#an forethought would have been good

[semageon]

I'm not going to pretend like I know anything about Marvel shit much at all, but purely surface level it does seem kinda gauche as hell to name a series prominently featuring a Romani character "Secret Invasion" especially in today's day and age like yikes

[punkcherries]

sonic prime so cool ............

[toytulini]

im willing to believe yellowjackets is a good show but im not sure im willing to forgive it for that title which makes me have to specify "yellowjacket BUG" if i want to see the actual bees

[slippery-minghus]

sometimes i look at things my mom has done... simple tasks.... and i see where the intellectual delays/disability i fought tooth and nail to overcome growing up came from.... 💀

[lackadaisycats]

Hey Tracy! Have you heard about the new Ai called Sora? Apparently it can now create 2D and 3D animations as well as hyper realistic videos. I’ve been getting into animation and trying to improve my art for years since I was 7, but now seeing that anyone can create animation/works in just a mare seconds by typing in a couple words, it’s such a huge slap in the face to people who actually put the time and effort into their works and it’s so discouraging! And it has me worried about what’s going to happen next for artists and many others, as-well. There’s already generated voices, generated works stolen from actual artists, generated music, and now this! It’s just so scary that it’s coming this far. 

Yeah, I've seen it. And yeah, it feels like the universe has taken on a 'fuck you in particular' attitude toward artists the past few years. A lot of damage has already been done, and there are plenty of reasons for concern, but bear in mind that we don't know how this will play out yet. Be astute, be justifiably angry, but don't let despair take over. --------

One would expect that the promo clips that have been dropping lately represent some of the best of the best-looking stuff they've been able to produce. And it's only good-looking on an extremely superficial level. It's still riddled with problems if you spend even a moment observing. And I rather suspect, prior to a whole lot of frustrated iteration, most prompts are still going to get you camera-sickness inducing, wibbly-wobbly nonsense with a side of body horror.

Will the tech ultimately get 'smarter' than that and address the array of typical AI giveaways? Maybe. Probably, even. Does that mean it'll be viable in quite the way it's being marketed, more or less as a human-replacer? Well…

A lot of this is hype, and hype is meant to drive up the perceived value of the tech. Executives will rush to be early adopters without a lot of due diligence or forethought because grabbing it first like a dazzled chimp and holding up like a prize ape-rock makes them look like bleeding-edge tech geniuses in their particular ecosystem. They do this because, in turn, that perceived value may make their company profile and valuations go up too, which makes shareholders short-term happy (the only kind of happy they know). The problem is how much actual functional value will it have? And how long does it last? Much of it is the same routine we were seeing with blockchain a few years ago: number go up. Number go up always! Unrealistic, unsustainable forever-growth must be guaranteed in this economic clime. If you can lay off all of your people and replace them with AI, number goes up big and never stops, right?

I have some doubts. ----------------------

The chips also haven't landed yet with regards to the legality of all of this. Will these adopters ultimately be able to copyright any of this output trained on datasets comprised of stolen work? Can computer-made art even be copyrighted at all? How much of a human touch will be required to make something copyright-able? I don't know yet. Neither do the hype team or the early adopters.

Does that mean the tech will be used but will have to be retrained on the adopter's proprietary data? Yeah, maybe. That'd be a somewhat better outcome, at least. It still means human artists make specific things for the machine to learn from. (Watch out for businesses that use 'ethical' as a buzzword to gloss over how many people they've let go from their jobs, though.)

Will it become industry standard practice to do things this way? Maybe. Will it still require an artist's sensbilities and oversignt to plan and curate and fix the results so that it doesn't come across like pure AI trash? Yeah, I think that's pretty likely.

If it becomes standard practice, will it become samey, and self-referential and ultimately an emblem of doing things the cookie-cutter way instead of enlisting real, human artists? Quite possibly.

If it becomes standard industry practice, will there still be an audience or a demand or a desire for art made by human artists? Yes, almost certainly. With every leap of technology, that has remained the case. ------------------ TL;DR Version:

I'm not saying with any certainty that this AI blitz is a passing fad. I think we're likely to experience a torrential amount of generative art, video, voice, music, programming, and text in the coming years, in fact, and it will probably irrevocably change the layout of the career terrain. But I wouldn't be surprised if it was being overhyped as a business strategy right now. And I don't think the immensity of its volume will ever overcome its inherent emptiness.

What I am certain of is that it will not eliminate the innate human impulse to create. Nor the desire to experience art made by a fellow soul. Keep doing your thing, Anon. It's precious. It's authentic. It will be all the more special because it will have come from you, a human.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Can you do a Remus Lupin and Reader where she gets hurt during quidditch and he helps her around the castle? Thank you so much and I love your writing

A/n: Thank you so much for the request!! I literally dropped everything to do this, oml. I will always priorities Reqs but this was so cute!!

Also, just realized requests weren't set to allow annon automatically?? That has been fixed on my end

Break a Leg Not My Heart

Can't Help Falling in Love Elvis Presley

Remus Lupin x Reader

Wc- 4960

Cw; Use of Y/N, Cussing, negative thoughts, reader is unhinged, reader is unsirius, (Tell me if i missed anything!)

taglist- @otterlockholmes

Everyone knew Remus Lupin could be a bit of a push over. 

Now, that's not to say he wasn't stern and serious when he needed to be, when he knew what was best, or just when Sirius said much of anything that started with ‘Hear me out.’

He was a Prefect, he was known for being a certain quality of student. Studious, always in the library studying with Lily Evans and {Y/N} {L/N}. Wise beyond his years, helping anyone who needed it. He volunteered to help tutor some of the first years with {Y/N} most Sunday evenings. Punctural, made a point to be on time to everything. Well, if he could help it, you did like to sleep in.

Not many people noticed the common theme in his actions. The traits that made up the Lycan were so tightly woven into his friendships, well, more particularly his friendship with you. He never gave up who he was, he never went that far, but it was clear that in the forethought of his, you were in every equation. Sirius certainly noticed.

Sirius would bemoan about it all the time, how you both insisted you were friends, absolutely clueless. He stood by it, however, friends don't look at eachother like you do. Remus insisted you were friends. Best friends.

The feeling was mutual, of course it was. Who doesn't want to spend every second of the day with their platonic soulmate? You would make a point to drag him around with you everywhere you went. You were never shy about it, your words slowly going from questioning to affirmatives. 

“Remus, I am heading to lunch now, come with me?”

“Remus, we are going to the Black Lake, it's hot.”

“Remus, I have Quidditch practice.”

That was another trait of Remus Lupin. He could care less about Quidditch, but not much less. He would complain about going, as he followed you upstairs to your dorm to help bring your gear down. Would try to decipher the ridiculous rules while finding a seat in the stands with Lily and Mary, both coming to support their respective partners.

That's how you got here now, same routine. You were floating above the stands, even as a backup beater you still had to attend every practice. You would complain to James about it, seeing as you only agreed to it as a favor, but he would tease you about it every time. He was lucky some stuff he said was funny. He so rarely was.

You watched Sirius, who was currently the one you were assigned to tag out. It was a lot of time wasted, just floating near your friends and talking when you were sure James didn't notice. Eventually, you turned to Remus in the stands and smiled to see him furrowing his brow at the strange reps James was making the two beaters do. 

“Rem!” You called over to him and lowered down to his eye level, still a good few yards away from them. He looked up at you and lifted an eyebrow. 

“Yeah?”

“Knock knock!”

He looked at you confused before Lily nudged him. “The muggle joke?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her next before they shot up in realization. “Ah! Who's knocking?” He called over and you threw your head back in a laugh as Lily covered her mouth with a snicker. Mary holding Lily's shoulder as Remus looked at you three incredulously. 

“That's the bloody line, right?”

“Who's there?” Lily laughed out, and you began to dry your tears.

“Tank!”

“Tank who?”

“You're welc-” Before you could even finish the line there was a loud thud and your head jerked forward. You were confused for a moment, smile slowly falling as you looked at the three.

Everything was slowing down, and no matter how hard you squinted, your vision continued to blur. Suddenly, and gradually, hot burning pain rushed threw the back of your head. It was so jarring you teared up, and you could faintly hear a bunch of voices, but you couldn't make out what they said. Slowly, your grip on your broom lessened. 

Warm drops of what you could only assume was your own ichor dropped down your face. Then, your vision started to flash. You were far too loopy to panic, images of you on your broom slipped into a slideshow of you falling, that ended right before you hit the ground.

~~~

“She'll need to rest for the next two days for it to heal, her head is fine but her leg will need some getting used to. Two days in a cast should do her fine.”

Madam Pomfrey’s voice filled the room and you stirred with a whine. Eyes fluttering open and blinded by the lights above. 

“Ugh.. my head…” You groaned, bringing your wrist to your throbbing temple. You fluttered open your eyes and looked around you, seeing James pacing the room and Sirius in front him, while Remus seemed to be shouting at him. Your ears began to ring as your blood rushed, so you couldn't hear him, but you could see the vain in his neck bulging out at his irritation. His tanned face a deep red, and Sirius looked apologetic, just taking the verbal battering.

There was a hand on your shoulder and you turned to see Lily and Mary sitting on the chairs beside you, Peter was behind them smiling softly. “Hey,” You couldn't hear him, but you could see his lips moving. You frowned as the words became more elaborate so you couldn't quite track them.

You looked around at your friends' concerned faces. Lily looked past you and you turned, seeing Remus was kneeling by your bed and saying something you couldn't hear. You huffed and rubbed your temple, closing your eyes. The ringing slowly stopped, but the sounds of the room never returned. You opened your eyes and Remus was looking at you, filled with concern. “Starlight?”

That was a mouth shape you recognized. You reached out to touch his hand and squeeze it, blinking a bit before you spoke. “I can't hear a damned thing. But did you get my joke?” 

You watched as Remus seemed to go through the five stages of grief, before he settled on giving you the most unamused, annoyed, dead inside look you had ever witnessed. That made you smile. Well, smirk, mischievously. “That joke is literal gold, you just don't know talent.”

This time, Remus stood up and walked over to madam Pomfrey and after a small exchange she walked off. You looked around the room idly, trying to pretend you weren't anxious, patting your palms against your blanket covered legs. You could see your friends talking, but you couldn't hear a thing. Your nerves were on end. They looked worried, but you tried your best to keep calm and collected. You knew that if you began to worry, show even a bit of panic or upset, everyone else would too. What was the point anyway? Panicking wouldn't fix your hearing.

At least you don't think so-

Eventually, a hand rested on your shoulder. It was comforting and large, your right hand instinctively crossed your body to rest on it. You turned and smiled up at Remus. He held out a parchment to you and it had large chicken scratch on it. You always found how messy his handwriting was hilarious. He thinks faster than he writes.

‘You broke your leg. Pomfrey says it has to stay in a cast for a day or two, as for your hearing, she says it's a trauma response. Your body will return it when it's ready.’

You scoffed and looked at your hands with an offended bravado. “Who says they get to pick when my hearing goes? No appreciation! I keep you alive, you dumb thing!”

You didn't notice how Remus laughed at how ridiculous you were being. He always admired how easily you could brush stuff so big off. Like when you found out about his condition.

“Oh damn. That's.. so not the bee’s knees.’

Not the bee's knees. He had to have Lily explain that to him. Who in their right mind says that? To their friend in the hospital wing after confessing one of his most hated parts of himself?

He didn't know if he hated or loved you in that moment.

It grew on him, even if he denied it. You were just so damn strange.

“Darn, I guess no classes, hm?” You gave a faux sigh of disappointment. You turned to see Remus say something to Madam before turning back to you, smiling and waving his hand the quill began to write.

‘She says I can monitor you for classes, you should be fine.’

You gave him the dirtiest look you could muster.

“Hey, Rem, so you actually suck a lot.”

~~~

Remus had insisted on walking you back to the Gryffindor commons, carrying your equipment the whole way. You had to use a cane for the time being, so the second you tried to pick up the heavy bag you about gave Remus a heart attack.

Sirius, still pouting even after you accepted his millionth apology, coasted behind you both. You really wish you knew what Remus had said to him. 

When you got to your dorm Remus set your things down and set your bed up with a prop for your leg. You continued to complain about the special treatment as he nagged you for your messy side of the dorm while he was at it. You had to admit, Remus was incredibly sweet. It made your heart clench a bit at how much he seemed to care about your current state. 

You sat on your bed, taking off your robe and letting it fall behind you. Watching Remus rant on, for once, a little sad you couldn't hear his lecture. He seemed so determined to make sure you were comfortable.

Little did you know, to Remus, this was the perfect opportunity to return your kindness. To repay you for all the nights you spent with him in the infirmary, the forgiveness and patience you extended to him during the days up to the full moon, and the doting you gave him after. Not to mention, it felt a bit domestic. He would process his guilt over it later, indulging up such a thought with you unaware. 

Eventually, your roommates got annoyed with his rambling. Marlene threw a pillow at him and she grabbed you from behind making you almost scream in surprise. 

She said something to Remus that made him look away bashfully, and he looked at you, mouthing a goodnight that you returned.

~~~

Remus was at your door early in the morning, which gave you a right scare. He offered you his hand and you looked at it before tilting your head at him curiously he mouthed something and you'd don't quite understand, slowly setting your hand in his extended one.

He gave several different expressions in the matter of a second, before he threw his head back in a laugh. Usually, you'd be embarrassed, but you ended up laughing along with him. He looked happy and you knew Remus would never make fun of you out of malice.

He calmed his breathing and lowered your hand back to your cane, before reaching over this time to take your books and make, your mouth opening and a low, “Ooooohhh,” left you. He laughed at that too.

When you made it to breakfast you were talking animatedly and Remus was listening thoughtfully. He would occasionally make a nod or shake his head at some things you said, not able to face you with how your gaze was locked on him to gather all his micro expressions. He had set himself up for disaster.

Once you sat at the table and greeted everyone, you hardly paid attention to Remus. You focused mostly on your food. 

You loved being around your friends, you did, but not being able to hear them was so isolating. You could see Remus talking to James, and by the look on his face, it was likely about something they had done they most certainly shouldn't have. You could see Lily, also giving James the most incredulous look ever. 

Mary and Marlene were talking and glancing at the Hufflepuff table, but you couldn't gather a thing otherwise. Sirius was debating something with Peter who you could only describe as distressed. Some interesting hand movements later and a slap from Marlene, you could assume it was something vile. Soon, you gave in and just soaked up their presence. You didn't need to hear them to be a part of the group, just.. the conversation. 

Suddenly, you gave a small yelp as your leg was lifted. Remus, without stoping his verbal battle with James, lifted your ankle and rested your hurt foot on his lap. You melted a bit, it was always the smaller things he did that let you know you had a best friend in him. 

Just a best friend.

Even as his thumb trailed circles on your exposed knee, his forefingers resting on your inner thigh. Yup. Totally best friends.

~~~

Your leg ended up falling asleep like that. You playfully reprimanded him and he just gave you a laugh that you couldn't hear but your mind filled in the blanks. You noticed how proud and confident he seemed to be, taking care of you. It was sweet.

As you walked from class to class he carried your things and was there at your desk the second the bell rang. Then there were potions.

You shared potions with all of the boys and Lily, so you usually sat with Peter so Sirius could bum off of Remus’s hard work, leaving James to swoon while his girlfriend did all the work. You looked to the board and grimaced, wiggenweld. You knew it was a practice instead of theory day, but you were hoping for an easier potion.

To your surprise, Peter was sitting with a pouting Sirius, your usual spot cleared up. Before you could make a remark Remus put his things down and sat where Peter usually did. You found yourself smiling bright. “What the heck Remus?” You teased and sat down, once again, he lifted your leg onto his lap to keep it elevated.

Like a best friend would do.

“Can't leave me be for a half hour, Remmy?” You teased him as he took out his parchment and began to pull aside ingredients you couldn't reach with your stationary leg.

You were distracted storing out the ingredients by order and scribbling down notes on the more vague steps. You didn't get a chance to notice Remus smiling at you, his eyes sparking with new found fondness. “No I can not.” He muttered to no one in particular.

Not noticing himself as Sirius gestured aggressively to you two in aspiration. Lily laughed at his display and James covered his mouth to hide his smile. Seems Remus was finally clued in.

You began to work on the potion as Slughorn dismissed the class to their assignments. You prepped the ingredients and fell into an easy and fluid motion with Remus. You didn't have a clue why you hadn't worked together before, you did everything together anyway, and Sirius could suck it.

Your friends watched as you smiled down at the horklump, rubbing a spoon over it threw a strainer, giving a laugh as it splattered on your face. Remus watched you, smiling softly. He seemed distracted the whole practical exam, but there wasn't a moment he wasn't listening to you. 

Your test ended with a passing grade, that's all you really needed. Still, Remus apologized for being distracted. 

Remus Lupin was a perfectionist in everything he did. He felt that even in his best moments he was seconds away from failing. He improved himself until there was nothing to improve upon. He aced assignments, mentored underclassmen, pulled off some of the most outrageous pranks in Hogwarts history, he even turned down the head boy position for James, everything he had done in the last seven years felt unsatisfactory. Apathy wasn't a foreign concept to him.

