#flirts with me. like i know this is my space and my own personal outlet outside people irl so i can do things like say a fictional character

[bobafetts-princess]

Surprise: The Sequel

Pairings: Ghost x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2800

Warnings: PiV, we wrap shit up in this one, a little butt stuff, spit kink, biting, cursing, choking. Reader is a little subby here. This is a fic centered on the reader ovulating and being really horny. Heed warnings accordingly.

Author notes: Yes, this was written when I personally was ovulating and I needed an outlet. Please enjoy 😊

Companion piece to Surprise

“My back fucking hurts,” you grumble to yourself, not really meaning for anyone to hear. But Soap, with his fucking bat ears, does.

“Wan’ me to massage it for yah?” He drawls in his thick Scottish accent. He’s been eying you all day and you can’t figure out why. You’re not dressed any different, you didn’t do your hair any different. You didn’t flirt with him, at least anymore than normal. Soap is the type of guy you can flirt with without realizing it. He’s soft and easy-going with a big personality and the ability to make anyone feel special.

“Mind your business, Soap,” snaps Simon-Ghost-Lieutenant (you’re not really sure what to call him anymore) as he comes in the door. You’re sitting at a desk, writing reports on your latest mission and Soap is at his desk on the left of yours, writing his own.

“Aye L.T. But I do feel like her business is my business,” he chuckles and Ghost flicks him a look as he gets up.

“Why’s your back hurt, Blue?” Ghost asks, hand gripping the back of your chair.

“Not sure, L.T.,” you say but then a cramp hits your lower belly. It’s not your period, definitely not your period, that was two weeks ago. So this means- “Damnit,” you curse under your breath.

“What’s wrong?” Both men ask at the same time, Soap moving to stand by Ghost. Another cramp hits your stomach and you have to stifle a groan.

“Nothing important,” you tell them both but they don’t believe you. But Price walks in, looking for an update on the reports and the subject is dropped. He’s standing over your shoulder and you don’t miss the way he keeps looking down at you, the easy way he smiles at you.

“Looking good today, Blue. Did you do something different with your hair?” Price mentions and you know he doesn’t mean it to be creepy. He’s genuinely trying to be nice and give you a compliment, you don’t get many when your literal job is to commit crimes for the sake of queen and country. But you know the real reason he’s looking at you different.

Your ovulation cycle hits harder than your menstruation cycle, the older you get. Your cramps are worse and men tend to notice you more. They flirt with you easier, they check you out with more purpose. Your skin clears and has this tone to that makes you look perpetually flustered. It’s all very flattering but also, quite annoying. Biology is doing its work, but you don’t want it to. The thing that drives you most insane is that you preen under the attention. You like being noticed when you’re ovulating. You like the way Ghosts eyes are dragging across your hips. You like the easy smile Johnny gives you when he’s flirting. You like the way Price’s eyes struggle to stay in their rightful place.

“Nah, just brushed it this morning, that’s all Captain,” there’s a flash of something in his eyes when you call him by his rank but you can’t unpack it right now. You stand, surprising Price and mumble “I’ll be back,” before you bolt.

Ghost waits an appropriate amount of time before he follows, shoving back his chair with some lame excuse so he can follow you.

He finds you in seconds, heading down the hallway in the general direction of his quarters. As a lieutenant, he gets his own space and as he watches your hips sway he’s thankful for it.

“Blue,” he calls out and you still.

“Not now, Ghost,” you say but you don’t move. His long strides catch up to you in no time and his hand presses into your back.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, and you sigh.

“I’m ovulating,” you tell him, pressing into his hand and relishing the feel of his warmth.

“What’s that mean?” He knows that’s your fertile period and you can get pregnant but he’s not sure on the specifics.

“I’m so horny,” you whine, twisting your neck to look up at him and he wants to dip down and run his nose alone the soft skin there. It takes your words a second to click but when they do, he’s shoving you down the hallway and into his room, locking the door behind him.

———————————

Ghost has you on your knees and you’re taking him. Your pussy is slick with your orgasms and your back is slick with sweat. You’re dropped down to your chest on the bed, fingers gripping the sheets as you cry out. It’s not helping though, because every one of Simon’s powerful thrusts pushes you up the bed.

“This fuckin’ pussy,” he snarls from under his mask. Since that day in the shower you’ve had this tryst going on regularly and it’s been satisfying for the both of you. “Fuck, you take me so well,” he grunts as his hand presses into your shoulders to hold you down. “Love when you submit to me,” he says but you think you can take it a step further. You move your hands from the sheets to behind your back, gripping your forearms as your face presses into the bed. Simon groans deeply as he slides his hand down your back to press down on your forearms. “Look so pretty takin’ my cock like this, Blue,” he snarls and you know he’s getting close. You’ve already cum several times, so you’re not concerned about finishing when he does, but Simon is. His hips ratchet up a notch and you hear the distinctive sound of something in Simon’s mouth. You’re about to peek over your shoulder to see what he’s doing when his thick thumb presses up against your asshole. You gasp and still underneath him as he presses circles into the tight ring.

“I’d love to watch you take me here,” he grunts before he pushes his thumb in. Your whole body tenses but you’re pinned. His hands are still pressing your own into your lower back and his finger in your ass is up to the first knuckle. You’re going to lose your mind, you can’t even scream because your face is pressed into the mattress. He continues pressing until he’s got his whole thumb in your ass and you’re gone. You’re so full, so thoroughly worked over that you when Ghost-Simon-whatever you’re calling each other these days, picks up his thrusts you’re blind with pleasure.

He’s putting you through the mattress, his hulking body pressing yours down. You break first, your body clamping down as you cum. He’s so heavy, so thick, and you’re so overwhelmed but Ghost isn’t done yet. He’s growling deep in his throat, snarling something about what a good little slut you are for him and you know he’s right at the edge of breaking. You feel something sharp against your shoulder and it takes you a few seconds to realize he sank his teeth into the soft flesh. He’d apparently never pulled his mask down after he’d wet his thumb and you feel his tongue soothe the sharp sting his bite left. You lay like that for a second, Ghost’s body laying across yours as you both pant with the exertion. Simon’s tongue licks a hot trail across your shoulder and up your neck, stopping at your ear.

“You’re a good fuck, Blue. Y’know that?” You laugh aloud because any kind of compliment coming from Simon Riley is noteworthy.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” you flash a grin at him as he peels off of you, moving to dispose the condom. He comes back and his mask is still pushed up to his nose and his grin would’ve knocked you over if you weren’t already laying down.

“Not so bad, eh? Do I need to split you apart on my cock again so you know how good I can be?” He chuckles, dark and dangerous as he crawls on the bed and stares down at you. His huge hand finds your throat, squeezing and reminding you just how dangerous he can be. But the only thing you feel right now is another how streak of lust through your nerve endings. Your nipples are tight and when he flicks them, a sharp gasp escapes your mouth. Ghost takes the opportunity at hand and pulls you up to him by the throat, shoving his tongue in your mouth. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed but it’s one of the only. You can feel him hardening against your thigh and you can feel how slick you are. His fingers squeeze as he trails his lips down your neck, over where his thumb is digging into the soft flesh.

You’re aching, ready to be filled again, when Ghost speaks in your ear.

“I want to taste you, Blue,” he grunts but you shake your head as best you can with his hand wrapped around your throat.

“Later. Want your cock,” you tell him and he nods, releasing you to get another condom. You desperately want to tell him not to use one, but you are smack in the middle of ovulating and the risk of pregnancy is much higher than if you weren’t. You’re not in a place where you can have a baby and you don’t think Simon is ready to be a father, he may not ever be. But god, the idea of dripping with his cum all day? It’s got you clenching between your legs.

Simon has the condom on, cock swinging between his thick thighs. He’d only managed to get his pants down to his knees the first time and the second time won’t be any different. He’s got a long sleeve shirt on bearing the British Army flag on it and even without all his tac gear he’s huge. Tall and bulky, with a menacing edge to him, you can see why people are terrified. But right now, all you are is horny. He slides between your thighs, lifting your hips and placing a pillow underneath them.

“Gonna take me?” He asks, circling a finger over your clit. You nod but he’s not content with that. “I asked you if you were going to take me, I expect an answer,” he growls from under his mask, pulled back down now.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” you breathe as he presses the head of his cock into you.

“Yes, Lieutenant, what?” He snaps, one hand on your tit, the other on the base of his cock.

“Yes, Lieutenant,-“ you gasp as he pushes into you.

“Go on,” he prompts, almost all the way in now. “Or I won’t fuck you. You can lay here and be my pretty little cock sleeve,” you clench around him, wishing he’d wrap one of those big hands around your throat again.

“Yes, Lieutenant, I’m gonna take all of your cock. Please, I want to take all of your cock.”

“Good girl,” he growls, low in your ear as his hand wraps back around your throat. His thrusts start slow but it doesn’t take long before he’s hitching one thigh up his back, the other pressing you down and pushing you to your limits. He’s more vocal this time, grunts and growls as he sits back on his heels to give himself more leverage. He’s got to be sensitive, it’s the second time in less than 30 minutes, and it shows. His fingers tighten every couple thrusts until you nearly can’t breathe but you know he wouldn’t hurt you. The other hand finds your tits, groping them and pulling at your nipples. He presses the thumb of the hand around your neck into your jaw until your mouth pops open. He pulls the mask above his mouth, leaning down, his eyes wide with question and you nod at him, sticking your tongue out in invitation. He gathers in his mouth before he leans down, spitting directly into your mouth before he closes your jaw and speaks.

“Swallow it.” You do as he asks, opening your mouth again and sticking out your tongue to show him. He groans deeply, gathering his spit again and spitting on your tongue. This time though, he keeps his thumb pressed into the hinge of your jaw so you don’t close it. “That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he snarls, his accent thicker as he pounds into you, “take everythin’ I fuckin’ give ya, don’t ya?” You nod desperately at him, mouth still open, tongue still covered in his spit. “Fuck yeah, ya do. I’m goin’ to cum, I know you’re close.” You nod at him again, pussy tightening as he spits into your mouth again, closing your jaw and telling you to swallow.

“Next time you’re gonna swallow my cum jus’ like that,” he tells you before he leans back, pressing a thumb against your clit. It only takes one, two, three swipes of his thumb before you’re over the edge, crying out his name and clinging to the hand still wrapped around your throat. He follows right along with you, slumping his heavy body against yours. “This will never get old,” he says as he rolls to the side slightly, still laying on you but not quite with his full weight.

“Yeah,” you agree, out of breath and worn down. Finally sated.

“Is it always like this when you ovulate?” He asks, picking himself up and disposing of the condom, for the second time. You nod as he comes back and picks up your underwear off the floor.

“It gets worse as I get older, like evolution is telling me to get a move on.” You stand as Simon holds your hand and helps you into your panties. “My cramps get worse and I get almost unbearably horny,” you tell him as he hunts down your tac pants and helps you into those too. He chuckles as he finds your sports bra, slipping it over your head.

“Maybe you should pop out a kid or two,” and your jaw drops.

“Yeah, sure! I’ll drop my whole life and have babies! Ruin my career, my tits, everything I’ve worked for just to give evolution the middle finger!” You exclaim, annoyed he’d even suggest it. But he’s fully laughing, searching for your shirt under the bed.

“I’s a joke, love. You don’t take those as well as you take my cock,” he husks, finding the army green tank and slipping it over your head. “Besides, it would be a shame to ruin these perfect tits,” he tells you, standing behind you and cupping said perfect tits. Fuck, you didn’t think you could go again but the way his thumbs are brushing over your nipples right now is making you question that. “Well, we better get back to writin’ our reports. Price’ll wonder why we’ve been gone so long,” he says, slapping you on the ass and striding out the door. You’re left panting and annoyed, but you follow after a reasonable amount of time and when you make it back to your desk, Soap is standing next to it looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“Aye, lass. Y’look good today. Exceptional even,” he drawls, and if you weren’t rolling your eyes you’d have noticed his own flick over to Ghost to gauge his reaction.

“Get off my desk, Johnny.”

“Will do, but would ya like t’have a drink with me tonight?” He’s leaned down, in your space, his bright eyes full of mischief.

“No.” You tell him, you’re not really annoyed with him but you are frustrated because Ghost left you horny and every bit as distracted as you were before he fucked you stupid. Your hand flashes out and connects with the inside of Soaps elbow, knocking him off his balance. Ghost chuckles from behind you at his own desk.

“Might wanna leave the girl alone, Johnny. I think she could kick your ass,”

“Ooh I might like that,” Johnny says, not fazed at all that you hit him. Ghost has to suppress a groan at the idea of watching you and Johnny wrestling for dominance. He’s pretty sure you would win and the idea of you fucking Johnny stupid the way he fucks you stupid has him hardening in his pants.

“Johnny,” you start, your voice all sugar sweet and sticky. “Can you do something for me?” Your tone is full of promise and Johnny’s eyes droop as he mutters a gentle ‘of course, lass’

“Go get me some Tylenol and coffee, Johnny,” you say, smacking him upside the head. Simon barks a laugh from behind you, and Johnny looks graciously indignant.

“Aye, lass. Whatever you want,” he’s no actually offended, but he played the part well. Off he slinks, to retrieve the items you’ve asked for and Ghost feels a rush of relief that he’s not the only person in this compound that cares for you.

[spnbabe67]

Owner of an Empty Heart

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Summary: Tori and Dean are now in the same space after 3 months of no contact. Personalities clash and words are exchanged. Will Tori and Dean make it through?

Warnings: Smut, P in V, fingering, oral, body worship, praise, alcohol, drinking, slight tipsiness due to alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3751

Written for @spnkinkevents : 2024 Kink Bingo using the square 'Cowgirl'

Authors Note: Hey all, this is part 3 and the finale to my angsty mini-series. This miniseries has been my way of exploring how my OFC and Dean might interact in the overarching series I'm starting to write. So, if you are at all interested in Dean and Tori and hearing more about them, let me know!

Also, I don't condone cheating in the slightest irl. I am a big proponent of characters doing or saying things outside of your own personal values (within reason) for the sake of keeping their personalities and identities as true as possible

Tori wasn't sure her day could get any worse. She'd woken up to a dead cellphone, courtesy of the previous night's thunderstorm knocking out the power and frying the outlets in her room. A steady downpour meant once she returned from running errands around town she was soaked to her core and shivering hard enough to make her muscles ache. Thankfully, the downright shitty motel, infested with roaches and mold she used to stay low for the past week had scalding hot water and passable water pressure. Tori had savored the warmth, standing under the stream until she could see steam rising from her skin and the water itself started to turn chilly. 

The bathroom was thick with steam  clinging to the walls peeling with paint, and accumulating in a layer over the mirror. The towel was scratchy and itchy, removing what seemed like a layer of skin along with the water as she dried off, pulling on underwear and a pair of sweats that hung low on her hips, the elastic long since gone limp but the insides were soft like a cloud. She tugged a tank over her head, the cloth clinging to her dewy olive skin.

