#that's on top of two other studios and a lecture

[soliusss]

Chat I may have made a grave mistake taking 4 studios as a natural overachiever its time to lock the fuck in

[fans4wga]

"The studios thought they could handle a strike. They might end up sparking a revolution"

by Mary McNamara

"If you want to start a revolution, tell your workers you’d rather see them lose their homes than offer them fair wages. Then lecture them about how their “unrealistic” demands are “disruptive” to the industry, not to mention disturbing your revels at Versailles, er, Sun Valley.

Honestly, watching the studios turn one strike into two makes you wonder whether any of their executives have ever seen a movie or watched a television show. Scenes of rich overlords sipping Champagne and acting irritated while the crowd howls for bread rarely end well for the Champagne sippers.

This spring, it sometimes seemed like the Hollywood studios represented by the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers were actively itching for a writers’ strike. Speculations about why, exactly, ran the gamut: Perhaps it would save a little money in the short run and show the Writers Guild of America (perceived as cocky after its recent ability to force agents out of the packaging business) who’s boss.

More obviously, it might secure the least costly compromise on issues like residuals payments and transparency about viewership.

But the 20,000 members of the WGA are not the only people who, having had their lives and livelihoods upended by the streaming model, want fair pay and assurances about the use of artificial intelligence, among other sticking points. The 160,000 members of the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists share many of the writers’ concerns. And recent unforced errors by studio executives, named and anonymous, have suddenly transformed a fight the studios were spoiling for into a public relations war they cannot win.

Even as SAG-AFTRA representatives were seeing a majority of their demands rejected despite a nearly unanimous strike vote, a Deadline story quoted unnamed executives detailing a strategy to bleed striking writers until they come crawling back.

Days later, when an actors’ strike seemed imminent, Disney Chief Executive Bob Iger took time away from the Sun Valley Conference in Idaho not to offer compromise but to lecture. He told CNBC’s David Faber that the unions’ refusal to help out the studios by taking a lesser deal is “very disturbing to me.”

“There’s a level of expectation that they have that is just not realistic,” Iger said. “And they are adding to the set of the challenges that this business is already facing that is, quite frankly, very disruptive.”

If Iger thought his attempt to exec-splain the situation would make actors think twice about walking out, he was very much mistaken. Instead, he handed SAG-AFTRA President Fran Drescher the perfect opportunity for the kind of speech usually shouted atop the barricades.

“We are the victims here,” she said Thursday, marking the start of the actors’ strike. “We are being victimized by a very greedy entity. I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with are treating us. I cannot believe it, quite frankly: How far apart we are on so many things. How they plead poverty, that they’re losing money left and right, when giving hundreds of millions of dollars to their CEOs. It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment.”

Cue the cascading strings of “Les Mis,” bolstered by images of the most famous people on the planet walking out in solidarity: the cast of “Oppenheimer” leaving the film’s London premiere; the writers and cast of “The X-Files” reuniting on the picket line.

A few days later, Barry Diller, chairman and senior executive of IAC and Expedia Group and a former Hollywood studio chief, suggested that studio executives and top-earning actors take a 25% pay cut to bring a quick end to the strikes and help prevent “the collapse of the entire industry.”

When Diller is telling executives to take a pay cut to avoid destroying their industry, it is no longer a strike, or even two strikes. It is a last-ditch attempt to prevent le déluge.

Yes, during the 2007-08 writers’ strike, picketers yelled noncomplimentary things at executives as they entered their respective lots. (“What you earnin’, Chernin?” was popular at Fox, where Peter Chernin was chairman and chief executive.) But that was before social media made everything more immediate, incendiary and personal. (Even if they have never seen a movie or TV show, one would think that people heading up media companies would understand how media actually work.)

Even at the most heated moments of the last writers’ strike, executives like Chernin and Iger were seen as people who could be reasoned with — in part because most of the executives were running studios, not conglomerations, but mostly because the pay gap between executives and workers, in Hollywood and across the country, had not yet widened to the reprehensible chasm it has since.

Now, the massive eight- and nine-figure salaries of studio heads alongside photos of pitiably small residual checks are paraded across legacy and social media like historical illustrations of monarchs growing fat as their people starve. Proof that, no matter how loudly the studios claim otherwise, there is plenty of money to go around.

Topping that list is Warner Bros. Discovery Chief Executive Davd Zaslav. Having re-named HBO Max just Max and made cuts to the beloved Turner Classic Movies, among other unpopular moves, Zaslav has become a symbol of the cold-hearted, highly compensated executive that the writers and actors are railing against.

The ferocious criticism of individual executives’ salaries has placed Hollywood’s labor conflict at the center of the conversation about growing wealth disparities in the U.S., which stokes, if not causes, much of this country’s political divisions. It also strengthens the solidarity among the WGA and SAG-AFTRA and with other groups, from hotel workers to UPS employees, in the midst of disputes during what’s been called a “hot labor summer.”

Unfortunately, the heightened antagonism between studio executives and union members also appears to leave little room for the kind of one-on-one negotiation that helped end the 2007-08 writers’ strike. Iger’s provocative statement, and the backlash it provoked, would seem to eliminate him as a potential elder statesman who could work with both sides to help broker a deal.

Absent Diller and his “cut your damn salaries” plan, there are few Hollywood figures with the kind of experience, reputation and relationships to fill the vacuum.

At this point, the only real solution has been offered by actor Mark Ruffalo, who recently suggested that workers seize the means of production by getting back into the indie business, which is difficult to imagine and not much help for those working in television.

It’s the AMPTP that needs to heed Iger’s admonishment. At a time when the entertainment industry is going through so much disruption, two strikes is the last thing anyone needs, especially when the solution is so simple. If the studios don’t want a full-blown revolution on their hands, they’d be smart to give members of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA contracts they can live with."

[aseaofyoongi]

just desserts | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: one night stand; neighbors; set in the summer cause i miss it dearly.

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: jungkook is your next door neighbor who you have only crossed a few words with. however one hot summer day theres a city wide blackout and strangely enough, he shows up at your door w brownies. . and other delights.

warnings: crush culture; mentions of lack of confidence; masturbation (f.); foul language; naughty thoughts; penetrative sex; unprotected sex (wrap it up); dry humping; oral (m. receiving); praise; sub-ish jk!; jk has a huge dick;?brief mention of seokjin and joon; oc is very hørny for jk basically; those fucking gifs of jk w his long hair and glasses inspired this so thank you jeon jungkook; edited but excuse any mistakes please.

word count: 6,3 thousand words

posted: monday - january 30, 2023

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A sixth floor walk up in the middle of the scorching month of July was certainly not fitting on your basis of an ideal home. But after your extensive apartment search always ended with high-priced, rodent infested corners New Yorkers often mistook for apartments, you were happy to shake on the deal for this studio apartment with Seokjin without having to break your piggy bank or burn a staggering hole in your pocket.

“When is the elevator going to be fixed, Seokjin,” you fanned yourself as beads of sweat adorned your white tank top.

“That’ll have to be when I finally win the lotto,” he guffawed from behind the plexiglass square standing between you and his office.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, beginning your journey up the stairs. He didn’t hear you though, instead his focus remained on whichever drama he played on the television.

Kim Seokjin, was the name of a superstar—or so he says. He claims to have attended the Juilliard School for about two years, with dreams of becoming the newest face of Hollywood and all of their high-priced productions. When Seokjin’s dad fell ill, he couldn’t keep up with the demands of keeping so many residence buildings open, he had to close more than half his buildings and just like that, financial strains created a hurdle the size of Mt. Everest in the life of Seokjin. He was left without his dreams, without his father and taking care of a building where the rent was too cheap to gain a profit, making just enough to cover the mortgage.

Normally, you weren’t so exposed to details of your landlord’s lives, but Seokjin was different. He was also your friend.

“I put water bottles around the halfway mark. The last thing I need is a lawsuit over a dead body,” he yelled up as you barely made it to floor two.

“How considerate. I’ll try not to die while you’re on the clock,” it was too hot to continue your journey up. . too hot to form coherent sentences. You just wanted to make it to your apartment and sit in front of the fan for the rest of the day.

“That’s all I’m saying,” you heard.

Once your foot met the landing on the third floor, your eyes desperately scanned for the promise of beverages Seokjin had informed you of, but the small table set-up on the other end of the hallway was completely empty. Leaving behind only the particles of dust and pure oxygen to inhale. Fuck—you actually felt like you were going to pass out. Just three more floors.

You wanted to yell down a snarky remark towards Seokjin but you figured that required too much energy you simply did not have.

Moving to New York was a decision you had made impulsively after feeling like you had overstayed your time in your parents house post-high school. You averted college at all costs because it just wasn’t for you. Lectures seemed like a bore and professors were individuals being paid to legally torture their students so you joyfully averted that nightmare all together. Your immediate option was to get a job, but after many places began getting closed down back home, you found yourself job hopping as a means for survival.

It was not convenient, so you boarded a train to the city that never sleeps in hopes of never looking back. . And you haven’t since setting foot here eleven months ago.

“Just one more floor,” you uttered to no one in particular but the patchy silver handrail and the chipped white walls.

Your apartment was now in your line of vision and the only thing standing between you and the black steel door were just ten sets of stairs. Walking into the building your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat but now you were drenched, your top was sticking to your skin and the thick beads of dampness rolled down your body like the condensation on soft drinks from fast food places.

Heaving with exhaustion you took a seat on the very last step of the sixth floor, finally you made it but you just needed a minute, just a single minute to catch your breath. The fucking heat was unbearable; intolerable; irregular, you could have sworn the sun inched closer and closer to planet earth as the day progressed.

Initially, you hadn’t heard as much as the squeaky hinges on the door frame, you were too divulged in your suffering from the days heat. Not to mention, your eyes were closed and you were too focused in a state of cooling down before hiding behind the thin walls of your apartment.

“Are you ok?” His voice became trapped in the muggy air surrounding the two of you. The bass in his tone never ceased to make your knees turn to jello, to make your toes curl and to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.

Was the heat not enough suffering for one day?

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

“Yeah, it definitely feels like we were shipped straight to hell today.”

“I don’t know, I think hell might be cooler than this,” he chuckled lightly—you’re foolish stammer and poor excuse of words enlightened him. The sun was still beaming brightly but you swore you saw stars after he had serenaded you so sweetly with the sound of his infectious laugh.

“I think you might be right,” he locked his door and walked past you on the stairs, “have a good day neighbor.”

“You too, Jungkook,” you called after him as he began his way down the unfortunate set of stairs.

Sometimes, you felt as if you’d been blessed as the main lead in the plot of a cheesy rom com, but after today the idea was really cemented in your head. Ok, look. . Jungkook was your hot neighbor, like very hot, unearthly hot, like he was handcrafted by God himself, kind of hot. Furthermore, only you and him resided on the sixth floor, living in a pair of tiny apartments right beside one another. Although that was all you had gathered so far, besides his name, it was enough to fill your head with delusions and daydreams of the man your eyes loved to gawk at every chance you got.

You read him very well, like the everlasting pages of your favorite novel. His silky hair was long and inched over the nape of his neck, he wore specs that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose accentuating his big doe eyes. Though his features seemed soft his aura was borderline the complete opposite—a silver hooped piercing sat in the right side of his rosette lips while tattoos peeked right out of the sleeves of the white button up he usually wore.

You closed the door to your apartment, removed your shoes and hung your keys on the flathead thumbtack pierced into the wall by the front door.

The apartment felt even more scorching than the bustling sidewalks. After opening all three of the windows you were bestowed to have between your room and the living room, you turned on your fan and walked into the bathroom to draw a much needed cool bath. Stripping off your sweaty clothes, you stepped into the tub. For a minute, you were immersed in the utter silence floating around you—all your ears detected was the distanced whirring fan all the way from your room.

Behind the back of your eyelids, the world was dark and your thoughts brought you back to your encounters with Jungkook on the stairs just moments ago. Your interactions with the boy were usually extended to a whispered, ‘hi’ or ‘hello,’ never as prolonged as it played out today.

In your thoughts, Jungkook strolled by day and night, as you embraced every look, every utterance, every single time he brushed his hair back using his slender fingers. He was the cultivation of your desires and the reason why your heart strummed against your chest a bit harder the days you saw him leaving around 12PM every afternoon.

It baffled you how he always managed to look fucking good every single day—even during the hottest days of the summer, while you looked like vile beast he managed to look so perfect.

. . So fucking perfect.

The faint tingles traveling through your body, caused your skin to form goosebumps. The pulsation of your clit is what really began driving you to clouded thoughts to imagine his hands against you. You imagined the pads of his fingers to be soft mimicking a delicate velvet fabric and while you crumbled under his touch, he would murmur the filthiest of words against your ear.

Those ministrations could be enough to have you coming hard—he wouldn’t even have to fuck you. Shit, even looking at him was enough.

Being away from all of the toys you safely stored in your nightstand, you grabbed the detachable shower head and adjusted the water pressure, prepped your feet up on the rim of the tub aiming it in between your legs in an inevitable attack against your clit.

Your head lulled back in sure bliss as you fed your carnal desires, the only thing missing was him.

“Fuck—” How you longed for him to have you in this position, so sensitive to his sinful doings; so aroused for him. It was like a hunger your fingers, toys and this stupid shower head could not satisfy.

The vibration of his name dripped from your lips like a chant and you felt that bubbling fervor form in the pit of your stomach. Spurts of pleasure rushed out of you so intensely you were overwhelmed by the explosions of fireworks as soon as your orgasm erupted.

When your breath had settled and you finally felt like you could stand, you opted for a quick shower, rushing to get into your pajamas and plopped down on your bed right in-front of the fan for a nap, having your dreams quickly invaded by him.

Work sucked on Monday afternoons.

All you ever did was stare out of the ticket booth at the movie theater as the few customers who despised the weekend rush came in. Besides, there was rarely anything to occupy your mind with on slow nights like this. You had already sweeped and your co-worker, Namjoon was surveying the screening rooms for any shenanigans the younger crowds could possibly be rattling up.

You always left that up to him—he was the more intimidating one between the two of you anyway.

“Room 5 is a wreck,” Namjoon announced his entrance into the lobby, “I’m gonna go clean up.”

“Walkie me if you need help,” you tapped the walkie clipped onto your belt buckle and he nodded, grabbing the broom and a few rags.

Your stomach grew irritated as you continued golfing down copious amounts of candies but the truth was you were starving and had no time to eat breakfast this morning; let alone make something to bring to work to eat for lunch.

Namjoon was a film major. He was the spitting image of a cliche by the way—his parents wanted him to become a doctor but that wasn’t his passion so he ran away to the city and began trotting up the golden stairs to his dream. You wished you had even an ounce of his determination, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there while you still stood at the base of the mountain of your life. . unbeknownst on how to tackle it or which way it was to begin your way up to the summit.

There was nothing you had a passion for and quite frankly sometimes you were utterly clueless as to what your purpose was in life.

Had no dreams and no goals to strive towards; nothing extraordinary you expected to blossom in your future. There was nothing, nothing and more nothingness occupying the hours of your days.

“My child,” Seokjin walked in through the glass door, he looked like he'd been chilling in an oven.

“Seokjin,” you narrowed your eyes in his direction, “what are you doing here? I thought you never left the air conditioner in your office plus don’t you hate the movie theater?”

“You’re absolutely correct. The dimmed lighting here is horrid and I deserve better than that. .”

“Of course, you do.”

“But,” he leaned over the counter, “I saw your little neighbor boyfriend leaving the building today and I was fucking gagged.”

“Trust me, Seokjin. I know how good he fucking looks in that white button up. I’ve lived it.”

“No,” he squealed, “He had a black short sleeve shirt today and—”

“Spit it out, bitch.”

“He has a full fucking sleeve,” he squealed.

“No. Fucking. Way.” The pauses in between your words were not placed for dramatic effect—you were in fact attempting to paint a detailed mental image of that sinful man.

How unfair is it that he gets to walk around us mortals with our average looks while he exudes such grand flawlessness.

“Looks like someone owes me fifty bucks.”

The bet. . you had completely forgotten about that.

“I'll pass it over on Friday once I get paid.”

“I told you,” he began, “once a man gets one tattoo they’re usually covered in them.”

“Yea, but he has this soft look to him, you know?” you shrugged, “I thought he might have had a few. But a whole sleeve?”

“Jungkook is a walking juxtaposition.”

“I suppose he is.”

Seokjin sat on the counter emptying a handful of sweets into his palm, “what are you doing eating all of this candy anyway?”

“Uh,” your thoughts were still filtered towards Jungkook. You wanted to see him so bad, “I’m starving and just waiting on Namjoon to finish cleaning room five so I can go on my lunch break.”

“Namjoon as in the buff hottie with the deep voice?”

“I guess.”

“Room five?” You nodded.

“I’ll take one ticket for whatever the fuck you guys are showing right now.”

“Didn’t you say you hated it here?” You printed a ticket to. . you looked down, to the latest minion movie and ripped off the top half, “you complained about the lights or something.”

“Can you just give me a ticket? I need it to execute my master plan,” he rushed your actions in cutting the ticket you had printed, “besides you owe me for coming all the way down here with vital intel about your secret crush.”

“I owe you nothing. I’ll be paying half a hundred for that by the end of the week, remember?”

“Consider this,” he snatched the ticket from your grasp, holding it beside his toothy grin, “your down payment.”

Before you could form a further argument, Seokjin vanished from in front of you and sprinted down the main hallway to screening room five.

The best thing about your job were the designated days off you had throughout the week. Tuesdays and Fridays were yours to enjoy and while today was Tuesday your schedule was still jam packed with an abundance of errands to complete come the early morning.

You had paid your utility bills, finished your laundry, cleaned your apartment and even set out poultry to defrost by the time you made it back home. It had been a very productive day.

Your last stop was the grocery store.

Oftentimes, you’d wander aimlessly, losing yourself in each aisle wondering about how the better half lives, how much better life would be if you didn’t have to keep incessant reminders of your weekly budgets stamped to the back of your head.

How much easier life would be if money wasn’t such a big determinant in the choices we were forced to make in our day to day lives.

Oh, how much easier life would be.

You only grabbed the essentials for the next couple of weeks including—rice, greens, fruits, water, milk, meat, and a variation of breakfast options.

Temptation roamed in the air as you headed out of the cereal aisle you were face to face with a bakery section where an unhealthy amount of baked goods were sprawled out—practically blaring out your name. All of the delicious delights made your mouth water and you couldn’t help but gravitate deeper and deeper, guided by the aroma of the sweet desserts.

