#now we need to bully him into a sex scene or five

[mwagneto]

oh my fucking shit I just saw someone commenting that they hated the kiss bc it was "neil giving in to the fans" and how the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale was perfect in S1. Im perplexed. Im. what.?? are this people real?? I feel like im going INSANE

HELPPPP no yeah that's an extremely common homophobic take, the whole idea is that they should just be friends or ambiguous at most coz making them gay men ruins it😭 absolutely fascinating to see christian conservatives and tumblr tenderqueers having the same take

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Criminal Justice (2007)- Episodes 1-5. Watching Con O'Neill's old stuff cause it's fun. Day #? RALPH STONE!

Warnings: Murder. Blood. Drug Use. Needle Use/Injection is shown on the scene. Drunk driving. Accused/discussed sexual assault. Abusive parents, grief, and general bullshit in the justice system.

Should you watch this if you haven't: YES! Five episodes, each being an hour, but if you don't have any issues with the warning, it should be a fun time. I was on the edge of my seat for most of this show and Con is a very important character! He is on screen more than most of his other tv parts and is having a great time. It's a story about one defendant and the shit that goes down as he's tried for the crime.

Special thanks to:

@dianetastesmetal who I chatted with around midway through about the show! (For me it was ~2 in the morning, so it was a whole lot of fun!)

The Usual Suspects! I would love to hear your thoughts about this show down alone! I want to thank all of you for following me and giving me love. Y'all are enabling my current fixation, and I thank you all! If you haven't seen it, just ignore me <3

@sphealybojeely @thedowneyheart @kimpreg @gydima @ivegotnonameidea @treesofgreen @tummy-stab-wounds @mossiestpiglet @sidewalk-scrawls @crybabyclover @

Criminal Justice- EP 1 (Guest starring my brother)

Why does that kid look like Benedict Cumberbatch?

He just needs a haircut. That hair looks awful.

This takes place in 2008 right? 

Why didn't the dad knock?

He's going to go have sex, huh, he's not going to his friend's house. 

Is he going to abuse his position here? Pretend he's a cab driver?

I feel like cab drivers are trained to drop a rando with no destination to a hospital or a police station. 

Also, a situation that's only playful because it's a young woman. If this were a homeless person? This shit isn't flying. 

DON'T SHARE YOUR FUCKING DRINKS WITH A STRANGER??!?!?!

I got to inform my brother that in England they call soft-served ice cream 'whippies' after the popular brand 'Mr. Whippy', to which he just said 'it's a clown land'

DRUGS! Here we go!

This is suspicious as fuck. Don't take her booze! She's a chick you just met! 

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING

NOOOO! NO. NO. NO. KNIFE GAME IS TAPPING, NOT FUCKING STABBING! WTF! 

Society would be a lot further on if we just stopped caring about peer pressure.

WHAT? HE STABBED HER!?!?!?!?!? WHY ARE THEY FUCKING? 

We have seen so much of this man's ass, why? 

We are 12 minutes in?

Oh. She's dead. She's so dead. 

OH SHIT. Yep thats a stabbing

Brother guesses it was the parent, I say ex lover.

God, he's just bad at this

BRO WENT BACK AND NOW HAS A WITNESS?????

This is an actual ACE ATTORNEY CASE WTF

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. HE THEN CRASHES THE CAR? ACE ATTORNEY LEVELS OF DUMB!

Bro, is this your first break in?

Ohhh he's fucked. 

Ohhhhh, this is the cops best day of his life

Oh, good luck defense attorney Con. You better get Phoenix Wright levels of bullshit. 

Oh my god, don't fucking fight the cops. 

Bro, take a nap. It's been a long night. 

OH MY GOD IT'S HIM. 

Hello Con! Lovely to see you. Love the rat man fit. I know it's on purpose, but damn. He looks wet.

This is where my brother bullies the shit out of Con. 

OH I LOVE HIM-He's actually giving good legal advice! The cops are going to do whatever they can to get a false conviction.

'No comment man'- Hard nose solicitor I FUCKING LOVE IT

RALPH STONE! TROLLIN'. I love it. GOD I LOVE IT.

It's so much easier to be quiet when you're nervous. 

Lessons to be learned from this tv show: Don't random desperate women, don't fall to peer pressure, don't say shit to the police. 

They wouldn't have left her body there. They would have taken photos then taken the body out of the house asap. It's weird they've waited so long to investigate. 

Solicitation of evidence. It's illegal to receive testimony from a private source without giving the evidence to opposing council. 

Nice that she packed him a sandwich. 

Why is the shitty cops boss so much taller? That's funny. 

Whelp. RIP Ralph, you did all you could. Having the guy almost assault a police officer isn't fun.

OHHHHH!!!!!! RALPH I LOVE IT- GOOD GOD IS HE FUN

Oh this whole detective thing feels illegal. Without his attorney to represent him.

Yeah. Sure. Don't get buddy-buddy with the guy who wants to put you away for years.  

IS THIS DETECTIVE A VILLAIN? Oh, he likes you? FUN.

They're in a public spot, there is no expectation for privacy and this can be recorded, HAHAHAHAHHAHA. GOOD, HE DIDN'T SAY SHIT. 

It's 2007, a bit of weird transphobia was to expected. 

UHHHHH….. I SWEAR TO GOD. DON'T SWAP ATTORNIES!

CLASSIST BRITISH PEOPLE AHHHHH-

OH I'D BE PISSED!!!!!! RALPH IS SO GOOD!!!!!

Oh good, Ralph corrected himself about his client's name and pronouns, nice. 

Ralph at the end of ep 1-'I looked into his eyes, and we vibed. He can't be innocent'

AWWW RALPH STILL WANTS TO HELP HIM EVEN AFTER HE GOT SCREWED OVER BY HIS POSH LAWYERS! God, I love him. 

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

EPISODE 2: This is where my brother dipped out, but I summarized as much as I could for him. 

I'm going to be honest I skipped through this ep a ton. I generally got the gyst. I'm here for my guy, you know. 

I watched a bit, but this just establishes our protagonist's life in jail. 

I skipped Ralph's scene/ the trial. Seriously the preview in ep 1 gives you the gist. Read a summary. Etc. His roomie is great.  

AHHH RALPHS SMILE. "I don't care what you'd do as a lawyer, just as a human being" AHHH. 

GOD HIS CELLMATE IS SO GOOD.

HAHHHAHHAHAHAHHAH! WTF?!?!?!??! Oh, poor ralph. You guy just blowing up in court.

At this point, if I was Ralph Stone, I wouldn't really believe him, but that's what that whole grin was for. He just knew our guy was innocent!

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

Episode 3

Oh good. Protag was able to deep throat the drugs. 

Ralph! AHHH!! God, he has great outfits in this show. 

WHY DOES RALPH HAVE A FOOT THING? I noticed it earlier, but why are we drawing attention to it. 

Oh good, Ralph doesn't want to senselessly tarnish a dead girl's name. Nice. 

THAT FACE! Uh, the reluctant face! Chewing on the lip! 

Ralph! AHHH!! God, he has great outfits in this show. 

WHY DOES RALPH HAVE A FOOT THING? I noticed it earlier, but why are we drawing attention to it. 

Oh good, Ralph doesn't want to senselessly tarnish a dead girl's name. Nice. 

THAT FACE! Uh, the reluctant face! Chewing on the lip! Love it.

Ohhh, god. Ralph's a good actor. That's cute. 

OHH THE DETECTIVE ALSO BEING THERE! SHIT. RALPH RUN!

GOD HIM BEING VAGUE AS SHIT TO A WITNESS! I love it. 

'With alpha brain?' What the fuck?

AHHH! I LOVE RALPH. 

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA. I got to see his chest :)

Oh, Ralph doesn't like this at all. But shit. Not much he can do. 

Oh no. It's really not ethical. And this yonger lady is going to mess it up. 

AHAHHAHAAAHAHAAA. THE WIGS! 

Is this inadvertently informing the audience of how fucked the courts can be. Which is both good and bad. People deserve to know exactly what our lawyers know.   

RALPH BEING THE FUCKING SAD DOG MIDDLEMAN THAT NEEDS TO RUN BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM IS SO FUNNY. 

Ralph with glasses gives me life. 

OH SHIT THE FRIEND SHOWED UP?

Okay, this is fun. But maybe let's not make jokes in a murder trial?

I love the one juror struggling to stay awake. Showing that even with all these verbal chess, they still need to convince the jury. 

Hey, babe. If you really fucking hate prison, maybe don't give a shit about how your mom reacts here!

Good on Ralph. Trying to speak up for her. 

(Seeing Ralphs…ex? For the first time) Oh I love them. WHAT ARE THEY ON?

OH SHE MOVED ON, GOD HIS ACTING. A SECOND TO SEE THAT FULL FUCKING FACE JOURNEY! 

Oh good. We can really hate the cops now. I mean, I already did. BUT. 

OHHH DO THEY HAVE FOOTAGE. 

OH, HE COMPLIMENTS RALPH WHEN IT LOOKS GOOD IN FRONT OF THE JURY. 

God I hate her(lead defense lady), but this scene is fun. 

RALPH IS HAVING SUCH A GOOD TIME. He's watching the divorced parents fight and he loves it. He should be allowed to smile.

Ha, she's sowing seeds of guilt but that's really not how the law works. 

Ralph-'I told you not to talk two episodes ago, and you do it fucking now?!?!??!?!'

Is Ralph being kinda shitty? Yes. Is there any other option right now? Nope. 

Them showing how mentally I'll people in prison are severely punished without being able to seek help is cool. 

Back to court- OHHHH! SHIT. Yeah, digging at how the medical examiner is only going on prosecution for the state is suspicious as fuck. 

FUCK. ASSHOLE DON'T SAY SHIT! DONT CONTRADICT THE DEFENSE!!!!!

SHIT

Ralph, mentally deciding if now is a good place to just call it a day when his client is just begging to go to jail.

OH ANOTHER FUCKING CON CHARACTER WHO FELL IN LOVE THE WRONG WAY!!?!?!?!??!?!!? Well, that fills out my bingo card. This makes maybe 20 characters. I swear to god, if he ends up sad and alone I will make a Con O'Neill drinking game. 

"Are you calling me a hypocrite?" *Slight head tilt* -ME rolling on the floor laughing

Good on Ralph for staying with him though. 

AWWW. Ralph's an asshole but this is one of the few cases that's gotten to him! I love it. :)

Aww, they are sweet as a couple, but he needs to reorient himself. Find his own center and work on not 'always looking for doubt' before moving on. 

OH GOD! Don't fucking smile Con. It's mean. To me. Personally. 

AHHH! HIS TICKS WHEN HE'S LYING! Okay, that's funny as shit. I love him.

It's good that the main defense younger lady and the defendant trust each other. AND CON'S GRIN!

Say what you will, this man loves his job

OH SO YOU'LL LET THE SENIOR DEFENSE CHAT AND BE EXTRA BUT NOT THE JUNIOR! RUDE!

OHHHH SHIT THEY GAVE HIM BACK (the inhaler) EVIDENCE

AHHHHHHH!H!H!H!H!HH!H!HH HE TOOK EVIDENCE BITCH! It proves that he stayed in her bed

RALPH SMILING AHHHH!H!H!H!H!H!HH!

Oh they're getting him addicted to drugs to keep him loyal. Whelp. That's going to ruin him.

EPISODE 4:

Why is Ralph going into his clients home? 

Ralph(I'm paraphrasing)- Look, I'm a hard ass. I'm a dick who usually has guilty clients and does what he can to abuse loopholes and police mistakes to get them free. If I have a gut feeling, that really fucking matters. So I'm going to do what I can. 

Yeah, the neighbor did it

OHHHH! SHE PULLED RANK ON RALPH AHAHAHAHAHHAHA

Stone is pissed, and doesn't want to freak out in court. OR HE'S GOING TO EXAMINE A WITNESS?

What act is he playing here? I love it. He's being a clever cheeky bastard. Knowing how people want to treat court like they're the important heros that can save the day! AHAHHAH! I love it. 

"Are you the kind of person-"- SHUT THE FUCK UP-He's just trying to establish his character before crushing it.

OHHH THEY ARE ABUSING THE SHIT OUT OF HIS COYNESS AND NERVOUSNESS WHEN TALKING ABOUT SEX. 

AND HE'S HIDING EVIDENCE

Ralph, I love you. Babe. This is the kind of trust in the justice system I need. 

Another court scene goes by without note. But Ralph shows up? Oh boy, I'm typing. 

OOOOHHHH RALPH GETS TO BE A DETECTIVE!

SCENE SKIP

WHY ARE THE CLIENT AND YONGER LADY DEFENSE ATTORNEY SMOOCHIN? EXCUSE ME? ISN'T THAT AGE GAP WEIRD??!?!?!??!?

Oh good. Ralph. 

OH MY GOD HIM FUCKING SITTING ON THE TABLE? Me Moment. Queer? Coded. I'm assigning it to him. I'm giving him an honorary badge even though this is probably one of his straightest roles. 

Ralph- "I like getting my clients off." YEAH so does she! *Ba Dumb Tisk*. See, Ralph is smart. Get entangled with others in the arm of the law, not your fucking client. 

Scene passes without note. But a few prison scenes go by. 

GLASSES!!!!!! Look at them! THE EXAMINER GENUINELY HELPED. I'd also be smiling at him like that. 

Aww, Ralph's trying to ask without asking to hang out with a friend. 

Skipped a bit. Back in court. 

AWW Ralph and the yonger female defense attorney leaning together to chat. 

BRO HE IS SO WHIPPED FOR THE EXAMINER! I LOVE THIS!!!!!

THAT FUCKING SMILE. GOOD FOR HIM! GOOD FOR HELLEN! I love that they're immediately like, yeah, this might be a conflict of witness BUT. She still has a point.

I WOULD BE SWAYED BY HIS CHARM! I HAVE BEEN SWAYED BY HIS CHARM.

DAMN. Good on the friend/witness. 

Oh wow, the cellmate is just as shitty and corrupt as everyone else? I'm shocked. 

I love Ralph trying his best here. 

"You're 46 years old, what do you know about justice?" :0. WOW.

OH SHIT THIS MIGHT FUCK THIS ALL UP. CALLING IN THE DAD IF HE HAS AN ALIBI

OHHHH FUCK. RALPH IS A SECOND FROM STEPPING IN. 

OHHHH FUCK. GOOD ON HER. CALL THE DAD OUT FOR BEING ABUSIVE. 

FUCK if they pull her in the case is fucked. 

YEP RALPH SEES IT! SHIT!!!!!! 

EP 5: 

JURY CONSIDERING VERDICT! 

HI RALPH! LOVE YOU BABE!

Hour and a half deliberation is good! 

Yeah, I should have seen that coming. 

WHELP. SHIT. 

He's going to kill himself within a year. Calling it now. 

That moment when you work the same job as our prisoner protagonist 😐. Hey, don't dis a dishwashing job, protag. It's nice and easy.

HI CON! 

"'Self-deprecating jokes get you out of hard questions'- avoids the question by shoving toast in his mouth"-me. God, I was messaging @dianetastesmetal during this bit. Who pointed out how loving these characters is a form of self-love, and I will partially embrace it. Maybe I just want to see a man with a nice chest and a nice smile huh! ;)

Oh good, the protagonist is doing more drugs. Love that

GLASSES! I AM BACK ON MY WHORE SHIT. 

The hugging of the book! THE GRINNING! AHH!

This is why Ralph is emotionally distant, 'cause he's lost good cases before. HAHAHAHHA HE CAN'T LET IT GO. 

AHHHHH!H!H!H!HH!!H  THE TUFTED-UP HAIR ENTERING THE PRISON!

OH SHIT! RALPH INVESTIGATING THEIR RELATIONSHIP! He's asking the protagonist to sell out his legal advisor! 

No, RALPH IS SO RIGHT! She abused her station and got too close. 

Oh good. Another arm of the law is weird around police reports and evidence. Great.  

AHHH! Her sewing that little tidbit in the cop's head! She's onto him! 

Yeah, good on our protag to stand up for himself. 

Cellmate is going to get killed cause he knew too much, huh. 

Hey, good on the cop for looking into it a bit more. Still a jackass. But you know. 

Skipped a few scenes without note.

OHHH SHIT HE FILED THE SUIT!!!!!!! GOOD ON RALPH! We love a man who cares about giving justice to his client. 

'Frances- out for blood after Ralph is about to ruin her career'

 'Ralph-Half passed out on a couch with a rag over his eyes, already done with this conversation. Ready to throw every insult she directed to him back into his face.'

Ralph knew to get romantically entangled with a medical examiner and not a fucking witness.

GET IT RALPH! God, good for him. SHE ABUSED HER POSITION! She took everything they worked for and threw it all away. She didn't let their client find justice. 

Yeah, cellmate's about to die, huh. 

OHHHH SHIT! GET IT!!!!!! Good on him! Yeah, he's going to get murdered, but good on him. MURDER THAT BASTARD! 

OHHH SHIT. THE ASSHOLE COP HELPED THE MOB! 

GOOD ON THE CHIEF FOR CALLING HIM OUT! DAMN! 

Oh, wow. Ben's life is ruined. He's hooked on drugs, and he thinks he has no prospects in life. 

Now he can't fall asleep without listening to the radio.

Hi Ralph. Why are we talking about your feet? 

Frances is fucked essentially. 

Yeah, going in for a mistrial was the right option. 

Yeah, no. Nothing would have changed if Ben told Ralph the truth the moment they met. Good on Ralph! Giving our protag a bit of closure on this whole thing. Telling that none of this was really his fault.  

Yep. He had his last few free years of youth ripped from him. 

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

Final thoughts:

I think the fact that this was a mob member being the real murder and that it was covered up was the real thing here. The entire point and moral the audience was meant to learn. It didn't matter if Ben had the best case, the entire Crown was against him. Ralph and his team could have been the best defense lawyers in the world and it still would have gotten buried. I'm happy the final evidence came out, obviously, but Ben was fucked over in so many ways. Now what life does he have? He lost his friends, his trust in his family, and is now destined to fall back into the system he knows. It's a shame. 

Con: 11+/10. Long hair AND glasses AND he's Exhausted! Perfect role. I want him. I want to be him. He's divorced, and sad, and I love it.

Ralph saved this series for me personally. He was so much fun. I will be updating the Con list here soon to include bit TV roles. Ralph is going to be high on my ranking. We are given a Con character who has REAL impact on the story, introduces the audience to the rules of this world, AND GETS A HAPPY ENDING! It's brilliant. Obviously, there are moral issues to him being such a good defense attorney to allow criminals to get away, but this whole story was about giving Ralph a different perspective. He's a slime-ball but he's not totally against change. Willing to look at other perspectives. He started to genuinely care about his client, and didn't treat it as some weird game of chess. Him genuinely helping the younger defense attorney was nice, especially because he rarely blew up at her for her choices. He did his best to help where he could and didn't take things personally when shit blew up. 

Con's acting here is so fun and fluid! I hate being a person that ties OFMD into everything, but this is kind of what I want Izzy to become. Con's allowed to be fun! He's allowed to be mad, suspicious, have doubt etc. There are a few scenes that got me chuckling just by his face! He feels really confident and comfortable in this role. He talks with his hands! He's a dick, a total slime-ball, but he really cares about getting things done right! I love it. 

Everyone else: 8/10. Nothing really stood out besides our protagonist, and after a quick google, he won an award for this role. Which is deserved. He does great. I liked the characters the show wanted me to like, and vice versa. 

Story 7/10: Intriguing. I had fun, but this show sits more in the turn off your brain and gets swept along by the bullshit, vs trying to solve it yourself. 

Overall. 9/10: I highly recommend it if the tags don't worry you. Con is in this enough to justify a Con watch. I have a thing for Professor esk Con. I will not be ashamed about that. His whole speech about how he was perceived was nice. Now, this is about five hours of commitment, but If you need something longer I'd recommend it.

[peppertaemint]

Hi, Peppertaemint! I was wondering if you wanted to talk more in depth about OnlyOneOf's Begin and Be Free music videos. It would be interesting to read your perspective on how both music videos follow a storyline, the stylistic means through which they portray the beginning of a potential relationship, but most importantly, the impact they must have on current K-Pop and its audience.

Hi Anon. Sorry it's taken me so long to answer this one. I wanted to wait until I could do it justice.

OnlyOneOf has released five music videos in the "be" series: YooJung's Begin, KB's Be Free, JunJi's Be Mine, Rie's Because, and Mill's Beat. Nine, the sixth member of OOO, has dropped the teaser for the final video in the "be" series, Bey0nd.

These videos tell stories of LGBT+ romance. The first two, Begin and Be Free, follow a couple's hookup and more than allude to the physical side of that, while Be Mine and Because take things further with a couple's ups and downs, including attraction and desire. Beat focuses on school bullying, with a student crushing on a young man who then battles the bullies with him. The teaser for Bey0nd carries on from the last, showing the new couple playing music and celebrating together.

These works are undoubtedly LGBT+, not only in the narrative portrayal but in the messages posted with the videos themselves. Begin states this clearly with the beautiful passage posted under the MV on YouTube:

Among the countless lovers in the world, there are also lovers that couldn’t be blessed. For whatever reasons. Religious reasons, things like parents’ disapproval. I dedicate this song to all those lovers that couldn’t be blessed.

Each set of MVs focuses on a couple (the members "chop and change" to create different couples) and a stage in their relationship. Flirting, getting acquainted, intimacy, conflict, reunion, etc. Begin and Be Free focus on desire and a sense of the erotic in romance. I particularly like the fish tank scene that is reminiscent of the intoxicating party scene in Baz Lurhmann's Romeo+Juliet. Be Mine and Because are bolder, if less stylistically interesting, as they depict kisses and other physical encounters between their couple, including an underwater kiss. If we compare these to Holland's MVs, which were marked as "adult only" because of same-sex romantic content, OOO's videos are less raw and gritty and much more wholesome, constituting a kind of K-drama-esque homo-romance.

If I squint, I'm reminded of Jungkook and Jimin in the Dynamite Holiday Remix video, acting as the "Christmas couple" away from the other members. But there's one glaring difference here—homo-romance is not subtext for OnlyOneOf. It's the whole of the text and the message of the work.

When OOO released homoerotic/romantic work previously, many cried "queerbaiting" despite many of us pointing out how these videos weren't queerbaiting—they were LGBT+ stories being told with elements of eroticism and romance. What I notice now is how much warmer the response is. I think this has something to do with the theme being consistent so people understand it's not a stunt for views, but I also think it's because the erotic elements are lessened. Sadly, people still have strong, negative reactions to eroticism, especially if it's LGBT+. The history of fan service is partly a reason for this, though I still think fan service needs to be revisited and recontextualized (that's an opinion for a different day).

Nonetheless, I think these videos show how the young SK generation's attitude toward LGBT+ contrasts with older generations' attitudes. Polls show there is quite a difference in support for LGBT+ rights between generations, and I think the fact we're seeing more openly positive LGBT+ content coming out in SK is a product of this.

It will be interesting to watch their trajectory over the coming years. K-pop is less popular in SK right now than it used to be, judging by comments from the general public, and the music industry in general is seeing the "silo-ing" of artists, meaning it's much harder for artists to become known and followed by many because styles and genres have become niche by default. Audiences have almost infinite choices in terms of who they follow and listen to, so much like we see on social media, fandoms are becoming their own complete subcultures where values and ideas are reinforced instead of challenged. And I mention this to say that although I'm sure OOO are having a positive impact on LGBT+ youth and artists in SK, the East, and beyond, I'm not sure just how wide the impact is given that we can now easily ignore what is outside of our sphere, culturally speaking.

Countering this, I'm reminded how important music shows like Inkigayo and Mnet are because they put this content in the living rooms of a diverse set of people. And that is one way older generations can be reached.

[smolgirlowo]

semi-live blogging riverdale with my friends [S7xE2]

so happy the brought back hot dog, ben button, ethal and pilot dilton but uh... where the fuck is reggie? give me reggie back!

'kevin and the crooners' the fifities makes me want to die

premier jughead behaviour: 'you stole my story!' 'there are no original stories kid' 'alright, I'll work for you'

i love fangs and toni, more greaser content plz

'you haven't even pinned me yet' the fifties make me want to die, also stop trying to fuck a gay man betty

premier judhead behaviour pt2: 'thank you for the job sir, my friend will work for pennies please hire her' 'alright' 'thank you sir'

OH FUCK A BOY. KEVIN WITH A BOY. CLAY WALKER!!!

imagine moving to a new town and hitting on the first guy you see (you are a gay black man in 1955)

'i want to discuss politics, art, current events' i don't think archie knows what those words mean ronnie

imagine moving to a new town and telling the first girl you see she's extremely fuckable (you are a straight woman in 1955 currently dating 4 guys)

oh my god archie in his little suit, i wish i had a picture. he's adorable

i really like the transition from archie and his dad both writing music in high school for girls, to writing poems. it's so cute

not reading archie's poetry out loud, yeah fair writers

love that the greaser gang hangs out in an underground coffee house, adorable

comic accurate purple bow dress, fuck i am going to need photos from this episode

betty talking to her mom about wanting to have sex, betty's mom getting ready to murder her. 1955 cam

god jughead doesn't know what girls are, i love him. are we getting misogynist judhead, stupid jughead, or asexual jughead?

the only artist archie knows is norman rockwell, good for him. oh god he's threatened to murder someone (valid)

mary andrews is the first person to ever tell veronica that she's a bad person and I love that for both of them

genuinely love alice encouraging her daughter's boyfriend to not fuck her. LET. BETTY. FUCK. i mean, not with kevin, but in general

'i'll take one [ticket]' 'glares in murderous bisexual greaser' 'uh, fiVe?' iconic dilton doily bullying hours

good scene. :3

deeply confused by their 1955 gym clothes

oh to be a girl approaching the hottest guy in school to ask for his dick, and then get torn away by your gay male boyfriend who sucks

good scene again.

kevin canonically scared by boobs

SMITHERS

etheal roasting her parents for sucking. good for her, good for her.

i now know what a sock hop is

kevin wants to fuck a boy, betty wants to fuck her boyfirends, cheryl and toni are about to have sex, midge is fainting on the dance floor from how horny she is. jughead just wants to eat cookies :3

oh they read archie's poem. it was okay...

aww. archie dancing with his mom instead of the evil girl. god dammit ronnie you're better than julian

alice is so happy her daughter's boyfiend is gay.

WAIT A MINUTE THAT"S WARDEN NORTON. WHY IS WARDEN NORTON THE PRINIPLE NOW

BLOOD B LOOD BLPOOD BLOOD LBOOD BLOOD BKLOOD MURDER MURDER MURDER

oh god I love ethal's actor.

[queen-ofsunflowers]

Five bucks says that junpei will mention the Kyoto incident while drunk one time. Wonder what the investigation team and Phantom thieves will react to that?

Actually, I think the closest that the Phantom Thieves come to learning about what happened in the hot springs in Kyoto was in the original draft for Strikers when I have Minato and Ryoji tagging along.

I'm not exactly sure how to put what happened, but I do have the scene saved still from when I wrote it down, that’s gonna be under the cut. All you need to know is that it leads to some Zenkichi bullying.

Anyway, I’m not sure at this point if the Phantom Thieves will learn about what nearly happened in Kyoto for S.E.E.S. But if the latter learns about what happened to the former, Minato’s going to fall out of his seat laughing about it.

(Note: this is shortly after the Sapporo Jail, as everyone’s driving to Kyoto so Zenkichi can meet with Akane.)

Minato: We and Kyoto have a... history. Let's leave it at that.

Ann: ...you guys are banned from entering Kyoto, are you?

Ryoji/Minato: No.

Ryoji: Just... memories, that's all. We went there for our class trip in high school.

Minato: Yeah. You wanna explain or should I?

Ryoji: It was a few weeks after Minato and I got together. All we wanted was to spend some time with each other because we were always around the others -- the people we live in the dorms with -- didn't exactly know yet. However, circumstances led us to sneaking around even more up until the point where we got caught in the hot springs--

Minato: They do NOT need to know that part!

Ryoji: It's important to the context of the story!

Goro: I'd rather not hear about your high school sex stories.

Minato: It is NOT like that! That's not what happened! We got caught--!

Zenkichi: ...Wait. Wait, wait. Wait! Arisato, Mochizuki, you two are--?! (A beat, some of the Thieves start chuckling.)

Minato: Yes, Inukichi. The gays do exist. Just like your so-called monsters and magic.

Ryoji: Ignore his sarcasm. But yes, we are dating. Have been for seven years now. Why? What did you think we were?

Zenkichi: Amamiya called you his COUSINS.

Ren: Biologically speaking, the only one I'm related to is Minato. He and Ryoji have been dating for so long, that my family has just sorta adopted him into ours. I've been calling him my cousin too since I think... sixth grade?

Ryoji: Just about.

Zenkichi: You introduced Arisato as your PARTNER.

Ryoji: Yes. That's usually what you would call your significant other. At least in our case.

Zenkichi: No, when you said he was your partner, I just-- ...*sigh* You know what? Nevermind, I'm just digging myself into a deeper hole!

Futaba: If it makes you feel any better, Zenkichi, no one here is straight so you missed the mark on all of that!

Zenkichi: It does not!

[syndxlla]

Part ten of the More To Love Series

Summary: The ball is tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing in the Mandalorian Palace. In desperate need of a break from all of the Masquerade planning, you get away from the palace for a few hours. This gives you a chance to reflect on your relationship with the Knight, learn more about his past, and grow closer with Koska.

Word Count: 10.9k, NO ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (handjob, grinding, this is like actually sort of gross if you over think it so just don’t over think it thanks <3), THIS IS EXPLICIT, 18+ CONTENT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Swearing. Mentions of: blood, scars, fighting, hand-to hand combat.

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: insight of recent events surrounding my tumblr, I have added an additional in-text warning for the smut scenes. This will continue for future chapters for those who do not wish to read the explicit scenes of More to Love.

Author’s Note: HEY, it’s been a little while, huh? Happy to be back. THANK YOU FOR 1k FOLLOWERS HOLY CRAP!! You all mean so much to me and the support of this fic is unlike anything I could have ever asked for! Also... the smut in this gets,, nasty. Like not that bad it isn’t super kinky or needs lots of warnings it’s just... like gross if you think too hard about that so do me a favor and don’t overthink it haha. OKAY LOVE YOU ENJOY

Part Nine

“No, If you keep that elbow down it will throw off your balance.”

“Okay, what if I hold it like this.”

“No it will get more tired faster.”

“Well how long do I have to keep it up like this?”

“Until the song ends!” You sigh, your fingers coming up to hold your eyebrow out of frustration. You and the Knight have been in the library for nearly an hour trying to learn how to waltz together and if you didn’t know any better, you’d guess he had two left feet. He was starting to get the hang of it, though. Slowly but surely and through a lot of trial and error but you don’t have very much room to talk because an hour before this one, he was just as frustrated with you because you couldn’t swing at him with nearly enough power needed to make some damage on anyone. This is how you’ve spent your last two evenings with the knight. The two of you sarcastically bullying one another in learning the opposite’s art. It was already Friday, the ball was tomorrow and you weren’t sure if he was going to be able to pull it together in time. The worst part is that you haven’t had anytime privately with him to do your... usual antics. There was always someone with you, usually Korkie or Koska, or the dance and fighting practice took up too much time to really have any fun.

