#these two are literally the same length and same frame rate so they hit at the same time and yet tumblr makes them off time

[the-mother-of-lions]

🫶🫶🫶

[bloopitynoot]

shadowgast fic rec: hurt/comfort

3 Hurt-Angst/Comfort Shadowgast Fics I enjoyed

Okay! I'm not making this an official list because I really want the asker to know I posted this.

I realized I read a LOT of hurt/comfort shadowgast fics but have mentioned a lot of my favs in my previous lists (I'll link the lists at the bottom of this reply) so I went through my bookmarks and picked three others I enjoy (of various lengths):

__________________________ 1- I'm not Asking for Hope

I'm not Asking for Hope (9492 words) by DamnthatGeko (if you know them here let me know and I will tag) Chapters: 2/2 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Summary: There are three discreet hook closures that hold the collar of his shirt closed. He undoes them with deft movements to expose the column of his throat. He pauses after the last one, his eyes widening. Oh. Well, there we go, Essek thinks distantly. Like a tree growing deep roots into rich soil, there is a bloom of dark veins beneath his skin, just over his clavicle. He reaches a finger to touch it and finds his skin shockingly cold. Essek tries to say goodbye and fails miserably.

Why I liked it: It's the self loathing for me, the "I would rather die a horrible death than ask for help", the "I guess I will die and not think about the consequences or emotional impact on those around me" mess of an Essek vibe. This is a great shorter read and I love the several levels of emotional work that Essek goes through in this. As usual- yes it is a happy ending because I physically cannot handle hurt/angst for no reason.

2- Sleeping in the shadow of an other self

sleeping in the shadow of an other self (32857 words) by @nonwal Chapters: 10/10 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Summary: Essek has a moment to consider that gravity-based trust exercises have never worked for him, and then the spell hits. He leans back into it, falls, falls. (In which Essek is resurrected by the Mighty Nein and framed for innocence.)

Why I loved this: Okay but this entire fic was a WHIRLWIND of emotions. I loved the moral dilemmas, the philosophical ponderings of what makes someone good or just, the heist feelings, and ultimately the end (even though it wrecked me to get there). I don't want to say too much here in case I spoil, but I totally recommend this read if you are interested in the Mighty Nein exploiting and using the loophole of a lifetime.

3- Time yields to no one (except for you and me)

Time yields to no one (except for you and me) (85178 words) by Chiakery (If you know them here let me know and I will tag them!) Chapters: 26/26 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Summary: No matter what people say, Essek isn’t a god. As far as the proper classification goes, he’s not even a lesser idol. But he is a deity and the powers he possesses make people whisper his name like a prayer and seek his guidance in matters that transcend knowledge of mortal arcanists. But, in the end, it's always the same: they cower in fear before him as soon as they realise the size of destruction he’s capable of. There’s no reason to believe that Caleb Widogast would be any different. EDIT: Now with my version of Exandrian myth of creation with Luxon as the main star!

Why I vibe: I LOVE fics in which Essek is the champion - or something close to - of the Luxon and this one is especially wonderful. A deity who is painfully lonely (and a little evil), and a wizard who would quite literally trade their entire soul in exchange for knowledge (and attempt to trick a god). The way in which these two very broken people come in and out of one another's lives and find love and family in this longform fic has my entire heart. They both deserve so much love (and it does work out in the end even though it is a painful process!). I hope you enjoy at least one or all of these fics! __________________

The Previous lists;

1. Shadowgast Corporate/Office-Au Rec List!

2. Shadowgast Bakery/Coffee/Tea Shop Au's I Love

3. Shadowgast Space-AUs I love

4. 3 Shadowgast fics that made me ugly cry

[wakandan-smuts-forever]

INSTINCT- a spiritual prequel

Dedicated to @tchallasbabymama 's best one shot (imo)!

Rating: 18+ Smut Warning: Heats, Knots, lowkey BDSM Pairing: T'Chaka x Ramonda Work Count: 667 (yeah it's tiny)

Ramonda could say that her husband was considerably more aged than most people of his birth-year. T’Chaka’s greys had begun showing quite early, right after his first born hit puberty, and his physique smoothening out from its overtly sinewy terrain.

She had to say that this was an improvement in not only his appearance but his temper as well. The fiery, young man had mellowed around the edges yet still maintained his frame of dignified power. Now that was something she could work with…

(Birnin Zana, 1999)

His breath hitched. Her beautiful lips met the bulbous end of his shaft as her glistening hand worked up and down its dark, earthy length. And the other hand, snaked ever so gently over the rolling planes of his salt-and-pepper-dusted chest.

A sliver of grey showed at her crown, powdering her hair at its base. The King’s thumb traced it as his palm gently held a handful of locs to guide her head downward. Her fingers traced blind patterns along his breast, handling a nipple now and then.

She could feel the purring growl building up under them.

“Mm-.. ‘Chaka…” She resurfaced, smirking at him.

But her smile faded with what she saw.

~

“AHHHhhh!”

The Ex- Dora could hardly be caught moaning so helplessly; but here she was at the hands of her Black Panther…

“T- T’Chaka… ohhHH!”

The powerful thrust of his large member followed the expert massaging of her clitoris as she lay, back down on the bed. Pleasure engulfed her, but so did shock:

His eyes were shining. And they were pure gold.

She closed her eyes, trying to absorb it.

~

Ramonda had heard of heats before. It was an inevitable discussion when getting married to the spiritual hybrid of a man and animal.

It was a slightly awkward conversation T’Chaka had with T’Challa when he turned eighteen.

And it was also what just happened.

T’Chaka groaned heavily as his body convulsed into hers, spilling all its seed into the depths of her soul.

“Ramonda, sithandwa….” he croaked, not surprisingly, since he had quite literally roared the first two times he came in her that night.

The Queen was still shocked… but now sated and in a mild state of ecstasy at his performance.

“’Chaka…”

                     “Mmm…”

“Are you… okay ?”

                      “Ramonda.”

He heaved a little, finally making eye contact with his usual, brown pupils. “ umhle…” He repeated to her. “ I should be asking you that…”

The Queen exhaled, grinning. And began giggling-

“Oh well, I hope I get out of bed in a week or so…”

T’Chaka smiled weakly. “Umhle, this was… unprecedented.”

“I was told to expect it…”

“That was more than two decades ago. And I’ve never had it before, and I thought…. I’d never have one.”

They stayed there in silence for a while, with T’Chaka’s still-swollen member remaining within her vagina.

“Once it dissipates, we’re going to check you up.” He whispered, referring to the knot that had formed. “I’m not risking any unattended injury…”

Ramonda nodded. “What about you? does it hurt?”

“Bound to…” He spoke with the same whisper, gingerly resting half his weight to a pillow on their side. “ My body is stretching its physiological limits and- AH!”

“T’Chaka?”

                    “MMmh!”

“What happened?”

“I-” He panted. “I think I had some… stray orgasmic wave. That’s what it felt like…”

The Queen sighed in relief, running her palms across his shoulders.

“Ndiyakuthanda…”

T’Chaka smirked. “Even though you’re not walking for a few days?”

“Maybe because.”

They chuckled together, as they found themselves loosening up. Ramonda painfully drew her legs together, allowing a load of semen to gush out and stick to her pussy hair in a creampie. T’Chaka would have generally dove in, but considering his state, it was understandable for him to fall back onto the sheets, gently holding his bloodshot member in one hand.

They relaxed and kissed, and lay down for a minute before Ramonda suddenly realized something:

“I’m… on my ovulation, aren’t I?”

[angelamoores]

BASIC GIF TUTORIAL

this is for umana but I’m making it public for anyone it might be useful for :) this tutorial is for a mac, but it could easily be followed for windows too. this is for making the nicest quality gifs in the quickest amount of time. this is just how I do it, it is not the only correct way, it’s just how I learnt. 

to follow this, you will need to download the actions from here as I'm making this literally as simple as possible. read how to install a downloaded action here.

for this tutorial, you’ll need a version of photoshop with the timeline feature, and the video frames to layers feature.

 I use photoshop v 22.2 as I think it’s the latest version with both features. to change the version you have installed, click other versions under the installed software section, hit the other versions option and press install on any version that has a timeline feature.

once you’ve done that, you’ll need a mp4 to make into a gif, preferably in the best quality possible. I do this by screen recording streaming services on google chrome on my macbook using quicktime player which is built in software. you can also just download stuff. for a big gif, like this, 0-3 secs is preferable. 

however, multiple gifs per line, like these, can be longer, between 0-6 (??) seconds.

I pre-crop my videos in length and ratio because I like to plan the individual gifs ahead. I tend to default to 5:3/7:5 for big gifs, 7:5 for medium ones and square for small ones, unless I make them 5:7. for tumblr, the width determines the amount of pixels, as there’s an overall width limit of 540 pixels. so therefore one gif per line is 540 pixels, two is 268 each and three is 177 pixels each. the gif however can be any height, which is great for full body shots like this.

next, open photoshop, and select file > import > video frames to layers and then select your video.

by pressing selected range only you can trim your video if you want. make sure make frame animation is selected and limit to every 2 frames isn’t as it’ll make the gif super jumpy. then press okay.

press window and make sure actions and timeline are selected. then go to the actions menu and press the dropdown arrow on the dowloaded action set FRAMES TO LAYERS. 

you now have the choice of either a frame rate of 0.05 or 0.04. personally I use 0.05 because I think it looks nicer, but 0.04 can look better if you want certain gifs slightly faster. then select the time you want and press the play button at the bottom. this will bring up a window that asks you to confirm the frame rate. press okay. 

next, depending on whether you want a big gif (1 per row), small gif (2 per row) or tiny gif (3 per row), select the size you want and press play on that action. I’m going to make a big gif. this action changes the size of the gif in order to fit tumblr’s limits and includes my sharpening settings. if you wish to adjust these yourself, you can do so by double clicking on them in the layers menu here

now we need to turn it from this

to this

I use the same four adjustment layers on every gif I make. for ease, I have these come up as blank layers to adjust as I want as the action called ‘correction layers’. either press play on this action or choose your own under layer > new adjustment layer.

CURVES: this is best used to brighten and correct the colours in the lighting. use the white and black eyedropper tools on your gif and adjust the graph accordingly to make your gif look the way you want it. I recommend messing around and selecting different light and dark places until you find the one you like best.

VIBRANCE: just change the amount to make your gif look more (or less) colourful.

SELECTIVE COLOR: click on the different colour options and adjust the different colour amounts until you get your gif the way you want it. I recommend always increasing the black under the black option menu by at leat one or two to increase contrast in your gif.

EXPOSURE: this one is probably the most important, especially in darker more dull settings. make sure you don’t over expose though because it’ll look bad.

I also recommend the colour balance adjustment layer if your gif isn't looking how you want it to after the selective colour layer. if you’re making a gif set of just one scene/you want to use the same colouring on multiple gifs, just copy all the the adjustment layers in the layers tab and paste them on your next gif.

once you’re finished, you need to export your gif. you do this under file > export > save for web (legacy) (the mac keyboard shortcut is shift+option+command+S). make sure your settings look like this and that looping is set for forever. your gif will look more saturated here, don’t worry about it.

then press save and name it whatever you want and press save again. now because we changed it from frames to video earlier in order to edit it, the frame rate has changed. to fix this, reopen your gif under file > open. whilst you’re doing this, check that your gif file size is under 10mb or tumblr won’t let you post it. if it’s over, you’ll need to either delete frames or put it through this online optimiser.

for readjusting the frame rate, I have a nice easy action called readjust to 0.05 that you can just press play on. if you used a different frame rate, press the three lines on the right side of the timeline, press select all frames, and then edit the frame rate on any of the individual frames on the timeline and it’ll change it for all of them.

to delete frames to shorten your gif and reduce it’s size, just select them from the bottom from either the beginning or end of your gif and press the trash button at the bottom.

then simply export through save for web again and you have a finished gif like this! make sure the name ends in .gif or Tumblr tends to not let them work. 

adding text is pretty easy too, just you the text tool on the left hand side. for more advanced effects, I recommend this tutorial on gradient maps and this tutorial on pretty text effects. any questions on this tutorial or further gif effects just shoot me an ask! enjoy!

also, if you want gradient text in your tumblr caption, I use this tool (just the white box part in the bottom right corner) to generate the html.

[ssplague]

Chapter 0ne

“And so it begins”

Katsuki B. X Reader

Rated M

Warnings: Gaslighting, manipulation, power play, light degradation

The day before the two of you left for UA; Your best friend gave her word to your mother that she would always look after you. Now that the two of you are in your third year she’s officially FED UP with your attitude and childish antics. Mentioning her dilemma to your shared group of friends results in the most unlikely person offering to be her solution to the problem that is YOU.