Leaving the sandpaper disguised as a towel, Tori padded out to the main room, damp hair loose and turning wavy in the air. The unsecured door allowed for the cool wind from the summer rain outside to sneak under the door, making the room deliciously chilly against her feverish body. With a bottle of Jack Daniels she managed to flirt her way into getting a discount on, Tori settled back on the questionably clean bed, flicking through channels alternating between various news sources and static until she landed on the Game Show Network. It's gonna be a long night.

Tori was three seconds from sleep to the sound of Pat Sajak's voice, the nearly finished bottle of Tennessee whiskey in a loose grip against her chest when a series of knocks sounded on the door. Her eyes cracked open to the dark, the only light was sourced from the late night gameshow on the grainy tv. The canned laugh track played softly as Tori, with a knife in hand, stumbled her way through the barely illuminated room in a hazy, dizzying blur.

Tori hissed a string of curses that came tumbling from her lips, pain blooming from her hip bone as she hit the corner of the table hard as she fell forward. Well, that's gonna leave a mark. The ache flared with each halting step toward the door. Had she been any more sober, Tori would have been more ashamed of how long it took her to remove the security chain, fingers seemingly unable to grasp the small, cold brass chain and ease it from the narrow channel; the deadbolt was less of an ordeal, giving way easier with a soft click.

Holding the knife behind her back, grip tight on the smooth hand-carved handle, Tori eased the door open, careful not to disturb the salt line she'd laid in a semicircle in front of the entryway. Out of all the shitty things that had happened to her in sequence in the past 12 hours, nothing could have topped seeing Dean Winchester standing on the other side of the door, soaked in rain.

"Tori?" Dean's voice was muffled, like she was underwater.

Tori blinked, stumbling back a step only to catch herself on the door jamb. I didn't think I drank enough to start hallucinating. After two blinks and Dean still stood there, looking more concerned by the second, Tori shook her head. "What are you doing here, Dean? How, how'd you find me?"

Dean’s brows furrowed, green eyes scanning her, catching on how Tori leaned against the door for support, cheeks flushed pink. "Are you drunk, Tor?" His words brimming with concern.

"I'm moderately functional." Tori quipped back, heart seizing at the familiar nickname. She looked past him into the pouring rain, how the droplets rolled off his leather jacket. 

She’d be lying if the sight of her former lover looking like the product of a hate-fuck between a drowned rat and a kicked dog didn’t invoke some joy in her drunken state. She huffed an exasperated breath, grabbing Dean by the arm and yanking him into the room. "Get the fuck in here before you get sick, dumbass."

Dean huffed a laugh, taking a step into the room looking around at the squalor in which she had been residing. He glanced back at her, rubbing the back of his neck. “So,” he trailed off, unable to look Tori in the eye. “How you been?”

Tori took a sharp breath in, swinging the door shut hard enough to make the window rattle, all sense of humor put out like dumping a lit candle in water. She slammed her knife down on the table. “Cut the shit. You didn’t answer my question: Why are you here? How are you here? The only person who knows…” Tori sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “Sam.”

“Don't be mad at him.” Dean placated, shaking the excess water from his jacket.

“He’s really not who you should be worried about right now.” Tori shifted her weight onto one leg and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Look, Tor, can we talk please?”

Tori flung her arms out at her sides exasperated. “About what, Dean? About how you cheated on me? About how you called me, what was it again” She cocked her head to the side, putting her hand on her chin in mock contemplation, “Oh right, a whore who sucks the life out of people? You wanna talk about that? Then talk!”

Dean sighed, slumping down into the chair behind him, burying his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. I know better than to try and give you excuses. I just…I’m sorry. If I could take it all back I would.”

Tori wrapped her arms around herself, drying hair falling soft down her back and over her shoulders. Both of them fell silent, existing in an uncomfortable atmosphere, a tissue paper-thin bubble poised to burst should either of them move too quickly.

“Why?” Tori broke first. Voice softer than Dean had ever heard; vulnerability expressed by a woman who he had never seen even an ounce of self doubt from.

“Why what?” Dean braced his elbows on his knees, looking up at her, how the soft flow of ebony hair only enhanced the stunning features of her face. He could count on one hand how many times he had seen those dark locks freed from the confinement of the french braids she so often kept them in. 

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Tori placed a hand over her chest, skin clammy. “I knew you were hurting. We all were. Why didn’t you come to me? Why couldn’t you trust me enough to talk to me. Why wasn’t I good enough for you?”

Despite her best efforts, her voice broke. Tori sucked in a shuddering breath, blinking back the emotions building behind her eyes. Dean felt his chest tighten at the way Tori’s voice broke, her bottom lip quivering with her declaration of her perceived inadequacy.

“What do you want if not me?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Dean breathed out, slowly standing from the chair.

Tori shook her head, face crinkling with sorrow. Dean crossed the space between them with a few strides of his mile long, bowed legs. Her eyes fluttered shut as his hands cupped her face, calloused from years of holding knives and guns. She had to stop herself from leaning into his touch, the juxtaposition of the way he’d gripped her chin in a harsh vice-like grip that night not lost on her in that moment.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

Tori slowly opened her eyes, meeting Dean's soft expression and she couldn’t decide to be mad or upset, so she chose to just stay silent, not completely sure that if she wouldn’t cry if she opened her mouth to say anything anyway. As she blinked, a tear slipped down her cheek, only to be wiped away by his thumb.

“Sweetheart, you are more than enough. You always have been. I never, never meant to make you feel that way. Tor, you are the best damn thing that happened to me. And you deserve so much better.”

“Dean,” Tori placed her hands on his wrists, her thumbs brushing against the back of his hands.

“You're too good for me, Tor. Always have been. The last thing I wanted was for you to get caught on my rough edges. And when times get tough, all I know how to do is push people away. Push the people I love away.”

Tori pulled away from Dean, taking a steadying breath. “That's not your decision to make. I'm a big girl Dean. I'll choose who I get caught on, and when I've had enough.” She grabbed his hand, pressing her lips to his palm “Promise me you won't push me away again. Promise me that, and I'm all yours.”

Dean loosed a breath, letting his hand rest against Tori's cheek. The other reached out hesitantly, finding it's place gently on her waist, her body warm beneath his touch. “I promise.” Dean leaned down, pressing his forehead to Tori’s. “I'm so sorry Tori. I promise this will never happen again.”

Tori leaned into Dean's hand against her cheek, her other hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck, fingers toying with the soft downy hairs there. “Say it.” She whispered into the space between them. “Say you love me.”

“I love you. I love you so much. More than anything, I love you, Tori.”

Tori let out a shuddering sob, choking on tears. “Then kiss me.”

Dean was sure his heart was in a million, no, a billion pieces at Tori’s choked sob. His hand on her waist migrated up to cup the other side of her face as he brushed his lips to hers. Hers moved his response to his own, the kiss tender with unspoken apologies and forgiveness. 

Dean could taste the sharpness of the whiskey she was drinking, only fueling the rush of serotonin in his body. Like a junkie getting his fix he drank up her taste, the way she smelled, the way her body felt beneath his hands.

Dampness soaked his thumbs and Dean pulled back enough only to kiss away the tears that adorned Tori’s flushed cheeks, clinging to her thick eyelashes like dew on the morning grass. He made sure to remove all traces of tears from her face before reclaiming her mouth. 

Tori's hands fell to Dean's chest, the damp cotton of his shirt sliding against her palms as she smoothed them upwards, pushing his rain-soaked jacket off his shoulders. He got the hint, hands leaving her face to slide the leather off himself, letting it fall to the ground in a heap. Dean's fingers found their way onto Tori's hips, sliding under her tank top to meet the soft flesh of her sides.

She giggled softly at the sensation, smiling against his lips. Dean echoed her grin, nipping softly at her bottom lip. Slowly, Dean walked Tori backward until her calves hit the edge of the bed. Tori sat on the edge of the bed, a hand on the back of Dean's neck pulling him down with her. Their kisses gradually became increasingly heated as Tori scooted back up the bed, Dean kicking off his boots. Dean gently caressed Tori's body as he crawled up her body, taking the time to trace along her thighs, up her flank; a maestro handling his instrument, knowing where to touch and how to pull the sweetest sounds from her.

Dean slotted himself between her legs, bracing himself on his elbows above Tori. She hummed contentedly as his lips left hers, blazing a trail of fire to her jaw and neck. He teased his hand under her tank again, the material bunching around his wrist as his thumb grazed the underside of her breast. Tori's breath became uneven at his touch, back arching off the bed slightly.

"So pretty," Dean mumbled against her neck. "So responsive f'me, sweetheart."

His name tumbled from Tori's lips as Dean tugged her tank the rest of the way up and off with her help. Her nipples hardened against the chill room, causing a welcome zing of pleasure as they brushed the soft fabric of Dean's shirt.

Tori huffed in displeasure as Dean sat up from her body, kneeling between her legs. With a smooth swift motion, Dean slid Tori's sweatpants down her thighs and gently removed them. One big hand delicately cradled her ankle, pressing a kiss to the bone there before kissing up her leg; one to her calf, then to the inside of her knee, then to the plush of her thighs. His teeth grazed the skin increasing incrementally the closer he got to the apex of her thighs so by the time his breath was hot against her now-soaked core Tori was sure she could come undone with a single touch. She tipped her head back as Dean pulled away once more, starting again on the other leg with his mouth to the inside of the knee.

"Please." She breathed out, hands gripping the sheets around her.

All the response she got from him was an amused chuckle and a teasing nip to the softness of her inner thigh.

"Let me take care of you." Dean glanced up at her as his wandering fingers hooked on the waistband of her panties, pulling them down to follow the same path as her pants.

Tori became painfully aware of how exposed she was, sending a shiver through her naked body. She wrapped her arms around herself, covering her chest, hands over her face.

Dean made a shushing noise, hovering over her again, his body hot against hers.

"Don't hide." He coaxed, gingerly removing Tori's hands from her face, pinning them to the bed above her with one of his own. "You're perfect."

Tori scoffed softly. "Hardly."

"No?" Dean cocked his head.

"Nuh-uh."

"Well then I'll just have to convince you then."

Dean dipped his head, capturing Tori's lips once more. His mouth left a hot trail as he moved South, nibbling marks on her collarbone. He kissed his way into the valley between her breasts, his free hand coming up to roll one hardened bud between his fingers.

Tori gasped softly, arching up against his touch. It was too much and not enough all at once. She tried to pull free from Dean's grasp but he held her wrists in a vice-like grip. Soft noises escaped her lips as Dean continued his descent downwards, kissing the softness of her belly, tongue flicking across the scars and stretchmarks that littered her olive skin. Finally, he relented his grip on her wrists, using his thumb to trace her hipbone, fingers lovingly caressing the dip of where her waist met her hip.

"So beautiful. Fucking divine." Dean spoke into the plush of her lower stomach. "I can't get enough of you."

Tori's breath caught in her throat at the first hot breaths against her core, followed by a choked moan as his downright sinful mouth attached to her clit. Immediately her fingers buried themselves into his downy soft hair, ankles crossed on his back. Tori bucked her hips against his mouth, but Dean had one arm across her hips, hand splayed across her belly, holding her in place. He ate her out like a man starving, licking a sucking at her clit, tongue dipping into her heat as if on cue.

Soft gasps and moans spurred Dean on, using his free hand to rub small circles on her clit, alternating to sweeping motions that had Tori slamming her legs shut around his head. Dean just smiled into her pussy, deciding that if this was the way he was meant to go, then he would be the furthest thing from upset. Tori's thighs squeezed harder around his head as Dean inserted one finger into her, curling his fingers in a 'come hither' motion just right against the sweet spot deep within her, making Tori see stars. He knew all the right ways to stroke and touch her in order to keep that wave of pleasure continue to slowly reach it's peak.

"Dean," Tori sighed his name, feeling her lower belly tighten.

"I know. I know sweetheart. Let go for me."

With a cry, her climax hit her like a freight train. Her vision went dark for a second as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her, making her legs shake. Once her world stopped spinning and the roaring in her head died down, Tori released her death grip on Dean's hair, allowing her lover to kiss his way back up her body. She could taste her own release on his tongue as he kissed her deeply, lovingly.

"You're," Tori spoke between kisses. "Wearing too many clothes."

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, kneeling with Dean as he chucked the item over his head and into the room. Tori's nimble fingers made their way down his torso, tracing lines downward to his belt. Her lips attached themselves to his neck, sucking dark marks into his tanned skin as she unbuckled his belt. She could feel his hands rubbing soothing, sweeping motions up and down her sides as she tugged his jeans down his muscular bowed legs.

With some maneuvering, Dean found himself, sitting with his head at the top of the bed, Tori removing his jeans, followed by his boxers that already had a wet stain from his erection. Tori swung her leg over his lap, lowering herself to rest on his thighs, placing a kiss to the tattoo over his heart. She sucked in a breath as she ground her hips down over his dick, sliding herself over him. A sense of pride bloomed in her chest as she pulled a rumbling groan from Dean. His hands landed on her hips, pulling her forward and back, guiding her motions.

Tori rose on her knees, reaching behind her to grasp his length, Dean hissing in pleasure as she did so. She pumped her hand up and down him a few times as she kissed Dean hard. Tori pulled away just enough to catch Dean's forest green eyes as she slowly lowered herself onto him, guiding him in with her hand. Dean groaned lowly, both of them unable to move or breathe until he was fully seated inside of her. Pleasure melted with pain as Tori adjusted to the feeling of him inside her, breathing in as Dean exhaled.

"Fuck." Tori moaned into the crook where his neck met his shoulder.

"Feel so good, Tor." Dean rasped, fingers digging into the softness of her ass, kissing her shoulder. "Takin' me so good. So good, sweetheart."

Once Tori adjusted to the feeling of him inside her she began to move, alternating between raising herself up and down on her knees and grinding her hips against his. They fit like a puzzle finding it's final piece, Dean's pubic bone providing delicious friction against her swollen clit. Tori gripped Dean's shoulders as she pistoned herself up and down, rising until only the tip of him remained inside before sliding back down. His grip on her hips and thighs helped steady her as she rode him, slowly picking up speed. Dean leaned back against the headboard, watching Tori above him, her head thrown back in pleasure.

"So pretty for me, Tor. So perfect like that." Dean praised as he traced her hipbones, guiding her movements. "That's it, you got it, sweetheart."

Tori continued moving up and down, one hand drifting down to guide his between her legs. He got the hint, starting to tease her clit as she bucked her hips up again. Tori moaned softly, her breaths in tandem with his as she felt the familiar sensation of pleasure building low in her belly.

"I'm close." She gasped to him

"I know, I know. Me too,"

Dean sat up again, guiding Tori's halting motions as they both teetered on the edge of their releases. With a low moan, Tori's walls clenched down on Dean as her climax hit, triggering his own as he felt his release fill her. Tori continued to move, drawing out both of their orgasms through stuttering motions, her legs feeling like jelly.

They both panted into each other's mouths as Tori rested her forehead against Dean's in post-coital bliss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Dean murmured, nuzzling his face into her neck.