The palace has been bustling the last two days. Every servant has had a task they were always doing, there was no down time for them which meant lots of downtime for the Royals. If there was no one to set up tea, then there would be no tea, simple as that.

Because of the high workload put on the staff of the palace, each royal has been subject to dinner in their own rooms alone this week, which was a dream come true for you. Dinner was your least favorite time of the day because of how painful it was to get through socially. And it also meant you got to spend more time with your own thoughts. You still aren’t sure what to do about the marriage, especially since you’ve admitted to yourself that you think you are falling for the beskar-clad knight who stands watch outside your door.

Even Soniee has been spending less time inside your quarters pampering you (you could really use a bubble bath). At all hours of the day, there was either a team of butlers carrying large bouquets of flowers down ornate hallways, a chef interrupting your dress fitting with Soniee and Koska to have you try another flower-flavored mousse, or an immediate meeting with the Queen to learn about some of your guests who will be at the masquerade and how to properly greet them. One time yesterday, you were asked to review the lanterns they picked out for the garden decorations. You were so indifferent to the ones they picked that the servants actually sent you back inside out of frustration. Along with the controlled chaos of preparations, the mask making has still left you feeling guilty. Just this morning you caught a glimpse of Koska’s shaky hands that had clearly been pricked by one too many needles while sewing jewels into the Queen’s mask. You must have apologized too much because she eventually got snarky and asked you to quit saying sorry about it. As much as you would like to dance with your knight with others looking on, you weren’t sure if it was worth all the pain and labor others were putting themselves through for it.

Party planning was exhausting, and on top of all of it, you needed to teach the most uncoordinated man in the kingdom how to waltz. It genuinely baffled you how he was able to be so methodical and perfect in hand-to hand combat and in bed but can barely hold his own in situations such as these. There was something charming about that flaw, however.

Now, the golden sunlight of the aging day was pouring into the towering windows of the Mandalorian library. It had made the room warm, and showed just how valuable the knight’s dark skin was as his bare hands soaked in the rays. You caught yourself staring at them a few too many times, which to your dismay, he caught you doing.

“You’re staring again.” He says while the two of you are practicing the basic 1, 2, 3 waltz step. Your eyes jump back to the emotionless visor of the beskar helmet which looked down at your face. You didn’t even realize you were looking at your hand holding out to the right, studying the way his knuckles looked and how clean his fingernails were.

“Sorry… It’s just that dancing is usually an emotional thing, you’re supposed to play off of eachother I suppose.” You shrug, stopping the dance. You realized you had been searching for something to play off of, anything, even if it’s just the calloused fingers of a hard worker.

You wouldn’t think the two of you would be so far behind and underprepared but for a majority of these rehearsals you’ve been the one leading as he figures it out. You know how bad it would look if you were the one leading tomorrow, and you’re starting to lose hope that you’re going to pull this off. You had wished you started teaching him earlier, but knew that he would have never agreed before now.

“Princess, you do realize that you’re probably still not going to see my face if we dance tomorrow.” He drops your hands. You sigh, you did know it, you just didn’t want to admit it.

“I know… when do you take it off?” You couldn’t remember if you had asked this already. Maybe you were out of line for asking, but a piece of you didn’t care, you deserved to know.

He was quiet, he always was when you asked him something personal. Maybe he was hoping you would get the idea by now…

“When I eat, when I sleep… sometimes around my son. Sometimes around other guards.” He said as he walked towards one of the library windows. You followed him, a few footsteps behind. He stopped at the glass, his reflection disturbing the pristine scene outside. You could see the beach from this window, not as well as in other parts of the castle, but the horizon of the Mandalorian sea was still in view. Your reflection came up behind his. You could see the exhale of his lungs from the shift in armor weight.

“I understand if you never want to show me.” You said. You didn’t really believe that, but you did respect him, and because of that you had to accept the reality that he may never show you. Maybe you were just trying to convince yourself that. You walk a little further to him and stand up on your tippy-toes so that you may rest your chin on his shoulder, looking out at the world below. It was so peaceful from up here. You’ve only left palace grounds once in the last two weeks and you desperately want to again. Being cooped up inside an oil painting was getting exhausting. “I want to go somewhere.” You mutter, your arms wrapping around his waist to hug him from behind: a pure and innocent act of affection.

“What?” His helmet turns to the side just a little bit so that you might hear him better. “Like… the Garden? The Parlor?”

“No!” You chuckle against his pauldron, “Outside, I want to get out of the palace again.”

“Did you forget what happened last time we went out?” He asks meditatively. “We can’t risk anything happening to you before tomorrow, The Queen would be furious, and even worse, Koska would be too.”

“Of course I didn’t forget! I’ll have the scar to always remind me” You giggle at his remark. “And besides, I-I want to go to the water.” You step out from behind him to look out at and gesture to the gentle waves against the golden beach. “I’ve been on a sandy beach before.” You clear your throat.

“We… might be able to arrange that. How about we go on Sunday? After the ball?” He attempts to negotiate.

“Or we could go now? There’s no formal dinner tonight.” You suggest.

“Your parents are coming in tonight, along with a number of other guests, not to mention Grand General Vizsla, all the Royal Guard is to be presented to him at nine.” He groans, but you were determined to convince him. You really needed a break from all of the planning, fittings and tastings.

“So? It’s barely five! We can just go for a little while!” You say as you look at the grandfather clock that sits nestled between two bookcases. You weren't feeling very optimistic, you doubted he would not budge, he’s always been so stubborn. “I can repay you…” You bite your lip. You were also incredibly horny and remember overhearing a maid back home talk about sex on the beach. It had always excited you.

He sighs again.

“Please? For me? I seriously deserve a break, so do you.” You reach out to stroke his hand. You knew that would probably work, it has before.

“Fine-“

“Really!?”

“Yes, but we have to tell Koska just so they don’t think we’re missing again.” He turns to walk out of the library. You silently congratulate yourself on getting the most unmovable and obedient man in the galaxy to go against his orders and do what you want. You happily skip behind him. “It takes a while to get all the way down to the beach so we should probably take a horse.” He says on the move. “Do you know how to ride?”

“I’m royalty, of course I do… do you?” You revising a teasing eyebrow.

He scoffs at your question, “There is much you do not know about me.”

“Well, you make it sort of hard for me to learn.” You roll your eyes playfully. He elbows you in the side, knocking you off your balance. You attempt to do the same to him, nudging him right back but not even getting the boy to budge and hurting your funny bone a little against the Beskar.

It takes you two a few minutes of complete silence and portrait-perfect stature to get all the way down the palace into the servants quarters. The only other time you had been in these narrow, stone hallways in the ground level of the Mandalorian Castle was earlier this week after Korkie begrudgingly led you back to your quarters in a wet peasant gown and a stinging bicep.

By the time the knight and yourself had made it down here, he was leading you through the maze of corridors, past helmetless knights who all nodded out of respect as they passed you, and into a wooden-arch. The room you had entered into must have been the servant’s common room, because it was about the size of the dining room. A candle-lit, wooden chandelier hung over four long tables, unlike the glass and oil-lamp chandeliers in the rest of the palace. A large fireplace burned on one wall, illuminating the room more and several small, gothic-arch windows towards the ceiling allowed warm light to pour into the cozy hall. Several handmaidens bejeweled masks at one table, twice as many sewed the bases of the coverings at another. One table showcased all of the finished designs, which depicted extravagant bird beaks, colorful fox and wolf snouts, towering cat and rabbit ears, ornate peacock tails, sharp antlers and horns on some and even incredible tusks on a few. They were all breathtaking, and while you felt guilty for making so many staff members work double-time, you appreciated their handy-work in making your dream come true.

The fourth and final table was mostly empty, a few elderly and child servants ate potato soup at it, and one maid cleaned her finger-nails at the opposite end. Everything was so simple and normal, it was such a display of controlled chaos that almost made you forget about the corruption in Mandalore… almost.

A sharp whistle rang through the room, and immediately, everyone dropped what they were doing, stood up swiftly from their seats on the long benches that paralleled each table, and turned to look at you before bowing deeply and diligently. They hadn’t even noticed you were there at first and interrupting their normalcy was not what you intended to do, but then you caught sight of who it was that sang the whistle. Koska Reeves was walking through the bowed, silent heads to you and the Knight. She looked exhausted, her hair was down and over her shoulders instead of pinned up in the intricate braids she usually wore them in when she was around royalty. The amount of fly-always was distracting but you couldn’t blame her, she would not disappoint the Queen with her work, even if that meant looking a little rough and disheveled.

“What’s the meaning of this? All royalty is supposed to be approved before coming in here.” She says to your knight chivalrously, then turns to you, “This is no sight for you, princess.” Something told you that she wasn’t only referring to the activities taking place in the common room. “I am sorry for our disorder.”

“No worries, Lady Reeves. There’s no need to apologize. I am most impressed by the work done on the masks for tomorrow.” You gesture to the table with the completed designs.

She sighs and smiles, “Thank you.” She nods before turning around, “Carry On!” She calls out to the room and everyone returns to normal as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you weren’t even there. There was something you liked about that, something that reminded you that even though you have a lucky bloodline, you’re human too, and not all that different from the workers in this very room. Their daily routine was fascinating to you. “What do you two want?” She hushes her voice and drops her “right-hand woman to the queen”, first lady-in-waiting and head of the Mandalorian royal staff persona. She’s now the same brash friend you two shared.

“We want to go out for a while, it’ll just be a few hours but we knew we needed to tell someone in case anyone notices that we’re missing.” The Knight nods, explaining the situation. She raises a questionable eyebrow.

“Absolutely not, we cannot risk anything happening to her before tomorrow night.” Your heart drops.

“That’s what I said, but she’s incredibly convincing.” He shrugs, tilting his head just enough to show the extra bit of emotion. Koska looks between the two of you, her hands perched firmly on her hips. You caught sight of her hands again, which were now bandaged tightly with the same white gauze that she wrapped your cut arm with earlier this week. You wondered if that was done to dress bleeding wounds, keep the shakiness from over-working and late nights in control, or a dreadful mix of both. A terrible feeling told you it was the third.

“Vizsla is going to be here.” She raises an eyebrow, her intimidating demeanor hasn’t gone away even after she’s become aware of your little secret (well, actually massive, life-altering, “how-the-hell-am-I-gonna-fix-this?” secret). “If you aren’t here, that could result in a court-martial from the Queen herself.”

“Sounds tempting.” He replies.

“You and I both know what’s going to happen to you and your little boy if you step out of line, even once, which is why I’m guarding your scandle so close to my heart.” Her voice get’s real quiet when she says that, and he shifts his weight. Your heart drops, what in the world could she mean by that? “You know what could happen to you if I accidentally slip something, that’s why I won’t cover for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You whisper. She glances at you and then right back to him.

“Wow, you really haven’t told her much, have you?” Koska’s arms move from her hips into a fold over her chest. He doesn’t respond.

“Told me much about what?” You ask, worried about whatever was going on that you didn’t know about. Every day you’re reminded about how much of a stranger he really is to you.

“All she knows is that I had an old job, that’s all she needs to know.” He bites back, his voice equally hushed.

“If you’re fucking her, she deserves to know a lot more, but that’s just my opinion.” Koska chuckles once and you blush red hot. “I mean, at least tell her your name.”

“Why is this happening here? Now?” He gestures to the very crowded room. “Look, we just want to go down to the beach for an hour at the most. We’ll be back long before Vizsla gets here. You won’t have to cover for us, I swear.” He tries changing the subject but your mind is racing with the possibilities and confusion of the conversation you were just welcomed into.

Koska looks between the two of you a few times again, carefully considering what’s on the table and the risk. “Fine, one horse. I mean it, only one because if two are gone, someone will notice and then I’m gonna have to do exactly what I told you I wouldn’t do and what you said I won't have to: cover for your ass. Get out of here.” She beckons her head to a door that leads outside as a smile spreads across your cheeks. “Djarin! Don’t be late!” She calls out as you begin walking. That’s the second time you have heard that word, both times uttered from Koska’s mouth. Something wanted you to believe that might be his name but you were far too scared to find out for your own. You would try to remember it this time.

The knight leads you out of the room, and you watch Koska over your shoulder as you follow, studying the way she stood still immediately after you walk away, taking a few deep, sharp breaths and then promptly returning to her work. You wondered if she was tired, remembering that not everyone who lives in the Mandalorian Palace has the same relaxing lifestyle that you have.

Despite the aging daylight, it was still deathly hot. The heat of summer bled onto your shoulders, which were still partially covered due to the scarring cut in your muscle. The clothing only added to the heat. The part of the Castle grounds you were were foreign to you. They weren’t the beautiful, lush and trimmed gardens or breezy courtyards you usually spend your afternoons in, no. It was dark, the tall height of the palace shading the courtyard where knights sparred and a pair of little servant girls chased one another. One wall that lined the courtyard was the horse stables, and another was a blacksmith. The golden light shone through the stables, and you were able to spot the four white horses that took you and Korkie to Keldabe earlier this week despite the beasts being backlit.

“You can ride, I’ll just walk.” He says as he guides you to a palomino, a tall horse with a Caramel body and pure white mane.

“Are you sure?” You ask, not wanting him to have to walk.

“Of course.” He says as he mindlessly bridles the horse, petting him on the nose a few times. “Do you prefer a saddle?” He asks. You nod, and he swings the seat over the back of the steed.

“Does this horse have a name?” You ask, reaching your hand out to pet his neck a few times. The horse nickers at your touch.

“He likes you.” The Knight chuckles. You smile at the statement, and continue to stroke the soft hair on the neck. “Clove.” He says, his voice velvet and full of caring. The knight knew this horse. They had a bond. “Here.” He holds his hand up for you to hoist yourself onto the saddle. You were in no way dressed for riding, and the saddle wasn’t even a side-riding seat, but you would make it work. You knew that on the palace grounds you would have to ride side-saddle, it’s customary, and how you learned. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t ride regularly. The horses back home in Corellia were massive beasts, animals suited for harsh winters and heavy amounts of snow, thick fur covers their ankles so that they can trudge through deep snow and pull sleighs. The Mandalorian horses were far more majestic, more like show horses than work horses. Clove was gentle, though, that was something that wasn’t common for the strong horses up north. He didn’t move a muscle or bat an eyelash as you heave yourself onto his back, adjusting yourself to sit properly, the knight’s hand holding yours tightly as you positioned yourself and then rearranging the heavy skirt of your dress to properly cover your legs. His plan grazes your shin as he does it, and your eyes immediately catch the visor of his beskar helmet. You liked to think he was looking at your eyes, too. The moment is so still, time freezing for half a second.

He starts to walk the horse out of the opposite side of the stable and into the field behind the palace. You could see the tree line of the garden from here. The bridle was tightly wrapped around his hand as he led the two of you out of the palace and into the hot, hot sun. This was the first time you’ve ridden a horse in a very long time, and you had almost forgotten how much you loved it. A cheesy smile was on your face, and your eyes cycled from the mane of the horse, the shoreline ahead, the back side of the ornate castle and the top of the helmet of the knight. The sun reflected off of the beskar, causing a bright illumination to shine on the bodice of your gown. He walked methodically and quietly, and you wanted to start a conversation with him but it didn’t feel right.

Comfortable silence is often overlooked, something taken for granted that is really only shared between two trusting people. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced a genuine comfortable silence with anyone before. Being a royal has a lot of “fine print”, one of which being that no one ever shut up. Korkie isn’t the only self-centered, talkative royal in this world. The thing that sets Korkie aside from the rest is the fact that you’ll have to deal with it intimately for the rest of your life.

There was something wildly attractive about the introvert by your side. Because he was few with words, it caused you to seek them out, and cherish what little you did get. He was warming up to you, opening up and every time you get a moment alone with him, he says a little more. Your conversations now are very different from that first night in the castle when he helped you untie your corset. All he said originally was “Goodnight, Princess”, and now he’s telling you about the stars and teaching you how to fight and defend yourself. The idea that it’s happened too fast has crossed your mind several times, but you considered that when you’re alone with someone almost all day, every day, you’re bound to get to know one another quicker than usual. However, you’ve also been afraid that you came off too harsh, maybe you jumped into it all too fast and overwhelmed him. What if he’s only complying to the relationship because he’s obligated to through his duty? You had to admit that there were a number of insecurities surrounding your friendship, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think that. Maybe you felt that way because you relied so heavily on him to get away from the other boy in your life who you can’t escape no matter how hard you try. Was it entirely possible that the knight feels about you the way you feel about Korkie? That very thought made you sick, your stomach twisting and preventing you from enjoying the beautiful landscape ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He noticed that you had tensed up. You silently curse yourself for not hiding it better.

“What?” Your look down at him, forcing a false smile. He was looking up at you now, his hand resting on your knee. Your eyes move from where he holds you and back up to the visor on his helmet. “Oh… nothing.” You hum.

“You are a fool if you think you can hide anything from me.” He tilts his head and your cheeks burn with blush. You sigh, knowing you should tell him. The chances are that expressing these concerns to him might give you a piece of mind… or they could do the exact opposite. You aren’t sure if you can take the emotional weight of resenting two men who you admire. You admire them for entirely different reasons, however. You admire Korkie for his dedication to his kingdom, and you admire that he’s genuinely trying his best. However, you admire the Knight for his kindness, his patience, his protection. You admire his velour voice, his plush lips, and the way he touches you. You admire that he’s a father, that he’s split his dedication between his duty to his kingdom and his duty to his son. You admire his deep chuckle, and the way he kisses you, the way you can see him laugh when you shoot him silly faces during dinner. You both admired and was frustrated by his obedience to his creed. He kept promises, no matter how life-altering they may be.

As you reflect on all the reasons he meant anything to you, you felt a sense of peace. It was better, the feeling in your stomach, that is. You decide it is right to tell him, you recall your governess explaining to you that all good relationships are built on enthusiastic communication, and you wanted your relationship with the Knight to be considered ‘good’. You sigh and then speak up, “I just…” You take a sharp, deep breath in the middle of your sentence before speaking up again, “just lots of insecurities, I suppose.” You shrug.

“Insecure- about what?” He asks.

“Everything, but especially us.” You didn’t really want to have this conversation, but you knew you had to.

“May I ask why?” His tone was sincere.

You aren’t sure how to reply at first. “Is it too fast? Am I too much?” You ask after careful consideration of what you were going to bring up first.

“What? No.” You think this was the first time he had ever replied immediately after you ask him something. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know-“

“Yes you do… tell me.” He reassures.

“Our personalities are different, you’re quiet and stoic…”

“Is that… bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Royals just aren’t that, and I worry if we’re compatible enough. And don’t mistake me, I admire that about you, but I fear I’m too much for you.” You sigh, shaking your head. Clove nickers again as if he’s listening in on your conversation and chiming in. He doesn’t respond right away which you’ve gotten used to, but if it was any other situation you wouldn’t be overthinking it. You can’t take the silence anymore and speak up, “And there’s the added factor that I’m totally cheating on Korkie with you-”

“-If I thought you were too much, do you think I would let you teach me how to dance?” He interrupts. The words halt in your mouth, and you look at him almost dumbfounded. “Or do you think I would be teaching you how to defend yourself? Fucking you on a royal sofa in an un-locked room? Risking my title to take you to the beach?” He almost sounded… angry? Had you offended him for thinking that? Your legs tensed up on the horse, and you regretted everything you had said. He did have a point, you hadn’t really thought of that.

“I… suppose you’re right.” You mutter.

“I don’t have to be doing any of this,” He grabs your hand, holding it in his and uses his other hand to halt the horse. The three of you pause in the field between the beach and the castle. There had been a downgrade so you were mostly hidden but you could still the upper-towers of the palace. He looks up and you, and you find yourself wishing you could see his eyes again. “But I do because I’m… fond of you.” It sounds like he’s having a hard time getting the words out, but that isn’t very uncommon for him. Your heart flares up, this was the first time he had ever admitted anything like that.

“W-what?” You ask, sounding like a fool.

“I know, it’s crazy. How could a halfwit like myself deserve a Princess like you?” He chuckles under his breath. “Maybe the elf laid a spell on me, I don’t know. But I do know that ever since I was given the duty of protecting you, my life has been different.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. ���I’ve… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I don’t know what it is but I-I-“ You smile fondly, and use his hand to hop off the horse. You bring your hands up to hold the back of his neck.

“It’s not a spell.” You whisper. “I feel it too.”

“Then it’s a spell on both of us.”

“Maybe.” You move your hands up to his helmet, desperately wanting to remove it, but you remember what you told yourself the other day. If he wishes to show you his face, it should be his choice, he deserves to be the one to take the beskar off. You would respect that. Instead, you just run your fingertips along the lip of the helmet, looking into the visor enchantingly. “Then it would be a wonderful spell.”

His hands find their way to your waist, hugging you to his chest. You rest or head on his shoulder and just close your eyes, feeling his chest plate move with each breath. It’s so still, the summer breeze softly runs through the tall grass. You can hear the waves gently hugging the beach, and the two of you just stand there like that. Completely alone, the only companionship being one another and a mindlessly-grazing horse. No one to interrupt. No doors to lock. No Princes to lie to. No thieves to fight. Just the two of you. If you could stay in that moment for the rest of your life, you would. In the earlier days of your relationship, you used to worry you wouldn’t like what his face looked like, worried that he might be unattractive to you. But every selfish desire you had about his physical appearance dissolved with the wind. No matter what he looked like, or what his past was, or what his name was, you didn’t care. You didn’t care because he cared for you, and you cared for him, too.

Before you can soak in the moment any longer, you’re swiftly grabbing his wrist, and tugging him towards the beach. The stillness of the moment is lost, but you’re quickly giggling as he’s chasing you down the small slope to the beach. You pull your skirt up as far as you can so you don’t trip on it, and find yourself being unable to slow down before the hill meets the shore. The soil slowly becomes more and more sandy, and your feet are bolting against uneven land towards teal, clear water. Before you can reach the ocean, however, strong hands are wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against the Knight’s chest. You can hear the low rumble of chuckling in his throat, and you have the biggest, dorkiest smile of all time on your face. He spins the two of you around a few times before setting you back down on the beach.

You’re out of breath from running, and your hair is already untidy from the unexpected change of direction. The wind blows it just softly, letting it pull away from your face and neck. He tucks one rogue strand behind your ear, and then cups your face. You hadn’t even realized he’s been gloveless this entire time. You close your eyes and rest your cheek into him. You turn your head ever-so-slightly to kiss his palm, laying a sweet and innocent peck to his calloused skin.

You wonder if he’s hot with all that armor on. If you were too warm with a dress, only he knows what it’s like to have to spend summers so formally.

He’s the one to pull away, walking towards the water. You follow him, and the two of you stand against the tide. You kick your shoes off and pull your dress up again. Stepping into the water. You giggle at the tickle of the sand and smile at the feeling of the warm water against your ankles. He watches you fondly with his arms crossed. The water in Corellia is never this warm, and you throw your head back in bliss, breathing in the salty air. This was the happiest you had ever been since you arrived in Mandalore. The break from all the rules and customs was very needed, and you soaked in the sound of the waves, a distant call of a gull, and the wind keeping your hair out of your face. The best part was the fact that you were experiencing it with the Knight. There is no other person you would rather spend this memory with. You bite your lip and close your eyes and you never want to leave, you want to stay here forever. You hear the sound of metal clinking behind you, and something heavy hitting the sand. You turn to look at the Knight, who had discarded most of his armor. His boots have been carefully set next to one another, and beside them were his pauldrons, wrist guards, thigh plates and breastplate. The chainmail was the next thing to be removed, leaving him in only the dark-brown underclothes. His trousers were heavy duty, covered in various pockets and made out of thick material, but his tunic was a thin material, still long sleeved, but flowy, allowing the fresh, summer breeze to run through the fabric. The two items of clothing were held together by a pair of black suspenders, and the entire ensemble made him oh so… human.

You had only seen him with all his armor on before, and witnessing his shell being removed was both humbling and inspiring. The armor added quite a bit of bulk to his stature, it rounded out his shoulders, boosted his posture, and broadened him out. That was the first thing you noticed about him on the first day you arrived, he was ample in size and it made you feel so primal and safe. Despite his smaller stature without the armor, he wasn’t one bit less attractive to you. He was still the same guy who you were slowly falling for and didn’t even know it. But as he cuffed up his trousers and rolled back his shoulders, you felt so comfortable in his presence. He wasn’t just a mass of armor and creeds and rules, no, he was just a man. He was a single father, a guy who doesn’t know the first thing about dancing, and a boy born across the world in the Nevarro frontier. He was just a man.

You couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest that came with this thought. Everything about him was far more simple than you initially thought.

He walked towards you, and you held out your hand for him to take. He laces his fingers with yours as he steps into the shallow water with you. Your dress drops, dipping into the water and getting wet but you can’t even be mad about it. Your smile is big as his hand tightly grasped yours, the two of you looking out at the horizon.

“When I was a boy-” he begins, his voice quiet, “I wanted to live on the sea. Join a ship crew and travel the waters. There was always something so adventurous about that thought.” He shares. You turn to look at him as he speaks, studying the contour of the helmet with your eyes.

“What stopped you?” You ask, not entirely sure if he would share, but this time he was the one to start the conversation, and you felt like he might this time.

He sighs, you see it, he turns to look at you, the two of you staring at one another as the temperature slowly dropped with the sun on the horizon. “I was orphaned when I was only five.” He shrugs, your heart breaks. “It was one of the Mandalorian wars that caused it.”

You can’t imagine what it’s like having to serve a kingdom so intimately when they were responsible for the death of your family. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know that you’re here for him. “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault, it was so long ago I don’t really remember it.” He looks down at the water.

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” You smile apologetically. You really did appreciate that he felt comfortable enough to share something so serious with you. While you were grateful that he had begun to open up to you, it still didn’t answer any of the questions about Mandalore’s past, and what Koska was referring to a few days ago. It didn’t tell you what his past job was and why he’s serving the royal family now. However, you supposed it didn’t really matter, not right now, not today.

After a little minute of listening to the waves, he reaches down into the water, picking up a flat, thin rock. He runs his pointer finger along the edge, outlining the shape before hatching it into the space between his index finger and thumb, reeling back, and flicking it out so it hopped over the water’s surface seven or eight times before falling in. You looked at him enchanted, like he had just expressed a magic trick to a bright-eyed child.

“How did you do that?” You ask in awe.

“You’ve never seen anyone skip a rock?” He asks. You slowly shake your head. You’ve been cooped up inside a wintry castle your entire life, of course you haven’t.

“Teach me.” You say a little too forcefully. He chuckles and looks down at the sand, looking for a pebble that might work. He bends down eventually, and picks out a similar looking rock to the original.

“So, you want a rock that’s thin and flat, like this one.” He shows you the sediment. You reach your hand out, taking it and outlining the edge of the stone with your finger similar to how he did. He walks behind you, sloshing in the water but eventually gaining position. He wraps his left arm around your waist, and cups your right hand which holds the rock in his. “Now, don’t throw it quite yet, okay?”

“Alright.”

“You’re gonna flick your wrist like this,” he motions both of your hands at the same time, pulling back and then shooting forward quickly. He does it two or three times before speaking up again. “You’ll use your pointer finger to pull back like the trigger on a crossbow, it will give the rock enough spin that it stays on top of the water.” He makes you do the motion along with him a few times again. “Your shoulders will draw back almost like you’re pulling back an arrow on a bow.” Again, he does the motion with you, your back flush to his chest. You admired that he was able to relate everything to weaponry. He definitely knew his way around combat, that was apparent to you. “Then, you add all three motions together, aim for the horizon, and-“ he pulls back with you and before you know it, the rock is spiraling out of your hand and onto the surface of the ocean. It doesn’t skip, though, and instead plops right into the water.

You frown and look back at him. “What did I do wrong?” You ask, you knew he would know what needed to change.

“You didn’t flick your finger enough. Try again.” He pulls another stone out with a grunt, and holds you against his body to pull back and send another rock out. This one skips once before plopping into the water again. You sigh out, frustrated. “Here, try without me.” He says after handing you a third flat stone. You carefully practice the motion once, desperately wanting to impress him. You then pull back and give it everything you got, only for the stone to plop in without skipping at all again.

“Ugh, lemme try again.” You say angrily. You can hear him laughing at you, but you ignore it, ready to try again and determined to get it right this time.

You must have thrown four more rocks after that with no results. Each time he tried giving you just a little more advice about different things, “Follow through” or “You had too much spin that time”. You were starting to get really frustrated, having never had to really work for anything in your life before, and you knew he was starting to have a hard time finding flat rocks. You would not give up on this.

“Maybe we can try again next time-“

“No.” You say forcefully, “We do not leave this beach until I skip a damn rock, so if you want to be back in time for your evaluation with Vizsla, I suggest you find me another rock.” You raise an eyebrow as you pull out your diplomatic royal voice. He holds his hands back in defense and then tosses you the stone he already had waiting for you. You sigh when you catch it, taking a deep breath and remembering all your training. Don’t spin too much, follow through, add all three motions together, have faith.

You pull back the stone, praying that it will all go according to plan because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take failure. You pick out your target with your eyes before adding together all the advice given to you and sending it. You can hardly believe your eyes when you see it skip at least five times over the water. You cheer out in accomplishment and look over at the Knight, smiling big and triumphant. He runs through the water to you, shouting with you.

“I knew you could do it!” He grabs your waist, congratulating you. You giggle out of achievement. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asks.

You roll your eyes and playfully punch his arm (which luckily this time was not covered by pain-inflicting chainmail). “A lot easier than having to dodge your hits.” You admit.

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s just a rock skip?” You wonder why he would be proud of you for that and ask yourself if you really are that pathetic.

“Yes but you put your mind to it and did it! I know some guys in the royal guard who would have given up on their third try, but you didn’t!”

“I was just trying to impress you.” You sheepishly chuckle.

“We’ll consider myself: Impressed.” He laughs and you blush.

“They don’t teach royals that.”

“Well of course not, I learned how to do that from the guy who took me in after my parents died. You picked it up much faster than I did.” He nods and you smile again.

The two of you catch your breath from the exuberant laughing, but you aren’t able to enjoy the still moment because all too quick it all comes crashing down quickly when he’s pushing you into the water. It isn’t very deep, but the unexpected soak makes you yelp out in surprise. Your initial reaction is to be frustrated, but you can hear him chuckling by your side and you can’t help but mischievously smiling in response. He’s standing, still dry with a hand over his stomach as he laughs at you. You roll your eyes before reaching up to pull him in with you, he yelps out stupefied as he’s splashing down into the tide next to you. You laugh out at him, sitting up in the water which is about waist deep. He wipes some water away from his visor and then splashes you, swatting a handful of the ocean at your face. Your laughing immediately halts from a mouthful of salt water. Your slight makeup washes off, and your hair is starting to get wet, too. You look over at him with a frown before copying his action and spraying him right back. He laughs at you, and you remember that you can’t win this. He has a helmet to keep his eyes clear from the water. You groan out of frustration, and wipe your eyes dry. He’s just looking at you, panting. His clothes were soaked now. You crawl to be closer to him in the water, which thank goodness it wasn’t too cold because you’d be rushing to get out, but the summer weather made it enjoyable to just sit there together.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

You’re next to him, running your fingers lightly up and down his right arm, looking at him fondly. He catches his breath, and brings his wet hand up to cup your face again. You close your eyes, hoping he takes the hint, which he does because a few seconds have your eyes are closed, his arm his pulling away from your touch against it and his lips are pressing into yours. You can tell he completely took the helmet off this time, which means he would take his time kissing you instead of a quick peck to shut you up.