Neither was pity. Those two things were handed out to him in the eyes of everyone he'd ever met. No matter how far Remus came, disappointment was still holding him by his in a silent reminder that nothing would outshine the worst of him. It swallowed him whole most days, his self doubt. So he stayed distracted, chasing the high of praise and approval. 

He was much like Sirius in that regard, but Sirius acted out and Remus did his best to go unnoticed by anyone other than the people closest to him. Unless it was about his achievements.

He wanted to be remarkable and unnoticed, it was the contradiction that was Remus Lupin.

You made him feel those two things, like he was the most important thing in the world, like you couldn't do anything without him. Then, you made him feel like a normal student. Like he was just someone in the herd. He liked that about you.

But having you depend on him, just today, there was something new brimming in his chest. He grappled with the realization that you being dependent on him for a change was more fulfilling than his collective five years of overshadowed achievements.

You seemed him out; when you found him you needed him. Not that it couldn't be anyone else, you chose him. Well, he volunteered, but when you looked up at him with those eyes of yours he knew you had no qualms with it. He felt strong, he felt needed, and he felt like he wasn't the one hurting. 

{Y/N} {L/N} never needed anyone. You made that clear since first year, you were remarkably strange and friendly, you never filtered yourself out for anyone. You were you, that's all you needed to be. You didn't need to be witnessed to live.

But you wanted Remus to witness you.

He was learning that he loved to. To witness you. 

Yet here you were, none the wiser, while Remus realized how far he had fallen for his best friend. And in all honesty;

He wasn't scared.

~~~

Once dinner came around you were reminded just how out of the loop you were without your hearing. You were poking at your meal with your head down, pushing around a bit of your uneaten food. Today had been long, and every break mostly consisted of you trailing after your group and watching them laugh and indulge in each other's presence. 

You knew it wasn't the end of the world, tomorrow morning you would be cut free of your cast and eventually your hearing would come back.

It drove you mad not knowing when though. You knew it wouldn't stay forever, you were self assured in that fact, but knowing the possibility of it being weeks, months, Merlin, even a year? An entire year of not hearing your friends' voices. Dragging Remus down with you.

You didn't notice your friend's concerned look. Eventually, as you stared down at the fork in your hand, a note slid into your peripheral, it was Lily's handwriting, the only person you know to be able to flow her letters so perfectly.

‘Ready?’

You looked up to see people had started packing up. You nodded and began to stand, Remus slipping his hand behind your lower back making you jolt a bit. He flinched away and you immediately cursed, ‘come baaaccck.’

~~~~

Your thoughts followed you to the common room. Before you could escape your friends, go allow yourself to mope, everyone insisted on drinking and talking. 

You didn't want to. You really didn't. Remus was staying behind, however, and you know how much he hated when you'd leave him to be the only responsible drinker. Not that he had to worry too much, Mary always stayed sober to reel in Marlene.

You let yourself believe he just wanted to spend time with you. 

So here you were, sitting on the couch, leaning you back against the arm rest and staring at the group as they talked. Your legs were resting over Remus’s, his lithe fingers rubbing up and down your exposed knee to the bottom of your skirt. Now, this was something Remus would never do, but you didn't even have time to enjoy the satisfying moment of slight intimacy, still too in the dumps.

Your frown deepened as you watched people get up to dance around you. Lily had put a song on the record, you only knew it to be ‘Love Grow(where my Rosemary goes)’ by Edison Lighthouse, because of the album cover she brandished to James with a little wiggle of her eyebrows. One of your favorites. 

At this point, your arms were crossed in a pout as you watched everyone dance but you and Remus. You blinked away those thoughts and turned to Remus. 

“You can go dance, I won't be offended.” You muttered out with a pout. He turned to look at you from the dancing figures. He seemed to come to some conclusion, and tapped your calf. You moved your legs and went back to watching the group before his hand was in your face. You looked up at him confused to see him offering it to you. You carefully took his hand and he lifted you up, leading you on the dance floor. You were wobbly, but he nudged your hurt foot until you arched it up, he took on most of your weight and you leaned into his chest to balance.

He began to sway, you laughed, and he beamed at how happy you seemed. It was ridiculous, you both looked ridiculous, Sirius gave a wolf whistle you couldn't hear and he couldn't give less of a fuck. 

As you got more comfortable he pulled back and began to spin and slide with you. You were a giggling mess and he wrapped his arms around your waist and faced you away from him, making you tilt your head all the way back to see him. He could have died right there. 

As the song faded out, you guys stopped your completely tone deaf moves, and he looked back with a dazzling smile at Lily who put on another song. He was panting, he could see all his friends watching with what seemed to be far too interested looks.

When his eyes went back to you, you were still staring up at him with a bright rush of affection. Somehow, always, Remus knew just what to do. Just what to say. 

The song kicked up and Remus thinned his lips a bit.

‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis Presley. 

He knew he shouldn't. He should fool himself with something so intimate. But you were looking back at him with so much excitement, so much love, who the hell was he to say no?

… Wise men say

Only fools rush in

He nodded to you and you spun to face him again, leg swaying a bit from where you kept it up. You moved to put some space between you, but instead, he wrapped one hand around your lower back and took your other hand. His movements were identical to Marlene with Mary and James with Lily, Sirius even managed to get a girl from one of the many onlookers to dance with him. His being much more professional.

But I can't help falling in love with you

You were confused at first, but you wouldn't say you hated it. It was intimate, as he pulled your chest to his and gave you his smile now. You pressed your tongue to your cheek and smirked at him. He gave you a playful wink as you rolled your eyes.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

He gave you a slow and careful swirl, and when you returned to him, he pulled your head to his chest and rested his chin to your head.

… Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

He gave you a playful dip and you finally laughed, relaxing fully into the oddly familiar feeling. He's held you before, but never so carefully. Like he could loser you at any point if one thumb was misplaced. 

… Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

He suddenly flattened out his hand against yours. You turned to look from where your face was peacefully nuzzled into his chest. You watched as he spread his fingers, and in turn, yours. Before he interlocked them. You bit your bottom lip and looked up at him. He was mouthing some of the lyrics, and you just managed to watch the last verse.

“For I can't help falling in love with you.”

Your eyes widened. Was he.. was he serious? His eyes were staring into yours like he was putting himself on the line with those words. You took a deep breath and held it, as he leaned down towards you as you both slowed to a stop. You stared at his lips, waiting so patiently for his next words.

“I love you, {Y/N}.” 

The words looked so natural on his lips. You didn't know what to say. You knew what he said. You didn't have a doubt in your mind about it. You suddenly moved in and kissed him, eyes closed before you pulled away. It was quick, it was a bit hard. His lips were chapped and his eyes were still on yours when you opened them. 

He looked stunned, and you couldn't hear the loud, “Finally!” From Sirius.

Nor could you hear Lily’s delighted gasp when he moved in and kissed you again. His hands left your side and hand, grabbing your cheeks. His fingers loosen when you meet him halfway, moving down to your neck and resting his thumbs on your cheeks.

You broke the kiss again, forgetting how to breathe. His lips followed yours before his eyes fluttered but stayed closed. You looked at him in pure shock. What do you do now? What do you say? Did it matter?

Suddenly his face scrunched up and you narrowed your eyes a bit.

“Ow ow ow ow..” Remus muttered and you flinched back when you read his lips. You had rested your casted foot against his toes. Wincing and apologizing like crazy, you moved too quickly and the weight shift caused you to fall back. He quickly caught you in a very deep dip. One hand around your neck and the other around your lower back. Your arms wrapped around his neck and everything was slow.

What a lovely cliche. 

It got even better, as he lifted you closer and kissed you again. His hand from your neck sliding down to help keep your casted leg bent to his hip. 