He gently, laid them both down, pulling out of her with a soft groan. Tori watched from the bed as Dean disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the water running briefly before her lover returned with one of the washcloths in hand. She whimpered slightly as Dean used the rough, warm towel to wipe away the mess between her legs, brushing against her overstimulated clit. He tossed the rag back into the bathroom before stretching out beside her.

"Feel okay?" He whispered to her.

All Tori could manage was a blissed-out nod, scooting herself closer to Dean. He grabbed the covers, pulled them over them both, and wrapped his arm around Tori's waist, tugging her to him. She rested her head on his chest, a leg draped over his waist. He pressed a kiss to Tori's hairline as he traced shapes and loving words onto her back, lulling his girl to sleep. Tori brushed a kiss to his chest before settling against him, letting her eyes fall shut.

In the early morning hours, Tori found herself awake next to Dean in the lumpy motel bed. The sun was just waking, casting them both in golden hour light, teasing along the highlights of her lovers sandy blonde hair, emphasizing the five o’clock shadow and every silver line of scar on his bare torso. 

She reached out gently, brushing aside the short hairs falling gracefully across his forehead, fingertips lingering on the small scar there. His arm was heavy across her waist, keeping her in the bed next to him. Green eyes blinked open as she adjusted. 

“Where you goin’?” Dean muttered, voice rough with sleep.

“Nowhere.” Tori smiled at Dean, scooting forward to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I'm not going anywhere.”

[bookishwithathought]

ACOSF Bonus Chapter Breakdown Part V - Azriel and Gwyn

Part I - Azriel and Elain

Part II - Azriel and Elain

Part III - Azriel and Rhys

Part IV - Azriel and Rhys

**This is just me, analyzing the life out of the bonus chapter and all the possibilities. My thoughts and no one else's. If you agree, great. If you disagree, love it. If you want to share why you disagree, love it even more. If you are disrespectful while disagreeing, I kindly request that you move along and if you insist you will be left to argue with yourself**

Back to control

"If you don't feel you don't hurt."

"If you don't feel you don't suffer."

"If you don't feel they can't break you."

Or know how close to breaking you got.

Azriel seems to be someone who feels too much and too deeply without a healthy outlet.

"tonight had proved he'd been right to do so."

If his feelings were right, why the regret?

If it were right, why be so vigilant about keeping away?

If it were right, why feel like tonight's events (specifically his conversation with Rhys) had proved it was right to keep away?

This glimpse into his mind suggests that Az knew, consciously and subconsciously, his feelings were misplaced. He had known all along he ought to heed reason and not entertain or act upon those desires.

Love would not lead someone to act upon their desires without considering the consequences, positive and negative.

Azriel arrived at the training pit with intense emotions that were overwhelming him and threatening to override reason.

The shadows also had not warned Azriel of Elain's presence earlier in the chapter, yet the author chose to only note it here.

Possibilties for the lack of warning:

The shadows didn't sense the person that was at the training pit

The shadows wanted Azriel to run into whoever was at the training pit and did not want to give him the chance to change course

The shadows were curious about the person who was at the training pit and they wanted to engage with the person.

Azriel wanted to be alone in this moment but didn't want to give the wrong impression that he is avoiding whoever was there. Azriel is a considerate character.

Chill, ice: ice and the cold are words often used to describe Azriel's moods, attitude or reactions.

It's late into the night of Winter Solstice and Gwyn is training alone.

Something is making her restless and in need of working it off

She has found something to give her focus and an outlet for her competitive streak

Gwyn wants to make sure she'll never again be vulnerable

The mask is back on and whole, containing everything he feels deeply within.

The shadows peered over his wing at her.:

The shadows are being highlighted in this section of the bonus chapter, as though their behavior is important to note.

They are curious about Gwyn, something rarely seen throughout the series.

Azriel's shadows are often met with fear, awe and outrigh disgust, so it is refreshing to see someone react to them in a positive manner, considering Azriel has noted his shadows are his companions, who would always be with him, making them essentially a part of his very existence. And not only react positively but treat them as their own entity, sentient beings worthy of recognition and attention.

Azriel again noticed his shadows are curious about Gwyn, something not seen before in the books.

"hooked her coppery-brown hair behind an arched ear":

Here are a few potential meanings behind this simple movement

Sign of attraction - a non-verbal way of exposing a persona's facial features, making them seem more open to the other person

A comforting or self-soothing gesture - a way to manage one's emotions in an uncormfortable situation or intense conversation. It serves as a small distraction, allowing the person a moment to collect themselves

A display of confidence - exposing one's face can signal they're not afraid to assert their presence and take up space

A flirting signal - hair tucking is a "preening" behavior in the animal kingdom, actions designed to improve one's appearance or attract a mate. It can signal their interest to the other person

Expression of nervousness - self touch providing a calming effect on the nervous system

Simply a habit developed over the years for any or no reason

Possibilities

Azriel being considerate of Gwyn's comfort level being in the cold

2. He is trying to subtly coax her to go inside so he can be alone in the training pit

3. This is an attempt at making polite conversation before excusing himself

4. Az is as curious about Gwyn as his shadows

Gwyn answers in stride.

After Azriel saved Gwyn in Sangravah, Mor brought Gwyn to the library where she's lived since then. Azriel remembers her, though he had not seen her since, until he began to help Cassian train the priestesses.

There is a hint of awkwardness in this moment.

It is great to note the difference in Gwyn through Azriel's perspective, since he is the one who found her at her worst moment. He's able to witness her growth and healing.

Based on ACOSF's depiction of her, the Gwyn standing before Az is determined, caring, stubborn, competitive and rises to the challenge. She is strong mentally and physically, which she already was before, but Azriel had not yet seen it.

SJM retconned the attack on Sangravah so Azriel would not only be present but would be the first to get there (emphasis mine):

From ACOMAF:

But Azriel confirmed that they’d raided the memorial in Sangravah three days ago. They’re looking for something—or found it.” Azriel nodded in confirmation, even as Mor cast a surprised look in his direction. Azriel gave her an apologetic shrug back.

From ACOSF:

“The first had just unbuckled his belt when Azriel arrived.” Silent, unending tears streamed down Gwyn’s face. “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it. Morrigan arrived a few minutes later, and then Rhysand appeared, and it became clear some of the soldiers had gotten away with the piece of the Cauldron, so Azriel headed after them.

Once the moment passes, Gwyn gives Azriel an opening to leave.

Az had originally gone to the training pit to be alone, and he could've taken this opportunity to leave and find solitude somewhere else. Instead he chooses to stay in Gwyn's company.

Their interaction is very direct in a comfortable way. There’s a sense of familiarity.

This shows Gwyn is perceptive and capable of reading others well. Azriel certainly wouldn't have volunteered this information.

"Her mouth quirked to the side":

She realized she has figured out why Azriel went to the training pit late at night on a holiday and is amused to know he's not as hard to read as he likes to think.

Azriel tries to slip back the mask on with a lie

Gwyn challenges the lie

This moment provides another example of how caring Az is.

Az decides to indulge Gwyn and accept the invitation to banter with her. In this moment he is lighter, compared to before arriving at the training pit.

To be continued...

[cha-melodius]

Firstprince, and look don’t ask me why this is what my brain came up with but: meetcute at the STI clinic

(OMG, I love your brain so much. This made me cackle and immediately start writing it. Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!)

chamel's fandom fest info | read all the fics

Getting Clinical

(firstprince, 2k, T; read it below or on AO3)

Alex has to admit that the very last thing that he expected to get upon coming out to his mother was an appointment made in his name at an LGBTQ+ focused sexual health clinic near his apartment. Really, he should have known better, given the PowerPoints that resulted from said coming out, but still. He’s a grown-ass man with a career. He lives on his own in a city in which she does not live. He can take care of himself.

He still goes to the appointment when he gets back to New York. It’s already made, after all, and it’s been a while since he was tested. Since he’s had any sexual partners, in point of fact; he’s been more or less a hermit for the past couple of years, throwing himself into his work and only letting Nora and June drag him out on rare occasion. The whole bisexual revelation had been a slow thing, born of the unexpected feelings evoked in him when one of the senior partners at his law firm came out as gay, in combination with finding himself staring a little too long at the shirtless male leads when he’d put on The Mummy or Indiana Jones on in the background while working late nights at home. He hasn’t actually acted on any of this newfound knowledge save for flirting a bit with the barista at the coffee shop in his building.

He’s gonna, though. He’s determined to get out there and meet someone. A number of someones, maybe—why not have some fun while he’s discovering a bit more about himself? Explore what’s out there. So it makes sense to just go when he gets the email from his mom with a screenshot of the appointment confirmation.

“I wonder if anyone’s done a comparative study of these lubes,” Nora says, too loudly, from where she sits beside him inspecting a selection of samples that she’s collected from a display in the waiting room. More than one person waiting nearby looks over at them, and Alex sinks a little deeper into his chair.

“Ugh, why are you here again?”

“For the moral support,” she chirps with too much glee. “Not like I have any need to be tested right now. Although, June and I did meet this very intriguing guy—”

“All right, enough of that,” he interrupts sharply before she can say any more about her and his sister’s sex life. He already knows far too much about it as it is. “No one asked you to come.”

Nora tips her head at him. “Not in so many words, no. But if I had to listen to one more minute of you hemming and hawing about whether you could make the appointment or whether this was the ‘right place for you’”—she adds the air quotes, annoyingly—“I was gonna start breaking things.” Something softens in her expression, then. “You do belong in these spaces, you know.”

“I know,” he mutters, staring down into his lap. He’s even getting better at believing it.

At that, Nora returns to her lube investigation, and Alex rage-reads some twitter threads until someone steps up to the empty chair next to him and says in a mellifluous British accent, “Pardon me, is this seat taken?”

The waiting room is not that crowded, so Alex doesn’t know why this guy needs to sit directly next to him. He’s in the middle of trying to figure out a polite way to convey this when he finally looks up and right into what he’s pretty sure are the bluest pair of eyes on the planet. Jesus fuck, this man might be the most attractive person he’s ever laid eyes on in person. He doesn’t actually seem like he could be real, but he’s here, looking hopefully at Alex like he wants to be next to him, which is, let’s just say, intriguing—

“It’s only— there’s an outlet on the wall here, and my phone is dying,” Blue Eyes says with an apologetic smile.

Right. So, not particularly interested in sitting next to Alex, then. And that’s definitely not a hollow feeling of disappointment settling into his stomach.

“Yeah, no problem, man,” Alex says, trying to school his expression into something appropriate for conversing with strangers. “It’s all yours.”

Blue Eyes thanks him and takes the seat as he reaches into his bag to pull out a phone cord. The thing is, the outlet is kind of under the chairs and between the two of them, which necessitates some twisting and bending as he tries to blindly reach for it. That definitely doesn’t seem to be working, though, so Alex ends up twisting in his chair too to try to see if he can help.

“A little lower, I think—”

“Oh, thank you, I just can’t quite feel—”

“Fuck, you’re too far now— look, you need to shift to the right, yeah, there—”

“Ah, there it goes,” Blue Eyes murmurs with a pleased hum that brings to mind a very different setting than the one they’re currently in.

This seems to occur to Blue Eyes at the same time as it does Alex, which is approximately when they both look up and realize that their faces have ended up quite close together. Blue Eyes’ cheeks are rapidly turning a lurid pink; Alex quickly replays their previous exchange in his head and yeah, fuck. Suggestive doesn’t seem to begin to cover it. Slowly, Blue Eyes straightens, his posture stiff and eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

“Er, thank you,” he coughs.

“Don’t mention it,” Alex mumbles in response.

A strained silence settles over them that’s somehow heavier than your usual odd-encounter-with-a-stranger awkwardness. At some point during this encounter, Nora had disappeared to god knows where, so Alex doesn’t even have her company to fall back on. He scrolls on his phone without actually reading anything on it, half hoping one of them will be called into the doctor and half dreading it. Next to him, Blue Eyes is typing furiously with his thumbs.

Alex shouldn’t interrupt him. Just… mind his own business. That would be the reasonable thing to do.

Oh well.

“So, come here often?” he tries to joke, only to realize too late the implications behind asking such a question in a sexual health clinic. He grimaces, hard. “Fuck, I didn’t mean— you don’t have to answer that. I was just— trying to make it not awkward.”

To his relief, Blue Eyes just looks amused. “And made it exceedingly awkward instead?” he replies with a tiny smirk tilting his perfect mouth. There’s a mole right next to the corner of it that Alex would very much like to bite. “I do visit regularly, in fact,” he continues after a moment. “I consider my and my partners’ sexual health to be very important.”

Fuck, that just makes him hotter, which shouldn’t be physically possible. “Lucky person,” Alex hears himself say. “Your partner.”

“Oh, I, uh,” Blue Eyes stammers slightly. “I’m not dating anyone. Currently, that is. I’m just getting out of a relationship, actually.”

“Sorry,” Alex winces.

“Don’t be,” he replies lightly, a flickering smile on his lips. “I’m well shot of him. Anyway, it’s been long enough. Thought I should get back out there.”

“Oh,” Alex says. That’s a good sign, right? Alex could just ask him out. They could have fun if nothing else. That’s all he’s looking for right now. And he’s good at picking people—women, anyway—up. Or was, historically. He just needs to… say something charming. “Well, good luck, then.”

Not that.

He’s really, really hoping he’s not misreading the look of resignation that flickers across Blue Eyes’ face. Before Alex can figure out how to make his big mouth say something useful, though, Blue Eyes’ gaze flickers up behind him. “Ah, your partner’s returned.”

Alex glances back long enough to see Nora flopping down into the chair next to him with more lube samples. “Oh, she’s not my—”

“Alex?” a nurse calls from the other side of the waiting room, leaving him little other choice but to get up and follow her. Blue Eyes shoots him a tight smile and a tiny nod of acknowledgement that they’re probably never going to see each other again before Alex turns and starts walking away.

He’s halfway through the door to the exam rooms when he glances back to see Blue Eyes still watching him, which is frankly more than he can take.

“Sorry, just— forgot something,” he says to the nurse before all but sprinting back to his chair. He plucks Blue Eyes’ phone right out of his slack grip, opens a new contact page, and types in his number. Then, as if he’s in some kind of fever dream, he actually says, “Let me know when you get your results,” and winks.

