidly rising body temperature. 

"You're blushing awfully hard." Jeongguk acknowledges as he settles in beside you. 

"Dance rehearsals. Worked up quite a sweat."

"Oh, I bet. You want me to keep him out a little later next time?"

Your teeth find purchase on the crease of your bottom lip, a residual sting prickling upon your flesh from how intensely you had been kissed mere minutes before. Your pulse continues to fizzle and pop and jump underneath your skin; a firework ready to burst.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You watch as Hoseok finally catches up to your squealing son. He lifts him effortlessly, pressing kiss after kiss over his rotund cheeks and your heart absolutely sings. How did you get so lucky?

And yet, as Hobi tucks your child carefully underneath his chin, you don't miss the way that his mouth dances around a simple word inundated with promise.

'Later.'

You can't wait to see what 'choreography' piece Hoseok will teach you next.

Kim Namjoon

There is something to be said about the sweetness of Namjoon's kisses during nightfall, when the moon is pitched high over Seoul's skyline and there is little need for urgency. 

Without the influence of convoluted phone calls or frequented business meetings, it is almost as though your husband has been impassioned anew.

His kisses always start off deceptively slow, the petal pink tip of his tongue wicking across your bottom lip like butter gliding over hot toast. He rests his palms against your crimson-hued cheeks, guiding you that bit closer to his body as your bedsheets rustle down around your hips akin to a tambourine being jostled. 

"I love you." Namjoon sighs, rotating his body so that you fall to a collapse against his exposed torso.

Your fingertips splay against his flushed skin as though seeking out purchase, eager to aid in the transition of your rolling hips. 

"I love you more." 

Burning with vibrant adoration, you can feel your stomach positively froth with frenzied butterflies. Your lips lather a steady stream of kisses down between Namjoon's pectoral muscles, pausing just millimeters below his ribcage where you sink your teeth ever so gently into his skin, determined to leave a mark which will last for days to come. 

"And now I'm going to prove just how much I-" 

The sound of your daughter's shrill, waterlogged sobs as they carry through from her nursery and into your bedroom is stark and corrosive; a bolt of lightning which strikes through your sternum with the intensity of blunt nails on a chalkboard. 

As she tumbles into your bedroom, raven hair plastered to her cheeks by way of her seemingly limitless tears, and her tiny hands balled into fists where they cling to her beloved Koya plushie, you are quick to spring from your bed in order to gather her up into your arms.

"Oh sweetheart! What's wrong?"

Burying her reddened nose into your neck, your daughter splutters through her words.

"D'eres a monsta under m'bed! He's big n'mean and.. and scawy!!"

"A monster, huh?" 

After some careful readjustments, Namjoon climbs out of bed to join your side. He runs his hands affectionately over your daughter's swollen cheeks, clearing the hair away from her eyes. 

"Well, I'd like to have words with this so-called Monster. Let him know that he's messing with The Rap Monster and his beautiful little Princess. We'll see how mean and scary he is then!"

You each take one of your daughter's petite hands, being mindful of Koya’s unshakable presence, and inflate your chests into plates of pseudo armor as you lead her back into her nursery. 

It takes less than a minute for Namjoon to scare away the fictional threat, adding just an ounce of parental gravel to his words for extra emphasis. 

And it takes even less time for your adorable puffy-eyed princess to convince you to stay in bed with her until she feels safe once again.

With both you and Namjoon planted firmly on either side of your toddler's tiny frame, and the sensation of your fingers combing gently through the small tufts of her hair, she finds sleep easily. 

"So…" You whisper, just loud enough for Namjoon to hear over your daughter's infantile snores. "You're a monster, are you?"

Despite the impenetrable darkness of your daughter's room, broken up only by the small heart-shaped night light which twinkles beside her bed, you can clearly see your husband's fiendish smirk.

"Just wait - I'll show you later."

Park Jimin

Two years.

You have been married to Park Jimin for two whole years. 

And in that time you have seen him at his best, with a rhinestone microphone held in place between his dainty fingers and a light sheen of sweat glittering against his brow. You have also seen him at his worst, when thick black bags sit underneath his sunken eyes and sleep is a distant memory. 

You know your husband inside and out; his flaws (or lack thereof) and his many merits.

Which is why you should have known that his suggestion of an impromptu movie night was nothing more than a ruse to have you exactly where he wanted you; draped across his lap on the couch and purring every time his lips brush against a weak spot on your neck. 

"Shh, darling. Not so loud." Jimin teases, already moving to run the tip of his tongue along the underside of your jaw. 

Your fingernails dig into Jimin's biceps from how tightly you grasp at him, leaving small  moon-shaped welts in your wake which somehow pale in comparison to the roses he is currently embossing into your skin.

"You're a cruel man, Park Jimin."

"So I've been told. C'mere."

Maneuvering his hands underneath the blanket which he had draped over your shoulders in order to preserve your modesty, Jimin clasps at your hips and pulls you that bit closer to him. 

"You're so beautiful." He sighs, swiping his thumb over your bejewelled lips.

For a moment he simply stares at you, admiring the cinnamon flush of your cheeks and the way in which you seem to flutter with every poorly managed breath; his influence evident.

Unwilling to lose this unspoken game you are playing, you up the ante by bearing your hips down against Jimin's own and push your fingertips through his bubblegum pink locks until he hums with bliss.

"Now who's the cruel one, darling?"

Before you can answer, the sound of your son's hiccuping whimpers resonates from inside his nearby bedroom. 

"Appa! Eomma!"

Throwing the blanket off your shoulders, you are quick to rise from Jimin's lap, not missing the urgent way in which he grabs the fleece in question and places it over the space you had once occupied.

Your son darts into the room with a speed which belies his small stature, falling into your arms with his bottom lip quivering and his paw print pyjamas torn at the knee. 

"Hey, easy! What happened?"

Your son rubs furiously at his damp eyes, making small but urgent grabby-hands toward his Father. Jimin reaches over to rub affectionately at tiny knuckles.

"Twipped. Was thirsty and twipped!"

He points adamantly at the small red welt which glows against the pale skin of his knee, his entire body shaking with barely contained sobs.

"Aw, you poor thing." Jimin consoles, his own lower lip protruding in a manner which reflects your toddler's pout exactly. "Eomma, our little Tiny got himself a booboo."

"So I see. You definitely have your Father's clumsiness trait, hm?" 

Careful to avoid hurting him, you place a gentle kiss against the affected area.

"There we go. Good as new. Now, let's go get you a bandaid, okay?"

"Iwonman?"

"Of course! An Ironman bandaid for my little superhero."