It was perfect.

~~~ Bonus Scene ~~~

You woke up to the sound of Marlene and Lily talking idly in your dorm room. A few days after the dancing and you and Remus had slipped from friends to more in such a simple and seamless mesh. 

A mesh of messy kisses and rushed ‘I love you’s in the hall. Late night rendezvous in the common room grossing out your friends with all the stolen kisses and messy cuddles where limbs weren't easily identifiable in the dark.

You smiled softly, unable to tame how your heart clenched and a goofy smile took your lips. Then it hit you. You could hear.

You shot your head up and began tos scramble for Remus’s jumper he left over last night. Marlene and Lily snapping over to look at you but not getting a word in before you were dashing out of the room in just your pajama pants and his sweater. 

You don't know how quickly you were running until you made it to his dorm. Your healed leg throbbing from lack of use but you couldn't care less. You slammed your way into the prefect dorms, Remus long since given you the password.

You ignored fussy prefects and walked right up to Remus’s dorm. You knocked in a rush, and the door opened to show James. You'd didn't even care to ask him why he wasn't in the Head Boy dorms, just shoving past him to hurry into the room. 

Sirius looked up from a lounge chair in the corner and smirked when he saw you, opening his mouth to make a smart remark before you interrupted him. 

“Remus?”

“Starlight?” Remus called out from the closet, stepping out in pajama pants as well, no short, and a towel in his messy hair. He couldn't help but smile at your rosey cheeked winded gasps, despite his confusion. “What are you-”

“Say it.” You demanded quickly and closed the gap between them. He looked at you confused before it suddenly hit him that you had responded and reacted to his words. You could hear him.

He let the towel fall from his hair to his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close. “Say what?”

“You love me.” You commanded with puffy flustered cheeks. Suddenly so much less confident now that you faced him. He laughed and moved his hands to your cheeks.

“You came running all the way here for that?”

“Remus, I've been waiting years.”

“I love you, {Y/N}.” He whispered and pulled you into a kiss. You smiled and gave a sigh of bliss into it. This time, you were able to hear Sirius wolf whistle behind you.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Third In Line

Steven Grant x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 10: Anal

Summary: Steven's a little frustrated at being third.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing!

Warnings: kissing, swearing, a bit fo showing off, anal(afab! receiving), please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1123

It was petty really. Steven knew it was.

But he just couldn’t help himself, couldn’t let go of it, couldn’t stop the thought from burrowing in and festering. 

It would jump to the forefront of his mind every now and then, dancing disgustingly for his attention. He tried not to let it bother him. He really did. 

Because it was petty. Childish. Trivial. Insignificant. 

And still it caught on his mind like a constant hangnail. 

Marc had been the first to kiss you, taste you, feel the pleasure of your mouth. That was fine.

Jake had been the first to sleep with you, to wake up in the morning with you naked in his arms. That was fine too.

Steven had been the first to meet you. He tried to console himself with that, knew it was so stupid to even care about who did what first and when. Especially when you kissed him and held him and loved him just as much.

But still. It got under his skin. 

He had let it slip by accident. Mainly grumbling to himself as he moved some of Marc’s fantasy baseball notes out of his way. He had his own desk to leave his stuff on. And you’d heard, just caught the tail end. 

His face had burned with enough intensity when you’d questioned him that for a not so brief moment, he seriously considered just opening the lid of Gus’s tank and shoving his head in there. 

It would have certainly changed the direction of the conversation at least. 

Instead, however, he simply repeated his mumbles as quickly and quietly as he could while looking at his hands. It was silly. It was stupid. He shouldn’t be jealous. You’d think he was an idiot-

You smiled mischievously. “Well, there is something I haven’t done with either of them that we could do?” 

Steven’s gulp had been audible. 

And that’s how it had started.

You hadn’t done anal before. 

It had taken a little bit of forethought and planning, using toys even before Steven was able to get the smallest of his thick fingers inside of you. Working over a few weeks until he was satisfied that he wouldn’t hurt you. (You’d been more than willing for him to try in half the time.) 

But now that he was inside you, all his previous thoughts and worries had turned into liquid mush. 

You were face down, ass up on the bed, clutching one pillow to your chest while two others propped up your hips. 

Steven groaned, biting his teeth together to try to keep a hold on himself. “You okay, love?” His voice was strained, breaking at the end. 

You nod, wiggling a little as he bottoms out. “Yes.” 

He huffs through his nose as you move, a small whispered “fuck,” slipping passed his lips.

“Does it feel okay?” 

“It feels bloody marvellous, I,” he groans again, cutting himself off as he pulls out a fraction and then slides back in. “How does it feel for you?” 

“Full,” you moan softly as he moves. It’s a different sensation, heavy in the base of your spine. But his cock seems to push from the inside, rubbing against your vaginal wall and pressing your hips into the pillow. 

With every pull and push your clit draaags against the cotton, twisting the knot of pleasure tighter and tighter in your stomach. 

“But good.” You moan and Steven gulps. 

He keeps his hands on your hips, rocking gently, moving out slightly further with each thrust. 

He’d buried his face between your legs for what felt like hours beforehand, teasing and teasing until you were right on the edge and practically begging him, with tears in your eyes, to let you come. 

Not that he did. But you’d both agreed on that before you’d started.

Slick gushed from your core, mixing with the copious amounts of lube Steven had used. It trickled down and pooled onto the pillow below you. 

You moan, you’re so highly strung, so close to coming it is almost painful. 

“Steven, please.” 

He picks up his pace slightly. Not enough. “I don’t want to hurt you, love.” He tries to keep his voice even, calm, normal. But he’s so close to losing control and rutting into you like a wild animal. 

You arch your back, rocking to meet his thrusts a little harder.

“Fuck.” He swallows, his fingers digging into your skin. “You feel so, so good. I…” He bites his lip as you squeeze around him. “Tha-thank you for letting me.” His voice raises at the end, his eyes half closed as he starts to let his body overpower his mind. 

You moan, practically drowning in pleasure as he thrusts, still so carefully, but firmer this time. Your clit throbs as it rubs deliciously on the pillow, the sensations rupturing through you as pleasure assaults you from both sides. 

“I’m gonna,” you manage to sob, “Steven, you can let them see.”

He groans, leaning forward a fraction and having to brace one hand on the mattress as he bucks faster, nearing his peak. “Fuck, thank you, thank you,” he kisses your shoulder, nipping lightly at your neck. 

Swears fall out of your mouth, punched from your lips with every thrust. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, burning as liquid heat spreads higher and higher. 

Steven manages to pull at the back of his mind, hooking into their shared space just enough to raise Marc and Jake’s attention. 

‘What’s wrong?’ ‘You okay?’

It takes them a moment to catch up. 

‘Fuck.’ Jake’s voice echoes close to Steven’s ear as Marc groans.

“Steven,” You whine, your muscles tensing, rocking back onto his throbbing cock with all the strength you have. “Please!”

‘Fuck.’ ‘Shit.’

A small smile tugs at Steven’s lips, he lets them watch, lets them feel the ghost of sensation. And then your sharp cry overtakes any other thought, you squeeze around him, so tight he is blinded by it. 

Pleasure snaps through you, pulling you down and swallowing you whole. You come hard, moaning his name until your throat is hoarse and your release is soaking into the pillowcase. 

Steven groans, snaps his hips once before he follows and comes into the condom with a long drawn-out sigh. 

His muscles turn to jelly, and he eases himself out of you and then lays down by your side. 

Steven kisses your cheek, wrapping his arms around you as you nuzzle close and kiss him back.

‘You two can piss off now.’ 

‘Steven-’ ‘Fucking rude-’ ‘You’re a little shit, you know that?’ ‘Did this on purpose-’ ‘Showing off-’ ‘I want to-’ 

But then both politely fade back when you look up and stroke his face, smiling.

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[paper-mario-wiki]

Shangri-La Frontier mid-season review

This is by far the best fake video game I've ever seen written in fiction.

Most MMO-centric isekai stories have trouble with providing accurate and realistic depictions of the complexities and minutia that give MMOs the allure they have. I've seen so much handwavey bullshit tacked onto fake-games that introduce unrealistically overlooked mechanics for reasons like giving the protag immense power just because they're the protag and the story is about them. A good example of this is another MMO Isekai airing this season, "A Playthrough of a Certain Dude's VRMMO Life", wherein the main character becomes extremely rich, powerful, and famous by episode 2 because he stumbled into a stealth archer playstyle, a build which apparently no human in that universe had ever conceived of before, and then making a fortune by selling basic potions to everyone after NPCs stopped selling them (another thing he was uniquely able to do because not a single other player had the forethought to spec into alchemy). These lesser, dime-a-dozen isekai add up to be boring fantasy strories with gaming elements clumsily put in so that the author can demonstrate how powerful the world's inhabitants are by showing their stat allocation screen instead of, say, explaining anything about what they do that's so uniquely powerful and how they figured it out. Ya know, stuff you'd hope to hear about from any competent story.

Shangri-La Frontier is a breath of fresh air for anyone who, like me, is sick of authors ignoring the things that actually make video games compelling in service of creating a stock-standard narratives in fantasy worlds because it allows them to get away with bullshit. I've always found it very convenient that many isekai narratives indulge in things like chattel slavery, because it's societally normal enough for the protag to purchase a beautiful, vulnerable girl to add to his harem (dont worry, she is always inexplicably in love with him no matter what because he's SUCH a kind master). And it never really seems to go anywhere. Because the Video Game Isekai, while an interesting premise in theory, is more often than not used exclusively as a means to simplify the structure of a world's power scaling to abide by an arbitrary set of omnipresent universal rules (e.g. what people who have never cared to look into game development think of video games). This anime, by comparison, is VERY clearly authored by someone who plays a LOT of games.

Every piece of logic used to drive the plot forward, so far, is congruent to a real-world example of video game conventions, and I'm not just talking about levelling up and selling monster parts. Story elements that I've rarely (if ever) seen explored in other isekai are ever-present and genuinely clever and amusingly introduced. My favorite example of this so far has been the way the protagonist has been able to go head to head with so many overlevelled foes in the first 9 episodes. The story of course makes note of how good of a gamer Sanraku (our hero) is, but much like in real life games, being super duper good at dodging attacks doesn't really make up for a 70 level gap in items and learned skills. For that reason, he gets his ass whooped more often than he actually outsmarts others (so far he hasn't beaten a single player in pvp). So how is he getting out of these situations without dying so frequently? Simple: he got access to a later area too early relative to his level (sequence break) and got access to a high level follower NPC that's been carrying him. This is something he acknowledges directly several times, specifically using words like "Emul has been hard-carrying me for a while." This, to me, is extraordinarily meaningful. That's something you can exploit in Skyrim, man. That's REALISTIC CHEESE STRATS. The excitement and wonder I find in this show doesn't come from watching the protag do something unexpected, but by watching him do something that I would think to do.

This knowledge the author has demonstrated regarding modern gaming culture extends further into the actual realistic nature of game design and community. The story exists in a reality where full-dive VRMMOs are the be-all-end-all of gaming, and given the prohibitively expensive nature of developing and designing expansive, immersive worlds, most games are pretty shit. It's been hinted at so far that this is due to a monopolistic megacorp which is one of the only entities rich and powerful enough to make a good game (the game in question being the one that shares the title of the anime), but so far the strife of the characters have been pretty centralized to the happenings of the game world and its politics. By the way, lets talk about the game world's player base politics, which I'm also quite pleased with. It exists in the form of guilds and clans who struggle for power not by participating in seemingly random pvp with other powerful players to see who is the most epic and badass warrior (again, like many contemporary isekai typically opt for), but by gaining actual realistic support from a fictional playerbase with realistic desires and playstyles. Some guilds are interested in lore, some gather for alliance and boss raids, some for things like animal husbandry, and (naturally) at least one is dedicated to trolling and PKing. Each of these factions, through the very little that we've seen of them so far, communicate on forums and only know as much as is reasonable for them to know. The only reason they give a shit about the protagonist at all is because he gained access to a high-level unique scenario quest that they want information on how to access, and the only reason word of that got out in the first place was because someone posted a screenshot of him with a unique NPC onto a forum, asking about it as "where can i find this pet summon, its super cute!" That's real. That's video games, baby.

I like this show a lot so far. I like that it cares about video games, but I also like its writing. I like the main character and how hes less of an ultra badass super cool guy, and more of an earnest challenge-run lets player. Like, a lot of his dialogue straight up sounds strikingly similar to Japanese youtubers. And he's naturally always quick to point out inconsistencies in the game world's logic. I ALSO really like his community of pals from a janky old fighting game, and I ADORE the girl from his school who has a crush on him and also just so happens to be an exceptionally high level player from a top clan, and how she had to spend 9 episodes working up the courage to send him a friend request. I love that so, so much, dude.

I highly recommend this show if you're into a single thing I've mentioned. The animation is great. The world is beautiful. The character design is immaculate. And I'm looking forward to watching it continue.

[whatever-imagines]

“Princess POV Change”

Princess through Logan’s point of view.

Tags: Logan’s basically a U-Haul lesbian and they aren’t even dating. Weird possessiveness. I dunno you let me know.

—-

Logan was a simple woman, she likes to think. She likes solitude, good booze, and pretty women. Not gorgeous, not beautiful; pretty.

She seemed to forget, as she is reminded now, that pretty women make things not so simple sometimes.

You, for example, were causing a whirlwind of emotions.

Xavier hires only super models apparently, you being no exception in Logan’s opinion. You were shorter than her impressive stature, soft in all the right places, face warm and round and you were cute, you were pretty.

And you were avoiding Logan like the plague.

It was probably because she was so rude to you on her first day at the mansion; shouldering past you with a growl of some vague threat as you stood there, just trying to hand in paperwork. The image of you, wide eyed and star stuck, mouth slightly agape, was burnt into the memory of Logan’s mind. You were so painfully pretty; Logan wished she had the forethought to flirt with you rather than try to scare you.

The second time she ran into you, you ran into her. She smelled you and your meek perfume in plenty of time to know you were heading her way; in a rush of some kind with an armful of papers and file folders and a determined look on your face (until you literally ran face first into her chest).

Logan was a sturdy woman, metal skeleton and all, years of taking hits. Your flighty frame didn’t stand a chance and you bounced off her and dropped all your papers.

And she fucked up again.

“Jesus, watch it, squirt!”

“I’m so sorry!” You say it so breathy it almost chokes Logan up. The sound of your voice sounding so vulnerable…

You scatter to collect the paper, and Logan couldn’t help but gravitate towards your hunched over figure. She could practically taste the anxiety wafting off of you. Hear your heart beat faster, smell the sweat gathering at your temple. It was almost as intoxicating and tempting as a good cigar.

“I’ve seen you around…” Logan settles on saying. “You’re Scott’s secretary.”

Logan neglects to mention how insanely jealous of the time you spend with Scott. Hell, she’s been hitting on his girl just to piss him off because of you. The scent of you and Scott mingle too casually for Logan to be comfortable.

Maybe it was mean to call you a secretary. Logan sees all the menial work you do, all the effort you put in to make up for your weak mutation.

Logan sees your eyebrow twitches. “I’m the team’s assistant. I just-“ you gesture to the papers around you. “I handle the boring stuff. Help out when I’m needed. Heal scraped knees and alike.” You state as you rise from the ground.

You’re still unsteady, and in a moment of concern breaking through the laissez-faire attitude, Logan reaches out and steadies you with a warm and heavy hand.

You stiffen instantly, and Logan almost scowls. Were you really so uncomfortable around her?

“Um, Scott really needs these, I should go or else he’ll become more annoying than normal, so-“ you gently shoulder yourself away from Logan’s hand and you scurry down the hall, leaving the fighter behind.

You didn’t see Logan scowl, or how her fingers curl into fists at the mention of Scott. Her lip twitches into a scowl involuntarily.

—-

Logan watches you more after. Your meek behavior, your steadfast loyalty to the school, and your closeness to some extremely powerful mutants intrigues her. It annoyed Logan to an extent, what a goody two shoes you were, how you seem to never be beaten down by what goes on around you.

It also drives her crazy. You were kind to everyone, polite. When Jean clearly irked you, your smile never wavered. Whenever the professor spoke over you you’d snap your mouth close and let him finish. Would you have the same kind of patience for Logan? Would that saint-like mindset extend to her? Her and all her fucked up rage issues? God, if only.

Ororo exits your room, smelling like your perfume and she’s all giddy and it makes Logan’s stomach turn something ugly. And she sees you leave from the window. When you get back to the mansion, for once, your endless gentle optimism seemed to be gone. You looked defeated, tiredly fishing a soda can from the communal fridge where Logan silently followed you.

“You look nice.” Logan says lowly, steadily.

“Oh!” You slam the fridge door shut and quickly snap to attention, turning to face Logan; surprise coloring your face so prettily, she almost missed you thanking her for the compliment.

The Wolverine side of Logan can smell another person on you, cigarette smoke and red wine on your clothes. “Any particular reason for the get up?” It’s a trap, and Logan only feels slightly bad for putting you on the spot. Just slightly, because right now she needed to confirm some suspicions and get some answers. And Logan typically gets what she wants.

You swallow, nervous. “I had a date.” You state firmly yet casually, like you were reiterating the sky was blue.

A low deep hum emits from Logan’s throat, too low for you to probably hear. “Oh? Have fun with him.” The bite in her voice was withheld so firmly there was hardly any, she sounded almost civil. Hopefully.

Your chin juts out, defiant, annoyed. “She was quite boring, actually.”

There was fuzz in Logan’s head after that. Relief of sorts filled her. Still jealous, but relived. You liked woman; she could work with that. Hopefully you liked women like her.

“… don’t like the studious type?” She says after there was a pause for her to respond.

You seem to ponder for a moment before answering. “I like reliable but not dull, if that makes sense.”

It does. Someone to excite you everyday you come home. Logan can do that. Probably. If she doesn’t scare you off, that is.

Words tumble out before the fighter could even process what she wants to convey. “You don’t look at me a lot.” Her sentence was quick and only added tension to the air. “Everyone stares… except you.” Her hand was on your shoulder again, and Logan has to restrain herself from squeezing to get her point across. You don’t look like you could handle a squeeze.

“… it’s rude to stare.” You say after a moment.

You’re… funny. Logan couldn’t help but snort a laugh. “Smart-ass.” She hisses with laughter, before leaving. Logan needs to come up with a plan, now that you gotten her interest so viscerally.

—-

The party exchange shifted something in Logan, now you had a kinship. You both were experiments at some point. When Logan gets her flashes from before 15 years ago, all she feels is fear and pain and weakness. You were already so frail compared to her, how could you have survived anything even similar to what Logan had gone through?

It made Logan want to protect you, especially after your rant. You want a peaceful life, so did Logan. Jean once said you flirt with danger and married safely, Logan could be safe. She could keep you safe, if she tried hard enough.

She keeps you close now. Logan hangs about you to keep a watch on you. Logan curbs Scott’s ego when needed and watches out for you, always quick to greet you with a careful fondness so you feel not threatened by her. She’s putting in the work.

So imagine Logan’s surprise when she hears Ororor whispering to Jean about you trying to date again.

Logan couldn’t have that.

When she sees you next, you’re rushing somewhere again, but Logan stops you. She stops you dead in your tracks, making you look up to her.

She love that you’re shorter than her.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

Logan’s seldom been a nervous person. Worst thing you can do is reject her and she’ll just pine over you for moons to come.

You look flabbergasted. It’s cute. “I’m sorry?”

“Let. Me. Buy. You. A. Drink.” She enunciates, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

You breathe in shock, but not displeasure. “Why?”

Bold as always, Logan lets a rough hand come up and grazes your face.

“I like your face.” She explains, smiling wolfishly. “Let me buy you a drink.”

Your eyes are glossy looking up, face still written with surprise, but when you speak you say, “Okay,” in such a cute shy way, Logan almost kisses you then and there.

She leans closer, relieved, “Thanks, princess.”

[guxciestone]

💋 ❛ ASTEROID MANIAC (228029) ༉‧₊˚ ☆

(through the signs, houses, and aspects)

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🥀♡

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i’ve been wanting to dive into this asteroid for the longest now. i hope you enjoy and are having a good day. if you have an astrology or tarot recommendations, i’m always willing to considering them. thank you so much 🫶🏽❤️

‎ ‎ ‎

ㅤㅤ༉‧₊˚.

‎

Asteroid Maniac (228029) is the asteroid of where and how you seek thrills and excitement in your life; where and how you are willing to take risks without fearing the consequences. On the other hand, this asteroid presents where we exhibit symptoms of wild behavior to an excessive or obsessive extent.

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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ through the signs ♡

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maniac in aries

These individuals desire to seek true adventure and spontaneity in their life. They seem to always be eager to seek challenges that they can overcome or scenarios in which they can test themselves or others. Additionally, these people love taking on different ventures and activities at once as it keeps them expecting what is going to happen next. This placement also strives to be leaders, take control of things, and make things happen. This often makes independent, expressive, goal-oriented, and dynamic people; they have a bold and passionate approach to anything they are urged to do. On the other hand, this placement can cause the excessive need to lead others which can point to control issues or a domineering personality. Not to mention, there is the possibility of restlessness and constantly seeking action. Their need for action and impulsiveness can lead to them going after things without any forethought and not caring for the consequences. These are the types of people to seek or invoke anger or irritation in others just for entertainment.

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maniac in taurus

People with this placement strive for comfort and stability. These individuals may have a strong need to be financially stable and secure. Additionally, they are always willing to bask in the luxuries and pleasures of life. Therefore, they are more than likely investing in long-term plans and set goals to achieve these things which makes them determined, resilient, and strong-headed individuals. They are also methodical and practical in how they acquire these things. However, these individuals desire stability and security so excessively that they are not likely to adjust their plans or projects for anyone or anything. This can make them stubborn or hard to please. Due to their immense desire for comfort and pleasure, there is also the possibility of overindulgence. These are the types of people who would gain tons of weight to the point when they get health problems or become heavily obsessed with money to the point when they’ll do just about anything to get it.

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maniac in gemini

These people long for intellectual conversation, exploring ideas, learning, and communication. They are restless individuals who have a strong desire to be mentally stimulated by themselves and their surroundings, even to the point of starting controversy or debates. These individuals are always willing to try new things and learn throughout, which makes them versatile people. They have a creative and open-minded approach to do anything they strive to do. This shows that people with this placement are usually innovatively talented, often mastering music, fashion, art, writing and much more. These people are often willing to speak their opinion about things and they aren’t afraid to do it even if they know others won’t receive them well. However, these individuals tend to speak before thinking which can cause disagreements amongst their peers. Additionally, they often struggle with sticking to a certain project or idea without completing it. These individuals need to practice patience and reflective quality, especially when it comes to others’ input.

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maniac in cancer

They have a deep and personal approach to doing the things they long to do. These individuals strive for emotional comfort, intimacy, and security. They are loyal individuals who would do anything to make sure the people they love and care about are safe and comfortable. Hence, they are super nurturing and helpful people. They are always willing to help and connect with others. However, there could be this excessive need to protect oneself or their loved ones. This could make someone who is possessive and clingy. Additionally, these people are afraid of change due to prioritizing their security and familiarity; and they struggle with vulnerability at times due to wanting to preserve their personal world.

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maniac in leo

These individuals desire to be a leader and take on their world. People with this placement do not let anybody or anything dictate them to do anything as they strive to live their life through authenticity, confidence, and boldness. There is this urge for self-expression and ultimate creativity. Additionally, these individuals strive for attention, regal treatment, and appreciation from others, especially for their talents and abilities. From a negative sense, there could be a need for excessive amounts of attention that could cause ego issues of where they feel underestimated or underappreciated by others. Some individuals may try to bring other people down to put themselves on a pedestal, or do absurd things to simply get the attention of others. It is important to accept to show who you are without becoming domineering, arrogant, or attention-seeking.

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maniac in virgo

People with this placement approach life with sensibility, analysis, and mindfulness. These individuals strive for order and structure. They desire to find productive solutions to problems in their life; additionally, they focus on efficiency of things and pay attention to detail. These people are hardworking and disciplined individuals who are always willing to improve themselves and help others. This placement is more than likely to create people who are idealists in their pursuits. However, there could be a tendency to be overly critical of oneself and others, becoming perfectionists. Sometimes these individuals may even be controlling and expecting anything and everything to go their way.

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maniac in libra

These people approach life with calmness, objectivity, and diplomacy. They strongly seek pleasure, peace, justice and balance in their life. Most notably, they desire true connection and relationships with others. These individuals do not mind seeing both sides of the argument and submitting to anyone’s opinions. However, this could cause them to struggle with confronting conflict and decisions or standing up for themselves. These folk also strive to be liked and taken well by others, so they would probably do almost anything to make sure it is that way. This shows that they can lean towards the tendency of being two-faced, fake, or people-pleasing in efforts to get everyone on their side. People tend to not realize that these individuals can be lowkey manipulative if the situation calls for it, especially when they want their image to be perfect and unscathed. They are very intelligent individuals who can adjust things to the way they like it; for instance in drama, fights, and social situations.

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maniac in scorpio

They have a deep, intense, calculated, and introspective way in how they approach their life circumstances. Firstly, these individuals strive for intimacy and confidential elements in their interpersonal relationships and affairs. They desire to get to know themselves and they care about them to a huge degree. This can point to them having a tendency of being secretive and contriving. They want to know everything and anything about someone for the sake of trust and benefiting from it. Additionally, these people long for power and control. Even if it comes to the point where they have to do conniving things to get it, which could give them the tendency of being manipulative and deceptive. On a calmer note, these individuals are not afraid at all to explore the deeper and taboo sides of time, and they desire to. It is important for the people with this placement to respect the boundaries–especially the spiritual boundaries–of others.

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maniac in sagittarius

These individuals tend to have a high-spirited, jovial, and philosophical approach to their life. These people strive to learn, experience, and enjoy the present. They could have a huge love for traveling, exploring different cultures and various topics, and having fun while doing so. These folk are always searching for the next big thing that'll make them feel that spark for living. Not to mention, they love socializing, making friends, and getting to know people as well. However, these individuals can be impulsive because they tend to not have any forethought when they do anything because of their rush to experience what is among their horizons. It is important for these people to not pursue things without any awareness of the consequences. These folk can also be a bit brash and indifferent to other people and their boundaries and feelings. It is crucial that these individuals accept responsibility and the feelings/thoughts of others. This is one of the placements who are more than likely to develop addictions or overindulgent practices.