Alex hurries off again before the nurse can call after him, leaving one extremely stunned Brit in his wake.

~~~~

A week later, Alex’s test results from the clinic show up in his inbox. He’s clean, of course, no surprises there, but the visit itself had been worthwhile—he’d found himself talking to the doctor about aspects related to his health and wellness that went beyond what he might encounter now that he’d be branching out, so to speak—so all in all, not a waste of time.

His phone stays silent, though.

Of course it was always a long shot. That doesn’t change the bitter taste of disappointment on his tongue that not even his endless cups of coffee can cover up. He gets the results on a Friday and lets himself be dragged out to a club on Saturday night to ‘celebrate’, though he ends up politely rebuffing the advances of everyone who hits on him. Nora gives him a look after the third one—a tall, gorgeous brunet with a jaw chiseled out of marble and blue eyes that do give him a half a second of pause—but he shrugs her off.

On Monday morning, he’s in the middle of a conference with a partner and a client when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He assumes it’s Nora or June, so he nearly drops the damned thing on the floor when he finally gets out and swipes open to see a screenshot of an email that looks suspiciously familiar. There’s one key difference, though: under ‘name’ at the top, the text says Henry Fox-Mountchristen.

The screenshot has been sent without comment or followup, just a dry, clinical report, and somehow it’s still one of the sexiest texts he’s ever gotten. Fuck, he’s at work.

Which is exactly what he sends back to Henry. (Henry, he thinks, mulling over the name. It suits him. Alex would very much like to taste it, pressed into his skin.)

Apologies, but you did ask to be informed.

Am I to assume this was an academic interest, or…?

nothing academic about what i want to do to you, sweetheart

Right, then. Jolly good. Are you free this weekend?

Alex wants to say he’s free tonight, actually, so they can put those results to good use, but halfway through writing his reply, he stops. Yes, he wants Henry in his bed, but he also doesn’t want Henry to think he’s only interested in sex. Which is exactly the opposite of what he told himself he was going to do when he started exploring his bisexuality. He shouldn’t be looking for a relationship, and there’s no guarantee Henry is interested in one either. Maybe he’s just busy until then.

Alex thinks another moment, then sends back: what did you have in mind?

~~~~~

(Henry takes him on a date date, all romantic candlelit dinner with a single red rose and a walk in Central Park afterward with their fingers tangled together. And when he finally leans in to kiss Alex, it’s soft and sweet and Alex feels it down to his fucking toes. So, like. That’s a whole thing.

Turns out that they do make good use of their test results that night, thoroughly. And again, the next morning in the shower. And again and again, until they each get a reminder email from the clinic that it’s time for a regular screening.

Which they each promptly delete.)

[themultifandomgal]

Harry Styles- Insecurities

Being the girlfriend of Harry Styles can come with many cons as well as pros. We’ve been together now for 3 years. For 2 of those years we kept our relationship quiet for a few different reasons. The first being Harry knew that I would have a fair bit of hate, which would be expected since his fans just want the best for him. I was worried that people (news outlets) would say I’m only with him for the money and fame. Harry is a private person just as I am and neither of us really wanted our relationship out in the public. We enjoyed our own little bubble. Unfortunately our own little bubble was burst after Harry’s phone was hacked and photos of us cuddled on the sofa and kissing were leaked. Harry’s PR team we’re amazing and during any interview about our relationship Harry always responds with “I’d like to keep that part of my life private”. Of course I love him and I know he loves me, but there are times when I can feel very insecure thanks to the media. I try not to look at it, but it’s everywhere.

Before Harry, I was in another relationship. It was toxic. He would often point out little imperfections of mine which caused me to become quite self conscious. Since dating Harry things did get better, but just like anyone you have good days and bad days.

Harry is currently on a break from tour, so I’ve come away with him and his family. Gemma and I are sunbathing while Harry went to get us some drinks. I smile as I watch Harry walking back to us. He’s then stopped by a woman who at first I thought was just a fan, and maybe she is, but when I see her flirting with Harry the insecurities start to bubble

"Are you ok?” Gemma asks, probably seeing my smile drop. She’s beautiful. Long flowing brown hair, tan long legs, and even from here I can tell her skin is so clear she doesn’t need any makeup.

"Look at her"

"Who the girl?"

"Yeah. Look she's so pretty nothing like me. Sometimes I wonder why Harry’s with me. I have stretch marks on my thighs, cellulite, my skin isn’t perfect. My stomach isn’t flat. I just can’t help but think he could do so much better than me” I turn to look at Gemma who’s become my best friend over the last few years.

"Oh YN. I know you struggled after your ex. He was an awful human. But you know just as well as I do that Harry doesn't care about all that. He’s not a shallow person. He loves you just the way you are. God he doesn’t shut up about you half the time. I’ve heard he whines most of the time on your asking when your arriving”

“Everythin’ ok?” Harry asks walking over to us frowning

"I'm going to give you two some space" Gemma gets up and walks over to Anne and Robbin. I a sit up and cross my legs looking down at the stretch marks staring at me

"What's wrong?"

"Why are you with me?"

"Because I love you. You know that" Harry says confused. I sigh "is this about that girl?" I nod my head "oh YN come here" Harry pulls me into him "yes she was flirtin but I told her that I had a girlfriend that I love very much. She then apologised and asked if she could have my autograph. I said no because ‘m on holiday and would like to enjoy m’self. You know I love you more than I ever thought could be possible”

“Even though I’m not a hollywood supermodel?”

“You are one in my eyes. You are smart, kind, and very sexy” this makes me laugh a little as Harry kisses my cheek

"I’m sorry. I try not the be so insecure”

“I know you do love. You don’t need to apologise. Your still learnin to love yourself after your ex and deal with the media”

“How did I get so lucky with you?”

“More like how did I get so lucky with you. Love you”

“Love you too”

[heyitslapis]

me: *takes a deep breath* me: So Al- anyone who has spent five seconds on my dash: yes, Alex flirts with you, we know, Alex flirts with you so much, you're the light of her life, she loves you so much, Alex just loves you, we KNOW, Alex flirts with you Alex fucking flirts with you ok we know, we get it, ALEX FLIRTS WITH YOU. WE GET IT.

[keilemlucent]

a night less cold

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~7.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks

happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?

you aren’t.

warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink 

...

a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!! 

thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕

|||||||||||

Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle. 

It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.

It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.

The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well. 

And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously. 

The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.

...

December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.

As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly. 

You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.

“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”

Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.

He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back. 

“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”

“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”

“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”

Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?” 

“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”

He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”

That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.

“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”

Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.

It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—

Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort. 

You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.

“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.

“Feels like it.”

You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day. 

A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.

Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.

Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed. 

“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”

You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”

Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.

“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.

...

It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.

He just wanted to rest.

Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.

He couldn’t rest most of the time.

His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.

But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.

It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.

It hardly was.

Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift. 

When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do. 

He had the privilege of taking care of you.

You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.

...

You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”

“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”

“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”

Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.

He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were. 

Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.

As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.

“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”

You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were. 

“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles. 

Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix. 

You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.

The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.

Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work. 

...

It proved to not just be a dry throat. 

As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.

As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.

The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts. 

The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.

Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull. 

(It didn’t.)

After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.

The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report. 

All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home. 

Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.

You had time, you resolved, you could fix this. 

Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.

You couldn’t be. 

The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.

As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills. 

Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.

You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness. 

Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.

The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.

Was pouring water always this hard?

You ignored the thought.

Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.

(As if you weren’t already burning up.)

You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.

You just needed a quick nap. 

As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.

...

Your dreams were sordid.

Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets. 

...

Tap, tap, tap.

...

The sound made your ears burn. 

You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

...

It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality. 

The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap— 

...

“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea. 

Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock— 

8:34 PM.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap— 

As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.

Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.

His party was starting within the hour.

You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold. 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.

Your shaking hands undid the latch. 

You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes— 

As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes— 

Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips. 

“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.

“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”

You prayed your excuse would be enough. 

“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.

You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—

But Keigo was always faster.

He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.

“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.

“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”

Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.

You both stilled.

You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on. 

“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”

“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”

That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.

Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.

“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.

Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”

Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.

Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize. 

“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”

You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.

Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.

“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”

“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”

It was.

Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.

You were supposed to be on his arm—

Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.

“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“

“I’m f-fine!” 

It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.

“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you. 

Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.

He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”

That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.

“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”

You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.

...

Keigo’s heart hurt.

His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.

You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.

His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.

“But it’s your birthday—”

“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”

That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.

“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.

“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”

Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective. 

Why is he being so insistent?

“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”

...

That might’ve been too much.

Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way. 

And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.

You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—

“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head. 

You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.

“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.

“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”

You were both silent for a while.

The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.

His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.

You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.

“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”

...

Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets. 

He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it. 

You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.

Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”

Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.

You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.

101.8 °F.

“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”

“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”

You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.

“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”

“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”

He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.

Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?

“A lot. It’s just a lot.”

“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering. 

Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.

“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”

It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—

Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”

...

You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”

You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.

“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”

You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise. 

You both wrapped up the other in an instant.

Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.

“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”

“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair. 

“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”

Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms. 

“Are you sure?” 

You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.

“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”

And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.

...

Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach. 

Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.

Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.

He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.

The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere. 

...

You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.

The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze. 

There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized. 

Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt. 

“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”

“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”

“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”

Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.

Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”

You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.

Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.

His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.

Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself. 

Either way, Keigo was grateful for it. 

You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.

Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.

You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.

Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.

12:03 AM.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips. 

You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.

“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”

Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw. 

Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.

...

The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.

It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.

Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake. 

Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.

You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.

Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring. 

“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips. 

“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”

And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”

You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.

Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind. 

If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.

The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.

Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.

Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”

“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”

Thank God.

Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.

99.3 °F.

“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”

“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”

“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you. 

“But it’s your birthday— “

Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”

You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty. 

There wasn’t even one.

“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”

Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”

You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”

Keigo needed no other command.

...

You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.

That day didn’t feel like that.

“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”

The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.

“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways. 

That was your privilege.

Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.

There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves. 

That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.

He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.

Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.

You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.

He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.

Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.

Keigo stole it back quickly.

Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.

Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn. 

And Keigo wanted more.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.

“C-can I have a pillow?” 

“For your hips?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.

The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.

With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.

The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.

He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.

“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”

Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”

It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind. 

Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.

But, he had to be tender. 

Had to be.

“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”

“You mean it, little bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.

There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust. 

Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.

You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.

Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper— 

“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”

Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”

Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.

“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”

Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”

“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?” 

Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.

Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Gluttons, the both of you.

As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.

Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—

“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”

You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.

As much as he took, he gave.

It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.

With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.

You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.

Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.

You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.

“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks. 

“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”

“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”

He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?

 “Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”

And he couldn’t be happier about it. 

 ||||||||||||||||||

thank you for reading!!!! 💕

ko-fi

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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[its-me-im-coraline]

Since we were younger // Thomas Raggi

words // 1441

warnings // fluff and angst

pairing // Thomas Raggi x F!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. i was planning on putting this photo on some headcannons so if you see it twice in my fics excuse me lol. I actually really fucking loved this trope omg, it came out pretty good! I'm also excited cause i keep writing more and more words as i go with writing fanfiction and yay im excited.

request // yes, here and here

summary // Reader is Victoria’s sister and the same age as Thomas. The two were in the same class in school, always around each other and even more as they grew older. Lots of angsty emotions and mutual pinning later Victoria invites her sister to the Maneskin house were all the secrets come out.

It all started at a young age. They met as kids, maybe around the age of six, never once thinking of each other as anything more than friends. They would play around, yell at each other, get hurt and take care of one another; and all over again went the cycle. The though of love was not in the picture yet, not that they would understand it.

As teenage years rolled around is when they first started seeing the symptoms of feelings in their behaviors. Y/N was the first to notice her feelings, understanding very quickly that she were simply fucked. It was a simple moment, one that under most circumstances would go unnoticed - but that’s how love is, it hits you like a lightning, no warning, no nothing.

It was a Sunday, she remembers that distinctively, it was after the band was all together and grouping us at the home studio to work on their music, inviting some friends over to help them relax after working all day. Victoria had obviously invited her little sister to tag along, knowing very well that even is she didn’t a very tall blonde skinny boy would. It was literally nothing out of th ordinary, Y/N was just sitting next to Thomas, feet dipped in the pool, the moon was up lighting up the space just enough for the two to see each other as they spoke about nothing and everything. The conversation started about foods continuing to games and movies and then fighting over movie characters and in that moment Y/N knew. She caught herself looking at the boy for a little too long, touching her leg to his as they sat too close on the pool side. She found herself longing to be held by him, but she kept it in. She knew that with their career taking off she had no chance to be with Thomas.

Victoria was the second person to figure out that either of the two teenagers had feelings for each other. Not few were the times she would catch her sister stealing glances at the band’s guitarist, or hugging him for longer than anyone else. She also was not blind and she could see how they held each other during those summer nights they spend by the pool, before and during the aforementioned visit. They clung onto each other for dear life, becoming pouty when either had to go for a few minutes. Originally she ignored it writing off as them just being… well, them - considering that that’s how they were together since they were children, until one day the younger girl confided in her when they were back at their own house.

“I think I really like him, Vic.”

“That’s amazing, Y/N! Oh my, that’s good news! Thomas is a good guy-”

“Yeah, but one that does not want me and would struggle to be with me now.”

“Why would he stru-”

“Vic, are you blind?! Do you not see your life right now? You are working like crazy, show here, show there… Dami already had a relationship and he’s struggling to keep up, let alone me with Thomas, on a new relationship,” she rambled, telling herself that this would be the only reason Thomas would not want to be with her; or at least she was trying to convince herself that she really cared about that reasoning.

Victoria said nothing after that, dropping the subject but never forgetting her sister’s thoughts. Instead she opted to observing the two younger teenagers. It was extremely obvious how they harbored feelings for each other, at least until Thomas got into a short-lived relationship.

Y/N was heartbroken, going back to her sister in hopes of calming her mind and tears. Being Thoma’s best friend came with all the complaining about ‘why doesn’t she show that she likes me’ until he asked her out and the ‘she is so amazing, last night this…’ type of conversations. She could not refuse him an outlet to rant, that’s what they did since they were kids, rant about the good and the bad, never judging each other. But this time Y/N could not take it. It all felt too much, feeling the pain of rejection and feeding her own head with insecurities day after day… she broke, in the arms of Victoria.

The third people to figure it out were both Ethan and Damiano. They happened to be sitting next to each other as Thomas stormed in the living room, fuming from his anger, his face being red, ready to burst.

“What’s gotten your knickers in a twist, buddy?” Asked Damiano, always in good spirit but truly surprised at his friends expression.

Thomas looked like he could not possibly get any angrier but that was proven wrong as Damiano finished his question. He slowly turned his head to face him, giving him a glare before huffing and looking at the floor. “She’s dating him.” He spit out the last word as if venom, pointing at a photo on his phone.

It was a photo of Victoria’s sister, sitting on the lap of a boy they both knew in school. Y/N sent it to Thomas while letting him know of her current flirt. She never believed it would become very serious, so she did not think to much of this conversation. Truth be told, she knew Thom was in a relationship which is the reason she looked into dating other people. She kept thinking how she should not stay like that, wallowing in the pain he was so oblivious towards, but her mind would not drift far away.

“Didn’t you go to school with him?” Asked Ethan, more to Damiano than Thomas, knowing the latter was to livid to respond.

“Yes. He’s a year older than them, His name’s Ignazio,” he responded, turning back to the youngest of the three. “So what exactly is your problem. You have a girlfriend.”

Thomas huffed, again, at Damiano’s words, looking down, being truly unaware as to why he even bothered. “He -agh… He just is not good enough for her. I just care for my best friends, you wouldn’t understand.” He pulled his phone out of Ethan’s hands, storming of the room.

At that the two remaining boys shared a knowing look, understanding very well that if Thomas did not figure out his feelings soon, the two would have problems.

