#earth's defenders never shut up

[0bticeo]

mark grayson | love me like an innocent (and hold me tight)

summary: viltrumites are war-borne. the only love mark grayson has ever known is the crushing weight of his father's fist. you remedy that.

tw. viltrum!mark, mild blood and gore (it's the invincible show, c'mon), *gasp* hand holding, forehead kisses, reader playing with mark's hair. diabetes inducing amounts of fluff, mark being touch starvedTM. reference to this post.

in another universe, mark grayson is kind, softened by the tender touch of his mother. they call him invincible and his name means hope. there’s something like a boyish lilt to his grin. 

the mark grayson you know pulled you out of the rubble he buried you in, bloodied hand tight around your neck, and left you choking on his ultimatum. follow him or die.

and you were tired of cecil’s no-nonsense, find-a-way-to-beat-these-fuckers stare. tired of playing hero for a bunch of ungrateful scumbags, of ceaselessly bloodying your hands. crime is the many-headed hydra. it will never die. you will. 

you took mark’s hand and buried yourself in his arms. earth burned. 

the flames have settled, the only remaining source of heat being mark’s body, slotted against yours. markus sebastian grayson, clad in the cold colours of viltrum, white and gray molding him into a perfect picture of stoicism. you think of marble. glacial. haughty. 

he’s been… hovering, lately. lingering just out of the corner of your eyes, when the only thing you can catch a glimpse of is the lithe silhouette of him, all sharp angles and cold, eyes colder than the winter soil when frost bites and crops wither. you wonder if he trusts you. if he’s watching you, waiting for the inevitable slip up. 

(you hear the viltrumite talk among themselves. they are not kind - their kin never is. general kregg’s words are cutting. you were once earth’s best defender, with the weight of the sun bearing on your shoulders, liquid fire coursing through your veins. supernova, he mocks. do you really think of yourself as one of us?)

so here you are, on a viltrumite ship, arms crossed as you face the vastness of space. it’s cold, the void of it nipping at your skin despite your powers. you let out a heavy sigh. 

earth orbits before you. you hope it’s worth it, its desolation. the slaughter of the weak. you remember cecil’s gaze as you towered over the pentagon, clad in viltrumite colours. the fear. the betrayal. the knowledge that whatever failsafe he planned against you, to keep you contained, was not enough. the smell of his burnt flesh didn’t make your stomach churn.

a noise. a door sliding open, then shut. viltrumites abhor walking. there are no footsteps to recognise people by here. but there is only one person who comes and goes by the stark room they call your quarters. 

he comes to you with bloodied hands and heavy silence, the weight of it blanketing your shoulders. you do not know if you hate him for what he’s made you do. 

(you remember the regent emperor thragg standing before you and asking to prove yourself to the empire. you remember mark suggesting you lay waste on the pentagon, voice detached. you remember burning the GDA to the ground. self immolation at its peak.)

you see him, his reflection next to you, blood splattering his uniform, his cheeks, his hair. he does not speak. stands a mere few inches away from you. he’s warm, you think, you know, you feel. warm enough that you wonder why he burns, what is burning him. 

hesitantly, you brush your fingers against his. he stiffens, shoulders tensing in the prelude to viltrumite ultraviolence. you freeze, make a move to pull away. his fingers curl around yours, wrap tight and pull. 

your breath hitches, head resting on the angel wing of his collarbone, one you’ve traced the contours of one desperate, desperate night three months ago. you, mark, and so much grief you wanted to drown in it. you had never felt that cold in your life. mark had pulled you close, mouth feverish on yours, thumb smearing blood away from the corner of your lip. you’d melted. 

you’ve learned, then, panting and breathless in the wreckage left of the pentagon, hellfire burning, that viltrumites fuck like they fight. it wasn’t soft, the way mark took you and made you his own, it never was. you don’t think you’d want it any other way. you remember the way he looked at you when you cupped his cheek, the way he flinched when your skin touched his own, impossibly soft. he’s never known anything but his father’s fist.

three months later, and you’re a betrayer to your kin, lone human in a viltrumite ship. and one of their strongest warriors has his hands resting on your hips, thumbs brushing hesitantly over the thick material over your uniform, seeking, seeking. you do not understand why he’s drinking you in like he’s been starving for it, like he can only breathe when you’re around. why now? something like a low, broken little noise echoes in your ear. your eyes widen.

“mark? what’s wrong?”

you turn to face him, hand coming up to cradle his cheek. his breath hitches. you watch as he leans into your touch, the sharp angle of his cheek pressing against your palm. it feels like something is clicking. you meet his gaze. gone is the glacier edge to his eyes. they’re soft. infinitely soft, gazing at you as though you’re holding the universe in the palm of your hand. your heart skips a beat. then another.

something like a soft blush dusts his cheekbones, and you watch, bewildered, as he nuzzles your hand, a stray lock of hair brushing your knuckles. 

“mark?” you breathe. 

he glances away, fingers curling around your wrist. a shuddering breath escapes him, warm on your pulse. he feels it, the way your blood jumps under your skin, fluttering softly under his fingertips. you push away his hair from his face, comb the thick dark locks behind his ear. it’s gotten bloody again.

another soft noise.

“keep- keep doing that.”

“what?”

he nuzzles your hand, grip on your hip growing impossibly tighter.

“touching my hair,” he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck, blood and gore and viscera now clinging to you both.

you tut a little and gently push him away, eyeing the mess he’s made. blood drips down from his trembling fists to the floor, drip drip dripping red. your fingers lace with his.

“let’s get us cleaned up, yeah?”

blood drips down the shower. lately, it feels as though the only colours you’ve known are white, grey and red. so much red. too much red- 

mark’s hand cups your cheek. trembling. hesitant. like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he doesn’t, you realise. not with the way viltrumites are, war-bent, destruction-borne. he’s trying. for you. your heart swells in your chest and you smile at him.

“hey.”

his lips curl in a rare smile, chasing the touch of your hands as they busy themselves in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. he’s practically purring under your touch, leaning down to give you better access.

“hey.”

you brush his split knuckles, the bruises blooming over his ribs, the deep gash above his adonis belt, already healing, reduced to a faint, pink line. he doesn’t flinch. only pulls you closer, chin on top of your head. you have to push him away to avoid getting soapy water in your eyes.

“who was the unlucky guy?”

“spawn.”

one of earth’s strongest. one of your colleagues. one of your frien- 

you sigh. inhale, exhale, until the only things that exist are you, mark, and the scalding stream of water trickling down on your skin. until mark pulls you out of the shower and lays you down in bed, barely dry, his head resting on your chest.

you’ve betrayed everything and everyone the moment your heart started beating for him. but here, with the way his lips curl into a half-smile, with the way he trails soft patterns over the small scar on your hip bone, your guilt eases.

“can you… can you play with my hair?” he whispers, burrowing himself in your chest.

you think he wants to crawl in it. make himself at home between your ribs, nestle against your heart and rest his weary head on it.

“yeah.”

in another universe, mark grayson is born soft and cradled by his mother’s warmth. in this universe, debbie grayson is dead, and all the love he ever knew was violence. he’s all sharp edges and cold gazes and bloodied fists, more weapon than human. 

yet, in the quiet of your room, he softens against you, guard lowered enough to let you press your lips to the crown of his hair. 

“let me love you,” you murmur.

he looks up at you, chin on your chest, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them.

“rotten, useless work.”

you press your lips to his.

“not to me.”

(taking the liberty to tag a few ppl, as you guys seemed interested by poor lil mew mew viltrum mark: @gaiasmight @linkwho1 )

[brattyspence]

as per request from @lafilledemiel

bau!reader (maybe!) and she's getting ready for a party or whatever. morgan and spencer are in her bedroom. she's telling them about a douche she met at a bar and while morgan is listening (he's bestie!), spencer is completely zoned out thinking about how pretty she is. :((

tags: fem presenting reader, reader wears makeup, down bad!spencer, derek is here!, never ever proofread

word count: ~650

masterlist

“You guys seriously need to start branching out. There's more to life than sticky old O’Keefes.”

Spencer isn't really listening. He’s sitting awkwardly on the end of your bed, studying the pattern of your old quilt that's long gone threadbare. It's evidence of you in ways he's never seen you before. It's an apartment filled with the scent of your laundry detergent. It's your half empty bottled of perfume and your closet and your shoes by the door.

This, he thinks, must be what it's like.

“What's wrong with sticky?” Derek quips. “No one's touching the floor.”

“You don't want ambiance? A little class, maybe?” You ask, a smile creeping across your face. You're leaning over the bathroom counter, makeup spread everywhere.

Spencer doesn't understand the appeal of nightlife. He doesn't enjoy drinking, nor does he want to socialize, but if you're inviting him, he has feels more than obligated. Especially with the added benefit of whatever ‘pregaming’ at your apartment means.

“O’Keefe’s is a fine establishment,” Derek says. When he rounds the corner into your room this time, he has a drink in each hand. He hands one to Spencer with a suspicious glance before sitting next to him.

“It is absolutely not.” Your words are pointed by the click of a compact. “Sleazy is the word I would use. Just look at their average clientele.”

“So you had a run-in with one bad apple.”

“More than one,” you say, raising your eyebrows.

“So enlighten me,” Derek says, setting his drink down. “Who ruined it for you?”

Spencer, still only half listening, is more concerned with watching the way you line your lips. He's memorizing the each detail of the dress you're wearing, how it sits on your body and shimmers as you lean over the countertop.

“Oh, some douche,” you huff. “It was all going well. You know. The usual small talk. The guy bought me a drink. And then he wanted to talk about work.”

“Hm.” Derek nods.

“So I told him what I do for work. And he tried to suggest that I was lying, because ‘women don't work in that kind of law enforcement’ and 'you're too pretty for that.’ And so naturally I was upset, and then he got really upset that I wouldn't let him take me home.”

You shut the lights off in your bathroom and make your way out, brushing yourself off one final time. As you look down to straighten out your dress, Spencer is keenly aware of the way your hair falls into your face just for a moment before you brush it back into place again.

“So he was a douchebag. They exist everywhere.”

“But there are less of them at nicer bars, Derek. The ratio of scumbag-to-decent person is better.”

Derek laughs to himself, and finishes off the last of his drink.

“You better be right. Otherwise you made pretty boy get all dressed up for nothing.”

As you laugh at the comment, Spencer is busy absorbing the sound rather than the conversation itself. So much so that he doesn't realize he’s expected to reply.

“Earth to Spence,” you say with a smile. “You okay?”

You can nearly see him snap back into gear. He swallows, and sits up a little straighter.

“Oh–Yeah. Sorry. Distracted.”

Within the next few minutes, you're finally heading out. You're only a few steps ahead of Derek and Spencer as you make your way out onto the street, just out of earshot to miss the teasing.

“Come on, man,” Derek smiles, with a heavy pat against Spencer’s shoulder. “You’ve got to be less obvious.”

He could defend himself, of course, but he doesn't, opting instead to nod to himself.

“Oh, come on guys. You walk so slow!” You tease, turning back to close the gap. This time, when you look back at him, you don't miss the hint of blush still across Spencer’s cheeks.

[lazysoulwriter]

obsessed - chris sturniolo.

That's the only word to describe Chris Sturniolo in this relationship. You've never had someone like this before, someone who treats you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. And Chris? He’s never had someone like you either. It’s intoxicating, all-consuming, and neither of you would have it any other way.

You're glued to each other, always. His arms are around you when you’re sitting together, his hand is in yours whenever you’re walking somewhere. If you’re standing still, Chris is pulling you into him. If you’re lying down, his head is on your chest, your stomach, your lap—wherever he can fit himself against you.

And the kissing? Constant. Chris kisses you when you wake up, kisses you before you go to sleep, kisses you when you’re mid-sentence just because he can’t resist. He loves the way your lips feel against his, the way you let out the smallest sigh every time he pulls you in, the way your fingers tighten in his hair like you never want to let go. He kisses you in private, in public, in the backseat of the car when his brothers groan and tell him to get a room. He just laughs, kissing you again, because he doesn’t care who sees. He loves you, and he’s not hiding it.

You laugh together all the time. There’s never a dull moment between you. Chris will say the most ridiculous things just to see you smile, will make faces at you across a crowded room to make you giggle, will tickle your sides just to hear that breathless laugh that makes his heart skip a beat. He loves making you laugh. He loves seeing you happy. And when you’re upset? Chris is the first one there, pulling you into his chest, whispering softly against your hair, rubbing soothing circles against your back.

To him, you're everything. A muse, a goddess, the best thing that's ever happened to him. And he’ll do anything—anything—to keep you happy, to keep you safe. Even if that means facing the overwhelming, most-teenage fandom that follows him and his brothers everywhere. He knows how intense they can be, how protective they are of him, how they analyze every move he makes. But none of it matters when it comes to you.

When the fans start speculating, when the comments get overwhelming, Chris doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t let you see the negativity, doesn’t let it reach you. He’s quick to shut it down, quick to defend you, quick to make it clear that he loves you.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” he tells you one night, his voice firm but soft as he cups your face. “I love you. They don’t get to decide anything about us.”

And you believe him. Because Chris isn’t just obsessed—he’s devoted, he’s protective, and he’s yours.

[annievrse]

imgonnagetyouback

sukuna x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb

"where is he?" and by the tone of his gravelly voice, you know sukuna is angry. but not at you, never at you.

shoko points to the living room of satoru's house; a throng of college kids holler at the sight of being noticed by her.

"oh, shut up," shoko spits at her peers, wiping away the stray tear that rolls down your cheek. you look up at your ex-boyfriend, eyes sad and dried tears painting your cheeks.

his expression morphs into a snarl. "i'm gonna kill him."

"kuna," you mumble, grabbing his hand as he passes. stopping, he clenches his jaw. "you don't need to defend my honour anymore. i was stupid enough to get involved with him. i'll handle it."

sukuna clicks his tongue. he warned you about naoya zenin long before you even met the man. but despite the break-up being mutual, you felt you needed to punish yourself for letting go of someone who'd move heaven and earth for you. so, in bitterness, you decided to get back at sukuna (and yourself) by going out with naoya.

instead, naoya was worse than sukuna forewarned. your ex-boyfriend wasn't going to tell you, 'i told you so,' because he felt he deserved to see you with him. sukuna deserved to be punished for letting you go.

"i'm not above begging if it means i can make him unrecognisable, baby."

you let out a puff of air close to a laugh and shake your head. shoko gives you a look, one that you know well. it doesn't take much for you to change your mind. sukuna does not beg. the gleam in his eye does nothing but make you roll your eyes and succumb.

"fine," you huff. "make it quick."

sukuna's tongue pokes the inside of his cheek while his lips pull into a smile. "glad to be of service."

he leans down to kiss the top of your head and mumbles something incoherent against your hair — but you know exactly what he said. you grab his tricep and give it a squeeze. sukuna lowers his face before yours, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips.