“Neighbor?” It was his earthy voice, the same one you’d only heard vibrate among the walls of the tiny hallway of the sixth floor the two of you shared.

“Jungkook?” You looked up from the brownies and your eyes met his figure, in the same clothes you usually saw him leave his apartment. It was his work uniform, “You work here?”

“Is that judgment in your tone I hear?”

“N-no,” You stammered. Was he fucking with you? He had to be fucking with you. “Of course not. I would never judge—”

“I was just playing, neighbor.” Phew.

“I always come here. How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“I’m usually baking in the back. I was just coming out to set these down,” he held up the dozen cupcakes sitting inside the boxed packaging.

“You bake?” Hopefully, you sounded more stunned than judgemental because you were i. fact stunned.

“I’m an aspiring pastry chef. I go to culinary school,” Jungkook, your beautiful, doe eyed, tattooed, pierced neighbor was also a baker. Ok.

For some reason that made him so much more attractive.

“I would not have been able to guess that even if I tried,” You mentally kicked yourself at the lack of filter in your words. You weren’t trying to offend him and hopefully he does not take it as such.

He chuckled—that’s a good sign, “People tend to simulate that very reaction but you can certainly knock on my door if you’re ever craving something sweet. I promise they are amazing.”

Craving something sweet?

Your thoughts traveled back to the enticing thoughts you possessed a few days ago while you took a bath, the vivid image of the water pressure against your cunt and the pure desire to have him near made you dizzy. And now he was near, just a couple of feet away.

A wave of warmth traveled through your extremities, the pulse on your clit turned to an overbearing throb, you wanted to rub your thighs and alleviate the feeling. But you remembered where you were, in the middle of the grocery store and Jungkook still stood right before you. Nevertheless, you tried to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs; dampening your panties.

“I practically poured out all of the basic details of my boring life. I think you owe me at least something about you.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you shrugged, “but I work at the movie theater down the street if that piques your interest at all.”

“It does. I love movies.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there before.”

“Well, if I’m honest I haven’t gone in a long time but that’s only because work and school keep me pretty busy.”

The lust streaming through your body doubled to make your heart beat with fondness and you grew endeared in the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up when he talked about his aspirations to become a baker.

“You’ll have a free ticket waiting for you whenever your schedule clears up.”

“Promise you’ll join me when I decide to go.” His words carved themselves into your brain like a permanent tattoo, just as those decorating his arm. The fluttering feeling in your abdomen heightened as a result of the dithers, without being aware of it, that is the effect Jungkook had on you.

“As long as it’s on a Tuesday or Friday.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“See you, neighbor.”

Thursday was the worst day of the week so far.

Technically you were supposed to be at work, it was already 4:00PM, but instead you were still home. Even just sitting down in the muggy atmosphere of your in the miniscule space, you were doused, staining your clothes with sweat.

You were not willingly suffering at the lack of mercy the scorching weather subjected the city and everyone in it to, unfortunately the power had gone out. And while usually you had the luxury of a fan to cool down, today you had nothing.

Your windows and front door were left wide open in an attempt to cool down the place and still you felt as if you were sitting inside a fucking oven set to hightest temperature. There was no use.

“Neighbor.” Jungkook called out lightly knocking on the opened door.

Jungkook? Not Jungkook again when you looked like an absolute wreck.

“Hey Jungkook,” he stood at the door frame, a wide grin painted on his lips—he held a to-go box in his hands, “you can come in.”

“Do you want me to shut the door?”

“Sure,” you gave in, it’s not like it was actually doing anything. Besides, the last thing you needed was one of the crazy residents from the lower floors coming to bug you.

Jungkook took a seat next to you on the couch, he wore a sleeveless top exposing all of the ink embellishing his skin, every line, every curve, every word was so intricate and seemed so unique to him.

“I didn’t know you had these many tattoos,” a small fib was a price to pay to not seem like a weirdo, “did any of them hurt?”

“Some did,” he pointed at his tricep, “mainly these and a few others but I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Well, they’re beautiful,” you scanned his arm some more. It was truly like a mural embodying the beauty of art, “were you a singer?” you signaled at the microphone sitting on his forearm.

“I guess you could say that,” he adjusted himself on the couch, his nylon shorts rode up his thighs and you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes glanced down constantly. Jungkook didn’t notice though, he was too busy averting eye contact and scratching the back of his head, “My highschool friends and I used to make music. We recorded a mixtape.”

“I need a link to this mixtape. . like now,” You laughed hysterically.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Ok, ok,” Again, another surprise from the man you thought you had all figured out—every single day he surprised you more and more, “were you like a vocalist or a rapper?”

“Vocals mostly. I did try rapping once though but I sucked so badly they scratched it off the track.”

“At least they were honest and didn't let you crash and burn in public.”

“You should’ve seen me though. I thought I was the shit.”

Jungkooks giggles were everlasting as he recounted the many times their parents grew exhausted of kicking them out of their garages for their disturbances in the making of their great musical legacy.. He filled the room with vibrance. The longer you sat in the presence of Jungkook the more you were exposed to the colors that made Jungkook, Jungkook. Of course, you were intrigued by the phosphorescent hues allowing them to inch you closer in his direction. Wanting him to spare no details in the adventure of his life.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the packaging box beside him on the arm rest.

“Brownies,” he handed you the box, “I saw you eyeing them when you were at the bakery but you didn’t buy any. So, I figured I would bring you some.”

In your mind, this was his way of saying he was thinking about you—that’s what you chose to believe anyway.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I wanna see what you think of my baking.” Jungkook’s eyes were bigger than usual behind his specs, he fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.

If only he knew, the actual taste of the brownies would hold no significance in your criticism. You would love them anyway simply because they came from him.

“How about we have one together?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “let’s go to my room. There’s two windows in there and I’m literally about to pass out from heat stroke out here.”

The two of you sat by each one of the windows, the box of his remaining six hand crafted sweet delicacies sat between the two of you on the nightstand.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

“1, 2,” the two of you held the chocolaty dessert up to your mouth, “3.”

Even after just one bite your taste buds were enamored.

“What do you think?”

“They’re amazing, Jungkook. You’re an amazing baker.”

“You can call me Kookie, you know.”

You nearly choked after taking another bite, hurdling into a coughing spiral, “that’s so fitting. Kookie the pastry chef.”

“Forget I said it,” he shook his head, laughing.

“Wait, no,” you loved the soft tint of pink dusting his cheeks, “that could be the name of your future shop.”

“Kookie’s Cookies.”

“Kookie’s Cookies,” you confirmed, “and I wanna be credited for the idea too.”

“Better yet, you’ll be my business partner.”

“That’s not a good idea. I’ll eat everything and you’ll just end up bankrupt,” your eyes were set on the congested sidewalks outside your window—everyone was out likely catching a break from their scorching apartments but here you were melting away all at the expense of being in Jungkook’s company just for a bit longer.

“I wouldn’t mind as long as you’re with me.”

Those eight words sent your mind into a spiral, head first into the rabbit hole of your fantasies. You couldn’t really make out if he truly meant what you thought he meant.

“Jungkook. .”

“I mean it.”

“Please don’t make me believe there could actually be something here,” Your voice was low and your thoughts were a scribbled mess. There was not a single coherency in your being at that point in time.

“I’m not lying,” your name tasted saccharine on his tinted lips—much like the brownie he had baked for you, “I like you.”

“Jungkook. .” was all you could muster.

“I’ve liked you from the moment you moved into the building.”

A single strike of thunder traveled down your spinal cord, you felt paralyzed in that moment and his sweet sweet words just continued looping inside the walls of your skull.

You were malfunctioning; shocked.

It’s astonishing how oblivious and just plain stupid human nature can make a person. For the past months, you had concealed the schoolgirl crush you developed on Jungkook and convinced yourself that there was absolutely no way in hell he could like you back.

Your insecurities had deceived you and now you sit here after so long with a thumping beat in your heart, giddy with excitement and lowkey wanting to slap yourself for not having noticed earlier.

“You like me?”

Obviously, he just fucking said that. He nodded.

“I like you, too.” You finally said out loud.

The temperature continued to rise in the small bedroom and between the two of you the heat became unbearable. With each passing second, you could feel the streamline trickles of your sweat cascading down your temples; your entire body matter of fact.

If eyes were the windows to the soul then Jungkook’s chocolate gaze was compelling.

And they were calling out for you so loudly.

“What happens now?” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

“Can I kiss you, Jungkook?”

You caught on to Jungkook’s mannerisms and body language rather quickly within the past hour. For example, he was pretty straight forward with his words yet whenever he spoke his fingers fidgeted with a random object as a distraction, this time it was the black beaded bracelet sitting on his wrist.

He nodded yet again.

Your heaven resided in the comfort of Jungkook’s thighs. You realized it the moment you straddled him. The rich smell of sandalwood was a scent unique to him, so earthy and rich. It was the only thing you ever wanted to smell for the remainder of your time on earth.

After raking your hands through his soft hair you tugged at it a bit, guiding his face up towards you.

“If you want anything from me. You’re gonna have to use your words, Jungkook.”

“You know what I want,” his eyes traced the corners of your lips down to the intricate details, “just kiss me, please.”

There are an abundance of perfect scenarios in life. For one there was the idyllic scene of snowfall on Christmas day; the legendary creamy combination of cookies and cream; then, there was the way your lips danced against Jungkooks, composing a choreography so intricate and beautiful only the two of you could execute it.

You were in a haze, entirely stupefied and addicted to his soft and warm lips. Then, his hands snaked around your waist as he guided you back and forth on his lap. His covered erection rubbed against your clothed slit in a pace so slow, it was agonizing yet delectable. Jungkook pulled away, continuing to lead your movements against him. Your mouth remained agape and you couldn’t help the sounds escaping your lips.

You wanted to pinch yourself, you’d only ever dreamt of this. Was this all a fabrication of your dreams? You hope it wasn’t, it felt so good.

“God, I’ve always wanted to have you like this.” His voice was husk and he spoke in between grunts.

If today was dictated as your last day on earth, you’d die being the happiest woman.

His warm breath fanned your sweaty neck. A tickle ran down your back but you focused on the knot forming at your abdomen.

“I’m so close.”

“Let go for me.”

His commands were sweet like candy and the utters of his guidance to have you crumble on his lap were all you needed to send you over the edge.

“You were so good for me, darling.”

“Call me that forever.” Your knees were sore, your voice was hoarse and you were sweltered from head to toe but you craved more, you grew wetter just imagining what else could arise from this encounter.

“Darling?” You nodded. “Jungkook?” He hummed lightly, opening his eyes and lifting his head from where it rested on the wall.

“Are you tired?”

“I just had a long day yesterday.”

“Can I help you unwind?” your lower lip now tucked under your teeth, “can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Your hands tucked under the hemline of his shorts and underwear. The way you illustrated Jungkook in your dreams was close to what you would imagine a modern Greek God to look like and you quickly realized that was the case when his shirt lifted revealing that he should be the one on display in museums instead of those silly little statues.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, while your hand moved up and down the length of his cock. You couldn’t see it, not yet. But he felt so big in your palm.

The hushed moans and curses leaving him fueled you to maintain at the same pace. Your lips found themselves leaving wet kisses on his already dampened neck.

“Please—please don’t stop,” He was a stuttering mess, his hand was gripping the window still so tightly his knuckles turned white. Hypnotized by arousal Jungkook began meeting your movements, enraptured by his desire for release.

“You’re not being a very good boy, Jungkook,” you whispered in his ear, “besides I thought you were tired.”

“I’ll—I’ll be so good I promise,” he continued fucking himself into your hand.

Jungkook whined as soon as you released his cock from your grip. Instead you tucked off the pesky fabrics covering his lower half, with his help of course, your theories were proven to be correct. Jungkook, your hot neighbor with piercings and tattoos also had a pussy destroyer in between his legs because of course he did.

“There’s only two rules baby.”

“What are the rules?”

“You have to keep your hands to yourself and no coming until I say so. You got it?”

“Yes, darling.”

Opening the last drawer on your night stand you pulled out one of your vibrators and held it up for him to see, “is it ok if we use this?”

“Mhm.”

You shoved it in your pocket for later.

Taking him into your mouth, you began swirling your tongue in circular motions around the head of his cock. His labored pants were hushed and almost inaudible, you would’ve missed them if the two of you weren’t in complete silence.

Licking up and down his shaft you focused on pressing your tongue on the tip, as your hands began working, pumping him where your mouth couldn’t reach. You bobbed your head up and down occasionally, allowing the head of his cock pop in and out of your mouth. Slurp noises began invading the atmosphere around the two of you along with his whimpers. Your pace was fast and there were traces of your saliva coating his length entirely.

“Fuck darling,” his hands were reaching to grasp anything in his path but instead he ended up knocking everything off your night stand. “Y-Your lips were made to be around my cock. You know that?”

Jungkook’s praises were treats for your ego and you made sure to devour them in their entirety. He was a pleasant mess; his hair stuck out in all directions while his lips were swollen and vibrant with a scarlet hue as he kept biting down on them harshly. His glasses were slightly fogged and there were traces of saliva sitting on the corner of his mouth. All you wanted was to continue seeing him lose himself at your mercy.

You reached into your pocket and turned on the palm sized stimulator—you placed it against his balls before hitting the on button, setting off its vibrations. His head fell back and his hips buckled forward, causing you to gag around the majority of cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he cried out.

If anyone would’ve told you having Jungkook’s dick in your mouth would be this heavenly, you would live on your knees in front of him forever. Pleasuring him at every hour of every day but today you had different plans and once again he let out frustrated whimpers as you removed your mouth from around him.

“No—no, darling you’re fucking killing me. I need to come now,” he sounded desperate, “It hurts so bad. I need to come.”

“Don’t worry baby. We’re getting right to that,” you placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Did you bring any condoms?”

He shook his head, “I wasn’t exactly expecting things to go down this route.”

“Are you. .?”

“I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am.”

There was a timid breeze coming in through the opened window, it was enough to cool you down just a bit, well as cool as you could be without a fan.

Bouncing on Jungkook’s dick was even better than having him in your mouth. Sure, you loved the way he became a stuttering mess with the teasing of your tongue but having him deep inside of you, you felt like you were in your own heaven. On a deserted island somewhere with nothing but the swift breeze coming from the palm trees and his touch on your skin.

“You take me so well,” he whispered in your ear but you were too busy consumed by your own pleasure. Hyper focused on the way his hands dug into your waist; the way he swiftly pushed his cock in and out of you.

The sounds of your skin slapping against his blared through the room, as well as your profanities and his words of praise just as before.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as you felt a build up of tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, causing you to arch your back. Seemingly, the way you clenched around Jungkook he seemed to have noticed you were extremely close.

“Come for me darling,” with each word he buried his dick deeper into you.

It was a blissful paradise painted on the back of your eyelids as Jungkook continued to mold your insides with his dick, he was careful but rammed into you with such force, your voice was strained and you couldn’t hold it any longer. You finally came as sights of the beeming sun behind your closed eyes blinded you entirely.

“Come inside of me,” you managed; even more sweaty than how you began, absolutely tired and completely out of breath.

He chanted strings of your name as finally filled you up.

“Please come over more often and bring all of your brownies with you,” you were pressed up against him as he hugged your waist, placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How about we begin by going to that movie tomorrow?” It was so funny to you how Jungkook had practically just split you in two and now he was back to being soft spoken.

“It’s a date.”

It was now Friday, the power was finally back on around the city and Jungkook followed through on his plans to take you to the movies. The only problem was when you approached the theater you spotted your nosey landlord standing in line right beside Namjoon. “Before you say anything, Seokjin. Please just shut the fuck up.”

“You always think the worse of me,” he placed his hand on his chest, “all I was going to say is my Cupid’s bow is to thank for the two of you finally getting together.”

“In that case, thank you Seokjin,” Jungkook said.

“Don’t thank him.”

“Actually, please do. But the next time yall fuck in my building please keep it down. Just like the walls, the floors are also thin and the fifth floor did not appreciate your day of passion.”

“Seokjin, please go back to your own date,” you hissed, hoping no one else in line heard his little rant, “pretend we’re not here.”

Jungkook’s shame sat in his now red tinted cheeks, you peppered kisses on them to ease him.

“See, they can’t even keep their hands to themselves in public,” you heard Seokjin whisper.

This is going to be an interesting date.

-

-

-

a/n: this was pretty fun to write but supposed to be out on my birthday a couple days ago but i couldn’t meet the deadline sadly but please enjoy and disregard the smut scene if it’s bad. I tried lol my brain just wasn’t working 100%.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)

[livixcore]

i do every year don’t i? (idol!seo changbin x f!reader)

✮ summary: every year you made a big deal about your boyfriends birthday and this year was no different except you hadn’t seen him much with the ‘Ate’ comeback being so recent so the movie night didn’t go as planned but it couldn’t have been more perfect.

✮ a/n: okay first time writing full fluff… i don’t LOVE it but i also don’t hate it so please enjoy:) i started writing this literally the day before Binnie’s birthday but i was working so much i didn’t have time to finish it but it’s finally done hehe… was aiming for it to just be a wee drabble but that didn’t happen whoops :3

✮ pairing: idol!Seo Changbin x f!reader

✮ genre: fluff

✮ warnings: suggestive, swearing, just some fluffy goodness:) not proof read mb

✮ wc: 2k

You’d been planning for this night for a couple weeks, talking to the other boys to make a perfect birthday movie night for Changbin. Thankfully his birthday was on the day you all usually did your movie nights in one of the dorms so you decided to just make a small party out of it with all 8 of the boys and yourself.

Most weeks you all just busied yourself with making snacks and bringing them all to the livingroom to sit all together with a movie playing on the television but you wanted this one to be special. A special night for your special boy.

The schedule had been absolute chaos all week with award shows and fan signings happening every day so the Saturday night was perfect for some relaxation. Chan had made sure to clear the schedules for the kids so that the night would go smoothly.

“Okay perfect this is looking great guys but remember Hyunjin and Bin are coming home in like an hour so we need to get this finished!” You stood in the middle of the dorm watching the boys all help putting up the silly decorations you’d bought. Balloons and streamers filled the room with bright colours, mostly pink.

Every year on Changbin’s birthday you made a point out of over decorating the dorm because you loved to make a fuss about your boyfriend, helping him understand how loved and appreciated he is.