As you lift your son with the intent of carrying him into the bathroom to patch up his battle scar, he makes a small whining noise and reaches for Jimin once again.

"Appa? You come too?"

You watch as your husband's face somehow darkens in hue. His ears burn scarlet-hot, beads of sweat stippled like pearls across his clavicle. He glances between you, your son, and the blanket currently concealing his hips.

"Uhh-"

"Appa will join us in a minute, baby. He's just gonna clean up first. Right, Appa?"

Jimin nods enthusiastically. "Right! I'll be there in a minute, Tiny. Promise."

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, your son turns to rub his cheek into your chest, already changing the subject to an unusual dream he had earlier in the evening.

Briefly, you can see the relief flash in Jimin's eyes as he collapses back onto the couch. He bites his bottom lip, mouthing a brief word of thanks toward you.

You blow him a kiss in response, not missing the way that Jimin pushes his fingers back through his hair to fix the mess you had made. His eyes briefly sparkle with something oh so familiar; something salacious.

After two years, you can be certain that you know your husband well enough to guarantee that your little game of cat and mouse is far from over. 

Kim Taehyung

When Taehyung loses himself to his illustrations he is always completely silent. 

His lips form a pursed rosette of pure concentration, brows furrowed low across his forehead, and his pinkie finger develops a small but temporary tick every time he pauses to load his paintbrush with a new pigment.

He is so silent, in fact, that the only sound you can hear on your approach toward his office is that of novelty ice cubes clinking back and forth within the glass of freshly poured lemonade you prepared for him.

Knocking politely on the door to alert him to your presence, you can only watch in awe as Taehyung dabs a bead of sweat from his brow, his fingertips stained shades of periwinkle and amaranth. 

He stipples another dollop of paint onto his canvas, brushing back and forth in broad strokes in order to heighten the saturation of a particular petal cluster.

"Hey, you." You hum contentedly, placing the glass of lemonade down on Taehyung's desk. "I thought you could use a drink."

"Thank you, Jagiya. That's very kind of you."

Placing his paintbrush down into a pot of discolored water to soak, Taehyung turns in his chair to face you. He reaches his arms up overhead and stretches until his shoulders give a rather satisfying pop and then reaches out toward you, guiding you into his lap.

His large palms stroke along the individual notches of your spine, touching you with the same care he would afford a piece of fine, antique china. The tip of his nose nestles against yours for a moment, wading back and forth before he uses the cool compress of his thumb to elevate your chin.

"Look at you. So beautiful; my muse."

Your husband's words flutter about inside your abdomen like dispersed dandelion seeds; soft and aerated and tickling you in all the right ways. 

He kisses you softly, deeply, the tip of his tongue tracing whimsical patterns across every dip and divot of your lower lip as though he has found his new favourite canvas; a magnum opus all wrapped up in a beautiful wife-shaped bow. 

You can feel every single brush and stroke of his tongue as he kisses you, somehow both cool and hot at the same time, until you are absolutely incandescent with hue and color.

Taehyung shifts until you are comfortably straddling both of his hips. His calloused thumbs knead at the nape of your neck until goosebumps sprinkle like powdered sugar upon your skin. 

With your husband's outrageously long fingertips combing through your hair, you find yourself clasping onto the crisp collar of his shirt simply to keep yourself afloat. 

You trace the blunt curvature of your nail against his pulse point, doodling a small asymmetric heart on his gilded skin which quickly dissipates when his blood begins to flow southward.

"You taste so sweet, Jagi." Taehyung remarks once your mouths finally separate, savouring the numb tingling sensation which busies his tongue.

"Not as sweet as you do, Taehyungie."

You catch your teeth against your husband's earlobe, ever so carefully guiding the steel loop of his piercing into your mouth. Taehyung's torso seems to reverberate when he mewls, his every breath pitched by anticipation as you guide your hands lower and lower and-

Yeontan darts into Taehyung's office with such gleeful acceleration that you almost leap out of your skin. 

He yips merrily, a petite ball of downy-soft fur flanked by your shrieking daughter and her tiny outstretched fingertips. 

"TanTan!" She squeals, chasing Yeontan with reckless abandon.

Sighing softly, you place a small apologetic kiss to Taehyung’s nose and climb to your feet once more.

"Are you having fun, sweetheart?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Taehyung reach for the lemonade glass. He takes a long, dehydrated drink. 

"Uh-huh!" 

Your daughter's arms are short and chubby where they wrap around Yeontan's fluffy brown body. She places a comically loud kiss to the top of his head and then bursts into a fit of bright, energetic giggles.

"Eomma!" She wheezes, pointing a finger up at you. "Yous all colow!"

You bring a hand up to your face, frowning when you feel the crackled texture of rapidly drying paint swept over your cheeks and into the roots of your hair; Taehyung's evident touch tinting your skin turquoise. 

"Ah, yeah. Eomma was just helping Appa to paint."

"Ooh! Can y'paiwnt me too, Appa?"

You blush sheepishly, watching the way that Taehyung instantly softens when your daughter regards him with a vibrant rosewater smile and hopeful eyes so similar to his own.

"Of course, Cherub. Come here."

Taehyung lifts her up into his arms, helping her get comfortably situated on the ball of his knee. He grabs for one of his many paintbrushes, drying the excess moisture on a paper towel before he dips it onto a dollop of glowing tangerine paint.

He turns toward her, his tongue protruding ever so slightly out of the corner of his lips as he once again falls victim to his own concentration. 

He starts by painting an almost perfect circle against her cheek, chasing it with an abundance of soft squiggly wisps until he has created a summer-bright sun on her skin.

And it works, because she positively burns with delight.

"I suppose I better leave you both to it, hm?" You muse, your voice almost lost to Taehyung's amused giggling as your daughter sings his praises. 

You carefully usher Yeontan out of the room, a surprisingly easy task as he trots off in search for a place to nap, and just barely catch the scalding hot sear of your husband's eyes meeting your own.

"You'll finish painting me later, won't you?"

Taehyung rests his chin ever so gently against the top of your daughter's head. His lips twitch with poorly contained mirth.

"You can count on it, Jagiya."

Jeon Jeongguk

The sound of deliciously hot water hammering down on cool tile is loud; a brigade of heavy footsteps echoing throughout an otherwise tranquil room. 

And yet, it pales in comparison to the vehement growls Jeongguk emits every single time your fingertips brush over his abdomen.

Your digits move as though you have been hypnotised, the pads of your thumbs following a line of apricot-scented suds as they skim down betwixt Jeongguk's hardened muscles. 

"Baby, if you keep touching me like that I swear it's game over."

It never fails to astound you just how talented Jeongguk is at kissing - much like everything else. 