A/N: The girl in the banner is NOT how the reader is “supposed” to look, it was just a drawing I did specifically for this. You look however you want to, I don’t really make any specific references to your appearance in this story.

🌅

Its Saturday morning; Ive been awake for about five minutes now, but I’m not ready to open my eyes and embrace the conscious world just yet. Hearing the door of my room unlock and open does the trick though. Only one person (other than myself of course) has a key to my dorm room.

“I made breakfast for the both of us, its your favorite” announces Euphie as she walks in, kicking the door shut behind her. I sit up, just as she’s pushing my black out curtains to the side I let out a hiss of disdain as sunlight immediately begins to permeate the room.

“Thank you Euphie” I say with a yawn.

She hands me a plate before settling down on my bed, acknowledging my thanks with a nod as we both tuck in.

“We have plans this afternoon, can you be ready by at least 12:30? No need to get super made up but at least out of your pajamas?” Euphies voice is gentle, but I catch the underlying “I’m not asking, but telling you” vibe she tries to hide.

“For sure”

She smiles at my seemingly agreeable mood so early in the morning and we easily segway into our standard start of the day discussions. “Are we um…Are we going to be busy all day? I….I kinda planned on going to hangout with-“ Euphie cuts me off as she picks up our plates: “No worries you’ll have plenty of time for that, I promise!” Giving me a wink before shutting my door.

She didn’t even know who I was referring to, or what I was going to say….

At 12:55 Euphie reappears to rush me out of my room.

“Hey I forgot my purse I-“

“Don’t need it”

“But my wallet is-“

“Not necessary”

Her tone is clipped, and she has a death grip on my wrist as she quite literally drags me down the hallway. Initially I was taken aback, not being used to receiving this type of treatment from her. My bearings have started returning along with growing frustration each time one of my questions are receiving one word answers, or met with a complete dismissal. Reaching my limit I fail to notice that she’d began to slow down, and I’m wrenching my wrist free of her grip at the exact same time she’d come to a stop.

“What in the fuck is your problem?! You told me that we had plans to go out this afternoon, and you’d treat me to whatever I want!

This-“ I’m interrupted again.

“I certainly wouldn’t do anything for a fuckin’ brat throwing a tantrum like this”

My eyes snap to the side where I see the irritated scowl of one Katsuki Bakugou, as he leans against his door frame glowering at me. Embarrassment further fuels my anger as I turn toward him, pointing an acusatory finger as I begin “No one fucking asked you, stay out of it Katsu-“.

Kirishima suddenly emerges from Bakugo’s room, giving Euphie an enthusastic greeting

“Hey there! You look nice, ready to head out?”. The red head is flashing his signature shark toothed grip at my best friend as he offers her his arm. “You know it” she giggles, taking hold of his muscular bicep. The two of them start to walk off, confused and furious I start to head after them, but a large hand grips my shoulder grounding me in place.

“Bakugo told me he wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on you while Kiri and I went out this afternoon, this way you’ll stay out of trouble and get to keep the plans you’d made with him, bye!” The closing elevator doors add a sudden finalization to her brief explanation.

“Plans?” Bakugo questions while uncermoniously yanking me backwards.

I stumble back, falling through the doorway and landing flat on my ass in front of the now closed door (Which he is standing in front of). Glaring up at him as he continues: “She must have me confused with the local brothel, because thats the only place I’d imagine wearing a skirt as short as that would be deemed appropriate”. His insult doesn’t deter his crimson eyes from roaming the length of my body, lingering on the aforementioned skirt. Getting to my feet, he walks around me and move towards his desk, taking a seat behind it.

“Oh fuck you Katsuki, you can be a real dick sometimes, I dunno what stupid Euphie told you about keeping and eye on me, but I dont need a fucking baby sitter! So ill be off now” with a huff you turn towards the door. “________, I’m not in the mood for bullshit today so just sit down and shut up” he growls, not turning to look at you. He always feels embarrassingly giddy when you adress him by his first name, thats why he insisted you call him by it. That in itself should be an indication of how he seems to favor you.

It makes him almost feel a bit guilty for using a harsh tone when he’d spoken to you. Despite how he treats others, Katsuki is hardly ever outright mean to you; He’s never even given you a derogatory nickname like he has for everyone else. Today’s an off day though…He’s just not used to running on little to no sleep. That paired with his already non existent level of patience makes for a blow up. Especially when YOU were the cause of his latest bout of insomnia….turning to look at you has his thoughts beginning to wander.

Those lips of yours flapping away as you berate him…

They sure would look a helluva lot better wrapped around his-

“-Not even fucking listening to me are you?!” You snarl, starting towards the door again. “I cant believe I woke up this morning wanting to hangout with YOU, guess I’ll change my plans and hangout with someone not so shitty to me…. Like Deku!” A loud crash comes from behind you. The now enraged man had stood up so abruptly, it sent his now vacated chair careening into the wall and toppling over.

“You really just cant help yourself can you?”

His voice is so eerily quiet as he turns to face you, something unidentifiable flashes in his rapidly darkening crimson orbs. You couldn’t exactly identify it, considering it disappeared as abruptly as it had originally came.

“Course you cant, I already know that”

A menacing smile appears on his face as he takes his first step toward you, immediately triggering your natural “Fight or flight” response.

“I know what you need”

He’s only an arms length away when you start to step back.

“You dont know shit”

You somehow summon the courage to speak, but are unable to summon any false bravado to keep you from betraying how unnerved he’s got you feeling as he takes another step.

“I know that your best friend cant stand what a spoiled fuckin’ brat you’ve become, I know she’s so fed up with your shit that she’s about to write you off completely”

The defiant expression you’d worn all this time finally starts to falter.

This marks the first time Katsuki has ever seen how you look when your confidence begins to ebb away, only to be replaced with a mixture of uncertainty and fear.

His sadistic side emerges with glee as your now saddened doe eyes meet his.

“You’re constantly disregarding everyone’s opinion of you unless it aligns with your own, but you dont even know what to think of yourself now that your faced with the possibility of being alone now…do you?

You remain silent, taking yet another step back as he continues speaking.

“You need someone who isn’t afraid to correct you, but they’ll have to of earned your respect….So when you inevitably step out of line, you wont put up a fight when you get put over their knee”

Your back hits the wall.

You swallow down the panic that slowly begun to rise from your chest up into your throat as you realize there is nowhere left for you to go.

“You desperately want to be a good girl, just dont know how to be one, huh princess?”

It’s so adorable the way your bottom lip juts out, but at the first quiver it quickly gets sucked between your teeth.

“That’s why you’re acting out right now isn’t it?

I bet you drench your cute little panties every time you get a rise out of me. Always hoping that its going to be the time I yank you the fuck up and put this brat in her goddamn place, hah?”

You shamelessly lean into the large hand thats now cupping your cheek, letting out a sigh as his thumb caresses your soft skin.

“Mhmmm”

It’s horrifying how easily you just admitted your most guarded secret! The triumphant smirk he sports makes it even harder to accept.

His tone is surprisingly gentle when he starts addressing you once again;

“I can do that for you baby….Let me be the one that finally brings the princess down on her knees”.

Your eyes are practically sparkling at the feel of a sudden pressure being applied to your throat. His calloused fingers squeezing the delicate skin of your neck, effectively making it harder and harder for you to breathe. The thrill of this foreign feeling is instantly addicting.

“Tell me if thats what you want: If its not then shake your head and we never speak of this again”

Bakugo has to at least give the illusion that you have a choice in the matter. Even though its more than obvious that you need want this just as much as he does.

“I want it, I want you” your words come out in a breathy whisper as he releases his hold on your throat.

“I wanna hear you say it princess, what do you want me to do with you”

“I want…no I NEED you to….t-to make me into your good girl please…”

He gestures for you to continue, his raised brow implying you must be forgetting something.

“Please make me into your good girl….Daddy”

The pleading expression and twinge of desperation in your voice stirs something deep inside Bakugo. It was something akin to the last vestiges of some ancient seal had disappeared: The monster that it had rendered dormant had finally roused from its slumber, intent on wreaking havoc.

“You do understand that you’re mine now right ________? Every part of your being belongs solely to me”

Gorgeous ruby eyes scrutinize your face carefully, searching for a single trace of fear, uncertainty, or possible apprehension. All they found was admiration and girlish excitement, and this earned you a genuine smile from the almost always scowling young man.

“Yes, every part of me belongs to you now Katsuki”

“Better get used to this then”

Before you could inquire what he was referring to, he was kissing you.

❤️‍🔥

A/N: So concludes chapter one

Oh god I hope this is well received.

Should I get a tag list together? Is it too soon? If anyone would be interested leave a comment. SMUT in the next chapter, we’re moving faster here because let’s be honest; Smut is what all of us want! 💦

[otonymous]

Come Up To My Room 🎶: How The Boys Seduce You (MLQC NSFW Headcanon)

Hey dear Nonny!

Thank you so much for your kind words!  I’m beyond thrilled to hear that you enjoy my work 💕Lucien is also (surprise, surprise!) my number one, but all the boys definitely have a place in my heart.  Personally, with respect to your Ask, all these guys have to do to seduce me is exist, but I suspect you wanted something a little more in-depth LOL 🤣 

Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for a character introduced in Chapter 17.

Lucien:

Masterful body language: this man is capable of conveying his deepest desires and sparking yours without even having to lay a finger on you

He’s all about those intense stares — looking so deeply into your eyes that you’re powerless to pull away.  It could happen anytime and any place: over a candlelit dinner, glances stolen from the driver’s seat while his car is stopped at a red light, or when you happen to look up from teaching him how to fold origami cranes

There is nothing you desire more than to sink into the fathomless depths of his gaze; losing yourself never felt so good

Words are unnecessary: those dark eyes have already told you that Lucien wants you so badly he can barely restrain himself

The professor is also adept at subtly moving into your personal space e.g. when his lips just barely graze the lobe of your ear when he bends to whisper something to you.  The subject could be as mundane as the weather and still leave you a whimpering mess, wondering if you're the pervert for having x-rated thoughts when Lucien was just reminding you to bring an umbrella

Lucien’s seduction game is so strong, he’ll make you think that it was your idea to have him bending you over every available surface in the first place

Victor:

The Method Man: the LFG CEO has a very methodical approach to seduction; there’s a correct way to go about getting you all hot and bothered

Best believe you will be wined and dined way before you bump and grind 🤣 —  Victor wants to ensure you are as comfortable as possible so that you’re free to completely let go in the bedroom.  The only thing you should be hungry for is his cock

Luxe appeal: “a beautiful lover should come undone in beautiful surroundings” might as well be Victor’s motto.  Expect silk sheets, gorgeous yet functional cushions 😉, fresh flowers, elegantly scented candles, etc.  THE WORKS.

You know you’re going to hit it when Victor tells you to block off an entire evening on your calendar.  The man will literally spend the whole night getting you off - cramped fingers, tongue and hips be damned!

But you still have to hand in that report in the morning.  No exceptions.  Business is business.

Gavin:

Wet ’N Wild: the bird cop likes to incorporate an element of danger in his seduction techniques

This man knows that flying gets you wet - whether you're being propelled through mid-air while wrapped up tight in his arms or "flying" through the streets on his motorcycle, Sparky, the element of danger gets you primed and prepped for more salacious activities

Speaking of which, Sparky will have seen a lot of play in those moments when the two of you just couldn’t wait to get to an actual bedroom

His little secret: Gavin actually knows that you can’t resist him when he’s in his uniform.  That’s why he often shows up at your apartment or to pick you up from work still in his gear, because he “just so happened” to be coming back from a mission and couldn’t be bothered to change first (at least the man’s got his priorities straight)

He’ll deliberately flash his handcuffs and when he sees you blush in response, he can’t help but turn pink as well (and grow a giant boner in the process)

Kiro:

The Playful Straight Shooter: this blue-eyed superstar is actually quite straight-forward when it comes to asking for what he wants, even when it comes to hanky-panky

You could be sitting in a crowded set, flanked on one side by Kiro and his agent, Savin, on the other, and Kiro will still send you a text that reads: “Mz Chips, want 2 fuk? 😜😜😜😜”

Needless to say, the two of you have already christened every surface in his trailer

Also loves to seduce you while showing off his gaming skills at the same time: will offer to help you beat a boss stage, setting you snug between his legs while he places his hands over yours on the controller.  You’ll feel him growing bigger and harder, his erection digging insistently into your ass even as he’s nuzzling into the space where your neck and shoulder meets, dropping kisses along the curve of your skin

Best believe that the game is often completely forgotten as you jump each other’s bones on the couch

!Bonus! - Shaw:

Too cool 4 school, too hot 2 touch: this guy is at his most seductive when he acts like he’s the only one who’s not hot and bothered

When he’s so inclined, Shaw is capable of oozing sexuality with the slightest of movements.  Just watching him drink his Pepsi and Coke mixture can turn you on for reasons you can’t even name.  The only thing you do know is that you can’t tear your gaze away from his lips puckering around that straw, or the pink of his tongue when it sweeps from corner to corner of those luscious lips before they pull up into that caddish smirk

It’s game over when he runs a gloved hand through his silky hair only to have those lavender locks fall and frame his beautiful face in a gorgeously disheveled way

This guy knows exactly what he’s doing - DAMN THAT HANDSOME BASTARD!