Technically his birthday wasn’t until tomorrow but since you all tended to watch a couple movies at your movie nights you thought it would be perfect for it to run into his birthday and it means everyone who loves him dearly is with him since he can’t be home with his family.

“I don’t think Hyunjin realises how much cleaning is gonna need to be done afterwards like you’d think he’d want to be here to watch the downfall of his dorm.” Seungmin laughed as he sat on the floor blowing up a couple small balloons.

“He told me to go crazy so here I am going crazy.” You shrugged. “Plus this isn’t the most insane I’ve done remember when we covered the studio and the practice rooms in all this shit? Oh I still remember the look on JYP’s face when he saw them.” A shiver ran up your spine at the mere thought of it.

The room erupted into laughter from all angles. You’d gotten a good lecture after that about trashing the company building and what not. Personally you wouldn’t say it was ‘trashing’, you were just celebrating and decorating. Big difference.

You heard giggling from below you, looking down to be met with Felix and Jisung lying on the floor rolling around in the confetti making snow angels or confetti angels in this case and throwing handfuls of it at each other.

You couldn’t even be mad because those two had done the most work helping you make this perfect.

About 50 minutes had gone by and finally everything was in place. All the movie snacks had been sorted and placed in an arrangement on the table in the centre of the room. A cake sat prettily on the kitchen counter surrounded with a gift from each of the boys and a couple sitting from you off to the side.

Each wall was decorated with pink and silver balloons, streamers running down beneath them and brightening the place up. Maybe it was a little over the top but you highly doubted Hyunjin and Changbin were cleaning this up so you didn’t mind since it would most likely be you dealing with it.

You all stood back and admired your work before collapsing on any available surface even just to lean against.

“He’s for sure going to lose his mind when he steps through that door.” Chan sputtered out a laugh while binning the last few packets from the decorations.

“That’s the goal. I just want him to know how loved he is and what better time than on his birthday with his favourite people.” You smiled at the thought of his reaction, hoping he loves it as much as you think he will.

Before anyone could respond to you the sound of a key snapped all of your attention towards the door, everyone scrambling to stand up and welcome the birthday boy himself.

When the door finally opened and Changbin’s face appeared around the side of it you all erupted into cheers, shouting a plethora of happy birthdays and other greetings.

“Holy shit!” he broke out into a laugh, a massive grin stretching from ear to ear on his face. “All of this for me? You’re crazy!”

You couldn’t help but run into your boyfriend’s arms, crashing against his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. He stumbled back at the contact before dropping his gym bag and reciprocating your hug, his arms snaking around your waist and lifting you off the floor.

The rest of the boys had grabbed the bags of takeout and extra snacks from Hyunjin and taken them to the kitchen, leaving you and Changbin in the foyer of the dorm together.

“Princess you did all of this for me?” He mumbled into your neck, his face pressed there from the hug. You nodded giggling as he put your feet back on the floor.

“Of course, I do every year don’t I?” You smiled before leaning in and littering his face with kisses, the last being a lingering one on his lips as you felt him smile against your own.

He smiled down at you before looking around the room, beaming at all the effort you all put in. All you could do was admire him, the smile on his face was enough for you to fall in love with him all over again.

“Right should we get these movies started? It’s not Binnie’s birthday for another… 4 and a half hours soooo…?” Minho said while carrying the snacks that Changbin and Hyunjin had brought into the livingroom on plates and bowls.

“Yeah but Bin gets to pick the movies, it’s only fair.” Chan shrugged, of course he was the one making sure the kids played fair.

After about 20 minutes of scrolling through every streaming platform possible Changbin finally choose a rom-com to start. It’s one you guys had been wanting to watch for a while but never found the time so now was the chance.

The movie started playing as everyone settled comfortably into the couches and blankets laid on the floor. Limbs thrown over one another either for comfort or to simply annoy each other.

You had your legs thrown over Changbin’s lap as his hands found their place on your calves, kneading the flesh ever so slightly absentmindedly.

Over an hour had gone by but the movie was only 30 in due to the fact everyone kept interrupting for toilet breaks or just to chat about something that happened in the movie that then went off into 3 other conversations before someone mentioned the fact you all still had a movie to finish.

“Yah! Can we get through this movie? I’d like to finish it at some point so we can get onto another one and then go to bed.” Changbin boomed loudly catching everyone’s attention.

No one replied at first until you broke out into laughter, which then caused a chain reaction and everyone was laughing with you.

“Aw I’ve missed this. You guys have all been so busy lately it’s fun to just chat baby.” You said, leaning over to plant a kiss on Changbin’s cheek and place a hand on his which were still holding onto your legs.

“Yeah Hyung come on we’re just having fun, the movies not going anywhere anytime soon. With the comeback being so recent we are just enjoying this time to chill! More importantly to celebrate your birthday.” Seungmin said, obviously making sense which Changbin couldn’t deny.

“Fine fine, I’ve missed it too I just wanted to watch this though.” He pouted. “You’re right though the movie isn’t going anywhere we can easily watch it another time too.” A cheeky smile broke out across his face since he knows he can just play this at the next movie night if he wanted.

Shortly after the movie was long forgotten as you all caught up, mostly the guys catching up with you since you’d only seen them a handful of times in the past month or so.

“Come on y/nnie! You were offered the chance to come to Milan and London too so you can’t be mad at us because you turned it down!” Felix threw his hands up in defeat. “We asked with plenty of time in advance.”

“You literally work with the company! I don’t know why you turned it down.” Hyunjin added, clearly taking the majorities side.

“I didn’t want to distract you guys, those festivals were big deals!” You defended yourself with the first reason you could think of.

“Be so for real, the only person you could’ve distracted was Bin.” Han had giggled, causing Changbin to chuck a pillow at him. “Yah! You know i’m right Hyung.”

“Yeah yeah whatever, I was probably more distracted by the fact I missed you.” Changbin’s face flushed red as his admission. “But it’s over now so it’s fine.” He shrugged.

You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his torso.

The clock was counting down the time to the big day. Binnie’s birthday. In approximately 32 minutes it would be his day. Your boyfriend’s day. A day of celebrating the entirety of him.

The snacks on the table had slowly been running out and no one had bothered to refill anything, clearly either too lazy to do so or too engrossed in whatever bullshit you all talked about to notice.

Chatter continued in the background as you kept looking at your phone to watch the time get closer and closer to midnight so you could smother your boyfriend like you did every year at midnight on the 11th of August.

“Princess you remember that don’t you?” Changbin has turned to face you, a big smile decorating his face. Truthfully you had been too distracted keeping an eye on the time to know what he was talking about.

“Haha yeah! Uh… yeah I do of course!” You smiled by trying to act all nonchalant about the fact you had no clue what was being discussed.

“Uh oh someone’s distracted.” Jeongin whispered from beside Chan causing the elder to stifle a laugh. They all knew why you hadn’t been paying full attention.

“5… 4… 3… 2… andddd 1…” someone had said under their breath.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY BINNIE BABY!!!” You yelled immediately, jumping onto his lap and attacking him with hugs and kisses from every angle.

He didn’t even try to fight it off, instead he grabbed your face between both his hands and crashed his lips onto yours sweetly.

“Ew.” You heard a disgusted voice from behind you. You blindly flung your middle finger out and flipped off Hyunjin since you knew it was him.

“Someone stop them I’m too young for this.” the youngest had said which made you break away from Changbin with enough time to see Chan covering Jeongin’s eyes.

“No but genuinely happy birthday Bin. Since you’re done trying to do whatever the fuck that was can we say happy birthday do our Binnie now?” Seungmin scoffed and laughed at the same time.

“Yeah yeah of course I just wanted to be first.” You smiled and climbed off of his lap allowing him to stand and thank everyone individually.

A silent look was passed around everyone bar you and Changbin as they all started laughing.

“Alexa? Play ‘Birthday Sex’ by Jeremih.” Minho had yelled out.

In a matter of seconds the song started blasting through the apartment which had all of the boys in stitches laughing.

“Let’s leave them to it.” Felix laughed and started ushering everyone to the door.

You could definitely tell your face was bright red at this point.

“Jinnie you live here you fucking idiot.” You said to him hoping it would distract you from being so embarrassed.

“Not tonight I don’t. Have fun.” He smirked back waving before he left the apartment with the rest of the boys in tow.

The door clicked shut and the room fell into silence except for the music still playing.

Well… why waste it?

[lyssasdrafts]

★ 𓈒 ݁ STAR—CROSSED (rhysand x reader) ⊹

chapter seven: (written) ✧

𓈒 ݁ ✫ masterlist previous next

rhysand was in a good mood this morning. instead of his usual taunts and smirks, you walked into the lecture hall only to be greeted by a polite smile from him. you recalled your last interaction at the library where you actually got along with him, and with how you two had been texting on the side, wondering if that had anything to do with his change of heart.

something felt wrong about rhysand giving you the same look that he shows to other people on campus, the same grin that he gives your professors; it felt wrong that he was treating you the same way he did with everyone else. at least with his glares and insults towards you, you knew that it was completely genuine.

you try not to glance at rhysand when the both of you are called after class to stay behind, instead focusing on professor bryaxis in front of you. holding her gaze, chills running down your spine, you try to remind yourself that there was a low chance the both of you were in any trouble. while you had the best grades in your class, the professor still intimidated you, and you couldn’t even imagine how your classmates that didn’t have her favor felt.

“y/n, rhysand…“ she speaks your names slowly, drawing out her smile before she turns pull out papers from her desk. “i wanted to ask you both something.”

rhysand swallows, and for the first time, he actually looks nervous, before he speaks up for both of you, “of course. is everything alright, professor?” you hold back your laughter at him. rhysand has never once looked stressed for an exam or test in the nearly four years you’ve known him.

“as both of you know, you’re the top preforming students at prythian university. the school is considering retaking promotional photos and would like both of you to be the student models,” your professor says. you almost breathe out a sigh of relief at her words before the realizations creeps onto your face that you’ll be modeling for once.

you figured this could be an interesting experience for your career, although modeling was never something you considered. rhysand’s expression was no longer tensed, instead smiling to himself when he realizes that this was his profession already. you nearly rolled your eyes when you considered just how badly this would inflate your rival’s ego.

when you had told morrigan about the student modeling, she nearly screamed in joy. your roommate had briefed you with her advice that she’d learnt throughout her career, along with how to deal with rhysand, and then pressed you for all the details.

you had worn your best professional outfit — a black blouse with a blazer that you’d splurged on a few years ago, with matching jewelry you borrowed from mor. however, you suddenly felt upstaged when rhysand walked in with his full designer outfit, a dark blue suit that matched the university’s colors and you knew probably cost more than you could imagine. he was definitely extravagant enough to eclipse you, suddenly making you wonder if you had been underdressed.

rhysand only manages to give you a small polite smile before you’re both ushered away into one of the larger classrooms on campus for the photoshoot, not even giving you chance to speak with him. although you had only been in this room a few times for a minor class you took before, you immediately understood why this was chosen. the windows lined the walls from ceilings that were triple your height, the room had an array of seats with furnished wooden desks that could hold hundreds of students, and the room was decorated with hanging plants that you could only assume flourished from the amount of sunlight that was shining in.

you’re extremely impressed by the cameras and lighting conventions used, you almost want to run to the photography crew and ask to help. while you knew that it wasn’t as exorbitant as the cameras at rhysand’s modeling studio, you were still suprised that your older university had access to this kind of equipment. once again, you’re reminded of your role when they ask to take some pictures of rhysand first, leaving you to awkwardly stand by while waiting for your turn.

it still hadn’t occurred to you that your job was to be the model instead of the photographer. you watch as rhysand coordinates naturally with the director, always making the right faces and posss for the camera. you wondered just how long he had been in this industry, contemplating the chances that he was probably modeling as a child. you wouldn’t be surprised if rhysand was already booking modeling gigs before you had even discovered you liked taking photos and taught yourself to use a camera.

his hair never once looked out of place as countless shots were taken of rhysand. the school had wanted to show off their campus facilities and thus had rhysand posting in candid photos in front of the classroom’s massive windows, making him pretend to study at a desk with his materials. your favorite pose that he did was the picture with rhysand sitting at a desk, his chin in his palm, staring down at his papers. the angle, the lighting, everything made him look even more beautiful than he already was. you admired the school photographer’s ability, even though the subject matter was terrible.

“i guess the professor was right when she said i have great hair,” rhysand sneers as he walks by you.

“shut up,” you say plainly, not bothering to turn your head and look rhysand in the eye. you could hear the faintest trace of a laugh leaving his lips, before he says to you, “you’re next.”

clenching your fists, you slowly let go of them as you turn to him and try your best to seem confident. “i could tell that,” you state, not wanting rhysand to know you were nervous after he already found out enough about you.

the photographer calls your name after rhysand and you run over to the same desks to take similar pictures. however, you’re not even nearly as natural as rhysand’s modeling and poses. you’re immediately critiqued after every shot for being too stiff, for your posture, your facial expressions looking bored, and whatever else they could think of. you weren’t even this hard on rhysand during your first photoshoot with him, and that was considering you hated each other.

you could see the frowns appearing on the staff’s faces and try not to look annoyed. this was not your job and never would be, what were they expecting?

“y/n, you’re a very promising student who i’ve been told takes great pride in going to prythian university, what’s wrong?”

“i… i know i don’t know how to pose,” you hesitantly admit.

the photographer blinks at you for a moment before realizing how that explains your awkwardness, and you suddenly feel the need to turn your head away in embarrassment. meanwhile, rhysand stands in the corner with his thinking expression on before he comes up to you.

“it’s okay y/n, i was nervous for my first photoshoot too,” he whispers to you. you scrunch your face at him, surprised at the genuine compassion in his voice. he wasn’t mocking or teasing you, he actually wanted to help for once.

“i have an idea!” rhysand says louder, before he grabs your hand and tilts your head carefully, instructing you on how to pose to realistically look like you’re studying.

“just think about that tough physics question from last week,” he mutters to you when the director asks for your facial expression.

you silently went along with whatever rhysand said as he guided you, being far less passive aggressive then how you were last week during his shoot. you make a mental note to thank him for this later.

“perfect!” the photographer exclaims before snapping a few shots of you, the bright white light nearly making you flinch. how did models such as mor and rhysand put up with this?

afterwards, rhysand tries advise you even more as group photos are taken of the both of you. they make you pretend to be study together, work with the science equipment, and other various activities to show off how nice your school is. when the director gives a satisfied nod towards the end, you realize that this is finally over.

after you’re thanked for your time, rhysand respectfully asks when he can see the photos and the director firmly answers that you’ll be able to see them when the school posts them. you both nod in sync at this answer and go to speak by yourselves.

“that’s a pretty necklace, y/n,” rhysand notes, his eyes drifting lower towards your neckline. “they were limited edition, weren’t they?”

“i’m not sure…” you admit, “it’s borrowed from your cousin.”

“i bought that with her,” he crosses his arms. “you think i wouldn’t recognize them?”

a sudden heat rushes to your cheeks, “i’m sorry, if i knew how expensive it was, i wouldn’t have asked—”

“why are you sorry?” rhysand furrows his eyebrows, “it looks prettier on you anyways.”

you bite your tongue back, “thank you… should i call you rhys?”

“i’m sorry?”

“your friends call you that,” you add quietly, recalling what had happened with cassian and azriel at the library the other day.

rhysand’s loose purse and his expression drops, his tone suddenly becoming serious again, “do not call me that.”

“okay… rhys,” you hold back your giggles as you notice the embarrassed look on his face. you start laughing at him soon enough.

“i mean it! don’t call me that.” rhysand nearly sounds like he’s whining. you inch your face closer to his for one more thing before you leave, making sure you could have the last word.

“then i’ll see you around, rhys.”

you don’t bother to turn around and see his annoyed expression, even though it would’ve definitely made your day.

— NOTES

rhysand’s fashion sense ughhh i’m going crazy

we love morrigan being a good friend and helping y/n get ready 🫶🫶

more mentions of professor bryaxis 💀💀 we love her

— TAGLIST

@thelov3lybookworm @starsand @lilah-asteria @therealmoonstone @just-a-social-casualty-1 @ashjade19 @girlontheblock @cherry-cin @daughterofthemoons-stuff @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sweet-chai-amore @kierramofficial @noelli-smv @c-dizzle99 @littlestw01f @marina468 @dragneel-brothers

[angelanika]

Pro Swimmer! Sousuke x (f!) Reader

Warning: teeny-weeny Free! spoiler (bump in Sousuke’s swimming career) 

"And make sure he's back home by 8:30 the latest! Got it?"

"Yea...I- I got it," Sousuke groaned.

His eyes never met yours, feeling more and more intimidated under your intense gaze. He always found you kinda hot when you were all riled up but he knew his rights to wandering eyes were revoked. He instead opted to scan the plain walls and various apartment doors in the hallway. And occasionally down at the pointed finger you had jabbed in his chest.

You were just about to continue with your lecture when your son chirped up.

"Come on dad! If we don't go now, the lines will get too longggg," he whined, tugging at his father's shirt.

Sousuke was well aware that the lines at the amusement park were already out the gates and that he would more than likely be ushered to the front anyway, but he couldn't miss this opportunity to get the hell outta there.

"Alright Zai," Sousuke announces, "tell your mom bye and we'll go."

Without wasting another second, your 5 year old son grins up at you with his adorable smile and chubby cheeks,"Bye mommy!"

"Bye baby," you say sweetly, bending down to straighten his clothes. "Behave yourself ok? And don't eat too much junk. Remember your manners and don't go off on your own. Mommy's number is on that bracelet, if you get los-"

"Yes mommy. I got it!"

You sigh as you stand back up. "Okay...well have fun!"

"We will!" Zai yells behind him as he runs down the hall.

"I'll see you later," you call out again.

"Yea!" This time he's already turned to corner and is probably smashing at the elevator buttons.

Now its just you and Sousuke...

"Uh yh, bye Y/N. I'll be sur-"

SLAM!!

He would be lying if he said that the door shut in his face didn't hurt like a bitch. But what was he really expecting?

He just sighed and turned on his heel, hands deep in his pocket, fidgeting with the small box inside.