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maniac in capricorn

People with this placement go after their projects and ideas with a sense of discipline, authority, and maturity. These individuals strive to create stability, success, and achievement in their lifetime. They are hardworking and whenever they desire something, they make sure that they get it, even if it takes unusual activities to do so. They are rigorous individuals, which can cause them to become workaholics if they are not careful. They could be the types to work or indulge in their materials (such as money, cars, etc.) to avoid their psychological issues as it seems to be what they value the most. It is important for these people to find balance in work and self-care. These folks know how to make it happen for themselves, and they are usually aware of what they desire. However, they have a tendency of feeling entitled to have something even when it isn’t necessarily theirs. Not to mention, they can get controlling or uncaring of others feelings or desires as well.

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maniac in aquarius

These people approach life with the idea that they should go against the crowd and challenge conventional ideologies with ideas and projects that are unique, objective, and different. These individuals are strong advocates and they could be drawn to being activists or fighting for the unfortunate or different population. They also strive to stand out from everyone else in the crowd, even the point of being an outcast. These are the types of people who would do bizarre and rebellious things to simply challenge society’s ideas and cause a revolution. Additionally, they aren’t afraid of being trailblazers even if it costs getting criticism or judgment. In other cases, these individuals could have a strong interest in technology and sciences of any sorts; or perhaps they could have multiple friends and love socializing with others, especially others with the same mindset as them. However, these folks need to consider others feelings as they could also struggle with obeying boundaries.

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maniac in pisces

They have a creative, compassionate, and spiritual approach to their life circumstances. Firstly, these individuals are creative and artistic, maybe even spiritual. They could love music, the arts, design, astrology, daydreaming, or the occult. They strive to express themselves through their own personal mediums to get away from the world and fall into their safe space. These people long to stay in their world where they don’t have to come into contact with reality and responsibilities. Nevertheless, these folks could struggle with accepting reality as it is and their natural obligations. This can cause these individuals to fall into addictions or unhealthy activities to help them escape from their problems. Not to mention, they are kind, friendly, and understanding individuals. They long to help others and provide others the comfort and getaway they need to feel in touch with their soul. They want vulnerable relationships with others. However, it is easy for these people to be taken advantage of and drained of their energy; plus, they could become dependent on others' energies for happiness and groundedness. In other cases, these individuals can be unintentionally manipulative or emotionally abusive.

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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ♡ through the houses ♡

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maniac in the 1st house

These individuals aren’t afraid to do what they want and be themselves. They are confident, assertive, capable, and willful. They are the type to unapologetically do and stand by their beliefs, aspirations, and actions. Most notably, these folks want the most out of life. They strive to live out huge experiences; for example: traveling, skydiving, or going out to parties with strangers. Especially, you do not have to worry about whether you’ll have an eventful time with these people because they search for action and thrill all the time. However, these people can brush people off the wrong way with their brash and impulsive persona. They could come off as indifferent to others and their feelings, so it is important for them to consider the environment before they do what their mind tells them to. Due to the inexplicable confidence and assertiveness, they might strive for attention and acknowledgement for their sense of individuality, which can easily turn them into an attention-seeker. These are also the types of people who would do the most bizarre things to the point where it can even be downright unacceptable. On the bright side, these folks love trying out new appearances; they might love dying their hair, piercing their body parts, trying out tattoos, or indulging in surgery to enhance their looks.

maniac in the 2nd house

People with this placement long for material security, monetary value, and physical stability. These folks tend to know how to set long-term and sustainable goals for themselves in which they can achieve those things. Additionally, they love money. They are the types of individuals to do almost anything to become rich and stable. They also always have their eyes on the goal, and do not let anyone get in the way of it. Most notably, they are mainly focused on practical and material concerns, which can cause them to become a bit stubborn in their ways. This could even point to perfectionism as well. They might love shopping, eating, and spending money on things they adore. Nevertheless, this placement can point to someone being overindulgent or being too hard to please or sway.

maniac in the 3rd house

These people are opinionated, intelligent, and debative individuals. They are always willing to learn, discuss, and communicate with their peers. Additionally, they love connecting and socializing. They find thrill in challenging their/other’s minds, even to the point of presenting controversial or touchy subjects. One thing about these folks is that they aren’t afraid to say what they want to say. It is possible that they may have been considered a black sheep in their school years, making them feel misunderstood. Not to mention, these individuals tend to be open-minded to a whirlwind of topics, and they can be creative in their thought processes. However, these people may need to learn to filter their words and thoughts as it is easy for them to not be received well due to their controversial and impulsive opinions and thoughts. This placement, on the extreme spectrum.

maniac in the 4th house

They have a deep-seated connection to their past, home, familial connections, and the emotional and spiritual aspects of their life. These individuals strive to feel a personal environment and safe haven for themselves, and maybe even their loved ones. Additionally, they long for protection and to protect. These folks want to be in touch with their inner world and dive into themselves. However, this can point to the huge fear of moving on from the past and shows that these individuals have many traumas and issues to heal and confront. Furthermore, these people could become possessive and obsessive over their loved ones too. They would do almost anything for the people they care about, and you can imagine how they would be as a parent.

maniac in the 5th house

These individuals have a strong desire to express themselves through their individuality and creative talents. They are often drawn to the dance, music, fashion, and other forms of artistic expression. Furthermore, these folks strive for fun and pleasure in their life–they are the types to love going to parties, taking care of children, and indulging in their favorite hobbies. They tend to have an innocent, optimistic, and naive point of view of the world, and they are always seeking to explore new things too. However, these people can often submit to the tendency of escaping their reality through their leisure pursuits to ignore their responsibilities and practical concerns. Additionally, these individuals have more of a unique–maybe even an entirely eccentric way–of expressing themselves than others. They are more than likely to stand out from others due to their intriguing and different talents and hobbies.

maniac in the 6th house

People with this placement strive for working hard and creating a structure in their daily life. They are individuals who want perfection in their projects, efficiency in their skill, and a routine in everything they do. Not to mention, they value dedication in approach to their goals. They might be the types who care vastly about their health, the nutrition they eat, and their wellbeing. However, this could cause these individuals to be perfectionists or overwork themselves to a troublesome degree. It is almost that they could struggle with stepping out of their routine to accommodate to anything, which can also make these people incredibly stubborn and controlling. There needs to be a balance in regards to their routine, work and personal life. This placement could even cause fear or anxiety such as intrusive thoughts (perhaps even OCD in extreme cases) when they try to rebel against their routine. People with this placement might like the idea of owning exotic pets.

maniac in the 7th house

These people value their connections and interpersonal relationships. They strive to understand the perspectives of the people they are involved with, whether that be romantically, platonically, or professionally. These folks always strive to connect and engage. However, this placement can point to an individual having a strong need for independence in a relationship; they might feel a push to rebel and act merciless in the relationship, not respecting the other partner’s boundaries and feelings. On the other hand, this could indicate someone who has a strong need for dependence in a relationship; they desire for someone to count on them for everything or vice versa. These are the types of individuals who jump into multiple relationships in a short period of time. They cannot live without one. Additionally, these folks could have a chaotic dating history and a line of unexpected partners in regards to their type. In other cases, this placement can indicate that they may attract insane or mad people into their love life.

maniac in the 8th house

They strive for intimacy and deep soul-seated connections, whether that be platonic or romantic. They strive to be vulnerable with others and for others to be vulnerable with them. These people desire power and control amongst many levels because this is what they are comfortable doing. They are the type of person to hex someone who they have it out for. Not to mention, these individuals could want to push boundaries and indulge in taboo practices such as spirituality, the occult, etc. This placement can indicate someone who has unusual, scary, or inappropriate sexual fantasies. However, these folks can have the tendency of going beyond other’s limits and becoming controlling. In extreme cases, these individuals could use vicious methods to keep people under their grasp.

maniac in the 9th house

These individuals long to expand their horizons, discover new things, and live their reality through spirituality and deep wisdom. These are the type of people who are highly devoted to divine practices such as meditation, shadow work, reiki healing, and much more. Furthermore, these folks love to explore and invest in different religions, cultures, and belief systems–even the ones that aren’t accepted by society. These people might like to indulge in unconforming religious practices. This shows that people with this placement have a deep appreciation and acceptance for people, religions, practices, and cultures from anywhere. This placement also increases the chances to connect with diverse people and gain unique ideas throughout their life. These individuals may have certain ideologies and belief systems that others may consider odd. Additionally, they might have a strong desire to travel to unusual places such as countries with eccentric standards of living. On the other hand, these people may want to go to college for a different degree or they want to go to a special type of college from others. However, it is easy for these individuals to develop a superiority complex or become too idealistic. They could struggle with believing that their system of beliefs and philosophies are objective, and that other people’s opinions and ideas are just as important and objective too. They have a tendency of believing that everything they stand for is the correct thing. On an extreme note, this could create scrupulosity as well–higher obsession with religious and/or personal morals to the point of compulsivity.

maniac in the 10th house

These people are goal-oriented, dedicated, and hardworking. They value their career success, public image, status, and legacy they leave behind in this world. Not to mention, they are progressive individuals as they strive to achieve their highest aspirations with no stopping. They’ll persist with accomplishing their biggest desires and will do just about anything to do so. On the contrary, these individuals could have the tendency to become too ambitious, and their ambition could more than likely lead to their downfall. (when I think of this placement, I immediately think of Macbeth or Jay Gatsby because they are the epitome of overly ambitious characters) Additionally, their ambition could lead to them doing many things just to get to where they want to be. They could even become obsessed with status and power and become controlling individuals. On a positive note, these people are relentlessly determined and it is hard for them to give up on what they truly want from life. However, it is important for these people to make sure to maintain professionalism and boundaries in the workplace as they could have the tendency to be entitled.

maniac in the 11th house

Individuals with this placement strongly prioritize and long for their goals, hopes and dreams, friendships, and society. These people will advocate for their friend groups and communities immensely as they long for a sense of belonging and also want to protect the space that accepts them the most. These folks are never afraid to make new friends, even with people that society wouldn’t desire to connect with–such as outcasts, criminals, etc. They are compassionate and open to anyone being a part of their clique. These people also strongly strive to pursue large projects, social reforming activities, and serving the community; and they aren’t afraid to do so. This makes them rebels who would rather do the complete opposite of what is expected of them to prove their point on their values. They will do just about anything to make sure their community or a certain group of people get the security, respect, and hope they deserve. On the other hand, it is easy for these individuals to become distant and indifferent to others and their feelings as well as get caught up in abrupt situations due to self-sacrificing for the people they care about (especially in their social circle) It is important for the people with this placement to not rely on validation from your community and friends too much.

maniac in the 12th house

They try to hide the animalistic, excessive, and wild qualities of themselves; in fact, they may assume that they are the complete opposite. However, the very traits they try to defy only appear through their subconscious and inner self, and eventually become their shadow qualities. It is easy for these individuals to live life controlling their instinctive qualities and inhibit themselves. However, they carry much of their uncultivated qualities inside of themselves. Firstly, these folks are strongly focused with their inner world and imagination. They long to daydream and escape from the real world into their unadulterated mind where they can be without holding back. This placement can point to an obsession or strong desire with the occult, metaphysics, or spirituality. However, this can also point to a whirlwind of many unfiltered but pent up emotions–unresolved fears, emotions, and blockages. Hence, it is easy for these individuals to get wrapped up in their own world and make themselves go crazy. In extreme cases, this placement can point to mental illness, anxiety, or personality disorders. It is essential for these individuals to learn to embrace this side of themselves and to stop holding in all of their excessive qualities and accept it as a part of them.

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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ♡ through the aspects ♡

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sun-maniac

These individuals have a charismatic, goal-oriented, and assertive personality. With this aspect, there is this strong need for achievement, accomplishment, and recognition. These people are unafraid and strive to create the best version of themselves; at the same time, they are open and willing to be who they are with no apologies. They carry themselves in a unique and controversial way so effortlessly. However, there are times where this individual may be unpredictable and erratic. Additionally, there is a tendency for these people to be controlling or manipulative.

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moon-maniac

Firstly, these people are deeply attuned with their emotions, and they are always open to basking in them. They also seek emotional comfortability and vulnerability with others. On the other hand, there could be a struggle to control or balance one’s emotions and handle their wellbeing. They might be overly sensitive, childish, or lack to respect boundaries. It is important to find a healthy compromise with your inner world and your outer world. Rationalizing and understanding one’s feelings through forms of therapy or art may help these individuals.

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mercury-maniac

These folks have a unique and special way of communion and logically expressing themselves to others. They may use a medium of art to do so, or they have an eccentric way of communication. Furthermore, they take in information way different from others, and they most definitely view the world differently too. Not to mention, they have distinctive opinions and thought processes that make them stand out from the crowd. However, it is important for these individuals to have a filter when communicating with others as it is easy for them to start a controversy and ruffle someone’s feathers. It is important to be kind and gentle with others in your means of communication.

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venus-maniac

These individuals love the idea of love and connections. Most notably, they like being in love and developing interpersonal relationships, whether that be platonically, romantically, or in other forms. They hold very specific values when it comes to love, beauty, the arts, and much more. And they aren’t afraid to execute those said values because that is what they’ll stand by. These are the types of folks who adore shopping for new clothes, indulging in foods, and doing their makeup all the time. However, it is easy for these people to become easily obsessed with their relationships, their physical appearance, their money and much more. They may even get controlling. It is important to not get wrapped up in their ideals.

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mars-maniac

These people are deeply driven and competitive individuals. They will do anything and everything to achieve their goals, dreams, and desires. Most notably, they are unapologetically assertive and brave go-getters. They could have a tendency to become overly aggressive and domineering, expecting others to submit to them. They might feel the need to force their way into being respected, which will only cause hate and disorder amongst others and their own reputation. It is important for these individuals to be kind, gentle, and respectful with others and to balance their aggression and masculine parts of their personality.

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jupiter-maniac

This placement indicates one having an impulse to explore and push their luck, to live an active life, and ultimately strive for personal freedom. These individuals tend to have a “you only live once” type of mindset, or they are more lenient when it comes to restrictions, regulations and abiding by the rules. This is only because they have an urge to live without anything tying them down. However, this could also point to them having tendencies in excessive indulgence such as alcohol, food, and etc. Additionally, there could be a habit of taking risks without fearing the consequences.

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saturn-maniac

These individuals are often disciplined, firm, and thoughtful in their endeavors; they may know how to stay focused and pursue their aspirations. When they have goals to pursue, it is easy for them to attain the ambition needed to accomplish them because they care for their dreams so much. Not to mention, they are fairly meticulous people as they are usually good at planning for the future and successfully going about things. However, there is also the tendency of being too invested in planning and becoming cautious and stagnant in approaching those goals. While on the other hand, some individuals may struggle to stay realistic when it comes to their goals. It is easy for them to be swept up by “what it could be” instead of simply going after it logically. This aspect calls for the individual to be able to balance enthusiasm and ambition with caution and maturity. It is important to be able to stay realistic–but do not feel discouraged–about your goals. As those tendencies can cause one to make rash and poor decisions due to a misguided optimism.

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uranus-maniac

Characters with this placement tend to have a drive and excitement for change, freedom, innovation and liberation. They may feel strongly about social justices, activism, and many other social-related communities. Additionally, these people are always hoping to beat around the push and challenge the usual to turn it into something new and unconventional. These individuals have a unique sense of individuality, and they feel so strongly about demonstrating their sense of individuality to others with no apologies. However, it is easy for these people to forget about others and the rational and make decisions and changes without considering the potential consequences. And they could easily embarrass themselves or cause chaos. Furthermore, they strive to be open to new ideas and perspectives.

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neptune-maniac

These individuals dedicate a significant portion of their lives to the unknown, spirituality, intuition, and imagination. They are often creative, interested, and artistic; they more than likely strive to stay in their own world as it is what drives them individually. However, it is easy for these folks to lose themselves in the realm of their vivid fancy. Excessive idealism and a struggling balance between spirituality and practicality is possible with this aspect. It is especially possible for one to neglect their practical responsibilities due to their excessive attention to their inner world. This aspect could also make someone susceptible to mental illness or delusions in extreme cases.

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pluto-maniac

Individuals with this placement have a significantly different way of handling the abrupt changes and transformations that occur in their lifetime. At the same time, these people have a strong need to adapt to many changes and repeatedly start over in life. These are the types of folks who constantly move to a different home, change their physical appearance, and in extreme cases, change their entire identity. Only because there is a drive to start over and transform into a type of person that is appropriate for them at that time. However, it is important to find a balance in changes. It is easy for these individuals to become excessive in their creative outlets as well as let their emotions and turmoil get the best of them in dire situations.

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ascendant-maniac

These individuals tend to have a complex and intricate self-concept and sense of who they are in the world; they might prioritize their sense of selves to an extreme degree and strive to find exactly who they are and how they contribute to themselves and others on a day-to-day, face-to-face basis. That is why these people may have tendencies of struggling with balancing between their personal priorities and others’ and the outside world’s needs. On one hand, they are entirely focused on themselves to the degree of being self-absorbed, while on the other hand, they are entirely focused on serving others to the degree of neglecting their character. It is important these folks learn to find temperance in a strong sense of self and being open and grounded. It is also easy for them to go insane as they can sometimes drown in the day-to-day routine and autopilot. It is important for these individuals to find true meaning in their life, relationships, and other areas they may have never thought about or neglected.

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midheaven-maniac

These folks put an immense amount of work, dedication, and persistence in regards to their career goals, works, and aspirations. The need for personal recognition and accomplishment is so huge for these individuals, that it is possible that they may feel they could do just about anything to pursue them–even neglecting their personal life. There is also an issue with modesty within this aspect. The approach to success can easily get the best out of these people and turn them into controlling, domineering, and inconsiderate individuals. Not to mention, they hope to reach for the stars–which is good in most cases–but it could lead to them being completely unrealistic and letting their ambition take over without any planning, rigidity, or cautiousness.

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thank you for viewing my post! it’s been a while since i’ve posted, so i’m happy that i’m trying to become active again. god bless you all and have an amazing rest of the day 😊❤️✨

[blog-name-idk]

The Plot Twist | 05

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 5: "It's fine! South Korea has universal healthcare coverage!"

Of three things you are absolutely certain. First, soulmates exist. Second, the universe – and you don't know how potent its power may be – runs on some sort of karmic imbalance. And third, you are unconditionally, and irrevocably, fucked.

It is raining.

In a rare, extremely odd fit of forethought, you actually have an umbrella in your bag. Normally, you would scoff at weather predictions and dare the clouds to do their worst. But today, you found yourself grabbing your umbrella before leaving for your commute, and the skies that have darkened into an ominous, storm-like gray after your work shift do not phase you at all.

Today, your undoing lies in a different kind of disaster preparedness.

Hard water pelts down almost as if it is herding you, and you hurry from the assault of the rippling sky to the awning of a closed coffee shop to grab your umbrella. Expletives spew from your lips as you dig through your messy bag. You're so focused that you barely register someone also taking refuge from the sudden storm – a man wearing a mask and a bucket hat, but is shivering through a wet, black long sleeved t-shirt that's sticking to what looks like a very toned body.

Not that that's the type of thing you typically notice or anything.

"Found you!" you screech excitedly as you pull out your umbrella and brandish it at the sky. The man beside you flinches, like you're about to attack him, and you give him a disdainful look.

"S-sorry," he mutters, the brim of his hat still hiding his eyes. "I thought you meant something else."

Something else? Is he on the run from the mob, or fleeing the national military? The incredibility of either prospect nearly makes you snicker, but whatever, you need to get home before the storm gets –

BOOM!

– worse.

The thunderclap makes both of you jump, and you wince at the realization that the rain is coming down even harder. Unforgiving sheets of water pour down, and you can barely see even a few feet past the awning. Maybe you can get an Uber instead…

You pull out your phone to see no bars. No data, no phone signal, nothing. The guy next to you is shivering even more violently now, and you internally sigh. You can't just ignore him, not when helplessness is wafting off him in tenebrous waves.

"Do you have a ride coming?" you ask reluctantly, wishing you had been raised to be more selfish. Your mother does whatever the hell she wants, why hasn't she taught you the same? Though, to be fair, she probably would have been able to get the rain to stop by glaring. Perhaps someday, in your final form, you'll be just as powerful.

The man wilts and shakes his head, and you’re alarmed when you hear a sniffle. Shit, you are not equipped to handle a crying man. You're not even equipped to handle your own emotions.

"I – I left rehearsal because I had a fight with my hyung," the guy begins to share, morosely wiping his face with a wet hand that only leaves more moisture behind. His voice quivers, and despite your misgivings, the piteous sight of him tugs at your heartstrings. "And now I'm lost. I only have my phone, and it’s useless right now."

You start to feel a little sympathy for someone who's clearly been having a bad day. You're about to offer to share your umbrella to the nearest train station when he finally looks straight at you, meeting your eyes for the first time.

The patch of skin behind your ear suddenly tingles and–

Oh.

Oh.

The rain falls, lightning cracks, and your stomach drops in time with the crash of thunder that follows. Yet you can barely hear it over the sudden pounding of your heartbeat.

"Do you… Could you… If it's not too much trouble, could I walk with you to the train station?" Jeon Jungkook pleads, large doe-eyes gazing brilliantly at you from half of an unmistakable face.

This… is why you felt like bringing an umbrella today? Because of the universe and its cosmic–fucking–intervention?

The man across you fidgets, growing self-conscious as he waits for your answer. For a few long seconds, all you can do is stare numbly at him.

Are you going to have to assume every man you run into these days is one of your soulmates? How is this even possible?

You reach your decision in less than a minute.

Dejectedly, you hold out your umbrella wordlessly to Jungkook, and his face lights up. His smile does something unspeakable to your heart that you refuse to acknowledge. His expression scrunches – cutely, to your dismay – in confusion when you just hand him the umbrella. You shove a few crumpled bills from your back pocket into his free hand, careful not to touch his skin, and he looks completely baffled.

"For the train fare," you manage to choke out, already backing away into the unforgiving rain. It's coming down so hard the pelting drops almost hurt, but this is infinitely preferable to whatever the fuck the alternative is.

"What…? No! You don't have to – I just wanted to share – "

"It's fine!" you call over your shoulder, already twenty meters away and sopping wet in the opposite way to what the universe was probably trying to contrive. "Just get home safe! I'm sure your hyung is worried!"

With that you're off, leaving a very confused and equally charmed idol behind. Jungkook stares after the strange, kind girl, wondering why it feels like you're running away.

Pondering, he scratches the tattoo behind his ear.

He’s just about to run after you, but then his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he opens it in surprise to see a wall of text messages.

How odd. The signal bars are full now.

At the influx of messages from his hyungs, his argument with Jimin at the rehearsal studio floods back into his mind, and Jungkook sniffles again and dials the familiar number.

"What do you want?" answers a grumbling Jimin, filling Jungkook's chest with guilt.

"Hyung, I'm so sorry!" Jungkook cries, blubbering in earnest now, the familiar voice opening the floodgates until his tears almost match the tempest around him.

"Don't call me!" his hyung scolds, clearly still angry. And yet, he picked up the call when he could have just ignored him. Jungkook hears Jimin sigh, the sound static and long. "Fine. Where are you?"

"I don't know," Jungkook whimpers as another crack of lightning cleaves the air. Thunder follows soon after, and he hopes that you're okay, wherever you've gone.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?!” Jimin demands, suddenly all love, all worry. "Tell me where you are and I'll come get you."