His lips crash against your own, sticky and warm and deliciously wet from the torrential downpour of a perfectly-angled shower head. Using the prickle of his teeth, he paves a petite pathway into your mouth. His tongue conducts something of a waltz alongside the succulent slip-slide of your own. 

When you finally break for air, your lungs tingling with the poetry of a perfectly executed liplock, you can see starstruck galaxies burning just beyond your damp lashes. 

Finally, fighting past the lump which has formed in your throat, you will yourself to simply speak.

"And if you keep kissing me like that, I'm going to be forced to pounce on you."

Jeongguk's playful laughter seems to reverberate throughout his sternum, smothered in part by the sensation of his nose ghosting down your stomach as he slowly folds onto his knees.

"Challenge accepted."

Turning his head into the flush of your thighs, Jeongguk peppers kiss after kiss against your water-warmed skin. He starts at the base of your knee and works his way up, pausing only when he feels the tug of your trembling fingers his hair.

He grins, fiendish and dark, and you see stars far brighter than your wedding band shimmering in contrast to his inky-black hair. 

"Jeongguk, I-"

"Nnnnyeeeoowww~!"

The noise of your son's small, sputtering lips opening and closing as he makes loud, enigmatic sound effects is unmistakable.

Through the percussion of water droplets you can hear plastic feet pit-patting against the bathroom counter, dashing across your various lotions and potions, and undoubtedly destroying the perfect sanctuary you have spent the entire afternoon crafting.

Jeongguk stares up at you with wide doe eyes, pressing his pointer finger to his lips.

"Appa?" 

Internally hissing, Jeongguk pulls the shower curtain back just far enough to poke his head out, hoping that his son's ignorance and naivety is enough to prevent him from questioning why he's situated so low to the ground.

"What's the matter, bud?"

"Can we pway supahewoes?" 

Your son shakes a worn Spiderman action figure in Jeongguk's face, his smile full of young bewilderment.

"Uhh.." Jeongguk turns his head to glance up at you. 

He absolutely does not miss the way that you smirk, clearly finding humor in your current predicament that Jeongguk himself sorely lacks.

"What about Uncle Yoongi? Can't he play with you?"

"Nuh-uh. He gone nap-nap. N'I can't find Eomma!"

Jeongguk swallows his sigh, briefly thumbing through a rolodex of suitable excuses within his mind. When he comes up short, he gnaws against his bottom lip and opts instead to admit defeat.

"Okay, buddy. Give me five minutes and I'll be right out, okay?"

"Yay!" 

From your position pressed flush against the cold shower wall, you can hear your son bounce up and down from excitement. After a brief victory cheer, he quickly darts out of the bathroom and leaves you alone with your partner once more.

"So… Good call on asking Yoongi to babysit for us to give us some alone time, huh?"

Jeongguk rolls his eyes as soon as he springs back up onto his feet.

"Yeah, Yeah. Even a golden maknae is wrong every once in a while."

Brushing his thumb over your fuchsia colored cheekbone, Jeongguk pulls you forward into a sickeningly sweet open-mouthed kiss. His tongue lalves a brief signature against your own; just enough to leave you sizzling all afternoon long.

"We'll pick this back up later, okay?"

You sigh happily, bringing a hand up to stroke across the spun sugar sting of your lips.

"It's a date."

Make your own request HERE ♥

[ceealaina]

Everything You Do Convinces Me More

Title: Everything You Do Convinces Me More Pairing: Steve Rogers x Tony Stark Link: AO3 Rating: T Summary: Steve likes to prank people. And then he and Tony hook up. There’s some kind of connection to the two events in there somewhere. Word Count: 5,222 A/N: Loosely based on this tumblr post about Steve being a total troll. My brain read it and ran with it. 

It started during Steve’s “reintegration process,” shortly after he’d been thawed from the ice, when SHIELD hadn’t quite figured out what to do with him yet, but didn’t want to risk leaving him to his own devices, and had kept him on lockdown instead. They hadn’t called it that, of course, but Steve wasn’t stupid. 

And the thing was? Reintegration was really damn boring. Steve missed the 40s, of course he did. He missed his friends, missed Peggy and the commandos (and Bucky, always Bucky, like a hole in his chest). And of course it was a culture shock sometimes; he didn’t think he’d ever get over the price of a cup of coffee. But it didn’t take him nearly as long to adjust as everyone seemed to expect, and the Recent American History books got real dry real fast. And well, ask anyone who really knew him, and Steve had always been a bit of a punk. 

So he started fucking with people. 

It was just harmless stuff, really, nothing more than a mild irritant. He’d taken to computers and the internet like a duck to water, and one day, three hours deep into YouTube videos, he ended up watching a 47-second video on how to flip a desktop screen. And so the next day, when he passed Agent Endright’s unoccupied desk (the same agent who, three days earlier had explained how to use a damn microwave in the most condescending tone that Steve had ever heard), he hadn’t been able to resist. And when he heard the frustrated cries coming from Agent Endright - who apparently hadn’t watched the same video as Steve - something warm blossomed in his heart. 

It turned out there were all kinds of fun tricks you could pull with desktops, so a few days later he slipped into Agent Alvarez’s office, quickly took a screenshot of her screen, and set it as the background, hiding the taskbar at the same time. He couldn’t help snickering himself later that day, when he walked down the hall to hear her grumbling about it to another agent, promising to report them once she found out who had done it. (Agent Alvarez, though very nice, was a stickler for rules. Personally, Steve didn’t think it hurt to approach them with a slightly more laissez-faire attitude.) When she pulled him into the conversation, asking if he had noticed anything, he managed to hide his smile, pulling up his best “aw shucks ma’am” expression as he assured her that he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, but he’d be sure to keep an eye out for any potential culprits. 

The next week he brought in a bag of raisin bagels, concealed in a chocolate chip bagel bag. Chocolate chip bagels were a weakness of Agent Lennox, and Steve made sure to position himself in the staff kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and reading from the newspaper (a real paper one and everything!) when they took a bite, which was promptly spit out with a horrified noise. It was a close thing, but Steve managed to smother his laugh before blinking guilelessly up at Lennox, asking if everything was alright.

He kept going like this for the next couple of weeks. Everyone was talking about the string of pranks that was suddenly plaguing the department, and even though Steve was the only factor that had changed, no one had even the slightest inkling that he might have been behind it. It was kind of great.

Then, of course, Loki arrived and suddenly Steve’s reintegration period was over and without so much as a chance to change his underwear, he was thrown into the thick of things. It was chaos and destruction, and nothing that Steve had ever imagined was even possible. But suddenly he was part of a team again. They’d all gone their own ways at first, but slowly, gradually they’d all made their back to New York, back to Stark - sorry, Avenger - Tower. And it was good. 