His mind drifted to the times when the air between you two were comfortable and loving, not tense and filled with hatred. When you would practically throw yourself on him when he came home and he would shower you in kisses. You were with him through all the ups and downs. His glory days in high school where he was among the top swimmers in his age group to his unforeseen shoulder injury which had everything around him crashing down. He became so depressed. But you stuck with him through it all. When he finally fully recovered at the end of university, he was quickly climbing the ranks once again. You, of course, were there to cheer him on. When he qualified for the Olympic games, he had recruiters and trainers from all over the world ringing his line. He got a great opportunity abroad and you eagerly pushed him to take it on. He was very reluctant about leaving you, but you quickly dismissed his worries and happily waved him goodbye, knowing that he would regret his decision later if he declined.

When he did come to visit, having some quality alone time was always on the top of your to-do list and departing from each other once again was the hardest. But for the most part, you guys made the long-distance relationship work. Everything worked...until it didn't!! :0

(sorry, I'm so dramatic)

It had been a week since he flew back out after visiting you for a few days. Sousuke had just wrapped up a small interview and he was still seated in the leather interview chair when he pulled out his phone.

BABYGIRL 💞

Please call me.

3:07pm

Sousuke slipped out his seat and through the door, leaning cooly outside against the concrete studio building ensuring that he was out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the busy pedestrians.

Bzzz Bzzz Bz-

"Hey Baby, missing me already?" He smirked.

"Hi...well yes...but that's not why i called..."

Damn did he love the sound of your voice, but what's with the worried stutter?

"What's up?"

"Please don't get upset..."

Sousuke frowned. Don't get upset? He straightened up his posture against the building, bringing to phone closer to his ear.

"What is it?"

"..."

"Y/n, what is it?"

You cringed at the absence of your usual nicknames. Your hands were clammy as you desperately tried not to drop the phone. Your heart was racing at a mile a minute and everytime you glanced at the positive tests decorated all over your bathroom counter, its sped up. You had to remind yourself that it takes two to tango and NONE of this is entirely your fault! It's not your fault....It's not your fault...

"I'm pregnant."

Sousuke froze, "y-you're what?"

"Pregnant Sousuke...pregnant," Your voice cracked as you whispered it out, clutching the phone impossibly tighter.

"How?"

Your back which was once slouched over the bathroom counter straightened up. Your face wrinkled into a frown and the tears running down your face felt hot with rising anger.

TF do u mean howw? That stupid question made you want to jump through the nearest window and the irritatingly calm way he asked such bullshit, had you foaming at the mouth.

"How Sousuke?!? You tell me!"

"But we're NOT ready for a child y/n," his voice was still low but stern, "We're still young and I'm finally at the top, there's no way i can raise a child right now.”

You quieted down, "So what are you saying?"

"I think you know y/n."

No. You had to hear him say it.

"Well I'm keeping it, so WHAT are you saying? Are you going to help me raise our child or not?!"

Sousuke sighed, "No y/n, I'm sor-"

Call ended.

* * *

After that phone call, a week had gone by without either of you hearing from the other. You were picking up around your apartment as it had started to reflect the messiness of your mind.

You decided to turn on the TV for some background noise and coincidentally it was on the celebrity entertainment channel.

"Ahh well at least i can see what a catastrophe other people's lives are ..." you murmured to yourself.

Snatching up some sticky candy wrappers from the kitchen counter, you headed to the trash partially listening to the overly enthusiastic TV hosts.

"Aaaand guess what folks?!? Next up we'll be talking about the rising athletic star SOUSUKE YAMAZAKI caught getting steamy with 3 Victoria Secret Models!!!" the man said.

"After securing his place at the Olympics games, it seems he got the surprise party of a lifetime!! And paparazzi caught ALL the sexy hot tub scenes so stay tuned!!" his co host added.

You felt sick and not just from the growing child inside you.

You wanted to look away but you couldn't help but stare at the images on your future child's father feeling and rubbing up on 3 other women in bikinis.

That son-of-a-bitch...

Right before the show faded to a commercial break, you heard, "haha wait, didn't he mention being in a relationship recen-?"

You realized that cutting people off was starting to become a bad habit of yours, but there was no way you would listen to any more of that.

"He sure does move on fast," you muttered.

You couldn't help but wonder if he had those girls or even others on the side while you two were together as well.

The way his hands would grab at ur body eagerly showed that he must've been more than touch starved when he was away, but rn,

"It's alright Y/N. It's alright," you repeated to yourself. "He's not a part of your life anymore. That's just how it is. You'll be an amazing single mom. You have supportive friends and family. You'll be fine. You didn't and still don't need him..."

Now you're crying.

You try to blame it on the pregnancy hormones but you know better.

You curl up on the sofa, not having the strength to drag yourself to your own bed, and continue to shed your tears. You've been getting used to the sensation of crying your eyes out, it has become a more frequent thing since the call and sweetie, you had many more crying sessions to come...

* * *

Five years later, here you are.

When Sousuke finally reached out after 3 years of complete radio silence, begging you to allow him into your son's life, you didn't hesitate to drop a cold-hearted "No."

Who tf does he think he is?!?

However, it was your friends and family who were the ones to urge you to reconsider, saying that it would be best for Zai. You were still reluctant but eventually gave in, only for your child's sake.

Sousuke didn't visit too often, but when he did, he was always bearing expensive gifts and a fun day out.

You hated to see your baby go off with that bag of shit but you were kinda happy for Zai. He was spoilt rotten whenever Sousuke came around to add more toys to his collection. He really enjoyed riding in his dad's luxury sports cars and visiting his over-the-top condos. However, you raised him well and he knew when it was time to go home.

You sometimes felt bad knowing that you couldn't afford all those things for Zai yourself but he never fussed about wanting to stay longer with his affluent father as he knew that his own home with you was just as rich in unconditional love. 🥰

Zai sat on a bench, swinging his tiny legs as he chowed down a corndog.

"All worn out kiddo?" Sousuke asked while taking a seat beside him.

"No! I still have to go on a few more rides so i can be named King of Fun Land!!" he exclaimed, stretching out his arms dramatically.

Sousuke chuckled as he grabbed a tissue to wipe the ketchup off his son's mouth.

"Well your mom made an appointment to get your hair cut so we have to finish up here quickly ok?"

"Ok!!" Zai chirped.

"Uhm...speaking of your mom...."

Zai was too enchanted by the tasty carnival food to notice the change in his father's behaviour and how he shifted awkwardly on the bench beside him, trying to find the right words.

"..does she ever talk about me?"

He felt like a complete loser asking such a question to a 5 year old, but he couldn't help it.

Despite his nonchalant attitude, he really does regret what he did. He wants to see his son grow and learn, he wants to be a part of his life, he wants your forgiveness and he wants to know if he even has a chance at gaining your forgiveness.

"I'm not allowed to repeat what mommy says. She says they're bad words and i shouldn't use them."

There it is. He has no chance. He knew that. But the confirmation still sliced his heart.

"Oh alright kiddo. Don't worry about it," Sousuke ruffled his son's hair and lowered his voice, "And uhh don't bother tell her that i asked."

* * *

Zai continued to have a fun day with his father. After his haircut, they fed the ducks, got icecream and before he knew it, it was time to go home. 

“Oh shit,” Sousuke cursed as he checked his watch. “Your mom is going to kll me.”

He buckled his son into his back seat and he made his way behind the wheel. He turned to his son behind him with a small smile and said, “I actually have to pick up...a friend of mine right now. Is that ok?” 

Part 2 coming soon

[juyeonszn]

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (PT. 2)

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.60k

GENRES angst ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader is better than me cause i would not let kevin do all the shit he’s done 😭, ANYWAY i digress, this part is very reader-centric — whereas part one is very kevin-centric, inner turmoil goes absolutely crazy, most of this fic is reader putting kevin in his place and him realizing how big of an asshole he truly is, mentions of injury (past tense), mentions of insecurity, lots of arguing, reader cries at one point or another, the smut places a very minimal role in this, but unprotected sex, public sex (the auditorium dressing room), no foreplay but wtv we fall like soldiers in battle, pussy job lowkey (high key…), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY it wasn’t like you and kevin hated each other. in fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

MORE oh my god. it’s finally fucking here. A MONTH, 2 SICKNESSES AND MANY MANY STRESSFUL NIGHTS LATER— part two of princess and the pauper is here!!! i’m so sorry to those of u who have been itching and waiting on me to get ‘er done,,, it’s been an ordeal to say the least, and while it’s nearing the two month mark since the black out or back out collab was announced, SHE FINALLY FINISHED!!! for once i saw something through omg i can sleep peacefully and work on my other wips without guilt now… 😭 ALSO THANK U SO MUCH MAYA @/kimsohn FOR PUSHING ME THROUGH THIS and for making me thug it out bc without u it definitely would’ve taken much longer to finish 💔 please dont forget to read part one and the other fics in the series if u haven’t!! both are linked below! and as always, pls reblog if u enjoyed <3

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

TAGLIST @millksea @deobibbang @deobi0412

Never in your life have you felt so… Confused.

It wasn’t just confusion that settled deep in the pit of your stomach. There was a sharp pain there too, like someone stabbed you and twisted the knife. That was probably the best way to describe what you were feeling. You were bleeding out, and no one was coming to save you.

Kevin wasn’t answering your calls. He wasn’t answering your texts. He ran out of the lecture hall as soon as class was over, never giving you a moment to speak to him. It was making you nervous.

You still had half of a dance to choreograph and a fuck ton of pressure riding on your back. After the last performance you and him did together, you’d have a lot of eyes on you. It most definitely wasn’t your fault that he dropped you. How many people willingly want to acquire a broken ankle? The crutches were a bitch to maneuver around with. But like every single thing that’s happened in the three years you’ve known Kevin Moon, he’s managed to place the blame on you like it was.

It was crucial that you make amends with him even if it was momentarily. Your final grades were dependent on your performance. If he couldn’t get his shit together for at least that, he was a lost cause in your mind. Not even your professor would be able to refute that fact. Actually, nobody would be able to refute that fact.

Your lips form an O as you blow the steam away from your coffee, pulling out your phone to try Kevin’s phone once again. The line rings a few times before going straight to voicemail like it has the past couple weeks. You kiss your teeth, tying your sweater around your waist as you slump in your chair. The baristas at the campus cafe were probably sick of seeing you sitting in the same high-top counter spot since the incident with Kevin in the studio.

“Y/N?”

Ji Changmin appears beside you and you click your phone off, so he wouldn’t see his friend’s contact on the screen. You give the Early Childhood Dev major a weak smile.

“Changmin! What’s up? How are you and your girlfriend?” You hope he can’t recognize the distress written all over your features. You highly doubt it, though. You can feel the wrinkles pulling at your skin.

“We’re good! How’s the showcase performance going with Kev?” He asks like he knows something you don’t. When your lips fall to a thin line, an all too familiar grimace, he sighs a knowing sigh. “Do I have to smack some sense into him?”

“Not gonna lie, yeah, you do. He’s being really fucking difficult and like half of our dance is unfinished. I can’t even get a hold of him, so I’m starting to lose my patience.” You express your annoyance. The border between complacency and free-will was a lot slimmer than one might think. For example; your feelings when it comes to Kevin Moon.

You don’t expect to get a returning call later that night when you’re washing dishes after dinner.

In fact, you don’t even hear it at first, too absorbed in scrubbing the staining out of your bowl. It’s when your roommate yells out to you, that you snap out of your reverie, albeit dazedly. You dry your hands on a nearby tea towel, hitting the green answer button without a second glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You recognize the owner of the voice practically by the first breath into the receiver alone. It’s actually kind of unhealthy how quickly it took to realize who was on the other end. You swallow heavily, praying he doesn’t hear the gulp.

“In the latter part of the afternoon, I believe. Why?” You try not to sound hopeful. That’s one thing you’ve learned being in the same vicinity as Kevin Moon. You could never be too expecting, because it would only lead to disappointment. And you’d dealt with enough of that the past few years.

“We need to finish this fuck ass choreography,” he grunts, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue. “I’ll meet you in the same studio at 4.”

He doesn’t let you get anything else in, hanging up swiftly. You deflate as you set your phone back on the counter. All you had to do was push through these next couple weeks, like you always have when it came to him.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

“No, that looks stupid.”

You grit your teeth, swiping the back of your hand on your forehead. You’d been inside of this studio maybe 30 minutes tops, and you were on the verge of strangling Kevin. With as long as you’d been putting up with his shit, you thought getting through this wouldn’t be as rough as it’s been. But if there was one thing Kevin Moon had, it was pride.

“We don’t have time for you to nitpick right now. Let’s just finish the choreography and clean it after.” Your hands rest on your hips, nostrils flaring.

“If we clean as we go, we’ll have more time to drill it into our systems and get down muscle memory. It’ll be a stronger performance.” He argues. You roll your eyes as you turn away from him, taking a water break to calm yourself. “Why do you have so much fucking attitude today? You were the one preaching to the choir about me making things difficult. It seems the tables have turned.”

Usually, you were pretty good at keeping your frustration at bay when it came to Kevin’s remarks. You liked to think it was because you were down bad for the guy, despite him always wanting nothing to do with you. But as of late, (Read: Since your performance of Princess and the Pauper) every little comment he’s made has managed to crawl under your skin like a damn parasite. You were beginning to get real sick of it.

“God, you’re so—“ You interrupt yourself to groan, fingers curling into fists. “You’re fucking insufferable. Do you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to ensure we aren’t kicked out of the goddamn program and you don’t even fucking care. Over what? A kiss that you initiated?”

Kevin is stunned into silence, not at all prepared for you to blow up on him like that. After all, that razor thin line between complacency and free-will had yet to be crossed. And well, it appears that you just crossed it. You whip around toward him, pulling down the collar of your t-shirt to reveal the faintest of bruises that still remains from your impromptu act of intimacy.

“I’ve had to look at this every day for a week and all it’s done is make me feel shitty, ashamed of something I didn’t even start. Now I need you to stop acting like an ass and get it together so we can finish this and perform the best dance this university has ever seen.” Your chest is heaving up and down, similarly to when you made out against the mirrors last week. Except this time isn’t out of breathlessness, but rather anger and exhaustion.

Kevin’s eyes don’t leave the hickey on the base of your throat, something undetectable swimming in them as he stares. You can’t read the emotions swirling rampantly in his irises, a mixture of too many blurring into one another. Honestly, it’s funny. It’s funny that it’s taken you this long to get him to shut his mouth for once.

So you laugh.

It’s a snort at first, an off handed projection of how comical the situation has become to you. But then it metamorphoses into a small giggle, which leads to full scale laughter that has you hunching over your knees and wiping away tears. This whole thing is stupid. Absolutely fucking stupid.

“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrow raises in question, broken from his weird trance.

“I just can’t believe it took three years for me to shut you up,” you shake your head slowly, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. “You’re always the one who can’t stop talking.”

Kevin deadpans, mouth pulled pin-straight as his expression drops. “You’re so unserious.”

As the height of your laughter reaches a valley, you collapse onto the ground, resting your back against the mirror. You take another long sip of water before sighing. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Trust me, I know. But, we’ve gotta set aside our differences just this once. Please, for the sake of the department.”

“Fine,” he murmurs, plopping down beside you to stretch his back. “Let’s finish choreographing so we can start cleaning it up.”

It’s a victory in your book, and probably the most obedient the Pisces has ever been. Maybe this wouldn’t end in complete disaster like you assumed it would. It turns out Kevin Moon wasn’t entirely brainless and knew when he was wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. We’ll see.

You shut your eyes and visualize what you’ve choreographed so far, going over the moves in your head to see if the rest will come to you like a prophecy. It’s wishful thinking, but with how much you’ve accomplished since setting foot in the studio, you’re willing to try anything. The track would be nice for elements of hip hop style choreography, but you knew the audience wouldn’t eat it up as much as they would the route you’re currently taking.

Driver roll up the partition, please…

The song plays through the speakers and you watch as Kevin stands to run through everything you have. You’re entranced by his movements, the flow of his body on certain points. It’ll look ten times better once you’re doing it with him, costumed and performing it perfectly in front of a crowd. You can picture it now, the gentle but controlled glide of his hands along your arms when Beyoncé sings “We ain’t even gonna make it to this club”. He was right. You very well might be seduced by your enemy.

“Should we use props?” You suddenly voice, eyes narrowed in thought. He hums.

“That’s… not a half-bad idea, actually,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“A chair, maybe,” you look away from him, placing your focus on the way your toes alternate between a tendu and relaxed position. “That could take up a good chunk of the choreo.”

Kevin stalks over to the supply closet in the corner of the studio, pulling out a folding chair. He puts it in the center of the room gently, careful to not scratch up the wooden, lacquered flooring. You spend the next couple of hours brainstorming through numerous versions of the dance. While it was a lot easier than your past practices, there were still the occasional argument over which movements looked good and whatnot.

At a certain point, everything becomes cohesive and the end is near. You gulp down some water as Kevin does some random choreography. It’s then that it comes to you, like a vision from That’s So Raven. You practically drop your water bottle, scrambling to your feet and stopping him. Your breath is heavy from fatigue and you’re slightly afraid of even suggesting this, but it’s exactly what this dance needs. It’s exactly what everyone wants to see from the two of you.

He pauses the music and gestures for you to get on with it. You push down the lump in your throat, scared of rejection. But maybe he was smart and he would agree that this is what you have to do. “What if we did a lift?”

You see the hesitation swirling in his eyes and you raise a finger before he can shut you down entirely. “Nothing crazy like… um— you know— Princess and the Pauper, but something smaller. Something… sexy? Like, Dancing with the Stars type beat.”

When he shrugs instead of outright dismissing your idea, you know you’ve won. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, sure. But we better clean up everything else fast so we can perfect the lift.”

The two of you take another three hours running the entirety of the choreography, ingraining the moves into your brains and muscles. You still had a bit until the actual showcase, but your priority now lies with the lift. If you nailed it, the entire department would very well grovel after you in reparation for all of the slack you got after Kevin dropped you. Hell, the entire university would kiss your feet. This was your redemption. In more ways than one.

You both decide to call it a day at around 9:30 PM. Your hands reach for your belongings and then you halt yourself, a thought coming to mind. While you had him in this weird state of obedience, you figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been weighing on you for the past few years. Your fingers swipe away the sweat beading around your hairline.

”Kevin,” you start, voice a lot softer than before. “Why do you— what did I do to make you dislike me so much?”

He’s caught completely off guard, eyes widening in surprise. If he was anticipating you to say anything else prior to parting ways tonight, he didn’t think this would be it. He’s actually a little off put that you hadn’t asked him this already in the span of your definitely-one-sided rivalry. He takes a large gulp of water.