Also enjoys seducing you by: showing off his skateboarding prowess (he’ll go to such lengths to pretend like he didn’t even notice you standing there), impressing you with his music collection, and gifting you with umbrellas when you’re caught in downpours while he walks away saying “you’re welcome”  before you even have the chance to thank him

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[letterboxd]

Blurring the Line.

As a new Space Jam film beams down to Earth, Kambole Campbell argues that a commitment to silliness and a sincere love for the medium is what it takes to make a great live-action/animation hybrid.

The live-action and animation hybrid movie is something of a dicey prospect. It’s tricky to create believable interaction between what’s real and what’s drawn, puppeteered or rendered—and blending the live and the animated has so far resulted in wild swings in quality. It is a highly specific and technically demanding niche, one with only a select few major hits, though plenty of cult oddities. So what makes a good live-action/animation hybrid?

To borrow words from Hayao Miyazaki, “live action is becoming part of that whole soup called animation”. Characters distinct from the humans they interact with, but rendered as though they were real creatures (or ghosts), are everywhere lately; in Paddington, in Scooby Doo, in David Lowery’s (wonderful) update of Pete’s Dragon.

The original ‘Pete’s Dragon’ (1977) alongside the 2016 remake.

Lowery’s dragon is realized with highly realistic lighting and visual-effects work. By comparison, the cartoon-like characters in the 1977 Pete’s Dragon—along with other films listed in Louise’s handy compendium of Disney’s live-action animation—are far more exaggerated. That said, there’s still the occasional holdout for the classical version of these crossovers: this year’s Tom and Jerry replicating the look of 2D through 3D/CGI animation, specifically harkens back to the shorts of the 1940s and ’50s.

One type of live-action/animation hybrid focuses on seamless immersion, the other is interested in exploring the seams themselves. Elf (2003) uses the aberration of stop-motion animals to represent the eponymous character as a fish out of water. Ninjababy, a Letterboxd favorite from this year’s SXSW Festival, employs an animated doodle as a representation of the protagonist’s state of mind while she processes her unplanned pregnancy.

Meanwhile, every Muppets film ever literally tears at the seams until we’re in stitches, but, for the sake of simplicity, puppets are not invited to this particular party. What we are concerned with here is the overlap between hand-drawn animation and live-action scenes (with honorable mentions of equally valid stop-motion work), and the ways in which these hybrids have moved from whimsical confections to nod-and-wink blockbusters across a century of cinema.

Betty Boop and Koko the clown in a 1938 instalment of the Fleischer brothers’ ‘Out of the Inkwell’ series.

Early crossovers often involve animators playing with their characters, in scenarios such as the inventive Out of the Inkwell series of shorts from Rotoscope inventor Max Fleischer and his director brother Dave. Things get even more interactive mid-century, when Gene Kelly holds hands with Jerry Mouse in Anchors Aweigh.

The 1960s and ’70s deliver ever more delightful family fare involving human actors entering cartoon worlds, notably in the Robert Stevenson-directed Mary Poppins and Bedknobs and Broomsticks, and Chuck Jones’ puntastic The Phantom Tollbooth.

Jerry and Gene dance off their worries in ‘Anchors Aweigh’ (1945).

Mary Poppins is one of the highest-rated live-action/animation hybrids on Letterboxd for good reason. Its sense of control in how it engages with its animated creations makes it—still!—an incredibly engaging watch. It is simply far less evil than the singin’, dancin’ glorification of slavery in Disney’s Song of the South (1946), and far more engaging than Victory Through Air Power (1943), a war-propaganda film about the benefits of long-range bombing in the fight against Hitler. The studio’s The Reluctant Dragon (1941) also serves a propagandistic function, as a behind-the-scenes studio tour made when the studio’s animators were striking.

By comparison, Mary Poppins’ excursions into the painted world—replicated in Rob Marshall’s belated, underrated 2018 sequel, Mary Poppins Returns—are full of magical whimsicality. “Films have added the gimmick of making animation and live characters interact countless times, but paradoxically none as pristine-looking as this creation,” writes Edgar in this review. “This is a visual landmark, a watershed… the effect of making everything float magically, to the detail of when a drawing should appear in front or the back of [Dick] Van Dyke is a creation beyond my comprehension.” (For Van Dyke, who played dual roles as Bert and Mr Dawes Senior, the experience sparked a lifelong love of animation and visual effects.)

Julie Andrews, Dick Van Dyke and penguins, in ‘Mary Poppins’ (1964).

Generally speaking, and the Mary Poppins sequel aside, more contemporary efforts seek to subvert this feeling of harmony and control, instead embracing the chaos of two worlds colliding, the cartoons there to shock rather than sing. Henry Selick’s frequently nightmarish James and the Giant Peach (1996) leans into this crossover as something uncanny and macabre by combining live action with stop motion, as its young protagonist eats his way into another world, meeting mechanical sharks and man-eating rhinos. Sally Jane Black describes it as “riding the Burton-esque wave of mid-’90s mall goth trends and blending with the differently demonic Dahl story”.

Science-classroom staple Osmosis Jones (2001) finds that within the human body, the internal organs serve as cities full of drawn white-blood-cell cops. The late Stephen Hillenburg’s The Spongebob Squarepants Movie (2004) turns its real-life humans into living cartoons themselves, particularly in a bonkers sequence featuring David Hasselhoff basically turning into a speedboat.

David Hasselhoff picks up speed in ‘The Spongebob Squarepants Movie’ (2004).

The absurdity behind the collision of the drawn and the real is never better embodied than in another of our highest-rated live/animated hybrids. Released in 1988, Robert Zemeckis’ Who Framed Roger Rabbit shows off a deep understanding—narratively and aesthetically—of the material that it’s parodying, seeking out the impeccable craftsmanship of legends such as director of animation Richard Williams (1993’s The Thief and the Cobbler), and his close collaborator Roy Naisbitt. The forced perspectives of Naisbitt’s mind-bending layouts provide much of the rocket fuel driving the film’s madcap cartoon opening.

Distributed by Walt Disney Pictures, Roger Rabbit utilizes the Disney stable of characters as well as the Looney Tunes cast to harken back to America’s golden age of animation. It continues a familiar scenario where the ’toons themselves are autonomous actors (as also seen in Friz Freleng’s 1940 short You Ought to Be in Pictures, in which Daffy Duck convinces Porky Pig to try his acting luck in the big studios).

Daffy Duck plots his rise up the acting ranks in ‘You Ought to Be in Pictures’ (1940).

Through this conceit, Zemeckis is able to celebrate the craft of animation, while pastiching both Chinatown, the noir genre, and the mercenary nature of the film industry (“the best part is… they work for peanuts!” a studio exec says of the cast of Fantasia). As Eddie Valiant, Bob Hoskins’ skepticism and disdain towards “toons” is a giant parody of Disney’s more traditional approach to matching humans and drawings.

Adult audiences are catered for with plenty of euphemistic humor and in-jokes about the history of the medium. It’s both hilarious (“they… dropped a piano on him,” one character solemnly notes of his son) and just the beginning of Hollywood toying with feature-length stories in which people co-exist with cartoons, rather than dipping in and out of fantasy sequences. It’s not just about how the cartoons appear on the screen, but how the human world reacts to them, and Zemeckis gets a lot of mileage out of applying ’toon lunacy to our world.

Bob Hoskins in ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit?’ (1988).

The groundbreaking optical effects and compositing are excellent (and Hoskins’ amazing performance should also be credited for holding all of it together), but what makes Roger Rabbit such a hit is that sense of controlled chaos and a clever tonal weaving of violence and noirish seediness (“I’m not bad… I’m just drawn that way”) through the cartoony feel. And it is simply very, very funny.

It could be said that, with Roger Rabbit, Zemeckis unlocked the formula for how to modernize the live-action and animation hybrid, by leaning into a winking parody of what came before. It worked so perfectly well that it helped kickstart the ‘Disney renaissance' era of animation. Roger Rabbit has influenced every well-known live-action/animation hybrid produced since, proving that there is success and fun to be had by completely upending Mary Poppins-esque quirks. Even Disney’s delightful 2007 rom-com Enchanted makes comedy out of the idea of cartoons crossing that boundary.

When a cartoon character meets real-world obstacles.

Even when done well, though, hybrids are not an automatic hit. Sitting at a 2.8-star average, Joe Dante’s stealthily great Looney Tunes: Back in Action (2003) is considered by the righteous to be the superior live-action/animated Looney Tunes hybrid, harkening back to the world of Chuck Jones and Frank Tashlin. SilentDawn states that the film deserves the nostalgic reverence reserved for Space Jam: “From gag to gag, set piece to set piece, Back in Action is utterly bonkers in its logic-free plotting and the constant manipulation of busy frames.”

With its Tinseltown parody, Back in Action pulls from the same bag of tricks as Roger Rabbit; here, the Looney Tunes characters are famous, self-entitled actors. Dante cranks the meta comedy up to eleven, opening the film with Matthew Lillard being accosted by Shaggy for his performance in the aforementioned Scooby Doo movie (and early on throwing in backhanded jokes about the practice of films like itself as one character yells, “I was brought in to leverage your synergy!”).

Daffy Duck with more non-stop banter in ‘Looney Tunes: Back in Action’ (2003).

Back in Action is even more technically complex than Roger Rabbit, seamlessly bringing Looney Tunes physics and visual language into the real world. Don’t forget that Dante had been here before, when he had Anthony banish Ethel into a cartoon-populated television show in his segment of Twilight Zone: The Movie. Another key to this seamlessness is star Brendan Fraser, at the height of his powers here as “Brendan Fraser’s stunt double”.

Like Hoskins before him, Fraser brings a wholehearted commitment to playing the fed-up straight man amidst cartoon zaniness. Fraser also brought that dedication to Henry Selick's Monkeybone (2001), a Roger Rabbit-inspired sex comedy that deploys a combo of stop-motion animation and live acting in a premise amusingly close to that of 1992’s Cool World (but more on that cult anomaly shortly). A commercial flop, Back in Action was the last cinematic outing for the Looney Tunes for some time.

Nowadays, when we think of live-action animation, it’s hard not to jump straight to an image of Michael Jordan’s arm stretching to do a half-court dunk to save the Looney Tunes from slavery. There’s not a lot that can be fully rationalized about the 1996 box-office smash, Space Jam. It is a bewildering cartoon advert for Michael Jordan’s baseball career, dreamed up off the back of his basketball retirement, while also mashing together different American icons. Never forget that the soundtrack—one that, according to Benjamin, “makes you have to throw ass”—includes a song with B-Real, Coolio, Method Man and LL Cool J.

Michael Jordan and teammates in ‘Space Jam’ (1996).

Space Jam is a film inherently born to sell something, predicated on the existing success of a Nike commercial rather than any obvious passion for experimentation. But its pure strangeness, a growing nostalgia for the nineties, and meticulous compositing work from visual-effects supervisor Ed Jones and the film’s animation team (a number of whom also worked on both Roger Rabbit and Back in Action), have all kept it in the cultural memory.

The films is backwards, writes Jesse, in that it wants to distance itself from the very cartoons it leverages: “This really almost feels like a follow-up to Looney Tunes: Back in Action, rather than a predecessor, because it feels like someone watched the later movie, decided these Looney Tunes characters were a problem, and asked someone to make sure they were as secondary as possible.” That attempt to place all the agency in Jordan’s hands was a point of contention for Chuck Jones, the legendary Warner Bros cartoonist. He hated the film, stating that Bugs would never ask for help and would have dealt with the aliens in seven minutes.

Space Jam has its moments, however. Guy proclaims “there is nothing that Deadpool as a character will ever have to offer that isn’t done infinitely better by a good Bugs Bunny bit”. For some, its problems are a bit more straightforward, for others it’s a matter of safety in sport. But the overriding sentiments surrounding the film point to a sort of morbid fascination with the brazenness of its concept.