They weren’t the Commandos, nowhere near that level of camaraderie, but there was something comforting in the familiarity of having the same people around him every day, and Steve had absolute faith that they would get to the point of real friendship eventually. He just… might… do something to help things along. Like putting purple koolaid in Clint’s shower head (the internet was seriously a wealth of amazing ideas. Steve was a huge fan). Or managing to convince Tony for three hours that he couldn’t figure out how the television remote worked and needed it explained to him. Repeatedly. And that may or may not have turned into a full out prank war among all the avengers that lasted a solid three months, right up until Bruce booby trapped the three hole punch to spray hot sauce, except the person who ended up using it was a high brow client, and Pepper put a stop to the whole thing. 

And through it all, not one person, not even Natasha (he was pretty sure) suspected Steve. They all figured he was some old 1940s fuddy duddy (Clint’s words, not his) who had been born before pranks had been invented, apparently. And Steve was happy to let them keep thinking that, maybe even play it up a little, if it meant he could continue to get away with doing what he was doing. 

The thing was, Steve was kind of a dick. Not an asshole - he felt that was an important distinction. He wasn’t a republican, he firmly believed in equal rights, and he would never hurt someone (unless they were a bad guy, obviously, or otherwise had it coming). But there was some little part of him that liked messing with people in harmless ways. Bucky had known that about him, had always given him suspicious looks, then laughed and called him a punk, ruffling his hair while Steve squawked at him to fuck off. But here no one suspected him, and when he was Captain America, couldn’t quite believe it even while seeing it happen in front of them. So sometimes, when he was exhausted from a long battle, or feeling like Steve Rogers had been replaced by Captain America, or when he was just tired of the pressure of constantly having everyone’s eyes on him, he would do things like steal french fries from strangers in McDonald’s, or shooting past people on bikes when he was out for a run, or cursing up a blue streak in front of teenagers in the park only to stop with a wink the second they pulled their phones out to catch it on camera, or lift cars when there were small children watching (that one was actually super fun. He loved the way their eyes would light up in amazement).

It just made him feel a little bit better about the crazy turns his life had taken. 

*

If you’d asked him three months ago - hell, if you’d asked him three hours ago - Tony would have never, ever pegged Steve as the pranking mastermind. If he’d had to rank the avengers in order of Most Likely to Prank, Steve would be at the very bottom of the list, somewhere below Jarvis. He loved the guy - they’d grown much closer after their initial meeting, and Steve had rapidly grown to be one of Tony’s favourite people. They spent a lot of their free time together, playing long games of chess when neither of them could sleep, or Steve coming down to keep Tony company in the lab, spending hours sketching and talking while Tony got lost in his work. They shared meals, and a love of ice cream, and talked a lot, long conversations that ranged from deep and meaningful to so funny they were on the floor laughing and could barely remember why. Tony adored Steve. He was genuinely kind, smart in a wildly different way from Tony, had a wickedly dry sense of humour that always took Tony off guard, and if Tony was totally honest with himself, he was rapidly developing a pretty strong crush on the man. He’d just never pictured Steve as the pranking type. 

Or at least, that had been the case, right up until the end of the last mission. It had been a long one, though thankfully they’d come out of it relatively unharmed. Tony had banged up his shoulder and ended up hovering near the Quinjet while he made sure it wasn’t anything critical. SHIELD was onsite by then, prepping for cleanup and debriefing, and Tony was only half paying attention to what was going on around him. He could hear people talking close by, and it took a few minutes before he placed Steve’s voice. He sounded confused, and Tony looked up, eyes tracking him down to where he was standing a few feet away, talking to a junior SHIELD agent with a piece of paper in his hand. 

“Son,” he was saying, voice endearing and pleading in a way that only Steve could pull off. “I really need your help with this. Director Fury asked me to fill out this paperwork, and paperwork’s just not my forte. This is form…” He looked down at the paper in his hand. “One-two-seven-niner Delta? And I guess I need form Bravo Bravo One-oh-seven? Do you think you can find the form for me? Fury’s on his way back, and I think he’ll lose it if he has to explain it to me one more time.” 

“I, um.” The agent swallowed, looking confused and more than a little intimidated. “I- yes sir, Captain Rogers. Of course.” He took off at a sprint, and as Tony watched, Steve’s lips twitched, curling up into a smug smile that Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen on Steve’s face before. 

Intrigued now, Tony started fiddling with the side of the Quinjet, turning himself so that he could keep an eye on Steve and his pleased smile while having an excuse at the ready if anyone asked what he was doing. It only took a couple minutes for the agent to return, papers in hand and a perplexed look on his face. 

“Um, Captain Rogers, sir?” 

Steve turned around, that endearing look back on his face, and Tony’s frown deepened because that look was far soppier than anything he’d ever seen on Steve’s face before. 

“Did you find the form, Agent?”

“Uh, well. I think maybe there might have been a mixup? I checked the databases, and I can’t find any record of the form you’re looking for?” He cleared his throat, fluttering the paper in his hand toward Steve. “I did find a form Bravo Bravo one-oh-four. But sir - this is an authorization form requesting permission to host an inner-office bake sale. I-I don’t think that’s the form you were looking for?” 

Tony couldn’t help snorting outloud, and Steve made an awkward choking sound before constructing his facial expression into something even more confused. “Oh,” he said, eyebrows knitting into a frown. “No, I don’t… That can’t be right, can it?” He stared down at the form in the agent’s hand. “Are you sure there isn’t a One-oh-seven?”

“I’m pretty sure, sir.” He was obviously trying to be assertive, but he looked pained at the look on Steve’s face. “I can check again?” 

“Would you?” Steve asked, face lighting up. “I’d really appreciate it.” He frowned at the paper again. “I’m sure Fury doesn’t want me to host a bake sale, but I just can’t wrap my head around searching these databases.” 

“Of course, Captain Rogers sir. I’ll… be back as soon as possible.”

Tony watched him run off again, narrowing his eyes as he watched the exchange. Flipping up his faceplate, he moved over to Steve, who was watching the agent go with the same smile as before. 

“Okay, what gives Rogers?” He asked in an undertone. “There’s no such thing as form Bravo Bravo One-oh-seven.” 

Apparently he’d actually managed to sneak up on Steve, because the other man jumped with a hilarious squawking sound. “Tony! Were you - I didn’t see you there, sorry.” He blinked, face going carefully blank. “What were you saying?” 

“That form you keep sending Agent Two Shoes after? That’s not what we use. It doesn’t even exist. “

“Oh, um. Are you sure? I could have sworn… Oh! You know what? You’re gonna make fun of me, Tony. That’s a form we used during the war. You know, with the ice and everything, sometimes I still get odd things mixed up.” 