The two of you sit in the water of the Mandalorian Ocean, both of his hands reaching up to hold you as he kisses each eyelid as if to say “keep ‘em closed”, before moving to your lips passionately. His left hand holding your cheek while his right hand finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you into him. You breathe deeply as he practically devours you, his lips moving hungrily. Your hands find their way to his thighs in the water, running your palms up and down the strong muscle, making sure to take notice of the healing wound on his upper-thigh. Your hands eventually find their way to the waistband of his pants, running your fingers under them to pull out the tuck of the tunic. Fingernails come out of the water and up soft abs that flinch at the stroke. It’s hard to work around the suspenders, but you’re able to still run your hands over his torso, getting to know his body for the first and hopefully not the last) time. He has a few scars, you can feel the fresh tissue under your fingers and wonder what caused them. He’s still kissing you, his left hand moves down to hold your jaw and you keep your eyes tightly shut out of fear of this ending too quickly. The kissing noises are obscene, wet and needy amongst the sound of the waves. The Knight licks into your mouth, his tongue hot and forceful as it explores your mouth, you can taste the lust on his lips, and you happily welcome the sensation.

His right hand works around the way your gown has flared out in the water and eventually wraps itself around your ass, pulling you up onto his lap. You’re mostly out of the water now, just your shins being completely submerged. You’re slightly weighed down by the added weight of a wet skirt, but you sit comfortably on the guards lap, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck, kissing him from above now. The kiss is forced down, and this time you’re able to lick into his mouth, nibbling his lip and deepening the kiss further from the angle. You can’t help your hands from cupping his face now, pulling him into you.

Your noses rub into one another, and both of his arms lift you up from behind. Your back arches into him, and your breathing hitches, getting heavier and hotter. He starts to get hard, you feel it under your body, and a mixture of the kissing and the pressure beginning to press into your cunt is really starting to turn you on. You start to just softly grind against him, moaning a little bit at the feeling of his growing cock against your heat. His hands help you, making the humping motion more smooth and natural. The kissing becomes sloppy now, and the water from the wet bodice is making your nipples just that much harder.

Your hands are reaching down to slide the suspenders off his shoulders, and then you’re pulling his shirt up and unhooking the trousers. Your hand is reaching in and finding the base of his hardening, thick length. He groans at your touch, and you’re bending down to kiss his neck, sucking deep, purple hickeys into his golden skin. You’re needy, still grinding against him and trying not let the water slow you down. He’s sighing breathy moans and grunts in your ear as you start jerking him off. The water does make it hard, but there’s something about the added sensation of the flowing water that really made it unique. You swipe your thumb over the head a few times, getting drunk with the unexpected control you have. This was the first time the two of you have fooled around that you really got to have total dominance. You liked it… you really liked.

He did too.

Your clit is able to rut so slightly and deliciously into your fist and his cock, and you’re having a hard time not letting your eyes open and flutter in pleasure. The same shocks of ecstasy ran up and down your spine, and he held you closer to his body, using his strong hands to cup your ass and knead the soft skin. You’re panting, your free hand reaches down to rub your clit, both of your hands working in between your legs as you straddle the Knight. You’re going to cum already and can’t believe it’s happening so fast but choose not to hold it back. You’re moaning out loud when you cum against your fingers, graining against his lap fast and squeezing his cock a little harder.

“Fuck, did you just cum?” He asks deep in his voice, growling in your ear. You hum out in response against his neck pathetically, and all dominance you previously possessed dissolves as you keep jerking off your Knight. “Dirty girl, kiss me. Keep those pretty eyes closed.” His throat is dry, which you remember from last time that that means he’s close, too. You reach up to kiss him again, going in tongue first and breathing in his scent deeply. One of his hands reaches around to cup yours that is working his length, holding it and adding pressure and then making you go faster, you happily oblige and soon the pace is quick and he’s grunting against your lips. He cums in your hand, you feel the heat of it. He’s panting and sighing and it’s all so hot you think you could get turned on by it again.

He rests his head on your shoulder after cumming, catching his breath. You take your hand out of the water and you tangle your fingers through his hair, toying with the curls as he sighs against your wet skin. You open your eyes now, looking out at the horizon, lashes heavy with lust.

[SMUT ENDS HERE]

“Gross.” You chuckle.

“You liked it.” He hums against your collar bone. His hands are steadfast on your lower back, holding you there against his chest. He doesn’t have the cold breastplate separating the two of you, so your hearts were pressed against one another, beating in perfect synch. You could also finally feel how warm his body was, despite the wet clothes and gentle waves. In your peripheral, you can see some of the brown curls.

Your heart warms, this might be the happiest you have ever been. The two of you must have sat like that for a long time because your skin was starting to prune and your hair was slowly drying with the wind. His breathing had completely calmed, and he was so still and quiet that just for a moment you wondered if he had fallen asleep. The sun was almost down completely, only a little sliver of it peaking over the water. You watched it as it fell to its resting place in the ocean, the sky still blazing oranges and yellows but cooling with a soft, pale blue from the top down. It was so… serene, so peaceful. Nothing like the crashing waves of Corellia. This was the best part of Mandalore yet. It’s saving grace.

The crescent moon is on the horizon when he’s turning to kiss your ear one more time and asking you to close your eyes as he pulls the helmet back on.

“We should probably get back, I don’t want to be late for Vizsla and I’m afraid I’ve started to lose track of time.” He stands up and holds his hand out for you to take. You attempt to hoist yourself up out of the water, but the wet dress has added so much weight that you can’t lift your legs up. You grunt in effort, but there’s no budging. “Huh, looks like we need to take that thing off.”

“Again?” You look up at him, you knew he had a smug smirk under all that beskar. You reach behind you to undo the corset just enough for you to step out of it, water dripping from your undergarment as he yanks you up and out of the warm water. “I’m starting to think you just really like seeing me naked.” You mutter and don’t realize how close you were to him while saying that until after. You catch your tongue, holding your breath as he looks down at you.

“Yeah, something like that.” He mumbles in response and you believe you could faint and die right then and there. He doesn’t let the moment stew for nearly as long as you would have liked for it, however and he’s pulling the sopping wet dress out of the water and carrying it back on shore. He hands it to you when he gets to his armor, and you try ringing some of the liquid out from the fabric but it’s almost too heavy for you to even hold in your arms. He re-assembles his gear on top of the wet clothes and you know that can’t be comfortable. Sand clings to your bare, wet feet, and you're desperately trying to brush some of it off before slipping your shoes back on. He’s resituated too fast, he has dressing his armor down to a perfection and you’re sad to see your beach adventure come to a close so quickly.

Before you know it, he’s walking up the hill again with you by his side, making your ways to Clove who has been diligently and patiently chewing on the grass in the field this entire time.

“Ride with me.” You ask as he helps you onto the palomino. “Please.” You ask. “We’ll get to the palace faster and then maybe you can get out of those wet clothes before you have to go to the meeting.” You ask. He sighs but then nods with a shrug, hoisting himself onto the horse behind you. You were riding normally now, and situated yourself comfortably into his chest. The wet gown lay on the back of the horse and you wished you had thought about removing that before getting into the water.

As the two of you start a gentle gallop to the palace, you feel your hair get drier. At one moment he reaches his hand up to run bare fingers over your healing bicep.

“We should have kept this out of the water.” He says in your ear. You twist your head back to reply.

“It’s okay, really. It’s starting to feel a lot better.” You reassure.

“It looks better, but the salt water can only do bad things to it.” He explains. You shrug, unsure of how he expects you to respond.

The three of you arrive at the castle just as the sky begins to darken, both of you still damp from the ocean but your hearts still full and bodies still riding the orgasm high. The Knight helps you off the horse, and now that you aren’t alone, you feel very aware that you’re only in your undergarments and really anyone could see you. You pull the wet gown off the rump of Clove, which was so saturated that it made his fur wet. You hold it against your body, trying to cover yourself up as much as possible. The Knight removes the saddle of the horse, storing it away and removing the bit. He stretches the beast’s ears and then walks over to the far side of the stable to grab a carrot out of a bucket before handing it to Clove as a reward for his hard work. You watch him as he expertly takes care of the animal, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Then, with no warning, the two of you hear the shrill voice of none other than Koska Reeves.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.” She’s crossing over the dirt courtyard to the stables. Her hair has been done now, put up into the customary braids they usually are in. She was now wearing the royal blue color reserved for the Queen’s court, a golden sash sitting on her hips. She held the dress above her feet and she hustled in your direction. You felt scared, you knew Koska meant business, and was not afraid to scold. She was intimidating, to say the least. “You’re soaking wet.” She gasps when she gets to the stable fence. “Come with me, Princess. We must get you changed before anyone sees you or the Queen will have my head.” She sighs, opening the gate for you to walk through. “As for you, Vizsla’s here early.”

“What.” You heard the drop in his voice from panic. “Why?”

“No one knew, he just arrived before we could do any regular welcoming. The evaluation is starting in ten minutes, I suggest you move your ass.” She shakes her head. You were incredibly thankful you had both rode Clove now. He wouldn’t have made it back in time if you hadn’t. You did feel a twinge of guilt, however. You shouldn’t have pushed for that so much and risked him missing his mandatory meeting. But an overwhelming part of you was more than happy that you got to experience those few hours alone with him. He swears under his breath before bowing to you, shrugging apologetically and then full sprinting towards the servant quarter’s entrance. “I would take that from you,” Koska says in reference to the wet dress, “But I’m already in my ceremonial dress. I can’t get it wet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I can manage.” You nod. The two of you begin to walk back inside, and the night time breeze runs over your wet body, making you shudder ever-so-slightly. When you get back inside, the Knight is nowhere to be seen, and there’s only a fraction of the people as there were earlier. The masks had all been moved somewhere, which let you know they finished them. A mother sat on a chair by the fireplace, nursing a small baby and three young boys who couldn’t be any older than seventeen all sat around one table playing some type of card game and eating buttered bread. They were the stable boys. The three of them stared at you when you walked in, in awe of your unparalleled beauty and the fact that you were carrying a massive, heavy, wet dress.

Koska led you down a hall adjacent to the fireplace. You could see into a few sleeping quarters. The little ones were dozing off, and in one room was a couple laughing together. The small community that existed underneath the palace was something you deeply admired. You wouldn’t have had any idea any of this was here if you hadn’t pushed for today’s events, and you truly loved it. You loved how all these people found refuge and a home here.

You wished you could, too.

Koska stops at one door, taking the wet dress out of your hands and tossing it into the room before closing the wooden door shut and progressing back down the hallway. She eventually opens up a door to a small room with a single bed and large chest.

“Is this your room?” You ask, looking around and familiarizing yourself with it. A single embroidery hoop with a half-done pattern sat on the bed, on the windowsill was a melting candle whose wax had dried in a cascading pattern on the ancient stone, and at the foot of the bed was a small table with a wash basin and hairpins.

“No, It’s my sister’s. My room is closer to the Queen’s.” She nods. You had no clue Koska had a sister. She opens up the chest and pulls out a dry under-slip and simple but pretty purple dress. It wasn’t a ballgown and had long, bell sleeves in a similar fashion to Koska’s. There was some moon and star embroidery on the bodice.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You said, starting to shiver a little now.

“Her name is Alva, she works in the kitchen.” She nods as she crosses over to the table, opening up a little box to pull out a horse-hair comb.

“Will she mind us using her things?”

“Well, you’re the Princess, so I hope not.” She shrugs and crosses over the room again like a madwoman, pulling a wool blanket from the chest. “Here, strip and dry off.” You look at her, confused. “Alright… I’ll turn around then.” Koska rolls her eyes and turns to face the wall. You peel off the wet slip, and use the wool material to wipe your body dry. It wasn’t nearly as soft and luxurious as the cotton robes you have five floors up, but it will do for now. You have sand everywhere, and you mean everywhere. You brush it off as best you can, hoping it doesn’t make too much of a mess for anyone to have to clean. You then pull on the dry clothes, and clear your throat when you’re done and decent.

Koska turns around and smiles. “Sit, I’ll brush your hair for you and then escort you back upstairs to see your parents.”

You had completely forgotten that they would be arriving tonight. You get a twinge of adrenaline. You’ve been so homesick, and it will be nice to see some familiar faces after such an emotional two weeks. You sit at the stool in front of the table, and Koska carefully combs out your knotted but drying hair.

“So… It looks like you two had fun.” She says. You smile and blush.

“Yes, we did.” You chuckle.

“That’s good, it’s been so long since he’s had fun. He deserves it.” She hums in response and you immediately question how they know one another so well again.

“How do you know each other?” You ask, knowing there's no harm in that.

Koska sighs, “We… used to work together in a sense. He’s a good man, an even better father.” She shrugs. So that’s four people you can think of who know about his son, You, Koska, Peli and the woman from Isla’s bar… although that situation seemed different, magical almost.

“You two never…” You trail off, not really wanting to hear the answer but not stopping yourself before you ask it anyways.

Koska laughs out loud this time, stopping the combing motion, “Oh stars, no. Never. I have someone else… and he has you.”

Your heart warms at that phrase. “Who is this ‘someone else’ you speak of?” You ask, enjoying the casual girl talk the two of you are sharing.

She hums again, “You’ve met her, she’s shorter than me and far more serious, she has a fire burning, but she’s special to me.” You can hear the smile in Koska’s tone.

You wonder who she’s talking about.

—

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[jerry-hornes-foot]

Incoming duffer brothers rant :)

I'm still fuckin mad that Steve says the f slur in season one, for a lot of reasons

- Point 1

Like a lot of choices the duffers make it simply has big edgelord teenage boy energy. Like they saw a chance to crowbar a slur into their show and jumped at it and that always annoys me. It's the sort of thing that you need a really really solid reason to use, and to be honest in the case of two cishet men writing a programme I just don't really see the need at all

There's no plot reason for it at all, at no point before or after that is it even hinted that Steve is homophobic, and so it shouldn't be in his vocabulary. It doesn't say anything about the plot, or the characters, it's not even making comment on social issues. It's just there to make you go "oh my god I can't believe he said that!"

-Point 2

It's just dumped into the middle of an episode because they literally forgot what Steve's character was. They wrote him to be a bully, except they accidentally made him a perfectly reasonable guy right up to that moment. He tells his friends to stop bullying Jonathan, he's nice to Barb, he only breaks Jonathan's camera because he used it to commit a literal sex offence against Nancy, then they suddenly remember he's meant to be a bad guy and in the space of less than five minutes he paints the nancy sign on the cinema and says a slur.

It's as if they got to that scene and realised they'd made Jonathan the bad guy by accident then went "uhhh fuck, let's just have him do the most heinous shit we can imagine out of nowhere". It feels rushed, and a bit lazy, and to be honest the fact that they use the slur literally just for the shock factor makes the whole thing worse for me

- Point 3

They never address it ever again. Steve learns nothing from it. Yes, he goes to apologise to Jonathan, but he could have also gone to apologise just for beating him up or for calling him some other horrible (not bigoted) name

It's an issue that plagues a lot of the duffer brothers writing where they tack a really awful character trait onto someone for shock value and then forget they did it. The same thing with Jonathan and the creeper photos, in seasons 2-4 Jonathan is just a sweet misunderstood teenager, and that element of season 1 is never addressed to the point that one can only assume we're meant to pretend it never happened.

Steve never has an arc surrounding use of language like that, he never actively regrets it, he never even actually gets given a moment to apologise. It just gets left there to hang over the character as this weird out of place element. I think story wise season 1 is probably the strongest, but the characters are all fundamentally different people to the point that watching back certain scenes is jarring. Which, for me, just reinforces point 1, its so whiplash inducing how out of place it is that it just makes me feel even more that they picked it just for shock

- Point 4

This is what made me furiously write this in the middle of the night. No one says fuck in stranger things. It's rated 18 and there's one fuck ever (afaik). There are characters like Eddie who will occasionally get given really clunky lines because they use shit or damn in a place any normal person would just say fuck. Especially with Eddie, in fact, the awkwardness of the lack of fucks makes it feel super intentional