"have fun," you tease, pressing your mouth to his cheek.

"i always do." and then he's gone, glancing over his shoulder to wink at you.

"what am i gonna do with him?" you sigh, watching sukuna shove through the crowd to reach naoya.

shoko says nothing. she clutches your hand between hers and shrugs. for the first time in her life, she has no witty response.

and at the first roar of both encouragement and surprise from your fellow college kids, you smile. shoko pulls you up to stand.

"you two are made for each other," shoko mumbles, watching the proud grin on your face. you barely hear her over the oohs of the crowd, and you know he's making you proud.

[trexiejan]

Friendly reminder that DC and Dickbabs writers are gaslighting you into thinking Dickbabs are childhood sweethearts that are always in love with each other since day 1.

Dickbabs is the most superficial manufactured by retcons ship.

Babs was deaged for this crap to work.

Here is Original Barbara Gordon working as a congresswoman in the Senate when Dick was just the little kid Robin.

She was much closer to Bruce and Clark's age than Dick's.

Barbara refers to Dick as a "kid" and "little brother.

Dick had a small puppy crush on her but it was seen as a precocious crush. It was controversial when they first kiss (to make Dick shut up) because it involved a grown ass woman kissing a teenager.

Dickbabs was hated the same way modern Brucebabs is hated today.

Even the writer of that book admitted he never intended for them to become a couple.

Babs was more into older guys.

- she was viewed as an equal love interest to Batman

- she went out on a date with Superman

- then got engaged to her coworker Jason Bard.

Dickbabs shippers always try to deny that Babs was deaged and her history was altered for dickbabs in an effort to defend their ship.

They say it's not true because according to them Babs has been deaged long before dickbabs became a couple.

Here's the thing though:

Babs has been deaged twice.

Just because she wasn't deaged to be with Dick in her 1st deaging doesn't change the fact that she was deaged to be the same age as him in her 2nd deaging which happened in dickbabs content.

The 1st time she was deaged was in Crisis on Infinite Earths, it was so Jim could be younger but they only decreased her age slightly because she's still written as older than Dick, here is a panel from Secret Origins #20 that was published in 1986 exactly 1 year after she was first deaged in Crisis on infinite earths (1985) she said Dick is too young for her and that batman is always the one on her mind. So Dickbabs during this time still couldn't work because they still have that age gap and Babs was still into Bruce.

The 2nd time she was deaged is in dickbabs comics and tv shows where she was finally made the same age as Dick so dickbabs can finally work as a romantic pairing.

Instead of being older, she's now written as a part of Dick's generation.

From a congresswoman to a young girl who went to highschool prom with Dick.

Even Tom Taylor had the two first meet when they were young little kids so he can also portray them as childhood sweethearts in his run.

Tom Taylor claims Barbara still has a law degree but isn't it sad how instead of using that degree to find an actual job, she wasted her time following Dick around like a dog in Bludhaven ?

She has no job of her own, no friends of her own, no hobbies of her own outside of Dick.

She's just Dick's clingy lovesick girlfriend who is a total standby for him in his solo books.

Dickbabs shippers who deny this and get mad at people who point this out are the people who don't care about Barbara Gordon as an individual.

They don't care that Barbara lost her PHD degree, lost her own career, lost her own agency, lost her history, lost her self identity for the sake of shipping.

Their only concern is defending dickbabs and making it look better.

Because if they truly like Barbara separately from Dick, all these valid anti-dickbabs criticisms wouldn't bother them.

What's even funnier is that they are the very same people who accuse Starfire of being reduced into Dick's love interest despite the fact that Starfire hasn't been in a relationship with Dick in the comics for 20+ years due to the fact that dickkory's history was ignored and erased in favor of dickbabs. NASTY HYPOCRITES.

At least Starfire wasn't deaged to fit Dick and you can never see Starfire following Dick around like a dog in his solo books 💀

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

"I'm angry at you" Tim forces out.

It's been a long time coming, the words that have been circling his mind for years. Rotting the back of his throat.

Jason is Bruce's son in a way that he will never be. It's just a simple fact.

Maybe he could have picked a different time maybe a family dinner wasn't the place, but he was the one that spent year's of his life having to dodge bullets and murder attempts. He had to spend month's in physical therapy after the tower.

The place he felt safe was ripped away because Jason who is traumatized he hasn't forgot that fact, decided to hunt him down and hurt him.

Maybe Robin isn't a child, but Tim Drake was.

He turns to Bruce who's face is of course blank he's the one who wants Jason here yet not an emotion in sight.

Turns back to look Jason in the eye the man who's sitting next to Damian sometimes he wonders if Alfred does it on purpose a way to remind Tim that his murderers will always have something he doesn't.

He will look him in the eye he will not falter today.

"I was a child, I should have never been the exception to your rule. Say what you will about Robin being something else but you didn't care about Robin you cared it was me"

Silence it's funny how comforting it can be.

"I should not have to sit at the same table as two of my attempted murderers and pretend that it's ok. You are both traumatized I understand that but it will never be an excuse for traumatizing me. I see the Red hood and Robin in my nightmares."

He turns to look at Dick who as always is to the right of him once again pointing to Alfred doing this seating on purpose.

"You are a hypocrite who has never shut up about drying but goes out his way to kill another Robin."

He sees Alfred step forward closer to Bruce he wonders what the point is will he say anything, not likely but why move he almost asks yet if he doesn't finish he never will.

"This was your home first it still is, but I have bled and given more than you will ever know to secure my place here. So Bruce I do not ever want to partnered with either one of them in the field. You or Dick are the only options. You will not argue with me this is me laying my boundaries which I am entitled to."

He stares at Alfred loosing the blank look to let some of the anger out. He wants him to know.

"You will also never again force me to sit at a dinner table across from them again. Whatever British Passive-Aggressive gesture this is. You have no right to do. I will never forgive you for my birthday."

Dick goes to interrupt he doesn't let him.

"Bruce and Alfred have my full permission to discuss the psychological torture they put me through as my birthday present. But from now on none of you get to treat me as if I am some replacement or placeholder. I am a person with feelings, I will not be treated like a doormat."

He makes eye contact with each of them Alfred, Bruce, Jason and Damian.

Before turning to Dick for the last part.

"You are the only person here who has never deliberately hurt me, your my brother and I love you. I want to spend more time with you and I am specifically requesting that you come with me when I leave this table. We can get dinner or hang out but I need you to leave with me."

----------

Bruce is speechless.

How did he do this, his child is sitting at his table trembling and he can't move.

His child who just spent ten minutes defending himself and he is doing nothing.

Dick interrupts what he can admit is a pity party.

"Your my brother, I will happily follow you to the ends of the earth and if we leave now we can go to the Thai place that you like."

He can't let them leave he has to say something.

Tell Tim that he loves him, that he can fix this that this isn't the end. That it matters but before he can there gone.

His boys leave.

His precious sons, one loyal to a fault and one hurt beyond measure and what did he do nothing.

What he always does nothing.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

The Tennis Players and The Girl They’re Always With

✰ art donaldson x f!reader & slight patrick zwieg x f!reader

✰ word count: 1.4k

✰ summary: friends to lovers with your favorite tennis stars.

✰ warnings: language, a heated kiss that turns into more, allusions to smut, minors dni, 18+, art is a simp and has the energy of a kicked puppy while patrick is the cockiest mf on earth.

the people have spoken, and so has my puss...

maybe a part 2???

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ art donaldson m.list

✰ not my gif, credits to owner.

The concrete under your legs was still warm from the summer sun, even though you were sitting in the shade. Tuesday’s were always practice days for Art and Patrick. And though you were friends with your tennis stars, you never indulged in the sport itself. 

Rhythmic beats of the tennis ball ricocheting off the rackets flooded your ears as you’re face down in your notes. Stanford was a dream come true, especially with one of your best friends attending with you, but when Patrick came into town, so did his reckless behavior. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You’ve known the boys since high school, their boarding school just down the street. It wasn’t hard to find them around town, they always seemed to be everywhere you were at the same time as you. When the talk of a house party made its way through town, the three of you ended up talking for hours. 

Once you established your friendship, you made sure to be at both their tennis matches, your enthusiasm for your friends was unmatched. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Occasionally, you would look up towards the duo, their ability to perfectly match each other amazes you, even now. It wasn’t long before they began to pack it up for the day, approaching you with sweat on their skin, Patrick wipes his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, “Wanna go grab a bite? I’m starving, fuck.” You quickly shove your notebook in your bag before reaching your hands up, Art and Patrick each grabbing a hand to pull you up. 

“Sure,” you dust off your clothes, “but you guys need to shower or something. You both smell awful.” You begin to walk towards the fence door when you feel warmth and moisture wrap around you. Art and Patrick have entrapped you in a hug, their stink overwhelming your senses. A laugh erupts from your chest while you try to push them off, “Let go!” They finally peel off of you with a laugh, “You guys suck. Maybe I don’t want to go get dinner with you.”

“It was Patrick’s idea,” Art defends himself, and you can’t help but laugh at how easy it was for Art to confess. He’s always been so quick to make sure you’re happy, even if you’re joking. Whether it be making sure you were feeling okay or holding the door open for you, Art was always on top of it. 

Patrick shoves Art in response before you three head over to Art’s dorm. Whenever Patrick was in town, he always stayed at Art’s because his roommate decided to drop out of school with no warning; and honestly, it made life easier. You could stay over whenever you wanted, and Patrick could have his own bed whenever he wanted to visit. 

Art pushes open the door, a wave of cool air hits your cheeks, and you let out a sigh of relief. You make a b-line towards the bed and lay down before you yell out to the pair, “Hurry up, I’m starving.” Shutting your eyes as you bask in the feeling of the mattress. 

The blond is the first to head into the bathroom and freshen up, the sound of water hitting the shower floor is heard throughout the small room. You can feel Patrick grab both of your ankles before lifting them and placing them on his lap as he sits down next to you. He leans his back against the wall before he looks down at you, “You know Art is in love with you, right?”

Your eyes snap open, Patrick’s question catching you off guard. You let out a small giggle, “What?” There’s no way he’s serious. 

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be dumb,” his hand still resting on your ankle, “it’s painful how hard he sucks up to you. And that look in his eyes? That’s something more than a friendship.” 

This makes you think about all the times you’ve had a conversation with Art, you’re trying to understand where Patrick is coming from. But all you do is draw a blank. “First of all, I have no idea what you’re talking about, you’re delusional. And two, Art just cares, like any friend should. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

The brunette throws his head back in disbelief, “I bet that if you asked, he would tell you everything. He’d do anything for you.” 

You sit up and laugh, “No fucking way–.” You’re cut off by Art opening the door, his towel hanging low on his torso, water beads still falling down his chest. The silence is deafening as you and Patrick stare at him. 

Art can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as his eyes lay on the sight of you sitting so close to Patrick, that you feel resting on his lap. His cheeks begin to warm, “What?” 

The only thing that’s on your mind is the conversation you had with Patrick before Art’s interruption. Your brain can’t form words, but Patrick is quick on his feet like he always is. “Nothing,” he responds, short and sweet, before he hops off the bed and swiftly enters the bathroom, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence. 

You awkwardly find some stray piece of thread to play with as Art reaches for the clothes in his dresser. Once his back faces you, you look up at him, the muscles in his shoulders accentuating with each slight movement. 

An unexplainable wave of adrenaline appears in your mind, you need to know if Patrick was right. 

Pushing yourself off the twin mattress, you walk over to Art as soon as he turns around. “You’ll tell me if I’m reading this wrong, right?” The air around you is warmer than you remembered. He says nothing but nods his head. The sudden seriousness in your voice catches his attention, his whole being focused on you. “How long have you been in love with me?” 

Art’s eyes widen at your question, his heart is pounding and he can’t find the words to answer. His lack of response was enough to shut you down completely. Your eyes shut in frustration, “I’m so sorry, that was a stupid question.” 

And as usual, Art is quick to ease your worries. “Hey,” he holds you by your waist, “don’t be sorry.” 

All you feel is embarrassment in this moment, “Fuck, I just ruined this, didn’t I?” 

He huffs out a small laugh before pulling you in to capture you in a kiss. His skin is still warm from his shower, and suddenly, you melt into it. Your hands reach up to hold the sides of his face, keeping him in place as his touch entrances you. 

Without you realizing it, you begin to move as Art is leading you towards the wall, pushing you against it. The kiss quickly begins to carry a wave of lust behind it, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth at the eagerness. 

A hand leaves his face, to reach behind him and pull him in impossibly closer as Art’s arms trap you in. When his mouth leaves yours, you whine, but as soon as he ducks his head into your neck and begins to suck on the supple skin there, you don’t complain. 

His damp hair is tickling your cheeks, as a louder moan leaves your lips. He feels too good, and if you don’t feel more of him soon, you think you’ll die. 

Pushing Art off of you, his face flashes a look of sadness before you push him onto the bed. You stand in front of him, his towel falling further down his torso as he spreads his legs, a cocky smirk on his face. You’re just about to climb on top of him when the sound of the bathroom door opens, and suddenly fear attacks your senses. 

There Patrick stood, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes fell on you two. Looking back at Art, he’s in the same boat as you. You can tell he’s embarrassed, and it kills you. You’ve never liked seeing Art upset, it always struck a chord in you to help him. So now, you think fast, and the words that come out of your mouth are unexplainable. 

“Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to join?”

✰ author's note: holy cow i need the both of them so bad it's criminal. the results of my poll are so funny, EVERYONE LOVES ART DONALDSON. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog!! ok, byeeee!!!

[muniimyg]

1: the confession // series m.list

note: been daydreaming abt this jk... enj <3

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar @jkslvsnella @thekookiecorner @parkinglot-nights @seagulljk

fic taglist: @peterstarkchrishiddleston

//

The library is your favourite place. 

At least, that is until your predictable love for it comes to a disadvantage. May your tranquil moments alone rest in peace as your friends corner and gaslight you to leaving your sanctuary. Sometimes, it’s for parties. Other times, it’s for something stupid like driving to the next town to watch a movie at their theatre because their theatre chairs recline better. 

You won’t have it this time. 

No way. You have so much work to do!

"Oh, come on! Please, ___?” Hobi begs. “Come tonight! It'll be fun!" Suddenly, he’s clinging to your arm, making it harder for you to ignore him. You try shaking him off, but he pouts at you and clings on even tighter. 

“Hobi,” you whine. “Go to the party if you wanna go. Jimin said he’d meet you there! And Nam Joon, and Taehyung, Jin, and even Yoongi!” 

“But I want you to come!” He cries. “I need someone to keep count of my drinks—”

“Use a marker and tally it on your arm.”