“Riiiiight.” Tony frowned at him, puzzling out the detail that had been niggling at him since he first heard Steve talking. “Wasn’t 107 your unit? You know, back in the good old war days?”

Steve shrugged, and there was something slightly panicked in his eyes. “Coincidence. We have a form 70295, and that’s your birthday. It happens.” 

Tony blinked, that stopping him. “You know my birthday? You know those numbers make my birthday?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not exactly a state secret, Tony, of course I know your birthday. Come on, I’m exhausted, and we still have to debrief. I’ll, um. Leave a note for Agent Hicks. Let’s go back to the tower.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Tony said, still giving Steve a suspicious look. “Let’s go.” 

*

Steve laid low after that, partially because he wasn’t sure how long Tony had been standing there and didn’t know how much he had put together, and partially because Tony was like a dog with a bone, kept watching Steve speculatively, and so Steve couldn’t have gotten away with something if he’d tried. Still, as previously established, Steve was a dick at heart, and eventually it seemed as though something else caught Tony’s attention, because he stopped eyeing him every time he walked into a room, or sneaking up on him at random moments. He had never called Steve out either, or questioned him further, so Steve figured it was safe. 

He started out slow, little things like moving Clint’s pizza box to the other side of the room when he ran to grab a drink, just enough to confuse him. When nobody jumped out to accuse Steve of being the catalyst for every prank war that had ever occurred, he started stepping things up again, and before long he had (in his own mind, since no one else could know) once again regained the title of Steve Rogers King of Pranks. 

*

It hadn’t taken Tony long to realize that watching Steve the way he was, he was never going to have another chance to catch him and confirm his suspicions. So he’d stopped. Or at least, he stopped actively watching him. Contrary to popular belief, Tony actually did know how to be subtle. It’s just that subtlety didn’t usually serve him that well, so he never bothered with it. Outing Steve as a secret evil mastermind would definitely serve him though, so subtlety it was. 

It took some time - obviously he’d spooked Steve with all his questions after the paperwork incident - but gradually he noticed Steve relaxing around him again, and not watching Tony in turn. And finally, nearly three months later, Tony’s patience paid off. 

It was after another mission and when Tony noticed Steve off by himself, helping with clean up. He made his way over, finding something to fiddle with just out of Steve’s eyeline. At first he was legitimately just doing his thing, cowl off and face exposed as he muscled some debris out of the street and into a somewhat neat pile. But then, as Tony watched, he paused to brush the hair out of his face and his eyes lighted on a group of little kids, around seven or eight, hovering unsupervised at the edge of the barricades, now that the danger had passed. They were watching in awe, whispering to each other and pointing at Steve in excitement, and while Tony had the brief thought of wondering where on earth their guardians were, they seemed pretty safe. Apparently Steve thought so too, because he stopped his cleanup efforts, grinning over at them and waving, laughing when that made them shriek in excitement and duck out of sight. It was sweet, and while wholesome was everything that you were supposed to expect from Captain America, something about it made Tony go all warm and tingly inside. 

But then, Steve looked around furtively to see if anyone was paying attention to him, and when he didn’t spot anyone, he winked at the kids and then picked up a fucking motorcycle and lifted it over his head. The kids all started hollering in excitement, and Tony didn’t miss the smile that spread across Steve’s face. Half impressed and half wanting to roll his eyes on principle, Tony watched Steve do a few overhead presses with the bike before setting it back down with a heavy clang. He held up a finger to his lips, indicating they should keep it to themselves, a secret between them and Captain America, and the kids all took off screeching in excitement. Steve laughed a little before turning back to what he was doing, the pleased grin on his face softening into something that Tony couldn’t quite place. 

When Tony had imagined finally catching Steve out, he had imagined making a big show of it. Maybe recording proof that he could play in lieu of their next movie night, so that ribbing Steve could be a team bonding experience, maybe just jumping out at Steve so he could hold the fact that he had caught him over his head for the rest of time. But something about the pleased look on Steve’s face, the truly happy smile, stopped him, made him want to do something to keep that smile on his face for always, and so Tony said nothing to anyone. 

*

Now that he knew, Tony couldn’t believe that none of them had picked up on it before. It seemed so obvious, in retrospect. Half the tower pranks happened when Steve was the only one who was even around to do it, and somehow they’d never once suspected him. It was a little disgusting, honestly, like Steve was so sweet and innocent he couldn’t pull a prank - even though they’d all witnessed him cursing out Nazis and Republicans and the Yankees on a regular basis? Tony was a little ashamed of the whole team (and himself, if he was really being honest.) 

More and more he noticed that all the pranks (with the exception of when things escalated to a full-on war) could be traced back to Steve, Steve who always looked just a touch too innocent, now that Tony was looking for it. And he’d had every intention of eventually calling him out, had started out just plotting the best way to do so, what the best reveal would be, how to most effectively show the team that he had figured it out first. Except the longer he went without saying anything, the less he wanted to. He kind of liked the secret of it, liked catching Steve’s small smile after he pulled something off, figuring out how he’d pulled his latest prank. It was like a secret the two of them shared, even if Steve didn’t actually know about it. 

And, truthfully, he was falling in love with this new side of Steve. That little crush had grown into something wildly out of control. Tony had known from the get go that Steve was his exact physical type; he’d jerked off to his pictures more times than he’d care to admit during his formative years, and that inclination hadn’t exactly gone away when he’d met him in person. But he’d gotten to learn Steve’s quirks, to realize he was more than just his father’s most successful experiment, and somewhere in there he’d just accepted that he was more than a little in love with the man. Realizing that Steve was a secret prankster, that he was capable of applying his tactical skills to the kind of pranks that took Tony back to his days with Rhodey at MIT? It was like Steve was made for him. 

They probably would have kept on like this forever, never actually going further than that, if it wasn’t for Clint - or, more specifically, if it wasn’t for Clint almost catching Steve. Tony had stepped off the elevator into the common area to find Clint sprawled across the couch, watching some made-for-tv movie, Steve sitting in a chair close by. Steve looked over at the sound of the elevator, giving Tony a warm smile, before glancing back over at Clint with a subtle look that Tony recognized, which meant something hilarious would be happening soon. 

Sure enough, just as Tony had finished filling his mug with coffee, Clint’s phone started ringing. Clint jumped, because he was a terrible spy, and dug it out from where it was buried in the couch cushions, frowning at the caller ID. 