”I’d call it indifference, not dislike,” he corrects after a pregnant silence. “It’s really fucking stupid thinking about it in hindsight. I don’t know if you remember this time, way back in our first year, we ran into each other at the campus cafe— literally, might I add— and you spilled your coffee all over this white shirt of mine that Changmin had gotten for me as a birthday gift. I only recently found out that it wasn’t as expensive as he made it out to be.”

You blink at his admission, processing his words as thoroughly as possible. You don’t know what you wanted him to say. You weren’t even sure if there was a concrete reason for him to be so fucking mean to you all this time. And now that you know, you come to the conclusion that Kevin Moon isn’t as smart as you’ve painted him out to be in your head. He’s actually a gigantic idiot. Because who in their right mind goes through these lengths to form a distance between the only other person on par with their talent?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re bursting into another fit of laughter. Kevin falters at your reaction. He was waiting for you to blow up on him, to scream in his face for causing you so much pain and unnecessary drama over something so silly. So when you do none of that, when you start fucking laughing like a damn hyena, he feels dumb. Like his entire college career has been built off of nothing.

”This is so—“ you pause to gather your bearings, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “We’ve spent so much time going back and forth over some spilled coffee? Surely you’ve realized how insane that is at some point.”

”It took a lengthy argument with Changmin, but yeah, I did,” he nods, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, finally getting your things together. The two of you bid each other an awkward goodbye. Neither of you knew what to make of your relationship now that things had been partially sorted through. There was a fuck ton of baggage that still had to be sifted, but at least you had an answer.

That was enough to push through this showcase performance. You think.

You’re nervous.

Never in your entire life have you ever been this nervous for a performance.

You grew up doing musical theatre and dancing, it’s always been the one constant presence you could rely on. But standing here, backstage at the showcase, you think you’re going to throw up. Your palms are clamming up uncontrollably and your chest feels unbearably heavy as you watch the quartet doing a contemporary piece to some ballad you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. There were still a couple groups before you.

Not even when you had to perform fuckass Princess and the Pauper were you this anxious. You wince, trying to stop the incessant bouncing of your leg. Your weight keeps shifting from one hip to the other. As a seasoned veteran, you don’t know why you feel this way. Maybe it had to do with all the pressure riding on this very dance. Every single eye in that crowd was going to scrutinize your every move on that stage.

“Calm down,” a voice whispers harshly from beside you. “You’re making me nervous.”

Kevin wraps his fingers around your wrist, stopping the annoying tap-tap-tap your own were doing against your thigh. He gives you a look, and you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That’s a lie. Not only was the high expectations from the entire school getting to you, but so was the fear of history repeating itself. He knows this, it was inevitable. After what happened the last time he was tasked with lifting you, it was only natural.

”We’ve drilled this dance hundreds, if not thousands, of times, Y/N. We’ll do just fine.” Kevin assures you.

His hand feels foreign holding yours, like it was illegal for his skin to be touching your own. You feel your lower lip quiver, a sense of trepidation that you’ve never once felt creeping down your spine. Your mind was spiraling, and quite honestly, Kevin being so close was making it worse. All you could think about was him dropping you again, leaving you in the middle of the stage with a broken leg and a broken heart. You release a shaky breath and he turns to face you.

Your eyes widen and he searches your face for any disingenuity. When he finds his answer, he brings the hand that was holding yours up to cup your cheek. He’s cautious, afraid he might break you like he always does. He waits for you to shove him away and to yell at him for being a fucking coward.

You don’t. You stay still, hoping he follows through with what you think he’s about to do. And then he does.

It’s such a featherlight peck of his lips on your own, you almost don’t even register. But sparks shoot from the source all the way to the tips of your fingers. You feel as if you were dealt a static shock of electricity, your whole body buzzing from the small kiss alone.

He pulls away just in time for the stage manager to inform you that you’re next. Kevin rolls his neck jogging over to the wings to patiently await your performance like he hadn’t just kissed you a moment ago. You blink dumbly, two fingers coming up to touch where his lips had been. Sure the nerves were gone now, but the sensation of butterflies swarming about in your stomach easily replaced that. What the fuck was his problem?

“Our last performance is one I’m sure all of you have been waiting for. Kevin Moon and Y/N L/N with Partition!”

Before you know it, you and Kevin are in position, your body squared upstage and his to the crowd. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist and his steady breathing on your nose. The spotlight switches on, the heat of the lighting warm against the side of your face. It’s silent in the auditorium, but it rings in your ears. You could do this.

Let me hear you say ‘Hey Miss Carter’…

You move on reflex, muscle memory kicking in instantaneously. Each circle of your hips, every turn you make— a fouetté here, a pirouette there, a couple coupes, each roll of your body. But what really gets you is the long brushes of Kevin’s skin on your own. You’d practiced with distance between the two of you. There was a tension that had been there for years. Now it’s all coming to a rolling boil, a new uncharted tension that every single member in that audience could see.

And then comes the lift.

You, along with everybody in the auditorium, practically hold your breath when Kevin’s hands grip your hips. He raises you above him with all of his strength, completely focused on you and only you. You shut your eyes and feel the moment, like, really feel it. Your body is relaxed, the Dirty Dancing-esque lift bringing the whole performance together just like you knew it would. The only difference from the movie and real life is the fact that you’re flipped, your backside to Kevin and your chest to the ceiling.

Your eyes flutter open, the spotlight all but blinding you, and you finally feel content. Like everything has fallen into the right place for once in your life. Especially so when Kevin sets you down gently and you finish your dance with the utmost confidence.

The crowd erupts into a roaring chorus of applause, going as far as giving you a standing ovation. Holy shit. You pulled it off. You actually managed to pull it off.

Your face feels like it might split from how big your smile is. You and Kevin bow, walking off stage. You’re entirely too happy right now, a newfound energy overtaking you as you trail behind him.

“We did it!” You cheer as you follow him towards the dressing room where your things are. You’re the only ones left backstage, everyone else filtering out between performances. Kevin doesn’t give you much of a response, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Your smile falters. “What the hell is your problem?”

”Nothing, Y/N, fuck. Can you just mind your own fucking business?” He snaps, turning around to glare at you just as the door slams behind you. You instinctively flinch at both loud noises. His features soften but you take a step back from him.

You aren’t sure why you’re surprised. This isn’t anything new. Kevin has always made it crystal clear that he wasn’t your number one fan. Being neutral for your performance wasn’t enough to repair all the holes in whatever your relationship was, and you should’ve known better. You shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily. You should’ve expected this. Old dogs can never learn new tricks.

But Kevin’s scared. He’s afraid of letting you in after all the mess he’s put you through. The only thing he’s good at doing is hurting you, over and over like there was a prize that came out of it.

”Look…”

”No, you listen to me,” you swallow heavily, tears already tight lining your eyes. “Kevin, I have taken so much shit from you. Over these past few years I have just sat there and let you unload all your fucked up insecurities onto me. Have you ever wondered why? Have you ever thought to stop and think about why I let you be so mean to me without even questioning it?”

He says nothing, just stares with his lips parted. They open and close like a fish out of water, words there at the tip of his tongue but refusing to make their escape. And then one of your tears rolls down your cheeks and he’s directly in front you, his heart on his sleeve for the first time since you’ve met him.

”Why?” The simple question is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. But his eyes hold so much hurt, so much anguish that you’ve never seen in a person before.

“I’ve had feelings for you for so long, it’s actually starting to ache. You’ve only ever seen me as this thing, this obstacle. And I’m afraid that that’s all I’ll ever be to you, because you won’t let me be anything else. You won’t—“

”That’s not true, Y/N,” Kevin sighs, looking off to the side, away from you. “I just— it’s complicated. It’s more than just being rivals.”

”So help me understand,” you frown. “Let me in, please.”

”My entire life I’ve had to work to get to where I am. I’ve fought tooth and nail to be as good of a performer as I am today. There were so many hoops I had to go through to even get into this program and— and I thought I’d finally become the best I could be. I thought that there was no way anyone could ever be better than me. And then you showed up. You and your pretty smile and your natural ability to be the best at everything you do. It was like you were the real life manifestation of all of my critics, of every challenge I faced to get here. Where I had to practice day and night to perfect something, it just came to you like second nature. During Princess and the Pauper, when I dropped you, it truly was an accident. But we’d spent so much time nailing it, that it— I just made myself feel better by saying it was your fault. ‘How could it have been my fault if I perfected it?’ I was jealous and petty and it was just easier to blame hating— to blame my indifference on you spilling coffee on my stupid shirt. For that, I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what you were waiting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Your tears turn into full on blubbering, because what the fuck? That’s so much burden for someone to carry on their shoulders for three years.

“Why are you— why are you crying?” He flounders, reaching up to swipe away your tears.

“I wish I knew… I wish I could’ve helped you somehow,” you sniffle. “Kev, I’ve always admired you and your work ethic. I hoped one day I’d be half as disciplined as you, half as determined.”

He blinks. You’re both dumb, aren’t you? Too focused on the wrong things. You both could’ve been a lot less hateful, a lot less miserable, had you just spoken your differences out. This entire rivalry has been completely one sided, but also built off of plain stupidity and ignorance. He supposes it’s not too late to make amends if you aren’t running in the opposite direction despite everything he’s put you through.

Kevin leans forward, hand still pressed to your cheek, and connects your lips softly. He’s testing the waters, making sure you’re comfortable before he continues anything. When you don’t back away just yet, he adds more force, deepening the kiss like a man starved. You whine against his lips.

This is what you’ve been wanting from him. More than what he gave you before your performance, but not what happened in the studio a few weeks ago. This desperation isn’t abashed lust, it’s unbridled affection— it’s everything he’s holed inside of himself for years, unwilling to let it see the light of day until now. If you were to label anything as perfection, it wouldn’t be a dance or a moment on stage, it would be this. Just you and Kevin finally bringing yourselves together in the most intimately emotional union.

He pulls you closer to him, hands sliding down to grasp at your waist, bunching up the thin fabric of your leotard. You can’t help but bury your fingers in his hair, tugging when he nips at your lower lip. A gasp permeates the air when his mouth travels south, along your jaw and down the side of your neck. He bites and sucks the tender skin at the base of your throat, ensuring he leaves his mark on you. This time isn’t careless, this time he has purpose. He wants everybody to know that you’re his, that you’re the only person insane enough to put up with him.

Your breathing is shaky when you reach behind you to lock the dressing room, dragging him over to the long vanity adjacent to you. He slots between your legs when you hoist yourself onto the surface. He pecks your lips and pauses his movements, rubbing up and down your thighs. In the dim, yellow lighting of the room, you look so gorgeous. He’s always thought you were beautiful, the most stunning thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, but he’s repressed it for so long. He wants to take his time staring at what he’s avoided.

”You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, kissing you again and again and again. “I don’t think I can last long with you.”

“Can we skip the foreplay?” You ask, bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Need you to just fuck me like you mean it.”

Kevin’s forehead falls to your shoulder with a groan. “I don’t deserve you,” God, he’s such an idiot for holding out from this. You should’ve been given the world and so much more. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. He kisses your shoulder with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

You don’t waste another second, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your leotard. He has to bite down on his tongue when he sees that you’re braless, fingers going slack as they unbutton the rest of his silk shirt. You shimmy out of the one piece, left in nothing but the fishnet stockings you wore underneath and your lacy panties. Kevin thinks he must’ve done at least something right in a past life to experience this.

Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him, undoing his slacks and kicking them down his legs with your feet. Something takes over him when he rips a bigger hole in your stockings, pushing your underwear to the side. His thumb glides through your folds with ease, your slick providing enough lubricant. He pushes your lower lips apart while you busy yourself shoving his underwear to his ankles.

His cock slips inside of you with less friction than he would’ve thought, but he doesn’t complain, screwing his eyes shut as he acclimates to the feeling of your walls surrounding him. You moan, such a soft sound that he nearly loses his balance.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your hips as he rocks his own. “You’re so so perfect.”

The praise is too much for you, given the circumstances. Your brain is already cloudy, stuffed with what could only be described as cotton. You watch with half lidded eyes as he begins to piston into you at a faster speed. This all feels like a fever dream, something that was only possible in your craziest fantasies. Even then, it seemed unlikely.

“‘M close, Kev,” you whine, unable to stay still and attempting to match his thrusts.

“Already? We’ve only just started, gorgeous.” He laughs, but it’s breathy, strained from the exertion of his body. You hardly have the strength in you to be embarrassed about it, especially since he’s seen you in much worse situations.

You nod frantically, snaking a hand between you to circle your clit with nimble fingers. Kevin halts you and pulls out momentarily, sliding his cock between your folds like it was your hand. The tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you dizzier than you already were.

He presses back into you with ease, resuming his sloppy but animalistic pace. He uses his thumb to continue your handywork, your cunt fluttering around him needily. You’re both losing your sanity quickly, both going batshit insane over the bare minimum. You’ve just needed this for so long, yearned for this moment for a humiliating amount of time.

Your moans start to rise in pitch and he groans. “Fuck, baby, you can cum for me.”

He could cry, he thinks, when your back arches and your legs shake with your orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, triggering his own release just as fast.

You stay like that for a bit, regaining yourselves and comprehending everything that’s just happened. So much for the whole hating each other narrative.

“What does this mean for us?” You suddenly ask, arms hooked around Kevin’s neck. You’re still connected by your lower halves, but he makes no effort to pull away. Part of you likes it that way, it gives you hope that this isn’t a one time affair.

“It’ll be hard for things to change overnight,” he says, massaging your sides. “We have a lot of unresolved issues and insecurities that we still have to push past. But I’m willing to do that with you. I want to take a chance on us.”

Your lips pull into a smile, an expression you don’t think you’ve worn around him genuinely in the years you’ve known him. “I do, too.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it was a performance that tore us apart and brought us back together, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“And we fucked in the dressing room…” You add, glancing to the top corner where a security camera is stationed.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone checks the footage,” he suggests. “Tau Beta Zeta is conveniently hosting our end of semester party tonight, do you wanna be my plus one?”

“I would be honored.” You grin, pecking his lips tenderly.

Perhaps happy endings existed after all.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[vermilionsun]

Here's the good ending :]

"Bad" ending here

Word count: 2.5k Rating: Explicit Fandom: Touchstarved (Red Spring Studio) Categories: Other Relationships: Mhin/Vere, Mhin & Vere Tags: Sex, Smut, PWOP, Rough sex, Biting, Public sex/Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior (Vere duh), Dirty Talk, Dry humping, Against the wall, Against the mirror, lingerie, Top Vere, Bottom Mhin, Poor cashier

Vere was silently following a Soulless on the outskirts of Eridia, which was, well, just a small distance away from the Amaryllis District's main road. He was keeping a good distance, ready to pounce at any moment. He stalked silently through the undergrowth, his keen senses attuned to the slightest movement. Light filtered through the foliage, casting dappled shadows on the wasteland floor.

Suddenly, a rustle breaks the silence. Vere's ears perk up, and he crouches lower, blending into the shadows as he tracks the direction of the noise. Vere startles as Mhin appears out of nowhere, swiftly dispatching the Soulless with a single strike of their dagger. He lets out a frustrated huff.

Mhin’s head snaps to the side, and their eyes narrow at the sight of Vere emerging from the shadows. They instinctively move into a defensive stance, one hand grasping the dagger at their side.

Vere raises an eyebrow and eyes Mhin warily, his gaze calculating. He holds his hands up in a submissive gesture. He takes a few slow steps forward, still partially obscured by the shadows. "Impressive." He purrs, a hint of mockery in his voice.

Mhin’s expression remains guarded, their body poised to react at a moment’s notice. "I know how to handle myself," they respond tersely, their voice low and wary.

Vere smirks and steps further into the open, his movements unhurried. "No doubt." He concedes, his pink eyes glimmering. "But that was my prey."

Mhin bristles slightly at Vere’s words, their irritation rising. They clench their teeth, their grip on their knife tightening. "And I’m the one who actually took it down," they retort, their voice cool and defiant. "If you wanted it so badly, you should have been faster."

Vere lets out a low chuckle, his smirk widening into a feline grin. "Oh, I see. You're quite the little hunter, aren't you?" He drawls, his steps becoming a slow, deliberate stalk towards Mhin.

Mhin simply watches Vere, their body tense and coiled like a spring, ready to snap. They stand their ground, refusing to back down. "I’m the one who gets results," they reply, their voice betraying just a hint of smugness.

Vere's smile falters momentarily at Mhin's words, but he covers it up with a derisive snort. "You little—"

"Vere!" Vere's handler approaches the two. "Did you get that Soulless?" She asks.

Vere turns to the woman, his expression instantly shifting to a mask of feigned innocence. He gives her a small nod. "Of course, I'm just... admiring a certain someone's impressive skills." He gestures towards Mhin, his tone dripping with subtle sarcasm.

The handler turns towards Mhin, eyeing them with a hint of curiosity. "Hm, I see. We profusely thank you for your assistance," the woman tells Mhin, while giving a dirty glance at Vere as if saying, 'You're in trouble.'

Vere notices his handler's stare and lets out a low huff, knowing that he's going to receive a lecture later. He glances back at Mhin, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying a hint of irritation.

Mhin allows a small smirk to play across their lips before turning their attention back to the handler. "Just doing my job," they reply, their tone cool and detached. "You can consider it a favor." Their gaze then moves to Vere, silently challenging him to make a move.

"A favor, you say?" He drawls.

Mhin can see the gears turn in Vere's head. Then his eyes light up.

Uh oh.

"Actually," he says suddenly, his tone abruptly changing to one of mock graciousness. "I suppose a thank you is in order. You did, after all, so generously spare me the trouble of dealing with that Soulless." He takes a small step closer to Mhin, maintaining eye contact as he continues.

"In fact, I think some sort of token of gratitude is warranted. Perhaps you'd be willing to accompany me on a small outing?"

Mhin's heart sinks. "No—"

"Perfect!" Vere cuts them off before they can utter a single word. Vere turns to his handler, a sickly sweet smile plastered on his face. He motions towards Mhin, as if in explanation. "You wouldn't mind, would you, dear?" He asks her, his tone oozing charm.

"Vere."

He bristles slightly at the sound of his handler's stern voice, his smile fading just a fraction. "What? I’m just wanting to properly show my gratitude." He retorts, feigning innocence. He knows he's pushing his luck, but he can't help the excitement that courses through him at the prospect of a bit of freedom. "It'll only be a short while. I’ll return straight after, I promise." He adds, his eyes pleading. His handler regards him, her expression unreadable.