“But then what if I need to throw up—”

“Then throw up.”

“... Jungkook will be there!”

You blink at him. 

“So?”

Hobi lets go of your arm and raises a brow at you. “What do you mean so? Isn't he your boyfriend?”

His accusation has you tongue-tied. This is the first time you’ve ever heard such an absurd thing! Jungkook became a part of the friendgroup after you. He’s the newbie. Actually, he has a whole other set of friends aside from you guys. Why? Because he’s cool. That’s it. Everyone on campus knows him and truth be told; he deserves his hype. He’s good-looking, kind, and a little weird (in a good way). He’s funny and smart (but not in an obnoxious way)... He’s just… Kind of good at everything? It intimidates you and often leaves you daydreaming. 

Come to think of it, everything happens by coincidence. Yours and his lectures usually start and end around the same time. Not to mention that he also loves the library! He usually walks you home after your study sessions. But, yeah… Aside from these things—you and Jungkook aren’t actually that close.

“W-what? I’m not dating Jungkook! Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” you ask, careful not to sound too noisy. 

Hobi shakes his head. “Girlfriend? Yeah… You.”

Your eyes widen.

In a panic, you hiss at Hobi. “Don’t start rumours! That’s embarrassing for him to be associated with me—”

“Oh shut up,” Hobi laughs. “Do not get all insecure and pick me when the campus crush has literally been drooling over the past few weeks. Everybody knows. Everybody talks about it! Besides, they talk about him being all lovestruck—not you! So, spill it. What did you do, huh? Did you manifest it or some shit—”

“With all the time I spend in class, work, and the library… You think I have time to manifest?” you chuckle at him, ultimately trying to dismiss his suspicion. 

Hobi rolls his eyes at you. 

“For someone who reads fanfics and book loads of romance stories… You’re dense as fuck.”

Tilting your head at him, you try to find the words to defend yourself and fail. 

He’s right. 

You are dense. 

But that never hurt anyone before… So why does it matter?

“Earth to ___?” Hobi waves his hands to your face. You blink, brushing your thoughts away. Offering him a tired smile, he looks at you weirdly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you exhale. “Why?”

“You’re blushing like crazy,” he teases, poking your cheek. Your hands fly to your cheeks. He’s right. They feel warm and the sudden embarrassment just made you feel even more flustered. Then, he nudges you. 

“Get it together!” Hobi mutters, “Your boyfriend is coming!"

Turning your head, you see Jungkook making his way through the doors. He has his backpack on one shoulder and his eyes glued to his phone. Like muscle memory, he turns his heels and walks toward your direction. 

“Oh my god,” you hit Hobi’s arm. “Why did you plant these thoughts when he’s literally—”

“Plant thoughts? Babes, it’s reality. Helllooooo?” Hobi sings, tauntingly. 

You pout at him, unable to take this lighthearted. 

Then, before you know it, Jungkook approaches you. 

He pulls the seat next to you out and settles in. After offering a fist bump to Hobi, he quickly leans his body over and places his hand on your knee. He’s always done this but why was it suddenly so different now? Was it always like this and you never noticed until now? Until Hobi…

Wow… 

“Hey, you.” Jungkook greets you warmly.

“... H-hi.”

He gives you a weird look. You avoid his eyes in return. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Why aren’t you packed up yet? Aren't we going to the party?”

Jungkook eyes your spread of notes on the table. You clunch your iPad closer to you and shrug. “We? It’s you. Aren’t you going to the party?”

Jungkook returns your question with a grin. “No. Us. You, specifically. You, especially.”

“Yeah, ___!” Hobi chimes cheekily. “Aren’t you going to the party?”

Hesitantly, you shake your head. 

“N-no… I have too much work to do. Here! I’ll just—” you pause your sentence and reach for Hobi’s arm. Pushing his sleeve up, you take the sharpie from your pencil case and write on his arm. 

If piss drunk, please return to ___. 

(xxx) xxx-xxxx <3

Hobi reads it sideways and yanks his arm back. 

“I hate you,” he utters. With laser eyes, he glares at Jungkook. “Tell her you’re coming to the party. Drag her to come! She’s always here! Homework can wait for tomorrow!”

Jungkook exchanges looks with you. With a soft gaze, he shrugs and turns to Hobi. 

“She doesn’t wanna go.”

Hobi groans. 

“Fine. Let’s go. Let’s leave—”

“I’m staying,” Jungkook says calmly. "She's not going... Neither am I."

He picks his backpack up from the ground and begins to unzip it. Taking out his notes and laptop, he looks up and smiles at Hobi. “Can I see your arm?”

Huffing, Hobi shows Jungkook your note. As Hobi rambles on and on about how you and Jungkook are party poopers, Jungkook takes your Sharpie and crosses your number out. 

If piss drunk, please return to ___. Jungkook

(xxx) xxx-xxxx <3

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

For the second time tonight, Hobi reads his arm sideways and yanks it back. He squints at the unfamiliar number. 

“Why’d you cross her number out? Whose number is this?” Hobi asks. 

“Mine,” Jungkook states, smiling at the correction. “Call me if you need anything.”

“What? Why?”

Jungkook blinks. “I’m not really crazy about ___’s number being on your arm for other guys to have and call her with.”

Hobi’s mouth drops. He slowly turns to you and gulps. Blinking at you slowly, he gives you crazy eyes. “You can not be this dense, ___. Jungkook is literally ripping me into shreds in his head right now—”

You laugh.

“Go. Have fun! Call me if you need anything.”

Hobi turns to Jungkook. 

Jungkook smiles at him sweetly with his eyes closed. He shakes his head slowly and wiggles his finger at him. “Don’t call her.”

With that, Hobi grumbles a few exchanges before packing his stuff up. He waves goodbye and tells you that you’re lame one last time. You agree with him and wave him goodbye. As he leaves, Jungkook moves his chair closer to you. 

“So… Same schedule? Study until 9PM and then I walk you home? Or are you hungry tonight? Maybe we can wrap this up by 7:30PM and grab a bite to eat? I know a really good burger spot just up campus—why’d you do that?”

Your body stiffens.

“Do what?”

Jungkook eyes your chair distance. 

“You moved away.”

What the heck… How did he even notice? It’s not like you moved across the table! You just moved like… Half an inch. 

“No, I didn’t,” you deny. “But yeah… Sure! I’ve been craving a good burger with extra cheese—what are you doing?”

“I’m moving closer to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you lied to my face and moved away.”

“N-no!” 

Jungkook inches his face closer to yours. He boops your nose and scrunches his. “You sniff whenever you lie. Did you know that?”

“N-no…”

“Now you do.”

For the first time ever… You lose your breath. It’s like you forgot how to breathe. He’s so close to you. His eyes are so doey, you’re literally getting lost in them. The scar he has on his left cheek… You can see it so clearly—the detail of how his skin healed and all. His hair is brushing above his eyebrows and you can’t help but realize how much you like the way it falls on his face. He’s… Cute?

Oh god. 

“D-dont do that—uhh—” You move away from him. This time, there’s an obvious space between you two. Jungkook straightens his posture, completely confused by your burst of emotion. It’s… Conflicting? He swears you two were about to kiss… Now, what’s going on?

“___? What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks with a gentle tone. 

You turn away and shove your notes to your face. Mumbling into the paper, you tell him what’s on your mind. “Everyone thinks you have a crush on me and it’s embarrassing.”

Jungkook doesn’t hear you well. 

“Say that again,” he requests. Without warning, he takes the paper from your hands, leaving you to face him. “Don’t act all cute. What is it?”

You stay silent and contemplate.

Was this worth saying? Was this worth addressing? Would it change anything between you two after? What about the burgers? You’ve been craving a cheesy burger like crazy—

“It’s fine if you don’t feel comfortable. You can tell me later or never. I don’t mean to be pushy—”

Then, you blurt it out. 

“Everyone thinks you have a crush on me… Or something.” 

Jungkook doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t hold his breath. 

He doesn’t deny it. 

“I do have a crush on you.”

Your throat feels dry. What?! Has he lost his mind?

“W-what? You can’t j-just—”

Jungkook tilts his head and pouts. 

“I don’t really understand why I should deny it. Why should I lie? Why should I make an excuse? This is how I feel. You just found out earlier than the confession… I guess this is it though, right?” He laughs. 

You hit his chest. 

“This isn’t funny!”

“Why can’t it be funny?” Jungkook laughs even harder. He catches your wrist and holds you still. “Doesn’t it make you laugh? That everybody on campus watched me wait outside your classes every day for almost 3 months… That everybody waits on me to go to parties but I don’t show up because I rather walk you home and stay home… That everybody on campus watched me enter this goddamn library of a snoozefest—”

“Hey! I like it here.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes at you. “I like you. That’s why I’m here.”

“I… I thought you wanted to study.”

Jungkook laughs even louder, earning a few hushes from others nearby. He groans, throwing his head back. “I can’t even fucking laugh in here without getting in trouble. Why the hell would I like this place?”

“... To study!”

“To be with you.” 

You shut up. 

No words, no thoughts, no feelings. 

Okay…

Feelings. Lots of them. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so overwhelmed,” Jungkook murmurs, leaning his head against your shoulders. “I thought you knew. I thought you figured it out by now. I wasn't exactly discrete."

You sit still, not knowing if you should move or let him settle in. Before you can decide, he sits himself up and grabs your hand. He squeezes it tightly and brings it to his lips. Kissing your hand, he looks at you. 

“Doesn’t matter if you’re dense. Doesn’t matter if you don’t know how you feel right now. I’ll win you over… You’ll fold."

You yank your hand away from him. In response, he leans over and kisses the side of your head instead. You gasp, but your cheeks blush. Quickly, you cover your face with your hands. He laughs heartily, tugging you close to him. You bury your face in his chest and groan at the sinking feeling of wanting to be anywhere but here. This was humiliating!

And just when you think it can't get any worse, Jungkook wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight. As he pats your back, he murmurs—

"You're falling for me already, aren't you?"

[grimmsbride]

false heroics …. ! ₊ཾִ ᖫྀ ⁣⁣.

mohawk! & headcap! mark ╲ the instructions were to fight the two invincible variants, not fuck them you silly, silly girl.

𖥔 ࣪˖ tags⠀⎯ sex in mid air | fear kink | dub-con(? reader is into everything this is just incase) | manhandling | overstimulation | multiple orgasms | threesome | short little blurb | degradation | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ author’s notes ⠀⎯ i made a post about this idea like weeks ago, and just made a silly little blurb. also if you aren’t sure who headcap mark is, it’s the finest one that fought oliver and cracked his fucking shoulders just to turn me on. please enjoy.

You were a hero, someone people looked up to during their time of need. There eyes would simply focus on the sky, watching you soar by and knowing everything would be alright. You had that much of an effect on people. So much responsibility weighing on your shoulders, mistakes weren’t something you could afford.

So, why exactly, were you committing the biggest one of your entire career. Sorry, not one, but two.

Why on Earth instead of defending your city against its sudden invaders, were you getting completely ruined by not one— but two of them.

All above the wrecked streets they left behind.

“Hey, hey— where are you looking!?” The voice tugged you from your mind, dissipating as complete ecstasy shrouded your thoughts. The words felt so far away but close all the same, cloudy judgment no longer able to comprehend a thing.

Another voice came, one in the form of a chuckle; detailing their amusement in the most condescending manner.

“What a fucked out mess, can’t even think straight can you— little miss hero?”

The holder of such tone, Mohawk!Mark stared at you with several emotions swirling in that crazed gaze. He watched the way you withered around him, how each time his hips moved you were babbling incoherent sentences and moans that dripped with honey. With each push your body was jerking, legs threatening to close— but never budging.

Curtesy of the other Invincible flush behind you, his hands tight on your chubby thighs, spreading you for all the world to see. Headcap!Mark’s chin rested on your shoulder, watching the way your pussy so desperately sucked up his variant’s dick, squelching with each thrust, a sound that combined with the wind passing by the three of you.

Just a second ago the two intended to kill you, even briefly fighting over who got to do it. But in some sort of miracle — whether for you or them — the two quickly realized what a waste it would be.

Deciding the best course of action was this. Angstrom’s wishes could wait after their little fun.

“Mm—!” Tears pricked at your eyes from both the air and pleasure, screwing shut as your hands clenched and unclenched. You hadn’t a clue how long this has been going on, how many thrusts, how many times you’ve gushed around his dick. Your focus was completely gone, a mess of a hero; a disappointment who seemed to only think with what’s between her legs.

But you didn’t care. You didn’t need to think right now, didn’t need to focus on a thing but how good you were feeling. And it truly did feel amazing. Mohawk!Mark’s shaft dragged across your velvety walls so pleasantly, veins pulsing inside you. He was pushing deep, tip striking against that special spot at the most perfect angle; your already blurry vision suddenly being dotted with black spots with each hit.

“Fu—fuck.. please, please—!”

Pretty, desperate whines escaped your lips in a wet gasp, the two men eating it up entirely. Headcap!Mark carefully released one of your legs, instead reaching over for your face. Taking your cheeks within his fingers, the man turned you to face his half-masked features.

“Is this really one of Earth’s best heroes? Hm.. I’m starting to feel bad.” He watched the way your eyes opened, gaze glossed and full with pleasure filled tears. Such a sight had him grinning, thumb lowering to your lips and rubbing the area roughly.

“Come on, push us off, don’t you have a city to protect?”

A particularly hard thrust caused you to nearly shriek, shaking and struggling to find the response to his question.

“Y—you, I.. can’t..”

“You, I, can’t—“ Your attention was stolen from the Invincible behind you to the one infront of you, spotting that shit-eating grin capturing his lips as he mocked you.

“Use your words, or is the only thing that whorish brain can come up with are moans?”

“Fu..fuck, you—!”

You shuddered at the way their laughter surrounded you, vibrating against your already weak body.

“You already are, miss hero.”

“And you’re enjoying every second of it.”

You suddenly felt Mohawk!Mark grab your discarded thigh, pushing even closer as he drilled into you. You hadn’t a clue how he was fucking you so well in the air, but the explanation was quickly added to the growing list of your least worries. Your head tossed back against Headcap!Mark’s shoulder, whimpering as your pussy clenched so tightly.

The Invincible infront of you groaned, fingers digging into your flesh as he rutted into your aching body. That coil inside your stomach tightened, a familiar pressure building as hurried breaths dragged off your tongue.

With one final thrust you were coming undone, coating his lower half in your arousal, a flash of white even invading your vision.

You were truly thankful their hold on you was pretty tight, given how your body slumped from the exhaustion.

Soft pants escaped, chest rising and slowly falling as you sucked up the air. Your eyes closed in hopes of relaxing for a moment, only to feel familiar fingers clench your cheeks once again, stealing your attention back.