Holli Would (voiced by Kim Basinger) and Frank Harris (Brad Pitt) blur the lines in ‘Cool World’ (1992).

Existing in the same demented… space… as Space Jam, Paramount Pictures bought the idea for Cool World from Ralph Bakshi as it sought to have its own Roger Rabbit. While Brad Pitt described it as “Roger Rabbit on acid” ahead of release, Cool World itself looks like a nightmare version of Toontown. The film was universally panned at the time, caught awkwardly between being far too adult for children but too lacking in any real substance for adults (there’s something of a connective thread between Jessica Rabbit, Lola Bunny and Holli Would).

Ralph Bakshi’s risqué and calamitously horny formal experiment builds on the animator’s fascination with the relationship between the medium and the human body. Of course, he would go from the immensely detailed rotoscoping of Fire and Ice (1983) to clashing hand-drawn characters with real ones, something he had already touched upon in the seventies with Heavy Traffic and Coonskin, whose animated characters were drawn into real locations. But no one besides Bakshi quite knew what to do with the perverse concept of Brad Pitt as a noir detective trying to stop Gabriel Byrne’s cartoonist from having sex with a character that he drew—an animated Kim Basinger.

Jack Deebs (Gabriel Byrne) attempts to cross over to Hollie Would in ‘Cool World’ (1992).

Cool World’s awkwardness can be attributed to stilted interactions between Byrne, Pitt and the animated world, as well as studio meddling. Producer Frank Mancuso Jr (who was on the film due to his father running Paramount) demanded that the film be reworked into something PG-rated, against Bakshi’s wishes (he envisioned an R-rated horror), and the script was rewritten in secret. It went badly, so much so that Bakshi eventually punched Mancuso Jr in the face.

While Cool World averages two stars on Letterboxd, there are some enthusiastic holdouts. There are the people impressed by the insanity of it all, those who just love them a horny toon, and then there is Andrew, a five-star Cool World fan: “On the surface, it’s a Lovecraftian horror with Betty Boop as the villain, featuring a more impressive cityscape than Blade Runner and Dick Tracy combined, and multidimensional effects that make In the Mouth of Madness look like trash. The true star, however, proves to be the condensed surplus of unrelated gags clogging the arteries of the screen—in every corner is some of the silliest cel animation that will likely ever be created.”

There are even those who enjoy its “clear response to Who Framed Roger Rabbit”, with David writing that “the film presents a similar concept through the lens of the darkly comic, perverted world of the underground cartoonists”, though also noting that without Bakshi’s original script, the film is “a series of half steps and never really commits like it could”. Cool World feels both completely deranged and strangely low-energy, caught between different ideas as to how best to mix the two mediums. But it did give us a David Bowie jam.

‘Space Jam: A New Legacy’ is in cinemas and on HBO Max now.

Craft is of course important, but generally speaking, maybe nowadays a commitment to silliness and a sincere love for the medium’s history is the thing that makes successful live-action/animation hybrids click. It’s an idea that doesn’t lend itself to being too cool, or even entirely palatable. The trick is to be as fully dotty as Mary Poppins, or steer into the gaucheness of the concept, à la Roger Rabbit and Looney Tunes: Back in Action.

It’s quite a tightrope to walk between good meta-comedy and a parade of references to intellectual property. The winningest strategy is to weave the characters into the tapestry of the plot and let the gags grow from there, rather than hoping their very inclusion is its own reward. Wait, you said what is coming out this week?

Related content

Rootfish Jones’s list of cartoons people are horny for

The 100 Sequences that Shaped Animation: the companion list to the Vulture story

Jose Moreno’s list of every animated film made from 1888 to the present

Follow Kambole on Letterboxd

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Criminal

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Word Count: 1,528

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A follow-up drabble to my Brooklyn 99 drabble entitled The Suspenders. AKA we finally find out who Taehyung is in this BTS/B99 themed fic-verse.

[ PART OF MY JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY DRABBLE GAME ]

Slamming open the door to the observation room, Jungkook quickly ran in and came to a stop. Chest heaving, he scanned the walls before locating the glass panel which separated them from the next room.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “Taehyung,” he seethed.

On the other side of glass, dingily lit by fluorescent lighting and crammed into a chair much too small for his body, was Jungkook’s arch nemesis – the wily, cunning and morally ambivalent Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung wore a black hoodie and jeans, his hair artfully styled and pushed behind ears slightly too big for his frame. He didn’t look like a prodigious car thief per se, except for the continual tapping of fingers on jeans. Kim Taehyung wasn’t the type of guy who often sat still.

Leaning forward, Jungkook pressed the talk button.

“Kim Taehyung,” he growled.

Suddenly beaming, Taehyung’s head jerked up from his chest. “Jungkook – is that you?” Affable as ever, he shook his head. “What am I saying? Of course it’s you. I’d know that sweet, falsetto voice anywhere. Come on in, JK and give me a hug!”

When Taehyung tried to move, he was jerked back by his cuffs until his head hit the seatrest. Wincing a little, his smile remained large.

“You’re in handcuffs for a reason, Taehyung,” Jungkook said sternly. “Maybe I fell for that line once before–”

You gave him a pointed look.

“Alright, twice,” Jungkook admitted, a flush rising to his cheeks. “So, there’s not going to be a third time!”

Leaning forward as far as he could, Taehyung gave the two-way glass his best puppy-dog eyed look. You arched a brow beside Jungkook because, frankly, the look was a good one.

Ignoring Taehyung, Jungkook turned to face you instead. “Alright.” He removed his hand from the button. “What’s he in for this time?”

“The usual,” you said, handing over a binder. “Cops caught him running from a crime scene on 11th. Taehyung keeps saying he didn’t do it, but his fingerprints are all over the scene.”

“I didn’t do it, JK!” Taehyung yelled from the next room. “If that delicious detective you’re dating just handed you a binder and said I’m a criminal, don’t believe her!”

Your jaw immediately dropped. “How does he know we’re dating?” you demanded, glaring at Jungkook.

“I… um…” Jungkook reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. The action inadvertently flexed his bicep, which you tried – and failed – to ignore. “I maybe posted about it on Facebook and Taehyung maybe sent us congratulations?”

“Jungkook!” 

“What?” Jungkook said, somewhat defensive. “It’s not like I can just control who I’m friends with on Facebook.”

“That’s literally all you can do on Facebook.”

“Oh, yeah – I guess you’re right.” Jungkook flashed you a hopeful smile. “Alright, so this one’s my bad.”

Heaving a small sigh, you bent forward and pressed the talk button. 

“I do have a name, Kim,” you said.

“Damn straight you do, Y/N.” Taehyung’s grin widened. “And a damn good one at that. Did your parents name you after Y/N Korakova, the famous botanist? Pioneered the modern greenhouse, but that’s not the point. I was just trying to figure out who I’m talking to. Is Jimin here yet?”

As though on cue, Jimin burst into the room holding two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. He frowned when he saw Jungkook empty-handed, rushing over to give him one of his steaming mugs.

“Jungkook.” Jimin shook of his head. “You ran off so fast when Y/N called, you completely missed your chance to try my new concoction – hot chocolate with ox’s milk!”

Jungkook, who’d been eagerly reaching at the sound of hot chocolate, immediately recoiled. 

“I – what milk?”

“Uh, yeah.” This was from Taehyung, who’d heard everything through the mic. Wincing, you removed your hand from the talk button. “I’m supportive of anyone who loves my best friend, JK, but that sounds nasty.”

Scowling, Jimin turned towards the window. “Number one – I’m Jungkook’s best friend. Number two, this doesn’t concern you, Kim!”

Taehyung cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t hear any of that, man – Y/N must’ve taken her hand off the talk button – but if you’re saying you believe in my total innocence – thanks, Jimin! I always knew you’d be on my side.”

Still beaming, he settled back in his seat.

“He’s not innocent, though,” you said as Jungkook opened the binder. “There’s so much evidence pointing to Kim as the culprit. His fingerprints are all over the interior of the car, he was caught fleeing the scene and there are two witnesses who swear they saw him hotwire the vehicle.”

Jungkook frowned, flipping through pages. The more he read, the deeper his frown got – you were right. There was a lot of evidence pointing towards Kim Taehyung. This, frankly, didn’t make any sense. 

Taehyung wasn’t a sloppy criminal. He was the damn Pontiac bandit, a criminal who’d escaped Jungkook’s clutches many times and whom Jungkook had been unable to identify for years. It wasn’t like him to leave so much evidence.

Leaning forward, Jungkook slowly pushed the talk button. “Kim,” he said, looking troubled. “Two people swear they saw you hotwire the car.”

“They’re lying! Someone must have them on their payroll.”

“Right.” Jungkook paused. “And the explanation for your prints being all over the car?”

“Okay, so I was in the car, but I didn’t hotwire it!” Taehyung gave the two-way mirror a pleading expression. “An old buddy called and said he needed help, so I got in his car to talk. That’s when I noticed one of Banson’s henchmen in his side mirror.”

“Wait – Rico Banson?” you said, eyes wide. “As in, the drug lord Rico Banson?”

“That’s the one.” For the first time today, Taehyung’s smile faltered. “As it turns out I, uh... may have slept with his ex-girlfriend.”

Slowly, Jungkook lowered his head. “Shit, Kim.”

Guys like Rico Banson didn’t mess around when you went after their women. They tended to shoot first and ask questions later. Taehyung probably knew this already, but he was in some deep shit. Jungkook couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy.

“I didn’t know she dated him!” Taehyung protested. “We only hooked up once, but I guess he’s had it in for me ever since. I swear on the soul of my mom, I’m being set up.”

Jungkook’s head jerked upwards. “He’s telling the truth,” he said immediately. “Taehyung would never swear on the soul of his mom as a lie. Mrs. Kim is a very nice lady.” 

Removing your hand from the talk button, you glanced dubiously at your boyfriend. “I don’t know,” you said slowly. “Can we really trust the word Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes,” Jungkook said immediately.

Rolling your eyes, you looked at Jimin. “What do you think?”

“I’m torn.” Jimin chewed his lower lip. “On the one hand, I support Jungkook in everything he does and on the other hand, Kim Taehyung is a low-life criminal who continually undermines my best friendship with Jungkook.”

“Neither of those things are relevant,” you said.

“Taehyung isn’t a criminal anymore – he turned his life around!” protested Jungkook.

“I have!” agreed Taehyung, from behind the glass.

Everyone glanced at him in surprise.

His grin widened. “The fact that I’m getting no response must mean my random exclamation was timely.”

After another moment of silence, you cleared your throat. “Anyways,” you said, returning to the rest. “Everything points to Kim as the culprit, Jeon. Do you seriously think he’s telling the truth? I know you’re weirdly friendly with him, but…”

“Not that friendly,” Jimin interjected with a pout.

“Listen.” Jungkook set down the binder. “Have you ever known Kim Taehyung to be sloppy?”

“No,” you admitted. “Usually, he’s one step ahead of us.”

“And if he is telling the truth. How great would it be to finally have new intel on Rico Banson? He’s been off the grid for nearly a year now.”

“Really great,” Jimin said.

“Exactly.” Jungkook looked thoughtfully at Kim Taehyung. “I might regret saying this, but–”

“You want to drink the ox milk?”

“No, Jimin.” Jungkook narrowed his gaze. “I think... we should trust Kim Taehyung.”

Silence fell between them, with each person weighing the options and coming to the same conclusion. Banson’s name sealed the deal. The precinct hadn’t gotten new information on Banson in months and many regarded him as the lynchpin in his crime organization.

Shifting in his seat, Taehyung crossed a leg. “Damn straight you should listen to Yoongi,” he said with a nod.

Leaning forward, Jungkook pressed the talk button again. “No luck, bud,” he said. “Yoongi isn’t in the room.”

“Damn.” Taehyung frowned. “Oh, well. Good thing we’ve got the entire length of the case to work on our banter. Dream team!”

“Dream team!” Jungkook cheered before you reached out and removed his hand from the button.

“So.” Jimin glanced between you. “Does this mean no one wants this hot ox-late?”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[madsdefencesquad]

The semi-companion piece to Kevin's one and it's all about Mads, of course. Dedicated to Kevison Nation (every single fudging one of you) and to @flythesail and @penny259 (your comments have me weeping haha 😚). Also on ao3.

A little into Madison Pearson by x (with additions) Summer 2026

I first met Madison Pearson a year ago at George Clooney’s 65th birthday celebrations in Perthshire, Scotland in a fashion closer to that of long-travelled friends who haven’t seen each other in years than that of complete strangers who just so happened to enjoy the same foodie indulgence (bacon-wrapped dates, anyone?). Despite the grandeur of the guests present at the lavish affair – politicians, laureates, philanthropists and A-list celebrities (including her own husband actor Kevin Pearson) – Madison Pearson had the kind of invigorating energy that just drew absolutely anyone in.