The last person to understand was Thomas. It was the latest time the band had gotten to the studio home with their friends. It was right after eurovision, Thomas’ relationship was long broken at that point, Y/N’s as well. This time around the two were sitting at the steps of the patio, cigarette held between trembling hands, as the chilly night took over them. She looked so cold, so vulnerable, so fucked out after spending all day by the pool, swimming and sunbathing. Oh, to be the sun looking down at her, touching her beautiful face with the hot rays. Thomas was infatuated, taken aback by just how wonderful she looked that night, her skin glowing under the moonlight. As she sat there shivering is when Thomas realized he liked her- no, no, was in love with her, and he knew he had to act now.

“Are you cold, dolcessa? I have a jacket you can borrow.”

“I do actually,” she whispered, not sure if it was truly ok for her to even say it.

“Give me a moment, I’ll bring it,” Thomas responded, smashing his cigarette on the tray and practically running inside to bring his jacket.

As he came back he laid the piece of fabric on the girl’s back, making a point of holding her close afterwards, giving her extra warmth. “Is this any better?”

“Perfect,” she sighed, settling into the boy’s arms.

“You know, Y/N… You look absolutely beautiful right now.” He decided to be bold this moment, he couldn’t wait any longer, in fears of any more Ignazios taking her away.

“Oh, do I?”

“You do. I-I just want to say I like you,” he let out, not even thinking of what to say, quickly thinking that his way of expressing it was idiotic.

“You do?”

“I do, Y/N, truly. And it took me too long to realize.”

“Maybe you are a bit clueless, if you think about it,” she laughed, placing her palms on his sweet face. “You sweet, sweet puppy,” she said in a soft tone, all the while eying the man’s lips.

“Well, why don’t you make this sweet puppy very happy and just… kiss me?”

“Maybe I will.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie

[defiantsuggestions]

i’m a closeted ftm (so rn i’m basically just comp cis) and when i flirt or just talk to boys my age, i feel like an imposter, like i’m lying to them. they like me for my attractive feminine body, and when i tell people that i want to become muscular or wear boyish clothes they tell me i’m wasting my looks, makes me feel bad. and sometimes i do think that life would be easier if i just followed along and played the role. but my patience is wearing thin and idk how long i can stay unauthentic..

tldr: i feel like an imposter in the body i’m in

idk if ur trans, but even if not, have u ever felt like u were presenting a lie to others? if so what did u do?

(btw i luv ur blog <3)

I'm so sorry you're dealing with that anon. That sounds increadably uncomfortable and distressing, and you shouldn't have to go through being perceived as something you're not.

I'm not trans, so I don't have experience with this particular situation, but I have often been perceived as a variety of things that aren't me throughout my life. Mostly in the form of opinions that others have projected on me.

With my family, I was often the designated therapist, there to sit and have them dump their anger and trauma on me but not allowed to say anything about myself in return. They would decide I had character traits and then get offended if I disagreed.

I'm so used to sitting there and nodding and agreeing with whatever I'm told about myself that it's a struggle now, to keep myself from defaulting to the old rules I once lived by.

And it's an ongoing thing I'm trying to practice. I have to remind myself to speak and make myself known, and defend myself if someone makes a decision about me that I know is not correct.

In my experience, it's very much the people I'm surrounded by that's made the difference. I need to be allowed to practice my boundaries in order to learn to have them, and the people I'm with are respectful in that regard. When I wasn't allowed bounderies, I found a lot of comfort in online spaces, sharing myself with internet friends where I was unable to in my daily life.

I prioritized my own safety first- arguments with my abusers weren't worth the risk- and I practiced my autonomy in places where I felt safe.

And there are slip-ups. A while back, during a social event with some people I didn't really know, someone asked if the name I go by was my "real" name or a nickname. I answered instinctively that, oh, no, it's not my "real" name, I just don't like my given name, and then I gave them a name that I absolutely loathe. It didn't hit me that I could have answered them differently until after the fact.

I went to some trusted friends and I stressed to both them and myself that my chosen name is my real name, and that I should respect it as such. Yes, there are certain situations where I have no choice but to use my given name, but that doesn't mean that my chosen name is any less real.

My advice would be to 1: do what keeps you safe, your safety and wellbeing takes priority, and I would never want you to do anything that might put you in danger, and 2: pick, or otherwise find, some friends whom you trust to be yourself with, and practice being yourself with them.

Even if only in online spaces. Feeling seen and validated is important, and you deserve to have an outlet where you can be yourself without feeling like an imposter. Who you are as a person matters. (Do practice internet safety, of course, don't give a stranger you just met personally identifying details.)

I'll also say that, people who tell you that you're "wasting your looks" when you say you want to be more masculine aren't your friends. They're in the wrong for telling you that. It's their problem, not yours. They're not the kind of people who have your best interests at heart.

No one should ever, ever tell you what you can and can't do with your body. If their response to you saying you want something is to complain about how they prefer you a different way, they are disrespecting you and your boundaries.

If you are forced into presenting a lie by others, it is on them for forcing you into that position. It is not a flaw on your part for being forced into that role. If they push you toward feminity when you tell them you want to be masculine, they are not safe and you deserve better.

I hope you get to a place where you can be seen as yourself doon, anon. All of my care and support to you.

(And thank you <3 it means a lot to me~ You're a good person and I hope you have a safe, peaceful day.)

[joheun-saram]

To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 02

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, slow burn, fluff eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut 

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger's house. 

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Everytime he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash. 

As he brushed his teeth today, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year. 

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he doesn’t need the tutoring anymore, he does enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would be an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but everytime he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he can’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head. 

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous.

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez. Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while staring at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh... this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter. 

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

  ____________________________

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it.” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first...” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon... slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session. 

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that. 

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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[putas-in-suffering]

What's one thing you love about our kings? (aside from the sexy, God's gift looks that they have) and which of the guys would you date based on their personality?

YOU GUYS...

WE LOVE THESE TYPES OF QUESTIONS SO MUCH!

We had to think on these, but it allowed us to really remember why we love our novios.

Let’s get into it...

What we love about our Kings:

Angel has an intense loyalty and dedication to those he loves and cares for. We’ve seen him go hard for his family, the club, and Adelita. We love that about him. It let’s you know that he’s a real ride or die, in any situation 😌

EZ has such a comforting, chill vibe that we are all the way into lol. He has a high functioning mind, but he always seems to keep his cool. Even in chaotic situations, he seems to keep his head on straight and think things through…for the most part. It’s a low key vibe. He’s content to be a spectator rather than the center of attention and we respect that. Plus, he seems hella kind and attentive. That’s attractive af 🥰

Bishop has big dick energy that we find extremely appealing. And that’s most likely a testament to his power position and his experience as an older man. The confidence he exudes is sexy. It’s a self-assuredness that reads as swag…and we’re about it. We also have a daddy kink that doesn’t sleep so Bishop fits the mold, ya know 😏

Miguel’s arrogance and stoicism really speaks to these putas. Something about his suave, casual asshole-ish demeanor is attractive. He comes off as quick witted and very intelligent. A man about his business. And his attitude has longevity lol. He seems like he’d be fun to banter with and we love talking shit 🙃

Who would we date?

(Irrelevantwriter) Vanessa says:

This next part was fucking hard. No joke. It also doesn’t help that I’m super indecisive, and a bitch with twenty different moods and personalities for every occasion so I felt like I could literally date any of them.

But…

If I had to choose…

Even though Angel/Clayton is literally the physical manifestation of “my type”...

I’m going with Miguel. He seems like a challenge and I love that. I like being kept on my toes and having an edge to a courtship. I tend to flirt by being a smartass while also insulting the object of my affections so if a man can keep up, he’s a winner. And Miguel seems like the type to not bat an eye at shit like that. He looks like he could give as good as he gets. Also, as a high functioning Virgo, I need my space from people. I can get irritated quickly. And I’m very independent so dating a man who has his own shit is appealing and much needed. And a partner who can be gone for extended periods of time is ideal...absence makes the heart grow fonder right?

(likedovesinthewnd) Ashley says:

Angel is my choice, hands down. Our novio feels shit deeply and he goes hard for those he loves. I have a kink about fixing broken things and that applies to people too 🙃 Angel’s insecurities speak to this puta on a real level. He obviously has difficulty accepting love and all that comes with it. The urge for me to love him based solely on that fact is high. Like I just wanna hold our emo novio and love him and spoil him like the king that he is. I want to feel all the feelings. It’s what I’m down to do always. If Angel wants to talk about his trauma, I’m there ready and waiting to offer whatever comfort my man needs. Like long convos about emotions is some real foreplay for me and Angel needs that kind of outlet. He needs the support. Plus, the man has swag that’ll make a bitch fall to her knees in an instant. Not only is he sexy, but he has the range to be so much more. He’s smart, funny, loyal, and attentive to those he fucks with. And he’s hella easy on the eyes 😏

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Void Bonus Chapter - Jungkook

Summary: Jungkook finds something he wasn't supposed to find. 

A/N: Takes place at the same time as the beginning scenes of Chapter 4 of Void. 

Warnings: voyeurism, masturbation

The news from the meeting lingers in the air of the kitchen. Jungkook and Jin are the only ones left. Everyone scattered after the meeting, rushing off to do important things. But Jungkook doesn’t have any important things to do. Maybe he should get up and go somewhere else, but where is he going to go? The ship only has so many rooms and he’s already spent months in each of them.

Jin is eating, because of course Jin is eating. Normally, Jungkook would join him, but he’s not hungry. Maybe he should do another workout. He’d already done one this morning, but another never hurt. It was one of the few things he liked doing here.

He picks up his camera and looks back through the footage he recorded of the meteoroid. If he knows how much editing he has in front of him, then he can decide how much time he has left for exercise.

The science officer returns to the kitchen, scanning the room. Jungkook looks up, but she’s not looking for him. She’s more interested in Jin and his food. He turns his attention back to the camera.

No footage would be worth the extra two years of his life, but it would be comforting to discover he shot something good. People on Earth might be watching this footage for a decade before the Minos ever returns home. Better at least be in focus.

He uses the screen on the back of the camera to scan through his videos. It’s too small to tell if the focus is quite right, but he’s pleased with his framing. He smiles when the two science officers say goodbye to the meteor. They are cute. It’ll make a great ending moment.

He keeps scrolling through the camera, flicking further back in time, until an entirely different image appears.

Boobs. There are naked boobs starring at him from his small camera screen. Holy shit! It’s a whole naked woman! He can’t see her face from the way the shot is cropped, but he can see everything else.

Jin laughs and Jungkook looks up, afraid they’ve noticed the scandalous thing he’s found, but his crew members are too busy flirting with each other to pay attention to him.

He must have accidentally stolen Yoongi’s porn stash when he went hunting for more camera memory. He flicks back further to see what other illicit treasures he has stumbled upon, but there’s nothing else here. The only other things on this card are some scenery shots that Taehyung took a few weeks back from the observation bay. Why was Yoongi keeping just one naked woman on a mission SD card?

Jin asks him something, jolting Jungkook from his investigation.

“Huh?” Jungkook asks.

Jin holds out a tiny bottle of vodka. “Want one?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nah, I still have chores today,” he lies. “Plus I think I might be up late editing footage.” Or up late watching Yoongi’s mystery video.

“Get anything good?” the science officer asks, leaning over to look at the camera screen. Shit. He can't let her see that. While the male members of crew traded porn back and forth occasionally to cope with the lack of other sexual outlets, they kept it strictly secret from their female colleague. She would not approve.

“Uh.” Jungkook snatches up the camera. “It’s okay.”

“Are you alright?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at his complete lack of sublety. He eyes the door. It was almost too much for him when she gave him her whole focus like that. She was so smart and he felt like an idiot in front of her, always doing something dumb or saying the wrong thing.

“It is what it is.” He shrugs, eager to get her to stop paying attention to him. “I should get going.” He stands up, taking the camera with him. He almost makes it to the door when he remembers that he did have something he wanted to talk to her about. “Officer?”

“Yeah?” She spins around to look at him.

“Can you help me with that haircut tomorrow?” Just another way he was defective. Every other crew member seemed to manage this without her help. “I need to send a message to my mom.” Why did he sound like such a small pathetic boy?

“Of course.” She gives him a smile that he imagines she thinks is kind, but feels condescending. “Meet me in the observation bay after the morning chores.”

“Thank you, Officer,” he replies before fleeing into the hallway with his new secret.

Jungkook rushes to the editing lab. It was the closest thing to his own room he had on the ship, other than his sleep pod. But the editing lab had the nicer video monitor. The only other person who ever used the editing lab was Taehyung, but Taehyung said he needed to work on something with Jimin.

The lab is small, only slightly bigger than the sleeping pods. There was only room for one computer, monitor mounted on the wall, and a small desk with barely enough room for a keyboard and mouse. The best thing about the lab was the chair. It took up most of the space in the room but it was worth it. The engineers at the ICSE had custom designed this chair for him to be comfortable in both the artificial gravity and the zero-g so Jungkook could edit at any time of day. It’s the best seat on the Minos.

Jungkook boots up his computer to find sixteen red notifications blinking at him from the ICSE’s messaging service. They’re all from his mother. A wave of guilt washes over him about how he should be watching and responding to those rather than watching Yoongi’s mysterious naked woman video.

For a moment, his conscience gets the better of him and he opens his mother’s messages instead. But as he scrolls through them, it becomes clear that there’s a least an hour and a half of video to get through. He promises himself that he’ll do it first thing tomorrow. But right now he really wants to watch Yoongi’s porn.

He pops the SD card out of the back of the camera and into the computer. He skims past the meteoroid footage, back to the woman he caught a glimpse of in the kitchen.

The camera is zoomed in close, so close that her face has been cropped out of the shot. He can’t tell where she is. She appears to be sitting on a table, a bumpy yellow cloth beneath her. Her legs are spread wide with her feet on the edge of the table, putting everything on display for the camera. He hits play and watches as she lifts one hand up out of frame, then brings back two fingers slick with spit and begins circling her nipple. Her whole body shudders as she breaks out in goosebumps and her pussy clenches in response.

Holy shit. Jungkook’s dick twitches in interest as he searches for his headphones with one hand, eyes fixed to the computer screen. He needs to hear her.

Where did Yoongi get this video? Jungkook could have sworn he’s seen every explicit video on this ship at least three times, even the tentacle shit. But he’s never seen this. Has Yoongi had this the whole time? Why has he been keeping it from the rest of them?

Jungkook finally locates his headphones. He gets them on just in time to hear the woman moan as she circles her perky nipple with her fingers. He has to adjust his pants to make room for his growing erection.

“That’s good.” A man’s voice grunts from off camera. “Keep going.” Jungkook is so startled to hear a man’s voice it takes him a second to realize that it’s a voice he knows well.

Fuck. It’s Yoongi. Yoongi filmed this himself. Perhaps that’s why he never shared it. He must know this woman. An old girlfriend perhaps? Lucky bastard.

Jungkook should stop watching. This is clearly something private and important to his crew member and he definitely shouldn’t be watching it. But her entrance is glistening with arousal now and he can’t bring himself to stop. Yoongi doesn't need to know. Jungkook will just watch it once, then sneak it back. No harm, no foul.

“Are you wet?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook has to stifle a groan. She’s dripping.