If they just didn't want a word as strong as fuck in their programme, fine, but that doesn't really fit right in a programme where they were happy to fire in the f slur when there was half as much adult content in the programme as a whole

~~~~

Maybe I'm overthinking the whole thing, it just makes me feel super yucky anytime I watch that scene and I wanted to share my thoughts on it. I've seen people talk about it before in terms of Steve as a person but I've been thinking for a while now about it in relation to the text as a whole

Anyway if you made it this far well done hahaha thank you for sticking it out, sorry for getting mad !

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you know of any fics wherein there's a courtroom scene in it? thank you very much.

Hey Lovely!

Ahhh, these are the ones that immediately come to mind.... I know I’ve missed some, so please add some if you have any, gang! <3 Please note, anything in the MFL section of this list was added because it showed up with keywords I searched for in the doc, and I don’t know if they all have court scenes, LOL. SORRY in advance if they don’t! <3

COURTROOM SCENES

The Trial of Sherlock Holmes by jenna221b (G, 3,015 w. across 3 works || TAB!lock, Metafic / TJLC, Victorian AU / 1895, Christmas, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Oscar Wilde) – Scripts based on speculation that Sherlock will be put on trial in The Abominable Bride to parallel the Oscar Wilde Trials of 1895.

five times sherlock holmes lied to john watson (and one time he finally told the truth) by miss_frankenstein (G, 5,948 w., 1 Ch. || TAB Compliant || Homophobia, Pining Sherlock, Oscar Wilde Trials, Happy Ending) – Set in "The Abominable Bride" universe, this piece adopts a familiar format to chronicle Sherlock's quiet suffering in the wake of the 1895 Oscar Wilde trials and the particular way they affect his relationship with (and feelings for) John.

The Thin Line by Odamaki (M, 10,809 w., 1 Ch. || Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Confessions, First Times, Anal, Idiots in Love, Hand Jobs, Gentle Kissing) – John swallows. Keeps his eyes on Sherlock. Begs him not to ruin him.Sherlock leans forward over the witness box ever-so slightly, "I was distracted," he informs the court, "by my partner, John Watson.”

To Mend Icarus by AlessNox (T, 28,347 w., 14 Ch. || Post-TRF / Pre-S3 Divergence, BAMF John, Anger, Fighting, Sex, Bed Sharing, Stalking, Case Fic, John’s Past, Introspection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crime, Mythology, Darkness) – After a case lands John Watson in court, he tells Sherlock that he is leaving. Not understanding why, Sherlock decides that the only way to learn the truth is to investigate his flatmate, Dr. John Watson. Sherlock finds that coming back is not enough to fix all of the damage that he caused by leaving. A post Reichenbach, post reunion re-discovery fic.

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Sentenced by SarahKnight (T, 44,777 w., 30 Ch. || Dev. Rel., Alternate S4 Canon, Drama, Angst, Pining, Feelings are Hard) – Virtual series 4 opener. Sherlock's in prison being targeted by a murderer, John's married to a pregnant assassin and Moriarty's back.

MARKED FOR LATER

Do You Get the Gist of the Song Now? by Riffir (E, 3,642 w., 1 Ch. || Dom / Sub AU || Masturbation, Caning, Riding Crop, Mouth Soaping) – Inspired by the courtroom scene in Season 2 Episode 3 (as was obviously some of the dialogue that I blatantly ripped off), SubSherlock refuses to play nice in the courtroom and is sentenced to judicial caning. As well as John's censure later on.

It Yet Remains to See by 4getwhatisaid (T, 11,000 w., 4 Ch. || High School / Teenlock AU || Rape/Non-Con, Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Brief Mentions of Self-Starvation, Past Sexual Abuse, Caring John, Naked Cuddling, Happy Ending) – Teenage Sherlock and John deal with the aftermath of their encounter with Moriarty, but more troubles arise when Sherlock becomes involved in the villain's court case. Part 2 of the All We Need of Hell series

Dehumanise Me by deuxexmycroft (E, 26,898 w., 6 Ch. || Prison AU || Rape / Non-Con, Graphic Violence, Abuse, Dom/Sub Elements) – John is sent down for life after accidentally murdering someone, and gets snatched up to play prison wife for a strange man named Sherlock Holmes.

Orange is the new sexy by Sardonicpineapple (E, 42,217 w., 31 Ch. || Prison AU || Top John, Correctional Officer John, Prisoner Sherlock, Sub Sherlock, Dom John, Crying During Sex, Oral / Anal, Fingering, Age Gap, Power Play, Angst & Fluff, Power Dynamics) – 19 year old Sherlock Holmes is sentenced to 13 months in prison. Bullied, bored and lonely, Sherlock can’t believe his luck when a young, sexy, former soldier comes to work as a correctional officer.

Homo homini by Madoshi & Serinah (M, 43,826 w., 4 Ch. || Slavery AU || Domestic Violence Mentions, Depictions of Violeence, Psychological Trauma, Mentions of Torture and Brainwashing, Stockholm Syndrome, Enslavement, Interrogating Under Influence and With Prejudice) – In a world where people are divided into masters and slaves, Sherlock Holmes is sentenced to slavery. For life. He is then purchased for personal use by his best friend John Watson. Now, they have to live with it. And solve crimes. Including the one that landed Sherlock before the court of justice.

Do No Harm by Calais_Reno (T, 79,203 w., 16 Ch. || 1920′s AU || Murder Mystery, Flappers, Drugs, Developing Relationship, Period-Typical Homophobia, POV Sherlock, Trials, Prison) – In 1923, Dr John Watson is on trial for the murder of his lover, Mary Morstan, a writer of popular mysteries. If convicted, he will hang. Sherlock Holmes sets out to prove his innocence, but finds himself more and more infatuated with the handsome doctor, and deeper and deeper inside the bohemian world of London's painters, playwrights, and poets. Will he uncover the evidence needed to acquit him in time?

An Innocent Man by Fangs_Fawn (T, 183,970 w., 42 Ch. || S3 Fix It, PTSD, Angst, Mystery, Drama, Violence, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Redemption, Forgiveness, Prison, No Slash) – "And what about John Watson?" Sherlock had asked. He had expected a rather dull answer...after all, he had been away. He had not expected to hear that John had spent the past two years in prison.

All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (E, 188,426 w., 33 Ch. || Case Fic, Action/Adventure, POV First Person, Alternate Canon, Romance, Hurt / Comfort, Love at First Sight, Asexuality, Kidnapping, Torture, Drug Use/Addiction) – Sherlock sent Jim Moriarty to prison for killing Carl Powers at age ten. This is the story of the consequences.

[dirty-urie]

McBrendon

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

Unspecified Era

Smut Oneshot

NC-17

3.2k Words

Warnings in order of appearance: RPF, language throughout, not pre-discussed roleplay scene, medical roleplay and language, sex

Author's Notes:

So, basically, I was re-watching Grey's Anatomy, and I was like, "What if Brendon was here?" and then this was born. I have no idea if someone who's never watched Grey's Anatomy would understand or appreciate this, but basically what I think you need to know is that Derek Shepherd and Mark Sloan are sexy manwhores (in the earier seasons), and a common recurring joke in the earlier seasons of the show is putting "Mc" in front of adjectives to describe love interests. The fic is supposed to be more silly than sexy, but maybe it's sexy too, I don't really know.

"Wait, what about those two?" He asks, and you sigh exasperatedly.

"Brendon, just assume that all of the doctors on the Doctor Sex Show have slept together. That's the whole point."

He groans and slumps back in his chair, "Remind me why we have to watch this overdramatic doctor smut in the theater? The theater should be a sacred space for Disney movies or action movies with boobies and explosions, not 'ohhhh does McCreamy only like Natalie because she hooked up with Appendectomy?.'"

"It's my week on laundry duty, and whoever's folding laundry gets to watch whatever they want wherever they want. That's the rules, but you can go watch something in the living room or on your computer or on your phone if you don't like it," you offer, trying to get rid of him. You love Brendon, you love him so much, but sometimes you need to sit in the dark and fold laundry with no other noises except your soapy little doctor show.

"Fine. The men of the house are going to go watch something manly, don't bother us. Come on, Bogart!"

Brendon's little Jack Russell turns to look at you as if asking to stay, but you pat his back and send him off to go snuggle with his dad. You don't think you could handle Brendon's betrayed gasps if you let Bogart finish the episode with you. You and Penny will be fine ogling at Patrick Dempsey while file-folding Brendon's 68 pairs of gray and black sweatpants alone. Brendon kisses your cheek before he leaves. "Have fun with the boobs and explosions, babe," you tell him on his way out of the room.

"Oh, you know I will!"

•••

Two weeks later, it's your turn to fold laundry again, and you're back to watching Grey's, this time in the living room. The dogs are sitting next to you, eyes glued to the screen. Brendon's also in the room, bitching about "introducing this drivel into our home," but you're ignoring him because you don't need that kind of negativity in your life.

He finally quiets down, and you appreciate the five minutes of peace. Until… "Are you unsatisfied with our sex life?" He asks out of the blue.

You're taken completely aback for a second before you scramble to pause the tv. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, what? Where did this come from?" you ask him. What the fuck? Is he unsatisfied with your sex life?

"Well, we haven't had sex in weeks practically." Three days actually. It's been three days, but you don't interrupt him. "And you keep watching this sexy doctor show, so I don't know, maybe you're feeling like a bored housewife," Brendon explains.

You laugh at him, and he looks offended. "You're overthinking it, baby boy. It's just a show! Sure, the sexual tension between the entire hospital and Mark Sloan is spicy and exciting, but I'm not trying to compensate for anything lacking in my life. If anything, all that spice just translates into better sex for both of us. Okay?"

He looks very skeptical. "Hm, sure. I totally believe you."

You don't necessarily think you properly got your point across to him, but Meredith just made another bad decision, and you need to see how it pans out. "Okay, great, now go watch a manly show with Bogs in our room if you're going to keep whining."

Brendon does not, in fact, go into your room to watch a manly show on his laptop. Instead, he and Bogart start watching season 1 of Grey's Anatomy, immediately getting highly invested in the lives of the ambitious-yet-messy surgical interns. He's trying to figure out what exactly appeals to you about the show.

•••

It's his turn to fold the clothes, and he's doing it wrong, but you're resisting the urge to do it for him because you're a feminist, damnit. He's still letting you watch Grey's Anatomy because he's a doll (and you don't know this, but he's also become a bit of a fan.)

"Do you think I'm more a Mark Sloan or a Derek Shepherd?" He asks.

You scoff, "You're a George."

"I am not! I'm way sexier than George!"

"You're just jealous because I'm an Addison."

"Pshh, you're a Bailey. You wanna know how I know?" He asks.

"Fine. Tell me." You give in.

"You desperately want to correct my laundry technique."

•••

"Meet me in the on-call room in five," Brendon whispers against the back of your neck while you're drying the dishes from dinner. What is this man doing? "Meet you where?" You ask, but he's already walked away. You're not sure whether to actually wait the five minutes or just try to go find him.

You give him three minutes before going to the bedroom. You honestly don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't Brendon laying on his side in the middle of your bed, shirtless under a white coat. He has on a pair of navy blue scrub pants that aren't particularly flattering, but they still look nice on him.

"Explain to me what's happening here, homie," you tell him.

"I'm being sexy for you! So sexy! I'm Dr. Brendon "McKinky" Urie, I'm a general surgery attending, but my real specialty is pleasure."

You visibly cringe for him. "You're a McDoofus, and your real specialty is probably malpractice."

He pouts. "Play along. Come on. Please? Be Dr. Y/N Sexy."

You roll your eyes. "Why do you get your real last name, but I'm Dr. Sexy?"

"Because we're not married in this fantasy! We're both cheating on our spouses but not in a tragic way, in a sexy way! Come on! Let yourself have fun," he pleads.

You feel yourself start to cave. "Fine, I'll play along, but I'm stopping this the minute I feel weird, okay?"

"Of course. And, babe, if you don't want to do this, you absolutely do not have to," he says, serious now.

"No, no, Brendon. I'm down for this. I think you're a total goof for doing it, but I trust you."

He brightens, "Great! Now it's time for your examination." He waggles his eyebrows, climbing off the bed and gesturing for you to take his place.

"Exam? Am I a patient? Why am I in the on-call room if I'm a patient?" You ask.

"Doctors need exams too, y'know. We're both doctors, but I don't know, you need a routine exam for like moles or something. Take your clothes off." He says, and you take a split-second to be grateful that Brendon got discovered for his musical talents and will therefore never be an actual doctor.

You stifle back your laughter and strip down to your underwear, lying on your back on top of the white sheet he put over the comforter to protect the bed from any potential messes. He stands over you next to the bed, and you're happy that you at least get to stare at his body during this little experiment. The whole "doctor" thing may not be driving you wild on its own, but your half-naked husband always will.

"Thank you for coming to this appointment, Dr. Y/N Sexy," he says. Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh, you chant in your head. "First," he says, making his voice husky, "I need to test your reflexes." Something tells you he won't be using one of those little hammers. He bends down and breathes against your neck. You shiver, and goosebumps appear on your arms. You're glad you wore your front clasp bra when he unclips it and has immediate access to your breasts. He circles around your nipple with his finger, and they harden quickly. "Mmm, good reflexes indeed. Very responsive," he purrs. "I don't think your test results are conclusive yet. You should keep going," you encourage. He rubs your scalp, and your head rolls back. You're worried that you'll start drooling.

Brendon smirks at you a little, and his smugness is slightly infuriating. Yes, you like him touching you, but that hardly proves that his weird roleplaying was a good idea. "Just like I observed, fantastic reflexes. But I now must move on to the chest exam." He rests his head on your chest, and you're beginning to suspect that this whole thing was just a ploy to touch your boobs a lot. "Is your heart rate always this fast or just when your hot coworker is touching you?"

"Normally only my husband, also named Brendon… for some reason, can get me so worked up, but now I'm thinking of leaving him for you, McCrinkly."

"It's McKinky, and your husband sounds gorgeous and super smart. You should keep him around," he says, climbing onto you and groping your breasts. "In my professional opinion, these are nice tits."

You have to bite your lip to resist the urge to laugh again. You wouldn't quite say you're aroused, but you are having fun at least. "Okay, okay, doc. Enough of the preliminary exam; I need five and a half inches, stat."

"You couldn't round up to six while we're playing!?"

"Oh, come on, you're lucky I rounded up to five and a half!"

"Rude! So rude!"

You kiss him to shut him up. "Sorry, baby, I won't bully you anymore. Now, how about a cervical exam?" You suggest, craving his thickness inside you.

That cheers him up. Brendon resumes his doctor roleplay. "First, let me complete the dermatological examination. If you could remove your undergarments, please."

You throw your bra on the floor and take off your underwear.

He admires the small amount of newly-exposed skin. "So many marks on your breasts and pubic region. Did your hot husband leave these too, or should I investigate for a skin condition?" He asks, ducking between your thighs to add some more.

"Yeah, he left them there. My sexy husband is kind of the best, but enough about him," you say.

New dark spots pop up after he finally moves his mouth from the sensitive skin of your thighs. "Oops, I think I just burst a couple of capillaries."

Well, someone did some light googling. "Do you think I'll make it?" You ask, faking drama.

"Yes, but you'll need someone to pay lots of attention to the area between your thighs."

He never mastered the art of subtly, did he? "I don't think that will be an issue. My husband will be thrilled."

"Great, that's taken care of. Shall we commence with the cervical exam then?" He asks, rolling off you to tug off his scrubs and underwear. He keeps his dumb coat on, which is more goofy than sexy without clothes underneath, but you don't tell him that. "And we can test your motor skills at the same time. Hands and knees, please."

You obey, and he moves behind you to enter you. He pushes into you quickly and hard, just like you like it. "God, there's so much blood in my, hm, um corpus cavernosum… I think," he says.

"Your what? Are you trying to cast a Harry Potter spell? because that's a whole different roleplay," You crane your neck back to see him, and your eyes widen. "Brendon, are you," you need to pause to choke back your laughter, "are you reading from a flashcard? While inside me?"

He's on his knees behind you, squinting at a white notecard. He flips the card over and reads from it, "the corpus cavernosum is, um, the main erectile tissue in the genitals. So, uh, I was trying to say that I'm hard for you."

That's it, you can't contain your laughter. You can't even bear to look at Brendon without cracking up. Tears are streaming down your face. He hisses, and you think it's because you've upset him, but you turn back to look at him, and he's biting his lip, his head tilted back.

"Are you good, B?" You ask, a little worried.

He's breathing hard. "Yeah, just your laughing caused contractions around my cock, and I was not prepared. Felt good, just unexpected." He pulls almost all the way out and then jerks back in, not quite slamming but gearing up to it.

"Faster, please. Careful still, but faster," you request.

He speeds up perfectly, finally filling you up and relieving the ache inside you. You relish each time his hips meet your body, feeling close to him, even if the position isn't as intimate as he usually likes. You suppose successful Dr. Kinky, notorious womanizer, wouldn't necessarily want to make loving, passionate eye contact with all of his conquests.

"So, Dr. Kinky-"

"No, it's doctor Urie, McKinky."

Jesus, you need a script. "So, Dr. Urie, do you have enough energy after all those lobotomies or whatever to rub a girl's clit? I bet my husband, the other Brendon, would touch me."

"Well, I would never even bother to compete with such a stellar man, but I can still try to get you off." His hands move between your thighs to touch your cunt. "Oh no, so much excess fluid here. I hope nothing's wrong." He puts a finger on your throbbing clit and feigns a sigh of relief, "Good, I've found a pulse." His touch is feather-light as he slowly strokes you. The contrast between his fast, hard thrusts and delicate strokes somehow enhances both of his actions.

"Oh, that's nice," you moan.

"You mind if I have you roll over? I still have to test your flexibility, and I'd love to do that with your legs on my shoulders."

"Fuck yeah."

He pulls out, and you get on your back; he gets you ready by situating the pillows underneath you. You rest a leg on either shoulder, and he thrusts in again. You don't want to admit it to him, but you feel like you'll need to come soon. The spikes of pleasure pulsing between your legs have been getting stronger and closer together, and now that you can see what you do to him, rather than just hearing his occasional grunts, you feel even closer to crossing that finish line.

"I'm observing some rapid contractions, Sexy. Should I note in your chart how close you are to coming all over me? Because it seems to me that you're failing your stamina and endurance evaluation," Dr. Urie teases.

You close your eyes to try to eliminate a source of the arousal, but you still feel painfully close to the edge.

Brendon inadvertently shifts a bit, and that does it. Your arousal peaks intensely, and you try to restrain your reactions on the off chance he doesn't notice. However, you're pretty sure he does notice your orgasm when his movements slow to a stop, and that's confirmed when he outright says it. "You just came," he states. It's not a question.

You nod, not bothering to deny it.

He pulls out, and you finally get to see his still-hard cock soaked with your wetness. "Well I suppose, we can run… further tests to reach a full diagnosis," he practically croons, pulling his scrub pants back on, and a wave of lust spreads from your stomach. Fine, the doctor thing is a little hot. "It's up to you though, I defer to your professional opinion."

"I think my exam is complete, actually, but I know you've been complaining of some pain in this region," you give his crotch a quick squeeze. "Do you mind stripping so I can investigate?"

He immediately takes off his coat, obviously excited, and gives it to you, so you put it on. "So, can you describe the pain?" You ask, putting a hand on his thigh.

"Kind of an ache, I guess?"

You squeeze his thigh, "And you'd say the pain is mainly here?"

"No, uh, um, to the right."

You squeeze his other thigh, "Oh, I see, right here?"

"No, not, um, my thigh."

"Sorry, I understand." You lay your hand flat on his stomach, still carefully avoiding his cock. "Your stomach must be hurting."

"Still not quite."

You clench your jaw in fake frustration. "Well, could you just show me where you need my attention, Doctor Urie?"

He shoves down his pants and grasps his leaking cock, groaning in relief when he starts to tentatively touch himself.

"Yes, very good, thank you. Would you say the ache subsides with stimulation?" You ask professionally.

Brendon nods and smirks a bit, "Yeah, you could say that."

"Well, I think you just need to achieve ejaculation," you diagnose.

"Is that, ah, covered under my insurance?" He asks cheekily, still jerking himself.

You laugh, going to dig the lubricant out, "Okay," you nudge his hand away, "leave this to the professionals." You pour the clear lube into your hand. "This may be a bit cold," you warn. He doesn't really need the lube, he's both leaking profusely and still slick from being inside you, but you want to keep up the "doctor vibes." You grasp him firmly and stroke quickly, trying to get him off as soon as you can. You kind of want to use your mouth, but you can't think of a good reason to within the roleplay. That's mostly fine, though, because you can tell he's about to come.

He comes all over your hand without warning a minute or so later. He shudders and groans, spurting twice more. You didn’t realize how worked up he was. Of course, you saw how hard he was, but to come this much from just jerking him off means he was really turned on. "Outstanding sperm production, sir," you say, crudely wiping him up with a tissue.

"Okay, no more doctor talk. My brain is too mushy," he groans.

You take off the coat and get into bed, cuddling against him. "If your brain is mushy, you probably should see a doctor."

He giggles. "So, would you do this again?"

You think for a second. "Well, I'd roleplay with you again, but you have to warn me next time. And probably not the doctor thing again. It was hot playing with you, but thinking about actual medical procedures is not my thing."

He yawns, "Noted about the warning you next time, and that's too bad. I was really looking forward to the oral exam. How big is your mouth? How's your swallow technique?" He says, half-jokingly.

"Hey, don't push it, or we're doing a prostate exam, and due to budget cuts to the hospital, we're going to be low on lubricant."

He cringes, "Point taken. I don't need a doctor roleplay; the next time I want a blowjob, I'll just ask."

You get out of bed and put on your pajamas. "Well, if it's in the next 45 minutes, your request is getting denied because Penny Lane, Bogart, and I are watching the real Grey's Anatomy in the theater while you're still too weak to complain about it. And this is a good time to tell you that my character is not actually a medical doctor. I have a PHD in film studies. I’m a fraud.”

His mouth drops open, "You're telling me that wasn't an official medical handjob?!"

"I trust that you'll get over this. Love you, babe."

He scowls but still mutters a quiet, “I love you too.”

[codename-adler]

Dear Tumblr toxicity,

Hi. Adler here. We need to talk.

- TW: mental health issues, depression, bipolar disorder, self-harm, homophobia, transphobia, coming out, xenophobia, islamophobia, racism, implied sexual content, rape, non-con, addictions, abuse, parental negligence, depictions of violence, swearing (please message me kindly if I forget anything)

- What prompted this message: The release of Skam France S7 teaser (emphasis on teaser, will get into that below)

- Where I’m coming from: I will talk from the pov of a white, cis and queer 22-years-old woman (she/her); this is the pov that affects my experiences and the opinions I will share below; but my message comes from a place of deep hurt, and love

- What this is about: My goal is to share a recurring experience that has hurt me in order to spread a message of awareness, maturity, peace and love

- Central content: Skam France, Skam Wtfock, and Skam/remakes in general

From now on I will assume people have enough information for me to talk about the topics without explaining every plotline/character. There are plenty of wiki pages to help you out and I will gladly answer any (respectful) questions asked if a plothole bothers your comprehension of my message. I’m only making these assumptions in order to alleviate the text.

January 9th, 2021.

The francetv slash YouTube channel releases an unexpected teaser video for an equally unexpected seventh season Skam France. The video features Tiffany, a white, cis female teenager, going into labour from denial pregnancy just after winning what appears to be a gymnastics championship. Overall, the video and its release are very dramatic.

The character of Tiffany, also called Tiff, was previously seen on season 6 of Skam France as a bully who persecuted the main character, Lola, both at school and on social media. Outside of this characterization, nothing is known about her. It is majorly accepted that Tiff is not a liked character; she rather poses as one of the antagonists of Lola’s arc.

Now you know the details of what happened, in the most objectively possible way. 

Now I’ll speak for myself.

Before I went digging around for people’s reaction, here is what I initially thought of this video.

1) Shock: I thought Skam France was over, so... Big, big shock.

2) Excitement: I hold this web series very close to my heart. It has gotten me through depressive episodes, anxiety attacks, coming out to my best friend. To see this new development? It couldn’t bring me more joy.

3) Curiosity: I recognized Tiff immediately. I was intrigued as to what would happen to her to set off a new season in true Skam Fr fashion. As soon as she started gripping her stomach, I knew she was pregnant and wasn’t aware of it. Big, big surprise here again.

4) Numbness/Overthinking: As I stared at my screen, motionless, my mind went off. What did it mean? How did she not know? Who is the father? Do we know him? Will the baby survive? Where are the other characters? Will Lamifex be present? What? How? When? Why? Who?

5) Disappointment: No, I did not like Tiff one bit in S6. Yes, I sincerely wished for a season on either Jo (ambiguous and funny teenage girl, cis + white), Sekou (seemingly neurodivergent teenage boy, cis + black), and my favorite, Max (mysterious and grave teenage boy, trans + white) So why Tiff? It felt to me like a missed opportunity, but I did not lose hope.

So, these were the five stages of my emotional process. And then I made the terrible mistake to go look for the fans’ reaction. I didn’t even look at the YT comments, I didn’t go on Instagram, I went directly here on Tumblr. Why? I’m still asking myself that. From S1 to S6 of Skam Fr, I kept my love for the show to myself and only looked at ig and video edits. I tried once, and only once, to look it up on Tumblr, and was greeted by fervent agressivity, disrespect and hate. Why did I ever forget that after watching the S7 teaser? I still don’t know.

The reactions on this platform were wild. People are furious (I get that). People are disappointed (I get that). People are anxious (I get that). People are also verbally agressive, insensitive, hateful, disrespectful and bullies. I don’t get that.

Comments along the lines of “What she gonna do with a fucking baby?”, “Are we gonna watch the baby do nothing all fucking season?”, “Wowwww, teenage pregnancy, so new and relatable!” (note the sarcasm made in the comment here), “Who gives a shit about Tiff?”, etc. 

And then all the mistakes Skam Fr ever made flooded back onto the feed. The wlw misrepresentation, the whitewashing, the overdramatization, the dubious sex scenes between minors, all of it.

Let’s take a break here. Do I condone these mistakes? Nope. Am I a white-bully apologist? Nope. Did I forget every horrible action Tiff has made in the past? Nope. She manipulated a whole school against Lola, she profited from Lola’s mother’s death, she bullied her, harrassed her, pushed her deeper into mental distress. Tiff was a despicable character that I never once liked. The way she was played by the actress made it clear that Tiff was not intended to be a good guy. If I could replace her as the main of S7, I would, in a heartbeat. I’d choose, as I said, Jo, Sekou or Max.

Skam France deeply lacks diversity and made mistakes when attempting to diverse the issues represented. This is not an opinion, it’s a fact. 

Poc representation is very, very low. Only one season has a woc of Islam beliefs as mc (Imane, S4) with poc entourage/family. Only 2 other characters not related to Imane were poc (Sekou and Sarah, S1-S2). These 2 characters were very in the background and served to further the mc’s plotline, they had no real content. (I am not a poc, and so my opinion does not matter here. If you are not poc, your “opinions” don’t matter here, this point is not for you to debate. These are facts.)

While I do not particularly find the wlw representation bad, I do understand how it hurts/bothers other queer women. From my perspective, the bar was very low regarding my expectations of the Lola/Maya pair (none of them died *yay* they had a happy ending *yay* they were not typically overfeminized or overmasculinized *yay* Lola  and Maya were respectful of each other, understood each other, accepted each other with all their flaws and their beauty *yay* I truly believed in their love and it gave me confidence and hope *yay* I ould really go on but this is not my main point so I’ll stop here) Regardless of my opinion on Mayla, I understand that to some queer women, it was bothering/hurtful. (If you are anything other than a woman / wlw, this point is not for you to debate. Keep your “opinions” to yourself, it does not matter here. These are facts.)

Like every remake of the original Skam where the S4 was given to Sana/Imane, the Muslim community was not represented at its best, at its most beautiful and respectfully. The character of Imane, although she is my favorite girl of the series, was not portrayed in a way that respected the majority of the Muslim community. (If you are anything other than Muslim, this point is not for you to debate. Our opinions do not matter here. These are facts.)

And so the same goes for the portrayal of sexual assault and child pronography in S2, of mental illness and homophobia in S3, of disabilities in S5, of addiction, transphobia, self-harm and neurodivergence in S6. Again, if you are not part of these communities, your opinions do not matter on these issues. These are facts that are not up for debate.

In other words, Skam France, as well as the original Skam, Skam Wtfock, Skam España, and probably all the others I haven’t watched in their entirety, are NOT perfect shows. They (maybe) tried their best to portray issues of the younger generations that are ugly, shameful, taboo, hard-to-swallow-pills. Of course they made mistakes. Of course they have to be held accountable. Of course they can and should do better. Of course it must be spoken about.

Here is my problem.

The so-called “fans” shamelessly SHITTING on the WHOLE show because of ONE TEASER TRAILER. (btw, this is where I get angry)

I am not talking about the fans making fun of the show and this season’s premise like “Better MCs than Tiff for S7: a romance between the car that almost hit Lucas S3 and the car that hit Arthur S5, or the school’s nurse, or Imane’s dad, or Elu’s rabbit” (that shit’s funny and I’d watch all of these).Or the joke about Wtfock and Skam Fr shaking hands while signing the same contract to disappoint the fans with white MCs (it’s funny cuz it’s trueeeee).

I am not talking about the fans criticizing the producers’ choice of Tiff as MC. There is a difference between shitting on issues and adressing/discussing them. I WANT to talk about how this season’s issue would have been so much better if a woc, specifically a black woman, had been the MC, because black women and doctors are a whole different level of issue than white women and doctors. Add on top of that an unplanned teenage pregnancy? It would have been IMMACULATE. I WANT to talk which wlw couple was better represented, Mayla or Croana/Crisana, and why is that. I WANT to talk about disabilities in black and poc communities. I WANT to talk about headcanons, AUs, to rectify the missed marks. I WANT to talk about our takes on seasons about Max, Sekou and Jo, instead of Tiff’s.

I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOUR SHITTY, NEGATIVE, UNHELPFUL, HURTFUL COMMENTS.

Just because the protagonist is white, doesn’t give you ANY right to dismiss the issue that is unplanned teenage pregnancy. This is a problem that affects countries WORLDWIDE. Do you know how many deaths are related to minors giving birth? Do you know how many babies die at birth from these pregnancies? Do you have any idea the trauma it puts you through, to go into labor without even knowing you were pregnant in the first place, and then giving birth, and then having to care for a defensless human being? The dilemma of keeping it, or giving it away? The fear that lives in every person able to give birth, that one day they’ll become pregnant, because society turns sych a shameful look to that? No matter your ethnicity, your gender identity, your sexuality, your political stance or whatever shit you bring up to justify your disgraceful and downright degrading comments, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT A MINOR GIVING BIRTH IS NOT AN ISSUE. 

You think the topic has been covered plenty before? Yeah, because shows like “16 and pregnant” and “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant!” are such good examples and show the reality with such an objective point of view! 

Bullshit. Teenage pregnancy is still a taboo, it still kills, and people are still morons about it. 

“Well I guess everybody is secretly pregnant now!” No, Jessica, but you wouldn’t know about it, would you? Because I wouldn’t tell you shit if you were my “friend” and I was going through it. The whole message of all the Skams is not that it presents super relatable issues of teenagers, although it is a big topic of the show. They present some issues that affect the youth in an authentic light, but that’s not it.

Tous les gens que tu rencontres mènent un combat dont tu ignores tout. 

Sois indulgente. Toujours. x x x

//

Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.

Be kind. Always. x x x

THAT’S THE MESSAGE. THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF THE SHOW.

And you all missed it.

All of you making dead baby jokes and death threats, degrading people who give birth, shaming teenagers for their pregnancies... Listen to yourselves.

“Well she deserves it, she was such a bitch!” No, Michael, you shit stick. Let’s rewind a bit for you, yeah? It was a GOD DAMN TEASER. We literally know nothing! Nothing at all! Why are y’all getting mad when we saw 3:25 minutes representing a whole ass season! Listen to yourselves. Y’all judge so fast for people pretending to love Skam and its authenticity and its motto.

You say Tiff is irredeemable?

Emma cheated on her boyfriend.

Manon lied and manipulated her friends.

Lucas was homophobic and prejudiced agaisnt mentally ill people.

Imane was homophobic too and went behind her friends’ back to get what she wanted.

Arthur cheated on his girlfriend too.

Lola dragged Elliot down with her in her addiction, lied, was verbally abusive, etc.

ALL THE MAINS ARE PROBLEMATIC.

Any guess why?

BECAUSE THEY ARE TEENAGERS. THEY ARE STILL GROWING AND LEARNING.

Yet we still loved them all. 

So don’t you dare tell me that Tiff deserves this, that her baby deserves to die, that teenage motherhood is irrelevant. Motherhood is not a curse in the first place, nor is it something to wish to inflict upon anyone. Motherhood is different for every single person and nobody except the person living with it can have an opinion on that. We don’t even know if the baby survived, for God’s sake!

There is no excuse for this kind of behavior..

It makes me so angry. Women are discriminated against in a fandom I thought was safe, again and again and again. 

I have to stop here because, well, this is just too much. There is much wrong with Skam (the original AND all the remakes), but there is even more wrong with the fans. I’m done.

You don’t support the show anymore? Fine, then don’t watch it! If I really am wrong, the number of viewers will go down and the show will die, just like you wished. There is no need to be vicious about it. 

I hope y’all are proud of your misogyny. 

Sincerely,

Adler.

[ubemango]

one time, in your room (m)

note: I wrote this after receiving such an enthusiastic response to my virgin!jk drabbles. I really can’t thank you guys enough for expressing interest in this story, it really helped jumpstart lunyua lol 😭😭🥰🥰!!!!!!! I’m happy she’s back:) I would be absolutely nowhere without it heheh. My thank yous are also due to Violet and my crème de la crème for helping me write this back in March--I love you both very, very much!!!!!! Enjoy :D

DISCLAIMER. there’s one scene based off a tweet that I can’t find the link to lol... it’s about getting fingered till u cry. You’ll know when you get there 😭

PAIRING. jeongguk/reader GENRE. romance, college au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 17.3k WARNINGS. alcohol, oral (f receiving), cum shot, fingering, sexting, phone sex/masturbation, face sitting, riding, talks about Babies, jk loving oc A Lot SUMMARY. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

                                          part 1: emergency tactics

It started five months in.

Jimin probably didn’t mean anything by it. There’s talk and then there’s inebriation, and Jimin slurred roughly between the two like the drunkard he is. But Jeongguk was still hurt and you didn’t know what to do.

“He called me a pussy then told me to fuck one instead,” Jeongguk said under the strobe lights, the plastic ones you buy at the dollar store and you know it’s Hoseok who got them because he’s frugal, not cheap. The couch was itchy under your skirt. “Am I—is it really that bad? Like am I doing this wrong? Am I taking too long, or—”

“No, oh my god. Babe,” you said, and the cooler in your hand found the floor before you cupped his face. He was pouting. “Doing things—like that—it’s—it shouldn’t be something you stress over, okay? Don’t listen to other people. I like you. And Jimin is a whore.”

Jeongguk snorted. You could still see the doubt in his eyes, though. Shiny because he’s tipsy, but that downward droop still there. “You’re the best,” he said as sincere as he could sound.