Ah… warmth. This is what his team has taught him: brotherhood, love, and family. To be angry, to piss each other off, but in the end be willing to drop everything to help one another.

Something the stranger had done despite having no need to.

"I don't know where I am," Jungkook replies, already feeling a little better. "But I'll take a taxi home. S-someone gave me some money."

"Come safely. I'll wait outside for you."

Before Jungkook can protest, Jimin hangs up. The maknae can't help but smile despite how stressful the day has been. Between his team members and the kindness of the girl from earlier, his chest feels warm and fuzzy, driving away the cold and the gloom of the gray skies and icy rain.

He just wishes he had gotten your name.

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Fuck.

You wake with a head full of cotton and a nose more clogged than a toilet at an American WacDonald's. Feeling like death, you drag yourself out of bed to the bathroom, force yourself into a scalding hot shower that – for a blessed moment – clears your sinuses. You get ready for work, and by the time you're ready, you at least look put together, though inside you're already wishing you could crawl back under your covers.

Any other time, you might have taken a day off to not inflict your coworkers with your germs, but today is that stupid executive meeting and you can't afford to miss it.

You pop some cold medicine into your mouth, mask up, and get to work early, because despite your utter lack of care when it comes to your personal life, you are a demon in the office.

"[Y/n]!" calls Mijoo, one of your favorite administrative assistants. It's for that reason and that reason alone that you pull your head away from your screen to give her a smile she probably can't see through the cloth of your mask.

"Hey," you greet, clearing your throat and relieved you haven't hit the "uncontrollable cough" stage of your cold yet. "What's going on?"

"Soonyoung is freaking out about something again," she replies quietly, casting her eyes over to the corner office where your Senior Vice-President resides.

You're not sure if he ever actually leaves the building.

You sigh. This is a big project, one that is being presented to the company execs, and you really need everything to go perfectly. It's a good thing you got here early.

"When I finish here, I'll go talk to him," you say reluctantly, making Mijoo shoot you a smile of relief.

After you've confirmed that everything should as expected, you push off your desk, letting your chair roll backwards. Then you slip your feet back into your heels, stand, and give a lazy stretch of your limbs before heading to put out the fire, rolling your shoulders as you do so.

Through the glass surrounding the door, you can see your VP frowning at his computer screen, gray brows knit in some sort of frustration. You knock twice, and he looks up, still frowning. It vanishes as soon as he realizes it's you, and with a grin he beckons you inside.

"[Y/n]! Thank goodness," he said in a relieved voice, already angling his monitor so that you can see. "I can't get VLOOKUP to work!"

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you shouldn't, instead ambling over to help the dinosaur who is (hopefully) planning on retiring soon. Why is someone so high up even messing with spreadsheets, anyway? You barely have time to do any hands-on work at this point, and all you manage is your own team.

"It's tricky," you agree fondly, humoring him not because you have to, but because he kind of reminds you of your grandpa. "Here, let me help."

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Your next meeting also has an unusually high number of execs, and you frown as you recall the vague wording of the invite. You settle in a chair next to your work friend slash rival Jaesung, who looks just as confused as you feel.

"Any idea what this 'very important meeting' is about?" you whisper in his direction, and he shakes his head.

"No clue, but there are rumors that there's something big coming up," he whispers back. The two of you are unable to speculate any further, however, as your CEO appears. What the hell?

By the time the meeting ends, you are torn between laughing and crying hysterically. The execs have announced the planned launch of a top secret flagship product, one that the company is expecting massive returns on due to a collaboration with – because this is your life now – motherfucking BTS.

And then VP Soonyoung stands, looks at you and Jaesung proudly, and says that as two of his best people, you will be spearheading the marketing and sales efforts. He adds, with an elderly jovial laugh, “Both of you will even get the chance to meet them, so go get your autograph plaques ready!”

As if you needed to be disincentivized!

"You’re so lucky!" wails Mijoo as you sit in your cube, where you have been staring woodenly at your computer screen for over five minutes now. She thinks you're in joyful shock, and maybe, it definitely is shock. The electric chair kind.

It's bad enough that you had to spend an entire wonderful excruciating evening with Hoba – Hoseok – and he is now aware of your existence, even if he hasn't realized you're soulmates. But now this?

You mull over filing for your immediate resignation, which only adds to your headache. Eventually, you conclude that your time and compensation package from Samsong are just too good, too unbeatable, and… you’ve grown as a professional here. People respect you, value you for you, and you absolutely love working with your personally curated team.

The problem is the universe keeps testing your limits. Executive meetings? Easy. Flagship product development? Doable with the right people. But passionate, self-consuming cosmic schemes involving the world’s biggest boy band in the guise of soulmateship?

You’d rather get hit by a car.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The universe hates me.

That is your last thought as you hear the squeal of tires on pavement and the frantic honks of a car horn before you're suddenly staring up at the sky, pain flaring throughout your entire body.

A man gets out of the black Hyundai Palisade with tinted windows, and you suddenly wish that you had been truly run over with no hope of recovery. Of course it's Kim fucking Namjoon of BTS, and he's looking at you in a mixture of panic and concern that makes your heart flutter despite your best efforts.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" he asks, to which part of your brain thinks, What a fucking idiot of course I'm not. The other half stupidly admires the broad set of his shoulders, the strange mixture of grace and clumsiness as he stumbles over to your battered body.

Wait.

You return to your senses, and begin to push yourself back up to your feet.

"Yep, totally fine!" you insist through gritted teeth, ignoring the way one of your legs is twisted awkwardly, and the flare of agony that permeates your body when you're able to bring yourself upright. "It was my fault anyway!"

It wasn't, but you're not going to stick around to let this play out.

You begin to limp away as fast as your contorted ankle allows, ignoring the flabbergasted expression on Namjoon's handsome face.

"I – can I at least pay for your medical bills?" he asks as he takes a tentative step after you. You hobble faster despite the burning pain in your legs.

"It's fine!" you call behind you, getting a regrettable glimpse of his beautiful, worried eyes. "South Korea has universal healthcare coverage!"

Unfortunately, you can only wobble so fast until the physically fit, able-bodied man catches up to you. By this point, your vision is fuzzing with strange dotted lights and your body doesn't feel quite real anymore. Namjoon's hand touches your shoulder, and you turn around to tell him off. Instead, you feel your legs buckle and strong arms catch you before everything goes black.

 ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"You keep appearing in unexpected places, and often." Jimin swallows, his heart beginning to race. "Your skin is always covered up. You don't eat or drink anything when I'm around."

He takes a deep breath, knowing you're just a step behind him.

"How old are you?"

You hesitate – just barely – before you reply.

"Twenty-five."

"... How long have you been twenty-five?"

"A few months."

A few months. A few months since he's moved into your apartment complex. A few months since the strange not-quite-ennui and melancholy has begun plaguing him. A few months since you have turned of age to manifest your soulmate connection.

"I know what you are."

He feels your body tense behind him, and a thrill runs down his spine. When you speak, he can feel your breath on his neck.

"Say it."

“Soulma–”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Kim Namjoon looks anxiously at the nurse checking your vitals as you lay prone on the hospital bed, wishing he could do more to help.

"I think – I think she might have hit her head," he offers, for the tenth time, thinking about the way you had tried to run away on what the nurse is reasonably certain is a badly sprained ankle. The nurse gives him a tight smile, because one does not simply roll their eyes at the leader of Bangtan Sonyeondan, no matter how many times he's said the same thing.

"We'll check for it," the nurse promises, soothing the tall man. For the time being.

Namjoon chews on his lip as he gazes at you, wondering what your story is, what kind of past would drive you to such strange lengths.

For some reason, he itches to hold your hand, but that would be completely inappropriate from a total stranger. Especially when it could cause dating rumors if anyone gets a glimpse or a picture. His manager is already going to kill him for chasing down an injured girl in broad daylight.

His eyes keep getting drawn back to your face, peaceful in sleep and – dare he say it – quite pretty. Very pretty. Beautiful, even. And you had felt so soft and nice in his arms, warm and –

"Sir, please stay seated while I finish here," comes the nurse's tired voice, and Namjoon realizes he's gotten up and has an arm outstretched to stroke your cheek.

"Uh, sorry," he stutters, face burning as he sits back down. What the hell is wrong with him? Why does he feel drawn to this very strange, very lovely girl?

A soft groan tears Namjoon out of his spiraling thoughts, and his gaze shoots to your form as your eyelids flutter open.

"Wha – " you ask blearily, waking up from the weirdest parody dream of the world’s best vampire movie ever. Shifting in your bed, pain contorts your face and you let out a hiss. "Ow!"

Namjoon rushes over, and your mouth drops open when you realize who he is. Before you can react, he's holding your hand in his, and he staggers as something in the universe fundamentally shifts. By your gasp, you're experiencing a similar sensation, and you yank your hand out of his grip before he can get his bearings.

"Your leg seems severely strained," the nurse explains, blissfully unaware of the way the world is tumbling around the both of you. "We'll need to do x-rays to make sure it’s not broken."

"I'll… get a wheelchair…" Namjoon says, in a daze, desperate to be of help even as his mind races to understand what is going on. He stumbles outside of the room, desperately hoping that a moment alone will help him get his thoughts in order and help him find the right questions to ask.

Apparently these are questions he won't receive answers to any time soon, because by the time he's back, the room is empty. The nurse follows after him, and looks around in confusion.

"Where'd she go?" the nurse asks, and Namjoon wishes he knew the answer. Who are you? Why are you so hellbent on getting away from him?

And why does holding your hand feel like home?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

That was too close. Too fucking close.

You pull yourself onto the bus by the railing, ignoring the driver's confused, concerned expression as he takes in your hospital gown and the way you're wincing in pain. You swipe your card, only vaguely aware that everyone behind you can see your rump through the poorly tied flaps of the gown.

It's fine. Your dignity is unimportant compared to the bulletproof boy scout you just dodged.

You drag yourself to a handicapped seat – if there's ever a time you can confidently sit in one, it's now – and fall into it, finding an angle for your leg that gives some sort of relief.

Despite the pain, it's the warm feeling in your hand you can't stop thinking about.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Kim Namjoon is at a loss.

Despite searching the entire hospital, the mysterious girl was nowhere to be found, vanishing from the premises as if she were never there. Still, out of personal guilt and liability, Namjoon lingered, offering to settle the missing girl’s hospital expenses, but the charge nurse expertly dismissed his generosity once it became apparent that he did not know you at all. He couldn’t even give them your name, or any proof of relation, and the rest of the staff quickly became tight-lipped around him.

Even Kim Namjoon, the illustrious 148 IQ leader of BTS, can’t argue against health privacy laws.

Since leaving his phone number with the charge nurse – his final, desperate effort – Namjoon has been staring at his phone, waiting for any news about you… news that simply never comes.

That same evening, he walks into the band’s shared dormitory with aplomb.

Single-minded, he heads straight for the living room and picks up the remote control off of the coffee table.

The flatscreen TV goes dark, and Kim Taehyung complains, “Hyung, no! What gives!”

Jungkook cries in offense, shooting up from the sofa, “My vampire baseball scene!”

Namjoon deigns them both with a long-suffering look. “We need to talk, so call the team.”

His assertive voice, usually reserved for critical matters and scolding, makes Taehyung and Jungkook abandon their emotional support movie in favor of gathering the rest of the group.

One by one, the boys pile into the living room from separate parts of the apartment at Namjoon’s behest. Most of them are sporting rumpled clothes and bedheads, save for Jimin, who looked ready to leave for his own place.

Namjoon announces, “There’s something I want to discuss. A… possibility.” He clears his throat. “A girl.”

"That's what you interrupted our movie for?" Taehyung asks, indignant. "A crush?"

Hoseok lets out an immediate sigh of relief. “Is that it?” And then he pauses, scratching at his nape, “Well, me too, I guess.”

Jimin’s eyes brighten. “No way, hyungs! Me too!”

When Jin, Jungkook, and Taehyung concede that they've also had a run-in with a very memorable girl recently, a new suspicion blooms in the back of Namjoon's mind.

Could they be talking about the same girl?

Though unlikely, he decides to ask, “Did any of you manage to get her name?”

Jin nods, seriously. “G0d$l@yeR_69.”

Namjoon shoots him another long-suffering look.

Hoseok stays silent, if only because his memories of you are one of the few non-idol centered things he still holds onto. Besides, his girl can’t possibly be their girl, too. The odds of that happening would be astronomical.

It's not so wrong to want to keep one aspect of his life to himself… right?

“Sorry, I… I didn’t get her name,” Jimin lies, for the same reason Hoseok keeps quiet. Besides, even if Jin is interested in you, Jimin's your neighbor! He should get first dibs! He's not going to give up your name so his handsome, charismatic hyung can find you and woo you before Jimin even has a chance to try.

"What's this important meeting about?" asks Min Yoongi, walking into the room with a mug of coffee in hand.

"A girl," Jungkook replies, somewhat dreamily, remembering the guardian angel that saved him that rainy day. Yoongi rolls his eyes and immediately turns around to leave despite Namjoon's protests. He has more important things to do than sit around gossiping, especially since he has a meeting with Samsong tomorrow about their new collaboration.

There's a hubbub behind him, a thump, and a curse from the ungainly leader as Namjoon's prized George Nakashima coffee table claims yet another victim. Yoongi's toe throbs, and he sighs.

"There's a first-aid kit in my room." He calls over his shoulder as he goes. "Knock yourselves out."

Far away, in a clinic near your apartment where your ankle is being put into a brace, you sneeze.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

[moonselune]

Hello there, hope you're having a good day!

Can I please get an Astarion x fem reader story where the reader gets injured when out of camp. Astarion finds them, and brings them back to camp to treat their wounds. Thank you in advance!

Something about writing an injured Tav just 😙👌

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x f!reader | Injured

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the forest floor as you stumbled through the underbrush. Your side throbbed where the bandit's blade had caught you, the wound deeper than you initially realized. You cursed under your breath, clutching the makeshift bandage you had wrapped around yourself. Each step sent a jolt of pain through your body, and you knew you needed help soon.

You had strayed too far from camp, chasing after a lead on some supplies the group desperately needed. Now, you regretted your decision as you struggled to make your way back, your vision blurring with every passing moment.

As you broke through the last of the trees, the sight of the campfire flickering in the distance was a welcome relief. You could see Astarion standing near the edge of the camp, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. The moment he spotted you, his expression shifted from casual boredom to intense worry.

"Where in the Nine Hells have you been?" Astarion exclaimed, rushing to your side as you collapsed onto your knees. His eyes widened as he saw the blood soaking through your bandage. "What happened?"

"Good evening to you too, my darling" You tried to muster a reassuring smile but winced instead. "Got into a bit of trouble… nothing I couldn't handle."

"Nothing you couldn't handle? You look like you've been through a meat grinder!" he snapped, his hands already working to support you as he guided you back to the campfire. "Honestly, do you have any sense of self-preservation?"

You groaned as he helped you to a bedroll, the pain intensifying with each movement. "I didn't expect to run into bandits," you muttered, feeling a bit defensive.

Astarion knelt beside you, his movements surprisingly gentle as he inspected your wound. "Of course not, because that would involve some forethought and caution," he retorted, his voice laced with frustration. "You could have been killed!"

You couldn't help but smile at his concern, despite the pain. "Astarion, your softer side is showing, people might start believing you love me more than yourself"

He shot you a withering look, not in the mood for your teasing. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm merely annoyed that you seem determined to get yourself killed before I can even enjoy a proper meal tonight. I mean look at all this blood- wasted!"

You chuckled, then winced as the movement jostled your wound. Astarion scowled, but you could see the worry etched in his features. "Hold still," he ordered, carefully unwrapping your makeshift bandage. "I need to clean this properly."

You hissed as the cool night air hit your exposed wound, but you forced yourself to remain still. Astarion's hands were surprisingly steady as he cleaned the cut, his touch gentle despite his earlier harsh words. Astarion was absolutely the last person you expected to be such a good healer, you had literally seen him step over a speared Gale, with a pathetic excuse of not knowing how to open the healing potion bottle.

"You know," you said, trying to distract yourself from the pain, "for someone who claims not to care about the process of mortal healing, you're awfully good at this."

He paused, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of exasperation and something softer. "It's a skill born out of necessity," he replied quietly. "When you've lived as long as I have, you learn a few things about tending to wounds."

You watched him work, noting the way his brow furrowed in concentration. "Thank you, Astarion," you said sincerely. "I appreciate it."

He huffed, but you could see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Just try not to make a habit of this, will you my love?"

As he finished bandaging your wound, you couldn't hide your smile, you had earned back your endearment privileges again. You reached out to touch his hand. "I'll try to be more careful next time."

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression softening. "I'll hold you to that," he said, his tone begrudgingly affectionate. "But for now, just let me take care of you without any fuss and no more wasting blood, understood?"

You nodded, smiling up at him. "Understood."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I realised writing this Sasstarion came out more than lover Astarion - whoops, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :))) - Seluney x

[aetherdoesthings]

Tis I, EL anon!!!! Sorry I haven't requested anything in so long. I have been focusing on my academics and my own blog lol.

Can I request Arlecchino x Fem! Reader? Like, maybe in place of Furina, Reader is the Hydro Archon? I'm not entirely sure what you'd do with this, but I think you can make it work, even though it leads a lot to interpretation.

If that's too ambitious foe you then can I have some domestic fluff with Arlecchino and Reader? Anything works 😁 I just wanna be a wife for my husband.

~EL anon

what's good EL anon YOU BETTER BE SLEEPING RN >:(

forethoughts: first piece since break! i think i had fun writing this one. gave reader the personality of furina with the theatrics and all, but just that :).

notes: fem!reader, archon!reader, arlecchino being a tease

As the Hydro Archon of Fontaine, you had a certain reputation to uphold. Many Fontainians looked up to you as their savior and hero, the one who would end the prophecy and resolve everything. You were always seen in the Opera Epiclese, on your throne watching trial after trial, gracing the audience and your wonderful fans with your theatrics and charm.

But after one inevitable meeting with the Knave regarding the prophecy, and then another meeting, and then another, and several other ‘meetings’ later, Fontainians started to notice a change in your behavior whenever you were interviewed or questioned about the Head of the House of the Hearth. You were never seen with the Knave publicly, of course. Why on Teyvat would you want the people to know that you, the Hydro Archon of Fontaine, was having… private affairs with the Knave, the Fourth Fatui Harbinger of Snezhnaya. But rumors spread and speculation arose of your relationship with the Knave, eventually becoming the headlines of the daily Steambird newspaper. Well, you supposed being seen in the House of the Hearth playing with the children with the Harbinger by your side did not strengthen your case at all. 

As you were exiting the Opera Epiclese with the Maison Gardiennage by your side, a flock of reporters you recognized from the Steambird stormed towards you. If it was not for the squadron of guards that surrounded you, you would’ve instantly been trampled on.

“Lady Y/N! Is it true that you have been secretly meeting with the Knave, the Fourth Fatui Harbinger in secret!” One reporter yelled at you.

“What the f-”

“Lady Y/N! Is it true that you have been to the House of the Hearth by the request of the Knave?!”

“What type of question-”

“Lady Y/N! Is it true that you and the Knave have been meeting in your estate every night?!” “Certainly not-”

“Lady Y/N!”

“Lady Y/N!”

The screams of the reporters rang in your ears, pounding and attacking your ear drum, threatening to make you deaf forever until you gave them the answer that they wanted. Eventually, with the help of the Maison Gardiennage, you got back up to your feet, cleaning the dirt and dust off your dress with your Hydro vision.

“I am not seeing the Knave, and I have the right as the Archon of Fontaine to travel wherever I want to go!” You exclaimed, glaring at every one of the reporters so they got your point. “The Knave is a respected partner of the Iudex and I in order to solve the crisis of the prophecy! If you have any questions about the Harbinger, bring it up to the Iudex! I am in no way affiliated with the Knave, so you can stop pestering me on about it! And also, is this the way you treat your Archon?!”

You huffed, stomping away, back to the Palais Mermonia as the crowd of reporters hounded after you, still shouting more questions that were starting to get extreme.

It took the entire time the sun was out to lose the reporters. You trudged back to your personal estate, legs weary and shoulders slumped, a sigh of relief exiting your mouth as you fumbled with the knob, stumbling into your home. The flicker of the flames dancing in the fireplace caught your eye; you didn’t remember starting a fire before you left. The glow from the fireplace illuminated most of the living room, drowning out the darkness in the space with the lighted candles too. Strange. You didn’t light the candles either.

Or maybe you did, dummy. You rolled your eyes, and stumbled up the stairs, using your body weight to enter your lit up bedroom, flopping down on the bed. 

“Hmn. Lady Y/N questioned about the Knave from the Fatui Harbingers, denies allegations and affiliations with the Knave. You even ran away” A low, gravelly voice echoed through the entire room, followed by a sigh. Pure adrenaline ran through your body, jolting you awake as you screamed, staring at the source of the voice. 

“WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!” You yelled at the Knave, who had taken a seat on your chair next to the lit fireplace in your room, her hands holding the day’s newspaper and an unbothered look on her face. Her eyes moved across the sea of ink, the corner of her lips tugging upwards at your outburst.

“From the backdoor.” The Knave replied, indifference in her voice.

“How the-”

“You gave me your key, darling.” The Harbinger smirked, her eyes filled with amusement as she glanced at you.

“I did no such thing! Why would I, the Archon of Fontaine, give the Fatui Harbinger a key to my-”

“Drop the theatrics, darling. The reporters are not here. We are alone.”

“I- You-” You let out a frustrated groan, storming over to the Harbinger to kick her in the shins. The Harbinger took your attack without protest, still engrossed with the newspaper. 

“The children miss you. Shall I tell them you will be coming over tomorrow again?” The Harbinger pondered out loud, knowing that was a trigger point for you. The Knave knew you loved the children in the House of the Hearth, never able to resist the sight of cuteness and innocence. But that was also what started the rumors and speculation of your relationship with the Head of the House of Hearth.

“You know they’re going to keep pestering me if I go back again!” You huffed, folding your arms as the Knave continued to read the newspaper. You swore her eyes were just moving left and right over and over; she was barely reading it. You jabbed her shin again with your shoe when you realized she was purposefully ignoring you. 

“Hey!” You whined, snatching the newspaper out of her hand. “I’m talking to you!”

The Knave let out a low chuckle, her arms snaking around your waist as she pulled you onto her lap, your legs straddling hers. 

“Arlecchino!” You mewled as her thumbs rubbed small circles on your hips, holding back your laughs. “I-I’m not done with being mad at you! We can’t meet every night, especially at my place! The amount of times I’ve already been questioned about-”

A pathetic whine exited your mouth as Arlecchino’s lips were planted on yours, tongue asking for permission to part your lips. All the anger was sucked out of you from the kiss, as your hands flew to the Knave’s face. Damn Knave. Why did your heart have to yearn for such a devious woman?

Arlecchino broke away from the kiss, her fingers slotted in between your locks of hair, a soft smile on her face. She chuckled as a whine left your mouth when she ended the kiss. Feigning disappointment. “Eager girl.”

A sincere and genuine smile replaced the smirk on her face as her fingers played with your hair. You swore you saw the red crosses in her eyes soften its glow. “Tired, darling? You had quite the trouble stumbling your way to bed.”

Your cheeks were red from her words and her actions. You wanted to be mad at her so bad for making your life a living hell with the press, yell at her and kick her shins until it bruised, but that calm and warm look from the Harbinger was enough for your anger to dissipate. “Yeah…” 

Arlecchino chuckled, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “How about I draw you a bath and make your favorite food? As payment for the press.”

The corners of your mouth shot up to your eyes. “It better be good! And tasty! And the bath better be warm, with all my favorite scents and-”

“Shh…” Arlecchino placed a finger on your lips. “You talk too much dear. Let me take care of you now. Just the two of us. No press, no reporters, just us. Hmn?”

[the-badger-mole]

I've seen people criticize Zuko for not taking the opportunity to kill Ozai during the eclipse but expecting Aang, a 12 y.o. pacific monk to do that instead. He was called hypocritical for being unsympathetic towards his unwillingness to take a life when he himself couldn't. I do like Zuko and tend to side with him ( post redemption ofc ) over Aang, but that seems like a valid take, I don't think I have a counter-argument to that.What is your opinion on It ? Also, what do you think was the in-universe reason for Zuko to make such a decision? He said that It's not his destiny, do you think there was any other reason for It? Is he not wrong for not doing It just bc of destiny since It's just an abstract concept and the stakes were really high ( plus It's against the show's message about shaping your own destiny) ?

Maybe I'm reading this wrong, but it sounds like the people criticizing Zuko for not killing Ozai when he had the chance wanted Aang to do it? That doesn't sound like a contradiction, so I'm not sure if that's how you meant it?

Aside from that, I can only speak for myself. I understand why Zuko didn't kill Ozai. I also understand why Aang didn't want to. What my problem with the resolution for that was that it was the first time Aang seems to have even thought about what ending the war would entail. It doesn't make him look noble, or idealistic. It just makes him look stupid. What do you mean? What do you mean that he took this entire journey to get him to master all the elements on a deadline so he can end the war, and he had no idea what ending the war would even look like? He didn't even consider it? It had to be told to him. He really goofed off this entire series and didn't think about his project until the night before it was due. And don't anyone try to use his age to excuse this to me. First of all, Aang isn't a 12 year old. He's a fictional character who was created by writers. Writers who were telling a story. THEY are the ones who didn't consider how Aang would end the war. Second, within the story, Aang's age is never used as an excuse for why he did this. In fact, not only is an excuse not given, it's treated like a virtue on his end and not a lack of forethought on his part. He's rewarded for it.

Listen, I hate the Lionturtle/Rock of Destiny double deus ex machina, and I have made no secret of it. It was a cop out. It cheapened the finale. It made everything Aang was supposed to learn irrelevant, because no, he didn't have to make sacrifices and hard choices for his victory. He won because he was supposed to win (and how's that for shaping your own destiny?). Here's the thing, though. The Lionturtle, at least, could have worked. If Aang had to come up with the solution himself, go find the Lionturtle and ask for help (and maybe have to perform some challenge to earn it), then it would've been a satisfying ending while still not making Aang himself have to shed blood (nevermind that keeping his hands clean was a privilege most of the heroes in this story couldn't have).

I didn't necessarily want Aang to kill Ozai, and definitely didn't want him to kill Ozai just because it would look cool (although...). I would have been fine with a no-kill ending, if it had been set up right. I just think having Aang kill Ozai given the set up of the rest of the story would've been more satisfying than the cop-out ex machina double team. Or someone else could've faced Ozai, because he was never the main villain of the series. Azula was. And that fight was both satisfying and didn't end with her death, either (because it's a kids' show). It wouldn't even have to change. Aang was not the real hero of this story. Katara was the hero of the first half, and Zuko was the hero of the second. Aang was just the McGuffin. He could've sat this one out and been the one to make the "Real Hero" speech instead of Zuko. That would have been a good ending.

[possamble]

farcille postcanon characterization warmup that got way out of hand. beware, here be spoilers, dragoncock, and bottoming as an extreme sport.