“So wet,” she murmurs, voice husky with sex. She shifts as she reaches her fingers down to her dripping core and a large piece of the wall becomes visible behind her.

The Kevlar-lined wall.

No. No fucking way. Jungkook looks at the wall behind his computer and back to the wall behind the woman. He would recognize those walls anywhere. They’re the only walls he’s seen for two years.

Everything clicks. This is Yoongi’s workshop. The naked woman is perched on top of Yoongi’s workbench. Jungkook took this SD card from where it was sitting next to the power drill. The power drill that is currently propped next to her naked thigh.

And that means…

No. It can’t possibly be. She would never.

He backs up to video to hear her again. Fuck… it is her. He’s never heard her voice like that, breathless and rough with need, but there’s no mistaking it now. Their chief science officer is masturbating on Yoongi’s workbench.

Holy fucking shit.

“Touch your clit,” Yoongi commands and Jungkook’s dick kicks with excitement. The only woman within 200 million miles of him circles her clit with her wet fingers and gives a long deep moan.

This is wrong. This is so wrong. This is absolutely not a thing Jungkook was ever meant to find. But how did it get here? Why did it exist? Were she and Yoongi dating? Why wouldn't they tell the crew?

“Do you wish it was my fingers right now instead of yours?” Yoongi asks. Jungkook groans out loud as she slides two fingers inside herself and moans again. He wishes those were his fingers. How can Yoongi just stand there, not touching her? If she would let Jungkook touch her, he’s not sure he could ever stop. It’s been so long since he’s been able to hold a woman. His hands tingle with the desire to run his fingers all over her. Her skin must be so soft and smooth, her cunt so warm and wet. Fuck.

Jungkook is so fucked.

“Don’t worry,” Yoongi whispers. It’s so quiet that Jungkook has to turn up the volume to make it out. “I won’t touch you. I know the rules.”

What rules? What kind of weird sex game is this? Why can’t he touch her? She was into kinkier things than he would have guessed. And Yoongi was a much stronger man than Jungkook.

“Do you wish it was me?” Yoongi asks again and for a moment Jungkook let’s himself pretend he’s the one behind the camera.

“Yes, god,” she moans breathlessly and Jungkook wants to die. His dick is throbbing for attention at this point, but he knows if he lets himself touch it, it’ll all be over. How is he ever going to be able to be in the same room with her again? He puts his head down on the desk and groans in frustration.

“What about Jimin?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook picks his head back up. Jimin? Why is he bringing up Jimin at a time like this?

“This is his video.” Yoongi adds. “Don’t you wish he was here too?”

What? No. Jungkook doesn’t want Jimin to be there too. What did that mean, “it’s Jimin’s video”? Did Jimin put them up to this?

They exchange more whispers, but Jungkook misses it in the shock that a third crew member is on this sex game. Was she dating both Yoongi and Jimin? And they were cool with that?

She moans again as another gush of wetness soaks her fingers. She is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Jungkook had always thought the science officer was attractive, but there was always a barrier separating him from her. She was so closed off, so professional, so focused on the mission. He never thought he would see her like this.

“Do you wish Jimin was here right now?” Yoongi asks again, and Jungkook rolls his eyes. Who gives a shit about Jimin right now? Just fuck her already please.

“Yes,” she gasps. What about Jungkook? Does she wish Jungkook was there?

“Did you like his video?” Yoongi asks and she nods.

So is that the game? They make sexy videos and send them to each other to pass the time? Jungkook could make sexy videos. He’s never done it before, but he’s the best videographer on this ship. Yoongi has totally butchered the lighting for this scene. Jungkook could do way better.

“Do you want to suck his dick?”

She licks her lips and moans and Jungkook has never wanted anything more in the entire world than to put his cock in her mouth.

“I asked you a question.” Yoongi barks. When did the small flight engineer learn to be so commanding? “Do you want to suck his dick?”

“Yes, I want to suck his dick,” she gasps. Sweat breaks out across Jungkook’s forehead. He’s never going to be able to unhear that. He’s going to be trapped on this ship for another twelve years with this shockingly submissive woman who moans about how much she wants to suck her crew members’ dicks. This is impossible. He’s doomed himself entirely. He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t stop himself from palming himself through his jumpsuit.

“What about Hoseok?”

What the fuck? Is everyone getting laid except Jungkook? Hoseok seems like the last person who would be involved in a secret porn video swap. He never participated in the trading of videos that some of the others did.

Jungkook watches her moan and writhe at the idea of blowing yet another crew member and it just isn’t fair. What about Jungkook? Does she want to blow him as well?

“And the commander?” Well, now Jungkook knows that Yoongi is making shit up. There’s no way the commander is involved in this. The commander keeps to himself most of the time, always off on his own, doing important commander things. Jungkook isn’t entirely convinced that the commander isn’t a hyper intelligent humanoid robot, let alone has human needs like sex.

She lets out a small whimper that has him squeezing his erection harder. She must be close to coming. He wishes he could see her face. She’s normally so put together, so serious, to watch her fall apart like this must be incredible. He has never been more jealous of anyone in his life than he is of Yoongi holding that camera. Jungkook rubs his dick through the rough jumpsuit as it aches to be buried in her. Come on man, ask her about Jungkook.

Yoongi chuckles. “Is there a man on this ship you don’t want to fuck?”

Jungkook is on this ship! This is his moment.

“No,” she moans.

She wants to fuck him. It’s all the green light he needs, ripping down the zipper of his jumpsuit, finally bringing his hands to his aching cock. He lets out a sigh as he touches it, already embarrassingly hard.

“And why is that?”

Jungkook groans out loud as he speeds up his hand. God, he wants to fuck her so badly. The idea that she might be interested in him in that way had never occurred to him before, but if she really wanted him, that was almost too much.

“Tell Jimin what you are.”

Jungkook holds his breath, hand moving quickly over the slick head of his cock.

“I’m a slut.”

Holy fucking shit. He can’t take it. She’s too much for him. How Yoongi hasn’t keeled over and died yet is a mystery.

He’s speeds up his hand, feeling his pleasure begin to crescendo, when suddenly, the door behind him opens.

“Hello!” Taehyung’s voice interrupts Jungkook’s masturbating, followed a softer “Oh shit” and a chuckle.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles, forcing his dick back into his pants. “Shut the door!”

Taehyung steps into the room, shutting the door behind him, which wasn’t what Jungkook had really meant.

“What the fuck,” Jungkook groans, rearranging the sleeves of his jumpsuit around his waist to try to disguise his erection. “Don’t you knock?”

“This is the editing lab.” Taehyung fights back a smile as he takes in Jungkook’s flustered state and the naked woman still on the computer monitor. “Not some horny teenager’s bedroom.”

Jungkook’s face heats up. He spins the chair back around and closes the incriminating video on his desktop. “Can I help you with something?” he asks without turning the chair back to Taehyung.

“I was coming to see if you wanted to play a game or something,” Taehyung says from behind him, barely concealed laughter in his voice. “But I see you’ve found a better way to entertain yourself.”

Jungkook slides lower in his chair, desperately hoping Taehyung will finish his teasing and leave. But instead, Taehyung steps closer to the computer and Jungkook.

“Anything I should watch?” Taehyung asks.

“I don’t know.” Jungkook crosses his arms and pointedly looks in the opposite direction. “Just got it from Jimin,” he lies.

“Bullshit.” Taehyung laughs. “I know every frame of Jimin’s entire porn collection. And that was new. How did you get new porn?”

Jungkook slowly spins the chair to face Taehyung. “I can’t tell you,” he says, rubbing his ear.

Taehyung’s eyes widen and he leans forward. “Why not?”

“It’s private.” Maybe Taehyung will just drop it and leave him in peace.

“Was that our science officer?”

“What?” Jungkook looks back and forth from Taehyung to the monitor, pulling up the video again to see what Taehyung might have seen. “How the fuck can you tell that?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Those are our walls. It’s new porn. There’s only one woman on our ship. You’re being super weird about it-”

“Fine, fine.”Jungkook waves his hands to get him to stop listing all the reasons Jungkook should have figured it out sooner.

“My question is how did you get it?” Taehyung asks, leaning closer to inspect the video on the monitor.

“Um,” Jungkook hesitates again, but Taehyung already knows too much. “I found it in Yoongi’s workshop.”

“Yoongi?” Taehyung raises his eyebrows.

“I know, right?” Jungkook laughs, relieved he doesn’t have to keep this secret all to himself. “I would have assumed if she was dating anyone, it’d be Hoseok.”

“No way, Hoseok doesn’t have the balls.” Taehyung shakes his head. “I thought she and Jimin had something going on.”

“They keeping talking about Jimin!” Jungkook jabs at the screen in emphasis. “I can’t figure out what’s going on.”

“They?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, her and Yoongi, they made the video together, but I can’t figure out why.” Jungkook frowns at the screen.

“Let me see,” Taehyung says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

Jungkook backs up the video and restarts it. He hands the headphones to Taehyung, regretful that he won’t be able to hear her again, but also relieved because he’s not sure how he would deal with that with Taehyung standing right next to him.

Taehyung lets out a low whistle as she begins touching herself. “She’s so hot,” he says, leaning in closer to the screen.

“I know,” Jungkook groans in agreement.

“I had assumed that she was just benefitting from only-woman-we’ve-seen-in-years syndrome.” Taehyung licks his lips. “But she is really hot.”

“I know!” Jungkook leans his head back in his chair and exhales in frustration. He looks back at the beautiful needy woman on the screen and wants to touch her. “Why did you think she had something going on with Jimin?”

Taehyung reaches out and pauses the video. “Jimin sent her a video of himself jerking off.”

“What?” Jungkook sits up in surprise. “Why?”

“Cause he’s an idiot.” Taehyung laughs. “He’s had a crush on her for a long time and she asked him for porn. Couldn’t help himself, the fool.”

Jungkook looks back at the video, lower lip sticking out slightly. “Did she like it?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung nods. “Though at first he thought he seriously fucked up. But he said she told him she liked it.”

“Well, then why is she making naked videos with Yoongi?”

“That is the question,” Taehyung mutters and unpauses the video.

It’s a little awkward watching this right next to Taehyung. While they’ve traded porn with each other before, they’ve never sat down and watched it together. Every time Jungkook looks at the video, his erection threatens to rear back up, so he keeps looking at Taehyung instead. But Taehyung keeps looking up from the video and catching Jungkook staring at him and that is weird too.

They get to past the part where Taehyung walked in and interrupted and Jungkook can’t help himself, he needs to hear what happened next. He taps Taehyung on the shoulder.

“Can I listen too?” he asks, then looks down, cheeks flushing. “I, um, didn’t see this part.”

“Oh shit, yeah.” Taehyung nods. He cracks the door and sticks his head out into the hallway, scanning back and forth before closing the door again. “No one’s around, just unplug them.”

Jungkook turns down the volume before slipping out the headphone jack and letting her moans fill the editing lab.

“That’s right.” Yoongi coos in the video. “What a good girl. Such a slut for her whole crew.”

Jungkook’s erection comes surging right back, pushing against the confines of his pants. Jungkook chances a glance at Taehyung to see him adjusting himself in his pants. Jungkook panics and looks away.

Fuck. Is Taehyung aroused? The last thing he needs is more of his colleagues masturbating. Jungkook watches him through the corner of his eye, but Taehyung keeps his hands out of his pants.

A soft whine pulls Jungkook’s focus back to the video. She pumping her fingers in and out at a faster pace now. The slick sounds of her wet cunt fill the editing lab. Yoongi continues his torment. “You want to be fucked by everyone like the filthy girl you are.”

Jungkook’s dick is aching, pressing desperately against his underwear. He needs to touch himself, but he can’t do that with Taehyung standing right there. He chances another glance at Taehyung, who appears immersed in the video.

“You’re so wet.” Yoongi is right. She’s soaking. Jungkook could just slide right in. Ever so slowly, Jungkook presses his wrist along the length of his erection, adding just a bit more pressure, gliding his arm downward across the bulge in his pants. It feels so good to have just a bit more pressure. He glances back at Taehyung one last time, but Taehyung is not paying attention to him, only the video.

“Look at the way you drip. So turned on by the thought of your crew members using you like their own little fucktoy.”

Jungkook’s mouth falls open in shock. How can Yoongi say those things? And yet, she seems to be getting more and more turned on by it, moaning and speeding up her fingers. She does want to be fucked her whole crew. The whole crew including Jungkook. He rolls his hips, driving his hard cock up against his wrist again. He watches Taehyung out of the corner of his eye, but Taehyung doesn’t react. Maybe Taehyung can’t see him.

“You going to come for me?” Yoongi asks. Jungkook is so close. He rubs his arm up and down the length of his cock, just a little bit faster. He’s been on edge so long, almost anything would set him off at this point.

“Think about how badly you want to suck Jimin’s cock while I fuck you,” Yoongi commands. Jungkook can picture it. Her mouth wrapped around Jimin’s cock as Jungkook takes her from behind, the way she would gag on the cock with every thrust of his hips.

“Come for me.” She’s coming. Her hands shake as she gasps. Her empty cunt clenches over and over as she cries out in ecstasy.

And then Jungkook is coming too. He bites his lip to keep himself silent, yanking his arm away from himself as he fills his underwear. He sticks his hand into his pocket, pulling the fabric away from himself to avoid any incriminating wet spots. He glances at Taehyung through the corner of his eye, but Taehyung hasn’t moved.

The video ends and silence descends on the editing lab. Wet cum soaks into Jungkook’s underwear, making him feel sticky and gross.

Taehyung exhales slowly. “Well, damn.”

Jungkook flinches. Did Taehyung see him?

“That was so sexy,” Taehyung says. Jungkook can’t look at him. “But it doesn’t really explain who she’s having sex with.”

“Maybe both of them?” Jungkook’s voice sounds more breathless than he would like.

“Maybe…” Taehyung nods, staring off into space.

“Do you think?” Jungkook starts, but then pauses. It’s a dumb question.

“Think what?” Taehyung finally looks down at Jungkook, raising his eyebrows.

“Do you think she really wants to have sex with everyone?”

Taehyung smiles. “I’m pretty sure she wants you, if that’s what you want to know.”

“Really?” A flutter of excitement rushes through him.

Taehyung chuckles. “Yeah.”

“Why?” Jungkook rubs behind his ear.

“Because you’re you.”

Jungkook’s face heats up and he looks away from Taehyung. “No, but what has she said about me?”

“Well, she offered to cut your hair.” Taehyung says. “She’s never done that for anyone else.”

“That’s just cause I’m an idiot.” Jungkook mumbles, fidgeting with his hair.

“Well, there’s only one way to know for sure.” Taehyung smirks. “You’ll have to seduce her.”

“What? No way.” Jungkook shakes his head. “She’ll just start talking about fungus or something.”

Taehyung laughs. “I like when she talks about fungus.”

“Yeah…” She was adorable when she got really excited about science, even if most of it was beyond Jungkook’s understanding. He scratches his head. He really did like a lot of things about her. She was kind and smart and helped him with things. And now she was also incredibly sexy.