And he’d left it at that. He got way more drunk though, definitely influenced by his post-teen-pre-adult angst but what’s a 21-year-old supposed to do with ample service of alcohol and an aching heart? You’d left him to it and cleaned the vomit on his shirt after. It was an okay party.

It stayed okay for a bit, too. Jeongguk isn’t an insecure person, but his bouts of uncertainty were getting more and more frequent. Especially when all his friends were naturally horny and really fucking stupid.

“So you’ve been dating for almost eight months and you—still haven’t defiled him,” Jimin says, now absolutely sober and still absolutely dumb.

You can feel Jeongguk’s ears heat up. “Dude.”

Jimin ignores him and turns to you. “Aren’t you like—bored?”

“When will you stop talking,” Jeongguk murmurs through a bite of his burrito bowl.

“I’m not,” you answer Jimin, flipping through another page of a study on birth control. A convoluted piece of shit, as Taehyung put so eloquently, but he left a couple minutes ago for a study group. “And stop bullying him.”

“I’m just shocked,” Jimin continues. “How does someone so hot end up with someone even hotter and like—not immediately participate in procreation. This is a crime!”

“Look.” Your textbook flips closed. “I don’t know what your obsession is with this guy’s dick over here, but it’s mine to worry about.”

“I think you upset her,” Jeongguk says.

“I know what it’s like to be pressured into sex,” you say. You feel Jimin lock up. “Look—sorry, that was baggage and I’m stressed.” Jimin nods. “But seriously? It’s—he’s—Jeongguk’s fine the way he is, alright?”

You taper off. It’s silent save for the milling of other students in the quad, but the air is thick. Sliced through with your anger but you’d rather have this conversation in private, without Jimin and his probing. Unnerving Jeongguk was like lighting the fuse in you, and maybe it was the instinct to preserve whatever purity Jimin keeps insisting on but you’ve never seen your boyfriend so upset about something. It kind of hurt to see him like this.

You get back to taking notes when Jimin talks again. “I’ll go,” he says. “Jeongguk I—”

“It’s fine.” Doesn’t sound like it though because he’s tight-lipped. 

Jimin salutes and sidles away. A bubble of unfinished conversations swells around you.

“Thanks for—that, I guess,” he says.

Your highlighter squeaks against the paper. “Jeongguk.”

“M’yeah?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Maybe that was a bad start because Jeongguk sputters. You think he squawks, too—and he’s definitely fidgeting, lots of cut-off noises in his throat as he tries to say anything coherent. You look at him and he finally takes a breath in. “I—”

“You’re worried.”

His face contorts in confusion. “About what?”

“I don’t know. But I can feel it.”

“Same wavelength,” he laughs. Empty but he knows you’re just trying to help.

“Look.” He doesn’t but that’s because you’ve turned back to your books. “We have sex when we have sex. And if someone tries to—bother you about it, you can tell them they can suck on my fat cock.”

You hear him chortle. “I’ll do that.”

The conversation ends. You study. You still feel Jeongguk fidgeting.

Now there’s three weeks left till the term is over.  

“My—brain. It’s exploding. There’s too much going on.”

Jeongguk’s desk is a cramped space—the only place you can prop your textbook up against is his sweatshirt wrapped into a wrinkly ball. Graciously taken from his hamper because he still hasn’t done his laundry. The chair creaks when you spin to look at him: a dejected blob of comfy clothes surrounded by looseleaf paper and sticky notes. “Break time?”

He slumps against his pillows, arms out like a sad toddler. “Break time.”

This probably means you’ll cuddle for the next three hours but there’s little to complain about when Jeongguk purrs into your hair once you settle into his chest. There’s a warmth to him you can’t get anywhere else. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Just working too hard.”

“Okay,” you murmur. Jeongguk’s breath evens out the way it does when he wants to stop thinking. You can hear the hum of the fridge outside. 

“Want this to be over.”

You trace your nail over his collarbone. “I know.” 

“When’s your awards ceremony?”

“In two weeks,” you say.

“Same time as our final game.”

You lean your head up when he sighs, watching his eyes flutter in the afternoon shade of his curtains. A calmer period right after a hectic schedule of school, because you have Professor Kwon to thank for her excessive meetings about tutorials and assignments. It never occurred to you that you might’ve been imposing when you showed up to Jeongguk’s dorm with your homework, but he’d been studying too. Same wavelength, he’d say.

“Jimin been bothering you lately?”

“No, thank god. Don’t think I could take anymore prodding.”

This is the first time you’ve asked since that afternoon in the quad, though now Jimin’s been less annoying whenever you see him with Jeongguk. You know he’s just itching for your boyfriend to finally get his dick wet. 

And you can’t blame him—that was his intention when he finally got Jeongguk to ask you out. Friendship with Jeongguk was a weird stretch of time, especially when he’d spent the entirety of it silently pining for you: involuntarily single, but so preoccupied with the care and keeping of your GPA you’d been blind to any advance. Not that he tried anything, though. 

He’d been in his second year, still getting used to the enormity of campus grounds as a scholarship-bound athlete. And on top of all his schoolwork he had to balance the fragility of having a crush on an upperclassman well on her way to PhD candidacy. It was a good thing he was cute, though, and Jimin had no qualms about embarrassing Jeongguk any chance he got when you were around. The blush when Jimin had pushed him to your desserts table at one of the indoor Farmers’ Markets still burns in the furthest love-lit corner in your mind.

“You remember when you asked me out?”

“God.” A too-late night in the library that prompted the chivalrous part in Jeongguk because he’d brought you to the bus stop too close for campus police to escort you. You’d been good friends for a while already, the hurdle of skirting around each other knocked down when Jeongguk finally got the guts to insert himself in the your friend circle. In that wet shelter, a quivering lip. The sure that now has you seven-and-a-half months down the line with arguably the best thing that’s happened to you since you started your college career, but you won’t tell him that. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“I don’t know. Just—feels like forever ago.”

“Sappy.”

“Maybe the stars are aligning,” you say.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, just. Sometimes when I lie down with you I feel like I have to—lay myself bare.”

“Then bare yourself.”

You pause. “I’d like to suck your dick.”

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna need you to elaborate,” Jeongguk says like he’s winded.

“Two weeks of me finishing assignments and you at hockey practice. You know. Take advantage of the time we have with each other.”

“Good point. But I have a counter offer.”

Jeongguk is always a giver. “Which is?”

“I eat you out instead.”

“You’re too good to me,” and this is the only response you can come up with without sounding too shocked. Or horny. Not that you’d ever shy away but Jeongguk had a way of burning you up from the inside. “You’re down for that?”

“Always,” he says, then rolls you over. All that muscle from his workouts barring you from even thinking about fighting him back so you let him push you till you’re comfortable. But this isn’t about you. Not at the moment, anyway. 

“Take your shirt off.” Jeongguk does this so quickly his face almost crashes into yours when he comes back down, gasping a laugh that he breathes into you when his mouth meets yours. A quick tangle of your legs around his waist has him lying over you with ease, caught in his cage of pressed-down elbows and intimacy. 

“Wanna—take care of you.” He trails his mouth down your neck, bed squeaking when his knees pad down. Lips tasting lower and now he lifts your shirt up to your chest, pressing wetness to your stomach and you’re quick to discard your clothing if only to see Jeongguk pause at the zipper of your jeans. “Can I—?”

You nod. 

His fingers don’t shake but he’s blinking fast, pulling on the waistline of the rough denim and shucking it past your feet, sighing when your panties come into view. A short-lived reverence when he leans down to mouth at your sex above the thin cotton and your legs spread wide for his arms to cling onto.

“Tell me—tell me what you like,” he says. A shy demand.

“Take my underwear off then I’ll tell you.”

There’s warmth lost when Jeongguk slides your panties down to one ankle but he’s over you in the second it takes for you to flick it off. No pause in his eagerness but now he lies in wait for your instructions. The way he pauses for you is so agonizingly hot you might combust.

“It’s—I like it when… I feel you lick at my…” God you sound fucked. But Jeongguk’s a wild card and takes it in stride, hands once again finding purchase around your thighs and you feel his hard tongue on you, a wet slide that has your stomach caving. It’s the natural twitch in your fingers that prompt you to keep a loose grip in his hair, other hand tight in the bed like your proxy anchor. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah…”

Jeongguk laves your core, pressing harder the higher he goes. Contingency he takes advantage of because you get louder. It’s the lick on your clit that has you sighing. “Oooh, you—use the… tip of your tongue. And lick right—there.”

He’s so pliant you feel like you’re throttling him. There’s a forward insistence of his head until you feel the flat of his tongue pressed fully against you, his neck rolling with every shift of your hips. In control of your pleasure and he makes it feel like this is what he was made to do. His fingers get tight. “You taste good,” he exhales right onto your sex and you nearly crush his head with your thighs.

“Oh my god.” Your breaths are lost. You might hide your face but that would mean losing sight of Jeongguk providing a service only he can spell out with his tongue. “Ah—”

There’s a little squeak further down the bed and you notice the small flutter of his groin caught in the warmth of him and the sheets. His lips close around your nub before you can say anything, slurping that has your gut wrangled, your fingers gripping his hair as you get lost in his love. Your eyes roll back. “Oh fuck, that—agh—”

He’s made you come before. And the familiar tone of your incoming bliss is something he can memorize—he probably already has judging by the train wreck of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you. A swindler of your orgasms but you’d gladly hand yourself over if it meant deceiving your pussy into its own demise.

“Fuck you’re—so sexy like this,” Jeongguk mumbles. You whine at his attention but now you’re running even hotter than ever.

You’re not even telling him what to do anymore but you know he knows it’s good, a message sent with every twitch of your sex into his mouth and now his fingers are splayed along your pelvis to keep you from bucking up. He doesn’t even need his fingers. It’s the hardened tongue, the little slashes on your clit as his head swings back and forth that have you squealing: “Yes, like that. Oh I’m cumming—fuck—!”

Jeongguk hums when you jerk your hips up, convulsions in all your sweetest parts and your throat is dry from all your moaning, the swell of your lungs so hard to keep up with but he always has you losing your breath. Spit collects in its warmth down your ass but it’s a lost thought when Jeongguk lathers you into your come-down, legs like jelly and he helps your knees together when you finally stop trembling. You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you feel his lips on your mouth, complaint of catching a break right behind your teeth when you kiss with what little strength remains in you. 

“That was. Really good,” you whisper. Jeongguk laughs. And he doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with his wet mouth and red cheeks. “Do you wanna cum?”

He looks like he’ll say no. A bitten lip instead of confirmation. “I—”

“Please, I want you to.” Like a switch turned on he lights up, head bobbing and now he’s shoving his jeans past his ass, underwear down too. “You wanna—come on my face?”

His eyes look like they’re leaking out of his face. A strangled noise escapes his throat. He probably thinks you’re on crack but it’s just in his nature for him to assume a dazed auto-pilot whenever you say shit so outlandish. “You—I—I-I—Can—?”

“You can cum—god you can cum anywhere. I’m yours. Remember?” Reaching behind, you feel for the clasp of your bra, flinging it off before you pull on Jeongguk by the dip of his back until his knees straddle your ribs. “Is this good?”

“Can—could you—spit… on it.” His voice dwindles like he’s caught between the threshold of dirty and pushing it. You don’t answer because your neck straining for the tip of his dick and down the rest of his shaft is all he needs for one. Jeongguk bucks into you. “Oh fuck—ngh—ah!”

If his grinding on the mattress was a ticking bomb, your tongue on his cock is the thirty seconds till detonation. And by the sounds of Jeongguk groaning into the mid-afternoon sun slipping through his curtains you know he’s almost there. “Lie down, lie down,” he instructs, hand replacing your mouth in a stroke so quick you’re scared he might get cum in your hair.

“Agh—fuck yeah I’m—”

A spurt of his cum stains your lip, then your cheek. You feel some on the tip of your nose too but Jeongguk points his dick down to your tits, spilling all his hot frustration on your even hotter skin and you might cum again from the visual of him looking so spent. “Wow.”

“Yeah, that—” Jeongguk swallows twice— “I… wow.”

His dick is getting soft. There’s sweat pooling where your body meets the sheets. “Wanna pass me tissues?”

“Oh fuck. Yeah, yeah—here, sorry.” Jeongguk makes soft passes with a wad of cotton over your chest, handing one to you for your face. “Do you—do you like it? When I… cum on you?”

“Yeah.” You think about making a weird comment about sipping on his juice but you’ll save it for later. You focus on not letting his spunk flake on your cheek. “It’s hot. Really.”

“Good,” he says. Flopping down after shooting the soiled tissue into the basket and now he seems exhausted. “Do you feel gross or is it just me.”

“Gross how?”

“Gross like I need a shower.”

You can’t deny him. “Wanna shower?”

“Yep,” he says with no hesitation, and he doesn’t let you say anything else when he grabs you by your wrists. Somehow, everything feels lighter.

Sometimes Jeongguk invites you out to practice. It’s boring and you don’t know a single rule about gameplay, but the presence of him despite being a ways away on the ice is still a comfort on its own. 

The arena is frigidly cold, and while you aren’t without distraction (re: Assignments) it’s still one you can barely get yourself to really focus on. You rub your face in frustration. You hear the sound of the hockey puck passed around in harsh slaps.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Jimin,” you acknowledge. He drops down next to you. “Here to spy on hockey ass too, huh.”

“That and Hoseok promised to get me dinner later.” You raise your eyebrow. “Did one of his assignments.”

“Forgot you were a chemistry genius.” Clicking your tongue, you watch the big 97 of Jeongguk’s jersey as he glides around behind the glass. He waves when he sees you looking. You’d greet him back but your hands are too perfect where they are in the heat of your sweater pockets so you wave your head in what you hope looks like excitement. 

“Been holding up okay?” You turn. Jimin’s eyes are a blaze of concern. “The other week, in the quad. You were pretty stressed.”

“Final paper.”

“Dissertation?”

“Working up to that,” you say.

“So you’re a scholar scholar.”

“Mm.” Your laptop screen blinks to black. “Something like that.” You hear Jimin snicker. He’s coiled up, stomach caved in a tiny laugh, eyes crinkled. Too amused. “What?”

“I’m just—” Jimin takes a breath in to stem his impending laughing fit— “so confused. Like, there’s Jeongguk who can eat eight cups of spicy ramen and literally bomb the bathroom with his shit—and then right next to him is Jane Goodall but with human babies.”

“He loves spicy ramen,” you comment.

“Yeah but do we like his stank? Nope. And you really just compared pronatalism to liking ramen. You know you’re out of his league.”

Jeongguk, completely oblivious to Jimin’s really weird anecdote, brings a fist up in cheers when he shoots the puck into the net. “Well. At the very least he’s cute.”

Jimin heeds with a hum to watch the play on ice. Seeing the team skate around with their broad-shoulders and thick helmets is an odd kind of relaxation. A team of huge men cutting the ice with knives on their feet but the sound is a swish satisfying enough for those kinds of videos that put you to sleep. Rough and gentle, just like Jeongguk. “I’m glad Jeongguk met you,” Jimin starts again.

“Mm. I think he has you to thank.” You boot up your laptop once more in the hopes you get inspired to type, but now Jimin has you distracted even more. 

“He just… used to be so quiet. And I’m gonna brag here but he’s got good friends. But meeting you was a game-changer.”

“Hm.”

“He was so passive.” You think to Jimin almost two years ago, pushing a slightly-smaller Jeongguk towards your table at the market. One look in your eye; pointing to the donut closest to him. Your finger touched his palm when you dropped the chocolate-glazed on it and he looked lost. “But now he’s just. Happy. All the time. It’s nice to see.”

There’s 97 again. Then Jeongguk turns and glides closer to the rail. He holds up ten fingers. Ten till over. You give a thumbs up. You feel yourself shivering but you’re not cold anymore. “Then I’m glad, too.”

“Good kid.” Jimin waves too, and Jeongguk skates off without looking at him. “Bitch! Anyway.” He leans back on his hands, feet perched on the row in front. “You guys… good now?”

And your screen fades to black again. “Oh god.”

“Sorry, fuck. Sometimes I think—no sometimes I don’t think. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, whatever.” You turn to Jimin looking very apologetic, keeping mum with his lips folded in. “It’s—he’s. A lot more eager, I have to say.”

“And are you okay with that?”

You hesitate. “I mean if we’re getting vulgar here—”

“Absolutely not, you are not telling me what he did with his dick.”

You raise your hands in surrender. You wouldn’t have told him anyway. It’s just nice to see a flustered Jimin, especially after what he’s subjected you and Jeongguk to. Good-natured but overtly so, and now you’re both blushing. “It’s been good.” 

Great. Now you’re thinking about Jeongguk and his cock again. Obviously it’s not unwelcome but riling you up is getting too easy.

“Then that’s good,” Jimin says. You hear the blow of the whistle. A congregation of fist bumps forms at the exit of the rink, and Jeongguk lets everyone pass him to get off. “Well I’m gonna go get ready for some free food. See you, yeah?”

He offers a high-five you hit hard. “Bye.”

“Oh. And good luck on your paper. You coming to the game by the way?” Jimin asks. He jumps off the bleachers, leaving you to stare at your honest attempt at getting work done. You close your laptop with a sad click. 

“I have an awards ceremony that day,” you explain. “I’ll try and catch it.”

“Don’t work too hard.” Just then, Jeongguk runs up behind Jimin not at all silently—his gym bag is ginormous—to catch him in a headlock. “Wha—”

“Why are you talking to my girlfriend,” Jeongguk interrogates. He’s probably wet with heat because Jimin scrunches his nose and shoves him off.

“You’re a pig, did you even shower.”

“Smell my armpits and you’ll get your answer.”

“Anyway,” Jimin groans. “I’m off.” He walks to the changing room in a swagger so calculated you’d yell at him for showing off his ass. But Jeongguk drags your attention away when he steps in front of the bleachers, leaning over until you greet him with a kiss.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says against your mouth.

You plug your nose for effect. “So you didn’t shower.”

“I rinsed! Don’t be mean.” He watches as you shove all your things into your bag, his hand poised for you to give it to him, and inside you falter at his generosity but you shoulder the strap and use his outstretched palm to help you up instead. “I wanted your bag, miss.”

“No, you already have a heavy one.”

“Let me carry it for you—” But you shut him up with a tiptoe and a peck to his open mouth. “Don’t distract me!”

You ignore him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the exit. “Let’s go, I might miss my bus.”

Eight p.m. is a dead hour on campus grounds. You see only a handful of straggling students going back to res, even more going into the library building. The lamps guide your every step. Jeongguk’s fingers tangle in yours. “So you aren’t free at all the rest of the week right?”

“Yeah.” You try not to look at him because you know he’s pouting. “I didn’t get any work done thanks to your shouting.”

“That was Yoongi,” Jeongguk defends. “And sorry.”

You reach the bus shelter. “I’m kidding.” The neon sign overhead says your bus is due in three minutes. “I’m—I like going to your practice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like seeing my star hockey player tear it up on the ice,” you joke. Jeongguk laughs into your lips when he bends down lock them with his own. 

“Was it sexy enough for you?”

“Oh yeah. Got my pussy rumbling.”

He balks. “You’re so annoying.”

Two minutes. “It’s starting again.”

“What is?” In the dark light of the evening moon rising, you are reminded of this bus shelter seven months ago. A tower of nerves over you. If you think hard enough, you can still hear the shaky question he’d let dangle from his tongue, the one that has you here with him now. But now Jeongguk is nervous for different reasons. “Oh, like when you disappear on me for like five years.”

You see the light of the bus coming. You wrap Jeongguk in your arms. “Yeah. I’m only free next week.”

“Take it easy,” he says. Only one person gets off at the stop. “Just text me. Don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Last time—a month into your relationship. When you texted him every four days because of your midterms and he’d gotten so worried he genuinely wept when you showed up to his doorstep. It was a good thing you’d brought food too; not that you were expecting a cry fest but he’d felt better once he was filled with fried noodles and your affection. You concede to his request with a nod.

He lets you leave with one last kiss to your forehead. “See you,” you say. The air is alive with what you have to leave behind for the time being.

The week is rough. Professor Kwon asks you to submit marks sooner than you anticipate, so the need to get your paper done becomes a lot more urgent. One student hasn’t even handed in her assignment, which—fine. You don’t have any qualms about the zero you input. But the angry email with the threat to report you to an academic advisor the next day has you so on edge Namjoon agrees to grade half your assignments next time.

Jeongguk, somehow, eludes you too. Graduate school demands more tears than sweat and blood and while he tries his best to comfort you during your work-filled days, he’s been getting busier with hockey practice too. The added thought of starting to study for your exams is just another cake-topper. And it isn’t as if you’re going days without talking to Jeongguk, but it’s still a sting to the romantic part in you that misses him.

A week and a half before your big paper is due is a Tuesday. The girl who dissed you in your email doesn’t show up to tutorial. Everyone is dismissed for the evening. It’s good. 

Nothing beats the giddy jump in your step when you find a cubby in the library close enough to an outlet, though.

Then you get a text from Jeongguk.

[8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m free the rest of the night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me love u bich u really deprived me of touch for an entire week  [8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wya

He meets you at the library with sweaty bangs and indents on his cheek from his helmet. You briefly contemplate jumping him. The feeling is quelled with the reminder that the library doesn’t tolerate loud noises and Excessive Romantic Gestures, so you opt for:

“Sexy.” You’re up on your feet to give him a quick hug and he makes a disgruntled face before dropping a kiss to your mouth.

“You wet yet?”

You glare to hide the need to balk. You plop back down. “You ate pussy once, don’t think this gives you free points to get so cocky.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

“Sit. And don’t—ask me that again.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jeongguk cowers into the seat next to you. “What’s my scholar up to tonight?”

“Researching about Western Europe and their refugee policies.”

He doesn’t look like he’s interested but he makes a contemplative noise. “Very… educated. But anyhow. I’ve been thinking.” Uh oh. “And I have something. It was a week-long thought process but I have it.”

Your pens roll along the wood of the desk. “Have what?”

“A plan.”

“For?”

“For how I’m gonna fuck you. Eventually, I mean.”

“I leave you for a week and this happens,” you answer, but he’s not fazed. You feel yourself melting. Something you learned about Jeongguk during the preliminary stages of your relationship was that he liked getting things right. And if that meant practicing until he was ready—well. There’s a part in you that fears for the livelihood of your vagina. “Babe. That’s—you know we don’t need some sort of… five-steps-to-success thing.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” He pouts like you have it all wrong. Maybe you do, but it doesn’t sound so convincing to your—to be frank—non-virgin ears. “Good practice.” 

You knew he would say that. “You have something in your noggin already, boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna elaborate?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “What do people normally establish before they start having sex?”

“Well I don’t have lice in my pubic hair if that’s what you wanna know,” you offer.

He scrunches his face. “Don’t—joke about that.”

“Sorry.” Jeongguk gives you an incredulous look because you both know you don’t mean it. “But you really wanna do this here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“Wait—really?” 

You’re starting to think you won’t get any work done for the night. Like all the nights you spend with Jeongguk and you realize the pattern now, so you might as well indulge in him. “Yeah, go pull on all your pornographic roots.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m not into getting tied up, first of all.” You flip a page in your textbook to feign nonchalance as Jeongguk wheezes.

“Stop that!” But he just takes a piece of paper and readies a fist to write. “You’re so crude.”

Now you really can’t focus. “Are you seriously going to write about my sexual preferences?”

“No, I’m writing a detailed observation about how to go about. You know.” He purses a lip in thought. “Navigating the ocean of your pussy and its desires.”

You didn’t think the library would be home to both of your sexual awakenings, but Jeongguk makes it hard to be shy when he’s this motivated. “Weird way of asking me if I’m into watersports.”

“Okay you have to take back asking me about my pornographic roots because it sounds like you’re the freakier one.”

“You like me being freaky?” 

He reddens. “Anyway!” (Silently, you revel in your power to tease.) “I was thinking. Since we can’t hang out too much the next week-ish, that we save all the good stuff for later.”

Good point. “Define good stuff.”

Jeongguk gets smaller. Eyes drilled into yours, he whispers, “Putting my penis inside you.”

“Okay now it’s getting weird.”

He drops his pencil in disbelief. “Only now? Tell me how any of this wasn’t weird in the first place.”

“You’re literally the one who took out a pencil to jot down my sexual preferences, don’t act like you’re innocent.” Now he has the decency to look sheepish. He doesn’t say anything. “Jeongguk. It’s fine to be nervous. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this.”

You might as well be talking to the wall but he nods anyway. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! Just… you don’t owe anyone anything.” Something in you longs for him to understand that. You hate to make him nervous but Jeongguk is so adamant you almost want to wrap him in your arms from the sexually-inclined horde that came in the form of Park Jimin. “Remember that.”

He deflates with a sigh. “Then… can you come over tomorrow?” He’s squirming. “I’m done practice at seven.”

“If my advisor’s nice enough she’ll let me off at six,” you confirm.

Jeongguk takes a notebook out but makes no effort to open it. “And. I missed you. Just. Wanted to get that out there.”

There’s only so much texting can do, you get it. The pit of your stomach simmers with affection for the dumb boy sitting next to you, legs jumping the way they do when he’s nervous. “Love you.” And he smiles. Fuel for your listlessness. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. Especially about the one who just propositioned you with absurdities. But now his pencil is out, and the moment is lost. 

You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later. For now, you settle in the quietude of his presence with yours.

It’s a colder day today.

“Hi!” Taehyung opens the door, bouncing in his pyjamas from the rush of freezing air. “Come, come. Please don’t ask me how I’ve been, I’m so tired of school and that’ll be my answer and I don’t want to talk about it.”

You swallow your pleasantries down. He’s a stressed Neuroscience major. “Fair,” you greet instead, toeing your boots off.

“Coming from somewhere?”

“Tutorial evaluation,” you say. Taehyung lets out a low whistle, closes the door behind you. He knows your shoulders are stiff because of Professor Kwon’s watchful gaze. Sitting at the back, ramrod straight with that black clipboard, taking down notes on your performance as a first-time TA. 

She’d let you go after with a smile, though. Let you know you did fine. You’d practically glided to residence when she’d given you the go to leave for the day. 

“I have a question for you,” Taehyung says. He sits on the couch, watches as you take off your snow-soiled scarf and jacket. “Has Jeongguk been more… fidgety lately?”

So he’s noticed too. “Yeah, I’ve—seen it. Why?”

“I don’t know, he sort of just—” Taehyung scoots over when you plop down next to him— “he came out of the room yesterday squealing, then ran around the living room for a bit then just. Went back into his room.”

Oh. So that’s what he was off to do when said he needed to get something after you linked him to your favourite porn accounts on Twitter.

“Maybe it’s just. I don’t know, pre-game jitters,” you lie. Taehyung’s giving you the look. Like he’s not satisfied with your answer and the only way to sate him is if you let him do one thing. “You can ask.”

“Did you fuck him yet?”

No reservations. As expected, because he’s just as nosy as Jimin and the rest of their friends annoyingly concerned with Jeongguk’s hesitation in the bedroom. “Nope.”

“Okay but like—can you fuck him already? I’m gonna be rolling in my grave by the time his penis passes the two-inch border of your personal space.”

You can’t keep in your snort. “Oh my god.”

“Just. We really don’t mean to be so standoffish but he just likes you so much it’s insane. Like I’ll see his phone light up and he will too. He’ll literally—he just glows. It’s kind of creepy actually but like. Cute creepy.”

The rush of praise runs through you. You don’t like to brag, but you really did snag the campus boy crush. You were popular enough with academia, but after the first time Jeongguk posted a picture of you two at the Christmas market, though—the entire student body went ballistic. It was the nascence of a fairy tale; movie romance budding in the grey concrete of campus grounds. 

No one saw it coming. And knowing that the one everyone has their eye on has its eyes on you—it’s a good kind of blow.

“He’s my baby,” you say, and Taehyung coos. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.”

There’s a rattling of the door knob. The sight of a ragged Jeongguk stumbles in, gym bag dropped on the floor and he disappears down the hall with the call for a shower and a brief smile your way. “I’ll be five minutes, babe.”

That’s Taehyung’s cue. “Well—I’m off to study group. Take care of him, yeah?”

“You know it.” You offer a fist bump. Taehyung’s knuckles are bony on yours. 

The trek to Jeongguk’s room isn’t unfamiliar. You bounce back on his bed, willing yourself not to close your eyes because you know you’ll just crash. A headache prepares right behind your temple, as imminent as rumbling thunder. Something in you calls for Jeongguk to hurry the fuck up before you succumb to Stress and those horrible, horrible thoughts of due dates.

It doesn’t take that long. There’s the squeak of the shower handle turning off and the black of your closed eyes, the scurrying of an unseen body; the lifting of your shirt for a very heavy weight of a hockey player blowing raspberries into the skin of your stomach. Jeongguk chortles when you nearly break your back trying to dislodge him. “You’re—oh my god—hey stop!”

“Hi,” he says, laugh caught in his breath, “I’m clean.”

“I see that.” He’s in his pyjamas. You let him settle on your side. The lingering heat from his shower makes you clammy but you let him hold you tight. “How was practice?”

“It was nice.” This is code for: I wasn’t yelled at by Yoongi. “I’m excited for our game, I’m feelin’ good. Did you find out if you could make it?”

You were blessed by the gods, because not only were your days coinciding, they were also starting an hour within each other. You’d be at the podium with a flowery speech while Jeongguk tears the ice rink with his pretty skates. And if every award recipient’s was longer than a minute then you might miss the entire game. Two hours past Jeongguk most likely scoring the winning goal; an infinity lost to see your star in action. 

(And seeing Jeongguk play is really attractive.)

You settle with: “I’ll try my best.”

“Okay,” he says. The crown of his head digs into your neck. You feel his lips when he speaks. “How are you holding up?”

“Barely.”

“Did you get your paper done?”

“Barely.”

“So it’s done.”

“Let’s not talk about school,” you dismiss. He leaves the conversation to wither with a suction to your skin. Wet where he lines your neck with quick kisses and you soften into the sheets. “Is this your way of—executing your plan.”

“Hm?”

“You know—your—guide to putting your penis inside me.”

He leans up on his elbow. Unimpressed because his eyebrows are scrunched. “Funny.”

“You love me.”

“And what about it?” His eyes shine the way they do before he tells you he loves you too. “It isn’t even a plan it’s just—a buildup. To when my penis goes inside you. Like a countdown but with orgasms instead.” You snicker. He drags a light hand down your front, settling his palm right over your pussy. “Let me touch you.”

You forget how to breathe for a second. “Yeah—I’m—yeah. Please.”

“Sit up.” Jeongguk plants himself near the wall, not unlike the position he was in when you sucked his dick for the first time. Instead of the afternoon heat, you’re caught under the dying evening rays of sunset: not as hot but still you feel the spark in your belly when Jeongguk lifts your bum to settle you between his legs. His nails play with the button of your pants. “I wanna try something.”

“Sure.” And he helps you wiggle off your clothes, bottom bare to his graces. Doesn’t say anything, just lets his mouth meet yours slowly, tasting the day off your tongue, your worries behind his teeth. 

“Anyone ever fingered you so hard you cried?”

“You wanna make me cry?”

“Don’t say it like that.” Jeongguk nips at your lip. “But yeah, I guess.”

You’re wet. This is a fact you come to realize when you feel him spread your legs, feet planting in the mattress in an attempt to ground yourself.  “Okay,” you agree.

His mouth’s busy with yours, lips unyielding like he could do this all day. It’s almost picturesque, the way he has you: head turned over to meet him in his love, arms wrapped around your own. Yours for him to savour and he always tastes good.

He doesn’t wait anymore. Your clit throbs with the passes of his fingers, head falling back to rest on Jeongguk’s shoulder when he dips in the pool of your heat and drags it back up. Groaning when he spins tight circles like you taught him and your hands find his thighs. “Feels—good,” you utter. Already you’re gone but Jeongguk feeds into your pleasure with no qualms for your embarrassment.

“Can I—put in a finger?” He asks shyly, but playing with your slick like he’s known how to make you putty in his hands this whole time.

“Yeah. Please.” You welcome the insistence in your sex with the buck of your hips. Jeongguk curls his middle finger up, the heel of his hand smooth on your clit and you sigh, “Ooh, fuck yeah.”

He kisses your cheek. “Another one?”

“I can take it,” you say, and he has another finger in you, hooking into your nerves. You might moan but Jeongguk turns your head and molds his mouth into yours, stealing your breath with his tongue. He curves in a little too hard and you squeal. “Oh my god, too—much.”

“Sorry.” He adjusts, fingers straight again. “M’gonna go faster, if that’s okay.” You nod, restless, and then he adds: “And you can’t look away from me.”

“Yes please—”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, because the hand not fucking you into oblivion catches your cheeks, locking you to Jeongguk’s gaze. It’s a fucked out one too, and now you notice his hard dick pressed up against your back. 

It’s a storm of thrusting: wet and more wet and now he abruptly pulls out, smears your slick on your clit in a rub so fast you would squeal louder if it weren’t for his lips swallowing your sounds. 

“Oh-h—!”

You burn. Jeongguk enters you again and your cunt feels swollen. Fucking all the deepest and dirtiest parts of you and you take it, yielding to the draw on your tight walls. The squelch gets louder. So do you. 

“Oh yeah—” And you don’t cry but the feeling of him inside is so overwhelming and all that you need and it’s there— “Fuck, y-eah. Gonna cum soon—”

“Give it to me.” Punctuated with a twist in your sex so rough you would have twitched him off but his legs cage you. Jeongguk smiles. “Come on babe—”

“Nnn—ha J-Jeongguk—” You grab his wrist, the one knocking his fingers so good though he doesn’t stop under the tight hold— “B-Baby—”

“I want it, I want it,” he chants into your mouth, like he’s eager for a release conducive to your early death just so he can say he did that. Awful cocky but you can’t dwell on it. “Just cum for me.”

“Fuck—” He makes you look at him when you do, eyes wide to his imploring ones. He has it in his fingers, a climax that wrangles the most obscene noises from your throat. Your hips grind up uncontrollably, clit a pulsing pain but his thumb rubs it all the same. Jeongguk doesn’t stop till you whine, “God, please—I can’t."

“You’re crying.”

“Am not.” But you feel the sting of heat in your eyes. Jeongguk rubs his nose with yours, wrapped in his arms and affection.

“Was it good though?”

“Was it good, he says.” You kiss him with no bite. “Loved it. Best ever.”

Jeongguk lights up, corners of his mouth lifted into a sated grin. “Woo,” he says. You’re about to ask if he wants one rubbed out but he continues speaking. “So plan’s going well if you wanted to know.”

“Shut up. Shut up!” You make a point of getting up with as much force as possible, disturbing the coils the mattress as Jeongguk laughs. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me.”

Your panties are sticky against you. You turn to see him staring at you already. “I love you.”

The room glows in the last few minutes of red, coated darker and darker. But the look Jeongguk gives you—maybe astonishment, maybe longing—casts a glow that blazes within. Like all he wants is for you to be here and you do too. He breaks the silence with a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You climb back over him, unable to resist anymore. “So I’ve been told.”

“I mean it though.” He shifts so you’re lying down again, head on his chest. Warm again. “Sorry if I’m—pushing the agenda. And I know I say Jimin’s not getting to me and it’s true but it—makes me want you. All the time.”

You settle for the truth with a kiss to his sternum. “I have no free time after today though.” 