You peeked slowly, spotting the way Headcap!Mark’s lips pulled into a splitting grin. His body was close, bulge rubbing against your ass, aching for attention.

“Don’t pass out on us just yet. It’s my turn, after all.”

[team7-headquarter]

I genuinely think any ship within the og Team 7 students would make sense. There're 0 reasons to fight about it, they're all just as justified.

Naruto was obsessed for yeeeeeaaaars with his teammates. He looked at them like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky for him. Sasuke and Sakura were the only boy and girl on Earth, lol.

Sasuke and Sakura were used to being cruel to put some distance between them and the world. Defense mechanism or not, Naruto was maybe the only person in the entire world that would never eat that up. He knew feeling lonely, he knew being hurt, he knew to feel useless... Fuck that, for him, there would never be as someone as awesome as his teammates.

His most important promise in life was to save Sasuke, for both his, Sakura's and his own sake.

In return, Sasuke and Sakura would never shut up about him either. His their saviour, their hero, their sun and the boy fills their lives with joy.

That's why any ship with him works!

For Sakura, it's that there was textual romantic tension with both of them for the entire series. Their chemistry and backstory were intentionally written. That Kishimoto decided on the canon ships in the end, okay, but any of them could have worked. If you can't feel the love between them, blame the writing and not the characters, 'cause it was clear that Kishimoto wanted people to think of them as a love triangle for some time.

Since the genin days, she was their it girl. No one touches Sakura, no one hurts Sakura, blah blah blah. In exchange, even when she wasn't strong enough, she'd use herself as a shield for them. It makes no sense, but she'd jump between any attack and them at any moment. She would run to them when they have lost their mind, not even scared of them as much as she was scared for them.

She defended both of them when other people criticized them. She also lost faith and tried to manipulate them or kill them at some point out of pure desperation of keeping one of them alive. She was the one left behind time and time again, they are her whole reason to be who she is and to be a medic nin. All she ever wanted was to walk alongside them, not behind them.

Again, it works.

With Sasuke is so easy.

Naruto and Sakura were obsessed with him to the point of following him to the literal almost end of the world. The definition of hatred being actually love, because they'd be at each other's throats about it. Their goal in life? Sasuke. The person they cried about at night? Sasuke. What would they wish upon a star? For Sasuke to come back.

And Sasuke couldn't stop thinking about them. In his mind, they were always there. They'd follow him, almost haunt him. They were annoying and rude and ignorant, they were stupid, weak even, he loved them so much that he convinced himself he needed to kill them, cut their bonds.

They harbor endless love for him and with time, he came to understand that's just how they were and accept it.

The loyal 12 years old that would rather take the attacks himself than let his teammates be in any type of danger, did a full cycle and came to be the devoted man that vowed to atone for his mistakes and return to them one day.

If they gave themselves freely to him and almost without a reason, Sasuke gave himself back with all the reasons in the world.

Do I even have to explain why narusasusaku works too or—????

Anyway.

I could never fight over what's the better ship when I know they are all insane about each other.

[motherlvr]

can you write something grumpy!42miles x sunshine!reader? where he’s always kinda mean but cares about her but they end up together

this prompt is so cute tysm for the req!!

Word count: About 1,600

Pairing: Grumpy Earth-42! Miles Morales x Sunshine! f! reader

Summary: The line between just classmates and something more is thin. Miles and You seemed to be walking that line.

Warnings: (begrudgingly) friends to lovers, he's a bit mean, fluff, minimal cursing, classmates to lovers, pure fluff, cannot contain the fluff, reader is a little slow, this is short and cute, spanish grammar is not my strong suit

A/N: if i haven't gotten to your request yet, its still a wip but will be posted soon!

_________

You were boisterously laughing. Obnoxiously, even. The guy’s joke wasn’t even that funny.

Miles called your name out with an aggravated tone,

"Would it kill you to shut up for a second?"

You promptly responded, "Would it kill you to lighten up for once?"

He regrets not skipping this class.

That was partially a lie. In reality, he didn’t care for this class at all. He only came to see you. You were one of the few people who put up with him.

Miles and you always sat together during class. "Unassigned assigned seats", you'd call it. But that’s all you were. Seat partners. That was the way it was, and the way it would stay. And he was fine with that, at least he tried to convince himself.

The next day, the seat next to Miles was empty. It hasn’t been empty since the first day you met.

If you asked Miles how you both met, he’d say you forced your way into his life. However, you’d say that you saw through his “cold guy” facade and he opened up his heart to you. He was a good guy if you had the patience. That was only one of the many things he admired about you. Your optimism.

He saw you across the room. You were sitting with someone else. A guy. What was his name again? Miles couldn't recall. That was how irrelevant he was to Miles.

"Is this seat taken?" Miles looked up to the voice that had spoken, hoping it was somehow you. However, as he glanced up, an unfamiliar face was staring at him.

"Nah." He muttered, not sparing her another look.

She introduced herself and told Miles her name, but he wasn't listening. He was listening to your laugh. How could he not? Your laugh was practically drowning out every other voice in the room. At least, that’s how he perceived it.

You were giggling at whatever the guy next to you said. But this time, he wished it was him making you laugh. That guy didn't deserve to hear you laugh, or see you smile.

He couldn't stand your laugh unless he was the cause of it. Miles didn’t pay attention to the lesson that day. He was occupied staring daggers into your back. Yet you never noticed.

You sat next to Miles the day after, as usual. It was an unspoken agreement, and you had broken it the day prior.

Immediately as you sat down, Miles started interrogating you.

"You left me with some random girl to go flirt with that moron? He's a dick." He scoffed at you, nodding his head towards the guy that you left him for yesterday.

Right, like you're not. You thought. "He's really not, he's a good guy!" You defended him and continued, "Plus, your partner was super smart. She was probably more help than I could’ve been.”

"Ella no es tú. What else can I say, ma?" Miles casually said.

You tried to hide your grin but failed as a smile spread across your face. The corner of his lip curled in a small smirk. If you blinked, you would have missed it.

"I’m sorry for 'leaving you', Miles. But don’t worry, I prefer you over him anyway." You smiled brightly at him. And for a second, his stoic heart gleamed.

"I wasn't worried." He grumbled.

"You sure? I mean, whatever you say.” You grinned amusedly at him.

The rest of the class period followed as usual. But this time, before the bell rang, Miles bottled up his dignity to ask you, "Ay ma, wanna hang out after school?"

You raised a skeptical brow at his unusual behavior, "What, you starting to like me now? I thought you couldn't tolerate me." You probed.

Oblivious to you, he does more than just tolerate you. He was growing fond of your presence. He was starting to miss the sound of your giggle echoing within the room when he wasn’t around you.

But he couldn't find the courage to tell you just yet. Instead, he murmured, "I can tolerate you. Out of most of these people in here, anyway."

"I'm kidding. Yeah, I'm down, Miles." You teased him and agreed.

What you didn't know is that your initial question wasn't very far from the truth.

The school day couldn’t have passed any slower. If you were being honest, you were eagerly anticipating spending more time with Miles out of school.

The final bell of the day rang, and Miles held up to his side of the agreement. He met up with you after school.

Walking side-by-side, you asked, "What've you got planned for us today, Miles? You gonna wine and dine me?" you winked at him.

"Maybe another day, mami." He cracked a slight grin as he responded, fond of your antics.

"I'll hold you to that. I've got a better idea, anyway." You said as you heard a familiar song ringing through the atmosphere.

You yanked Miles by his arm and pulled him, "Look, an ice cream truck! I haven't seen one of those in forever. Let's go!"

A rare smile adorned Miles' face. Not that you saw it. You were too busy chasing after the ice cream truck and dragging him along.

You approached the ice cream truck. The ice cream man greeted you, "Hey guys! What can I get for you today?"

Without missing a beat, you said "Hello! Can I get the Spongebob popsicle please?" with a bright smile.

Miles ordered his right after you. "Coming right up!" The ice cream man said. He shortly returned with both your orders in hand.

As you tried to give the owner cash, Miles lowered your hand gently and said, "Let me pay for you." It was more of a demand as he handed cash to the man.

You couldn't contain the surprise that formed on your face. "Really? Thank you, Miles! You didn't have to do that, y’know." You reached up to him and peppered a kiss on his cheek as a token of gratitude. "Nah, I wanted to." He dismisses it with a shrug.

The man gave you both your ice creams and said, "Have a good day!"

"Young love. A beautiful thing to see." The owner of the truck said as you both walked away.

You both sat on a bench surrounded by a garden of blooming flowers. It was quite scenic for Brooklyn. "Miles, look. He only has one eye!" You chuckled as you showed him your popsicle.

Unbeknownst to you, you had ice cream smeared on your face. He leaned in to wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb, his gaze lingering on your lips. An almost too-intimate action for people who were just "classmates." But you brushed it off as him being friendly for a change.

"You're a mess, mami." He chuckled, shaking his head at you. You ignored how he made your stomach do flips.

Miles had led you to a rooftop that he frequents. It had an incredible view of the sun, despite all the tall buildings encased around you two.

Miles and you spent the rest of the evening together, basking in the presence of one another. You conversed for hours, only realizing the time when the sun started to set. Comfortable moments of silence were exchanged as you watched the sun disappear from the sky, the moon soon replacing it.

“It’s a full moon, isn’t it just beautiful?” You admired the moon as it shone down on the sullen streets of Brooklyn.

"Yeah, It is." He replied, but he wasn't looking at the moon. If you had just turned your head, you'd realize the true meaning of his words. He hadn't even noticed the moon. His eyes were fixated on you instead. He believed that the moon couldn't even hold a candle to you.

"Why haven't we done this before, Miles? I enjoyed hanging out with you today." You felt harmonious with him for once, laying your head against his shoulder as you studied his face.

"I did too, princesa. Maybe I will just wine and dine you someday." Miles said with a smirk, gazing down into your eyes with a borderline smitten expression.

A lightbulb suddenly enlightened your brain. You mentally banged your head against a wall. How could you be so naive to not realize it sooner?

You broke the tension in the air and raised your head to look into his eyes. "Is this a date? You know, people that are 'just' classmates don't go on dates." You told him cheekily.

Could he not have made it more obvious? He paused for a moment and said, “I don’t want to be just classmates.”

“So you want to be best friends? Great! Me too." You grinned, feigning naivety.

His face immediately dropped as he facepalmed himself. "Dios mío, no. That's not what I meant. Never mind, olvídalo." He said, shaking his head.

You beamed at him and laced your fingers with his. “I’m just messing with you, Miles. I like you too. In case you haven't noticed."

He sighed of relief as he lifted your entwined hands to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. You stayed in each other's embrace for the rest of the night.

From that day forward, you never broke the unspoken agreement ever again. And Miles never had to worry about you associating with another douche again. Excluding himself.

You walked into class hand-in-hand the next day. The following days, as well. That's the way it was, and that's the way it would stay. And both of you were content with that.

_________

ella no es tú - she's not you

dios mío - my god

olvídalo - forget it

princesa - princess

[thewitchblue]

"I told you not to touch that."

You had warned a very curious Tim repeatedly. This one wasn't anything harmful. You simply didn't want him touching your potions. It was a very annoying potion to make.

You had left it boiling on a burner while you got a snack, but Tim shut off the burner to touch your half-baked potion. You had no idea how long he's had it off the burner, but it wasn't boiling anymore.

"What does it do?"

He didn't have the guts to do anything but hold the boiling hot beaker. At least, not in front of you. He felt like he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It was SUPPOSED to be a present for Jason, jackass. Now it's ruined."

You aggressively took the breaker from Tim and borderline slammed it down on your windowsill. You stormed over to your burner and turned it on again. Maybe you can salvage it. It had stopped boiling because Tim was too curious for his own good.

"Oh."

Tim looked embarrassed. You didn't bother to tell him it was liquid weed, so Jason could stop stinking up the manor when he smokes.

You were sick of getting accidentally drugged because Jason left brownies out without a "do not eat" sign. You think Jason secretly likes drugging people, but there was an unspoken agreement: shut up and leave the drugged person alone.

You were hoping this potion would get him to go to you instead of some shady drug dealer, but Tim doesn't need to know any of this. This is between you and Jason.

"Do me a favour and never touch my stuff. My next potion won't be so friendly."

You grumbled. You were the family witch. Yes, the stereotypical potions and general magic. You learned from Constantine and Zatanna how to use spells, but potions are where you shine.

You are called The Alchemist at night and are feared mainly due to how prepared you are. You had a potion for anything and everything.

The villains actively avoid you as a result of your preparation. You're seriously more prepared and paranoid than Batman in a lot of cases.

Scarecrow is the only one salty enough to go after you. He wanted you as an apprentice, but he's not getting anywhere by kidnapping you on the occasion. Come on, just give him one potion that he can replicate if he can't have you on his side!

Joker found you boring, Bane doesn't want to tango when you take away his muscles with a potion, Ra cares more about physical combat, and the list goes on. It's ridiculous, truly.

You were actually quite close to Poison Ivy, however, and she supplies you with various plants for you to use. You even send her photos to update her on how the plant is blooming with a thank you text (yes, you have her number, score!)

Being a Wayne helps with the potions as well. You can get you an endless supply of various metals, chemicals, and powders to work with alongside the plants. You often question if you are on a government list somewhere. It doesn't look good to order 15 kilograms of gunpowder and potassium nitrate.

The family doesn't know any of this, but then again, they don't know much about what you do. They rarely ask questions about your potions except nosy Tim, who refuses to leave your room until he knows more about whatever potion you are making at the time.

"I was curious!"

He tried to defend himself, which failed as you retorted,

"And you could have had your finger dissolved if you touched it! For the brains of the family, you really are stupid."

Does he have no sense of self-preservation? Why on earth would he touch a mysterious liquid? Survival of the fittest indeed.

Tim scoffed. How else is he supposed to find out more information if he knows nothing about the process? You had all your potions memorised! No recipe book, no paper trail, you even have a witch/magic users pack between Zatanna and Constantine, so they won't tell the family anything. He can't even identify all the plants you use so he could test them.

"You're lucky I make weapons for you guys. Some of this stuff takes weeks! I have 9 of you guys running around, using MY supply because you guys don't use your potions wisely. What if I needed the paralysing potion for Bane, but uh-oh, you stole it from me, so I can't do anything."

Tim had no excuse. He's, admittedly, stolen more than a handful of potions to reload his weapons, and he's not the only one. He tried to smooth over your irritation. In a nervous tone, he said,

"I'm sorry. I would be surprised if you didn't notice the missing potions, though."

Damn right, you'd notice it. What kind of alchemist would you be if you didn't notice your missing stash and resupply? Granted, you also have the power of bullshit spells that you learned from John and Zatanna, so you aren't entirely helpless, but it's annoying reaching for an imaginary potion on patrol and needing to trudge all the way home just to restock.