“So,” Taehyung says, squatting down next to Jungkook. “Here’s what you do.”

------

And that’s the bonus chapter! More main chapters and more bonus chapters are in progress. Hope you enjoyed it!

[rachelillustrates]

An Exploration of Kiliel

OKAY, fandom thoughts on my art blog because of Story Study.

My Wife and I finally watched The Hobbit movies, so I’ve finally gotten to Kiliel (..... ❤ ) and I have some headcanons/thoughts about Tauriel’s introduction to the story, the flow of their romance, and what’s important.

(So this will be part meta, part headcanon as I sort that out.)

What’s striking me right away - other than the fact that I came into these movies ALREADY shipping them and am damn pleased about it, thanks Tumblr - is that we are given.... well, bupkis on Tauriel’s motivations and backstory. And the person I’m watching these movies with, who I love very much, was quick to point out that her introduction and immediate positioning as a Romantic Female Lead could read very shallow to the casual viewer.

(Which I am not, thank the Gods.)

So, what of Tauriel’s backstory and deeper life goals? Digging into the fandom, I found notes that her parents were killed by Orcs when she was young, and that Legolas took her under his wing afterward (making him her mentor, and thus making the idea of their romance even less attractive to me, since that means he would hold even MORE sway and authority over her and there would be very little equality for her there. Also, Gimli).

But that’s it. And we’re not given that in the main plot of the movie at all.

What we are given is the information that she’s conscious of the dangers to the outside world, and wants to protect her people by stopping those dangers at the source, despite contrary orders from her King.

So what I think the movie intended, with that scene where she talks to the Elvenking about her concerns and how she immediately chooses to go after the Dwarves later - motivated primarily by the thought of saving Kili - is that Tauriel has a deeper drive to help save the whole world from the threats she sees to it. Because of what happened to her parents, because she knows the spiders are coming from outside their borders, etc. The featurette “Tauriel: Daughter of the Forest” says of her “She has a great curiosity of other races, of the world outside - she literally hasn’t been anywhere...” (mentioned in part 2, part 1 is here). So, to me, her motivations for leaving Mirkwood include that - as well as saving this Dwarf she feels an inexplicably deep bond with already.

On that note, I wish they had gone a bit deeper into her and Kili's immediate connection than what we were shown. I do appreciate how she insisted on fending for herself, in their Battle Couple introduction, and how Kili immediately accepted her for who she is - the trousers joke was, admittedly, a little uncomfortable for me due to personal reasons, but I think it could be read as him meeting her aggression in battle with aggressive flirting, and in that light, her positive response to it (in what she said to Legolas, and in returning to check on him of her own volition) makes a lot more sense to me. And while I really enjoyed and understood the Feast of Starlight scene, those less romance-genre minded than myself may not have understood that as deep "enough” (for more of the intentions of the plot in that scene and the take the actors had on it, click here. Includes a hysterical Leoglas moment at the end!). 

Rewatching it, I do see and recognize how deep their connection is and how meaningful what they choose to share of themselves is - especially with the idea of Kili honoring and respecting (nay, being attracted to) her ferocity, and the fact that most of her kin probably don't automatically respect her for such things. The sexism among the Elves is not as bad as it is with humans, but it is still there. Who knows how much Tauriel has had to fight for her place as the Captain of the Guard, being a woman. And again, it probably wasn’t as bad for her as it was for, say, Eowyn - but no matter how much space there is for women to step up and be active agents of the story in the mythology of the world, Tolkien didn’t choose to make women part of the action, actively, most of the time. So the world still reads as a mostly Men-at-War, Women-at-Home place. And that has to have had an impact on Tauriel’s life. And in addition to how charming Kili is, just as himself, the fact that he sees that part of her, respects her and admires her FOR it, must hold a lot of weight.

Another part of what I've seen, in re-immersing myself in the fandom now, has been this idea that both Kili's culture and Tauriel's culture have an idea of soulmates, the One person who, when you meet them, shakes you to your core, and you are never the same again. I really think that's what the writing was going for (see Evangeline Lily’s comments in part 2 of “Tauriel: Daughter of the Forest,” particularly), but it wasn't given the space and depth that it needed to be apparent on surface level of casual viewing. 

So, from my fangirling perspective, I imagine that they both felt that right away, but were so surprised by it - because of the unexpectedness of their circumstances, and the animosity between their peoples- that they didn't know how to handle it, and fell into awkward humor, and slightly clumsy attempts to get to know each other as they tried to sort it out.

I imagine that Tauriel's outright denial of any connection to Legolas, and immediate acceptance of his father's racism toward her in that context, was also swayed by her newfound feelings. They (Tauriel and Kili) probably did talk more, as well, about their families and their deepest dreams after the Feast of Starlight scene cut off. We just aren’t given that information.

(Anyone else for a romantic adventure Kiliel-centric mini series?)

Then of course, we are given the healing scene. What I got from this, beyond their romance, was that Tauriel always looks to be helpful. When she takes the athelas from Bofur, she looks like she’s had a revelation. She realizes she can help, she can heal Kili, and that gives her an outlet of action for all the confusing feelings she’s having. She goes right into business mode about that - and Kili, all pained and fevered, barely realizes it’s her. But when he does, he looks at her in wonder (with a fever-dream angelic view of the magic around her, even! Sidenote - I LOVE how messy her hair was. Both beauty and realistic adventure life). And she looks back at him with such serious kindness, telling him to trust her, without words. Of course, he does....only to then believe that she wasn’t there at all, and spill his heart out to this apparition of the person he already knows he loves.

And in that, he is so sure that she’s beyond his reach, even though he knows he loves her already. Even though as he talks about how she’s on another level of existence than his, his action is still to reach for her hand, still reaching for her, despite the words he’s saying. He still wants to believe it is possible - that they are possible - even as he’s trying to accept that they can never be.

Which, of course, leads into the beach scene. After the whirlwind of surviving Smaug’s attack, too (extra shoutout to the writing there, regarding Tauriel and Bard’s children - she’s aware enough to realize that Bard’s son is the only one of the three of them that might have had any sliver of training for situations like this, because human misogyny, so she uses that to protect all of them - “Your sisters will die if we stay here,” etc. - but as soon as he runs off to help his father, she still makes the girls her priority, as well as the Dwarves. Headcanoning that if Kili had survived, and they married and moved into Erebor, she would have damn well taught those girls how to fight).

Anyway, back to the beach. I think my favorite part of that moment, other than the Heart Wrenching Perfection of what Kili says to her (and how it’s acted!), is that he has realized that she wasn’t a fever dream after all - that he did, in fact, say all those potentially embarrassing romantic feely-feels things right to her actual face - and instead of being embarrassed, he just GOES for it. He is that sure. Sure enough, that even when she can’t let herself reciprocate his feelings (even though she clearly does - and she doesn't say no, btw, she is interrupted by Legolas' arrival and thusly the reminder of her duty and her 'place') he then gives her the token from his mother, to let her know she’ll always be in his heart, no matter what she decides. And he almost doesn't, he almost leaves, but turns back in the last moment, in that desperate, loving attempt to try again. No matter how impossible it seems.

MY freaking heart.

Also, when Tauriel then learns of her banishment, she looks shaken at first - but quickly, almost relieved. See here, at about 39 seconds in. She has clearly been fighting against her own heart each moment since Kili came into her life - even though, as I mentioned before, he provides a grand excuse for her to go help other people beyond Mirkwood’s borders. And now, released from the obligations she has to her people, to her King, who doesn’t fully respect her anyway, she is free to do what she could not just moments ago. She is free to choose her own path - to follow her heart, and her ambitions to help the world.

Of course, she follows Legolas first - the path of least resistance being to follow her mentor and Prince. And I get from that that she’s shut herself off from her own emotions for so long - likely due to her parent’s death, early in her life - that she really doesn’t know what to do with herself, in that freedom, and in love. So, following her nearest authority figure, giving herself a moment to breathe and decide later, seems natural.

But, luckily, that path leads right back Erebor.

And unluckily, right into the tragic ending.

But first, she confronts the Elvenking (who has banished her, and therefore freed her, though that was not his intention) about his refusal to stay and help. His concern for his own people, again, will lead to them not being there to save the lives of others suffering in the world around them. And she’s not having that - in general, even if a large part of it is her love for Kili. The script focuses only on that love - with Thranduil refusing to accept that she really loves Kili, comparing what he imagines she feels to what he felt for his late wife, it seems - but there is so much in her whole narrative that has already pointed to her desire to help the whole world, even before she lets herself start feeling for Kili. And this moment plays right into that deeper motivation.

Of course, her story being a romance, finding and protecting Kili is her first priority. And sadly, that goes, as we know, badly.

It bothers me a LOT that she “had” to be damseled in the Big Fight. BUT. We at least get the strength of their connection before she gets trampled by Bolg (and the surety of her voice when she calls for him, and the focus that hearing her, and his calling back out to her, gives him - yes. It’s subtle, but its very strong and very there). And at least they get to see each other one last time - Kili knows, no matter what happens, she chose to come after him after all.

And all the emotion, in her watching him die, and him realizing what they’ve lost even though she did choose him.....ugh. My heart, again. They are both just so clearly broken - Tauriel so confused, not able to accept that its come to this, after she chose to find him, after everything. Kili so brokenhearted that after all his hoping - after she chose him back - they still can’t be together (not to mention the fact that he’s just lost his brother, too, the only other person we see him love as intensely as her). And then, in the last moments of (this part of) the fight, when Kili is gone and Tauriel is alone again, her pain is so great, her anger so clear, her love so deep, she is willing to use her own momentum and throw herself off the tower’s edge with Bolg, just to try and make for damn sure that he pays for what he’s done.

(I will forever maintain that the fact that that didn’t kill him - that SHE didn’t get to kill him - is a travesty. Especially with his murder of Kili, but also for the gross tongue thing. Very uncomfortable with what that implied.)

I’m gonna skip over the intervention of Legolas to save her life, cause that’s not important here, suffice to say that once again I am Pissed as Hell that they felt the need to damsel her so much. Sigh. I must assume, from a writing standpoint, that they chose to nerf her in this battle because she’s never been involved in war like this - fights to protect Mirkwood, yes, but not War Battle. HOWEVER, there are ways for them to have written through that and not made her look so weak. Especially considering that she is a seasoned warrior - AND had fought Orcs before, as we saw in “The Desolation of Smaug” - and between her and Kili, who one of Thorin’s strongest warriors, they should have at least been able to do better together. Crudmuffins! That, of course, would have messed with the outcome of the source material, but who of us would really be complaining? Hmm? (Sorry Tolkien.)

Their canon story ends, of course, with Tauriel having to come to terms with her feelings and Kili’s death all at once. As as much as I spent most of the movies harshing on Thranduil (except to honor how fabulous he is, stylistically and attitude-wise, and make as many Party Elk jokes as I could), i am glad they brought him back for this scene - not only that he gave Legolas a direction away from mooning over Tauriel, but that he got to help Tauriel accept what had happened (in his own blunt way). The way he watches her here, and looks at her, I feel like he’s really seeing her and accepting her as a person and not below him for the first time. I’m also headcanoning, since we know that Tauriel was orphaned and bonded with Legolas soon after (as her mentor - and honestly, I read their relationship as more of a broship/sibling situation), I feel like she was taken under the wing of his household - not because he approved, but because it was the Right Thing and probably looked good to his people, even if he couldn’t fully accept her due to her heritage. I also feel like the fact that she asks him to take the love away from her, since it hurts so much, also points to a more parental role than he would admit. If your heart was broken, who else would you ask to take those feelings from you - at that first heartbreak - than a parent?

But of course, he can’t - all he can do is finally admit, despite his earlier insistence otherwise, that her love for Kili IS real (I feel like he might have gone through something absolutely similar with his wife’s passing - finding her falling in battle, mourning over her body). And that smashes any hope she had that she could keep denying how she feels - it passes over her face, visibly and physically, that shock that he’s admitting it, then frustrated realization that if it’s real, she can’t deny her feelings anymore and can’t close her heart to it, and then just pure pain again as she realizes what she had and the full measure of what she’s lost.

And then she kisses him, as if she’s sealing that love and acceptance - the only time, super duper heart-stabbingly tragically, that she’ll ever get to you know, according to this version of the story.

I can only hope that afterward, Tauriel chose to honor herself and Kili’s memory by continuing to help the world at large, in her exile. And that she surprise and “oh shit”-ness of Thranduil’s expression upon realizing that an Elf could truly love a Dwarf means that he will be kinder to Legolas when he brings Gimli home.

Now, as far as the runestone goes, I initially wanted to believe that Tauriel would take it back after she gave it back to Kili in death, maybe to return it to his mother on a well-intentioned trip to meet her, to give them both closure. However, upon learning about what’s specifically written ON the stone, I have a different thought - Middle Earth News points out here that the runes on it translate to “Return to me.” Obviously, at its creation and initial giving, that was about Kili’s mother bidding her reckless son to come home safe. But when Kili gave the stone to Tauriel on the beach, he made it theirs as well. He bid Tauriel to return to him by giving it to her. And so now, in returning it to him upon his death, Tauriel bids Kili in turn to return to her, death be damned.

So while at first glance, that returning of the runestone may look like Tauriel denying her feelings again, its really a further, even more solid gesture of that acceptance. And honestly, to me, an expression of hope.

And I feel like hope is what really strikes me, about this ship. They have SO much potential, not only in how little we’ve been given of them in canon, but the potential they see in each other in those brief moments where they obviously imagine what their lives could be like, if they could be. One of my favorite shows says, early in its story, “Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a powerful thing.” And that is exactly what I see in them, and why they strike me as so wonderful. They are hope, and the belief in love despite all odds against them, despite all the darkness around them.

And no matter how shakily that might appear to be set up, that is gorgeous, at its heart and root.

And if you got this far in all my scattered ramblings, thank you!