After a few tense moments, she relents with a sigh. "...One hour."

A triumphant grin spreads across Vere’s face, and he gives a small nod. "Perfect, thank you, dear."

He turns back to Mhin, his smirk returning with a vengeance. "You heard her. One hour." He takes Mhin's arm and pulls them back towards the city. The latter blinks in surprise at the swift exchange, a flicker of annoyance passing over their expression.

Mhin ends up following Vere (big mistake); their steps measured and deliberate as they eye him suspiciously.

They arrive at a small, unassuming shop, and Mhin raises an eyebrow at the sign.

They take a step back, their cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. "A lingerie shop?" Mhin blurts out, their voice laced with disbelief. "Seriously?"

Vere grins. "Ah, not quite what you expected, is it?" He chuckles, opening the door and gesturing for Mhin to enter.

Mhin hesitates, their expression a mixture of annoyance and incredulity. They sigh heavily, taking a deep breath to compose themselves before slowly walking into the shop.

They immediately feel out of place; the intimate atmosphere and the array of lacy undergarments surrounding them only add to their discomfort. "You have some nerve, bringing me to a place like this." Mhin mutters.

Vere follows Mhin into the shop, his eyes scanning the various items on display with a hint of mischief. "Nerve? Me? Oh, come now, relax. You might find something you like," he teases, picking up a pair of lacy panties and showing them to Mhin, dangling them tantalizingly.

Mhin's cheeks burn even hotter at the sight and quickly tear their gaze away, schooling their expression into a scowl. "Pffft, highly doubtful." They respond, trying to keep their voice level. They cross their arms over their chest. "There's no way I'm trying on any of this."

Vere sets down the panties, his eyes scanning the shop for something else. "Oh, don't be so sure," he purrs, his tone dripping with arrogance.

He strolls over to a rack of bras, his eyes roving over the selection. His gaze suddenly locks on one in particular, and he grins. Vere picks up the bra, holding it up to Mhin with a smug smile.

"Now, this looks like it would suit you quite well."

The bra is lace, and the color a deep, rich red. It looks luxurious and elegant, and would fit snugly around Mhin's chest. Vere gives it an appreciative look, his mind already imagining what it would look like on them.

Mhin's eyes widen. "There's no way in hell I'm putting that on," they reply, their voice trembling slightly.

Vere steps closer, his voice dropping to a silky murmur as he holds the bra up to Mhin's chest. "Oh, but darling, wouldn't you like to feel how soft it is? How exquisite would it look against your skin?" He spins them around to face the mirror.

"It's quite simple, really," he purrs, moving to stand directly behind Mhin. He moves the lace above their shirt, letting it brush slowly along their chest. "I can see it in your eyes... You're considering it."

Mhin's breath hitches, and they swallow hard, their mind struggling to maintain clarity as Vere's words echo in their ears. They feel the heat of his breath against the back of their neck, his proximity sending a confusing array of sensations through their body.

"I am not!" They protest weakly, their voice betraying even more uncertainty than they intended.

Vere chuckles, relishing the way Mhin's body responds to his words. "What's the harm in just trying it on? Just to see how it looks."

"Just... just to see how it looks," they whisper, the words barely audible.

"That's right, darling. Just to see." Vere smirks, taking their whispered words as a victory. He helps them take off their shirt and gently slides the straps of the bra over their arms and shoulders, positioning it so that it fits securely against their chest.

Mhin's heart races as they take in the sight of their reflection. They can feel the weight of Vere's gaze upon them, the heat of his eyes burning into their flesh. "I... I look..." They trail off.

"Speechless, are we? I don't blame you. Red suits you quite well." He praises, his hands gently caressing their arms.

"I... I look indecent," they finally murmur.

Vere's hands settle on their hips. His grip is firm, but his touch is gentle, almost reverent. "You look tempting. Delectable, seductive, alluring…" He presses himself against their back, his chest against their bare skin. His hands glide slowly up their sides, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Mhin shivers, and a small gasp slips past their lips. "Vere."

"Hm, are you finally giving in? Can you see just how delicious you look?" He moves his hands up to their chest, his fingers dancing over the lace, before moving to caress the smooth skin beneath.

Mhin closes their eyes, their body arching instinctively, seeking more of his touch. "Yes..." They whisper, the word coming out as a plea rather than a response.

"Yes... what?" He murmurs, his lips brushing against their ear. He continues to run his hands over the lace, his thumbs circling their chest, drawing small, slow circles over their sensitive nipples. "Say it. Say exactly what you want, and it's yours."

Mhin's body quivers under his possessive touch, their breath coming in ragged gasps. They try to find their voice to say what he wants them to say, but the words are caught in their throat.

"You," they gasp out, "I want... I want you."

Vere grins, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He can feel their body shiver under his touch, resolve completely shattered. Leaning down, he traces a path of kisses along their neck, his tongue tasting their skin. He grips their hips, spinning them around to face him and pressing them against the mirror.

They can see the hunger in his eyes, the raw desire that mirrors their own. "Please... take me," they beg, their voice breathless and needy.

"That's it. Beg for me. Tell me how much you want me, how much you need me." His hands move to their wrists, pinning them above their head, his mouth finding their neck again, nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin.

It's like Mhin's under some spell. They can hardly think; their mind clouded with lust and longing. Every touch, every kiss, every word from Vere has them completely enthralled; all they want is to feel him, to be with him, and to give in to the overwhelming need that courses through their veins.

"Please," they gasp out, their voice hoarse with need. "I need you. I want you. Please, I'll do anything, just don't stop…"

"Anything? What if I want you to be mine completely? What if I want it all?" One of his knees comes up to Mhin's sex.

They try to arch into the feeling, instinctively seeking more friction, more pressure. "Yes," they moan. "I'll be yours. All yours. Please… I need you."

"That's right, darling. You're mine. All mine." He bites down on their neck hard enough to draw blood.

"Yours," they whisper, the words coming out as a desperate plea. "All yours, please…"

Vere's control is stretched thin.

Vere changes his hold and uses one hand to override their leather pants and underwear, revealing their bare skin underneath. He shifts his body, repositioning his knee between their legs. He can feel their heat against him, his body responding in kind.

They instinctively try to grind against him, desperate for more pressure, more contact. "Please..." They whisper, their voice trembling with need. "Please don't tease me…"

"Such impatience. But I suppose you've earned it." He grinds his knee against them, applying more pressure, giving them the friction they so desperately seek.

"Yes," Mhin gasps and moans, their body arching into his touch as they grind against his knee. "Please, more… more. I need more…"

Vere growls against their skin, his hands moving to their thighs, pulling them to wrap around him. He lifts them up, pinning them against the mirror. "That's it, darling. I want to hear you scream."

One of his hands unbuckles his belt and slides it off, his other hand reaching down into his pants…

With a swift motion, he enters them, causing Mhin to cry out.

"Oh… oh..." They gasp out, their voice catching in their throat.

"That's it, darling. Look at you… completely at my mercy." He pulls back, only to slam back in with even more force, making Mhin's head spin. "Say it again. Say you're mine. Say you belong to me."

Mhin's head falls back against the mirror, the combination of pain and pleasure almost too much to bear. "I... I'm yours... all yours... please," they whined, no longer in control of their own words.

Vere captures their mouth in a rough, heated kiss, his tongue finally—finally—claiming their mouth.

Their bodies move together in a frantic rhythm, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Mhin's hands claw at Vere's back, their nails leaving red marks in their wake, trying to pull him even closer, even deeper.

"You're so beautiful like this; you know that, darling? So vulnerable, so open, so mine."

The mirror fogs up and cracks under the pressure.

Neither notices.

Mhin can feel themselves teetering on the edge, every nerve feeling like it's on fire, gasps and moans growing more frantic.

"Yes, that's it. Let go for me. Let me taste you." Vere whispers as he slams into them one final time, sending them both over the edge, shaking and letting out a low, guttural moan that fills the room.

They collapse together, panting and trembling, their bodies still intertwined as they try to catch their breath.

Mhin clings onto Vere, their fingers tangled in his hair, breaths coming in ragged gasps as they try to catch their breath. "Vere... oh... god..."

Vere holds them close, his arms wrapping around them, his body still pressed against theirs. He nuzzles his face against their neck, inhaling their scent.

"I'm buying you the whole damn shop."

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART THREE: THOUGHTS ABOUT YOU

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Smut

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

PLEASE NOTE THAT I HAVE REWRITTEN THIS STORY AND PART TWO CAN BE FOUND HERE (rewritten).

Hours later…

Your POV

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, seeing the look on your face when you walked through the door of your studio apartment which you shared with her.

“I had the worst fucking day” you told her before walking over towards the fridge, opening the freezer and retrieving the bottle of vodka you knew Emma kept hidden there for desperate times.

“That bad huh?” Emma asked as she watched you pour yourself two or maybe three shots of cheap booze into the tallest glass you could find before topping it up with juice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she then asked and, after taking a big sip from your drink, you nodded and sighed all at the same time.

“The guy I met at Temple Bar is my fucking lecturer” you then blurted out, causing Emma’s chin to drop.

“The mid forty year old you slept with?” Emma asked and you nodded again.

“Yes. Cillian. The one I slept with. Fuck” you spat before breaking out in laughter. “Why is this shit happening to me?” you then asked and, even though this question was a rhetorical one, Emma answered you.

“I believe in fate as you know” Emma told you, knowing very well that you had not been able to get this blue-eyed stranger out of your head. You had told Emma about your reoccurring dreams, featuring him, and you told her that, during your one night with Cillian, you had the best sex ever and that you felt some sort of connection to him.

“Fucking fate? Seriously?” you chuckled. “He is 46, still married with kids…” you began to say just before Emma interrupted you.

“Separated” she corrected you but you did not care about technicalities.

“Whatever” you spat. “He is an actor and my fucking lecturer too” you then pointed out while emptying your glass much too quickly.

“Well, one would hope that he can act if he is teaching an acting class, right?” Emma then chuckled but you shook your head.

“No. You don’t understand. Here. Look” you told her before bringing up your most recent Google Search on your phone and, just as you did, it happened again. Emma’s chin dropped.

“Holy shit. No kidding. He’s famous” she blurted out while clicking through the filmography and you simply rolled your eyes.

“I want to skip this class. I really do. I can’t do it” you pointed out but Emma shook her head.

“You can do it! You are talented and you worked so hard for this, so you shouldn’t just give up now” Emma reminded you and, of course, you knew that she was right.

Acting and dancing were the two things you enjoyed the most and getting a role on stage was your dream. This was what you were working towards and, in order to get there, you had to finish what you have started.

You had important auditions coming up for a theatrical piece combining both, modern theatre and contemporary dance. It was the role that was perfect for you and, whilst you were occasionally performing on stage, it never entailed any acting. It had always been dancing because dancing was what you were comfortable with. Acting, on the other hand, was outside your comfort zone as you were still unable to let go of yourself and immerse yourself in a character.

The lines were easy to learn but pretending to be someone else was not. Allowing yourself to become someone else was what you had to learn. You had to learn that it was okay to appear vulnerable at times but, unlike most actors, you were continuously on guard. It was your protection mechanism and this was what you had to work on in order to get through the auditions.

Cillian, on the other hand, seemed to be an expert in exactly that. He was a highly regarded actor and you hoped that, despite what happened between you, that you could work together. You hoped that you could learn from him and his experience and that both of you could forget about the intimate moments which you have shared.

The sex. The incredible sex. Surely, you could forget about it, right? It was just sex after all… Or was it something else?

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian got home, he too was exhausted and frustrated. After entering and hanging up his key on the hook; he shrugged off his denim jacket and balanced each boot on the chair by the door to unlace them. Once those were off, he took off his socks and the he left everything there on the floor, not feeling like cleaning up right now.

It had been a shit day, to say the least and Cillian was starving for a shower, to be clean, and collected for another day tomorrow. A day where he had to face you again, the woman he had slept with two weeks ago and who had been on his mind for the past two weeks.

The sex you had with each other was incredible, if not the best he ever had and now that he saw you again, the intrusive thoughts about you were back.

Leading himself down the dark hallway, Cillian flicked on the light in the bathroom. He gave himself a good look over in the mirror, lifting a hand to run it through the locks of hair that hung loosely over his forehead and, just as he starred at himself, he wondered whether this was more than just a co-incidence.

But, just like you, however, Cillian did not believe in fate and put his mind at ease.

“Get her out of your fucking head. This is nothing but a stupid mistake. She is only 29. She is your student. You only just separated from Danielle. It would be a bad idea to pursue this” he told himself over and over again just as he pulled off his shirt, revealing his freckled skin to the figure in the mirror before, eventually, stepping away from the vanity.

“But she is so attractive. Absolutely incredible. And smart. Funny. Her smile. Her eyes. The smell of her hair…God that scent…her laugh…her moans…the way her skin felt on mine” his mind went on, playing tricks on him as Cillian took off his briefs. He could feel his manhood stir at the sheer thought of you and this bothered him.

“Stop thinking about her. Fuck. Stop it. You are 46 years old and have no business with a woman like this. No fucking way” he then murmured, actually and literally thinking out loud as, finally, he stepped into the shower.

Cillian turned on the stream and his head ducked underneath the faucet head, letting the water pour right over him, spraying down onto his back and dripping between the crevices of his ass cheeks. It felt oddly comforting and he was letting the water swallow him whole.

Soon, the hot steam from the water caused a heavy fog to appear and, just as it did, Cillian closed his eyes and breathed in deeply while thinking about you once more.

He remembered the twelve hours you shared and, in particular, the morning after your first sexual encounter together.

The morning after was his favourite part of the experience and this was simply due to the fact that he got to see the real you, without make-up and completely off-guard.

Your hair was messy and, despite the fact that you were incredibly tired following a night with next to no sleep, you looked incredible when Cillian caught a first glimpse of you that morning.

You were teasing him, wanting more of him. The scent of your hair lingered in his nostrils and goosebumps rose all over his skin when your delicate fingers made contact with the hair on his chest before descending to where he wanted them touch him most.

Flashback

As he was lying on his back, still asleep and with his legs tangled in the white fleece throw on his bed, Cillian could hear a faint sound by his side, waking him up slowly.

“Hmm” he murmured in response as his foggy mind began to remember the night before.

“Good Morning” he heard you whisper as you reached out a finger to trace the length of his arm, enjoying being able to stare at his nakedness in the morning light shining through the window.

“Good Morning” he murmured again in a trance as you sat up and slid your fingers slowly down his chest, stopping at his waist where the fleece was wrapped tightly around his hips and slipping your fingers underneath ever so gently to untangle him until he was completely naked.

Cillian muttered something and you moved your hand to his hip before leaning over to lick along his collarbone.

He tasted salty and gorgeous as you licked down his chest and stomach to his cock, already hard and waiting for you.

“Didn’t we say that this was going to be a one night sort of thing?” Cillian reminded you before a loud groan escaped him just as you sucked his cock in to your hot, wet mouth.

For a moment your tongue was licking up and down his length and circling the tip as you sucked hard and bobbed your head slowly up and down. You could taste the mingled after taste of last night’s sex on your tongue as you sucked, your juices mixed with his cum and your sweat, and you felt yourself getting even wetter.

“We did, but it still counts as a one off until I vacate these premises” you pointed out after withdrawing your hot mouth from his cock for a brief moment simply to answer his question before, finally, resuming your actions again.

“Fuck. Keep doing that” Cillian groaned as you glanced up at him, seeing him watching you, eyes half closed, and you caught his eye, moaning as you started to move your head faster.

“You look so fucking sexy with my cock in your mouth” Cillian then moaned as he could feel the vibrations travelling up his shaft and he was shocked to realise how close he was to cumming already.

This was unusual for him and since he did not want to cum just yet, he used his hands to gently move your head off his cock and guided you up to his mouth for a kiss.

You complied with his request and crawled back up the bed eagerly. You laid down with your leg over his, your knee brushing not so innocently against his hard cock as you kissed, your wet pussy rubbing against his hip.

“I want your cock inside of me one last time” you told Cillian in between kisses before, finally, he rolled onto his side and reached his hand down, feeling just how wet you were.

“You are soaking” he observed while teasing you with his fingers. “Aren’t you sore?” he then asked while your breathing quickened as he slowly rubbed his fingers over your swollen clit.

“I am so fucking sore. But I want more. Please” you moaned against his mouth as you felt yourself getting close to orgasm.

“Then take what you need” Cillian smirked and you immediately pushed your hand against his shoulder, rolling on top of him and sitting up, rubbing your wetness over the length of his cock before bending down to lick it off with slow strokes of your tongue.

“I will. I am going to ride you until you can’t take it anymore and fill my pussy up with even more of your cum” you winked before sitting up again. You rested your hands on Cillian’s chest before sliding slowly onto him, gasping as he filled you up.

“Fuck. That’s it. Make yourself cum on my cock” Cillian groaned as you began to rock your hips back and forth with him buried deep inside you.

You were rubbing your clit against his flesh and relishing the feeling of fullness before starting to ride him properly.

Cillian grabbed tightly onto your hips, encouraging you to move faster, digging his nails into your back as his breathing became rapid and unsteady.

He held you taut in his grip and he would bring you down hard. Your tight pussy was taking him so well, leaking all over his cock, making you both moan for grace until, eventually, you could feel that he was growing even bigger inside you and you clenched your muscles, pushing down hard so your clit was hitting against him with each thrust as he moved his hips up to meet yours.

Your eyes were closed now and you were making little breathy sounds as you felt yourself on the edge before your muscles clenched and you came undone.

“Oh my god yes!” you screamed as you came hard before immediately collapsing against Cillian chest and breathing hard with your heart racing.

Grasping your hips, Cillian flipped you onto your back before pounding into you again, faster and faster, his balls bouncing off your arse as he drove into you, lifting your ankles to his shoulders as he thrusted deeper, before reaching his high also.

You too came again just as he was emptying himself into you once more with a long groan before kissing your forehead and letting go of your legs.

Your legs dropped to the bed and Cillian collapsed by your side, breathing just as hard as you did.

“Fuck this was incredible” he then told you before pulling you in for another kiss.

“It was the best fucking sex I ever had” you admitted, knowing very well that this wasn’t going to happen again. It was a one-off encounter and all that would be left of it afterwards were memories.