“That’s okay,” Jeongguk whispers. “Just love me now and you can always love me later.”

“I can do that,” you say. 

He lets you dig into his side even further. “Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about school?”

“Mm.” You know it’ll help to air your dirty laundry. But knowing Jeongguk has his own shit to deal with is enough for you to hesitate. “Nothing I—haven’t said before. Just stressed.”

“About your last assignment?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re smart. And for whatever reason, really into baby-making in foreign countries.” Jeongguk groans when you pinch him. “But I know you. And you’ll do well. Also it’s official that you’ll do well because you’re dating someone really good at what they do, and I was just inside your body so technically my energy transferred to you.”

“Very solid process.” 

His breathes warmth into your skin. “Believe me. You’re gonna be fine.”

And it’s not the end of the world, not being able to see him for a bit. You both know this. You hug him tighter to you regardless, like making his skin stick to yours was an actuality. You know he feels it too when his arm locks just a tiny bit harder. An unspoken longing for the mold of your body.

You’ll get there.

It’s been four days since you’ve seen Jeongguk, so Namjoon takes the responsibility of keeping you sane. He books a study room for three hours and meets you with a two cups of coffee and three extra pens just in case they run out while you mark your assignments together. He takes the stack of papers from you with a frown, and you work.

The paper is coming along well. You think you have a good five pages to go, but the amount of hounding Professor Kwon has done is scaring you into another late night-in. More and more marks are due, and Namjoon has his own work to deal with. You hate to burden him with your own but now you’re really feeling the Stress from school.

[6:01 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey what are you doing [6:02 PM] You: i’m doing work :(( [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Poo poo [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m bored [6:03 PM] You: 💩💩 [6:03 PM] You: sorry bout it !!!!!!! [6:04 PM] You: wait how can u be bored ur @ practice ?? if ur just…. doin practice [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On break [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: And I miss you [6:06 PM] You: omg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [6:06 PM] You: my heart

Namjoon’s eyebrows are scrunched. “I can’t tell what this student is saying.”

“Read it out loud.” 

“I will argue that the legalization of crack cocaine will act as a beneficial potential towards the bettering of society. With the advent of legal marijuana usage in Canada—yeah.”

“That’s… an abuse of thesaurus privileges,” you comment.

He hums. “They’re young, let them live.”

Again, Jeongguk texts you.

[6:09 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When are you free [6:10 PM] You: tonight [6:10 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m not 😩😩 What about Wednesday? [6:11 PM] You: i’m only free rn baby :( might have to wait till after friday [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Damn [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I need to go now text me when you’re done k?????? Love you [6:13 PM] You: okay ! 💜

You hear Namjoon snapping at you. “You’re getting distracted.”

“Sorry.” Your pen twitches in your grip. This is your third cup of coffee. “Just—need a goddamn break.

You can sense Namjoon’s nerves grating too. “I get it.” He looks at his watch. “Well. We need to leave in five minutes.”

You graded almost all of your half of assignments. You let yourself breathe a sigh of accomplishment, clearing your work into your bag. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Buy me lunch someday and we’ll call it even,” Namjoon says. He swipes the papers your way to collect. “And by the way—” he takes one last sip of his coffee— “I caught wind that one of the Commissioner-Generals is coming to the ceremony.”

You stare. “From which agency?” 

“No clue. But I just thought you should know.”

Of course he would. The one time you don’t clear your search history and now Namjoon is up your ass helping you find any potential global PhD programs. And it wasn’t unimaginable either, some higher-up coming to see the semester-end awards the department heads organized, and the student chair had a lot of say in it, current one being Kim Namjoon: a lobbyist, a smart guy, and Twitter-sort-of-famous for being really damn loud about inequality.

But they’re probably not recruiting me, you think. Best not to get your hopes up lest it go to a well-deserved head who apparently doesn’t get distracted by the potential of finally squeezing their boyfriend’s dick. 

Namjoon sighs. “Hey, isn’t the ceremony the same day as the game?”

“Yep,” you confirm. For a split second, an image of Jeongguk giggling pops up into your head.

“Do you think you’ll make it?”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, standing outside the door until Namjoon turns off all the lights. “I’m gonna try.”

The hallway to the main entrance of the Humanities wing is quiet. “Speaking of the game. Any intel about your current… predicament?”

“Jimin?”

“Jimin.”

“About Jeongguk?”

“About Jeongguk.”

“Fuck,” you murmur. And you thought he’d be kind enough to keep your secret, but Namjoon is to Jimin like a big is to a little except they’re both too posh to be in a frat. “Not really. And stay out of it.”

“I will,” he says. He opens the door, winter wind as brutal as ever. You think about Jeongguk walking you to the bus stop but he’s probably already back at his dorm. You shiver. “But if I catch you distracted on your phone again I might have to ask.”

You cower into embarrassment.“Sorry.” 

Namjoon waves you off. “Just get home safe, yeah?”

Getting home isn’t that bad; late enough for the absence of the rush hour crowd and you get to sit on the bus the rest of the ride. You all but book it to your place to escape the frost nipping at your cheeks and into the nest of your textbooks. Plans to demolish at least a tiny bit of your not-so-tiny pile of work come to a stand-still when you hear your phone vibrate.

[7:46 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey did u finish yet [7:46 PM] You: fuck sorry forgot to text [7:46 PM] You: yeah i did, i just got home [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: That’s good [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Do you have a lot of work to do tonight?? [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please say no [7:48 PM] You: ….. [7:48 PM] You: why [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The plan [7:50 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Still building [7:50 PM] You: should i be scared [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I know you wouldn’t like it if I didn’t ask, and I’m a good boy, so [7:52 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can I send you a picture of my dick?

A boot hangs limply from your toes from when you were trying to tug it off. Dumbly, you’re gaping. Gaping at this transition from shy Jeongguk to… whatever the fuck this was. The pulsing of your sex betrays your shock.

It’s not like things were changing fast, either. That moment in his bed—after he fucked you with his fingers—was the last time you’d been together. A solid evening of knotted arms and Jeongguk’s breath down your neck. He’d only let you go because your complaints to do homework got too loud for him to sleep properly, and you left him in his room like that: heavy-eyed and full of low murmurs for you to come back.

“You’ll miss me, right?” He’d asked. It sounded so innocent. Looked like it too when he stood next to you as you slipped on your shoes. The answer was easy.

“Duh.”

And it wasn’t like you weren’t affectionate. Sure, gaining the impulse to hug and squeeze him was one you had to work up to, but this came with new relationships, that novelty of being someone else’s: one that Jeongguk had no problems getting used to. Took you a little longer to warm up to his kisses in public but you’re here now. Here, slack-jawed at this distant intimacy. Feet mired in your shock, on the carpet of your front door.

You don’t remember feeling this desperate for Jeongguk before. 

[7:54 PM] You: i [7:54 PM] You: definitely wouldn’t be opposed

You lock your screen fast. Fling your shoes off, slap your jacket onto a hanger. You nearly bust your bedroom down in your hurry to get the fuck on the bed, like the rush of a late night with a stranger but Jeongguk is wholly familiar and isn’t even here to touch you. The ding of your phone is enough to keep you on your toes. You don’t swipe yet because already you’re sweating.

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo and 2 Messages

Should you take your clothes off? Or is he supposed to ask you to do that? Should you ask? What the fuck. This was too much.

You open it. It takes one second to download.

That’s his dick. Jeongguk’s dick, flash on, held up by the tips of his fingers at the base like he knows his angles. The tip is flushed with a wetness you’d lick right up if you were there just to feel the way he shivers under you.

[7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby I’m so hard [7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna kiss you all over

You squeal. 

This was your boyfriend, mister-campus-hotboy, the one literally everyone got hard over and now he’s sending you his own personal dick pics. Maybe you do need to thank the high heavens one day because

What

The

Fuck is going on.

No matter. 

[7:57PM] You: i want u to [7:57PM] You: want u on top of me [7:57PM] You: with ur lips on my neck [7:58PM] You: getting me wet. u always make me. wet

You can’t wait anymore. Your shirt is off, bra tossed, back bare on your sheets. You shimmy out of your pants just as Jeongguk texts back.

[7:58PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fcurck baby [7:59PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can’t stop thinnking abt u [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The way u sounded [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When I was e ating u out [8:01PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: u tasted so good on m y tonguel fucckkkk [8:01PM] You: are u jacking off rn ??? [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yess [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Touch urself [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please?

Panties come off. It’s not a surprise when your finger is soaked in your arousal, teasing your clit and you sigh.

[8:02PM] You: fuck im so wet [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yeah??? [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: What r u thinkgnin about [8:03PM] You: your mouth [8:04PM] You: on my tits [8:04PM] You: my cunt [8:04PM] You: u got me off sooo good [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fuucckckk baby [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re so hot ho ly shit [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Want u so bad [8:06PM] You: how??? [8:06PM] You: u already treat me so good [8:06PM] You: maybe i’’ll take care of u now hm? ?? [8:07PM] You: mymouth on ur dick [8:07PM] You: taste so good [8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Shit

Everything was jumping out of your head so quick your one hand couldn’t keep up. The two fingers on your pussy dipped again, jolts of sweetness straight through your nerves when you rub yourself faster. Focusing on his texts was as easy as trying to stave your orgasm off, which… really wasn’t going too well, pelvis meeting the palm of your hand in a desperate kick.

[8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Take your clothes off [8:09PM] You: past that

It takes him a minute.

[8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Could you send a pic [8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Pleas e

Oh. Okay.

You lean up on your elbow, push your chest against your bicep in the hopes that your cleavage could somewhat be evocative enough in the weak light of your phone. (You notice you forgot to turn the lights on.) The picture cuts off right above your nipples, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t do that just for the possibility of a desperate plea. You lie back down.

Sent.

[8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: urruhguhgkehrdhfg [8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby pleease I want more [8:14PM] You: of what ??? [8:14PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: FUck [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I want you [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On top of me [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Grnding yuor pretty pussy on my dick [8:16PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re wet ik ur wet

Of course he would. He knows your body better than ever before, and you might tease him but the throbbing you’re attending to is too much of a distraction.

[8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can you imagine that [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Teasig my cock into you [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I won’t putnit in yet [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Bc I want u squirming o n top of me [8:18PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ik u don’t beg [8:19PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I would ask u anyway if u want me to sink u down on my cock

Oh my god. The soft sucking sound of your fingers inside your cunt isn’t enough to drag you out of this reverie. It just sinks you deeper into this bliss Jeongguk spells out for you so well. He has you like putty. Your knuckles curve you into a hopeless whimper.

[8:20PM] You: i want that [8:20PM] You: iwa nt that so bad pleas [8:21PM] You: let me feel your dick inside [8:21PM] You: u want that so bad baby [8:21PM] You: to feel me squeezing around u [8:21PM] You: im so tight and wwt [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna hear u  [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ft [8:22PM] You: just call

You don’t think you could handle seeing his dick now. Especially when the build in your pussy is this close to tipping you into a climax he probably wants to hear.

Your phone blares in the quiet. “Baby—”

“I’m so close,” Jeongguk says. He sounds like he’s panting. “Tell me you are too. Please—!” He cuts himself off with a gasp.

“Y-Yeah.” You burn in his desperation, curling into your cunt in the spot you know would have you keeling over. “Ngh—!”

“I wanna hear you. Wanna—hear you when I fuck you. So—good.”

“Oh fuck—”

“You want that too baby?”

You heave. “Yes!”

“Let me hear you cum. Please. I’m so fucking close—”

“Jeongguk!” You sputter, moaning loud, crying in the extremity. It zips through your core, has you reeling, legs shaking as you rub it out so hard you arch from your bed. You barely register Jeongguk’s own completion.

“Fuck I’m cumming—shit!” He groans, long, noisy on the line but the image of his cum onto his hands has your stomach clenching. Clobbered by his own doing and it’s almost endearing how fucked out he sounds. There’s a moment where you hear fumbling, a distant breath; shifts in the mattress probably. “Baby…”

Your phone lights up again. 

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo

You don’t hesitate this time. 

His dick is wet, probably with his spit, but now his entire first is closed around it, dregs of his cum pooling in the suction of his palm against the pink skin. The urge to put your mouth on him is so over-whelming you groan in frustration.

“Want it in my mouth,” you say.

“You’ll make me hard again,” Jeongguk murmurs with a laugh.

It’s just past 8:30. “So. What got you so hard that had you begging for me over the phone?”

“Hm.” You move until you’re under the covers. A makeshift warmth because you don’t have Jeongguk to cuddle you for post-sex softness. “I don’t know. Just missed you. Again. Sorry if you had work to do.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah I’m not.” You think you hear him in the washroom. The vent is loud. “Made a mess.”

“Not my fault.”

“Uh, it kinda was. Hoping for more nipple next time.”

“Now you’re asking for too much,” you sigh. There’s a sleepy pull in your head, dragging you through the waves of feelings that currently bombard your heart. “I miss you too. Hope you’re not working too hard.”

“I have a bruise on my ass! Oh my god I forgot to tell you. But Hoseok checked me so hard for no fucking reason and—boom. Landed right on my booty.”

You coo. “Aw. Want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes please, it’s on my fatter butt-cheek I think.”

It dies down again. “So what stage are we at for your build-up?”

“Close to the finale.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. There’s only three days left till your prospective hells come to a head. Then it’s back to loving Jeongguk but closer to him this time, not through the cracked screen of your phone. “Can’t wait.”

“Me too,” Jeongguk says. “Guess—I should leave you to your work?”

As much as you want to say no, the pile of essays on your desk is calling for your ass to get moving. It sends a quick ripple of nervous tension down your spine but the sooner you get it done the sooner it is to texting Jeongguk again. You know he’s impatient too. “Yeah. Might stay up.”

“Not too late, okay? You’re almost there. And make that tea I bought you, it’s supposed to help with your headaches.”

You’ll cry. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Text me when you’re gonna sleep.”

You’re probably ovulating because a tear really does slip over your cheek. The stickiness between your thighs rubs your skin when you finally get up, avoiding the offensive stack of work in your periphery when the hints of a new headache start to come up. 

Jeongguk probably knew you were heading straight into another painful night of working. There’s a tin of loose leaf tea sitting patiently for you in your cupboard. And maybe taking on the teaching position wasn’t such a good idea, but then again, dates where everything loomed over you were inevitable. School’s a bitch. But you have an attractive boy waiting for you to finish, and that’s what prompts you to face the music. One more time.

Three more nights. 

The first night is actually okay. You get a page and half done, and Namjoon checks in with a text in the evening to make sure you aren’t pulling your teeth out. Jeongguk has practice the whole day. 

During the second night, you forget to save one of the articles you cited, and you spend a frantic hour searching through all your sources to trace it back. It’s a painful process and you almost cry, but you text Jeongguk and he sends you a selfie of him sending you a thumbs up. Your phone lags trying to scroll through the gigantic box of of hearts he texts you. You find the article. It’s good.

Third night and you’re about ready to give up. Jeongguk and Namjoon are both out of commission because apparently the universe hates all of you and you’re all busy with your respective work. But you have a page to conquer, and the onus is on you to show up with nice skin tomorrow because the department likes to take pictures to post online. The tea Jeongguk got you steams as you type diligently.

One

More

Word

Andit’sdone.

“Oh god,” you whisper to yourself. You scroll through your paper, making sure all your citations are right. Page numbers there. No excessive use of the first-person, your professor’s name spelt correctly. Formatted correctly.

It’s done.

You bask in the harsh light of your desk lamp, weight lifted off your shoulders the instant you save your document to submit online.

The assignment page loads, and you hit the button.

The line of your phone rings twice.

“Hello?” Jeongguk groans. It’s three in the morning. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“I FINISHED I SUBMITTED IT IT’S IN!” You yell. A genuine rise in your throat that has Jeongguk whooping with as much energy as his sleep-ridden voice can allow on the other side of the line.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I wanna hop on your dick right now.”

Jeongguk just snickers. Your eyebrows raise, because for sure he would’ve been choking. But maybe it’s because he’s tired. “Don’t tempt me into a boner, it’s too early for this.”

“Fuck—sorry. You have your game. Okay I’ll hang up. I’m gonna—sleep. Try to. Okay I love you! Sorry bye!”

“Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You knock out the second your light is off and your head hits the pillow.

You asked Namjoon earlier in the day to call you awake because your ringtone is more annoying than your alarm. And even though the ceremony is later in the evening, you’re scared that you’ll sleep the entire day away. 

Jeongguk texts you before you’re up. A congratulatory message, and another saying that he’ll be at practice the whole day so he’ll try to text you at lunch. But the afternoon sun sees no text from him and you know it’s because he’s sweating his balls off on the hockey rink. Stubborn like you know he is but now you miss him again. 

One thing that sticks in your head the rest of the day: the thought of it being over. Because once you get your awards and hopefully get to see the end of the game, you get Jeongguk to yourself again. Two weeks of agonizing to get to this point all but crashes into your loins to spark a frighteningly hot fire, and now, once again, you’re left to fantasize about Jeongguk’s dick. You force yourself not to dwell on it too much, makeup a risk to your fidgeting and if the reason why you have an ugly picture up online is because you were longing for dick then—well. 

It’s Namjoon who greets you when you get to the conference hall downtown.

“You look good,” is all he says. 

You stick your tongue out at him. You had to redo your lipstick twice. “Shut up.”

He leads you to where he was sitting: the massive table stuck in the middle with the microphones sticking up along the perimeter. Maplewood and entirely unfitting for the green carpet, though Namjoon beats you before you can say anything mean. “If you look up front, that’s the Commissioner-General I was talking about.”

You look. She’s a petite woman, scarily thin, wearing a bright scarf. “Yoon Soomin,” you recognize.

“Correct.”

“Namjoon!” You hit his shoulder, and he winces with a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Because I knew you’d get stressed!”

Well he’s goddamn right you’re stressed now. Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of one of the programs you had your eyes on for the past year now. Applications are open next week. You’ve had yours done for a solid six months, and now the head of the program is right here. In the flesh. Watching you about to get your award.

The chatter of all the other students is drowned out when the program head gets up for the commencement speech. “Good evening everyone. My name is Bae Joohyun. Thank you—”

Ding.

Namjoon kicks your shin. You silence your phone. It’s Jeongguk.

[7:39PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hi babe hope u had a good day!!! Sorry I got distracted [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I know ur gna win like fifty awards so advanced congrats!!!!!!! Proud of ur big brain [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Love you [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I hope you make it later pls try ur hardest but if u can’t it’s okay but like I would really appreciate if you. Came [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: OJO [7:42PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Heh Taehyung said that looks like me 

There’s clapping. You don’t know why everyone’s clapping but you do it too.

[7:42PM] You: pls don’t break any limbs while i am here i won’t be fast enough [7:42PM] You: love u. play smart not hard. i’ll be there for ur final goal 🤪 [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Anything for my scholar [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You r so cute please come soon [7:44PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I have to go now I LOVE You

“I will now invite the Student Chair Kim Namjoon forward to deliver a speech,” Professor Bae says.

No last text to Jeongguk because now you join the applause once more. Namjoon gets up with practiced ease, staggered steps of confidence because if anyone is going to get a PhD first, it’s him. And you know he applied for the program too.

It starts simple: “Thank you for coming today.” A celebratory gathering, gratitude for everyone’s hard work and commitment. A call for everyone to continue being ambassadors for the Humanities. Nothing you haven’t heard before. 

“I would also like to announce that the department has decided to award a special recipient tonight for their academic work and contribution to graduate research,” Namjoon continues. “The award will be presented by Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of the Anthropology for the Humanities Global Network. Please give your warmest applause to Doctor Yoon.”

Oh god. Your literal idol because she was just as interested in babies as you were and Jeongguk would for sure be goading you into a frenzy because of your shaking. But you clap as normally as normal clapping goes, and Doctor Yoon takes the mic.

“I’ll just head straight into it,” she says with a pretty smile. You catch Namjoon looking at you. He raises an amused eyebrow, and now you’re suspicious. “It is an honour to call upon ___, for their recent submission of pronatalist work based in Europe for the research study funded by the Global Network.” That’s—you. That’s you, and these are your legs moving on their own accord to the beat of the eager applause. You don’t look at Namjoon but you can hear him, because he’s clapping the loudest. “___ has been recognized before: for an outstanding submission in undergraduate research on cultural genocide, as well as active participation in the Anthropological department.”

Yoon Soomin extends a hand to you, as well as a pretty certificate gilded with bold letters in the form of your name. Again: all offered by Yoon Soomin. Again, you are shaking. 

“T—hank you,” you stammer, and her hand is soft in yours and you really just might cry but it’s probably because you’re exhausted. You’d slept for a solid ten hours but no amount of rest would have ever prepared you for her pretty voice congratulating you again. “I—It’s an honour.”

“Picture time,” Namjoon interrupts. He’s got his phone up. “Smile!”

“Congratulations again,” Doctor Yoon says. She grins like she knows something too, and the rest of the ceremony is static in your ears.

Like always, it’s repetition. A name called, award presented. Your name is exhausted three more times, and you’d cower under the attention but you worked too goddamn hard not get to this point. You think of Jeongguk, probably three to none even though it’s only been half an hour into the game. You and Namjoon are practically trembling when Professor Bae dismisses everyone.

Your jacket is on, purse about to swing over your shoulder when someone comes up to you.

“Hello.” Doctor Yoon again. “Oh—are you in a hurry?”

“Not at all,” you rush out. You can feel Namjoon vibrating too. “I—Thank you so much for presenting the award.”

“It was my pleasure. The overseas program application opens next week,” she advises, and you really might scream but you will yourself to stillness. “We don’t know where it’s based yet, but I hope that doesn’t discourage you from submitting your application.”

“Oh she’s been interested for years,” Namjoon offers. You elbow him. Doctor Yoon laughs. 

“I’m glad to hear that. Keep up the good work!”

You all but skirt around her with a quick thank you again! and make a mad dash out the building and to the underground train because Namjoon sucks and can’t drive on highways yet. “Good thing you didn’t wear heels because you’re so fucking slow.”

“Shut up,” you growl. The people on the sidewalk offer no space for you to slither through, and you grind you teeth with impatience. “And don’t give me shit when I beat you four to one.”

“Not everyone’s into babies like you are, genius.” You reach the closest subway entrance, a seedy staircase down into the dirty cement and your fare is paid with a drop of a coin; running for the departing train and you make it by the wisp of your hair. You sigh into an empty seat, Namjoon right next to you. “Time.”

It’s nearing 9:00. “Oh my god it’s almost done.”

“You’ll make it,” Namjoon says. The jostling ride is another twenty minutes, and you know it’s cutting it short but you promised Jeongguk. He’s so close. You’re out of breath. “So you’re free now, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You worked hard.”

You scrunch your face in embarrassment. “Thanks Joonie.”

“I mean it,” he says. “No one deserves this more than you. Yeah? Cut yourself some slack.”

“I know—it’s just—I couldn’t be there for Jeongguk as much as I could have—” And it’s all coming out now. There’s only one other person on this cart other than Namjoon so you let yourself have the moment, the breakdown. The awfulness of preoccupation and missing your boyfriend and too much work. You don’t want to cry but the screech of the metal tracks makes it easier to hide. “‘M so fucking tired.”

Namjoon pats your back when you heave. “Two more stops. Then you can curse the gods all you want.”

Good incentive, because once the doors slide open on your stop you book it up the escalator as fast as your fatigue can allow. Luckily campus is right around the corner, cars taking up all the space on the road. Probably all here for the final match of the year, your university against the one a city over, and the cheers are so loud you hear it from the two sidewalks over. “Let’s go let’s go!”

And you and Namjoon run again, down to the set of doors of the arena nestled into the corner of your school. The doors are heavyset but you yank them like you’ll die if you aren’t inside within the next twenty seconds, and it’s only now that you feel the buzz of your phone from a text.

[8:58 PM] Jimin Bimin: I’m on the east side with taehyung, third from the bottom bleacher, mostly in the middle. hurry!!!!!!

Namjoon’s no doubt just following the beeline you make because even you can’t feel where your legs are taking you. All you know is the rush of school pride and the deafening yells of the crowd, lost bits of popcorn on the floor scrunching against your shoes as you search for Jimin. You see Taehyung first: warpaint on his face and he waves you over quickly, scooting over with a pull on Jimin to make room for Namjoon too.

“You made it!” Jimin screams and it still sounds like a squeak with the roar of the people everywhere.

But you ignore this, laser-beaming the rink for that familiar 97. You catch Jeongguk closely following the puck, stick clenched tightly in his fists, legs quick in their glide as the offence. You feel everyone’s bated breath, hands grabbing Jimin’s arm—the other team’s members flying past Jeongguk, the raise of the wood, a slap to the puck—

The red blares. The crowd goes wild. 

“HE WON!” Jimin screams and so do you, the wave of excitement passing over you like fairy dust and now everyone’s cheering. You have no idea what went on. But now all the boys off the rink jump over the barrier to grab Jeongguk in a hard throttle, arms tangled around each other, chant lost on your ears but they look so happy. 

Somehow, a body breaks away from the huddle, and now they’re skating in your direction. 

Jeongguk waves. You smile. A wave back, and now you have each other again.

You wait outside the building, watching as the throngs disperse. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin already said their goodbyes, last felicitations from them both and a promise for lunch from you somehow gets squeezed from the conversation too. The brick is hard against your back.

[9:30PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: WHERE ARE YOU [9:30PM] You: i’m outside already!!

A door bursts open. There’s an inhale, then you turn your head. Jeongguk drops his bag the second you charge for him, arms ready for your attack as you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, arms caught on his neck. You think you hear someone gasp but it’s all lost on you now. “Oh my god I love you,” he breathes, and you cry. “Babe—”

“I watched you,” you sniffle, and you frown when he laughs. “Watched you win.”

“I’m glad.”

You kiss him. “Missed you.”

Jeongguk looks like he might cry too. “Mine again?”

“Yours again.” And you mean it. 

“I would—I would invite you over to the after-party but I’m sleepy,” he says in between presses of his mouth, “and I ran out of contact solution the other day so I can’t invite you over and also Taehyung’s probably sleeping right now.”

“Then you come over.” You melt into his tongue, his feet staggering in your grind and he bites your lip.

“R-Really?” 

“Yeah, actually get some shut-eye.” He lets you off when you wriggle your ass against his hands, dragging him to the bus stop before he can put them back against your jeans or else you might really fuck him this time. “Because Taehyung snores too loud anyway.”

The ride to your apartment totals eight minutes because it’s late, and living on the edge of the suburbs means no one’s up this late anyhow. Jeongguk hadn’t even let you find a seat, balancing through red lights on his feet just to fly out the door when you’d reached your stop. You’ve already done too much running today but Jeongguk still rushes you up to your floor, and before you can get the key to your door he has you pressed up on it instead.

“Want you,” he says. Hard against your throat like he means it.

“God—let me—open my door and you have me,” you say through your teeth, gritted because the hallways echo and now Jeongguk has his thigh pressed up against you. “Babe let go—”

He does, but only with a lingering kiss promised by your burning attraction. You don’t fumble with the lock but you do stumble in from how quick you open the door, slamming shut in your haste and you hear his duffel bag meet the ground and now your back meets the hard metal again. “You have to stop shoving me into this thing oh my god.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeongguk whispers. He’s kissing you again. Lifts you up with no warning and you yelp into his curious mouth, dick grinding into the rough of your pants. “Fuck I—”

“Did—you want to—”

“No—wait yes, yes—I just—” He doesn’t let up. You can feel his cock straining against his sweats, flimsy layers you could just shove down but his hips are glued to your own. “I can’t—cum. Right now. Too much. Wind—wound up.”

Your tailbone is starting to dig into the door. “Then let me down and let’s just—sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. One last kiss, nose meeting yours. “Still on my hockey grind.”

“Ew,” you snort. “Also don’t wear your pants to bed.”

“Oh.” He shoves his shoes off when you do. 

“I don’t like it when people wear their outside clothes on my sheets.”

“Oh.”

“But it’d be nice to wake up to your dick on my ass,” you add. Jeongguk makes a strangled noise, then carries you to bed.

“I’ll brush my teeth tomorrow,” is the last thing you remember him saying. 

The morning rushes in too soon. Your curtains aren’t closed and Jeongguk hogs the blanket, sprawled on your side of the bed no less. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to spoon but at least his cock is warm with something just as soft as your ass.

You settle in the calm. Jeongguk isn’t one to snore but his soft breaths are just as jarring, disbelief apparent when you realize this is the first time he’s ever slept-over at your place. As convenient as it is to live somewhere that only needed one bus ride, you’re on campus all the time; making sense meant taking up space in his res instead. But now the lump he occupies in your bed is something you think you could get used to.

(Even if he hogs the blanket.)

You’re still in your clothes from last night, but at least you had the decency to shuck off your jeans. And you’d gotten up well past Jeongguk-sleeping-hours to take off your makeup because it took you forever to pry his ridiculously strong arm off around you. You get up with a kiss to his mane of bedhead and a silent reminder to grab an extra toothbrush.

The next plan to execute on your list after washing the tired off: breakfast. And you know you don’t have eggs but you open the fridge like you’ll see the carton sitting there anyway.

You’re standing, coming to a blank for what feels like forever. You think briefly about ordering in, then remember the guilt of just grabbing groceries instead. The internal battle is cut short when you hear the creak of your bed, a long groan. Then, footsteps.

“You look sad,” Jeongguk croaks two seconds later.

You frown for effect. “I want eggs. And why are you up.”

“Come here, egghead.” Jeongguk is groggy. The sexy kind too, because his voice is a tenor that scratches the needier part in you, the one telling you to bury your face in his chest and you do just that. “I felt you move. Sorry I couldn’t wake you up with my dick against your butt.”

“S’ok. And go shower because you’re stinky.”

He lets you go. “Good morning,” he says for the first time. A domesticity you feel lightheaded from. “You should shower with me.”

“Unless you’re scared of detachable shower heads I think you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be cocky,” he whines. “And you’re dirty too, you sweat a lot just like I do.”

That’s true. “But it’s not even a hair washing day.”

“Why are you resisting me, woman.” He brings two hands up, wiggling his fingers. “I’ll tickle you.”

“You will not—”

“I will tickle you and if you don’t shower with me I will cry.”

You huff. “Fine.” He leads you down the hall to the bathroom, satisfied in his quick win, back flexing when he takes his shirt off. “And I’m the cocky one.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says. You know he’s baiting but you don’t want to resist him anymore. “You need to turn the shower on because I don’t know how to.”

Getting naked is a different kind of intimate when you’re not in the bedroom. You know this because Jeongguk can’t even look your way when you’ve stripped, but you’re shivering like he’s staring.  You step into the tub before he can back out. He doesn’t come in till the water’s running.

You like it hot. Jeongguk—not so much by the looks of his hesitation, so you compromise with a slight shift of the knob and a switch in place so he’s under the pelt of water. He’s all hard muscle under your hands. “Hope you like cherry blossom.”

He doesn’t say anything. Grabbing the loofah you spurt your pink soap, lathering it on his chest first. Jeongguk just stares. “I really missed you,” he says.

You nod. Nodding fast to keep yourself from thinking too hard because then you might start getting soft. “Me too,” you croak out. “Want me to wash your hair?”

Jeongguk just brushes his lips against yours in answer. You’ve just reached over his shoulders to get the back of his neck but he forces you back into the tiles, back inundated with cold hardness and there’s no room for complaint when your tits press against Jeongguk’s skin like this. He groans a desperate sound into your pliant mouth. “I—I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

You pause. “For what?”

“I don’t—know—I—just having you here again. Makes me want to do everything.”

You are enveloped in mist and so much longing. “Let me finish then we’ll—go back.” You don’t know if you want to focus southward because one look at his dick and you’ll fall to your knees. “Turn around.”

He does. The glass of the divider fogs up in your intimacy. You give a half-hearted scrub along his skin, focusing on the grime you can’t see. Can’t think.

“Okay you know—I think we’re good,” you say, voice tight.

“Come here.” Jeongguk spins to find you again, a hard kiss into you and you feel his dick press up against your stomach. “Towels.”

“Turn off the shower.” You push open the door, shaking legs dripping onto the floor as you scramble to wrap yourself in warmth other than Jeongguk. He grabs the other one, quick passes over his skin before he drops it to the floor and nearly bowls you over to get you out into the bed room.

It’s bright. Jeongguk reads your mind. “Can I—shut the blinds?”

“Please.”

He goes to twist the plastic while you dry off the last remnants of water clinging to your skin, and before you know it Jeongguk has you lain flat across the tangled blankets, legs dangling from the side of the bed. “God I tried really hard to have a normal morning with you but I—just can’t anymore.” He kneels over you. “Please tell me you feel the same.”