(The art above is my own, btw. For more of my own star-crossed inter-fantasy-racial height-difference queer fae, click here 💕 )

~~~

Patreon ~ Etsy ~ Ko-fi

[marshmallowprotection]

Damn, sorry to send yet another ask; also, thank you for your response to my last one. Writing out my feelings as well as reading your response did help me calm down ^^

But there's... there's another thing, and I hope you don't mind this topic, it's kinda heavy. If it's too much, you can go ahead and ignore this.

Erm... self harm warning? Ha...

That was the thing. Is the thing. That I started doing due to that friendship. I think it was curiosity more than anything.

...I don't have depression. Anxiety, yes, and sometimes I get frustrated at myself/my disorder, but not depression. I'm not suicidal either. Sometimes I hurt myself when I'm stressed or anxious, sometimes I do it just because... I need to. I need to and I like it and no one tells me why it's wrong. Why is it wrong?? I honestly don't understand. I'm careful; scratching and biting doesnt cause anything severe... and I'm careful otherwise. I'm not hurting anyone else. I'm not depressed. I'm not suicidal. I just like it and it- it... I'm such a freak, ugh, but I can't help the fact that I like it.

I don't do it all the time, it's kind of an off-and-on thing. Just whenever I have the urge.

And my mom... maybe at some point I might've considered telling her, but now I know that I never will. She's made some comments recently about cutters that... they aren't rude or anything, they just show that she'll never understand me. And I don't want to risk emotionally hurting her because she won't understand.

...why is it wrong? No one can answer me. All that comes out of it is relief, even if it isn't exactly the best means. So what's wrong with it?

I've told a number of my friends, actually, and I can tell they don't know what to do. I have one friend who occasionally asks me how I'm doing in regards to that, but I can tell they just... are lost. Don't want to deal with it because they don't know what to do.

I don't want to be stopped. But... maybe if someone could understand me for once and tell me why it's wrong, maybe that person would be able to convince me...

The only thing that stops me before I do it (besides lacking energy/a true desire to do it)... Ugh, this is going to sound so pathetic. Relying on someone who doesn't even exist. But it's Saeyoung... sometimes just imagining his face gives me pause; I hesitate.

But he's not real. Even if he was, who's to say he'd be able to give me an answer?

Maybe I'll never find anyone who can convince me. That's... that's fine. I don't want to be stopped. I only know destructive means of releasing anger, and tearing paper doesn't work that well. Biting my hand, however, brings immediate calm.

I did it right in front of my mom out of habit during an argument which was stressing me out. Immediate relief. She didn't even realize what I was doing.

[417]

TW: Self-Harm, Cutting, Depression, Anxiety 

Self-Harm is a dangerous thing to pick up. It doesn’t just mean cutting. It means that you could deny yourself things or bite yourself or crawl at your skin. It’s not something to feel ashamed of or feel guilty about because feelings are very hard to deal with in a healthy way when you don’t have a safe space or people that you can reach out to that can show you better ways to cope with your pain and depression. So, I hope that you know that you’re not a bad person and that it will get better in your life. 

This is something that is going to take some time to work on. You’re not hurting anyone but yourself, dear. Nobody deserves to suffer or feel horrible. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting and that nobody has been able to gently guide you and show you that life can be worth living when you know where to start to help yourself feel better again. One doesn’t have to have depression per se to have struggles with self-harm, either. 

I’m sorry that you don’t feel safe enough to open up to your family about this, or your friends. Self-harm is addictive, and it’s very hard to stop once you’ve had the time to start it. It’s harmful to you. Do you deserve to be hurt? No. You don’t. Nobody does. You’re looking for something to help you feel something other than numbness, and yes, pain is a feeling that one can have but it’s not the feeling that you need. 

I don’t want to scold you or shame you, so I hope that my tone is coming across gently because I do worry about you! I worry about anyone that is struggling with so much pain in their heart on their own. I know how hard that is. The answer that you’re looking for is for someone to tell you that you matter, that your life matters, that your existence matters. It does. I promise you that it does mean something to many people. 

You can’t wait for someone to tell you that all the time, but I understand that people want to hear it from the ones that they love the most. There’s no right thing to tell you other than that I hope that you know that you can find better ways to cope with your pain. It’s harmful because it isn’t helping you sort out your feelings. It’s just hurting you in more ways than you’re able to see. 

If you would like to know better ways to cope with self-harm, I can direct you to some better coping mechanisms and references that you can check out. I’ve had many people tell me that biting into lemons or drinking something really tart can jolt you out of feeling numb. That’s one of the major things with self-harm, trying to feel something that isn’t numbness. My fiance stands by submerging your face in ice water for a few seconds to deal with his urges. He’s a few years into his recovery, so I trust him with that theory. 

There are other ways to be mindful and help yourself. I promise. If you want to talk more, I’m always here and I’m always willing to listen to whatever you have to say. If you just need a void to scream into, just let it out. Your mother may not understand, but if you’re old enough, you can speak to your doctor about getting someone to talk to about this. I think 16 is the minimum age or that in many of the states. 

Now, for the other half of what you said. Don’t feel ashamed for coping with a character. In many cases, that’s the only outlet that many young people have to hold onto you. The only reason that I, for example, was able to deal with what happened to me throughout my childhood and recently, my adulthood, was the fact that I could clutch onto a character to feel better. I still do it. I close my eyes and imagine that comfort character reassuring me. It’s not silly, it’s not wrong, and if it helps you, don’t let anyone make you feel bad. 

I’m so very self-insert and OC positive because I know how important it is for people to cope with their pains and woes. Sometimes, you just want to flirt with a cute character, or you want to be cherished, and you find that in a character. I think that’s sweet. Our brains don’t go “fictional” or “real”, if you love something or someone, that love is tried, true, and real. You love him. That’s real, and he would want you to be happy and taken care of. 

That’s real. Saeyoung wants you to be happy and wants you to be able to live your life. He’s always willing to listen if you need to write to him. I do that at times, just writing out how I feel and how I know Saeran would talk to me back about it. They empathize and understand your pain. They would want you to feel okay but they would never shame you for hurting. Nobody should. I hope that you can feel better in the future and that you always remember that things will be okay. 

Fight for yourself and for your happiness, easier said than done, but I believe in you! I actually wrote a writing trade for someone who has similar struggles if you would like to read that with Saeyoung.

[joecial-distancing]

2019 in review in review:

A few years ago I started tracking yearly goals, books read, movies watched etc in a year, along with overview blurbs, in private posts. End of 2019/beginning of 2020 I was really frazzled/burned out about a lot of stuff and just never finished up making the thing. 8 months later, got the urge to read back what I’d got done, then figured I’d maybe go ahead and see about finishing. 

Media tracking below the break. thoughts/blurbs written in 2020 italicized, 2019 not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_____________________________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Didn’t do so hot on explicit personal goals, but had a lot of stuff go ok around them this year.

School’s been fine/better than fine.

Job’s probably the biggest failing. Still with same job, haven’t made the firm moves to jump off, dragging my feet too much on exploring stuff w/ Columbia/NASA GISS.

Did not get better with covid, lol

Dating life still non-existent, but I’ve registered on apps, gotten more comfortable with selfies, improved general social life dramatically, been flirted with, updated my wardrobe, and generally started to get comfortable accepting that I’m a hot person.

Somehow got extremely better during covid.

Books

Grant (finished)

We stan a taurus legend

Guy was good at exactly one job, and was fortunate enough to have been in the right place/right time to get to do it.

Mort (discworld)

Definitely best discworld I’ve gotten to so far.

Don Quixote p. II

Really entertaining in a way that part 1 wasn’t; I was shocked how much the meta element landed for me.

Consider the Lobster (DFW collection)

had zero context on who DFW is/was when I read, and still don’t exactly tbh. Wanted to wait for a pause in The Discourse before diving into more of him, but dunno if I’m ever going to get that.

Crime and Punishment (revisited)

Weirdly didn’t get much more out of this than I did the first time I’d read it

Better Than Sex (HST Gonzo papers)

Xerox/widespread fax accessibility opening citizen access to mass media in a manner really reminiscent of what social media would go on to do at a much larger scale. Has a much more deliberate narrative arc than the other gonzo papers collections, also has that excellent HST richard nixon eulogy

The Brothers Karamazov

SPQR

Slouching Towards Bethlehem (Didion collection)

Pet Sematary

Not my favorite King, but not bad

Sourcery (discworld)

still funny/charming, but Mort really made clear/reminded me how much the hapless sadsack Rincewind mold of protagonist wears on me after a while.

The Devil's Teeth

My Year of Rest and Relaxation

Liked it a lot more once I realized it was doing a Fear and Loathing thing.

Homage to Catalonia

This should be the Orwell that gets taught in schools. Make it a followup to All Quiet on the Western Front or something, jeez.

Lyndon Johnson I

Having now finished all of them, this one’s probably the least-interesting but sets up a bunch of important context that the others still then feel the need to retread.

The Razor's Edge

Recommended to me as a “white guy discovers eastern mysticism” book, but also is more interesting in its treatment of that than I’d expected (helps it was written in the 40s). 

Cat's Cradle

There’s a part in this where Vonnegut’s making fun of people who try to bond with strangers over being Hoosiers, and my dumbass immediate thought was “ooh, Vonnegut’s a hoosier? Me too!”

Lyndon Johnson II

Robert Caro felt compelled to apologize for spending so much words lionizing Coke Stevens, segregationist opponent to Johnson’s senate run. His goal was pretty clearly to show lbj’s lack of campaign charisma by contrast, definitely definitely overcommitted in his own narrativising.

Libra

I want to go back to this after reading some more De Lillo.

Gravity's Rainbow

This book absolutely kicked my ass

Overstuffed and referential in a specific way that really keeps me hooked in instead of put off. When I learn about some piece of cultural context that I retroactively recognize as being referenced in this, I want to go back and reread the entire thing.

From Caligari to Hitler

Kind of fails both as film criticism and cultural analysis, but absolutely made me want to run for the hills when considering current relationship between mainstream movies and demands of pop culture.

I took a class on Weimar cinema in undergrad that I now realize was probably biting pretty heavily from this and never once referenced it.

Movies

Venom

Movie itself is not as fun as the Tom Hardy hype coverage. PG13 was the absolute worst space to aim for, PG- or R- versions of this could have been a blast.

Harryhauser Argonauts

Was tripping when I put this on, and it was all kinds of fun.

2001: a Space Oddyssey

First time seeing this, all-time classic for a reason!

A Good American (the NSA doc)

Dr. Strangelove

Mel Brooks History of the World p. I

Not my favorite Brooks, best joke was at the beginning.

In Bruges

Had been a while since I saw a proper dark comedy.

Spiderverse

Fukkin awesome!

Visually great, and extremely better than usual superhero stuff for being aimed at PG instead of PG-13.

You Only Live Twice

Highlander (Revisited)

I watched The Old Guard on netflix recently and it mostly just made me wish I was watching Highlander instead, because at least Highlander knows exactly how goofy it is

Moonraker

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Much like The Shining, I though this would have been 100% spoiled for me by cultural osmosis, but turns out it wasn’t, and even the scenes I had seen *totally landed* in-context still.

Kung Fu Hustle

Ichi the Killer

Really gross, really fun

Matrix Reloaded (watched thru highway scene) (Revisited)

The highway scene was not nearly as cool as I remembered it being.

John Wick 3*

Probably dumbest plot of all of them, best choreography. I like how every single fight had its own distinct flavor. “Knife museum fight” “horse fight” “halle berry dogs fight” 

Akira

A classic

Pet Sematary * (ugh, bad)

Why can’t john lithgow be in good movies anymore

The Revenant

MCU Spiderman

Fuck this was awful.

MCU Spiderman 2*

Really weird, complete Rorschach Test of a movie: it’d be totally valid to read into this that global warming is Fake News, for instance.

Lmao this was completely awful

Rites

Dredd (non-stallone)

oh hey Lena Headey’s in this

For All Mankind!

Watched in honor of moon landing anniversary

Lion King *

Watched it way too stoned, was like dark side of the moon + wizard of oz except instead it’s a lion king script reading + nature footage edited for lip syncing.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood *

Many scenes of very long setups for really stupid shaggy dog jokes, which sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t. I do kinda want to rewatch now knowing more about manson, which I knew pretty much nothing about beforehand

Blowout

A good john lithgow movie

also I think I like travolta in things.

Lord of War

A Good cage movie

I like when Eamon Walker shows up in stuff.

Taxi Driver

A classic

Snowpiercer

Watched in a bar with only one speaker working, which is the correct way to watch. Weirder and funnier than I thought it was going to be, which still doesn’t make it good, but,

dbz big green dub

Exorcist III

Brad Dourif just tearing it apart

Deep Red (argento)

Suspiria (1977)

Watched the remake in 2020, which was ok, but nothing tops the Goblin score.

Elf Bowling

Thanks, Gnome

Parasite *

Interesting to me that this one seems poised to hang around people’s good esteem for a while

TV

FMA: B

Rick & Morty

Saw some episodes, generally pretty funny, some misanthropy that’s probably appealing to a certain type of teen al a something like House, but ultimately I don’t totally Get the intensity of discourse about it.

Leterkenny

Mob Psycho 100

One Punch Man

Deadwood

Watchmen

Only watched like half of it. Was playing around with a lot of hefty imagery/thematics, but didn’t really seem ready to rise above playing (tho also I feel like it’s weird on some level to *expect* them to rise above that in the first place)

Music

New Avantasia

HEALTH/ show

lol remember concerts

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard/ show

Just learned about King Gizz in 2019 and got completely obsessed with them. I don’t tend to expand my music selection very readily, and a lot of what I currently *do* know is old/inactive stuff, so it was/is incredibly exciting to have an active group with good momentum just immediately win me over like that.

Mistimed the edibles and ended up with a really good finale and a really long subway ride home.

New Yeasayer

Sad they split up

Steve Wilson Tull remixes

Aqualung’s a good album and the sound mixing’s kinda bad, so I liked this project.

Stonefield

Opened for Gizzard. Really good as studying music

Video Games

Civ VI: Gathering Storm

Hades

Turns out Supergiant’s design proclivities all work *extremely well* on a roguelike

Baba is You

Untitled Goose Game

Cute, if maybe a bit overhyped

finally fucking finished Pillars of Eternity

Had fun with it, but too long, and really dour for how long it is.

Pillars II

Kinda drifted off it eventually, but I do genuinely like that the flavor of the fantasy is colonial era rather than medieval.

There’s a Balancing Bastard Factions element where it’s like the writers are just being smartasses after a while. Having to go extremely out of their way to make siding with colonizers seem like a competitive option.

Pokemon shield

Cuphead

pisses me off, which was a nice outlet when I was stranded by flight cancellations during thanksgiving

Celeste

Also very difficult, but really easy to stay patient with, which is nice.

Disco Elysium

None of the discourse made me want to play this, but people talking about the mechanical stuff it did got me extremely interested. Mostly Delivered IMO.

Breath of the Wild

You can approach the nodes of the main quest in the order you choose, and the second one I chose made ninjas start fucking spawning everywhere when I’m just trying to explore, and there’s no way to make it stop. May go back to it one day.

Podcasts

Relentless Picnic Patreon feed

The treats really helped me start distinguishing individual personalities, compared to the regular eps.

Picnic Discord!

<3

FatT Counterweight

Fun, but also I think Mechs are not my shit.

FatT Spring in Hieron/ end of that particular world

8 months since I’ve last tuned into FatT. ah well.

Law School

He’s in everythiiiing!

You Must Remember This: Manson family

*There’s* the context

Misc.

Kindle train guy

Times Square sleeping guy + kids taking selfies w/ him

toddler singing along after Psycho killer (a, ya, ya ya, ya)

drunk and dragged to a drag show

Central park football family

Soft Steel Drum Subway Busker

Weird old lady going to grand central for oysters

2018 in review (cards):

MySelf (CC)

Self: Tower

Blocked: 10 Cups

Ethereal/subconscious: 8 Swords

Material: 3 Swords

Past: Justice

Future: Page Wands

Attitude: Sun

External: King Swords

Hopes/Fears: 5 Coins

Trajectory: High Priestess

Also Self:

Hierophant

7 Cups

7 Coins

Blind Spot:

(self & others): 5 cups    ||    (others not self): High Priestess

(self not others): Moon   ||    (nobody): 3 Cups