***End of Flashback***

“The best fucking sex ever… She was right…It was the best fucking sex ever…” was what, once again, came to his mind as your one-night stand flashed back at him. He remembered how incredibly good it felt when you rode him that morning, making him cum much quicker than he ever came before. Even with Danielle, whom he had been married to for many years, the sex was not that good. It was not that passionate, loud or animalistic. There was something raw and pure about it. Something primal even and Cillian enjoyed every moment of it.

It was intense and Cillian knew what would happen now that he was thinking about you and the warmth of your skin again.

The thoughts about you got him so riled up, and sure enough, looking down as the water dripped beads from the ends of his hair, Cillian saw that his member had become hard.

“Fuck” he cursed again, trying to think about something else, but he could not.

Thus, Cillian licked his lips while the water was falling from his nose. He was looking down again as he braced both hands on the wall, the veins in both, trailing down his forearms barely popping out. He was now allowing his mind to wander, wander back to you. He was thinking of your morning together and about how guilty he felt right now for wanting you even though you were his student and, even this sense of guilt only caused his cock to grow harder and bigger, making it throb from the single thought of your body on top of his.

Cillian then audibly cursed, his voice deep, almost a hint of gravel, and whisper, "Fuck Y/N! Why are you making me think those things?" he was humming to himself when he stood back from the wall before, suddenly, shutting the water off.

Cillian then reached out for the closest towel, drying his hair and leaving it messy on his head when he went straight to his bedroom.

His erection wasn’t calming down and it was beginning to hurt now. Cillian knew that he needed release and, even though he momentarily tried to look at some random movies online, the only thing on his mind was you. How you felt on him and how tight you were.

He furrowed his brows. He was annoyed with himself and sat down on his bed before, eventually, lying back.

His legs were stretched out and he did not care about whether or not he got his sheets wet. He needed to calm down, desperately.

It would be wrong to think of you like that now that you were his student but he could not help it. You consumed his every thought now and, just as Cillian ran a hand through his damp hair while staring up at the ceiling with despair, his other hand drifted downwards.

His was heart pounding now at the thought of you being on top of him, riding him just like that morning you have spent together. He thought about your moans, those little whimpers, and whines when he held you down and fucked you senseless. You loved it.  Every bit of it. He could tell.

Finally, touching himself, Cillian curled his fingers around his length, his hips almost bucking with need, lifting off the bed to thrust into his hand and he tilted his head back, hair covering his eyes again and he released a bitter groan, his own moans filling the room when he stroked along his base all while he remembered how much you came on top of him. So loud and erotic.

"Fuck” he panted, eyes fluttering as the world around him disappeared and he finally gave into his imagination. Thoughts of you were coming back in full force and he didn't care as he was thrusting up into his hand again, pretending it was your body instead. He imagined your heat swallowing him up and, just as he remembered it all, he realised that he was close to cumming already.

In his mind, he could feel it, your hands on his chest, fingers and nails digging into his skin as you rode him, looking down at him with that naughty expression of yours.

Lifting his head, only to let it drop right back to his pillow as Cillian chewed hard on his lip, gasping out a few seconds later as he continued to stroke his cock.

Then, he finally opened his eyes, just at the right time to see the tip of his cock explode with three ropes of cum, painting his abs. He found his release but, still, his whole body was twitching with need.

He dared to give his softening length a few more tight tugs and that alone made him whimper again.

Cillian eventually let go, hands shaking, and, as soon as he got the chance, he reached for the tissues on his bedside table to clean himself up while telling himself that this was it. Enough was enough.

He knew that he had to get you out of his head so that he could act professionally around you at drama school and, with that in mind, he decided to follow his friend’s advice and go on a date with someone else.

It was a date that Dermont had organised even before he had met you but which Cillian had declined to attend. He told Dermont that he was not ready for dating anyone just yet but, perhaps, it was worth a shot. Even if it was just for a bit of fun.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today - May 13th, 1977 - Queen Story!

Queen played Congresscentrum, Hamburg, Germany

'A Day At The Races' Tour

🔸Record Mirror, May 21, 1977

A NIGHT at the Congress Centrum Hamburg, where escalators take you to the concert hall and the bouncers wear suits and ties.

It's been three years since Queen played Hamburg, but it's a near sell-out in a hall which looks like a giant lecture theatre with rows and rows of cushioned, spotless white seats. The stage is tiny but somehow the roadies have managed to squeeze on the batteries of lights.

It's a late start. Backstage, a giant roadie paces up and One week down like an expectant father outside the dressing room. Classical music floats gently over the audience.

Then darkness, lights, action and The Queen Machine rolls into action. Lights explode through the gloom and Mercury stands like Rudolph Nureyev.

He's dressed in a white jumpsuit and May, in wandering minstrel gear, blasts out the opening chords to 'Tie Your Mother Down'. For a guy who shows comparatively little emotion when he plays, the effect is still stunning. The number finishes with a drum solo and tarticle

g bass rising to the top of the sound mix. The Congress Centrum has great acoustics. You could have been sitting in a recording studio.

Most of the audience are caught like a fish on the end of a hook. It's the old Queen policy of 'grab 'em by the scruff of the neck and don't let go for a second'. The lights dim again, there are same tailed some taped sounds and spotlights shine out from the stage. May's knife - like guitar announces 'Ogre Battle'.

Explonding

Mercury makes an-other grand entrance in a chequered cut suit, pointing his mike stand at the audience like a gun. At the end he's lost in a mass of exploding smoke bombs. • The band's speeches are embarrassing. They always sound so self-conscious. "Thank you every-body and welcome to the party," says Freddie —like an embarrassed scoutmaster addressing his troop. It's 'White Queen' and the dynamic duo of Mercury and May are caught under criss-cross spotlights. Mercury tosses his head back as if he's in agony and sings the mystical lyrics before leaping around like a bizarre ballet dancer. Spotlights play on a crystal ball and May stands in the corner, framed in the half light like a Renaissance portrait. He takes to the catwalk at the front of the stage for a riveting solo. Considering the rapid-fire notes he's turning out, he always looks so relaxed. Mercury returns to the stage and the number taste-fully ends as he hits a high note and a solitary spotlight plays on his head and shoulders. "It's really nice to be here in Hamburg," he announces before 'Somebody To Love'. His playing misses the light opening touches of the record. The band try to make the tune more funky — maybe trying to keep the live excitement going, but it sounds cheap.

Half the German crowd are start their British Jubilee tour, ROBIN SMITH went to Germany and found that the Hamburgers were well pleased. Yes, they played a . . .

Good Old Fashioned . . singing along but the remainder keep their seats, showing no emotion. Eventually Taylor's drumming gets the crowd going. The reserve is breaking . . . May walks across to the microphone and clicks his fingers. Mercury's piano chords announce 'Killer Queen'. This time the playing is more laid back, capturing the true sensuous feel of perhaps the most subtle and skilful song Queen have ever produced. Mercury even managed to work in a line about Hamburg.

RAGTIME

The numbers followed by the gloriously ragtime 'Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy' and Mercury's voice is showing no signs of strain. In times gone by, especially at one concert at the Rainbow, he seemed to have been lisping and struggling, but no complaints this time.

The party atmosphere is continued with 'Bring Back That Leroy Brown'. May strumming away on banjo.

It's back to Queen at their most sinister with 'Death On Two Legs', Freddie spitting out the lyrics backed by cold guitar, rumbling drums and bass.

He sounds like Christopher Lee.

"Queen would like to drink a special toast to all of you here," says F'reddie. He sips champagne delicately but - tut, tut - it's not a proper champagne glass - the real thing is tulip shaped. He passes the booze down to the audience.

FRENZIED

Time for 'Brighton Rock' - frenzied riffs stab out and May indulges in some feedback before strutting around che stage. He indulges in a deluge of rising and falling notes and then the nagging riff start, again, bouncing off your eardrums.

Source article ➡️ queenconcerts.com

[harukimurakitty]

Take Me Home, Country Roads (1): To The Place I Belong

❥ NakedToaster x Reader

August 30th, 2009

Late August evenings in your home state of Colorado were vastly different than the ones in Texas, that was for sure. By this late in the day, the temperature would’ve gone down to sixty-five degrees at the highest, and the crickets would’ve stopped chirping hours ago. You couldn’t remember the last time the sun had been out for this long, even in the summer months back home. As you carried boxes of your belongings from your sister’s car to the house you’d be staying at for the next year, the only thing on your mind was how unbearable all of this was. Texas was even more disappointing than you expected, from the thick layer of inescapable humidity to the bloodthirsty mosquitoes that followed you every time you stepped outside.

Initially, you had been proud of your older sister, Sable,  for getting into Fields University, one of the top research universities in all of Texas. Getting into a prestigious college like Fields couldn’t have been easy, especially out of state. The longer you unpacked, however, the more that feeling began to dwindle. It was replaced with thoughts of why she couldn’t have just gone to a college in Denver like all her other peers or at least picked a school that wasn’t in the hottest, most moist environment known to man.

While you contemplated the dreadfulness of your current situation, one of the three boxes stacked in your arms unexpectedly tilted to the side and burst all over the front porch. The sound of glass shattering effectively snapped you out of your pity party and into a panic. You hadn’t even remembered packing anything glass aside from your desk lamp and perfume bottles. Whatever it was that broke, you hoped it wasn’t anything valuable.

“(Y/N), seriously?” Sable’s voice sounded from behind you. Just great, you thought, another lecture . “How hard is it to carry a box inside? Y’know what,” -she grabbed the other two boxes from your arms and into her own before stepping inside, ”-just stay out of the way. Go explore the neighborhood or something.” You opened your mouth to protest, but she slammed the door before you even got the chance. Looking around, you were lost on what to do next. You hadn’t seen any stores nearby when you first drove into town, and the last thing you wanted to do was get lost this late in the evening. 

Stepping off the porch, you did a quick scan of the neighborhood. On your left, there was seemingly a dead end with nothing but single-story houses that looked identical to yours. It was a very picket-fence suburb you had moved into, one that you wouldn’t expect a college student to be able to afford. Sable had upgraded to the house from her old apartment two months before you came along, soon after getting her phlebotomy license and beginning work at a nearby hospital. You didn’t know exactly how much she made, but it was enough to take care of both of you and pay the $1,100 monthly rent for the two-bedroom house. Naturally, she was receiving money from your parents, but that was more of a luxury than a necessity. After you got a job, which was not optional according to your sister, you two would make enough to be completely independent.

Turning your head in the opposite direction, you saw the same thing minus the dead end. The only thing that caught your eye was a dirt trail that seemingly went into the forest behind your row of houses. It wasn’t a Blair Witch kind of path, but rather a Studio Ghibli one. From where you stood, you could see the setting sun illuminate the red and orange trees along the trail, almost as if it was lined with paper lanterns or something. Still, you had more self-preservation than walking into a forest late at night, so you shelved the idea and began walking along the neighborhood’s road.

When you rounded the corner, it was almost as if you had stepped into a different side of town. Instead of the homey, single-story homes that lined your street, there were two-story suburbanite mansions as far as the eye could see. Maybe mansions weren’t the right word, but they were certainly bigger than any of the other homes you had seen in the area. You had no idea how you missed that street when you arrived, but you assumed they were covered by the thicket of nearby trees. Warm light from the windows of the houses shone into the street, casting a warm glow across the asphalt you were walking on. That was another downside to Texas- there were no sidewalks anywhere.

As much as you wanted to continue exploring down that road, you weren’t about to play with God or Texas’s gun laws. The last thing you wanted to do was get shot on your first day in the state for trespassing. You reluctantly turned around and headed straight, not back to your house but to the main road that went into town. As you got closer, you could see a water tower in the distance with the word OTTAWA in big, bold lettering. You knew it wasn’t rare for states to recycle town names, but to use Canada’s capital? The local government must’ve seriously had no shame.

You walked around for another twenty-ish minutes, just looking around all the nearby streets and praying you’d stumble across a convenience store or gas station, with no success. When the sky turned a dark purple, you took that as your sign to start heading home. Throughout your entire walk, you saw little signs of human life aside from the occasional sound of a car slamming shut or a door creaking open. It was beyond unsettling. You concluded everyone probably died from the mosquitoes in the area, and you and Sable were the last survivors. The final girls, so to speak, regardless of gender.

As it turned out, you hadn’t walked nearly as far as you thought. After rounding a couple of corners, you were right back where you had started. Home, or in your mosquito apocalyptic delusion, base camp. Walking up to your porch, you could see Sable inside the kitchen cooking what you presumed to be dinner. Her car’s trunk door was shut, so you assumed all the unpacking was done. You hadn’t brought that much, to begin with, just your clothes, a couple of books, and some keepsakes. Most of your furniture would arrive via FedEx, so you’d have to sleep on the couch until your mattress was delivered. It was the cherry on top of the world’s shittiest cake.

“Ugh, you’re back already? I was hoping somebody picked you off the street already.” Sable greeted from the next room over. You gave her the finger through the open doorway.

“I wasn’t out that long, was I? It felt like thirty minutes, max.” You checked the clock that was hung next to the TV in the living room. 8:20. You had been gone for a little over an hour.

“Time flies when your having fun, I guess.” She shrugged and turned back to the stove, turning it off. You made a sour face at the comment, to which she laughed.

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking corny.” You scowled. “And for the record, I very much still hate it here.” You trudged from the living room into the kitchen. The house was cozy; nothing too big but far from shabby for a high schooler and college student living alone. The kitchen and dining room were combined into one room, with a kitchenette on one side and a dining table on the other. The living room wasn’t the biggest either, maybe large enough for four or so people, and the rooms were a decent size. The house was average but still better than any of the $1,100 studio apartments Sable had previously lived at. 

“It could be worse- we could be living in College Station. Anyway, the food’s ready if you wanna eat.” She leaned the pot she was stirring over a bit to show you what was inside. Ramen. You sat down in the seat closest to the front window to look outside. Not that you could see anything, the sun had now fully set, but it was the thought that mattered. 

“What the hell is College Station?” You questioned as Sable slid a bowl full of ramen in your direction.

“Imagine a town full of sorority girls and frat boys.” She responded, serving a bowl for herself and sitting down across from you.

“No way.”

“Yes, way. I had a group of my friends try to convince me to go there for spring break. They said it had all the cute guys in Texas.” Your sister rolled her eyes and shoved a forkful of ramen into her mouth.

“Did you go?” You asked.

“Hell no. And hopefully, I’ll never have to see, hear, or think of that place again once I graduate.” She swallowed and looked back up at you, eyes alight with sudden interest. “How are you feeling about school tomorrow?”

“Aw, it’s so funny you think I’m going.” You chuckled dryly. There was absolutely zero chance of you going to school the following day. After driving for sixteen hours straight from Colorado to bumfuck, middle-of-nowhere Texas, the devil himself would have to haul your ass to school for you to go.

“It’s so funny you think you have a choice,” Sable replied. Unfortunately for you, you forgot your sister was basically the devil incarnate. You two got along well enough, but memories of her putting Nair in your shampoo came flooding back as soon as she responded. Technically she couldn’t force you to go, and you could easily win a fight with her if it came to that, but you weren’t too keen on finding out what she’d do if you skipped. “Look, we just had the worst drive of our lives, but it’s important to get a headstart on school.” She reasoned.

“What, do they teach all business majors that?” You glared.

“What the hell does that have to do with my major?” Sable scowled, throwing you a dirty look. “All I’m saying is you’re already gonna stand out enough, what with being a new kid and all. Do you want to draw more attention to yourself by skipping the first day?”

“God, you go to that fancy college, and all of a sudden think you’re sooo much smarter than everyone else-” You began. You loved teasing her by making fun of her education. It was entertaining to see how riled up she could get in such a short amount of time.

“Fuck off- I’m going to sleep.” Sable walked over to the sink and began to rinse it out. “You packed your alarm, right?”

“Yeah, why?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t turn it up too loud. I don’t know how thin these walls are, but I’ll kill you if the noise wakes me up. I just drove across four states, and I need my rest.”

“You’re gonna have to wake up anyway. You have to take me to school.” As soon as the words left your mouth, Sable burst out laughing. “What? What’s so funny?” You stood up from your spot at the table to dump your dish in the sink, side-eyeing her the entire time. After several attempts to catch her breath from her outburst, she spoke.

“I’m not taking you to school tomorrow. You can walk.” You stared in disbelief. You had walked around for how long? An hour? And not once had you seen a single school. Had you missed something, or had your sister actually gone mad?

“No, the hell I can’t! I get you’re busy or whatever, but you were the one who offered to take me in. I walked around for an hour and didn’t see anything but houses and dead ends. How far away is this school?” You couldn’t believe this. You had experienced betrayal before but from your sister?  

“Your navigational skills are ass. I’m not surprised you didn’t see it. It’s maybe a twenty-minute walk if you take a shortcut through the trail on the left, probably forty if you stick to the main road, though.” Sable estimated. “Just go straight; you can’t miss it. Don’t forget to wash your plate.” And with that, she unceremoniously exited the room.

The only thing on your mind for the rest of the night, throughout your unpacking, showering, and teeth-brushing, was just how much you were starting to hate Texas and just how long it’d be until you could leave.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Hihi!! As per usual I ADORED my last fill 💜💜💜 it was absolutely lovely

Currently there's several... Let's just say shitty things (understatement) happening in real life for me, so I thought about batting a few prompts at you because you always make me feel so much better. Of course, I don't expect you to do them all at once, it's just so you work through them in whatever order you prefer (and obviously mine don't all have to come out one after the other when people are sending you more; it'll just be nice to get them over time and I don't want to forget them (I thought of one related to the "Swan" singer alter ego and forgot it TwT my memory's bad lately bc of all the stress). Basically what we discussed in DMs).

All of them are with my usual non-binary Reader and set in the "I Guess I Fall Hard", "Cocoa Not Chanel" and "Kiss A Hundred Boys in Bars" universe 💕

Prompt 1: After getting themselves hired as a part-time model and assistant designer by Velvette, several photos of Reader and Angel Dust in fancy clothes go viral, and Reader uses that to convince Velvette to hire out Angel to do at least one joint photoshoot with them. (They poke at Velv's ego a bit with stuff like "well, if Mr Valentino can be convinced..." because of course she would go "nobody tells me what to do or who to hire, least of all that pissbaby). The photoshoot turns out to be super fun for them, and of course it's one of those where the models are posing doing hot couple-y things. Valentino is PISSED, but gets told off by Velvette. Worse, after the shoot goes out, it sells so well that Velvette wants to do it again, and when Val throws a tantrum, Vox of all people lectures him because he's not going to ruin something making this much money. Reader is basically smiling innocently and cackling on the inside.