"I think you need to keep your hands to yourself. I might have to redo this potion now. Please tell me you didn't touch the potion itself."

You wouldn't know how to handle a high Tim Drake. You tried to keep your eyes on him while putting your potion back on the burner. Is the weed in his bloodstream, or are you safe to continue your drug cooking?

He gave an awkward smile. He may or may not have smelled the potion. It smelled like a freshly mowed lawn, and the tiny sip he took tasted like an apple. When all you got was silence, you groaned and said in disbelief,

"Oh, fuck, of course you did."

Just your luck. The drug will hit Tim any second now. You ran a stressed hand through your hair before turning to him and saying sternly,

"You are going to sleep on my bed and let the potion run its course. Do. Not. Leave. This. Room. Got it?"

Tim looked confused, but what does he know about magical potions? If you say let it work through him, he'll follow instructions. He sat on your bed and then it hit him.

"Woah, what the hell did you do to me? Were you trying to lace Jason with something?"

You frowned and physically pushed him onto the bed. You quickly swaddled him like a baby in a sea of blankets.

He can not leave this room. Bruce would murder you. You were supposed to be the good one. The only one who caused no problems (to their knowledge).

"Tim, look at me."

Tim did not, in fact, look at you. He was distracted by all the plants you have in your room. Did someone drop off more plants in the time he's last been in here?

"Did you get more plants?"

You huffed. You didn't. They have only grown since he's been snooping in your room. You tried to get his attention by snapping your fingers and calling his name,

"Tim?"

When he continued to look around with rapidly reddening eyes, you squished his face in your hand and forcefully pushed his face until it faced you.

"Tim, you are going to sleep. I'm going to play some music for you and we are going to forget all about this when you feel better."

You can make a potion to erase recent memories. Tim can't know you are making drugs in your room. Nobody can know except Jason.

You decided to turn on some calming music in hopes he would drift off, which seemed to be working as his eyes drooped, and he smiled at you like he knew something you didn't. He was lost in his thoughts, clearly.

You wondered what was going on in that big brain of his. It didn't matter. He can blaze in blissful peace while you deal with his mess.

You kept the music quiet and soft like he was at a spa. You hoped the combined warmth of the blankets with the soft music would work faster.

With a sigh, you stood up from your position at his bedside. This is not good. Tim needs to learn when to leave your stuff alone. What if you boiled his blood or poisoned him? It's best to leave the witchcraft to the witch.

You watched him like a hawk. His thoughts seemed to be slowed and sluggish. You supposed you can bottle your potion after all. Should you put a dropper on it? Normally, your potions soak through the skin and clothes, but you were extremely careful with this one.

You gave his forehead a small kiss once he fell asleep. You went to your bottles while shaking your head in disapproval. You were very happy with the results of the potion, not so much with the tester. You would hate to think about what could have happened if you didn't swaddle him. Would he be walking around high and babbling about funny potions? Probably. He was already hallucinating pleasantly by the time he passed out.

You were so lucky that Tim didn't get the potentially dangerous symptoms. You can handle a mellowed out Tim, but not if he was going through psychosis.

After successfully bottling and hiding the potion, you pulled out one of your memory potions.

You felt bad drugging him then making him forget about it, but you can't have him telling anybody, whether accidentally or purposefully.

You know you could just tell Bruce that Tim touched a memory potion on your burner, and he'd believe you, but why draw in the eyes of Batman? He would want to know about all future potion making.

You frowned as you put one drop on his forehead and watched it sink in. He won't remember any of this.

You were a bit overprepared, but you were Batman and Constantine trained. Of course you'd have some weaselly way out of accidentally drugging someone.

Oh, John would be so proud of you.

[elektramustdie]

dreams do come true

"Fuck, just like that."

It's the middle of the night when you begin to stir, a small ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable couch you and your roommate had fallen asleep on some hours ago, your eyes hesitantly and sleepily blinking open.

A soft glow of light from the television hardly illuminates the dark living room, a small yawn escaping your lips. A few incoherent mumbles continue to escape your best friend's lips, a slew of stifled moans and shifting limbs following them.

Peeking over your shoulder, you can barely make out the pale boy's features, his eyelids fluttered shut and lips slightly agape. "So good-“

"gerard?" You nudge his bare arm with your elbow, feeling a warmth spread across your cheeks at the quick realization he's having a far from innocent dream. You try again, with a bit more force, despite the exhaustion coursing through you from the lack of sleep. "Gee."

“Hm?" the black haired boy suddenly blinks awake, slightly panicked as he sits himself up, eyes hazy and distant. "What's wrong?"

You stifle a giggle at his wild hair and confused expression, his chest still heaving slightly from his startled state. "Nothing's wrong," you say, "You woke me up."

“Oh," a pink hue washes over him, swallowing a thick lump forming in his throat, blinking away the images left behind from his stupid little dream about his pretty roommate. "Sorry. Fuck, what time is it?"

"Uh," you crane your neck, narrowing your eyes to catch sight of the small digital clock on the stove not far from you. "Half past three."

"Shit," Gerard quietly hisses, shuffling underneath the knitted blanket covering you both, feeling a bit restricted in his jeans. With each blink of his eyes he can't stop picturing the sinful sight he'd been dreaming about. "Sorry for waking you."

"It's fine," You dismiss him with the wave of your hand, backside still pressed against the boy's clothed thigh, thinking nothing of the position. A small smirk however twitches at your lips. "Dreaming about that girl again?" you tease, pushing your lips to the side.

Gerard shoots you a glare, clearly unamused by your attempt at a joke, though his heart skips a beat at the simple idea that you knew what type of dream was unfolding behind his eyelids. "No, lyn z’s annoying."

"I thought you said that eliza was annoying?" your brow quirks, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

"I said eliza’s obnoxious," he clarifies with a simple scoff, slinging his arm over the back of the couch, muscles flexing and catching your attention, "Why do you care anyway?"

Your breath hitches momentarily, affected unfamiliarly by the simple sight. You’ve seen Gerard shirtless a million times - hell, you've cuddled on this very couch on more than one occasion. Platonically, of course.

You ignore the blush on your cheeks and the small frustration bubbling in your stomach from his question, "I don't," you shrug, though he isn't convinced, "I'd just rather not be woken up by your stupid wet dreams."

Gerard’s eyes quickly widen, lips parting in slight shock at the confrontation, though he doesn't utter a single word to defend himself. You just offer a simple soft laugh before getting up from the couch, fetching the two of you a glass of water.

When you return, Gerard’s jeans impossibly tighten at your attire, your crooked little tank top and sleeping shorts, unknowingly bunched at the tops of your smooth tanned thighs. 

Never had Gerard looked at you, his best friend of nearly ten years in a sexual or romantic way, but the absence of a bra on your upper half and the little patch of exposed skin between the hemline of your tank top and waistline of your shorts has him on the brink of drooling.

"Hello, Earth to Gee," your hand waves in front of the boy's eyes, blinking out of his terrible, terrible thoughts to see you standing at the end of the couch, a glass of water in your palm. "You alright?"

A shaky hand reaches for the glass, nearly spilling the liquid all over his lap as he desperately brings it to his lips, chugging the contents in almost record time. Your brow raises curiously.

"You got that worked up over a dream?" You laugh softly, taking a seat beside him, legs criss-crossed while you sip on your own glass of water, no idea the effect you have on the pale boy at this moment. "Damn, Gee, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

"Shut up," he exhales loudly, placing the now empty glass on the side table, raking a hand over his face. God, why now? Why in the hell is he having inappropriate dreams about his best fucking friend? "Drop it." Gerard shoots you a stern glare, only fueling you further.

A mischievous smile appears on your lips, quickly disappearing as you compose yourself, feigning innocent curiosity. "Let me guess," you start softly, pretending to ponder, "Doggy? No, that wouldn't rile you up," you shake your head quickly, fingers tapping on the side of your glass, "Reverse cowgirl."

"Y/N." he mutters through gritted teeth, white knuckling the arm of the couch, fearful to glance at you. "Stop."

"What?" you giggle quietly, "Oh come on, don't go all innocent on me now," your eyes roll playfully, "Not like I haven't heard it all before."

"I'm serious," Gerard grumbles, trying to regulate his breaths but struggles, nearly full fucking mass in his jeans now. Thankfully the knitted blanket bunched in his lap prevents you from realizing how fucking turned on he is. "Cut it out."

Gerard chooses the wrong moment to glance at you, just as you’re leaning towards the opposite end of the couch to place your half empty glass on the other side table, giving the pale boy a perfect view of your backside. Fucking hell.

"You're no fun," you pout, turning back to him and meeting his darkened eyes, barely visible from the glow of the television. To this, your breath falters, noticing his tense demeanor. "What?"

"Go to bed." he suddenly says, not bothering to break eye contact between you two, watching as your tempting little lips part in genuine confusion. Had you pushed too far? Crossed a line?

"gee, I was just teasing-"

Gerard’s eyes narrow at you, almost menacingly, enough to make you choke down your words. "Y/N, if you're not in your bed in the next thirty seconds I'm going to do something we can never come back from."

To the boy’s surprise, you stay put. Not out of fear, or worry that you’ve done something wrong, but because you’re simply curious. Folding your hands in your lap, you remain silent, awaiting the boy's reaction with nervously pursed lips.

His hazel eyes flicker to those little fucking shorts, hardly covering you, and stifles a groan. "Come here," he says lowly, tongue tracing the inside of his lip. Hesitantly, you slowly crawl the short distance before sitting beside him on your knees. "God damnit, Y/N."

"What?" you ask, nearly a whisper, unaware of the effect you have on him. "Look, if I went too far I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

"Gerard-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N," gerard sighs frustratedly, tearing his eyes from yours, "Do you not get it?"

"Get what?" your fingers anxiously tap on the tops of your thighs, biting the inside of your cheek, filled with worry.

"My dream wasn't about lynz or fucking eliza," he scoffs, turning to face you again, his adam's apple bobbing slowly, 

"It was about you."

Your breath hitches. Are you still half asleep? Did Gerard really say-

"Me?" you whisper before quickly shaking your head, "Gee, that's not funny, okay? I don't know what game you're playing-"

Your words cease when a warm, calloused hand finds your thigh, gripping the soft skin firmly. "I'm not fucking with you," he tells you, "I don't know where the fuck it came from but those goddamn shorts of yours aren't helping right now."

Swallowing the thick lump of nerves in your throat, the words falling from your lips aren't remotely close to what Gerard could have ever predicted. "So do something about it."

"Oh fuck me," a low groan leaves gerard’s throat, tossing his head back momentarily, "Don't have to tell me twice."

And suddenly Gerard’s hand is on the back of your head, pulling you toward him forcefully to claim your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. You instantly melt into him, the taste of popcorn still lingering on his chapped lips from the bowl you’d shared hours ago.

Gerard doesn't hesitate to swipe his tongue along your lower lip, pushing your kiss deeper as you brace yourself by grasping at his shoulder, a soft moan escaping your lips, which Gerard is eager to swallow.

The boy’s unoccupied hand finds your hip easily, thumb firmly pressing against the bone there, his remaining fingers digging into the fabric of your pathetic excuse for shorts. Your hips instinctively roll at the contact.

Gerard regretfully pulling away, both of you adorning swollen, pink lips and flushed cheeks, even in the low light of the television it was quite obvious. "Fuck, you have no idea-"

"Me too," you cut him off in a whisper, eyes flickering between his and his intoxicating lips. "Gee-"

"Fuck, what've we done?" he mumbles more so to himself, though he doesn't retract his hands and you don’t bother to tell him to. "Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

"Just shut up," you shake your head, free hand grasping at the chain looped around his bare neck and pulling him forward, claiming his lips just as he had done to yours previously. He doesn't protest when you sling a leg over his lap, thighs settled on either side of his, eliciting a deep groan from his throat.

When your lips part, his eyes hesitantly flicker between yours and your new position, your hips flush against his own. "Are you- are you sure?"

You shyly nod. A groan of disapproval leaves Gerard’s lips, his grip tightening on the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair, pulling you closer to him as if your chests hadn't been brushing the entire time. "Yeah, silence doesn't work for me, baby"

"Yes," you breathe out, clenching your thighs desperately, "Yes, I'm so fucking sure, Gee. Please-"

"Fuck," he grits out, hips bucking against your center, "So fuckin' needy for me, aren't you?" When your eyes widen at his words, Gerard’s lips twitch into a sly, crooked smirk, filled to the brim with satisfaction. He tugs the strands between his fingers again. "Aren't you?"

"Yes- fuck."

The hand not grasping your hair retreats to your upper thigh, thumb resting in the crease there, fingernails digging into your soft skin and forcing his clothed length against your sensitive center. "Feel that, sweetheart?" Gerard’s tone lowers, fighting the urge to moan at the feeling alone, as he breaths low and slow against your lips, taunting you, "I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

“Please," you helplessly whimper in response, eyelids tempting to flutter shut at the simple feeling, Gerard’s cock twitching in the confinement of his jeans at your sinful little plea. Never in his life had he imagined a scenario with you like this becoming a reality.

Gerard quickly taps your thigh so you’ll raise yourself, allowing him to kick off the thin knitted blanket on his lap, exposing the outline of his achingly hard length in his fitted jeans, the boy’s jaw tensed so hard his teeth begin to ache. He can't fucking begin to imagine how good you’re going to feel wrapped around him.

His ringed fingers fumble with the button and fly of his dark jeans, too fucking anxious to finally set his cock free. He leaves them pooled around his knees carelessly, his fitted black boxers following suit. A soft hiss leaves Gerard’s lips at the release. You, however, are at a loss for words.

"You-" you breathlessly choke out, unable to look away from his length, eyes widened and suddenly feeling a stir in your stomach. "There's no fucking way, Gee-"

“What, am I too big for you?" Gerard teases in a low tone, a sickening little smirk on his lips, head cocked to the side. "You don't think you can handle it?"

As you’re shaking your head and finally tearing your eyes away, you meet his gaze, hesitant. "I- I don't know-"

He lets out a low, sinister chuckle before his hands are on your hips again, pulling your clothed center flush with his exposed length, ghosting his lips against yours. "Too fuckin' bad, sweetheart, you're gonna take it and I don't wanna hear a single fucking complaint."

A low, drawn out whimper escapes your poor lips, swallowing your nerves while

Gerard continues to jut his hips. "Yes, sir." the words fall from your mouth before you can even process them.

"Ah, what a good girl, hm?" the boy hums against your lips, "Gonna fuck you so good, dollface I promise."

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, sir."