Perhaps it was the enchanting mix of contained excitement and understated class she exuded that will warm you upon beholding up close, or perhaps it was the charm of a more loquacious woman of California mixed with the rare intelligence of a world-traveller. Either way, despite the taxing social waltz her husband took her throughout the night bumping elbows with the elites, Madison was one of those people who truly left a lasting impression.

Squeezed next to her in the back of a cab, Madison is head-to-toe in Temperley London x Axel Arigato (vintage-inspired nautical jumpsuit and platform suedes) en route to a baking class where her five-year-old twins Nick and Franny are waiting for her to join them along with their father.

“I was supposed to get changed,” she says, lamenting on her attire worn for a meeting with some West Chester development executives that’s perhaps too luxurious for an afternoon of mixing flour and butter and sugar. “But you have to make at least a bit of an impression, right?”

Madison has been the powerhouse head honcho of the Pearson family business, Big Three Homes, since its establishment three years prior. With a solid background in business management and a surefooted ability to navigate the mores of an ever-changing property development landscape, it was no question that Madison would rise up to the challenge of breaking into the market with a business model founded on family, philanthropy and sustainability.

Despite growing up largely independent without people close enough to call family, Madison has also found the means to speak about her experiences in an effort to encourage and give hope to the younger generation of girls and young women who may be going through an ongoing battle between themselves and their self-worth.

“I never felt enough,” she says of the origins of her battle with her eating disorder that began when she was still in middle school. “I look at Franny and she’s so small and carefree and I want to give her everything I never had, but I know that even that won’t be enough unless she herself realises how worthy she is of all the good and all the love that she deserves.”

We pull up outside the baking studio and she brightens at spotting her husband and twins’ silhouettes behind the frosted glass windows. Nick and Franny almost topple over their stools as they rush to overwhelm their mother while their father scrambles to keep his heart rate down—a close call with their foreheads hitting the edge of the marble benches as they got down will just about do it.

Even with her petite frame, Madison carries the twins like she’s just holding a bag of groceries. Unsurprisingly, both Nick and Franny are as enamoured of their mother as she is of them and are on the verge of complaining when put down just as Kevin, grinning ear to ear, envelops Madison in his huge arms—to be fair, he’s always been quite remarkably chiselled but the Tom Ford sweater and those tailored jeans (chosen by his wife “of course” as Kevin credits) is a different level altogether. He leans down to give her a kiss.

Back in Perthshire a year ago at the Clooney extravaganza, I caught up with the married couple the day after the festivities over a traditional Scottish breakfast as we overlooked the highlands of the Gleneagles.

Perhaps unlike the Clooneys, who were still entertaining their guests from all over world, the Pearsons were much more relaxed within their own family bubble. Having just celebrated Kevin’s twin sister’s wedding three days prior with close family and friends, the pair was grateful to spend some quality time with each other and their twins without the need to be anything but present.

From my perch, Kevin and Madison were the kind of couple that were very much “old souls”. They held an affection for each other that is rooted from sincere fondness and adoration for each other—they converse like deep friends and trade wits like secret lovers. And despite the media attention of the adorable moments shared online (often by the social-savvy actor), Madison is uncompromising when it comes to the privacy of their children.

While the twins dipped in and out of the table pilfering scones or taking over their mother’s green juice, neither one of their parents were the least bit bothered by the constant attention they need to provide such a rumbunctious pair.

“They’re so funny,” Kevin said, a careful eye on little Nick who was staring at the whipped cream on his tiny finger like he was contemplating on wiping it on his dad’s face.

I do recall having a good laugh when I accompanied the family on a tour of a nearby 17th century castle and little Franny, a copy-and-paste of her mother, pointed at a wood-cut table decoration of what looked to be intertwined lovers and confidently yelled, “That’s mommy and daddy!”

The fierce mama bear of the Pearson household of four (Madison sometimes calls her husband “kid number three, but don’t tell him that or he’ll get ideas of trying for another!”), remarks that forging her own path away from her husband’s spotlight had been remarkably easy, and she gives much of the credit to the rest of the Pearson clan who all treasure family more than anything.

Even with the notoriety of her brother-in-law, rising political star Randall Pearson, who currently serves in the Philadelphia municipality and is on track for a career in congress, Madison says that quality time to rest and recuperate is a must.

“[My sisters-in-law] and I have a girls weekend every other month when we can where we literally book ourselves a gorgeous Airbnb and just glamp down. I’m talking sleep-ins, endless mimosas, spa sessions… you name it! It’s the kind of getaway that [our husbands] get really jealous for.”

And upon being reminded, Kevin, now sporting Franny’s tiny chef’s hat, shakes his head at his wife conspicuously as if in reprimand that he most definitely should be included in the gals’ next glamping session despite him being, well, not a gal.

While Nick proudly counts five of about a thousand sprinkles that are scattered on his side of the bench, Madison congratulates him with a warmth and pride that is infectious enough to make you think that she’s proud of you too. And despite her husband’s very obvious possessiveness over her—you could count only one occasion where the actor is not at arm’s length from her—when Madison focuses her attention on you, it’s not difficult to believe that this powerhouse woman could truly do absolutely anything.

“She is that and more,” Kevin says about his wife. “Sometimes I can’t believe that this is my life. Our life! Like, she’s mywife, and these two are our kids. It’s just wild! I’m grateful, just grateful.”

Despite the doubts and fear that had been Madison’s constant companions for most of her life and especially going into adulthood, there is a fierce resilience in her that she could only credit her dear grandmother Frances—her own daughter having been named after her.

“She always believed in me,” she recalls, an eye on the twins squatting by the oven watching their creations rise. Despite the deep grief and loss that are quite intimately shared by the married couple, Madison says that it has only made them more resolute in loving their children and each other as best as they possible can every day.

“You just don’t know when it’s your time,” she says. “So, Kev and I make sure that there are no ‘next times’ when it comes to our family.”

When I had asked Madison about Big Three Homes back in Scotland, she squealed at the origin story of its founding, which started with Kevin’s late father Jack Pearson having asked his wife Rebecca to start the business together as partners.

Although Jack’s tragic and unexpected passing put an indefinite hold to this dream, its fulfilment through his son Kevin and through Madison is a testament to the kind of legacy that Jack Pearson had begun through his kids.

“I mean, it started off as more of a passion project for Kev,” Madison says. “But we knew it was always going to be something really special. Especially because his first project was the house that Jack had wanted to build for his mom. And when Kevin had this wonderful idea of bringing the family together to start the business and he asked me to be a part of it, how could I have said no!”

Kevin makes a point to say though that even if the idea of Big Three Homes originally came from his parents, its fulfilment is as much a part of his and Madison’s own story as it is his parents’. And choosing to have Madison work alongside him wasn’t just the best choice (given how much of a boss she is), but it was the only choice he ever wanted or considered.

“I know this is cliché, but I can’t stand not being with her,” Kevin says. “I made a point of this when our twins were born, and I meant it!”

Madison and the family split their time between California and Pennsylvania both for Kevin’s work and for the business, but nowadays, it’s more of an 80-20 split in favour of the east coast.

When asked about a career path carved away from her hometown in California, Madison says fondly, “It surprises a lot of people when I say this but I’m actually an east coast girl.”

This fun fact translates quite well in Madison’s day to day. She could turn any conversation into an erudite discussion, and she will utterly beguile you with her knowledge of books and literature—her constant companions when she can sneak away to her own personal Taj Mahal, a stunning Japanese garden in the backyard of their Pennsylvania home which Kevin built especially for her.

As the Pearsons continue to make a splash in the world of construction, politics, arts and entertainment—a rare mix indeed for a family in the spotlight—Madison is determined to continue writing a story with her husband and her children that she never had growing up.

With the twins happily destroying their creations by the mouthfuls, Madison promises that another visit is a must and perhaps this time, she can show us a collection of Kevin’s baby photos coupled with her own personal commentary to boot.

And who would say no to that.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Jensen Ackles: Green Eyes Meet

*Not My GIF* 

Paring: Jensen Ackles x Reader 

Pov: Jensen Ackles  

Rating: Adult Mature 

Warnings: Sexy Jensen, Green eyes addiction. Swearing, self-image problems, 

Summary: Jensen had never really liked his bright green eyes, but that ended after he met his new personal assistant on the Supernatural Set. Her green eyes grabbing his attention immediately, maybe he did like his green eyes afterall.  

Word Count : 1,653

Since I had been a kid I never liked my bright green eyes. Never was teased for them but the constant fawning over by girls in high school was annoying. That feature was like a crooked nose that everyone noticed and wanted to talk about behind your back, and sometimes in front of you, to you.

When I was a senior in high school my girlfriend was only with me because of that one feature, she had paraded me around to her friends, and family. Showing me off like I was a prize possession a toy. Not her boyfriend the boy she “loved”.

It was like my green eye was the only thing that people saw. Not my work, my thoughts, my personalities. Nothing. In college which was a fucking nightmare, there was another girl her name was Dorothy, she was so cute at least 20 years ago she was cute.

Her personality, her style everything about her was adorable. But yet again a failed relationship all because she was only there for my eye, yet again I have paraded around to parties, functions. Made to feel like she really “loved me”.

I again broke up and went through that motion. Finally, after 20 years I was not an adult but I was getting jobs. I did do a few modeling jobs, acting was sprinkled in too. Then what seemed like a big boom of celebration I was cast in the show Supernatural with a lifetime friend now Jared.

Years Later

Casting and building Supernatural was the best time of my life. A show that was dedicated to two brothers trying to save the world. A fan base that was amazing, best friends for the first time that wanted to be my friend because of me and not what I looked like.

Onset we all had our own personal assistant. Misha had an older woman in her late 30s her attitude every day was to make Misha smile and laugh, be in the goofy mood that every day had been presented.

Jared had another young woman late 20s. She was a fan of the show before we really hit off on the CW. She had gotten the job when she wanted to do an internship, and of course, with Jared being his normal passionate loving, caring person he loved her and always brought her to lunch she was more of a friend if Jared then his personal assistant.

I on the other hand had gone through what seemed to have been at least 6 or 7 younger, and older women. I guess you could compare it to prince charming trying to find Cinderella, every single girl had to size every girl had to have the position.

There was Ashley a young girl, she had brown shoulder-length hair, a straight smile, blue eyes, but she was all over the place with very bad ADHD. She simply wasn’t made for a schedule type of job, but I still made sure her reference papers were nicely written more focused on her great skills rather the ones that needed work.

There was Rebecca, she was middle-aged women, her two adorable kids was all she ever talked about but she was tired and could never keep up with the many types of different things we were always doing.

There was Annie. A straightforward mess of a person, she had a very bad RBF always thought I had done something wrong. I was very quick to say “I need a new personal assistant!”

There was Jessica. A sweet 20-year-old girl, a shorty with an attitude, and a very bad temper with everyone expect with me. I knew that would never work, so yet again I had to ask HR to find me a new PA.

There were Mrs.Miller older women in her late 40s. She was organized, and very sweet but she was sadly was only doing this job while her husband was out of a job. So she went which was quite sad, but I again had to ask.

Then there was Y/n. Her personality was all I ever wanted in a PA. She made life so easy, always at my trailer before I was with a coffee in hand for me and herself. An inquiry of what the day was packed with, always had my lines and would chat with me during lunch. She was exactly what I was looking for. Only after 5 years of yearning and wanting someone with the correct skills.

______________________       Jensen A.    ___________________________

After another 5 years, Y/n and I had the best friendship I have with anyone since I met Jared and Misha. She so sweet and kind, she’d pick me up drunk from the bar, or go with me to premiers of literally anything. We’d go out to see stupid horror movies or funny romcoms. We were like the best of best friends. We were definitely in the hall of best friends.

The many times I had come to Y/n rescue after douche bag dick heads had fucked her over. Leaving her at dinner by herself, driving her home to watch something, and eat a whole tub of ice cream. I was her rock and she was mine.

I never noticed that she and I had the same colored eyes until about two weeks ago when she had on this bright purple jacket. Her eyes popping with the contrast. She was the most beautiful that day she wore a purple jacket with a black turtleneck with a pair of cargo pants and lace-up boots. Just as beautiful as the first day I had met her and every day after that one.

She smelled of peppermint and roses, her makeup light and cute. The pink hue to her cheeks was so adorable. That day we had a few scenes and then an interview and that was it. I drove her home that night and slept blissfully.

As the weeks went on my need to be closer and always around Y/n grew stronger. We’d sit down for lunch and sit down next to her instead of in front of her. I’d bring her coffee during a rough patch.