Prompt 2: (this one would take place chronologically after 1, but if you wanna write this one first, just add a note at the top). Angel and Reader do a lingerie shoot together and get more than a bit hot and bothered in the process. Their dressing room in Velvette's studio doesn't have cameras, so they end up having sex there.

(Add on: there's one security camera that they knew about, but Vox keeps the recording for himself instead of showing Val because he got off to it and doesn't want to deal with Val getting mad for either of those things. If you add it, then Reader and Angel didn't bother waiting to get home despite the camera because they knew what Vox would do and it adds an extra layer of fun to drive those two apart).

Important here: Reader uses the alias "Noire" as a model, so that's what the Vees call them (they don't even know it's not their name) and the name Angel uses for them while at the job, aside from his usual "babe/doll/toots/etc" stuff.

Prompt 3: Directly after "Kiss A Hundred Boys", Angel can't get the idea of being tied up by Reader out of his mind, so he tells them. There's some careful negotiation and Reader makes sure it's something Angel actually wants, and then they agree to dress him up in something pretty, paint his lips (it's erotic for them both), spank him, tie him up, and top him (bites and such too). Reader insists on being able to see Angel's face, safeword use, and not being called "master" (sir is ok), as well as aftercare, during negotiations. Reader themself wears a pretty bondage-inspired lingerie set and high boots too. After, they rub down all the places where Angel was tied up, check for any bruising, take a bubble bath with him, and feed him snacks while cuddling before falling asleep. Angel can't get over how nice proper aftercare feels.

Prompt 4: Early in the relationship (as in knowing each other, they've kissed and such but aren't dating yet; Reader doesn't know Husk too well yet either), Angel gets badly hurt by Val and doesn't want to go to the hotel because Husk will ask questions, so he goes to Reader's apartment. Reader patches him up (and sort of surprises Angel with the amount of medical supplies they have, despite knowing about their job) but doesn't buy the story Angel tries to tell about the injuries. They go through them while cataloguing how they're most likely to have happened (not super graphically, sentences like "someone twisted your arm" for a torsion fracture) and when Angel asks how they know, they tell him they started learning how to patch up injuries because they survived a man like Val, and to survive they had to learn. Angel doesn't need to lie, because they've been there and they're never going to judge him. Angel ends up telling them the truth (however much detail you're comfortable with) and having a good cry instead of numbing it. They get his permission to call Husk and explain, and then make dinner for them both and cuddle Angel until they fall asleep.

Prompt 5: Early in the relationship, Reader is worried that Angel would prefer a more masc partner and not someone femme like Angel himself, and that Husk only doesn't mind because he also likes women. After talking about it and reassuring them that Husk doesn't think they're a girl just because they're pretty, and Angel likes both masc and femme men (or men-adjacent nb people like Reader), Angel decides words aren't enough and takes them shopping as a surprise (with Husk as a "pack mule" pretending to complain) and deliberately picks femme stuff that Reader would look gorgeous in. Somewhere in there, "pretty boy" gets added to the nickname roster.

~~~

Like I said, I don't mean for you to juggle all of these at once, just have them in the queue for when you feel like writing them. The numbers are just to differentiate them, too, not the order they have to be written in. I really really look forward to whenever one of them pops up in my notifs 💜💜 and I can DM you outfit inspo if you want (in fact I'd love to). Thanks for letting me do this, for all you do, and for being such a lovely person in general 💕 🥰

Hello! I am sorry to hear that some stuff is happening but after looking over your suggestions, I will add it to my queue! As always, expect a two to three-week return rate. Have a wonderful day my lovely! Love, Dewdrop/Dewy

[earth90214]

Benjamin Walter Hardy-Parker hcs 🫶

Benjamin Walter because as much as I love Walter being his first name its pretty dated and Peter and Felicia would both understand how cruel kids can be (Peter spent so long being called Puny Parker, he definitely wanted his son’s name to be something he wouldn’t be bullied over) so I feel like Benjamin should be first name rather than his middle name. His parents/family friends call him Benji, but he goes by Ben more as he gets older.

Either an only child or a twin, no other option but I have no hcs for a twin rn so just assume everything here is only-child atm.

White hair and locs!! I’m a big fan of naturally white-haired Fel so this one’s just kind of obvious. Felicia does his retwists/styles!!

As far as powers go, I hc that the powers he inherits from Peter are all post The Other: Evolve or Die. He has organic webbing, wallcrawling, spider-sense, and night vision. As far as powers from Felicia, he doesn’t have claws in the same way she does. The keratin of his nails is thicks and grows sharper, but he can’t retract his claws. Instead, he has stingers like Peter (post-The Other) and Kaine. He also gets fangs from Felicia and pointed ears with thinner cartilage up top. His tychokinesis is a lot weaker than his Mother’s. Instead of it working in a radius and being targeted, he can only target it at one object/person at a time.

Ben’s best friend is Normie, but he also is friends with Gerry Drew and Danielle Cage.

Alternatively, he has a bit of a frenemy relationship with Billie Morales, a long standing rivalry that originated because neither of them wanted to share Miles when they were younger.

He gets into trouble a lot and Miles has been dragged into his schemes on more than one occasion, though unwillingly.

He’s super cocky, which isn’t unexpected when you’re the son of the two most famous capes in NYC, but he’s a genuinely kind person.

He definitely acts a lot like early ASM Peter, but mixed with Felicia’s direct (and frankly scathing) insults. Both his parents get MEAN 😭 its not surprising that he does too.

He doesn’t steal stuff the way Felicia does but a lot of the trouble he gets into results in things that could get bystanders hurt and this is one of the things Peter lectures him on often. “Great power, great responsibility” is a phrase that’s seared into his mind but something he’s yet to fully grasp.

As for hobbies, Ben enjoys sculpting and pottery, spending a lot of time in his Mother’s art studio and incorporating his Father’s love for technology into his art.

He confides a lot in Ben (Reilly) and Miles when he has issues with his parents, but the one person he follows around like a baby duck is Kaine. This is unfortunate for Peter because Kaine is definitely the kind of person to pick Ben up by his ankles and swing him around like a helicopter and then release him as a fun game.

Ben loves animals and spends his weekends volunteering at the animal shelter closest to his house. He and Aunt May knit sweaters for the dogs there whenever he goes over to her house.

[gerec]

More from my Actors verse From Lovers to Friends and Back Again with Logan and Charles finally together and the two of them about to start shooting 'Days of Future Past' with Erik (Charles' ex).

-----

There’s giggling in his living room.

Giggling, and hushed whispers, coming from his agent and his PA; never a good way to start the day, as far as Logan is concerned. He pads down the hallway from his bedroom towards the kitchen, ignoring whatever shenanigans the two are getting up to in the other room. There’s a pot of freshly brewed coffee for which he’s exceedingly grateful, and he pours himself a large mug, grinning as he skims through the texts from Charles that had come through while he was asleep.

He checks the time now; it’s nine am in L.A. which makes it five pm in London, and that means Charles is likely just finishing up a long day of press interviews. It won’t be for a few more hours before he can call Logan from his hotel room to catch up – on how the press tour is going, and maybe have some long overdue video sex. Good thing he’s got nothing scheduled for today but his regular workout, because Charles has been gone for over two weeks now and Logan needs to see him and hear his voice, before he goes crazy and hops on a plane to England to surprise him.

Maybe he’ll do it anyway, and finally ask Charles to officially move in with him after a year of dating.  

(If it’d been up to Logan, they would have moved in together the day Charles finally asked him out on a proper date.)

Still, he understands the impulse on Charles’ end to take things slow, and to enjoy their time together without the specter of ‘what comes next’ hanging over the relationship. Logan however, is pretty much ride or die for Charles Xavier - and has been for most of the eleven years they’ve known each other - and doesn’t have any doubts about his long-term goal. He’s going to put a ring on it as soon as he finds the perfect moment, which is whenever Raven tells him her brother will actually say yes…

(Possibly after they finish the Days of Future Past shoot, assuming they both pass the Lehnsherr test.)

He snaps a picture of Wolverine and sends it to Charles, giving the chocolate lab a good scratch behind his ears as he drinks his coffee.

“I know big guy. I miss him too.”

The dog whines in agreement; he absolutely prefers Charles’ company and attention, even if he’s technically been Logan’s dog for the past five years. The beast is constantly flopping on top of his lover and asking for cuddles, and trails behind him from room to room and level to level. Kitty had joked once that Logan and Wolverine were equally enamored with Charles, and they’d have to learn to share him because Charles didn’t pick favorites.   

Logan didn’t tell her how right she was, and how often Wolverine sleeps with them in their bed.

He dumps the dregs of his coffee down the sink and puts the mug in the dishwasher, and goes to let the dog outside so he can do his business and run around in the yard. When he returns, Raven and Kitty have migrated into the kitchen, whispering and staring at their phones as they indulge their caffeine fix. There’s a funny look on Raven’s face when she turns to greet him, and the fact that she doesn’t sling an insult his way makes Logan freeze in his tracks. “What?”

“Read any headlines yet, boss?” Kitty asks, pouring entirely too much cream and sugar in her coffee. He’s given up on lecturing her about her terrible eating habits, because ‘he’s not her Dad, and he can’t tell her what to do when it’s not about work’.

“No,” he says, and absolutely does not like the look the two of them share over their mugs. “Am I going to see something that’ll piss me off?”

“Maybe,” Raven hedges, then sighs and taps something on her iPad before sliding it over to Logan. “A picture of Charles and Erik together went viral a few hours ago on social media, so the studio sent news out about ‘Days’ to ride the hype. They’re still going to do a proper announcement next week but it’s all over Twitter that a sequel to ‘First Class’ is coming with the original cast.”

Logan reads the headline and curses, dreading how much of a shitshow it’s going to be for all of them, now and in the foreseeable future.

XAVIER AND LEHNSHERR REUNITE FOR FIRST CLASS SEQUEL!

WILL LOVE BLOOM AGAIN FOR THE STARCROSSED LOVERS?

[dweemeister]

95th Academy Awards nominations reaction

I got up early this morning, typed some of these just after the nominations came out, and left it sitting in the drafts. Some personal reactions from me about today’s nominees:

Of the ten Best Picture nominees, I have seen five of them. This is the furthest ahead I’ve been at this point in awards season since 2019 (Avatar 2, Banshees, Elvis, EEAAO, Fabelmans). I do have my work cut out for me here. As of right now, I’m pretty much on the EEAAO train, but perhaps not as energetically as I’ve been for other movies in previous years. Partly due to the fact I can understand why people might dislike EEAAO intensely and partly because there are no 9/10 or 10/10 movies for me from 2022. At least from those I’ve seen. Fabelmans my second choice from those I’ve seen.

And now I have to watch two Top Gun movies. I’ve been avoiding the first for a long, long time having heard way too much about it and people saying it’s just not gonna be my thing. We’ll see over the next month.

Whoa. Where did Triangle of Sadness come from with both Picture and Director? That movie was divisive in some parts, and I’ve heard that it felt like an overlong lecture. The directors’ branch gonna directors’ branch, though - they always nominate one director out of left field. And this year, Ruben Östlund was that man.

Say it with me: in the Year of Our Lord, Anno Domini MMXXIII, we take Steven Spielberg and John Williams for granted. I think Spielberg has a shot at Director (and, as of this moment if I was a member of the Academy, I might just vote for him) and John gets his record-extending 53rd nomination (behind Walt Disney’s 59, and most by a living person). John’s count of five total Oscars (having last won 30 years ago) is too low. But the Academy members, I think, I have Oscar winners’ envy. John also becomes the oldest Academy Award nominee ever.

In any case, the other Original Score nominees this year are amelodic electronic background noise. Where is Simon Franglen for Avatar? Alexandre Desplat for Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio?

All Quiet overperformed here, compared to what I expected. I know its haul of 14 BAFTA nominations was ridiculous, but I chalked that up to WWI being more prominent than in the U.S. - where most people don’t think about it much at all. I’ve not seen it, but I must say I have a lot of admiration for the 1930 original that won Best Picture. That All Quiet was the first sound masterpiece at a time when the silent-to-sound transition was still going on. I’m not sure how this one will stack up, having heard about some of the narrative changes they made to it.

Despite what has been widely reported, Michelle Yeoh becomes the second Best Actress nominee of Asian descent since Merle Oberon for The Dark Angel (1935). Oberon had to hide her Indian and Maori heritage due to safety reasons and we didn’t learn about this until after her death.

Also overjoyed to see Nighy, Michelle Williams, Ke Huy Quan, Hong Chau, and Stephanie Hsu all in the mix for acting. Best Actor features five first-time nominees for the first time in 88 years. Also, that’s four actors of Asian descent getting nominations! That’s a record!

Cartoon Saloon finally has the first blemish on their Academy Award nominations record. They were previously nominated for all of their movies - The Secret of Kells (2009), Song of the Sea (2014), The Breadwinner (2017), and Wolfwalkers (2020; which should have beaten Soul). My Father’s Dragon (2022) definitely was their weakest movie yet and, yeah, that didn’t deserve to be here. Hoping to see a return to form for the Kilkenny-based studio. You’ve got to think GdT’s Pinocchio now. No contest. I need to check out The Sea Beast, though.

What happened to RRR? Original Song only? Not a movie I’ve seen because I insist on watching it in the original Telugu, but my sense was that there was a divide in how it was received. In the West, with critics and audiences having very little idea about the nature of Indian cinema and its history, it was something different and refreshing and was well-received. In India, its use of Hindu iconography struck a chord of Modi-esque Hindu nationalism that has muted critical plaudits there. It’s an interesting dynamic, one that I doubt Westerners picked up at all.

I am so excited to see the short films, as always (and I write up on them too, you can see last year’s edition for Animated Short here). Those last two Animated Short nominees though? My Year of Dicks (not people named Richard, afaik) and An Ostrich Told Me the World Is Fake and I Think I Believe It? What titles. Can’t wait! As I understand it, no major American studios were in play for Animated Short at the shortlist stage. So this should be a fun, independent filmmaker-driven slate.

The Batman should have found its way into cinematography.

Never count Diane Warren out for Original Song, no matter how obscure the movie! She’ll, of course, lose - as she unfortunately always does. 14 nominations for Warren. Glad she picked up the Honorary Oscar last year, though.

Lots of clamor about the decision to leave Decision to Leave out in International Feature. But the International Feature branch usually does very funny things, and I don’t think there has been a consensus at all in this category. All Quiet the odds-on favorite due to its significant haul of nominations, however.

Well, this should be a fun month! On this blog, “31 Days of Oscar” - my marathon based on Turner Classic Movies’ (TCM) marathon of the same name featuring only Oscar nominees and Honorary Oscar winners through the 95 years of Oscar history - is coming on March 1st!

[livingmeatloaf]

[image transcript: tweet thread by John Rogers @/jo rog1, posted Aug 9, 2023.

As we head out to picket for Day 100, there are a lot of positive messages of solidarity out there, true, but for my little corner I want to remind you of two sentences:

"Rejected our proposal. Refused to counter."

There are a lot of punters out there proposing "their solve for the strike", and to a one they're like those tech bro buddies of Musk who lectured us on how Ukraine wasn't going to last a week.

When you see "the WGA is holding firm" on some term or another, that's not us rejecting some middle ground the companies are offering, and being the problem.

We''re holding firm on the radical idea that we want *more than nothing*.

Go back and look at where we left things.

Are we holding firm on minimum staffing for writer's rooms? Hell yeah, because we want MORE THAN NOTHING. Because that's what the companies offered - "Rejected our proposals. Refused to counter."

{Link to WGA Negotiations Status as of May 1, 2023}

View the WGA's proposals and AMPTP offers as of May 1, 2023

https://www.wgacontract2023.org/the-campaign/wga-negotiations-status-as-of-5-1-2023

Are we holding firm on a guaranteed second step and weekly pay for screenwriters? Hell yeah, because what the companies offered NOTHING, and we reasonably want MORE THAN NOTHING. "Rejected our proposal. Refused to counter."

Are we holding firm on viewership based streaming residuals? Hell yes, because the companies offered us NOTHING, and we think what's fair is, insanely, "unreasonably" as we have been called, what's fair is MORE THEN NOTHING.

Rejected our proposal. Refused to counter.

Are we holding firm on minimums for FAST and AVOD, two of the fastest growing and most profitable distributions stream? Hell yes, because what we, incredibly, wildly, believe that's what's fair is MORE THAN NOTHING.

Rejected our proposal. Refused to counter.

Maybe I'm a little salty after 100 days on the line listening to the young writers talk about balancing side jobs with their "lavish Hollywood" screenweiting gigs.

Perhaps I'm a little tetchy after 100 days on the line hearing stories form showrunners, who should be at the peak of their careers, talking about breaking down in exhaustion because they aren't given the minumum staff needed to make a show.

Mayhaps a wee cranky trading stories with other movie screenwriters, trying to top each other with stories of how much free work producers and studios have squeezed out of us over the last decade.

I've certainly been shocked and horrified finding out about the conditions comedy and variety writers are dealing with, as they are openly being driven to day rates (it's in the counter! That's what their COUNTER was!)

Fix this in your minds. We are not the problem. We are not radical.

Will we get all those things? No, that's not how contracts negotiations work. Prepare to be disappointed and pissed off as we give up some things to get others.

But never, never forget that we are in Day 100 of this strike not because we turned our nose up at a reasonable offer, like a disappointed aristocrat.

It's because on points where we were ready to compromise, eager to negotiate -- THEY REFUSED TO COUNTER.

And anyone who frames it as a disagreement between two good faith negotiating partners should not only be ridiculed, but their opinion on anything else can confidently be discarded as value-less.

Now I'll see you there at gorgeous, sunny Gate 4 at the WB for Day 100 of trying to save TV and films and Comedy/Variety from fucking privateers who have no idea what they're destroying.

Remember: we won't get everything. But we're certainly as hell not unreasonable for wanting MORE THAN NOTHING.

Trust each other. Ignore anything in the industry owned press or leaked by access journalists and pundits.

An agent friend of mine said "They'll give you [X] when hell freezes over."

Well, then. Buy a parka.

/fin

End transcription.]

John Rogers, on Day 100 of the WGA Strike.

Never forget: “Rejected our proposal. Refused to counter.”