"Goddamn," he pulls away slightly, so fucking hard he's nearly on the brink of orgasm from the simple word alone, ringed fingers retracting from your hip to the thin, stretchy material of your shorts, sliding between your thigh and the fabric until his forefinger finds the dampened material of your underwear. "You want me that fucking bad? Hm? Had to go and get this fucking wet for me?"

"Gerard-"

"Fucking pathetic," he scoffs, sending a shock straight to your spine as he slowly teases his finger against you, pressing firmly against your clit like some fucking expert. "Can't wait to watch you sink down on my cock."

You’re already a fucking mess and he's barely touched you, fingers grasping at the thin underwear and sliding them to the side, Gerard’s free hand preparing himself and pressing his tip against you. "So fuckin' wet, don't need nothin' else."

You suck in a deep, loud breath as Gerard begins to push inside, giving you no mercy as his hands find your hips yet again and force you down his entire length, your hands grasping desperately onto his broad shoulders. "Fuck-" you cry out, eyes pinching shut at the sudden stretch. "Oh my-"

"S'okay baby," he coos softly, thumbs pressing firmly onto your hips, no doubt leaving bruises there you'll find in the morning."M'gonna take good care of you."

Your fingernails absentmindedly dig into his pale skin, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes. You’d never felt so full.

"Please, Gee-" your throat suddenly runs dry, eyes flying open as he uses the grip on your hips to pull your body upwards, forcing your back down onto his length roughly. "Fuck-"

"Quiet," he interjects curtly, "Want you to take my fucking cock the way I give it to you. Cry all you want, sweet girl”

The pain of the stretch doesn't last long, thankfully, though each rough thrust of Gerard’s hips has your vision blurring, the sound of his thighs smacking against the back of yours bouncing off the walls of your quiet shared apartment.

You adjust to the boy’s deep, rough rhythm, the fabric of your flimsy little tank top settling just below your breasts, catching Gerard’s eye. Managing to continue his pace, his teeth capturing this bottom lip, one of his hands slides the fabric further until they're both exposed to him.

“Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts softly, wetting his bottom lip due to the tempting fucking sight of you sinking down on his cock like the good fucking girl you are. He cups one of them, a whimper leaving your mouth amidst mumbled curses. "You feel so fucking good on my cock."

"Gerard-“

"Say it, baby. Fucking say it."

"Sir, please-"

"Fuck," he grits his teeth for the millionth time, the word never growing old as it reaches his ears, before he's suddenly halting, pressing his hips firmly against you until you’re nearly out of breath. So goddamn deep.

It takes less than a second before he's pushing you onto your back, still connected and instead of grasping your hips his hands find your knees, pressing your thighs flush against your chest.

Gerard sucks in a quick breath, standing on his knees as his jeans are still pooled around them, restricting him slightly but he simply doesn't give a fuck right now. Slowly retracting his cock, he keeps his eyes on your pretty little lips as he pushes his hips forward suddenly, hitting an entirely new spot and causing a borderline scream to leave your mouth.

“Fuck-" you gasp, lips parting. thighs already shuddering from one fucking thrust. This only heightens the boy’s satisfaction, ignoring the small beads of sweat that begin to accumulate on his forehead. "Oh my fucking god-"

"Fuckin' told you," Gerard grunts, a white knuckle grip on your knees, preventing any pushback you attempted to give as your thighs shake beneath his hold, "Told you I'd fuckin' ruin you, didn't I?"

"Y-yes-"

"That feel good, sweetheart?" he rasps, throat nearly raw from the groans and moans he continues to stifle, "Feelin' me so goddamn deep inside of you?"

“Gee, please- so- so deep-"

"Yeah, baby," instead of gripping both of your knees, Gerard decides to rest his forearm against them to keep you in place, snaking his free hand between your thighs, attaching his thumb to your sensitive clit, a desperate little whimper leaving you. "You're doin' such a good job, takin' me so well."

You instinctively clench around him, causing a hiss to leave his lips, eyelids falling shut at the overstimulation. "I'm- oh fuck-"

“That's it," he responds lowly, not slowing down his harsh, deep thrusts, rendering you nearly breathless. "Come on, fuckin' cum all over my cock."

"Sir- I-"

“Fuck," Gerard grunts, continuing his quick firm movements against your swollen, sensitive clit, as you clench harder and harder around his cock. "Good fucking God, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

"Please, please cum with me-" you ramble helplessly, eyes flying open and meeting Gerard’s darkened eyes, his breaths growing ragged and chest so fucking tight from the sight of desperation on your face. "Please."

Gerard’s thrusts grow sloppily, orgasm building quickly. lower lip tucked between his teeth. One last particularly deep thrust, hitting that goddamn special little spot has you gasping for breath. Feeling your release coat his length, he finally lets go, hips stuttering to a slow pace, eventually stopping all together.

Both of you adorn heaving chests as the sound of your breaths echo the living room, both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Y/N-"

"Holy shit, Gerard," You manage to choke out, every goddamn inch of your body now sore, choking back a whimper as the blonde slowly slips out of you. "I didn't- fuck."

"Didn't what?" Gerard asks, just as breathless, knees reddened from the friction against the sofa, tugging his boxers up his thighs and tucking himself inside of them. "Are you okay?"

"There's no goddamn way we can ever be friends," You slowly slink your knees down, feet flat on the couch's cushion. Gerard’s lips pull into a frown at your words, about to interject before a little laugh escapes you. "Not if you fuck like that."

Gerard playfully smacks your thigh, "You fuckin' scared me, Y/N, don't do that," he leans forward to hover over you, eyeing the snide little grin on your pretty lips. "Come on, if you shower with me I'll reward you for bein' so good."

Your dazed eyes blink slowly, watching Gerard smile admiringly down at you. You both know there's no coming back from this, no way you’ll ever be just friends again.

And you don't mind one bit.

"The only way I'm showering with you is if you carry me, I'm fucking wrecked."

"I think that can be arranged."

[plasticferal]

hate that i love you | matt sturniolo.

authors note: i am sickly obsessed with his mattitude so i had to, also not really proof read so sorry, i’m tired.

warnings: dom!matt, fem!reader, angst, mentions an argument, explicit language, physical and verbal degrading and kind of rough, unprotected sex. reader discretion advised.

the dramatic clinking sound of ice cubes hitting the glass was enough to make your eyes snap open. you had chosen to sleep on the lounge as opposed to with matt after a heated argument. you were prone to arguments, but tonight in particular, tore the house apart.

tiredly, you raise from the lounge to watch where the noise was occurring, hearing him pour himself a drink. “didn’t mean to wake you,” his low voice travels through the silent, dark house. you roll your eyes, knowing he purposely made no efforts in being quiet.

“whatever, matthew.” you huff, tense from the distaste in his full name. sliding your body off the couch, you shuffle into the now brightly lit kitchen. ignoring him completely, you brush past him coldly to grab a glass from a top shelf, feeling his eyes on you as your shirt lifts with a stretch. you turn around and stare at him, waiting for him to move away from the sink that you need to access.

he rolls his eyes, stepping to the side. his lower back is resting against the kitchen island, one of his hands' curves around the counter while the other wraps around his beverage. annoyed, you flick the tap on, letting the water rush heavily before slamming it shut.

“can you calm down?” you hear him cut through the tension.

you chug down your water glass, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before locking your eyes with him, waving the empty glass in your hand and making it clear that you’re lowering it into the sink at a slow pace, to satisfy him. calmly. more or less to shut him up.

before you get a chance to leave the kitchen, matt's hand lunges forward to wrap around your wrist, an unexpected touch. your face is flat as you look at him, wondering what on earth he could possibly have to say.

“no goodnight kiss?” his words are underlined with mock, knowing how much it would get under your skin. you pull your hand out of his to storm off, but not before muttering something under your breath.

“asshole,” you aim toward the hallway cupboard to collect blankets for the couch, where you intended to sleep.

your fights lately have been escalating, but tonight was the final straw. this fight was still fresh in your mind. you remember slamming the laundry basket of clothes against the wall and him yelling that the neighbours could probably hear you. you didn’t care. you remember him saying maybe you two should take a break, that it was getting too much. but there was no such thing as a ‘break’ in your mind. just a break up.

he chuckles bitterly, having heard your whisper. you wave him off with your hand. he gives you a “whatever,” before you leave momentarily. you return with a white soft knitted blanket and silk pillow that you typically slept with in your arms. you throw them on the couch with a defeated sigh.

“don’t be ridiculous, you’re not sleeping on the couch, come on,” you hear him speak, sauntering into the dimly lit open living space and placing his hands on the back the couch.

“yes i am.” you look at him.

“no, you’re not.” he debates, almost thinking this conversation is a game.

“stop telling me what to do, i’m so sick of you,” you grumble with clenched teeth, as you begin to tuck one of the blankets into the couch cushions.

“fine, whatever sleep on the fucking couch, i don’t care anymore,” he turns his shoulder on you abruptly, and your eyes go wide.

“like you cared at all in the first place?” you pushed back, arms folding across your chest as a wall to defend your feelings. your words were coming from a place of hurt. of course he cared about you. but for a while it seemed as though he didn’t want to.

“don’t you dare say i never cared,” he turns back and points a finger at you, firing up in defence. "i still do, you just don't appreciate shit," and his words are clearly in retaliation.

“god, i hate you sometimes,” you thought that sentence came out in your head, but it didn't. you speak out loud. he freezes, eyebrows scrunching in query. he steps forward slowly.

“what did you just say?”

you look down at your feet, flushed with remorse but more confusion on if what you said, you meant. you grind your teeth together, contemplating whether you should even look up at him.

you ignore his question, choosing instead to lock your eyes with his, almost feeling like a stare-off. his hair is a mess and still wet from his shower earlier, his white tee-shirt contrasts his dark tattoos, and his sweats hang dangerously low on his waist. all things you wish you couldn't see. your own arms cross over your chest, mirroring him. he takes a small step forward.

“you didn’t hate me last night when i had you clawing at my back,” his voice lowers an octave, making you drop eye contact with him to gaze at anything but his face, knowing it would just make your words catch in your throat.

“because we didn’t fight last night” you fire back quickly, starting to walk into the dining room. trying not let him get under your skin.

“we fight every night, y/n!” he huffs a bitter laugh and follows you, throwing his hands up as he speaks.

“because you’re never happy!” you pause your steps with scoff, mimicking the way he talks with dramatic gestures before turning on your heels and storming off once again, or attempting to at least.

matt grabs your arm, longer limbs making it effortless for him. tugging you to toward his chest and you collide with him. matt's lips are inches apart from yours, breathing heavily from the exasperating bickering.

“don’t walk away from me,” he states firmly, eyes darting up and down your face. a smile threatens to curve your lips, knowing it would just tip him over the edge. you take the initiative to lean in closer, lingering so close to his face you can feel his breath, body heat and light peach fuzz that covers both of your skin. with your voice soft and gentle, you utter your next sentence.

“fuck you.”

his eyebrow perks up and jaw tenses slowly. his stark blue eyes darken, looking deep into yours. an easy, smug smirk pulls and dimples appear in his cheeks.

"as you wish, sweetheart,” he speaks in a relaxed manner.

his fingers brush against your hip bone, sending a chill across your side. you want to lean into his delicate touch, but keep your self control together. you push his hand away, sharing a sharp, distasteful huff.

“you think that will resolve this?” you narrow your eyes, daring his response. he raises his hand slowly to brush them across your cheek, down your jawline. creating a flowing rhythm further down your neck, warm fingers past your collar bone.

“with how hard i’d make you cum, yeah, i do” his response is fearless and direct, like any other confident line that has ever left his pretty, smart mouth. you feel excitement trying to push through the stern front you’re attempting to keep up.

“i’d like to see you live up to that,” you retort, making his hand stop at your hip to grip tightly, pressing deep into your bone and tugging the lower half of your body to touch his.

“baby, i can live up to my word on one condition,” matty speaks. you wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t waste a second in sliding his hands down the back of your thighs to lift you up, turning you around to place on the cold wood of the dining table.

“don’t talk back.” and just like that, he was over the edge. he forces you in place, shuffling your shirt up past your hips eagerly. you support yourself on your elbows and lean back to still be able to see him, and allow him to take control.

his coarse, hot hands plant themselves at your side, thumbs digging deep into the crease where your hip meets your leg. the pressure was sure to leave a sore spot in the morning. spreading you open for his pleasure, he dips his head down to brush his lips along the inside of your thighs. he starts at your knee, and you feel his breath as he travels closer to your heat, teasing you.

you crave him to come closer, to make more contact. knowing what you want only makes him do the opposite. he brings two fingers to your black lace panties, pulling them to the side, whereas usually you’d help guide them off. while his fingers are there, the takes his middle and ring finger and slides them through your folds, feeling the pool that’s starting between your legs.

“matt-” you exhale.

“shut up.” he doesn’t give you a chance to merely breathe his name, hand holding your lace to the side and mouth attaching to your cunt. his tongue scoops upwards, soft yet firm. he enjoys going down you more than he’ll ever admit, but when he thinks he has the upper hand in a disagreement, your punishment is having to let him focus. therefore, no speaking.    

you feel him flick your clit, before making a stripe back from the start. he keeps attacking with his tongue, moving his mouth rhythmically but not focusing on your sweet spot as he doesn’t want to overwhelm you just yet.

his free hand leaves your thigh and makes his way to your heat, the tip of his middle finger tempting your entrance before he spits harshly, making you hum, as he slides in slowly. you gasp as his finger curves inside you, exploring you. inserting a second finger, he quickens his pace, thrusting into you hard and firm, tips brushing your walls with every push.

you grind into the palm of his hand with a heavy moan, friction from both matty and the table beneath you stimulating every moment. his tongue fixates again on your cunt, moving fast. you’re desperate for more, and he’s dragging out every second he can. you try to encourage his movement, running a hand through his perfect subtle curls. you grip his soft brown hair between your fingers, pushing him down to force pressure.

“y/n, keep your hands to yourself,” he swats your hands away, and you groan in annoyance at the loss of momentum. 

“but i need more,” you almost demand with irritation, seeing as though this was not only his idea, but emphasising the pent up annoyance lingering from the fight earlier. all he wants is for you to be quiet and take it. you’re a challenge for him. 

“like the needy slut you are." he states. 

“actions speak louder than words.” you counter.

“fuck are you gonna stop talking or do i have to make you?” matt groans, growing more direct.

“i never agreed to stop.” you rebutted. he laughs with a scoff, licking in the inside of his cheek slowly. he leans up to straighten his posture, looking down at you with his hips flush against the table. 

“y’wanna be that way? okay,” he exhales while slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down teasingly to show the soft pale skin sharply leading down to his already hardening cock, pressing against his boxers. it’s all your eyes can focus on.