~~~

Marcille has always loved Falin’s voice. Soft, high, airy and girlish—it was always as gentle as the rest of her, even in the midst of pitched combat. When things went to hell in a handbasket, it was always Falin’s whispery incantations that kept Marcille grounded as blood and monster guts sailed through the air. 

And that hasn’t changed. No amount of dragon could really change that, Marcille thinks. Yes, she she has moments when her voice becomes rough and ragged and guttural, mostly when she’s swinging her mace or her fists, or gritting her teeth through a monster claw stuck into her side. But maybe that urge to growl was always there, and she’s just finally able to voice it now. Marcille finds that she’s loud at times she would have been silent before—grunting with exertion when she would have grimaced quietly, singing some nonsense melody over a mundane task when she would have hummed it under her breath—and that’s a good thing.

But otherwise, nothing has changed. Falin’s voice is as delicate as ever, chiming in a lilting giggle behind a dainty gesture of her hand. Rustling like pages of well-loved books as she casts her protective wards, or ponders over how to cook a new monster, or murmurs right into Marcille’s ear while she…

Well. While she’s got Marcille bent over her own desk with her nightgown pooled at her ankles. Marcille’s not sure if it’s rude or considerate that she didn’t get a chance to dress herself before she had a girthy cock shoved up her cunt first thing in the morning. 