You could go on about how quick the one-eighty was. From your thoughts about breakfast to this absolutely insatiable need for your boyfriend to insert whatever valid body part he could use into your pussy. But you and Jeongguk are never conventional, and going too fast is an illusion now. 

You have each other again, and no one’s counting the seconds anymore.

“Will you fuck me?” You ask.

“Yes,” he decides, and he unwraps the towel you’d clung onto before pressing downwards and caving into your lips. “I—have never wanted you so goddamn bad in my life, oh my god.”

“Good,” you choke on your breath because Jeongguk slips down your throat with his tongue and a pucker of his lips. “Ah—!”

A bloom of your slick runs through your cunt when he sucks hard on your skin, thumbs a shy presence on your breasts but they peak under the pressure. “You have the cutest tits,” he says. 

“Shut up.” You flare with embarrassment. “You can—be more rough.”

Jeongguk twists your nipples and you pant. “Like that?”

“Suck on them too. Make it—hurt.” His eyes flutter, determined in your command. Mouth a hot suction, laving you with his spit. His teeth graze in a bite and you moan. “Fuck—yeah. That’s so good…”

He stays like this: feeding into your sounds with sloppy grips of his tongue, suckling till your tits pop out his mouth and your hands find the nape of his neck in desperation. “Ugh—please—”

Jeongguk slurps on a nipple. “Get up there.”

You scramble up the bed, comfortably nestled in the centre and Jeongguk’s fingers go to spread your pussy,   cheeks heating in the sound of wet. He sighs.

“Do you want to cum now?”

You dip your head. “Please.”

He settles on his stomach, diving in to latch onto your clit, sucking that has your head thrown back further with every inch he covers with the jerk of his tongue. Honed in on the dangerous tip that could have you teetering over in a second and your hips pull back, but his hands take your bucking and locks you down to his attention. Too much so and now you wail. “Oh my g—od.”

Curses caught in the grit of your teeth because now he licks the stretch of your cunt like he’s thirsty. Jeongguk’s good at making you want more when you don’t know what means. “Gonna—use a finger.”

“Fuck, yeah. Yeah.” He curls in and up, a sweet crevice touched. Eyes rolling back as you puff. “Holy fu-uck yeah, finger it.”

“Wanna beg?” He suggests. Challenging.

“You’re asking me to?”

“I’m begging you to,” Jeongguk snickers.

“Then—” you settle up on your elbows, watching the minute thrusts into your cunt like a lazy cartoon— “please use another finger. And—make me cry this time.”

His eyes bulge in your confidence. Pulls out; now there’s two hard intrusions and it digs into a sweeter part inside, a touch that has you keening right into the pillow, drool smearing on the sheet. Clit sitting pretty on his wet tongue and you’d let him have it all day if he asked. Then Jeongguk thrusts in a drill so hard you vibrate. “O-O-Oh my fuuuuuuck—”

He curves into your loudness. “So fucking sexy,” he praises, rushing right through you and onto his fingers. “So wet—”

“Ugh—!” Your sobbing isn’t a tearful one but the scratch in your throat is smarting. Jeongguk swipes right over your nub. Leans up, fingers still a consistent presence and now his tongue is teasing yours, a muscle spasm more than anything and you can’t fucking breathe.

“Sit on my face,” he says.

“You—really?”

“I might cum.” Oh. He looks at you, eyes a wonder of pleasured agony. Probably because he’d been grinding into the sheets like last time but now you’re even more gone.

“Okay,” you gulp, and Jeongguk rolls over. Knees above his shoulders, using his elbows to slide along the mattress till you’re settled comfortably over his eager mouth. “You okay?”

“Fuck yeah.” He pulls on your thighs until his neck doesn’t strain up anymore, a stretch you can ignore if only to feel the traction of his rough love on your sensitivity. “This is—so hot.”

“Are you—pulling on pornographic roots right now?”

He hums into a suction. “Yeah.”

“What else have you thought about?” You can’t see his entire face from your view, but his forehead is scrunched. Thinking hard for you.

“Nothing—crazy,” he says. He kisses your leaking cunt. “Always wanna make you feel good. But it’d be hot if I choked you, yeah.”

“Oh—”

“Whatever you like,” Jeongguk decides. “I like whatever you like.”

“I would like it if you made me cry,” you contend.

He doesn’t say anything else. Jeongguk squeezes your ass, neck straining to get you dribbling on the tip of his tongue, pleasure pulled from the bottom of your stomach into moaning so loud you’re worried for the thinness of your walls. “Oh my god I’m close—don’t stop—”

Your pussy grinds right into it. His fingers are lax on your skin like he’s given up if it means you feed into your own demise. And you do: grating all your nerves from Jeongguk’s insistence into your sex and your hands tangle into his hair. “Oh fuck I’m—Jeongguk—!”

The feeling settles heavy in your pussy. Taken with a vehemence you’d praise forever and Jeongguk is nothing but passionate, a power translated through all his work and one he insists on when he paints your cunt like it’s his favourite thing to do. His hands tighten their grip on your ass, nearly falling over when his tongue slides like that—

“I’m cumming—oh my god I’m—fuck!”

Your eyes sting. It bursts—starting on Jeongguk’s tongue and spreading so fast you can’t tell up from down.  Moans wrenched from your chest and you can’t catch your breath, even when you push yourself off from Jeongguk because you can’t stop riding into it. “Ah—oh fuck.” You’re sniffling.

“Babe wait did I actually make you cry?”

“Yes you idiot, come here.” And Jeongguk crawls over you, kiss-ready, lips wet on yours. “Do you—is it—are you okay? Do you wanna try now?”

“Sure,” he says. “I just—might not last too long.”

“We take it slow,” you say. He nods. “Got condoms?”

Jeongguk looks sheepish but he nods again. “Please don’t ask me why I have them on me.”

“I’m asking why you have them on you.”

He groans. “Let me just—get them from my bag.” And he runs, hard penis and all, outside to the bag he’d left outside in your haste to the bed. He’s not even gone for two seconds before he has the string of foil in his hand. “Remember there was a party last night? Taehyung gave them to me just in case—you know. Something happened.”

“Good friend. Do you—have lube too?” 

Jeongguk pales. “No.”

“Come here,” you order instead, because you’re ridiculously wet anyhow. He gets closer, lying down when you push his chest down. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just wanna kiss you.”

He lets you. You stay in this moment, a precursor to a new era if you were being dramatic about it. But having him so soft and yielding under you like this makes you want to enjoy it, bit by bit. “I love you,” he says.

You mold into him. “I love you too.” Reaching over for one of the foils, you tear it as Jeongguk stares with a still chest. The condom rolls easily. “Okay?”

“Yep.”

Then you sit on top of him, your own breath caught in the butterflies jumbled in your stomach, a flit when his hands come to rest on your thighs. Nerves tangling with his and you feel the low tremors in his body. Your pussy glides along his dick lying pretty on his stomach. You tangle your hands with his. “Don’t be nervous,” you whisper.

Jeongguk gulps. “Just—kiss me again.”

You lean back down, his hands tightening yours when you meet him again. “Are you okay?”

His eyes are closed. “Yes—yes. You can put it in. Please.”

“Just—say the word and I’ll stop.”

He nods.

There’s a lump in your throat. You want it to be good for him. The griping all his friends did had done a great deal for your sex life, yeah. But the point of his comfort was crossed so many times you feared he’d back out by this time. And now he waits: waits for your go, on your own time, because the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you too. You know it in his attention, his quiet insistence on making you cum first. His patience for you to come back to him. Waiting so that you could get comfortable before he did, because he’s only ever comfortable when you are. 

You hold the base of his dick, tip straight below your core, positioned at the height of both your breaths.

You sink down.

It’s a scarcity, to feel this good from the get-go. A prodding that pinches a little stretches you right, Jeongguk’s length gloved in your heat, so much heat because he groans. “Oh my god.”

“Is that—okay?”

“Yes—”

His hands find your hips when your knees drop down even further. Slow, slow, slow; so wet because he makes you feel it—until you bottom out. Jeongguk shivers. “Tell me—when I can move.”

You watch his eyebrows scrunch up, teeth gritting when you shift to ease the weight on your legs. “I’m good. I’m good, please move, fuck.”

You do. You pick up to an easy pace, not straining yourself but enough for the tip of his dick to hit a spot in your gut that has you cooing. Your hands find his chest. “Ooh—fuck yeah.”

“Is it good—for you?” Jeongguk pants, bucking his hips when he watches your tits bounce. 

“Yeah. Feels so good…” You trail off, getting used to the feel of something so much thicker than his fingers. A burn you can’t say you haven’t missed, teasing your insides and you squeeze.

“Baby—that—fuck—” He’s sweating. His forehead shines, hair caught on his skin. His chest is a flushed, wet where your palms meet him because you’re getting a little winded now. But the little grunts he lets out every time you bounce is enough to keep you going. 

“Do you think—you can cum like this?”

His grin is sheepish. “N-No.”

You opt for a closer grind then. “How do you want me?”

“Your back,” he says, hesitant. “Let me—fuck you from the edge of the bed.”

You can do that. You lift up till his dick lies wet on his belly, sheets a mess under your bum when you let Jeongguk get up to move you the way he wants. He stands, one knee on the mattress as he spreads your legs, pussy served like it’s his to take. Makes a grab for his dick; jostles around a bit on your clit to see your hole tighten, stomach clenched. 

He presses in slow just to see you shiver. In control of your pleasure again, and you sigh into the sheets. 

“Oh my god.” You grasp the blankets, elbows strong to watch what you now know is the visual of Jeongguk fucking you. A little stilted in his rhythm, but only because he’s getting used to the feel of your pussy like this. 

You don’t care for the semantics of proper fucking. As long as his hips meet your ass in the beat you can only call nasty. The squelch of your arousal is loud. “Fuck—baby…”

“Yeah—feels so good.” Buried deep in your walls and maybe you could learn the ridges of his dick like this: lain here for him to use, cunt fit only for his pleasure. A position you’d gladly take everyday from now on because fuck if this isn’t heavenly. 

You know he feels it too when his chest picks up in his panting, dick a piston now and you mewl. 

“Yeah—faster, baby—like that—!”

“Shit—” Smearing your walls with your own slick, made for him to dirty. A push so vigorous you would be sliding if it weren’t for Jeongguk’s tight hands on you, and all you can do is take it. “Babe I’m close—”

And he bends down, kissing you with a pant into your mouth because he’s getting spent, efforts all going into your pleasure. He still thrusts. “Cum. Cum when you can, fuck.”

“What about—”

You shut him up with another press of your lips. “I’m fine.”

He leaves it at that. Jeongguk leans up again, adjusting one more time till he’s got both knees on the bed, cock a heady presence inside your sex and he gives it hard now. You’re trying not to squeeze so hard around him but it’s getting difficult; seeing him so focused, his eyes wild, sweat dripping on his shoulders. Sweltering in your heat and love and novelties—defiling him but in the best way possible. “I love you,” he chokes. “Oh my god I might—”

“Give it to me,” you whisper.

He does. Your pussy is still in Jeongguk’s indulgence, his whines escalating until he groans out: “I’m cumming—”

Jeongguk slams into you, a final push for your core and he croons into your neck. Streams of his pleasure in the form of a long sigh, his pulses inside. And maybe you’re dumb but you’re laughing and crying again, arms wrapping around his neck, swaying him back and forth as he calms down. 

“How was that?” You ask.

He’s crying, too. You wipe his under-eye when he takes one more kiss. “Best ever,” he says. “I’ll make you cum.”

“You don’t need to—” But his thumb is already on your clit, still wet from his doing and you force your hips to stillness— “Jeongguk no—”

“I wanna feel you cum around my dick,” he says, and the plea is enough for you to tighten and cry even more. It hurts, a nudge of pain but it’s already beginning to spread into pleasure—

“Jeongguk—”

You cum into his kiss, walls clenching into an orgasm so sweet your toes tingle. A ripple of pleasure running through all of you and he moans like he feels it too. 

Out of breath. It’s hot under his skin.

“So. Who do we tell first?”

Jeongguk laughs. “Maybe we can decide over breakfast.”

And you feel something, better than orgasmic bliss, the pleasure of a tryst: the simplicity of being in love. Jeongguk makes you feel like you can do anything.

“Eggs?” You ask.

His tongue is sweet. “Eggs.”

[patroclusonly]

Well y’all, here is my awaited (by like, two people) really long post explaining why I think Bobby is not that great of a character and why I hate his relationship with Buck. 

(this was supposed to be for a reblog but it’s way tooo long for that)

Be warned, this will be me pointing out everything he did wrong and why the way he acts with Buck is just wrong too in a very direct way and with lots of swearing because that's how I express my anger in writing. So, if you like Bobby you probably won’t like this.

I will put a cut here so only the people that want to read it, do it

To start let me say what I think about the man.

Bobby is the most boring character in the show. There, I said it.  

Yeah, his backstory is super sad and whatever but he’s just bland and I think the reason the fandom loves him so much and loves to see him as a father figure is because he’s an old, non-threatening, white man. He said two coherent thoughts in season one and treated Buck like a kid and everyone bought this “nice, wise and always right” idea of him. 

Also, his natural stand is the ‘welcome to chili's’ stand. Yes. You know it is. Okay, keep going.

To be someone so “mature” and “wise”, he has the emotional maturity of a child. He snaps when he’s angry, he gives the silent treatment and he changes the subject when he feels threatened. 

Every time he’s mad at himself or about something in his life, he snaps at the team or even at people in calls, he gets defensive when someone calls him out on his self righteousness and his superiority complex. Now, to expand that i’m going to give some examples:

-He snaps at Chimney when they learn about the blood thing and he gets mad at the fact that now he has something good in his life because he doesn’t deserve it and so he’s all moody at work???

-He snaps at Hen days after asking for her help to stay sober, 

-He snaps at Buck when he says he read his book and even gets physical, pushing him against the wall 

*Now, because I have a thing against men and threatening physical movements, I’m going back to episode one and how he physically moves to make Buck feel scared (that he might hit him) when he walks towards him in the roof, making him back up.* (yes, Buck was afraid of his reaction and since he’s Buck he wasn’t just gonna stand up to him, much less because it was Bobby, and I’m pretty sure he (bobby) knew that)

-Also, the way he says “what did you just said to me?” to Buck in 3.18 like Buck had just insulted him. That was just a stupid and out of place reaction, not a reaction of a boss in the middle of a disaster but it will be talked about later. 

-That one time when he snaps at the owner of the building where the floor collapsed during the wedding 

-That one time he snaps (and again, gets physical and pushes him against a wall) at the dude in the episode with the vegan protesters because he can’t handle how he’s feeling about Buck and the lawsuit. (I’m vegan so yeah, fuck that dude, but the point is: that was another immature and unprofessional reaction)

(I could take that time when Michael is telling him he’s done enough (after harry sets a fire on purpose to play firefighter) and Bobby says “What’s that supposed to mean?” But I won’t because that’s just another immature reaction but for different reasons)

Going to the silent treatment or change of subject when he feels threatened:

-When Chimney is telling the team he proposed to Tatiana and Bobby is standing as Chim says “silently judging right there with that smirk on your face” (which is the vibe he gives all the time, thinking he knows best, and now quoting De Luca, who was a little jealous but a lot right saying “you come in here with your nose in the air and your eyes looking down”) then he just says “you know what? you’re upset. Let’s drop it.”But Chim keeps pushing and then he just attacks back.

-Also, he wants things his way and isn’t willing to understand the other’s reason for something. “I’m not gonna be satisfied with stolen kisses and take out containers. I don’t like keeping us a secret. It feels like lying.” (remember when Eddie says to Buck “a lot of Is there”? mhmm) and the fact that he worded it that way makes it worse. Also, “it feels like lying” really? what are you, five? 

-another moment that shows his immaturity and stupid things he’s said: “Well what am I supposed to do? Forget it, forget all the mean thing she said to her?” Are you a grown man talking about your wife (who can fix her own shit, thank you very much) and her mother, or about a little kid getting bullied bro?

Jumping to the next time we see Athena’s mother. In episode 7 from season 3 he literally calls her so she would make Athena stop investigating Emmeth’s case and after she convinces Athena to tell them everything, he tells her he can do it, like he’s giving her his permission or his blessing to do it? She was gonna do it anyway, fool.

another stupid line: “he called me a liar and it stung.” why does he sound like a five year old all the time? 

another stupid thing he said because he doesn’t take blame in anything apparently (and this is going to be mentioned again when I get into his relationship with Buck but I’m going to talk about it now too) Athena jokes about not inviting Buck over anymore because something always happens and Bobby says “That’s a great idea. None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t invited him over for dinner.”  (HMMMMM)

Also, he’s mocking and condescending. But well, I don’t have the time to find all the scenes for that. Let’s just say he is with Chim sometimes (maybe some other character, let me know if you have someone in mind) and then with Buck the rest of the time and you can clearly see it. 

There are some other examples that could be used here but will be used to analyze his and Buck’s relationship in this next part.

Now the idea was to divide this by season and try to organize by episode but it got a little messy. You can understand everything anyway and that’s what matters, okay?

Season 1: 

You can see the potential for a father-son relationship, but all the patience and understanding he has at the beginning is gone after the roof scene (personally, I think it’s all about projecting his own past mistakes and that why he looks so angry and resentful).

He goes from “He just needs a little direction” and explaining things like why Buck can’t go into the hospital with the baby to “leave your problems behind” and kind of shaming him for sleeping around? Saying “we work with women side by side” as if Buck was harassing someone?

“So you wanna disrespect yourself, that’s fine with me. You wanna disrespect all these women that you chase around, that’s on them.” He’s clearly way too old school and apparently doesn’t understand that as long as there’s consent, there’s nothing wrong with sleeping around, it’s not something to be ashamed of. And Bobby (the whole team, honestly but Bobby has some defining lines) make him feel so ashamed to the point that once he feels bad about himself when he wants to start having sex again. 

Then after Buck comes back to the station with the truck, after helping with the little girl, he asks Bobby if he’s giving him another chance and Bobby says he’s out of chances and that he  “failed to communicate”  how lucky they are to do what they do.

To which Buck answers: “You’re wrong, Bobby. I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here, and you know what? You were right to fire me. I was a punk. I still am one. But I’m a punk who understands what he lost.”  I think between that and the “I don’t have anything else.” he said in the roof scene, Bobby should’ve stopped doubting Buck’s commitment to the job. 

But he stil thinks throughout the seasons that he doesn’t take it seriously and that it’s all a game for him. 

In episode two, you can see once again the potential to this relationship when Buck thinks he’s letting Bobby down and Bobby takes the time to sit with him and explain that it’s okay to feel like that after losing someone and that he should talk to someone. And he helps him past that fear (when he tells him to do the maneuver) because he knows he’s just afraid and needs a little push. 

(Also, maybe this is not as important but he says “this is not a family” to Buck, but when they’re in the hospital with Chimney after the rebar thing he says “his family is right here”? Which is it man?)

(Also pt 2, I don’t like tatiana but he was super rude. “this is not about love, it’s about decency”. How about you find a better way to phrase your thoughts bro, because somehow you come out with the rudest thing to say every time.)

In episode three, Buck insists about knowing about his little book and Bobby just, pushes him against the wall?? And everyone is like, okay with it??

In episode fours he relapses (still don’t understand what triggers him?But I guess alcoholism is a complicated thing). Buck and Hen help him and he’s all snappy with Hen. 

Now, with the flashbacks you can see how he’s been an alcoholic for years and his wife tells him that she thought he would do everything to stay sober so he “wouldn’t be caught at work again.” 

And he says “I’m strong. I’m unbreakable. I’m superman. I go into burning buildings and I come out without a scratch. That’s me.”  You can see why he projects so much on Buck, but he’s projecting about the wrong thing.

Buck doesn’t think he’s invincible, he just would do anything to save people. Even put himself in danger. And yeah, thinking he can do anything while in the uniform is something that we see him say but it’s still not the same thing. 

(And this is just me being petty about how bland he is but that scene is supposed to be sad and it’s just meh. His wife tells him to leave because she can’t see him and he gives the blandest (and kinda rude considering the situation) “then what?” and when she tells him “I’ll forgive you, just not tonight.” he just goes out again and keeps drinking.)

Also, we know he spent years working while drinking but he can’t let Buck work while just sleeping around 

Okay, I kinda lost the episodes’ numbers here but when Buck starts seeing Abby and he asks Bobby for advice, his advice fucking suck. 

“Why don’t you try something new, just once, getting to know her.” Now, listen here, my boy Buck wanted that intimacy shit. Remember when he asked for truck girl’s number in episode one? That was him wanting more, but he hadn’t been lucky there so just, meaningless sex was the other option for closeness. 

“If you’re interested in her, a woman like that deserves chivalry.” 

“Any woman with substance and experience has lived a life and she’s gonna come with some baggage.” 

He is the definition of old school sexist. My man, every woman deserves chivalry, okay? And please rethink how you value a woman’s worth, thank you.

(Another comment about episode eight: He was snappy and mad a himself and just drops the bomb on Chim about his plan of killing himself???Go to therapy bro, Chimney did not needed that weight on him.)

Entering season 2  (which doesn’t have that much scenes between them)

Let’s jump directly to the famous “I feel like, if I ever did that, you would yell at me.” that Buck says because he’s so right. He’s always treated like a reckless kid that doesn’t think things through but the fact is that he’s really smart and his plans and the times he’s jumped in to save people have worked out just fine? 

You can see the difference between how he treats Buck, who has been working for over a year now, and how he treats Eddie, who is supposedly a probie, from the start. 

And as a mutual pointed out not long ago and it stuck with me, Bobby plays favorites and Eddie is clearly his favorite. He can do no wrong and doesn’t need to be told what to do. He has Bobby’s trust without even working for it and Buck, who’s been there working his ass off for the recognition (not the approval) that he is good at his job (because it’s everything for him), gets nothing but being told off over and over. 

In Bobby Begins Again we learn that after he almost drank himself to death, Bobby gets sober again and tries to come back as fast as he can to work and he just wants the big boss to make it happen. Doesn’t stop to think maybe he’s not ready yet, he just wants to go back to work to, as he says, “atone for what I’ve done in my own way and if you won’t let me do that then send me some place that will.” (also, again, and example of wanting for things to go his way, no matter what)

He also doesn’t even stop to think about how much he fucked up and that, even though he thinks he’s ready to go back, everyone else might not think that. (Also, other reason as to why he projects so much on Buck)

Then 2.18 happens. Everything starts to go wrong for Buck and good for Bobby. 

Bobby goes back to work and Buck has months of recovery after the truck bombing. That was aimed for Bobby. And to which he never apologised or said anything about. 

They can’t fire the “guy who was a hero on the 6 o’clock news” but they can not let back the guy that was actually crushed, because the “hero” doesn’t allow it. 

He’s looked as a hero but everyone forgets that it happened because of him in the first place. 

Season 3:

In episode one, Bobby thinks Buck is ready to come back. Then the blood clots happen and he starts projecting again. 

“I thought I could handle it. Lied to everybody, ignored the pain. I don’t want him making the same mistakes that I did. The job should mean a lot, but it shouldn’t mean everything. He’s gotta learn that.” 

Buck was out for five? six months? And the blood clots were something he couldn’t see coming. It’s not that a month happened and he wanted to go back, even when he wasn’t fully healed. He did everything right but still, Bobby was projecting through his own past mistakes. 

Also “The job should mean a lot, but it shouldn't mean everything. He’s gotta learn that.” Bobby should only be worried about Buck being able to do his job because other people depend on him, not try to teach him some life lesson. And Buck was able to do his job, he passed the recertification, the clots were just a set back. He should’ve been able to come back after healing from that. 

Athena sees how Bobby is bringing feelings into it. [“He’s not my kid”]

“No. But he’s also not you. Maybe he’s making the same mistakes you did. Maybe he’s not.”

Bobby says “Just wait and see?” and I thought he would understand and he would let Buck back and wait to see if he actually had a reason behind his doubt. 

“You gotta let them grow up sometime.” Athena says, clearly seeing that Bobby is too attached to Buck and does (kinda) try to protect him like a kid. 

(Now, from here on I forgot (again) to write down some of the episodes’ numbers so it’s a bit of a blur but I’ll keep talking about how Bobby keeps projecting and lying)

We know that Bobby gets a call to talk about if Buck and his return to work. Let’s keep that in mind for a second. 

“It’s the blood thinners. The department is concerned about liability issues and since the doctors haven’t figured out what’s causing the clots.” He lies. Right to his face. 

“Well, Buck if we were out on a call and something happened to you…” He acts all concerned about how they can’t be worrying about him while on a call. Let’s remember now how Chimney got a rebar through his head and got stabbed and within a month he was back, and no one was worried about him getting any side effects in the job. 

“Then I would have two paramedics standing next to me. I would be fine.”

“They can’t do this to me. You can’t let them take away my job.”

“Out there in the world, helping people. That is where I belong. That is where I have spent five months fighting to get back to. And now you’re gonna tell me that I can’t?”

“I don’t want light duty, okay. And neither would you. I quit.” 

Now those are all things Buck said and Bobby, at any moment, could’ve said something like “I was the one to tell them you weren’t ready but as soon as you get cleared, you’ll be back.” But he chose to keep quiet, to keep lying. 

And then he dares to say “Buck has us”? Really? Like he wasn’t the actual cause of everything Buck was going through.?

Then Buck goes back for light duty as fire marshall and Bobby says: “For what is worth, I’m proud of you. I’m glad you didn’t throw away your career ‘cause you had a little set back.” (and dares to be annoyed with Buck for how he is as a fire marshall)

“I promise you,  your place will still be here for when you’re ready” PROJECTING. 

The whole scene with Bobby, Athena and Buck at dinner is Bobby being a coward because he knows what he’s doing is wrong. The projecting and lying.

“You’re not ready, that’s what I told them when they asked.” 

“You’re the reason they won’t let me back?” That was a clear question, basically “you told them not to let me back” yet Bobby deflects and denies it’s his fault:

“Medication is the reason.” 

Athena tries to help and says “Bobby is just worried about you, that’s all.” and to try and get Buck’s focused anger out of Bobby she says “We all are.” But she made it clear before that she thought he should let Buck back. 

“I thought you were my friend.” 

“I am your friend. I am also the captain of almost twenty other firefighters whose life and safety depend in the decisions I make and I can’t put them at risk if you’re not operating at 100%...” 

“Buck, I know that you went through a lot in that tsunami and maybe you feel like you can survive anything…” 

Now, for those last quotes I would like to remember the “I’m strong. I’m unbreakable. I’m superman.” dialogue and the fact that Bobby never cared if Chim was at 100% or if he himself was at 100% when he was asking to go back to work that time in Bobby Begins Again. 

Also, that night before Buck tells him about the lawsuit, he still doesn’t apologise. 

In episode five, when Athena jokes with Michael about not inviting Buck over anymore because something always happens Bobby says “That sounds like a great idea. None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t invited him over for dinner.” My initial reaction to this was EXCUSE YOU BITCH??? but what this actually tells me is that he was never planning to tell Buck the truth about him being the reason he couldn’t go back to work.

Now this is both the fucking funniest and the fucking worst thing because this fucker really doesn’t see how wrong his is: 

“I don’t treat Buck any differently than I do any other firefighter under my watch.”

And I think even people that do like Bobby can see the bullshit in that. 

Buck is literally the only firefighter that gets treated differently. And you’d think that since everyone seems to believe their relationship is “father-son” like it would be a good thing for Buck, but no. He’s the one always getting screwed over while the rest can do whatever they want without any consequences. 

And we’re gonna quote the lawyer now because even though he used Buck’s lack of knowledge about how attorney-client relationship works, he makes some pretty on point arguments:

“It’s relevant because it illustrates how everyone except mister Buckley is allowed to return to the job no matter the injury or infarction.” 

“You asked my client for his help that day. That’s exactly what he did, without hesitation, he helped you get sobered up and you returned to your full duty as captain of the 118. (...) So isn’t the only difference between your off duty relapse and mister Buckley’s that he actually did everything in his power to help you return to your job?” 

I think the city tried to settle the lawsuit with so much money for a reason, don’t you?

You can also see how Buck, the one that was actually affected by what Bobby did, doesn’t hold any resentment towards him and is just glad to be invited to the rage room thing. And is the one to apologise AGAIN, when Bobby hasn’t apologised once.

“Brass didn’t want the headache, they’re afraid of the bad press (...) They gave me the option to transfer you, they understood how I might not want you back after everything you put us through.” 

Put them through what? Honestly. Buck was the one crushed. Buck was the one left behind. Buck was the one lied to. Buck was the one doubted and betrayed by one of the people he trusted the most. The rest was put through...? some truth thrown in their faces? 

In episode six, Bobby tells Athena “Well, he’s signed every liability waiver and release forum that the department threw at him. Pretty sure we could drop a piano in Buck’s head and he wouldn’t be able to sue the city for it.” 

And then later he says “I don’t know what I’m doing. He just, he doesn’t think things  through. He acts and reacts and that leaves the rest of us to have to deal with the fall out.” I would like a list of the times Buck did something that actually affected the rest of them in a bad way aside from the lawsuit where everyone was just left with hurt feelings, please and thank you.

Buck takes his job seriously. I would say more than anyone else. Because for Buck the job is the most important thing in his life, unlike the rest of them because they all have families to put first. 

Athena, again, because she’s a queen that he doesn’t deserve, sees that Bobby’s just angry and has hurt feelings. 

Buck is finally back and of course, because he’s Buck, he doesn’t just shut up and obeys, and Bobby says:

“You know Buck, someday  you’re gonna figure out when to stop pushing and learn some patience. I hope we’re both alive to see it.” He’s talking all patronizingly again and he uses the word “learn” (which is something important, they way he always uses that or implies that with Buck) because he still sees Buck as a kid that needs to learn a lesson. 

Hen, because she’s another queen, also sees that Bobby is being too emotional and unprofessional with Buck and Bobby says:

“I can see that he’s trying. It just still seems like he doesn’t get it. Like this is all a game to him.” Which honestly, what the actual fuck. Remember that speech Buck gave Bobby in season one when I said that’s the last moment Bobby should’ve thought Buck didn’t take his job seriously? Well, apparently even though he’s been working for two years now, to him,  he takes his job less seriously now. Crazy, right?  

Hen, beautiful smart and objective queen Hen, explains to him that if it was all a game to Buck, he could be fucking around with the millions (MILLIONS) he was offered on the lawsuit, but that he chose to go back to work and that Bobby is just being selfish (she doesn’t say selfish but we reading between lines here) by holding him back. 

Apparently, Bobby kinda gets it and is ready to let Buck back in for real. 

Then the scene where Buck helps the lady with the dude in the windshield happens and Bobby is called to the hospital because emergency contact? Buck explains what happened and Bobby, because he’s so fucking rude without even noticing how that makes everyone else (mostly Buck) feel, says: 

“‘cause you jumped in and saved him. Probably didn’t even occur to you to worry about yourself.” He says this like Buck just proved to him that he had a reason to not let him back. 

“Yeah, I know. I know. I didn’t think, just rushed in like I always do. I guess it’s like, the uniform is my costume. You know, I put it on and suddenly I’m brave and I’m strong and make a difference. Feels like without it I’m not much of anything.” (That last line broke my fucking heart btw) But here you can see Buck knows he’s impulsive, but he’s not really reckless. He can’t help his impulse to save people, it’s who he is. (what bobby isn’t naturally, but that’s another topic we’re not going to talk about right now)

I think here is when Bobby finally starts to understand that Buck is not a kid that doesn’t understand what he has and needs to be taught a lesson. 

“Does that mean you are ready to let me back for real?”

“Doesn’t matter if I’m ready, you are. It’s time for me to get out of your way.” This line says a lot. He finally understands that he can’t just hold Buck back because he sees his own mistakes on him and that he was doing that before. Buck is ready and has been ready for a long time but he just now sees that it’s not up to him to decide over Buck’s life like that. 

(For this next part we’re going to remember how I said that the only one to ever really suffer the consequences and to be treated differently is Buck)

In episode seven, Bobby finds out Eddie’s been street fighting. He listens to Eddie and understands, doesn’t judge him, doesn’t get mad for putting everyone at risk by coming to work injured. He doesn’t even tell him “hey, maybe you should take some time off and figure your shit out.” He just send him to therapy and lets him keep working like nothing happened.

In episode nine, when Hen hits the girl (as in crashes with the ambulance, yk, not actually hit her), everyone is sure that it’s not her fault and they let her return to duty right away, she’s the one to ask for some time off. 

And everyone doesn’t doubt for a second that the accident wasn’t her fault, doesn’t judge her at all. (which is fine because it wasn’t her fault but my point is, would’ve Buck been the one in this situation, I don’t know if it would’ve been as easy to resolve) 

When Buck is worried about Bobby and the radiations thing, he asks him how he feels and if he’s hiding symptoms, and Bobby thinks he’s annoying. But maybe that’s what he should’ve done with Buck when he was the one recovering instead of just assuming and lying and keeping him from returning to work. 

In episode sixteen, Hen just “felt like breaking every rule in the book” and does what she think is right no matter what (which was actually right and we understand but that’s not the point). We’re gonna add some quotes here:

“You can do what you want, I’m doing this.” She says to Chimney like there was any other option for him. 

Everyone praises her and is proud of her. Then Bobby comes in:

“Feels like this is about more than Anton. That girl, the cello player. You’re still thinking about her.” 

She knows what she did was wrong and asks “How much trouble am I in?” 

“Patient didn’t die. No one’s lodged a complaint. It’s a great save. Don’t do it again.” That's it. 

He doesn’t get mad, doesn’t reprimand her, doesn’t suspend her. Doesn’t say “Hey, you just did a really reckless and impulsive thing that broke many rules and I’m sorry but I have to reprimand you . Also, maybe you should take some time off? Go to therapy. Chill. Learn that even though you were right, you can’t just pull that shit at work.”

In episode eighteen, they’re talking about saving Abby’s fiance after Bobby finds out, and I’m going to put the dialogue first and then talk about it. 

 “Stop. You’re too close to this. This is too risky.” 

“Well, I am willing to take the risk.” 

“It’s not yours to take. You can’t just rush into any dangerous situation and assume it’s gonna be okay. ´Cause it’s not and I am tired of being on the wrong side of those hospital doors.”

“Bobby, I am not Athena.”

“What did you just say to me?”

Well, first of all, his priority should be doing the job, saving as many people as they can. Buck is WILLING to take the risk to save both people and  it is his to take. And not only because he promised to Abby he would save Sam, but because it’s who he is. He saves people, no matter the risk for him. (which again, three(? years of knowing him and Bobby still doesn’t understand) 

Also Bobby, hun, if you’re tired of seeing your team (and Athena) in the hospital, maybe you should reconsider your life choices because you’re captain of  a group of people that literally  puts themselves in harm’s way to help other people for a living. 