But one day I think she started to catch on, she’d stop me every day and hug me, like it was the end of the world.

A knock on my trailer door

“Jensen, do you mind if I come in?” Her voice was timid and tired from a day worth of work.

“Yeah, of course, you can come in Y/n.” I got up and opened the trailer door. Her small built frame came into view. Today I hadn’t seen her but once in the morning and now. She was wearing a blue crop top, black pants, a pair of vans. Again such a beautiful as the first day I saw her.

She came in and sat down in her regular seat. She didn’t have any papers on notebooks with her. She probably just wanted to sit in silence enjoying the time together.

“Jensen, how was your day?” she asked.

“Y/n, my day was perfectly fine. How was yours?” This was odd, a normal conversation. This wasn’t what I was used to with her.

“My day was tuff. Do you mind if she just lay down for a minute was something on the tv? Too many thought going on right now.” Her words shy, it sounded as if she were going to cry.

I wrapped my hand around hers and dragged her towards the back of the trailer, a spot where we would relax after a hard day's work, talk about things, do what we wanted to do which was just sit down and watch something. She plopped down and pulled her shoes off, and sat beside her laying my arm out so she could lay down.

If others were to see us like this they would say that we were a couple. Something that I would love but I knew better, she knew better right?

“Jensen, thank you,” She said after a while. I hummed in response, the clock wrote 9:30 on it. It was late but I had clothes here so if we did end up falling asleep here it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Another hour went by, and Y/n got up. She faced me, sitting crisscrossed. Breathing in deep she began to speak, so I turned off the sound to the tv.

“Jensen, You are the best friend I have ever had. Something I don’t want to ruin with what I’m about to say, I’m going to tell you the truth about how I feel, how I’ve felt for the past five years. It’s hard for me because of course, I don’t know where you are emotional and everything, so here it goes. Jensen, I fell in love with you 5 years ago. I fell in love with your personality, your character, your passion, your love for others, your fans. I love fell in everything about you. This could ruin everything we have but I ho..”

She just looked so beautiful at that moment after so many years of loving her from afar. Jared had seen me fall in love with her, told me to just tell her, I was scared I’d ruin the friendship we had built. So I kissed her, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“I have loved you since the beginning too Y/n. You’re the smartest, most caring person I have met in a long time. You are so beautiful sorry I cut you off but I have been waiting to do that for a long time you know.” I said with my hands still pushed into her sides

She giggled, and leaned her head against mine, and hummed in response. And for the first time I felt like I was living my dream, I was with the person I truly love and that loved me back.

Tag List- @akshi8278​

[yeah-klave]

Pink Paint

Summary: A young, confused Dave reflects on his interactions with the beautiful stranger who bought pink paint. 

A/N: Set in the season 2 timeline, between Dave’s visit to the mansion and the time he got on the bus.

Word length: 1.5k

Warning: Mature content, canon-compliant homophobia, sexuality crisis, shame. 

Requested: Yes

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

*****************************************************

Dave shifted restlessly and rolled over again. The sheet twisted under him and he wiggled until he could release it and pull it up over his shoulder. The quiet of the night pressed against him but his thoughts continued to race. I know you. He could hear a clock ticking somewhere downstairs. He flipped the pillow over to the cool side. I know you. The clock kept ticking. Down the hall, soft snores came from his uncle’s room. I love you. He shifted onto an elbow and punched his pillow into a more comfortable position. And someday… He sighed and rolled onto his back. He brought his hands up and scrubbed them furiously across his face. Someday, you’ll love me too…

Dave opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, giving up on the thought of sleep.

It was a joke… or a trick… or a scam… or something… It had to be. There is no way – absolutely no way – that the man from the store, the guy who came in to buy pink paint – Klaus Hargreeves – could actually be what he said he was. There’s no way he could actually have lived in the future. That’s just… beyond ridiculous.

Dave gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes again.

Yeah. That’s it. It was all a trick. Because time-travel isn’t possible. And all that stuff he said about, well, about the two of them… and what they become… what they end up meaning to each other… No, thought Dave. It must all be part of the scam. It must be part of whatever angle Klaus was working. Dave didn’t know what that could be…

Maybe, Dave thought, maybe Klaus got the idea after the first time he came in the store? Maybe he suspected something. Had Dave done something to give off a vibe? Was it because he suggested pink paint? Was it based on anything? Or was it just a stab in the dark that had happened to hit the mark?

Maybe Klaus was trying to trick Dave into admitting something. Maybe he was trying to draw him in with his flamboyance, he sincere words, his handsome face. Maybe he was playing Dave. Maybe he was doing anything he could to make Dave admit, on some level, that what he was saying could be true…? Entertaining the possibility and thereby indirectly confirming his – Dave coughed uncomfortably – particular interests.

Maybe he was waiting for Dave to slip up and then he’d laugh and point in Dave’s face and gloat got you! Made you admit it! Queer! Maybe he was working with his uncle…? Maybe they were in it together?

Dave frowned. No, he thought, just no. What would be the point of that? What would either of them gain from that? He was just catastrophising now.

So, maybe it wasn’t anything to do with his uncle. But that didn’t mean Klaus wasn’t still trying to scam him on his own. Solo.

If the incident had been contained only to the diner, then Dave would find it easier to believe that Klaus was trying to call him out in front of his uncle. But he hadn’t just done it in the diner, he’d kept it up even when Dave went to see him at the… mansion compound. And there hadn’t been anyone else around then but his… followers.

Also… just think of his hair! His clothes! That would have been a lot of effort to go too to appear – Dave sighed again – queer. So maybe Klaus wasn’t pretending to be something to try to get Dave to admit it too. Maybe Klaus just was… that.

So what could his angle be? Maybe he was trying to get Dave to do something for him. Some kind of – in the dark of his room, Dave still blushed – sexual thing for him. But Klaus hadn’t said anything like that, hadn’t even hinted at that. What had he actually said? He’d asked – well he’d begged – Dave not to enlist. That was all.

And that was another thing – those dog tags. That was such an extreme length to go to for a prank, or a joke, or a scam. It didn’t really seem like he needed to start recruiting. He was surrounded by people who literally worshiped him. Why would he go to sooooo much trouble to warn Dave not to enlist? There seemed no logical sense to it.

So maybe… maybe… – Dave took a deep breath, trying to ground himself – maybe it wasn’t a scam…

Maybe the only logical conclusion was that Klaus really had come from the future, that he really had known Dave, that he really did know when and how Dave would die? Maybe he really was someone who’d seen his friend killed and had later found a way to come back to try to help him? It felt almost beyond belief, but at the same time, also felt… right.

I mean, Dave thought uneasily, he did seem to know a lot about me. Most of it was true. He did get his uncle’s name wrong and talked about a book that Dave had never heard of… but, maybe that’s the kind of thing that someone who could time travel would get wrong. Maybe it’s easy to forget what someone you know in the future, knows about themselves at the time you go back in the past to speak to them. Maybe you would forget the name of an uncle if the last time you heard the name was years in the future, in the middle of a war. It’s not like you’d be taking notes. A con artist would probably have made sure to get details like that correct. So maybe it really was true…

But what had Dave done? He’d punched him and thrown his kindness back in his face.

Dave started to feel sick.

Also, Klaus hadn’t said they were just friends, he’d said he loved him and that Dave had loved Klaus back.

Dave swallowed thickly. If he was going to love a man, Dave thought, he wouldn’t be too surprised to find out it was someone like Klaus. That man was just breathtakingly beautiful. Dave closed his eyes and pictured him again: his big green eyes and dark lashes, his thin frame and sun-kissed skin, the juxtaposition of his physical fragility and his strength of character. Dave sighed. Klaus had seemed so confident in who he was and of his right to exist in the world. But then he had looked at Dave and Dave thought he saw him shrink before his eyes. He had pulled his sleeves down over his hands and curled his shoulders inward, as though trying to make himself seem as small and unimposing as possible. He looked fragile. Delicate. Breakable. Broken? Behind the confidence, his body language seemed to plead: please hold me. And despite every poisonous word that had been poured into him during his life, Dave had wanted to. Had longed to, even.

Yes, out of everything Klaus had said, the notion that a future version of himself falls in love with someone like Klaus was the least unlikely scenario.

Dave sighed and shifted again. Thinking about Klaus in that way had caused a stirring between his legs. He breathed deeply and willed the feelings away. He really did try.

But the image of Klaus came back to him – his big, pleading eyes, his plump lips, his narrow waist, his… Dave took a shuddering breath… his deliciously curved ass…

It was no good. Dave was fully hard now and the willpower it took to resist taking himself in hand was beyond even his control.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he slipped his hand down beneath the sheets.

I’m just… dealing with the problem, Dave thought to himself. Just getting the inevitable over with so I can finally get to sleep. He honestly tried to convince himself that.

He started with a firm, brisk pace, almost bordering rough. Something to just get him there as quickly as possible. He tried to clear his mind. He really did.

But then Klaus was there again. A breathtakingly beautiful mirage. A seductive temptation. A heart-breaking hope.

What if it was true? What if there really was a future waiting for him with Klaus? A future where he could look deep into those hypnotic green eyes and reach out and cup Klaus’ cheek and feel him warm and soft and real in his hand. A future where he could lean forwards and tilt his head and kiss him… A future where they could take that kiss further…

With a twisting jolt, Dave’s pleasure crested and he curled forwards, jaw clenched, and shuddered his release onto his flat, pale stomach. The soft grunt he let slip sounded painfully loud in the silence of the sleeping house.

Dave took a deep, shaking breath. He closed his eyes. As his heart-rate returned to normal and the cum began to cool and dry on his skin, Dave let the feelings wash over him. The shame and confusion and fear and desire and – above all – hope.

Downstairs, the clock ticked on.

[yeojaa]

❪  TO THE MOON AND BACK!  ❫

You use your one brain cell for love.  It doesn’t always end well.

pairing.  kth x named f!reader.  jjk x named f!reader.

genre +  rating.   non-idol!au.  fluff, a bit of angst.  general.    

tags / warnings.  none!  this chapter is pretty sad but also pretty happy?  “balanced, as all things should be.” - thanos, and also me.

wc.  3.9k

chapter 11.

“Are you ever going to do anything with them?”

You’re so focused on the melody that you don’t recognize the words immediately, his voice playing somewhere beyond your recognition.  It takes a long few moments of staring at Yoongi’s face, his moving lips, for you to realize he’s speaking to you.  

Headphones are tugged off your head and carefully returned to the stand at your elbow.

“Sorry?”  

“I said ‘are you ever going to do anything with them?’” 

It feels like you’re missing an integral part of the conversation.  Forehead furrows, following the lead of your mouth as it purses, little indent forming between your brows.  “With what?” 

“The songs.”  He doesn’t have to say much more.

“Oh.”  Your lack of answer doesn’t seem to deter him, his expression politely interested, if not a little tired.  You feel a pang of guilt for the fact that you’ve had such long nights lately - sessions passing the stroke of midnight more often than not. 

While it wasn’t your fault, you saw the toll it took on him - found evidence of it in the bags beneath his eyes, heavy enough to incur an additional charge at the airport counter.

He refocuses your attention:  “Yes?  No?”

“I… don’t know.”  You hadn’t considered it, honestly.  The songs had originally been written to give your misery an outlet.  You’d never considered what would happen to them once they were fully formed.   

You’re also not sure why he’s asking.  It’s been at least four months since you’d even thought about them.  Now they sat in the back of your mind, tucked away in a dusty box labelled JUNGKOOK along with a hundred other memories you weren’t sure you were ready to face yet.

“Can I use one then?”  

That certainly isn’t what you’d expected.

“What?”  It catches off your teeth, shattering over your tongue.  You wonder how you look - if the surprise is glaring beneath your skin like neon light.

Yoongi grins, low and slow and full of gums.  He must mistake your emotion for something else - excitement, maybe? - because he’s joining you in front of the computer, the imprint of his body still worn into the soft leather cushions he’s just vacated.  

The same instant he drops into the seat beside you, he takes over the mouse, flicking through file folders with purpose.  “I’m working on a new mixtape.  I thought one of your songs might work well on it so I took the liberty of recording some vocals and mixing it to see.”  

In any other situation, you’d be preening from the praise.  Now, it only settles discomfort in your stomach.

“I don’t know,”  you repeat, finally, after what seems like forever.  He’s already pulled up the audio file and the beginning notes fill the enclosed space, sinking into your ears.  It sounds amazing, of course.  Everything he touches turns to gold.  His voice is distinct, the delivery of lyrics so masterful you still don’t really know how he does it.