“Nat?” A second later Clint was wincing, and Tony thought he heard faint sounds of Russian coming down the line. “What? No… I don’t… What? What coffee? No, I�� I didn’t stand you up! I never messaged you! Why would I meet you for coffee in Bed-Stuy?” 

Tony couldn’t help wincing a little in sympathy, because he’d probably be terrified if he’d stood up Nat too. But also, watching Clint flail around, and the way he kept ducking like he was expecting Nat to come flying through the window at him, was a little hilarious. And the way Steve was carefully trying to not pay attention, chewing at his lower lip in a fight to keep from smiling as he looked out towards the window and pretended he wasn’t listening in on Clint’s conversation, made it hard for Tony to really feel that bad about it. 

Five minutes of Clint frantically trying to explain later, and Clint was hanging up the phone, looking decidedly frazzled. “What the fuck,” he breathed, in the tone of voice of a man who had just survived a near death experience. He started scrolling through his phone, frowning down at the screen. 

“Uh… What was that about?” Tony asked, because it looked like Steve was dying to. 

“Nat’s pissed at me for standing her up, but I didn’t even know we were meeting for coffee?” It came out as a frantic question, Clint looking perplexed. “She said I texted her for a coffee date, and that we were supposed to meet at two, but I haven’t talked to her since yesterday.” He shook his head, still staring at his phone. “There’s not even a message here.” 

“Huh,” Steve said, still acting like he was only half interested. “Weird.” 

Clint nodded. “It’s like…” He trailed off, eyes widening in realization. “It’s a prank! I think someone hacked my phone!”

Tony couldn’t help snorting a little. “Using the regular applications on your phone isn’t exactly what you would call hacking,” he pointed out, getting a glare in return. 

,

“Fine,” Clint retorted snottily. “Someone used my phone without my permission. I forgot it here for a couple hours, and…” His eyes grew even wider, and he pointed across the room at Steve. “You! It was you!” 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?” he choked out. “Why would it be me?” 

“You were here! You were here when I left, and you were here when I got back this afternoon,” Clint was insisting, voice cracking a little in excitement. “Oh my god, has it been you this entire time??” 

“Uhhh.” 

“Relax, Legolas,” Tony cut in before Steve could give himself away based solely on the guilty expression he was wearing. “It wasn’t Steve. I mean, it’s Steve,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes when Steve looked a little affronted at that. “Come on. And anyway, he was with me most of the afternoon. I had some ideas for a new stealth suit we were trying out.”

Clint blinked at him, visibly deflating. “Really?” 

“Really,” Tony confirmed, finally chancing a glance over at Steve, who was nodding in agreement. 

“Sorry, Clint,” he offered. “I left right after you did.” 

“Aww, pranks,” Clint mumbled, staring down at his phone. 

“Here.” Tony clapped his hands, and Clint him his phone on instinct. “Let me take a look.” He fiddled with the phone for a few minutes, mostly entertaining himself by going through Clint’s browser history. “Yeah, looks like you have some deleted texts. Sent between 3:02 and 3:18.” 

Clint’s eyes narrowed again as Tony tossed him the phone back. “That’s when Sam gets back from the gym,” he breathed, looking like he was already thinking up ways to get him back. “That fucker.” 

Tony smirked to himself. “And on that note, gentlemen, I’ve got some highly volatile experimental stuff to get back to. If I leave it too long there could be chaos… explosions… All the fun stuff. I’ll see you around.” 

He’d half expected Steve to just pretend the entire thing hadn’t happened. Still, he wasn’t exactly surprised when he’d barely made it down the hall before he was jogging after him. 

“Hey Tony! Tony, wait up. I, uh… Wanted to ask you something?” 

“Oh yeah?” Tony turned, arching an eyebrow at him. “What about?” 

Steve met his gaze steadily. “The new stealth suit. I had a few more thoughts.” 

Tony gestured lazily down the hall. “Well then, walk with me Cap.” 

Steve didn’t actually speak until they were safely down in the workshop, fiddling with some of Tony’s spare machinery by the door while Tony made his way over to his latest project. When Steve still hadn’t spoken, Tony looked over to find Steve watching him like Tony was a puzzle for him to figure out. It made Tony shiver a little. 

“You know, don’t you?” 

Tony blinked. “Know what?” he asked, smiling sweetly back at him. 

Steve half laughed and half groaned, sinking into one of the couches and covering his face with his hand. He squinted over at Tony, wry smile in place. “How long?” 

“How long what?” Tony asked, unable to resist teasing Steve when he was getting that adorable, half-embarrassed response. “Oh, how long have I known that you’ve been the menace trolling the entire tower?” He shrugged. “You know, not long. Just a few… months.”

Steve groaned again, flopping back against the couch with a sigh. “It was the paperwork, wasn’t?” 

Tony couldn’t help laughing. “Form BB-107, Rogers? Really? You’re not exactly subtle.” 

Steve was laughing too. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Tony shrugged, feeling suddenly flustered, and turned back to the table, bringing up holograms and avoiding Steve’s eye. “Well, you know. It was kind of fun knowing something that no one else had picked up on. And I don’t know. it brightened up my day, sometimes, watching you mess with people. And, uh… It seemed to make you happy, so…” He trailed off awkwardly. 

There was silence for a long minute, Steve not saying anything at all, and Tony could only take it for so long. He chanced a glance back over at Steve to find him watching him with a speculative look, a slow smile crossing his lips. 

“You didn’t say anything because it made me happy?” he asked quietly. 

“Well sure, when you say it like that I sound creepy,” Tony grumbled. 

“No,” Steve said quickly. “No, not creepy. Not creepy at all.” He got up, moving toward him until he was leaning against the table beside Tony, elbows and forearms touching. “That’s… Really nice, actually. Thank you.” 

Tony snorted at that, trying not to smile at the table. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Steve. I know how rough it was for you, with the whole ice capades interlude.” He looked back up at Steve with a wink. “I hereby give you permission to do whatever you need to to make yourself happy.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that, but he looked pleased at the same time, and, feeling pretty pleased himself, Tony turned back to his work again, Steve a steady, reassuring presence at his side. 

“I, uh…” 

Steve sounded hesitant, and Tony looked over at him, finding Steve chewing nervously at his lower lip but with a determined look on his face. 

“I noticed you looking at me sometimes,” Steve admitted. “I thought…” 

“Thought what?” Tony’s eyes caught Steve’s, the two of them staring at each other for a minute too long before Steve shook his head, blowing out a soft breath. 

“God, tell me if I’m reading this wrong,”he breathed, and before Tony could say anything else, Steve’s big hand was curling around the back of his neck. Tony blinked at him, shocked silent, but when Steve leaned in, Tony didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them. It was probably a little too fast, considering the way their lips bumped together, but Steve just made a surprised, happy sound and then they were kissing, and it was even better than Tony had imagined kissing Steve would be. He couldn’t stop his hands from sliding around his back, digging into thick muscles as Steve’s grip tightened on his neck. 