In conclusion, Bobby is kind of a hypocrite that projects a lot, is immature, resentful and has issues expressing how he feels properly, most of these things are always directed at Buck and that’s why I don’t like him and their relationship. 

You have reached the end! Amazing. This was a really long rant honestly but I believe everything I wrote here, so hopefully y’all understand my perspective and I don’t gain haters for this

 I think I make some pretty good points.

Okay, if you really read all that, thank you! It took me a long time lol 

(Tagging you because you asked: @angelcamael) (And my girl @himbo-buckley who is always there to listen to me rant about this) 

[greenhatsinthesky]

lockdown film no. 43 - Beast (2017) dir. Michael Pearce

02/06/2020

- ahh yes, the classic “choristers breath”

- I remember watching this last year in the first lockdown and I could not for the life of me figure out what her neck hair symbolised. Ill keep you updated

THE SMILE AHHH

- i recognise Clifford from somewhere. I hated how he asked if he was alright to adjust the thing he gave her despite already doing it and how uncomfy moll obviously was with this

- THE SISTERS FROM KILLING EVE WHAT. Also imagine hijacking your sisters birthday to announce you were pregnant. I mean this in many ways but could never be me

- ok yes I appreciate that the first guy was being a prick and that moll had told him multiple times to fuck off so in that sense I’m glad thingy showed up with a gun but just the irony of him almost shooting a man who was doing dodgy stuff to a woman without her consent and then once that man had run for the hills, for him to go over to that woman who is clearly very shaken up and take her arm without asking. just… men. I know he thinks he’s trying to help but anyone with a shred of awareness would surely be able to read that this might not be the best thing to do right now

- nothing scares me like being on top of a tiny rock with an absolute gale blowing off the sea. Would be nice to kiss someone there though

- my god this mother is just awful she’s just reeling off “oh you’re stupid” “no” “so you’re selfish” “no” “so you’re basically just a twat” FUCK OFF MATE

- DONT PRESS ON YOUR WOUND IT MAKES ME FEEL ILL

- oh my god I forgot that she stabbed someone. That makes more sense why she stabbed herself in the flickery light nightmare. 

- sex in the forest is all fun and games until you’ve got a literal worm up your arse and an entire thistle in your ear. un/fortunately I do not speak from personal experience

- whoever tried burying her couldn’t have done a worse job unless they literally didn’t bury her

- HER BROTHER … IS ASKING ABOUT HER “LOVE LIFE” ??? WITH PASCAL ? And she’s just deadass out here like yeah he is outstanding in bed. Or out of bed because so far we’ve only seen them do anything in the open air

- oh wait not its not her brother its cliff. Thank god

- I love how the mother is so proud of moll for implying she’d stop talking to pascal and she thinks its because she thinks he’s a bit dodgy and not because moll’s recently been informed he’s a suspect in the murder of a cHiLD

- where did the police come from ?

- RED FLAG RED FLAG (in reference to pascal thumping the steering wheel and yelling “WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN TALKING ABOUT BEHIND MY BACK” when moll said that cliff had questioned her)

- it was not consensual you were an adult and she was a child

- “you just said you loved me. Why?” “i don’t know”

- The Mother: (to Moll) maybe I’ve been too soft on you. Me: I doubt that. 

- to be honest it feels like quite a significant red flag to go out with someone who hunts for fun. Idk just seems kind of sketchy. Also her pulverising the rabbit with the butt of the gun was wayyyy worse than just shooting it. 

- I’m not sure what it is but mouths are just really creepy 

- the police questioning scene — fuck. me. what a wise woman that detective was. Loved it when she goes “a lot of us are bullied” clearly internally going “we don’t all kill people because of it”. And I don’t think its that she’s protecting pascal because she wants to take revenge on the world (might be partly that) but she’s never met anyone like her before and its fucking wild when that happens ! Just unfortunate for her that she needs to meet a possible murderer to be like “yeah we’re gonna get along”

- wait I feel so stupid who’s the lady who’s kid is dead

- cliff: it doesn’t change the way that I feel about you — fuck off ! How do you feel about her ?! You gave her an army thing and she never showed any interest in you

- THE SMELL OH MY GOD ABSOLUTELY READ

- oh to be a droplet of water falling from jessie Buckleys chin. Oh well

- i… despise how happy cliff is to hear that moll is now worried about pascal maybe having done it. Literally every man in this film is trash

- I retched when she started putting soil into her mouth. That bit was fuckin very intense. 

- my god these are made for each other. The moment when she put her hands out on the table, palms up, not reaching for him but allowing him to make the decision to come to her

- i think the phrase “it’s over” is said at least five times in the film, and every time someone says it, it's never true. It’s either straight up misinformation or the person trying to convince themselves that they’re right, and this is very interesting to me

- “kiss me” WHAT

- there’s so much red in this film at very key moments but I’ve not figured out what it means. Will have to watch again, again

- him lying on the road surrounded by broken glass unable to move, he’s the rabbit from earlier

- they are both literally insane. At least one of them had to die and I’m glad it was him for sure

- i really liked this film. A lot a lot — it was one of the most complex portrayals of a relationship of this kind, one so toxic with absolutely psychopathic people at the centre. Everyone around the two central characters are so awful that we can’t help but empathise and sympathise with moll and pascal, which is impressive because sometimes its difficult to sympathise with murderers

- i’ve seen some people saying that moll is the beast (interesting) and this is symbolised with the theme of the hair on the front of her neck. As I remember, in an earlier scene she sees it in the mirror and pulls it out, but later she sees it again and leaves it? Apologies if that’s wrong. Initially I thought “hmm, interesting, I understand the imagery of that” but then I’m thinking “if the only way you can symbolise that a woman is the beast is to give her body hair, maybe you need to have a little think about casual misogyny, because I read that as you saying “women who have body hair are hideous”. You might not have meant it in that way, but there’s intent and impact

[vvakarians]

World lore and Arc 1 Character lore from Melrose: City of Monsters! This world is a story that myself and my boyfriend @thecoffeerain

Maxime and Victor belong to my boyfriend! 

Charlie’s Twitter | Charlie’s P a t r e o n

Info under the cut!

ABOUT MELROSE: CITY OF MONSTERS

Melrose is a city just south of New York City in America, it’s a small town that is unassuming at first but is filled with dark secrets. Vampires, witches, werewolves, and humans exist together, though in a vaguely dysfunctional way. The government broke the news about vampires and werewolves only five years previous, though they’ve lived in society for far longer than that. At this point people are getting used to them living among the human population, but knowledge about magic is still kept under wraps. Vampirism, lycanthropy, and magic comes from a disease that is both highly contagious and genetic. Once you have it, you have it for life, eternal or not.This information is primarily for the first arc. MC information will be updated with each arc.

MAIN CHARACTERS OF MELROSE: CITY OF MONSTERS

Father Charles ‘Charlie’ Larousse-Robineau

Pronouns: They/them

Occupation: ‘Priest’

Bloodline: Vampire, former Human, Crowley Lineage

Maker: Belladonna Crowley, the Duchess

Origin: New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

Love Interest: Victor Talbot

Father Robineau is a charming and well traveled individual, having been born in the 1860’s to a fur merchant and his musician wife. A tragedy struck the family in the early 1880’s when Charlie’s father snapped after a fight between them, and he supposedly killed both Charlie’s younger brother Jean Marie, as well as their mother, brutally with an axe. Charlie barely got out alive, killing their father in self defense. After getting medical attention they fled to England, hoping that their extended family would take them in.When they didn’t, Charlie settled in Whitechapel, hired by a brothel to be a charlatan, medic, and overall fluffer for the girls there. It is there where they fell in love with a woman named Lilith Brown, or Lily, as she preferred. They were best friends and messed around with each other, but Lily turned their courtship down. Sad but understanding, Charlie continued to work as a charlatan, only to watch as their friends would begin dying one by one. People suspected Jack the Ripper and would lend no help to the people affected. As we know, the killer was not caught, and unfortunately one of the last to be taken would be Lily.Whether it was Jack, or a copycat, Charlie was determined to figure out who it was. Driven near mad by grief, Charlie called out to anything that would listen while attending the autopsy of Lily. Who would show up would not be their savior, but their Devil. A woman calling herself the Duchess. She promised Charlie power to find the person who harmed their friends in exchange for a favor at a later date. Charlie was then sacrificed on an altar far below Whitechapel, but to what goddess or entity, they did not know. All they know is that they were opened up much like the corpses on the autopsy tables in the morgue, and then drained of all blood, turned into a bloodthirsty monster. Then abandoned on the streets. After becoming feral and accidentally slaying two people, Charlie turned themself in, though they were quickly turned over to the Vampiric Council of the United Kingdom. This is where they were rehabilitated by Delilah Ainsworth and her husband Aegis Stone, then allowed to return to the USA. Though it was still hard to find a food source and the only thing they could think of to get a large group, but not have to worry about too many people finding out -- was build a congregation. This of course backfired and they made more of a cult than anything, and one of their cult members developed an unhealthy obsession with them. His name was Cedric.When Charlie saw what they had created and tried to disband the cult, Cedric intervened, but a few weeks afterwards Charlie would poison his blood supply with silver, enabling them to flee. After that they never saw Cedric again and would go on to serve in World War II before settling down in Melrose in the 1940’s, creating the cathedral they now work in, St Januarius’, but making sure that a cult never happens again. Thankfully with blood bags it’s become less of an issue.Their life changes though when a man named Victor walks into their church…

Victor Talbot

Pronouns: He/him or they/them

Occupation: Sex worker / Artist / Cat Wrangler

Origin: Sussex, England, United Kingdom

Love Interest: Charlie Robineau

Victor is the only child born to a surgeon and an art lecturer. He spent quite a bit of time with his mother who taught him all about Hinduism and the ways of their culture. As a child and throughout his school life he was bullied for being larger than his peers; this made him quite shy and destroyed his self esteem. He did find a love of dance though when he would watch Bollywood films with his mother at home, and then at school he got involved in modern dance. Though it was in secret, as he did not want his peers to bully him further. As he kept at it, Victor lost weight and began eating better, becoming how he’s seen today. Which of course gained him attention and popularity where there was none before. 

While studying medicine, as his father had proclaimed he would as all of the men of his family had, Victor found that he could help people by giving them the medicine they needed but couldn’t necessarily  afford. He then began to sell narcotics to addicts to cover the cost of the extravagant lifestyle forced upon him by his peers. A tragic accident occurred when the man he was seeing stole from his stash and OD’d, then was brought to the hospital where Victor was doing his residency. Victor did try to save his life but the man ended up dying. Of course he came clean about it to his dad, who was the chief of surgery at the hospital, but Victor’s dad told him to keep quiet about it lest he lose his job. Unfortunately, the damage was done and Victor became haunted by the loss of life at what he believed was his hands. Unable to cope with what he had caused, he began to take the pills he used to sell and became hooked. After a severe mental break having spent too many hours on shift he was suspended and dismissed from the program, now having to deal with being haunted continuously with what he’d done.

He would then fall into a drug spiral where he stole his father’s script pad, implicating him in his stealing, which got his father suspended. During this time he began taking street drugs and getting involved in the party scene, all to whisk him away from the trauma he suffered. This cycle only stopped when a tragedy happened for a second time. Another man he had been seeing died while they were together, and he woke up to his lifeless body in the bed. It’s here that Victor blacks out and does not have much memory of, only remembers waking up in the hospital and being convinced to go to rehab. 

After being released and having his parents hovering over him every second of the day, he relapsed, then was cut off by his mother and father. He would then sell all of his belongings, or what he could, and bought a ticket to America where he would be picked up by the infamous Red in Melrose, New York. It would be here that he’d meet Father Robineau at the St. Januarius Cathedral…

Hazel Coldbrook

Pronouns: They/he

Occupation: Personal Assistant + Receptionist

Origin: Manhattan, New York City, New York, USA

Love Interest: Maxime St. Martin

Hazel was adopted at the age of six by a Jewish doctor and a First Nations professor of linguistics at one of the universities in New York. He was put into the system after his father lost custody following a terrible car accident that killed his mother. He did have two younger siblings that were sent to different homes, he never saw them afterward. Hazel did have an older adopted sister named Morgan, who was often cruel and rude to him. She got him into a lot of trouble and often got him bullied by other children at school, more than he already was. It didn’t help that he was starting to have issues seeing and hearing things, on top of paranoid delusions. 

His parents did their best to set him up as much as they could, and he did get better eventually. Therapy and medication got him on the right track, though his night terrors do plague him still. Once he went away to college, Morgan was cut off from the family around the same time after she was arrested for violent breaking and entering. They didn’t see her for a while after that, though at one point she did make a brief appearance. Morgan chased after him and one night broke into his dorms while he was with his girlfriend, Willow. She was killed after trying to wrestle Morgan away from him, and he was bitten by Morgan. Thankfully, he survived, but he did find out that his sister had been turned into a vampire. 

Charlie found him in the dorm shortly after the attack, having gone hunting during a blood bag shortage. They took him to the hospital and then offered him a job as a PA at their church, helping transfer all of his college credit over to the local community college where he is now studying psychology and theology. During his time in Melrose though, he begins attending drag performances at a local club and comes upon a gorgeous drag queen...

Maxime St. Martin / Enzée Bytten

Pronouns: He/him (She/her, in drag)

Occupation: Club Owner/Drag Queen

Bloodline: Vampire, former human, Seraphim Lineage

Maker: Gabriel

Origin: Saint Martin d'Oydes en Ariège Pyrénées, France

Love Interest: Hazel Coldbrook

Maxime was born in a small, self contained village where he did not leave much until his late teens. Unfortunately, the reason why he left was not a matter of simply being sick of the small village life, it was due to a much darker purpose. A man named Gabriel had come to the village and infected the residents with vampirism, causing them all to turn on each other night by night. This was but one prong in a grand scheme to build an entire army of vampiric soldiers indoctrinated with Gabriel’s radical beliefs about humans and vampires. Maxime --being young and impressionable-- followed his Maker in his footsteps, having a sort of love for him that one could only have for a Maker.

As the decades went on, Maxime would turn people he met and attempt to sway them to their side of things, but became infatuated with human culture as he went. Eventually he saw the error of his Maker’s ways and began planning a rebellion against Gabriel. Maxime even managed to convince a human soldier who he had picked up during World War II, who he would then turn after he would get severely injured. You could say the plan went off without a hitch, though there were many casualties and a lot of fighting.

Eventually he would move on to the states where he steadily sunk into his trauma, though he would find a club to make his own in Melrose. There he would build a reputation of being cold and calculating, but as Enzée he is warm and lively -- or rather she is.Le Syndicat is where Maxime would meet Hazel, who had just come to the bar for a drink…

VAMPIRES:

Vampirism, lycanthropy, and magic all come from a single source. Different strains of diseases that all come from one person, who thus far has been lost to history, as well as the war that led to the werewolves and vampires becoming tense with each other. Vampires come from the strain that needs blood to survive, but also an undead host. It attacks all systems aside from the nervous, and shuts most of them down. They do process blood but not in the same way that a human would food. Their waste system is completely cut off and their stomach has become oddly misshapen, different. It ‘digests’ the blood and filters it back through the body so that the vampire can use it as a source of energy when healing, keeping them young, and making sure their body doesn’t rot from the inside out due to their functions being cut off. The disease is parasitic in nature this way, but eventually becomes symbiotic. Vampires need blood to survive and can be affected by blood born illnesses, though never die. At least usually. In the cases of aggressive cancers and autoimmune disorders, it can kill the host, but it’s very rare. Those with vampirism can only be turned after being fed on, drained, and then made to drink the blood of a disease carrying host; be born as a Stillborn, or be born as a fully fledged vampire. They are ever immortal, cannot eat human food unless it has blood in it and even then they cannot eat a lot of it, though this is not the same for liquids, and every bloodline has a ‘feral’ type that is different from another. Reproduction is a bit of an unknown for vampires. There are creatures called Stillborns that are the successful offspring of a vampire and a human, or are the human offspring of a vampire when the disease becomes recessive. Almost always the disease is terminal and it kills them, then resurrects them from the ages 19-31. Scientists think this could be the peak age range for humans healthwise, which is why the disease stops their aging as well at that time. Otherwise, vampires can have offspring with other vampires, however it is unsure how. It could be that their reproduction systems come alive when with a compatible partner, but no one knows for sure and it isn’t full proof. Even so most vampires, just as they will do with humans to prevent possible Stillborns, will wear protection when with other vampires. It is whispered that there are ways a vampire and a werewolf could also have child, but seeing as one is dead and one is alive, that is skepticism at best. Vampires who are born from other vampires age very slowly until that 19-31 age range and then suddenly stop. They can of course be created when one is fed off of or drained, then made to drink the blood of a host. These vampires are called ‘newborns’ and are often very attached to their makers. They acquire a Bond, which is crucial for a newborn, though they don’t always get that treatment from their Maker. A newborn without a Bond will have issues trying to feed and they often become feral. If they do form a Bond, they will feel drawn to their Maker for decades if not for life. Some may need extra care and attention, even touch when they’ve been turned. The stage when a newborn becomes a stable vampire varies from bloodline to bloodline. Becoming feral is usually something a vampire wants to avoid. It happens when they are too hungry and have been starved of blood for too long, or sometimes when they experience very strong emotions. The form of being feral varies from bloodline to bloodline, just as it would for werewolves. When being fed off of a human will feel the pain of the bite but then a euphoria will settle, which is dangerous at times. A pheromone is also given off that makes them smell and taste amazing to a human (such as saliva and skin, this is not a reference to cannibalism lmao), which was once so they could draw in prey to better feed off of. In Melrose, vampires and werewolves live together in a tenuous harmony. Again no one really can point out why they have tension but still that thought has lived on in more traditional, and older people of both kinds. They try not to encroach on the others territory and spaces, and their councils work together along with the human government when needed. Vampires answer to the Vampiric Council of their country when a crime has been committed or they need other governmental help. Currently the hub for vampiric activity is in two parts. St. Januarius’ Cathedral, and Le Syndicat, respectively a church and a nightclub. The church is a safehouse for all werewolves, vampires, and humans , and the nightclub is well...a nightclub. One is ran by a charming but seedy priest, and the other is ran by a cold, but sweet once you worm your way into his heart.

WEREWOLVES:

Werewolves, like stated above in the vampire section, come from one large strain. There was a war a very long time ago but no one really knows that anymore, and there’s just some strain among the more traditional folks. Werewolves can be born with lycanthropy, or they can be turned; though werewolves can have offspring with humans at the normal rate unlike vampires. Their children tend to be hyperactive and need a lot of attention to keep their instincts under control, much like newborn vampires. They burn off a ton of calories and usually need to be on a high calorie diet because of this as well as high in iron, which becomes worse during a full moon. Changing in and out of their forms, whether it be bipedal or all fours, tends to burn off a lot of calories and consume a lot of energy. Werewolf kids need that extra supervision so that they don’t hurt themselves during the night, but they will learn to cope as they get older. Pain management those nights is a must, a lot of werewolves keep a well stocked medicine cabinet. Being turned into a werewolf is not as a rampant problem as people used to think, it never was. Usually they can only turn someone during a full moon when their saliva has more kick to it and is full of the lycanthropic strain, which their body has on a cycle much like a period. However, they can turn someone on the odd night but it’s usually just before or just after a full moon, and they will not get the chance to turn someone during a full moon that time around. Werewolves also often experience PMS like symptoms close to the full moon, no matter what gender they are.

Their hair grows very thick and fast, usually covering their entire body in a peach fuzz and growing more prominent on their arms, chest, pubic area, back, head, etc. Sometimes the back of their hands and feet as well. They see exceptionally well in the dark, usually have the speed and strength to rival vampires, and are always on the taller side. Though there are some exceptions, especially for human born wolves, or those turned into one. Aging is slow for them, some can live up to three hundred years before they pass on. Werewolf society usually comes in the form of a pack, designating an Alpha and Betas (usually two to three) in their own way and coming to them for advice as well as governing matters. They have their own council and converse with the human or vampire government if needed. How they govern is really up to them however, just as it is for vampires. In Melrose there are smaller packs everywhere, and a bigger one out on the edge of town. This pack has recently elected (through a physical challenge of the previous Alpha) Dante Kāne as their Alpha, and he has two Betas : Serj Allgood, and Ty Hacon. The previous Alpha, a man named Gunner, is a very traditional man who put into practice not so great things (drug running, not so safe sex work, etc) but Dante is slowly trying to ease the pack into doing better things.

MAGIC:

Magic is an inherited trait, usually through a distant tie to the strain that gave the world vampirism and lycanthropy, or it is learned. Witches can be born to any human, werewolf, or vampire; though most humans still believe magic to not be real. It can also come in the form of anything, blood magic, rituals, soothsaying, fortune telling, necromancy, green magic, etc. It all exists all at once. Some believe in gods, some don’t, it’s all up to the person.

[miss-spooky-eyes]

OC Inspirations: Devinahl & Indy

I was (delightfully) tagged by @vespertine-legacy​ a while ago and I’ve hesitated to do this because I knew I was going to talk WAY too much - but it was weighing on me, so I decided to open up about the sources from which I stole, that is, drew inspiration for Devinahl and Indirae.

What three fictional characters is your OC a combination of?  

This doesn’t apply to every OC - not even mine - but its certainly true for a few : Many of our characters are, to an extent, inspired by characters we see in movies, books, games, TV shows, etc.

Does this apply to any of your OCs? Was it a conscious decision on your part or not? Is your OC a combination of three (or more) fictional characters?

If so - post some GIFs / pics and tell us about them! What does your OC draw from other characters?

Too much Devinahl & Indy chat after the cut.

DEVINAHL

The truth is that when I came to creating my Imperial Agent Devinahl, and in particular fleshing out her backstory in far, far too much detail, there were some sources that I went to extremely explicitly and deliberately. And chief among them was ...

1. Garak, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

That’s right. Garak from Deep Space Nine. Plain, simple Garak. Outcast. Exile. Spy. Addict. Perennial liar. Patriot. Terrorist. Would-be genocider. Very good tailor.

(If you haven’t seen DS9, then you need to. It’s like Star Trek, but if it was actually good? And Garak is a big part of what elevates it.) 

Is it weird to compare my ancient video game Barbie/gorgeous sex bomb badass assassin and seductress to a cold-blooded space lizard who spends his days hemming pants? Possibly. But there are aspects of Garak’s character that, consciously and unconsciously, I made parts of Devinahl’s DNA. 

Firstly, Garak is a patriot. He loves Cardassia so much that despite seeing its flaws with absolute clarity, despite having been exiled and reviled by it, he would die without question to serve it (of course, he’d much rather make someone else die). And while seeing that as a weakness, despite knowing that the Cardassia he has committed to serving is disappearing before his eyes, there is still a part of him that believes that that commitment - that neverending sacrifice - is noble. The only noble part of him. That’s central to Devinahl’s character (which is, in turn, the way I made sense of the IA storyline). That while hating and despising the Sith, she would nevertheless believe in the Empire - not so much believe that it is good (at best, I think she sees it as order and stability where the Republic is corruption and chaos) as believe that her commitment to it is the only redeeming thing available to her.

Secondly, the way that Garak will take his needs, vulnerabilities, sincere emotions and package them in ways which gets him what he has to have to keep going, without ever giving up full control? Particularly in the extraordinary episode The Wire, in which a dying Garak tells Dr Bashir a series of lies about himself in order to elicit Bashir’s forgiveness, because he needs to be sincerely forgiven but without ever telling the truth?

Out of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren’t? My dear doctor, they’re all true. Even the lies?

That is everything I tried to do with Dev, particularly in my fic about her and SCORPIO, particularly when it comes to her and Arcann. To know what she needs, as Garak needs absolution from Bashir, and tell just enough truth - put herself into just vulnerable enough a position - to get it, but never without reserving something, holding something back, whether it’s the knowledge that she can maneouvre herself out of SCORPIO’s clutches at any time or her real name? That’s a fucking survivor.

Thirdly, the relationship between Devinahl and Sifter (the spymaster who finds her as a traumatised child and grooms her for Intelligence) and specifically, the deathbed scene I wrote in Riddle was directly inspired by Garak’s relationship with Enabran Tain and that death scene. 

Yes, Devinahl was not Sifter’s actual daughter, but in every real sense she was formed by Sifter - and had Sifter had just one day with Dev like Tain had with Garak, Dev would have been lost. She would have turned herself into a carbon copy of Sifter, and she would have died. But the bittersweetness? The acknowledgement that the parental figure you love will never, not even now that they’re dying, love you as you want them to?

‘I should have killed your mother before you were born. You have always been a weakness I can't afford.’ ‘So you've told me. Many times. ...’ ‘Elim, remember that day…in the country. You must've been almost five.’ ‘How can I forget it? It was the only day.’

(The love and infinite sadness with which Andrew Robinson says that line, ‘It was the only day’? I’m crying just thinking about it. Anyway, it was everything I was thinking about and wanted to achieve in that scene.)

Oh ... and Devinahl’s ambiguous relationship with her implants? Well, Garak also has an implant in his head. And that’s all I’m saying about that.

2. Oryx from Oryx & Crake by Margaret Atwood

A novel character rather than from TV or movies, I hope that’s OK. And I know that there are ... very problematic elements to the way Atwood writes about Oryx, her family, her culture, her background. But she was one of the strongest elements that went into creating Devinahl and her backstory.

There were specific aspects of the story Oryx tells to Jimmie - particularly the parts about being told to scream and make a fuss if a man tries to take you away to a hotel room, and then being told not to make a fuss when a man tries to take you away to a hotel room - that became part of Dev’s story. But there was also a general attitude and way of looking at life I wanted to capture and incorporate. Oryx’s philosophy of value?

Of course (said Oryx), having a money value was no substitute for love. Every child should have love, every person should have it. . . . but love was undependable, it came and then it went, so it was good to have a money value, because then at least those who wanted to make a profit from you would make sure you were fed enough and not damaged too much. Also there were many who had neither love nor a money value, and having one of these things was better than having nothing.

I wanted to create a character who could look at life and suffering and abuse, even her own, and view it in that dispassionate way which horrifies someone from my middle-class Western background - and then I wanted to test that idea, to bring it up against SCORPIO and have SCORPIO try to break it down with torture, to see if it was just a cool facade/necessary illusion. I wimped out of really testing that belief, instead having Dev always know that she could get out of her situation/having her find a way to be loved without truly having to sacrifice her protective patterns ... but if I was a little braver and better, I’d have tested it to breaking point. How far can a character go who thinks like that while still remaining, on some level, compassionate/human/likeable?

3. Saffron (Firefly)

I could have gone Black Widow (definitely the inspiration for Dev’s aesthetic in terms of outfit etc). But the plain truth is that I thought more about Saffron while dreaming up Devinahl/writing her backstory than I did about Black Widow (yes, Widow turned her weakness into strength in a manipulative fashion all the time, but Garak did it better, and other than that she mainly looked after boys in a way that I did not want Dev to be limited to). 

Firefly, for a show that had - what - 13 episodes? - exercises far too much of a hold on my imagination and Saffron, especially in the first episode in which she appeared, was such a tremendous character. The way that she found exactly the triggers to turn each member of the crew inside out? (And if she’d had more time, it absolutely would have worked on Wash and Inara, too - it only didn’t because she had to hurry.) Dev has that. I can’t write it, because I suck, but she has it. 

Oh, and nobody will ever know Devinahl’s real name (apart from you, if you read my fic about her backstory) and she’d die before letting you know it. That’s straight from Saffron. As is, I suppose, the man who would accept her just as she is without needing to push to know her secrets, except it worked out a little better for Dev and Arcann than it did for Yolanda and Durran Haymer because Dev and Arcann will always have pegging.

INDIRAE

(This will be a lot shorter than the section on Devinahl, I promise.)

1. Steve Rogers, Captain America (and whatever else)

I have never been super into the MCU, but the key reference I used to find a way into Indy’s character, back when she was nothing more than a cool-looking Cathar Bounty Hunter, was Steve Rogers. (November can attest to this)

Indy’s physical size - she’s six foot if she’s an inch, and big - is key to her personality, but equally key is the idea that she would always experience that size as uncomfortable and slightly alien to her. Like Steve Rogers, she started out as the scrawny kid always getting beat up by everybody ... And when she got her strength (with a hefty assist from the toxic waste run-off into what was her family’s only source of water) and suddenly got TALL and STRONG? She did not like bullies - which was what led her to help Coda out of a jam at the spacesport and started them on their road.

(If there’s a better way to play the BH storyline than as a stone-cold mercenary with an utterly unwilling heart of gold ... then I don’t know about it.)

2. Xena, Xena Warrior Princess

I’ll be completely fucking straight with anybody about this (so to speak): I love Xena, I had an obsession with it as a teenager I’m still unpacking, and the show tends to feed into my characters in an ... odd way.

Indy is physically imposing like Xena, is the main thing; and her dynamic with Coda owes a lot to Xena’s with Gabrielle (although Coda is as big and tough as Indy, she is the fast talker/smooth operator to Indy’s laconic strongman). I wanted Indy to dominate action scenes the way that Xena does, be that kind of a force of nature; and watch her struggle to find ways to channel that charisma, to need Coda’s help to understand how to do it.

3. Dottie Henson, A League of Their Own

OK, first of all, I do not want to hear any kind of mockery. This is, unironically, one of my favourite films of all time.

Again, we come back to the core theme of a character struggling with her own greatness/potential. That’s what is the most fascinating through-line of A League of Their Own: Dottie, this unbelievable baseball player/physical presence (yes, she’s very tall, just like Indy) who is so terrified to admit that she wants anything more than her smalltown life and dreadful husband, even while the evidence of her talent and passion for the game is burning up these ... fields? Diamonds? I don’t know baseball apart from this film.

Indy certainly hides behind not wanting to be a bounty hunter. She doesn’t believe in any Mandalorian nonsense about romanticising what is an unglamorous job. She’s just doing it for credits and afterwards, once she’s secured her family’s future, she’s totally going to go home and settle down in some acceptable, domestic way. Being on the Mantis with Coda, it’s absolutely just a means to an end. She doesn’t want to be there, she doesn’t care about it, it’s not who she is, she doesn’t need it. This life, the adventure, the freedom, the fighting for survival, it’s certainly not what gets inside her and what lights her up, no, not at all. 

Oh, and Dottie is also a reluctant leader. She doesn’t see why her talent should put her in the position of telling other people what to do - but then, on the other hand, she sees so clearly what they need to be doing, and when she says to do it, they listen. She doesn’t want to carry this team, but they’re only a team so long as she carries them.

(Don’t worry, Coda’s not going to let her lie to herself for too long.)

[spacelessbian]

Harvey, Roz and Theo in Part 3

Basically everyone I talked to in the fandom (which is not everyone obviously, as I know the majority of younger fans probably has a different opinion on that), regardless of their opinion on CAOS Part 3 as a whole, agreed that the time spent on human teenage characters was boring and just taking the precious time the writers could have given to say Mary or Zelda. And this is the reason why.

In Part 1 and 2, all the teenage characters had their distinct arcs and real problems they had to deal with: 

Harvey’s brother died, his father was an abusive alcoholic, he had to deal with Sabrina (and everyone needs a break when they have to deal with Sabrina), 

Roz was dealing with the inevitability of going blind and the discovery of her family’s special abilities, 

Theo was finding their place in the world and coming out to themselves and others, plus being bullied. 

All of these were interesting, emotional, relatable and it was fun to watch. Even though I didn’t care about them most of the time, when they were on screen, I cared. 

Now what do we have in Part 3... 

Harvey is doing fine, he has friends, a nice girlfriend and a father who doesn’t treat him like shit. In Part 3 he doesn’t go through anything new but the re-hash of “am I still into Sabrina” dilemma. He stumbles upon a fake of his dead brother in hell but he gets over it in five minutes.

Roz was magically healed in Part 2, has friends, a nice boyfriend, a good grasp of the cunning. She doesn’t evolve further, there is no other conflict in her. Her grandma taunting her in hell doesn’t affect her beyond that one scene.

Theo is happy with themself, has a good relationship with the jocks who bullied them before and gets a boyfriend. Yes, the boyfriend turns out to be with the evil pagans but he doesn’t betray Theo and helps the trio and Sabrina without much hesitation. Theo is on his side the whole time. Again, no conflict. 

Collectively the only thing that is important to them in Part 3 beyond being Sabrina’s props is having sex. And they have it (or I think they do, I don’t care about that). They also start a band. Why. The absolute lack of conflict and personal or interpersonal drama is the reason why watching Harvey, Roz and Theo this season was boring. Actually, correction, watching Theo being happy with Robin was cute, but was it enough? I don’t think so.

And just to be clear – I don’t want any of them to suffer, that is not the point of this. But I want them to do something, to have motivations, needs and desires (beyond the desire to not be killed). If they don’t have that, what is even the point of looking at them.