“Marcille,” Falin whispers, unfairly shaky as if she’s the one getting fucked within an inch of her life. She’s mouthing at Marcille’s neck, draped over her and pressing as close as possible in every way, gripping Marcille’s hands tight and keening like she’s found heaven between her legs. “Marcille, Marcille…” 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that she gets to do that, that she gets to sound like that—with that sweet voice she’s always had, now making obscene little noises that are still whispery fine and almost ethereal coming from her mouth. These quiet, barely voiced sighs that puff against Marcille’s ear, the dulcet moans that thrum against her skin, and that demure little gasp when she thrusts a little harder and somehow finds even more space inside Marcille to bottom out in—

“Marcille…” she whimpers like she’s in pain, on the verge of tears, fingers tight between Marcille’s as they grip the edge of the rattling desk together. “You feel—so good, oh… You’re”—another moan buried just behind her ear—"so wet, so good…” 

It’s not like Marcille got the chance to be anything else right now, did she? Not when Falin fell upon her just as she was sorting through her documents, pressed against her back and already unfastening the clasps of her gown and slipping it off her shoulders. She was fully naked before she even got a playful good morning whispered into her ear—it’s a miracle she had the forethought to push her papers out of the way just before Falin had her wrapped around her finger in the most literal sense. 

Well. Fingers in the plural, really, since she always starts with two. Usually while pawing at Marcille’s tit with her other hand until her stupid knees give out and she ends up buckling over whatever surface is nearby—in this case, her desk, mercifully free of any uncapped inkwells at the moment. Now slathered with sweat that makes her tits slip and slide along the wooden varnish, of course, but otherwise non-disastrous. 

Hopefully her nightgown is catching most of the mess running down her thighs, or she’s going to have to make the most humiliating request to the castle staff about her carpets for the third time this month—

“Yes…!” Falin digs her heels in and fucks her even harder, taken with some kind of mindless momentum all of a sudden. “I love you,” she pants in that stupid—feathery, daisy-light tone that has no business being this sweet while she’s ravaging Marcille like this— “you’re perfect, you’re perfect—” 

Marcille’s going to die like this. This is how she’s going to go: Bleating like an animal with her cheek stuck to her desk with drool, eyes just permanently rolled back in her head, toes barely touching the floor as Falin keeps fucking her further onto the desk. She hasn’t said a single coherent word since her second orgasm however many minutes ago, just broken into an endless stream of guttural noises as her cunt slobbers and squelches around Falin’s cock almost as loudly as she’s wailing. 

“Marcille,” Falin keens, sounding like a bashful princess ravished to breathlessness—just something straight out of a high-minded erotica novel—all while hammering Marcille into the desk at a shallow, breakneck pace. “You feel—feel s–o good, you’re perfect, oh—oh, you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, I love you, I love you—” 

For the love of—fuck. Marcille can distantly hear herself scream, can feel the desk digging into her as she flails, her grasp on sanity getting thinner and thinner with each word that tumbles out of Falin’s mouth and shoots straight through her nerves. She’s—good god, she’s not usually this talkative. It’s almost always Marcille begging and blabbering about how much she wants Falin’s cock, how good it feels, how she wants it harder and faster and more, screaming and crying Falin’s name over and over—

But now, in the absence of Marcille’s pathetic yapping—after she’s already fucked the words out of Marcille so thoroughly—Falin’s taken it upon herself to murmur a stream of honeyed nonsense into her ear, her frail and gentle voice breaking with desperation—and fuck, it’s not fair.

“Yes, yes, oh—” Falin sobs into her neck. “I love it—I love it when you sound like this, I love you—you’re so good, so good for me, my Marcille—” 

No, no, no, she can’t do that, she can’t do that—she can’t say that, in that voice, while her cock is so deep in Marcille there’s hardly room for anything else, battering all her nerve endings and rearranging her so that there’s nothing left but her, Falin, Falin—

“Ah!” Falin cries out, like she’s the one getting reamed against her stupid fucking desk so hard she can barely breathe— “Yes, please, please—please say my name again!” 

Well. She can beg all she fucking wants, but it’s not going to be pretty and she has no one to blame but herself—it’s her fault Marcille can hardly speak, it’s her fault her name is only coming in rough wails with both syllables separated with heaving, crying breaths. Marcille gives it her all, scrapes whatever intelligence she has left to speak, and sounds like a dying animal in a way that can’t possibly be anything but hideous to listen to—

And still, Falin sobs, as if in utter ecstasy as she fucks Marcille so hard the desk starts scraping along the floor in harsh jumps. 

“Yes, yes—ah—” Her voice, not so whispery gentle now but still so melodious and clear, sounding out from deep in her chest— “I—love—you—” she weeps, punctuated by the hard slams of the desk against the floor as she drops the rapid pace in favor of mercilessly hard thrusts— “Beautiful—perfect—mine!” 

Then she finally, finally comes—not that it stops her, not with how she thrusts with every spurt. Like she’s not just satisfied with letting it spill out, like she needs to fuck it into Marcille with all her strength, once, twice, then one last time, stuffing her cunt absolutely full with searing heat—

And Marcille doesn’t even realize she’s coming until she’s unceremoniously ejected out the other side of the high, that telltale swoop of vertigo rushing through her veins. The orgasm doesn't even have the grace to let her go limp with afterglow, of course, and she’s left there convulsing and twitching like a drowning fish. With her jaw pressed to the desk, she can actually hear her teeth chatter from how hard she’s shaking, Falin’s warm weight on her be damned. 

(One day. One day, she’ll stop embarrassing herself like this—one day she’ll finish like a normal person during sex, instead of going off like a cheap firework every half hour and wringing an orgasm out of herself as soon as she feels Falin finish inside her, whether or not she even had one left in her to begin with.) 

“M-Marcille,” Falin stammers, her voice breathless but now shy and girlish again as she slowly untangles their hands. “Are you—are you okay?” 

The gall. To ask her that, when she’s nothing but a sweaty carcass slung over her desk, still twitching erratically. To be so gentle as she straightens up and kisses the back of her neck, tenderly brushing her hair to the side as she pulls out ever so slowly—

And still. Not. Slowly. Enough—apparently! Not with the sparks that explode in Marcille’s eyes again, utterly unclear if this is another orgasm or just a particularly brutal aftershock! She just goes squeaking and shaking and sliding off the desk onto her knees, hands clapped over her cunt like they’re going to protect her from the lightning racing up and down her spine. She doesn’t even know where she landed, really, convulsing and closing her thighs around her hand as cum and slick drools into her palms, falling forward and— and smacking her head against the edge of her desk.

“Oh!” Feathered arms clasp around her before she can slide past the wood with her sweaty forehead and land on her face. “Careful—are you okay?” 

The gall. The audacity. The—something, or whatever, fuck, Marcille doesn’t even care anymore. Her head throbs with an oncoming bruise, she can’t feel her legs, she can feel her pussy way too much, and it’s a wonder she hasn’t fallen apart on the spot—

“Okay… let’s…” There’s some maneuvering going on, but hell if Marcille can actually tell what Falin’s doing. “Here, let’s take a bath—I’ll go draw some water.” 

Marcille whines, because no—she doesn’t know where she is, she just twists until her face finds feathers and buries herself there. She even manages to bring one cum-covered hand to grip at the quils, because this mess is Falin’s fault and if she doesn't like it then she can wash it off herself—but she’s not allowed to leave. 

A little chuckle under her breath—and it’s so fucking cute and girlish like she hasn’t just demolished a full grown woman to the brink of unconsciousness, but Marcille can’t even find it in herself to be mad. Falin can ask her whatever the hell she wants, do whatever the hell she wants, so long as she doesn’t let go. 

“I’m bringing you with me, I promise,” Falin whispers so tenderly, pressing a kiss to Marcille’s head. There’s arms tightening around her back and under her knees, and she feels herself being lifted. “I wouldn’t leave you like that…” 

Better not, Marcille grumbles to herself. Not sure if it made it past her mouth, but it doesn’t matter. Falin’s going to take responsibility for turning her morning into—into this, even if it means having to draw some bathwater with an elf clinging to her the entire time. She’s going to be the one to wash her off, bring her their missed breakfast, and tell everyone why she wasn’t there at the morning meeting—

Maybe not that last part. 

“I’m sorry,” she hears, in that soft and whispery tone she’s loved for so many years. That voice that didn’t change, even with everything that happened—everything that Marcille did to her, and it’s—

It would be so, incredibly stupid if she started crying out of nowhere. 

“Liar,” she whines, digging the indignant annoyance back up to pout like a spoiled brat. “You liked… every second…” 

Another giggle that so infuriatingly lovely. “I did.” The sound of a squeaky valve turning, then rushing water that slaps against stone. “Did you?” 

Marcille just grumbles again and clings even tighter. Falin just laughs a little louder and strokes her hair, too kind to demand an answer in so many words—or, perhaps, impishly content to let Marcille incriminate herself with her silence, as she so often does.

[roanniom]

I adored smartest! Scratched an itch I didn’t know I had for Steve. Can’t stop thinking of him seeing someone trying to flirt with his tutor and getting possessive and dragging her down the nearest dark alley to prove no one could make her dumb like he can.

Smartest - Part 2

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 1

Warning: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, mutual masturbation, semi public sex / PIV sex / unprotected sex, teasing, power dynamics, King!Steve is a dick and is his own warning (but goes through angst here???)

Steve isn’t really sure what he assumed would happen after he’d been hooking up with his tutor for a while. There had been absolutely no forethought to the initial act, and the fact that you had been into him enough to let him keep fucking you during each session - well Steve Harrington isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, of course.

But he certainly hadn’t anticipated how the attention would affect how you carry yourself. In the halls. In class. In the stands during pep rallies. Walking through the diner or at the movies. Whenever Steve sees you out and about in Hawkins now, he can’t help but blink and do a double take.

You stand up straighter. You smile brighter. You make eye contact with the people around you. Your clothes are a little more relaxed, opting for flouncier skirts and fun tops rather than cardigans and your usual buttoned up, structured dresses.

To Steve, of course, the change seems motivated by him. And, to be fair, he was sort of the catalyst. He couldn’t possibly know that really you’ve started to come into your own, not because of Steve’s attention itself, but because of the way it allowed you to dismiss the fears you’d had of your own undesirability. The King of Hawkins High wanted you. You’re pretty sure it’s just as a steady fuck buddy, but still. You’d gone from scared to look boys in the eye to being very aware of the fact that you walking through the Harrington’s front door with your books and notes had a pretty much Pavlovian effect of Steve’s cock. He was basically hard fifteen minutes into any tutoring session these days.

It’s not that Steve’s attention has validated you, per se. It’s more that it has made you realize how silly men are. How easy and one track minded they can be. Its almost silly to think how starved you had been for approval and how sure you’d been that your status as an A+ goody goody made you untouchable. That was clearly, judging by the bruises Steve left on your thighs each week, not the case. The whole thing has made you ten times less nervous in his presence. And if you don’t have to be nervous around the King, it essentially means that you’re more at ease everywhere.

At first this change in you intrigues Steve. He truly had never really given you much thought prior to the start of your dalliance. Sure you were pretty…in a stuffy, academic, good girl type of way. But he was always a bird of prey, looking for shiny, garish, colorful and shapely things to catch his eye.

So the day you show up to his place in a tight skirt and a fashionable off the shoulder blouse that bares your collar bones and exposes cleavage, Steve’s eyes practically pop out of his head.

“Well hello,” he says directly to your tits. You roll your eyes and step around him into the house.

“Hi, Steve,” you reply, walking towards the dining room where you usually have your sessions. Steve jogs up behind you and grabs you at the waist, turning you back to him.

“Not in there. Let’s study in my room.”

“Why?” you ask, confused by the sudden change.

“Well, my parents are home,” Steve elaborates. Heat fills you as you realize what he means, but you cock your head to the side, waiting for him to say it. Steve rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “So we can’t…have fun in the dining room.”

“I’m here to tutor you, Steve. So I guess it’s okay if we can’t have fun,” you say with a shrug. You can’t suppress your smile though and Steve’s smile widens. A few weeks ago you would have stuttered and gone shy but immediately compliant, hoping to please him. This was new.

“Yeah but what about when I get an answer right?” Steve asks, stepping forward and lifting his hand so he can play with the hem of your shirt. “You know I need positive reinforcement.”

You do your best to hide your swallow at the memory of how you had sucked his cock after you’d cajoled him into memorizing his flash cards. Even more heat courses through your body but you look up at him defiantly.

“I brought a packet of gold stars. You like stickers, Steve?”

Your answer catches him off guard and he lets out a bark of a laugh. There’s a triumphant fanfare ringing in your ears at the fact that you are able to make Steve laugh like that. Organically and not part of any of kind of show or flirtation or charm offensive.

“I do like stickers…” he says, his hand dipping under the hem of your top and splaying out over the bare skin of your waist. “But I think this body might motivate me better.”

Your breath catches in your throat at that. His heavy eye contact leaves you nowhere to run. Not that you’d ever run from Steve. He’s a magnet pulling you in regardless of distance or context.

But he’s also made the vital mistake of showing his hand. He wants something from you, too. This isn’t a one way serving pity situation. You might be dumb with his cock in you, but before it gets to that point you’re still the smartest girl in Hawkins. So you use this information to your advantage.

You take his hand and walk him up the stairs (a bold move that he didn’t see coming and which makes him immediately rock hard as he watches your ass away ahead of him up the steps).

You’re the one who closes the door. He locks it.

You end up getting Steve to complete all of his homework…by himself. With motivation in the form of a game where you give him a sticker after he completes each assignment and he gets to decide which body part of yours it goes on. By the end of the afternoon you’re naked on his bed, a sticker on each of your tits, each of your ass cheeks, your bellybutton, and your lower abdomen. By the end of the session his head is squeezed between your thighs, his hands roaming and roving to squeeze each soft piece of flesh he’d bedazzled with his gold stars of favor.

So yeah. At first your increased confidence was something Steve found pretty fucking hot.

But as time went on, he began to realize that your confidence didn’t begin and end with him. He started seeing you around in school more. It’s not that you had somehow increased the amount of times you cross his path in a day, exactly. More that you used to melt into the background a bit more. He’d notice you only if you were right in front of him shyly waving. He’d wave back dutifully at his tutor, sometimes throwing you a bone in the form of a wink, lazily enjoying the way it would so obviously throw you into a tailspin with virtually no effort on his part.

Now you’re somehow everywhere all at once. And not only are you noticeable in the crowd - you stand out from it. Your hair is more stylish, your clothes are unapologetically patterned and colored and fit you in ways his hands envy. Your smile is brighter than the god damn fluorescents above. And now Steve is the one who has to maneuver to catch your eye. Because you’re always talking to people these days, it seems. And a lot of those people are guys, Steve notices begrudgingly.

You stand with your back against a locker, your books pulled to your chest as your arms wrap around them, a smile on your face that is definitely not worth the lame ass comment said by the dumb jock standing before you. Steve pauses at the water fountain where he’d been bending when he’d turned his head and saw you. So clearly the recipient of some football player’s attention.

And boy do you glow under attention.

That week when you arrive at his house to tutor him, Steve tries to charm you again into simply fucking outright. Again, you coyly dance around it, making him work for it. He ends up losing his patience and crowding you in the kitchen when you get up for a snack.

“Steve! I’m trying to—!” You’re squealing but he swallows it up as he takes the coke can out of your hand and blindly moves it away from you, his mouth already hot on yours.

Before you can register what’s happening, Steve’s hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter and pushed his way between your spread legs.

“What?” Steve asks, pulling away and feigning nonchalance as if he hadn’t just manhandled you and mauled you with his lips. “You said we could have a snack break.” He slides a hand down to cup your pussy through your skirt. He pets at the place over your clit. “This is my snack.”

What would have once rendered you speechless makes you roll your eyes.

“I’m actually hungry, Steve.”

Steve gives you a lopsided grin and drops his hand on his hard on, evident and swell in the confines of his jeans.

“Got a snack for you right here.”

You laugh at that and Steve feels something akin to pride zing through him. But it’s not exactly like pride, an emotion he knows well. No, it’s something different. Warmer.

“As much as I do enjoy that particular snack, Harrington, I don’t think your cum will satiate me.”

“Fuck. Dirty talk and big words like ‘satiate’.” Steve pretends to feel faint with a hand on his forehead. “You really have this hot smart girl thing figured out.”

You shake your head at him but smile, and Steve hates the fact that it’s your smile that makes him even harder.

He also hates the fact that fifteen minutes later he finds himself sliding into a booth at the local diner rather than sliding himself into your sweet pussy.

You’d cajoled him into taking you for a real meal since there was nothing to eat at his place. And no, you’d continued to argue. His cock was not a balanced meal.

His hand had been on your thigh for half of the drive to the diner before he realized, like ice water down his back, that the whole situation reeked of a date. He’d pulled his hand back over to clutch at the steering wheel with a double grip, eyes flitting to you anxiously. However you seemed not to notice, looking instead out the window pleasantly.