“Fuck,” Tony breathed when they broke apart for air. He pressed his forehead to Steve’s shoulder, body feeling weak and giddy. “Definitely not reading that wrong, Steve, oh my god.” 

Steve laughed, sounding as giddy as Tony felt. His thumb was rubbing distractingly at the back of Tony’s neck. “Good,” he said, voice just a little rough. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Tony grinned, absurdly pleased at that, and lifted his head to meet Steve’s gaze again. He traced his finger along Steve’s lower lip, shivering when Steve’s tongue flicked out against the pad. “Does this mean you want to go out with me?”

He earned an eyeroll with that, but Steve was grinning widely, no trace of exasperation. “Tony, I’ve been daydreaming about going out with your ages. Yes, I definitely want to go out with you.” 

Tony laughed, delighted, and then Steve was kissing him again, tightening his grip on Tony to pull him in close until he was practically sitting in Steve’s lap. Tony wasn’t complaining in the slightest; Steve was an incredible kisser, and being as close as possible sounded like a very good thing - especially with Steve’s fingers pressing bruises into his skin. 

They kissed until they both had to breathe again and pulled back, panting slightly. Steve ginned at him, flicking teasingly at one of the curls falling over Tony’s forehead. “Hi Shellhead,” he said softly, and Tony beamed back at him. 

“Hey yourself, Winghead,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s lip. He sighed softly. “You know, the one downside here… We’re going have to tell the rest  of the team, and they will be absolutely impossible to live with.” 

Steve chucked ruefully, and then stopped just as abruptly, a glint that Tony recognized all to well coming into his eyes. “I mean, we could tell the rest of the team…”

He trailed off and Tony found himself grinning because God, he loved this giant, childish troll. “Or…?”

Steve beamed at him, trailing his fingers up and down Tony’s spine. “How do you feel about becoming my partner in crime?” 

[firebunnylover]

Hannah Watches LOSH - Timber Wolf

So I started to make gifs for the reviews because I found I was taking way to many screenshots in particular scenes in this episode. If anyone knows a good reference/guide on making gifs of parts of an episode with just one program that don’t stutter in tumblr and stay the same duration as the source, and the recomended sizes for images in text posts and, lemme know. I’m probably going to start assembling all images because i love them all and i hate how text posts kill the quality.

And this time I’m including the keep reading option.

Timber Wolf

The way the episodes starts off before the theme is on Rawl, focusing on Dr. Londo, and old man, with his robots, pursuing a werewolf like creature.

From an artistic standpoint, I found the planet’s environment very Halloween like. But here, writing wise, we get a dark glimpse of the show.

After the show’s theme, we cut to what is essentially a space version of the sea cucumber. Lorsax. Not sure how it’s spelled. We’ll just call it Space-Cucumber.

Lightning Lad is still the proud jock we encountered in the previous episode, as he cuts off Superman in mid question.

However, karma kicks in early by proving that Space-Cucumber is immune to lightning, and having a tentacle snag him.

The distress message, Dr. Londo does look panicked and anxious. Easy to believe he is in need if you’ve haven’t already seen this episode.

Oh Saturn Girl named Space-Cucumber Globby. Okay.

And it looks like Superman is coming out of his shell. He snarks back at Lightning Lad the very words he was told earlier playfully. That’s a good sign.

Garth u loser.

Creeping Cat B5.

And we get him insisting that Bouncing Boy used the system that he made to assist him, which results in one of my favorite funny moments.

That results in the ship hyper blasting off. And crashing onto the planet.

While we get our first hint at the Saturn Girl/Lightning Lad ship.

Upon landing, Bouncing Boy and Brainy are holding animosity towards each other judging by the facial expressions.

Lightning Lad seems to have the unquestioned position as the leader given Cosmic Boy isn’t in the picture. Makes sense given he’s a founder, but I think Saturn Girl is better.

Can’t help but smile at the confusion of Superman’s 21st century slang.

When Dr. Londo tells them about the Creature, he says it destroyed everything, including his team. I honestly can’t tell if he’s making that up or not, regarding if he had a team in the first place. More of that in the overall review in the end.

Ok, clearly the picture was several years old, given the hair was still dark for Londo.

Upon meeting Dr. Londo, Saturn Girl seems to be the hesitant one of the group, while the rest bought what he said. Obviously her powers give her an edge on the situation, but she is more observant than the others.

Thus return to more fighting B5 and BB. B5 is a stickler for order and doing things perfectly as much as possible, insisting that since he has a 12th level intelligence he doesn’t need to improvise, while BB is a “wing it” guy, as he will improvise in some way or another. But Brainy is also bad at picking up on social stuff, like Bouncing Boy being upset with him, who proceeds to break a rule Londo had set.

With the other three, Lightning Lad starts to tease Saturn Girl who snaps at him, catching him and Superman by surprise.

When she’s expressing her concern on what’s going on, they get ambushed by robots. When Saturn Girl gets separated from the boys, we see her powers can effect things physically, including robots. This knocks her out, but she is saved, but kidnapped, by the creature we saw in the beginning.

Bouncing Boy enters a restricted area, and is immediately hunted down by robots with guns. Nice welcome.

We then switch back to Saturn Girl, who is in a cave with the creature, groggy from her thought blast. We see her scared, telling, or begging rather, the creature not to eat her.

The creature is a good puppy.

Puppy is doing his best to tell you Saturn Girl.

“Why do I need permission? It’s a monster.”

OW

HIS FACE

DON’T DO THIS TO ME OW

And then Lightning Lad and Superman swoop in, being two well-intentioned dummies. Knocking Saturn Girl out in the process.

PUPPY WAS TRYING TO CHECK ON HER NO SUPERMAN DON’T TOSS HIM

Karma has a stalactite chunk land on Lightning Lad, but he somehow survives??

And after getting his shirt torn and scratched, he then zaps Superman on accident. Which he apologizes for.

However, Superman had to hold Lightning Lad back after puppy is knocked out, although he seems upset about that.

We return to Brainy, who insists he’s not worried about Bouncing Boy… until he finds him held hostage by robots, and proceeds to save him instantly. Saying he improvised.

Well gentlemen, I don’t think this is what you were expecting in his labs, judging by your expressions.

You two are trouble.

Where did they get that net? Did Londo give them it?

LIGHTNING LAD YOU MEANIE TO THE PUPPY. I HOPE SATURN GIRL GAVE YOU AN EARFUL AFTER THE MISSION

The power of improvising. Works well in college.