You listen in silence, admiring the way he’s managed to lay your original refrain with his effortless rap.  It thrums in a low bass - utterly brilliant - and then your voice starts.

It hits you like a ton of bricks then, two thousand pounds of weight dropping your heart into the pit of your stomach.  You don’t expect the reaction to be so polarizing.  You hardly realize you’re locked into place, gaze trained on some freckle in the wood grain of the desk, until you’re physically pulled from it.

A hand settles on your shoulder, hesitant yet unyielding.  It frames the bone and squeezes once, twice.  Yoongi’s voice follows, softer than you anticipate.  “Are you okay?”

The question repeats on a feedback loop.  It turns over and over and over until there’s nothing left but a distortion of your own voice in your head.  Were you okay?  You’d thought so.  Now, you weren’t so sure.  Hearing the familiar melody is like reliving those eight excruciating months all over again.

“It sounds great,”  you answer earnestly, in a voice that wobbles with emotion - a trapeze artist barely hanging on. You’re not lying;  you wish your voice wasn’t so feeble. 

“You’d get full credit, obviously.”  Yoongi’s trying to soothe the ache he can’t quite understand.  Not that he hasn’t tried.  After all, he’d helped you bring all of this to life.  He’d already done more than enough.

“Oh, thanks.”  It’s a little watery and a little weak but you’re laughing and that stretches an almost triumphant grin across the producer’s face.  It splits the casual indifference he normally wears, throwing the roundness of his cheeks into stark relief. 

You can’t help but smile yourself, however small.

Still, it’s enough for him.  You’re past the one-two sucker punch and he’s nearly all business again, studying the screen now that he knows you aren’t about to start bawling.  You have to hand it to him - he’s a professional through and through.

“Did you mind if I took a look at your notes?  I’m thinking we might want to do some ad libbing but I wasn’t sure if you’d considered that.”  

You don’t think twice about it, handing your worn notebook over.  The edges are tattered and it’s nearing the end, only half a dozen blank pages remaining.  All the rest are filled with nonsense:  half-formed lyrics, melodies stuck in your head, and—

“Are these about Jungkook?”

The question quite literally knocks the breath from your lungs.  It takes you what feels like ages to regain control of your own anatomy, your jaw falling and rising in tandem with the drawn out beat of your heart.  It feels strange - like you’re moving in slow motion.

Laid out before you - before him - are pages you’d poured your heart into over half a year ago.  You recognize them because of the dogeared edges and the almost concerning pen strokes decorating the margins.  Half the time you’d been writing about nothing at all, just putting your jumbled thoughts onto paper.  The lyrics had only come after that, once you’d word vomited as much as you could. 

You know what he’s reading now - not the verses you’d brought to life, but the heartbreak.  

“No?”  You’re not a great liar.  It’s never been an issue until now.

He doesn’t do the disservice of belittling you or questioning you on it further.  Instead, Yoongi remains decidedly silent;  the quiet isn’t quite like any other.  It’s careful and considerate, formed by unspoken questions and curiosity he holds close.  Almost as if he’s giving you time, he flips through the pages with the strangest expression on his face.

Even when he’s done, he says nothing - meeting your horrified stare with something close to compassion. (Or pity, but that feels a whole lot worse.)

He waits for you to speak first.  You don’t. 

Finally, because it’s almost suffocating now, he hands your notebook back to you.  Two hands - deeply respectful.  You accept in the same fashion and try to ignore the tremor that runs the length of your fingers, slotting the journal back into your bag.

“Does he know?”  There’s no judgment, no expectation.  

You have to hand it to him - he’s handling this spectacularly well.  Far better than you would be if you’d found out one of your best friend’s girlfriends had history with another of your best friends. 

“Sort of.”  

It’s the first reaction he gives that feels like it isn’t restrained, carefully packaged and offered only after it’s been perfected.  “Sort of?”  It rolls incredulously off his tongue.  

“It’s a long story.”  You don’t mean how defensive you sound.  It’s just hard not to when the wound has been festering for so long and you’ve let it turn to rot, weeds sprouting around the Jungkook-shaped sadness you’ve tried to cover with a sheet.

“I have time.”  He doesn’t mean it in any way but comforting.  It still doesn’t feel right.  

You begin with fiddling hands and eyes that won’t quite meet his, bouncing around the room like you’ll find solace in the muted light or the KAWS figurines that line the side wall.  “We met in school - second year.  He asked if the seat beside me was empty.”  You’re proud of the way your voice doesn’t break - how it steels itself through the acid that boils in your veins.

“We… were friends.”  The word has never quite matched what you’ve felt for him, even now.  But then?  It didn’t hold a candle to the torch you’d carried.  “He honestly became my best friend, or something like that.”  You try not to get too lost in the memory, holding tight to the present with white-knuckled fists.  “We did everything together.  We visited our families.  We went to Disneyland.”

Surprise fits itself into the sea of his stare, recognition flickering like a lighthouse.  You wonder how much he knows - if the nameless girl in Jungkook’s stories finally has a face.

“We were inseparable.”  The smile you offer is mostly playful, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.  “I guess, except for when he was with you guys.  But at some point, the friendship changed.  For me, at least.”  You fiddle with the long end of your belt, scraping indigo nails over the glossy fabric.  “I never acted on it, though.  I knew I couldn’t.  I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”  

“Then how…”  It trails off but the question lingers, hanging in the spaces between you.

“You know how hard he works.”  Yoongi nods - of course he does.  “Our last semester was… a lot.  I don’t think I’d ever seen him so stressed out.  We kind of let loose once we submitted our final projects.”

The little puzzle pieces you’re offering are slowly taking shape.  A part of you - the part that hates picking at the poorly healed wound - wishes you could take it all back.  You’re so close to the climax of the story and yet, you know it’ll be lacklustre.  It’ll fall miles short of the cinematic masterpiece you’re sure Yoongi’s expecting. 

There will be no grandiose declarations of affection and no heartbreaking rejections.  

“I made the mistake of asking him to spend the night.”  Heat eats up every surface of your skin, starting at the apples and ascending up over your temples.  “And then…  I left in the morning.”

Seated not two feet from you, Yoongi’s quiet breath is far louder than he means.  It puffs out of his cheeks in surprise.  “What do you mean you left?”

Whether the warmth is embarrassment or shame now, you’re not quite sure.  It all feels the same, red hot and humiliating.  “I left a note on my pillow.”  You won’t meet his stare even as you can feel it digging into your skin. 

“What did the note say?”  By the way he speaks, you think he has an idea.

“Sorry.”  

“Sorry for what?”

“No, the note.  It said sorry.”

If looks could kill, you’d likely be six feet under.  You’ve never seen so much exasperation - not even on your professor’s face when you’d beg for an extension literally seconds before a project was due.  “And what else?”  

“Nothing?”  You say it like a question despite the fact you know the answer.

He’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  You’re practically gnawing a hole through your cheek.

“Then what happened?”

“We didn’t talk.”  

“At all?”  Watching him grow incrementally more frustrated is like observing an overworked stay-at-home mom losing her cool at the supermarket.  It feels bad, discouraging, but you can’t look away.  Not even when he stares at you like you’re the dumbest person he’s ever met.

“I mean…” 

His expression begs you to spit it out.

“He tried once or twice, a few weeks later.  But I still felt so bad so I didn’t say anything back.  And then he stopped trying.”  You know you’d let the silence go on too long, allowing the awkward tension to mutate into something worse.  You’re not stupid.

The longest sigh greets your ears.  “You guys slept together and then you ghosted him.”

When he puts it like that, it sounds infinitely worse.  You frown deeply, shaking your head.  It wasn’t like that.  It was different - necessary. 

“I didn’t ghost him!”

“You left a sticky note!”

“Because I didn’t want him to regret it!  I didn’t want him to feel weird.”

“You honestly thought leaving your so-called best friend a note was better than talking to them?”  The way he utters the title makes you squirm in your seat.  You shouldn’t be surprised, though.  If you’ve learned anything over the last ten months, it’s that Min Yoongi does not mince words.  Not when it’s important.

“I was scared.”  It’s not an excuse;  it sounds like one. 

“Things are scary.  You get over it.”  He has a point.

“It doesn’t matter now.”   Unfortunately, so do you.

“I guess not.”

FLASHBACK Friday, June 21, 2019.  12 PM. 

When he wakes up, it’s like the end of the world - except not with a whimper, but with a bang.

The evil monkey that comes out of hiding after he’s had too much to drink is loud and unbothered, clanging its stupid gold cymbals hard enough to rattle his teeth in his skull.  The sound bounces around in his ears, digging past his usual post-drinking haze to directly assault his senses.

Rolling over doesn’t help.  In fact, it somehow makes it worse, the sudden motion bringing about a tidal wave of nausea.

The feeling rises and crests, threatening to swallow him whole when he rolls onto his front and yanks his legs up beneath him.  Face pressed into the warm topside of the pillow, he curls his arms around the underside and takes three deep breaths, trying his best to alleviate the discomfort in his chest. 

It works albeit poorly, like the second wave is coming, creeping up just beyond the horizon.

“Fuck.”  It’s grumbled into the soft cloth he’s presently trying to suffocate himself with.  Jungkook whines another sound - not as loud as the clattering in his head or even very clear - and presses deeper into the pillow, inhaling deeply.

God, he feels awful.  You were right - he definitely shouldn’t have had so much to drink. 

You.  

The same you who had tried to go shot for shot with him over dinner, only to tap out when he wrenched another glossy green bottle open.  The same you who had held his hand on the way back to your side of campus and laughed when he’d crowded you in the elevator, pressing sloppy kisses all over your neck and shoulders.  The same you who had moaned his name so prettily he can feel it even now, stirring something in the pit of his stomach that feels a helluva lot better than the liquor-induced ache.

The you that should be at his side - and yet isn’t.

He blinks owlishly against the straining morning light, how it fades in through your half-drawn blinds and spills over your side of the empty bed.  A hand reaches - slow, because he’s still not in full control of his motor functions - and slips over the cotton.  

It’s cold.  

Another blink, another pat of his hand.  

He’s definitely in your dorm.  There are photos strung up across the walls - taken by you or of you - and your familiar leather jacket is hung over the back of your desk chair.  Your too-many coffee cups sit beside your keyboard but your familiar canvas backpack is nowhere to be seen.

“Jiyeon-ah?”  It’s more gravel and sleep than anything remotely coherent.  He tries again.

Silence settles in the enclosed space and he wishes it’d do the same in his head.  Where were you?

The flat of his palm roves across your sheets, fingers seeking out the cold hard surface of his phone.  Maybe he’d left it in his pants?  That seems probable but they’re also not on his person, likely left in a pile at the foot of the bed - along with his underwear and socks - and well, he’s terribly lazy.

Lazy and still way too hungover.  

So Jungkook lays there and waits, comfortable in the bed he’s been in more than once, more than twice, more times than he can count on both hands.  He tosses and he turns, not quite patient but also not ready to face the day.  He figures you’ll be back soon.

Truthfully, he doesn’t mind.  Your dorm’s like a second home to him, somewhere he’s crashed a few too many times after you’d both trudged back in the dead of night after losing track of time across town.  He knows the sweet spot on your shower - where he needs to get it right before the water turns from mild to scalding - and the fact that you hide your favourite coffee in a crate under your bed.  It’s nearly as much his as it is yours, though he’s sure you’d disagree.

Either way, he could very, very easily fall back asleep.  He almost does.

The nausea settles and while moving too fast stirs it uncomfortably, he’s doing a lot better than he normally does.  It’s just this-side of relaxing, with time that doesn’t pass in screeches and lulls, rather simply sliding by in the transition of red numbers on your bedside clock.

It’s only when he realizes that it’s been nearly two hours that he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should get up. 

With an exaggerated grunt, he pushes himself to his elbows, entire body groaning with the effort.  While he might’ve felt fine mentally, his poor aching limbs were doing decidedly less well.  It’s almost like he’d been hit by a fourteen-wheeler loaded with booze. 

He sways with the force of it, nearly faceplanting back down on your pillows when he sees it.

A little neon yellow square with your messy, rounded Hangul scrawled in black Sharpie.  Three characters, one word, one broken heart.  

Mianhae.

It comes when you least expect it, straight out of the blue.  Your eyes are trained on the same colour that spills across the sky, the hazy clouds drifting in and out of focus;  the sun is playing hide and seek, splashing rays of warmth whenever you pass between tall grey buildings.

“I love you.”  Three words.  That’s all.

They roll off Taehyung’s tongue as easily as a breath from his lungs, filling the spacious interior of his German-built sports car.  There’s nowhere for the proclamation to go, caught between four walls and two bodies and your wide-eyed stare.  Not that he can even turn to admire the way your eyebrows have shot into your hairline, how your mouth gapes open like a fish out of water.  He’d still probably call you cute.  You know him.