As he’d parked Steve had made a mental note to reel in the PDA. He didn’t want you thinking this was more than it was. More than a weekly fuck session between two consenting people. One of whom used to have the upper hand and one of whom…had the sexiest smile with lips that looked sinful wrapped around a stripped straw and cheeks that hollowed sexually as they sucked—

Fuck.

Steve Harrington was in trouble.

The meal went by quickly, and over time you were able to pull him from his rattled internal monologue, stealing his fries and teasing him for getting in trouble in class earlier in the day. Steve throws a fry at you and nudges your foot with his under the table. You laugh. His stomach flips. His palm itches so he drops it under the table and rubs it against the denim on his thigh.

When the waitress comes with the check, you bound to the bathroom and Steve gets a minute to get his shit together.

He’s Steve fucking Harrington. Supreme stud of Hawkins High. Another girl every week (although if he was counting, which he wasn’t, it had been a few weeks since he’d reracked his rotation). He fishes his wallet out of his too-tight jeans and drops down some bills.

“Thanks, handsome.”

Steve looks up, expecting to see you but instead realizing it had come from the waitress who he’d forgotten was standing there. She’s a pretty thing, maybe a year or two older. He’s seen her working here before and he lets his eyes roam over her figure unabashedly. Her uniform isn’t zipped up all the way in the front, leaving exposed a generous swell of cleavage and her waist flares out into a voluptuous set of hips. She taps a manicured nail on her order pad, patiently waiting for him to finish oogling her. She’s a hot girl and he’s a hot guy. She knows this dance and so does Steve. When he drags his eyes up from her tits to her face, she looks expectant.

This is the part where he chats her up. Where he compliments her - or cuts her down a bit in a boyish, redeemable way - and then asks her out. He’s supposed to give her his million watt rich boy smile, run a hand through his hair, and turn on the charm.

She’s expecting it. He’s expecting it of himself.

But instead, all he can manage is a nod and a tight smile. He watches the waitress’s brows raise and her smile fall a bit. But then she’s simply picking up the money and walking away. Steve has a moment of panic as his eyes drop to watch the sway of her ass as she retreats. What the fuck is wrong with him? He could have been tucked away in his car with that hot woman, spanking that ass within the hour.

Instead he’s still tucked away in a booth at a diner her didn’t want to go to, still painfully hard without an outlet in sight.

Which is when he hears your laugher ring out, causing said hard cock to twitch. Steve turns quickly to find you standing by the entrance to the bathroom, cornered by yet another football player.

He sees red. The way you’re leaning up against the wall is a mirror image to when he’d seen you receive attention earlier in the week by your locker. You gaze up at the football player with a smile that Steve realizes he’d assumed was only meant for him. It boils his blood to think that the smile you’d bestowed on him so dutifully, so loyally, was just your smile. A thing to be handed out like some cheap party favor to any Tom, Dick, or Harry.

Steve can’t know - especially from a distance - that you really are only humoring this guy. If one looked closer they could never mistake the tight lipped, emotionless nicety on your face for the radiant, full bodied smile you reserved for Steve. You’d gotten cornered by the jock on your way back to the bathroom, and you’d been trying to politely extricate yourself from his lukewarm advances for a few minutes now.

He was rambling about his car and the upgrades he’d gotten done to it when suddenly a pair of big hands land heavy on your shoulder.

“Babe, I paid the check. Let’s get out of here.”

You whip your head around to find Steve behind you, though his gaze is placed firmly on the football player. Though they aren’t the same in width, Steve’s got the guy beat in height, and he uses it to his advantage by standing up straight and puffing his chest a bit.

“Harrington,” the jock chokes out. In the Hawkins hierarchy, the basketball team is more successful than the football team by a long shot, so a certain amount of deference is expected for the king of the court, even from fellow athletes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…is this your girl?”

Steve feels you go rigid under his hold. Your eyes flash up to his but he doesn’t meet yours.

“Don’t you have a playbook to memorize?” Steve asks coolly. He pulls lightly and your back presses against his chest. “If I remember football season right, I’d say it’s gonna take you till fall and then some. Better get back to it.”

You try to laugh his comment off and put a hand on the bicep of your would-be suitor.

“Steve, this is—,”

“Mr. Irrelevant,” Steve completes for you, smoothly using both an insult and a football pun.

The jock stutters another apology before ambling back to his friends. You don’t have time to question Steve because his arm is suddenly around you, pulling you with him out the door.

The two of you walk briskly to his car, and only when you reach the passenger door do you finally regain your powers of speech.

“What was that in there, Steve?” you ask quietly. Your hand is on the door handle but you remain motionless.

“What? I told you, I don’t like football players,” Steve says with a shrug, yanking open the driver side door and dropping into his seat. You climb in carefully and watch him as he violently pulls on his seatbelt.

“Why?”

“Because they’re a bunch of meat heads and it’s a sport revolving around how many concussions they can rack up—,”

“No, Steve,” you interrupt gently, your hand dropping on his knee. “Why were you acting…possessive?”

Steve’s skin burns through his jeans where your hand touches him. He stares at it for a second before looking up, agitated.

“Well excuse me for saving you. I thought you’d be thanking me for getting that guy to stop drooling on you.”

His words sting and you wince. Steve even winces a bit, having not intended to sound so forceful. You shrug.

“He was only being nice.”

Steve let’s out a humorless laugh.

“That wasn’t being nice. That was undressing you with his eyes. That was trying to get you to let him feel you up under the bleachers. Nice is—,”

“Nice is flirting with your tutor to get her to do your homework?”

Steve freezes before he can turn the key in the ignition. He looks over to find that you’re staring blankly out the windshield. Your arms are hugging you, like you’re trying to comfort yourself.

“That’s not…”

“Nice is fucking her when you’re bored? Your little prescheduled sex appointment?”

Steve’s defenses raise and he unbuckles his seatbelt so he can turn more fully to you.

“Hey wait, that’s—,”

“That’s exactly what this is. I haven’t misunderstood that, Steve,” you say, finally turning the full force of your earnest gaze on him. “Have you?”

Steve blinks at you slowly. Completely unsure about what’s going on and how the night has taken this turn.

He’s even more bewildered when you suddenly move to climb into the back seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks, surprised and leaning over to watch you lay yourself down on the seat.

“You wanted to fuck me earlier. So do it.”

Steve feels like you’ve slapped him in the face. Your stare is cool and you begin to unbutton your blouse. Panic rises inside of him and his head whirls around.

“Here? Someone could see,” Steve argues. They are in the back corner of the parking lot, but it’s a parking lot nonetheless, illuminated by one sole street lamp. You shrug.

“The windows are tinted, aren’t they?”

Steve can’t begin to comprehend the conflict coursing through his veins. Of course the windows are tinted. Almost illegally so. He knows that because he’s fucked countless girls in the back seat of his car. Hadn’t he even just thought about fucking that waitress in his car only minutes ago?

But with you…

He’s thrown off by the urge he has to cover your breasts with his hands when you peel back your top. Not even to touch you but just to keep you from being seen by others.

Why does he fucking care?

King Steve had fucked at every party he’d ever been to - sometimes even in rooms with no doors or up against the back of a house with people nearby on a porch. He’d never once had a conscience about it. As long as the girl was down, he was ready to go.

So why is it different now, with you stripping in his back seat and staring at him with big doe eyes?

“Come on. Don’t make me get started by myself,” you say teasingly. You’re clearly trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. Steve swallows hard.

“You wouldn’t.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him and lift the hem of your skirt. You’re wearing a lacy scrap of panties that match your bra. Definitely a far cry from the sensible underwear you’d been wearing the first time he’d seduced you.

“Try me.”

And despite the confusion and warning bells going off in his head, Steve’s clambering into the back seat in seconds. He’s on top of you, hips shoved between your thighs and big hands on your wrists, pinning them above your head against the inside of the car door.

“That’s more like it,” you coo, smiling a dazzling smile up at him. It thrills him and upsets him and makes him frustrated all at once, and since he doesn’t know how to express that with words he does it physically. His mouth drops to your neck so he can pull a sizable amount of flesh between his lips and suck. Hard. You gasp and arch up into him, giving him the perfect opportunity to switch your wrists into a single handed grip so he can move the other hand down to grope at your breasts. Instead of covering them and hiding them, he rips down your bra, letting your breasts spill from the cups.

Steve bites a bruising trail down from your neck to your cleavage, sucking harder than he ever has before.

“Trying to be cute, huh?” he growls against your skin. You laugh breathlessly, wrists straining against his hold.

“Yeah. ‘s it working?”

That makes Steve strangle a laugh but it still frustrates him. You’ve somehow still got the upper hand here. Even though you’re below him and your body is at his mercy. When did the tables turn so fully?

So he sits up abruptly, leaving you laying back, legs still open wide around his hips, his spit still drying around the new bruises sucked to your neck. You’re motionless for a second before leaning up on your elbows to look at him, dazed.

“I’m a little unconvinced,” Steve says with a shrug. A frown filters over your features. You watch as he smooths his hands up and down your thighs, looking at your panty-clad center appraisingly.

“What are you unconvinced about?” you ask. Steve draws a line with his index finger over the length of the waistband of your panties.

“That you really want it bad enough.”

Frustration flickers in your eyes.

“Want what?” you ask, playing along. Steve drops one hand to the bulge in his jeans.

“This cock.”

You roll your eyes and sit up higher.

“Of course I want—,”

“I’m not sure, baby. You were gonna touch yourself back here. Maybe I should have let you handle it.” His actions contradict his words as one hand rubs slow circles right at the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Your eyebrows knit together.

“No, I want you,” you reply, almost petulantly.

There it is.

This is what Steve needed.

But he shakes his head. Now that he’s got you back on the line he’s going to enjoy this to the fullest.

“Maybe you had the right idea,” he says, leaning back a bit against the opposite door. The backs of your thighs still rest on the tops of his, and with one hand still heavy on you, his free hand pops open the button of his jeans. You feel the slide of his zipper rush down your spine.

When Steve pulls his cock out and begins to stroke it, you feel your stomach drop and your mouth water. He’s watching you as he does it. Eyes darting from your breasts almost spilling out of the cups of your bra to the wet spot in the center of your panties. It makes you hot. It turns you on in a way that’s almost painful to watch the flushed fat head of his cock disappear and reappear in the grip of his fist.

“I’m…I’m right here,” you mutter. Steve grins and takes his hand from his cock and slides it confidently under the elastic hem of your panties.

“Yeah, you are.”

The intrusion of his fingers is sudden and sure and you gasp at the feeling of them sliding through your slick. He swirls a few circles around your tensing hole before sliding up to press circles into your clit. You drop back down off your elbows and let out a satisfied moan at the stimulation you’d craved.

But then…he’s pulling his hand back, allowing the elastic of your panties to snap back on you with a sting. You sit up again fast and watch as he takes the wetness he’d gathered from you to make the glide of his hand on his cock more smooth. Your jaw drops.

“Thanks, baby,” Steve says with a wink.

“Steve, what?!”

He shrugs.

“I would’ve asked you to spit in my hand but I didn’t think you would since you’re having an attitude.”

That. That struck exactly the nerve he thought it would. Your jaw sets and your eyes flash. Scooting back a bit so you, too, can lean on the inside of the door closest to you, you drop your legs open wider, well aware of the way Steve’s attention immediately drops to them.

“You’re not very nice, Steve Harrington,” you say quietly. Both of your hands move to squeeze at your own breasts and you arch into your own touch. Steve chuckles at that, eyes on your hands.

“And you’re nice even when you’re pissed apparently,” he says dismissively. Your frown deepens as you pull your bra down to expose you fully. Steve’s face goes blank, like you hoped.

“Fuck you,” you respond, just as quiet as before. Steve’s eyes remain glazed, hand moving faster on his cock, but he gives a lopsided grin.

“There she is. Feisty.”

The interior of the car has started to heat up. The humid smell of sex fills the air, though you’d prefer actually having sex. He’s been pushing it tonight, but you really can’t help the way you feel watching his big hand move on his even bigger cock. It should be inside you. This is the day of your tutoring session. The one day of the week that almost guaranteed you had his attention. Every other day, King Steve belonged to Hawkins. He was a heartthrob and a hometown hero. Probably inside of a different girl each night of the weekend (though you try not to think of that because it’s gross).

But on tutoring days it’s just you. So the fact that he’s choosing to touch himself rather than fill you has you feeling petty. It makes you redouble your efforts. You pinch one of your nipples and let out a heady, performative sigh, all while your other hand moves down and shoves inside your panties. You trace the same path Steve did, circling your hole and then your clit. Getting yourself nice and worked up with your eyes glued on the way Steve drags his hand over his throbbing dick.

Steve is mesmerized, as seems evident by the way he’s stopped talking to watch you. To hear you.

When you push two fingers inside of yourself, you let out an indulgent moan that causes Steve’s hips to buck into his hand. Your thighs quiver where they remain stretched out around his legs.

You drop your other hand down into your stretched out panties to play with your clit while you continue thrusting fingers in and out of yourself - that’s when Steve loses it.

“Show me,” he says gruffly, eyes ripping from the space between your legs to look up at you blearily.

“You’re literally watching me right now,” you laugh, breathless. Steve shakes his head and reaches out to tug on the edge of your panties.

“Get this shit out of the way.”

Now it’s your turn to shake your head.

“Nope. You had your chance with my pussy. You wanted your hand.”

The filthy words coming from you almost makes his eyes roll back in his head. He grunts and continues fisting his cock, but he looks more frustrated now.

Unfortunately there’s something of a Pavlovian response in your body at the sight of his aggression. Whether you like it or not, your burgeoning sexuality had crackled into being under the hands of Steve Harrington, and Steve being Steve is what gets you going.

Unlucky for you and the upper hand you’re trying to cling to, Steve can tell. Back to back weeks of fucking the same person will do that to you, apparently.

“You’re close.” It’s more accusation than observation.

You want to disagree but your fingers speed up on your clit and you widen your legs even more, looking to build pressure.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Fuck.” Steve slows his hand on his cock, breathing deeply and placing a laser focus on your hands in your panties. “Bet you’re getting tight around those fingers, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod, eyes closing and head thrown back against the door. “Really tight…”

Steve let’s out an uncharacteristically pathetic moan. The thrill of it causes your core to contract even tighter.

“Bet you wish I was sucking those tits right now,” Steve remarks, replaying in his head all the times he’d made you cum lately. You lift up to look at him with stern hooded eyes and pull one of your hands from your panties. With a pointed look you raise your fingers to your mouth, lick them wetly, and then bring them down to play with your nipple. Your hips buck into your other hand and Steve loses his fucking mind.

“Alright, that’s fucking it,” he says, launching himself forward. He’s on you in the blink of an eye, hitching your legs up and around his hips, dropping so that his elbows cage you in on either side of your head. The length of his cock slides parallel to your entrance with a wet sound, pushing your pussy lips apart.

“Finally,” you moan petulantly. And that’s all the consent Steve needs to reach down and line himself up so he can thrust into you.

Things get hot and hazy after that. Your fingers thread into his hair and pull hard at the roots. Steve’s tongue and teeth are everywhere, but especially on your pulse point and on the peaks of your breasts.

The slap of skin on skin fills the interior of the car, rivaled only by your shared panting.

Steve shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t be such a relief to sink into your body, like it’s a home he’s been waiting to return to. Your nails biting into his back through his shirt shouldn’t feel like heaven and your little mewls and gasps shouldn’t be an angel’s chorus. He’s not even fucking religious, so what’s with the holy comparisons?

“Oh Steve. Fuck,” you whisper moan right into his ear. Steve slides a hand under you to push your lower back up, giving your hips a tilt that lets him hit deeper.

“It’s good, yeah?” he asks. It’s a question but it’s cocky. You bite his earlobe and clench around him.

“I don’t know, is it?”

“Fucking Christ.”

Yeah. Steve Harrington is seeing god in the back seat of his car in a diner parking lot.

~*~

It takes a minute for you both to catch your breath when you’re done. Sweat and cum and words left unsaid create a film over the two of you which makes it hard to breathe.

Eventually Steve helps you climb back into the front seat before hoping behind the wheel himself to bring you back to the empty Harrington house. Upon arriving, Steve puts the car in park and turns to you, intent on speaking though he’s not sure what he plans to say. You, however, give him no such chance to figure it out as you bound out of the car and up the path to the front door. Steve catches up to let you in.

It’s later than it usually is when you wrap up your tutoring sessions. Steve has to turn on lamps as he follows you through the dark foyer and into the dining room where he finds you already grabbing your things and packing your bag up, half hidden in shadow.

“We didn’t finish the work,” he says quietly. Some what dumbly. You hoist your bag over your shoulder and give him a smile that deep down he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“Yeah. Looks like we’ll have to finish another time.”

When you start for the door, moving at a brisk pace, Steve stumbles after you.

You’re over the threshold and making your way to your car, glowing in the yellow light of the porch lamp before Steve can blurt out.

“When?”

God, he does sound fucking dumb.

And you. You turn and give him one last smile. Looking so put together. So smart.

“That’s up to you, Steve,” you say with a shrug, opening your car door. “You let me know.”

And with that, you get in your car and drive away. Leaving Steve standing alone on his porch with his thoughts.

~*~

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Ahhh originally had no intention of writing a part two and then this happened. Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think and thanks for reading!!