“turn around.” he speaks faint, raspy. when you take a few seconds too long to manoeuvre your body the way he desires, he takes it upon himself, forcing you by your hips and pressing into your lower back to flip you over. his strength is beyond you, and there’s no chance you’re unable to be manhandled. you’re on your knees, ass out for his viewing pleasure on this huge table. you still use your elbows as support, back arching.

his right hand crawls around over to your face from behind, around your neck, then up to your lips. the fingers that were inside you make their way into your mouth, prying your lips apart and forcing entrance to make you taste yourself. 

he keeps them there, using his free hand to slide his boxers until they fall. he traces the arch of your spine. when he reaches the curve just below your ribs, he abruptly grabs your body, pulling you toward his waist.

you feel the tip of his cock push against your exposed perineum, warm and wet, inching closer to your entrance where he finally fills you. you moan as he swallows his own, heavy exhaling with relief as he slides out and slams into you heavily. 

he repeats his motions once your body gives him the green light, thrusting into you at a steady pace, giving you time to feel his full raw movement when he pulls back before aggressively crashing your skin together. you can feel the sweat starting to glaze your skin, rocking back and forth with each moment. you moan with each stroke of his thick throbbing cock, the friction becoming a fire between your core.

“gonna try speak with my fingers in your mouth, huh?” he grunts, still thrusting into you deeply. 

without warning, he brings his free hand down to the side of your thigh with a hard spank, stinging badly. you gasp, teeth digging into his fingers as he makes a mess of your saliva all over your lips and chin, not being able to keep his hand still. 

matty prides himself on how long he can last, and his stamina meaning he has the time and patience to edge you until you’re on the verge of tears. you can feel the familiar feeling of a climax buzzing in your stomach, nearing closer with the consistent pace. you bring a hand up to put pressure on your already sensitive clit, making you shutter.

he finally pulls his fingers from your mouth and you pant, cussing and yelling "fuck, shit, s'good" your eyes shut tight, trying to match his pace and slap your ass into him while he thrusts. he slaps your cheek just hard enough to snap your eyes open, and you realise you're being far too loud.

he curves himself over your body so his chest is pressed on your back and he bites your shoulder, leaving marks all over your upper back. he bites hard enough to make you wince, and it's a very clear punishment for you.

"says i don’t care," he mutters, recalling the words you spoke earlier. he never drops anything easily. he'll use anything against you when he has you a moaning mess underneath him. he thrusts slow and hard, the noise so loud and hard you cry out.

"you hate me now, princess?" another hard, almost painful thrust. his thick cock fills you and hits so deep, feeling him the entire time and heavy in your cunt.

"n-no," you cry out again, feeling a tear slip. he'll never admit it, but the sight of your face wet from tears is the prettiest image for him. he wan't to be the only one to make it happen, and the only one to kiss it better, wipe your face, kiss it better.

"yeah, that's what i thought," thrust. he picks up his pace again and you know you can't last long.

"i'm gonna cum, matt, i- i need to," your breathing is jagged and voice is strained. you feel yourself clench around him and matt grabs your ass with his hands, repositioning to pull you back and forth aggressively onto his cock, and you're gripping the table so tight.

"god you feel so good. this pussy is so fucking good," he speaks through tight teeth. the moment you scream out and let your body collapse he pulls out and you feel his warm cum land all over your lower back.

"sh-shit, fuck," he moans out his climax, in a shuttering breath, the sweetest sound you could ever hear. he slaps your ass again, making you kneel up.

"cm'here" he uses your own shirt to clean you, wiping you down before helping you off the table. your legs are jelly, so you hold onto him tight.

"come back to bed?" he asks, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep you standing. you nod, and he starts guiding you both toward his room. you pull him back to face you.

"i don't hate you, matt" you bring your lips up to his, kissing him softly. he doesn't kiss back.

"not what i wanna hear," he shakes his head. you hesitate, leaning back to think. you really do not want to escalate it, but you think it's more suited to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"i hate that i love you," you look him in the eyes. he laughs through his nose, an exhale of air.

"i'll take that," he leans down, connecting your lips. he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, pressing harder. squeezing lightly. he pulls back, brushing your noses together.

"i hate that i love you too, baby," he starts.

suddenly leaning over he’s sweeping his arms under your thighs, carrying you bridal style. you hold onto him tight, letting a laugh out as he yawns.

"now let's go to bed before we break up again."

[whyse7vn]

Us -

[ot7 x reader]

AGUST DUI 🛴🔥

7 participants - 7 online

———————————

tae: ok raise your hand if you think yoongi should of died in the crash

namjoon: why would you say that?

tae: jungkook raise your hand

jk: ok

tae: not in real life the emoji please

jk: ok sorry

wait how did you know i raised my hand in real life??

tae: just do it

jk: like nike LOL

tae: i’m going to skin you alive

jk: sorry

🙋🏻‍♀️

tae: why are you a woman

jk: gender is a construction

hobi: construct

jk: control

hobi: we are not playing a game

i am correcting you

jk: oh

tae: connecticut

hobi: stop

tae: i wanted to play :(

hobi: it wasn’t a game can you read

jk: omg i know someone from connecticut

i think

jin: you have no friends don’t lie jungkook

jk: no i swear i do

tae: he does

hobi: don’t act like you know

tae: i know

hobi: who is jungkooks friend then?

tae: jungkook tell this idiot ☠️

hobi: i’m asking YOU to tell me

jk: i don’t know who it is

but i know

i’m going to go insane who is it ohmygod

y/n: jaehyun lmao

hobi: oh

jin: yikes

jk: i’m sorry

tae: how dare she lmao like she didn’t just cook my first born alive by saying that name

jk: she typed it btw

tae: that’s not the point jungkook

i’m throwing up

jk: ur right me too

i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry

y/n: ???

don’t be sorry

jk: >.<

yoongi: lol

jin: tf he laughing at?

yoongi: we’re always talking about jaehyun for some reason

hobi: be fr

yoongi: …

y/n: shouldn’t you be dead from the crash or something

tae: IM SAYING LIKE

jk: maybe he’s still drunk

hobi: LMAOOOO

yoongi: i did not crash

namjoon: he just fell over guys

yoongi: right

jin: ofc the bitch with no license is defending the other bitch with no licence

y/n: typical 🙄

yoongi: why do you know he’s from connecticut

y/n: what????

namjoon: uh??

jin: wasn’t he JUST complaining about how much we talk about you know who…

hobi: kook was right this man is still off the juiceeeee

ha juice by shinee

i’m so funny wow

tae: if we think about it wtf is connecticut

what the fuck is that srsly

i hate that

what does that mean

america is so strange

another white thing i don’t get

i hate white people

jin: ur borderline white

tae: wtf is wrong with you never say shit like that again

ur borderline old

ur borderline dying

AND ur paler than me

like wtf

this poc erasure

someone get him

jk: connecticut more like connectiYUCK 🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢

EWWUUUUUU 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

hell on earth

yoongi: what

namjoon: ?

yoongi: are we talking about again

i just lost my train of thought

hobi: choo choo

y/n: chuu chuu

namjoon: jaehyun…

jk: 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤢🤢

tae: AND we are talking about poc erasure if you even care

you probably don’t

because you’re a racist

just like your father namjoon

jk: yoongi is older than namjoon

btw

tae: ok???

maybe i wasn’t even talking to yoongi

jk: ok i’m sorry

tae: it’s ok son

hobi: who the fuck were you talking to then?

tae: well yoongi but like maybe i wasn’t at the same time yk?

y/n: shut up

jk: yes

y/n: ?

tae: ok raise ur hand if you think hoseok is being unnecessarily mean to kim taehyung the 3rd today

namjoon: anyways

yoongi are you ok??

yoongi: yeah sorry my head is just all over the place rn

forget everything i said

hobi: is this due to your alcohol consumption

or is it your age getting to you LOL

since your old

older than namjoon

jk: older than namjoon

jin: jungkook is 27 btw

y/n: 23 forever

jin: that’s almost 30 yk?

hobi: at least it’s not 31

yk…

like you

jin: ok

jk: ok !!!!

namjoon: yeah i don’t know what you wanted to get out of that one…

jin: kys

ALL of you

hobi: ❤️

jk: love is love

y/n: awoman

jk: awoman

tae: if you all loved me you would send me a stack

hobi: notice how no money is being sent to your account

take that into consideration

tae: how about you consider my fist in you face

ok i take that back

hobi: don’t

y/n: bryson tiller

tae: why not :(

you didn’t even know what i was gonna say hobi >.<

hobi: namjoon tell him to shut up

namjoon: tae please

tae: yeah ok 😔

cuz you know i do NOT want the smoke

he might do me like he did jaehyun 😭🙏🏼

hobi: will you STOP bringing that up

tae: will you send me a STACK?

hobi: no

tae: then NO

namjoon: both of you stop

also where is jimin??

physically i mean

like do any of you know?

yoongi: y/n’s house i think

y/n: no he’s not??

tae: woah

jk: btw that is also my house yoongi

so y/n AND jungkook’s house

yoongi: y/n and jungkook’s house then

y/n: he’s not here

yoongi: but he was

y/n: how do you even know that??

yoongi: i just do

y/n: ok ????

yoongi: ok

jk: ok \ ^0^ /

tae: wait

jk: JIMIN WAS IN OUR HOUSE ?????

jin: keep up ohmugod

jk: LIKE PHYSICALLY IN OUR HOUSE

WHERE I SLEEP AT NIGHT???

y/n: he wasn’t in my room no

if that’s what ur asking

jk: BUT HE WAS HERE???

AFTER HE WAS SO MEAN SO EVIL?!

y/n: it’s been weeks i was gonna talk to him at some point ig

hobi: communication is key!

not key from shinee btw

jk: WHEN DID HE COME????

WHY DID HE COME????

y/n: he came a few weeks ago

august 6th ? i think

to talk about everything and apologise

jk: you let him in?

tae: LIKE…

y/n: yes

jk: and where was i?

y/n: it was a wednesday so ur boxing class?

jk: i’ve been staying back for those classes

so he came late right?

y/n: yeah

jk: did you invite him?

y/n: no he kinda just showed up

jk: and you still let him in??

y/n: yes jungkook

jk: why didn’t you tell me??

y/n: i wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything it just a lot

like a lot seriously

i wanted to give both me and jimin some time to process it all before we brought it all back to you guys

but i was going to tell you

all of you

jk: yeah but like it’s been weeks…

namjoon: to be fair i also did talk to

jimin and didn’t tell anyone

jk: namjoon

jin: also did that

hobi: u all know i talked to him so…

jk: guys???

i’m confused like what he said was wrong but you’re all still talking to him

like everything’s ok???

namjoon: he apologised to her kook

jk: FUCK HIS APOLOGY?????

tae you get it right?? you didn’t speak to him right??

tae: no i get it

i get you

i understand fully

but i won’t lie to you

i DID speak to him

on the phone

only for 5 minutes tho

i counted

i just wanted to make sure he didn’t yk like kill himself or something…

you know jimin is weak like that

not calling people who commit suicide weak but like calling jimin weak cuz that’s what he is

jk: TAE?????????????

tae: SORRY SUICIDE IS REAL YK?

AND LIKE IT DOESNT TAKE AWAY FROM THE FACT THAT I STILL WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE

i was just

uh

checking?

namjoon: you can say you were worried about him you know that

jk: SHUT UP???£/8/8/8,&&:&,

NO HE CAN’T

YOU ALL HAVE NO BACK BONE /£2&/&&:&:

NO LOYALTY

HE BASICALLY CALLED Y/N A WHORE AND YOUR ALL FRIENDS WITH HIM AGAIN??????

LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?????

tae: NO I’M MAD IM STILL SO FUCKING MAD THE FUCK????

FUCK JIMIN I MEAN IT

jk: you are a liar

LIKE

guys what£/£/&/&:&:

i thought you guys were better than this ???

i thought you all cared

jin: don’t be stupid

of course we care

jk: then act like it????

y/n tell them

y/n: jungkook

jk: tell them

in fact

jk added jimin to “AGUST DUI🛴🔥”

jk: tell ALL of them

y/n: jungkook please

jk: y/n seriously

jimin: hey

jk: shut the fuck up

tae: dude

i know ur upset and angry but doing this rn isn’t gonna solve anything

namjoon: he’s right jungkook

ur acting on emotion and not thinking properly right now

jk: IM not thinking properly???

was jimin thinking properly when he called her a slut and then ran away like a bitch?? was he????

namjoon: obviously not jungkook

hobi: but they’ve talked it out and he’s said sorry

jk: HIS SORRY DOESN’T MEAN SHIT

WHAT DO YOU GUYS NOT UNDERSTAND?

his fucking sorry means nothing

him saying sorry doesn’t take back the words he said

or any of the hurt he caused

namjoon: jungkook like she told us they’ve talked about it and he’s apologised

i not sure what more you want

jk: I WANT YOU GUYS NOT TO MOVE ON SO FUCKING FAST??

I WANT YOU GUYS TO AT LEAST TELL HIM HOW FUCKED UP THAT ALL WAS

BOTH PUBLICLY AND PRIVATELY

he should be walking around eggshells around us rn

you guys should be giving him a hard time

not wondering where he is or whether he’s depressed or not

and you wanna know something?

after it all happened she cried for hours

hours

i have genuinely never seen her so upset

she told me not to tell anyone but i have to so guys can fucking understand

and the fact that we didn’t even know that her and jimin spoke???

does that not bother you all?????

the fact that she was “so fine” and “okay” about the whole situation but didn’t tell us that they had supposedly ‘made up’

tae: she said that she was planning on telling us

jk: yeah but she didn’t did she? it’s been weeks

she said they spoke august 6th right?

we are quite literally in a whole new month

and you ALL should know that when she doesn’t tell us things it’s because she’s upset

you should KNOW her

and how she deals with things

you all claim to care but i’m yet to see how

you know i was really excited about this

we were all you know realising

and coming to terms with this

us

i thought that we felt the same

but this has shown me that you guys don’t even feel a quarter of what i do for her

and you probably never will

the way that you all just took her word for her being fine and okay about the whole situation without actually genuinely checking in with her is insane and the way you all rushed to make sure jimin was ok was even crazier

i just

whatever

bye

—

as you can probably tell this was supposed to be released last month but i tried to adjust it as much as i could

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earthela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knilvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl @yeetedandoboi @stellamalonesolaria @joonsprettygf

#happytimessoon >.<

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Gladiator II - Thoughts (SPOILERS)

I was fortunate enough to watch Gladiator II at the Royal Global premiere at Leicester Square last night (Wednesday 13th November) and I NEED to share some thoughts but there are definitely some spoilers, so…

I cannot stress this enough:

THERE ❗️ ARE ❗️ SPOILERS ❗️ BELOW ❗️ THE ❗️ CUT ❗️

Once again

⚠️ DO NOT CLICK THE READ MORE IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS FOR GLADIATOR II ⚠️

There’s probably things I’m missing/forgetting right off the top of my head, and I might be paraphrasing/summarising some dialogue. I definitely need to rewatch it when I’m NOT super close to an IMAX cinema screen because I spent the whole movie with my neck craned backwards and my eyes darting everywhere because I was trying to take it all in.