NO MAH PUPPY.

SATURN GIRL SASS

She went out of her way to make sure Puppy was comfortable before she proceeded. Saturn Girl for queen of the legion please. And Queen of staring down twits.

Okay, time to address one question we all have: WHERE THE HELL DID THOSE BOXERS COME FROM?! I mean I get censorship and that the plot would have been spoiled if Puppy had boxes in full monster form, but COME ONE.

Brainy, don’t poke the Puppy. PET the Puppy.

Dr. Londo. With evil robots and can’t-determine-good-or-bad creatures. An absolutely abusive parent.

Saturn Girl being the friend to help keep Brin from snapping and loosing control. What a good person.

Then this declaration Brin makes.

So. Good. Holding Dr. Londo accountable for the abuse and determined to get away from his abusive parent.

“Take them all.” Dr. Londo, do you really think the rest of the Legion will just forget about them?

And we get some more jelly Lightning Lad. Garth u loser.

FEAR THE GREEN SMART CHILD WITH PERI-COPTER HANDS AND THE ORB OF IMPROVISING.

LIGHTING LAD IS A TSUNDERE. SAY IT WITH ME.

And after Dr. Londo’s animals try to gang up on him but then are scared off, the truly sickening part begins.

Using his own son for research. Against his will. Saying he should have thanked him for making something for battle. The music during this whole part is unsettling, as is the issue. Brin can’t go back to what he was before. The damage that has been done to him, it’s permanent.

Dr. Londo taunts him on how long Brin can maintain control over himself, but Saturn Girl rejects that. Saying that he will have help.

And Dr. Londo? He gets off. Jurisdiction can’t touch him because of where the crime took place.

Brin. He doesn’t get justice. He doesn’t get what he deserves.

To Brin, parents are people who should protect children from harm in the world. But his father didn’t do that. He deliberately harmed him.

Nothing will ever fix that. Ever.

The only thing he can do is destroy what Dr. Londo uses for his projects. And when he’s done.

His final statement to the man who should have protected him.

… Are there a bunch of spare uniforms just lying around? A machine on board that just made the outfit? TELL ME~

Brin expresses fear that Dr. Londo is right, that he will lose control. But this time, Lightning Lad is the one to offer words of comfort. Perhaps he’s seen something similar?

And so, the episode concludes with Brin swearing in as Timber Wolf.

So final thoughts on the episode overall.

OW. THE WRITERS HAVE TAKEN A SPEAR AND JABBED IT THROUGH MY HEART.

Except for a little plothole where they said in the last episode Colossal Boy was on Rawl. Brainy said there wasn’t much else aside from Dr. Londo’s research station. I don’t know how big Rawl is compared to earth, but kinda bothers me this wasn’t addressed. The only explanation I can think of is that his mission took place on the other side of the planet, and/or that the incident was resolved before Brin was transformed. Which leads to two more questions.

How much time did pass between this episode and the last one? And how long had it been since Brin was experimented on?

There has been enough time for Superman to start emerging from his shell clearly.

When I was younger, I didn’t get the significance of this episode. Now I do.

One of the main character has been abused by his father and changed into something he didn’t want any part of. And he doesn’t get justice in the end. Dr. Londo got off.

Let’s look at another infamous abusive Father and his son. Ozai and Zuko. A father who burned his son’s face for standing up in what he believed was right, standing up for others. Zuko still associated Ozai as a father though, as evident by the Freudian slip of “Father Lord”, associating fathers with negative things. But Zuko does have someone for support. Iroh. Who cares so damn much about Zuko it’s literally making me cry while writing this. And Zuko eventually held him accountable. But whether Zuko got justice regarding what his father did is arguable. Ozai got imprisoned, but Zuko still went to see him after the war in the comics. He wasn’t completely freed from him after two years.

Brin, there is no other father figure. No one else for him to lean on automatically during the abuse. But the Legion stepped in. They were going to be his support. They were new, but they were something at least. But he was determined to completely cut Dr. Londo out of his life, and knew fathers shouldn’t be associated with abuse. That’s different from Zuko.

Both are different reactions, but both are understandable.

But hey, Timber Wolf was far luckier than another dog person I know.

Now regarding what Dr. Londo said about Brin destroying his team. Did Dr. Londo kill off his own staff? Did they leave out of their own free will? Or were the staff impassive about what Dr. Londo did to his own son? Because if it’s the latter, there is the chance Brin could have injured/killed them out of anger when he escaped. Hence why Dr. Londo had to get the Legion. The way Brin was, he would have killed him. But if Dr. Londo had killed the staff himself, then he could have set it up to make it look like Brin did it.

Personally, I like the episodes that are on the dark side. I do think cheery episodes are important, but episodes like these? They are important.

Personally, I can’t think of any better way this story could have been carried out.

Characters in this episode:

Superman has clearly started to come out of the shell he was in during the first episode. He has more freedom to be himself. And given just how much my heart was breaking over him the last time, this is good.

Brainiac 5 has more personality this time, other than the gay/bi (going of the comics here; I probably should have addressed he’s canonically bi last time, I apologize, I was very hyped), and little evidence of the crush. This time, we see him as someone who tries to maintain order, and stick to the system as much as possible. But in the end, he is capable of change. We also see he’s not aware of certain social ques.

Bouncing Boy: We see he’s far more relaxed than Brainy, preferring to do things as they come along, and to improvise. He doesn’t let himself get trampled on. Is a happy version of a college student.

Lightning Lad you brat. I love him. Karma has got him several times in today’s episode, and he’s a jealous baby who hates being wrong. Garth u loser. But also nice to see him being nice at the end.

I WANT TO PROTECT TIMBER WOLF SO BAD. I WILL GET ALL THE BLANKETS AND WRAP HIM IN THEM AND GET ALL THE GOOD FOODS FOR HIM. HE DOESN’T DESERVE THE SHORT STICK LIVE HAS GIVEN HIM. But I’m so proud he went to join the team that is meant to help others. That’s a good way to go forward. Kind of sad he doesn’t get any speaking dialogue from him before the transformation though. I would like to see what he was like before the experiment happened.

Remember what I said in the last episode, about the villains needing development? Dr. Londo is a well-developed villain that he leaves us with an impact. He’s manipulative and smart enough so that when he does get caught, he doesn’t go to jail. He doesn’t have any remorse for what he did to his son. I would put the guy in a pit with venomous spiders because of what he’s done. And I would have let him get eaten, like Lightning Lad said.

Well, that’s all from me today! Lemme know if you think I forgot to mention anything, feedback is appreciated! Or if the gifs aren’t working...