Anyway, without further ado:

The opening credits were very beautiful, it recounted the plot of the original film but kind of like in the style of the opening credits of Pillars of the Earth? I don’t know if that makes sense 😭

If I remember correctly, Joseph is billed third behind Paul and Pedro, and Fred is billed fourth 🥹♥️

The film opens with a huge battle where the Roman army, led by Marcus Acacius, conquering the last free city of Africa (I think?), which is what Lucius and his wife are trying to defend

I cannot for the life of me remember what Lucius’ wife was called but she seemed nice, we only had her for a few minutes though before she got killed 😭

Okay so I’m going to start right off the bat by talking about the Emperors as they were the ones I was most looking forward to seeing, and I want to give them their own section!

We NEED to talk about Fred as Caracalla - this isn’t even me being biased, I’m being as unbiased as I can when I say that he was AMAZING

By the way, for months I’ve seen people talk shit about Fred, complaining about how they wish it was Barry Keoghan, whinging because “we could have had Joe and Barry” - to those people I say, shut the fuck up ☺️ I will NOT tolerate any hate for my boy Fred!

Fred actually had a much meatier part than Joe which was pleasantly surprising. I’m not saying Joe wasn’t unhinged or good, but he was way more sane than Fred’s character and you got the feeling that he was trying to hold their rule together and keep his brother from bringing down the whole empire

Caracalla surprised me because he was so much more softly spoken than I anticipated; in so many scenes he was childlike and almost pitiful to watch. For example, there were times where you could see him pouting or fidgeting like a bored toddler, at one point he essentially threw a tantrum and Geta had to hold him back from killing Acacius and Lucilla (and then in the background you could see him playfully swing the sword about like a child would with a toy) He would grin and get excited like a child whenever there was fighting or bloodshed, bouncing in his seat, he looked surprised and excited in the beginning when Geta handed him wine etc.

In the last coliseum fight scene, this was literally Caracalla getting excited when the fighting started - a literal child 😭

Honestly it was just fascinating to watch Caracalla because you could never tell if he was going to be childlike and almost-innocent or if he was going to start screaming and get violent

So apparently the reason that Caracalla is unhinged is because (to quote Geta) “the disease from his loins has spread to his head” (to paraphrase) which makes me think he’s got syphilis or something.

Also both of the emperors are briefly seen with concubines (as in the trailer), and Caracalla has both male and female ones hanging around him 😭 we love a bisexual Emperor!

Caracalla seems to have memory problems (probably as a result of his STI) because he doesn’t remember seeing Lucius fighting in front of them from just a couple of days ago at their party (the scene with the concubines) and Geta tries to remind him, “it’s the poet” but Caracalla just sits down and says he doesn’t remember

There’s a scene where Marcus and Lucilla are brought to the emperors in the middle of the night after being caught in a conspiracy to overthrow them, and you’ve got Geta in that red robe from the trailer whilst Caracalla is basically just wearing a fucking bedsheet toga style 😭 you know that shot in White Lotus where Fred/Quinn has a duvet around himself? Kind of like that

Contrary to that Letterboxd review calling the twins “BJ brothers”, there is NO incest in this film, and no hint of incest between the twins. I know a screenshot is circulating of Joe in the red robe where you could see what looked like the top/side of Fred’s head as if he’s on his knees, but they were absolutely NOT doing that 💀 the scene shows them both entering the room (Geta in his robe, hastily put on) and Fred in his bedsheet toga thing. I definitely didn’t get the vibe of incest at all, I got the vibe of “it’s the middle of the night and they’ve both been woken up because these two traitors (Marcus and Lucilla) were caught plotting against them”

I love that Caracalla’s weakness is Dondas (or Dundas? Different magazines are using different names so I’m so confused), his pet monkey (WE FUCKING LOVE CHERRY AND SO DOES FRED 😭♥️) Like he’s got Dondas/Dundas wearing a fucking dress and on a little chain lead, eating sweets from a bowl, and I have to applaud Fred for being able to act with a straight face while he had the monkey crawling over his shoulders, touching his hair, and at one point when the monkey moved the chain lead literally went right around/over his face

While there’s riots going on outside the palace, Caracalla is freaking out and has Dondas/Dundas the monkey on his shoulder, and Geta straight up threw wine at both of them before saying that maybe Dondas (or Dundas, whatever the fucking name is) go and calm down in another room 💀

There’s a scene where Macrinus finds Caracalla hiding under a table with the monkey and it made me think they were almost playing hide and seek 😭 truthfully I think he was just under there crying and hiding

It’s the fact that Macrinus was able to manipulate Caracalla into killing Geta by using his love of Dondas/Dundas against him; the people of Rome protest against their emperors, and Macrinus basically tells Caracalla that Geta is going to throw him to the plebs outside to be killed - and Dondas/Dundas. “Think about what they might do to Dondas” (or Dundas) - and that’s what pushes him over the edge.

NOT CARACALLA AND MACRINUS SAWING GETA’S FUCKING HEAD OFF LIKE THAT 😭 IT WAS STRAIGHT UP LIKE A HORROR FILM WITH MACRINUS COMING UP BEHIND CARACALLA AND HELPING?!?

Also Caracalla made the monkey a fucking consul of state (I think) after he killed Geta?!?! 😭 Absolutely fucking UNHINGED I TELL YOU

“ALL HAIL DONDAS! 😃” (or Dundas - again, someone please tell me the fucking monkey’s confirmed name)

They showed Geta’s head for WAY too long 😭 and Macrinus just showing it around like that?!? NASTY

Reeling over the fact they airbrushed out Geta’s head for the trailer because in this shot in the film Geta’s head is clearly visible on the table behind Denzel 💀

Sorry but Fred looked damn fine in that purple outfit near the end 😋

I feel like Caracalla had a little bit of a soft spot for Lucilla but the two sides of his personality were warring with each other: the sadistic bloodthirsty side wanted to murder both her and Marcus right away, but then near the end he whispers to Macrinus “must we kill Lucilla?” and he sounded a little hesitant or unsure which was interesting

Seeing Fred as Caracalla without Geta in that last coliseum battle scene? I can’t help but love him, Fred is seriously too good in this role. The shouting, the childlike excitement when the fighting started (see gif above)

Fred was definitely playing up the childlike side of Caracalla in his last scene when the people started revolting, he was literally curling up in his seat, snivelling and crying like a baby until Macrinus killed him from behind (he put something in his ear, i think he stuck a pin in his ear to impale his brain?) Truly pitiful end for Caracalla.

Once again: Fred Hechinger for Best Supporting Actor at the 97th Academy Awards campaign!! 😊↕️

Okay so now I’ve talked about the Emperors, I can talk about the rest of the film:

Ridley Scott truly said fuck historical accuracy in this film 😭 which is not surprising to be fair if you know him and his movies

This film was, expectedly, VERY bloody and violent from start to finish

NOT LUCIUS TAKING A BITE OUT OF THE BABOON 🤯

At one point where they’re bringing the slaves into Rome, they show statues of a wolf feeding two human children from her teat and Lucius recounts the story - this is obviously a reference to Romulus and Remus, twins raised by a wolf mother. This is actually really fitting because from earth on, Ridley AND Fred and Joe have mentioned the idea of the twins being based on this Romulus/Remus story?

DAMN, Paul Mescal was super beefy in this film like holy fucking shit dude

Honestly I adore Pedro but his role was way smaller than I thought it would be. His role is essentially to be Lucilla’s decent and loyal husband who also happened to lead the invasion that killed Lucius’ wife in the beginning of the film, something he did not want to do, hence why Lucius wants to kill him so badly (family drama, eh? 😭) and who is part of a plot to dethrone the twins

MATT LUCAS AS THE MASTER OF CEREMONIES?!? 😭 I won’t lie, at first it distracted me because I was like “why the fuck is Matt Lucas here” but he got a few laughs out of the cinema screening so his tiny parts added a little bit of humour to the film when it got tense

As I said above, there’s no incest shown - there is a MENTION, however, of a rumour that Lucius’ real father wasn’t Lucius Verus(?) but rather Commodus (obviously Lucilla’s brother/Lucius’ uncle from the first film). However, it’s not true because they make it very clear that Lucius’ father is Maximus. They do however briefly mention that Lucilla was a child bride at the age of 14 which is a bit fucked up

I was probably the only person in my screening who noticed this but at one point I saw graffiti on one of the walls on the outside/entrance to the coliseum that said something like “Irrumbo Imperators” - according to Google, that translates as “I attack the emperors”. However, it could have also been “Irrumabo Imperatores”, and if you ask Google to give you the Latin word for “fuck”? It’s “Irrumabo”. So essentially there was graffiti in the film that either said “attack the emperors” or “fuck the emperors” 💀

I thought that maybe Lucius had somehow forgotten that Lucilla was his mother despite being 12 when she sent him away but nope, he’s fully aware of who he actually is and who his mother is, he’s just angry at her for sending him away and never seeing him again 😭

NOT THAT SERVANT TATTLING ON LUCILLA AND MARCUS?!? 😤

They killed Marcus off WAY earlier than I thought they would by the way. The trailers give the impression that the final battle is Lucius vs Marcus but it’s actually Lucius vs Macrinus which is WILD to me

You know that scene in LOTR where the orcs shoot Boromir full of arrows? That is basically what happened in this film to General Acacius but with about 20 more arrows 💀 I had major Boromir flashbacks watching this scene

I’m glad that Lucilla and Lucius got to reconcile before the ending, given what ended up happening

“Because Emperor Caracalla is generous, he will allow Lucilla to have one Gladiator to fight to defend her” - ONE. ONE AGAINST ABOUT 30 TRAINED GUARDS 💀

I’m still reeling over the fact Derek Jacobi spoiled his own character’s death on the red carpet a mere hour before the film screening in front of THOUSANDS of people 😭 that man did NOT give a fuck quite frankly and I think that’s kind of hilarious of him

THE GASP THAT EVERYONE IN THE SCREENING COLLECTIVELY LET OUT WHEN MACRINUS KILLED LUCILLA BY SHOOTING HER IN THE CHEST?!? HE KILLED CARACALLA AND LUCILLA IN 60 SECONDS FLAT 😭

That said, this shot from the behind the scenes featurette about Ridley Scott is ten times funnier to me after watching the film and realising that not only is Ridley showing Denzel how to shoot the arrow that kills Lucilla, but Fred is also supposed to be dead in the chair at this point since Macrinus takes the bow and fires the arrow straight after killing Caracalla 😭

Poor Lucius has now seen his father, his mother, his uncle and his wife all die right in front of him, the man CANNOT catch a break 😫

That final battle between Lucius and Macrinus was GRUESOME 😳 Lucius cut off his hand and slashed him - I’m not sure if he actually cut him in half or if Macrinus just crumpled in the river in a heap but DAMN

This film used footage from the first Gladiator film so they gave the actor who played Lucius in the first film a credit which was nice!

That said, I know obviously it’s been 24 years since the original film so of course the child actor from the original is no longer 12 and so could not be in the flashback scenes showing young Lucius, but damn the difference was a little jarring to be honest, especially when it went from footage of the original film to new footage with the new child actor

Ridley Scott spoiled the ending of this fucking movie by saying he wanted to have Paul back to play Lucius again as the main character in Gladiator III 💀 so yeah, I already knew Lucius was surviving this film

Some final summary thoughts:

Let’s be honest, it would be impossible to top the first Gladiator and so while I loved Gladiator II and think it was amazing, it was obviously never going to quite reach the same level as the original

I know I just made the comment about nominating Fred for Best Supporting Actor but I have to be honest, I truly think Denzel deserves the nomination - if there’s only one actor from this film who gets that nomination, it has to be Denzel because he was by far the standout of the whole film. If I had to rank it personally I’d say Denzel and then Fred is a close second, then maybe Joseph and Pedro?

^ This isn’t me saying Joe and Pedro were bad at all, they were all really amazing, but this film just had so many characters and quite frankly Fred, Joe and Pedro had WAY less screentime than Denzel so they didn’t have nearly as much to work with as he did.

Again; I’m biased because I went in the most excited to see the Emperors, but I wish we’d had more of Caracalla and Geta. Fred and Joe did their best to work with what they were given, but they didn’t have that much and pretty much all of their scenes were shown in trailers or TV spots etc.

GIVE CHERRY THE MONKEY A FUCKING OSCAR

I obviously wasn’t expecting Paul Mescal to fight real baboons, rhinos and sharks but the CGI was… not great. It was quite obvious that it was CGI for the baboons and sharks, I think the rhino was slightly better though (Fred mentioned in an interview his first day involved “the mechanical rhino” so it was somewhat partly practical as well I suppose)

The pacing of this film was a little all over the place, if I’m being honest. I want to rewatch soon, from further back in the screen because, as I said, I was craning my head back the whole time and it ended up giving me a neck and headache so that probably added to me being uncomfortable (plus I’d had a long day and was thoroughly burned out by the time the screening started), but there were times where I was like “oh… we’re back here then 😐”

^ What I’m trying to say is that some of the storylines happened so fast and had very little build up (eg. The emperors in general) whilst other plots were so slow burn in comparison.

The music was so good! I know people are going to compare it unfavourable to Hans Zimmer’s original score from the first film, but I LOVE Harry Gregson-Williams (he did the soundtrack for the first two Narnia films so I’m biased 😅) and I thought he did a great job with the score here. The fact he had Hans Zimmer’s approval and praise made me confident the score would be great anyway

I feel like people are obviously going to compare Paul Mescal to Russell Crowe which… let’s be honest, has gotta suck for him because how the fuck do you live up to Russell Crowe?!? Some people have already said that they didn’t like Paul in this film, which… okay, fair enough. I honestly don’t think comparing him to Russell Crowe does him any favours. I enjoyed watching him personally, and I think given that this whole film rests on him, he did great. Not quite Russell Crowe but I have no complaints about his performance personally.

People are also going to compare Joe and Fred to Joaquin Phoenix’s Commodus, and I think they both did a great job given that they didn’t actually have nearly as much screen-time as Joaquin did in the original film. It’s almost unfair to compare them because in the first Gladiator, Commodus was the main antagonist - in this film, Macrinus is the main antagonist overall whilst the Emperors are more secondary antagonists that serve as obstacles for Macrinus’ rise to power. But they both did great with what they had.

Overall, my opinion of the film?

This film NEEDS to be seen on a big screen at the cinema! Go and watch it!