“What?”  You’ve found yourself repeating this same word a lot lately.  With Jungkook, with Yoongi, and now, with your boyfriend, who seems terribly smug and not at all bothered.

He’s staring straight ahead, focused on the road in a way that you know isn’t wholly natural.  You’ve spent enough time in this car with him, with his hand gripping yours, to know that driving is second nature and he does it like he does everything else - effortlessly.

“I love you.”  It comes without missing a beat.  The edge of his mouth curls, revealing his perfectly straight white teeth, and you can’t miss the mischief.  You’d feel wary if you didn’t recognize it so well, how it lights up his insides and spills out brighter than the sun above your heads.

You ask because it’s funny and not because you care.  “Are you pranking me, Kim Taehyung?”

He levels you with a look then, one just from his periphery.  You can hardly make it out amongst the dark of his lashes, the velvet that brushes over his eyes because it’s just a little too long now.  The hand on your knee squeezes experimentally, the cold metal of his rings digging into the soft of your thigh.

“Is my love a joke to you?”

“Maybe.”  It’s a challenge - a playful, proverbial pat on the cheek.

The sound he makes is a mix between a growl and a laugh and 100% adorable, sweeping affection across your face in stretches, apples of your cheeks pulling wide.  “You’re lucky - I still love you anyway.”

Every time he says it, it’s a little less jarring.  

“You love me.”  You repeat it not for the sake of doing so but to taste it on your tongue, to feel its weight.  It’s much lighter than you’d anticipated, spun fairy floss and strawberry-scented bubbles rather than a newfound burden.  It fills you without expectation, fitting itself in the little cracks and crevices without demanding more.  Still, you want to give in return.  It feels right.  “I love you, too.”

Just like you love the smile that spreads like wildfire, boxy and distinctly him.  It’s so endearing you swear you feel your heart trip in your chest, lovesick and enamoured.  

He says it more to make you laugh than anything.  “I know.”  

You roll your eyes and meet him over the centre console, grateful that he’s found his familiar spot right down the street from his parents’ expansive home.  You appreciate the little moments kept just for the two of you;  you cherish them more than you can say, tucking them neatly into your pockets and behind your ears.

He presses forward for a kiss.  You smell like citrus and floral - Sicilian lemons and just-bloomed lilacs - a scent he thinks he’ll never forget.  When he rearranges himself in his seat, turning enough to drag you just that bit closer, he’s greeted with the sticky sweet musk - tonka beans and neroli - hidden beneath the curtain of your dark hair.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve got dinner in ten minutes or you’re sitting in the brightly lit street like two nervous high school students after a first date.  

This time is for him and for you - a celebration of sorts.

So he kisses you again, though it’s not quite kissing.  It’s more like worshipping and he takes his time doing it, wordless devotion roving over every inch he can possibly reach.  He treats you like a god or a deity, treasuring you like you might grant him his heart’s greatest wish or that maybe you already have.  It’s nice to imagine that.

“I love your bedhead.”  Which is where he starts, right at your temple.  They’re the softest presses - barely there trails of his dry, slightly chapped lips.  He inhales that familiar lemony scent as he deposits sweetness in its wake - over your eyelids and down.  

The line of his nose meets the contour of your cheekbone and he’s littering tender kisses along the rounded edge, all the way up to your ear.  There’s a beat of hesitation - a will he, won’t he - before he drops his head further, nosing past the sensitive spot where neck and shoulder meet to brush over the column of your throat.  It’s almost innocent until enamel catches, not nearly hard enough to blossom any colour but enough to draw forth the quietest sigh.

“And I love the way you sound.”  The lecherous grin he offers is far too handsome.  It doesn’t pull disgust and reproach as it should, especially not paired with the dainty kiss to your wrist.  He lingers there, over blue veins that jump beneath his touch, and only moves onto the back of your hand once you huff an almost imperceptible sigh of impatience.

You receive five more kisses - one to each of your fingertips.

“I just love you.”  

author note.  three more chapters to go.  ty for reading, as always!  xo

[dream-wreck]

Count On Me

If you want the RosaWatts fics, you gotta write the RosaWatts fics.

AO3

Title: Count on Me Rating: G Word Count: 1,425 Description: Eva tries to be there for Neil in the ways she can, but there's only so much you can do for a friend who refuses your help.

.....

To calm herself down, Eva would count anything. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as she started from zero and worked her way up. It was usually as simple as that. She counted the scrapes and smudges on the off-white linoleum while Neil puked on the other side of the third floor bathroom door.

There were several dark streaks left by rubber shoe soles. Fifty-two. There were fifty-two smudges on the surrounding eight tiles alone. A maintenance cart had made a mark that stretched nearly the entire length of the hall. Eva wondered: should the long streak count for more than one? Neil spat into the toilet three times.

The men’s restroom went awfully quiet for twenty-eight seconds. Leaning against the door, Eva listened for any reason not to kick it down. Faintly, she heard Neil exhaling, long and slow, catching his breath. He sniffed once.

“Let me know what I can do,” she called in.

“Got all I need right here,” Neil answered. “Water, breath mints, a little window. I could last for days.”

Eva rubbed tiny circles into her temple. “Just let me know.”

“You know,” Neil huffed, “there’s something to be said of this. Hanging around while I literally spill my guts --”

The rest was lost to violent retching. There was a red mark near the wall and a blue streak of permanent marker. Lord knows how that got there. Neil coughed thirteen times.

“What do you think it was?” Eva asked.

“Uh…” The toilet flushed.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Just something I ate, probably.”

That wasn’t right. Neil had a garbage disposal for a stomach. Eva knew, though, that she wouldn’t get anywhere contradicting him outright.

She seated herself outside of the men’s bathroom to rest her legs, listening to the water run for one minute. She’d been on her feet all day, running reports back and forth. It had been a day of workplace housekeeping with little real excitement until Neil burst from his office, peckish and panicked, and rushed down the hall like the devil was close behind. It wasn’t the excitement Eva had hoped for.

“How about you go home early today?” she suggested.

The water shut off. “Nah. Day’s almost over.” Neil pulled four paper towels from the dispenser.

“Exactly,” Eva said. “You’ll only miss a few hours that you can make up tomorrow. No harm done.”

“Nah,” Neil said.

“You’ve got plenty of sick leave saved up.”

Something rattled on the other side of the door. Neil gently screwed the pill bottle lid back on. The sink ran again.

“Tylenol probably isn’t the best thing to pop, Neil,” Eva called. “You’ll want to try and eat something with those or you’ll just keep feeling sick.”

She assumed that’s what it was. Neil kept his office drawer stashed with an unholy arsenal of over-the-counter pain relievers for the headaches that usually followed an all-nighter. Honestly, it was a miracle his stomach was still intact at all. He functioned exclusively off a diet of black coffee and little white pills. He kept his mini-fridge stuffed to the brim with energy drinks and ice packs. The only reason Eva didn’t worry more than she probably should have was because she knew Neil, and had for a long time. That’s just who he was: a terrifyingly stable imbalance of Redbull and Advil. She was convinced that it was the only reason (beside her help, of course) that he’d gotten through college.

Neil didn’t respond. A thick silence filled the space. Beneath the weight of her own overbearance, Eva returned her attention to the floor.

The women’s bathroom door was four tiles away from the men’s. The nearest fluorescent tube light (the horrid things...) flickered in a series of five irregular beats before steadying out, but it always flickered in fives. There were two exit signs in this hallway. 

She’d never noticed the dimensions of the hallway before: eight tiles wide. It wasn’t important. It didn’t spark any epiphany. But now that she knew that the third floor hallway was eight tiles wide, Eva would never forget it. Now, every morning when she stepped off the elevator and walked down to her office, she’d notice the eight tile width and think about Neil puking his guts out, this terrible waiting game, and how the color had completely gone from his face when he finally emerged.

Rosa and Neil had known each other for twenty-five years. They’d met in the first grade. She was seven; he was six. They’d had a total of eleven classes together through high school. Neil was in and out of detention for minor disruptions while Eva only ever got detention once. That was in the tenth grade. Carson Adams had hit Neil three times. Eva hit Carson once. It was enough. 

In college, the longest Neil had gone without sleep was fifty-six hours to study for his entrance exams. He snuck in a three hour nap before his first test. He never once got physically ill.

Eva rose to her feet while Neil took a moment to clean his glasses on the end of his lab coat.

“Please hold all disapproving and-or disconcerted expressions until I have regained the gift of sight,” Neil said. He slipped the frames back onto his face, flashing a smile and wiggling his fingers with a magician’s flair. “Ta da!”

Looking up at him, Eva crossed her arms. “Truly remarkable. Now go home.”

Neil shrugged. “A new stack of maintenance reports just came in. I’m stuck here, same as everyone else.”

“Do them tomorrow,” Eva pressed. “You look terrible.”

Neil pressed a hand to his heart, shaking the pills in his pocket. “Thank you, I’m touched. I’ll write that one in my diary tonight.”

Turning on a heel, he gave a halfhearted wink and started for his office. Eva followed close at his shoulder. She didn’t like that he hadn’t really, truly looked her in the eyes yet today. 

“Cut that out. Seriously. Take the extra hours to see your doctor.”

Without missing a beat, Neil stopped so suddenly, they collided shoulders. “Dr. Rosalene, I’m flattered, but that would be completely unprofessional -- “

Scoffing, Eva marched on. If he wasn’t going to take this seriously, fine. She wouldn’t press any further.

“I’m kidding! Come on, Eva. Eva!” Neil ran after her at first, his rubbers heels striking the linoleum, but he settled for matching her walking pace. 

“You don’t get sick, Neil,” Eva said, looking straight ahead.

Neil steadied his breathing. “Just something I ate. You know the cafeteria salads can be utterly rancid.”

They stopped between their two office doors. Eva’s hung wide open; Neil’s was locked. Even in the scramble, he had time to pull his door shut.

“Just take it easy,” Eva said. “Eat something with...whatever it is you’re taking.”

“Tylenol,” Neil affirmed.

“Drink lots of water,” Eva said. 

Neil pulled an office key from his pants pocket. “Right.”

“Go to bed early.”

“Mhm.” Neil unlocked the door.

“Don’t mix pills and Monster. Actually, just skip the Monster today.”

“I will make no such promises,” Neil smirked. He gave a little wave and a tight-lipped grin before disappearing behind yet another door.

He left Eva in the hallway. She’d always been certain that if Neil needed to talk to her about anything, he would in his own way, because he always had, though they’d usually waste ample time beating bushes.

But those conversations always came about only after a little prodding on Eva’s part. And given the reminder that there was someone in his life who wanted to listen and wanted to help in any way they could, his guarded soul would, in its own time, open naturally to the daunting prospect of vulnerability. Eva just wished he’d get on with it already.

She took a slow breath. In his own time, always. Knowing Neil for so long had certainly made her far more patient than (she believed) she would have been otherwise. It was a good thing. A very good thing. She’d learned to take matters a little slower than she often wanted. Even so, she had an inexplicable sense of being on the clock, fighting a quiet countdown, which she attributed up to a desperate desire to see her friend well again.

She left that for another time. Dr. Eva Rosalene stepped into her office and faced a more immediate task -- the mountain of paperwork awaiting her return -- failing to overhear the faint jingle of pills tumbling from their bottle into Dr. Neil Watts’ shaking hand.

[gumnut-logic]

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 1.1

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day One – A Tale of a Fateful Trip – Part 1 (Prologue)

Author: Gumnut

8 Dec 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 3490

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph

This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic and it is a big one ::headdesk:: I hope you enjoy it. I know I have thoroughly enjoyed researching a gorgeous corner of this planet.

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

And as always, thank you all for creating such a fantastic fandom. Thundernerds rock! I hope you all have a wonderful festive season. Thank you all so much for everything.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

 Day One: A Tale of a Fateful Trip

Virgil was miserable.

Pain was minimal as long as he didn’t move too much. He didn’t really even need any of the painkillers that he was given to take with him at the hospital. It was just that he knew his brothers were tired, and despite the attractions of the beautiful city of Auckland, all they really wanted to do was go home.

His brothers could quite easily do just that. The ‘birds were at the local GDF base, it would be a matter of minutes and they would be home. But Virgil wasn’t allowed off the ground, they wouldn’t risk him and they wouldn’t leave him behind, no matter how many times he told them to do just that.

The glare Scott raked him with the last time he suggested it had been scathing.

Didn’t make him feel any better.

Grandma, of course, sensed his sadness and was known to slip up behind the couch he was chained to and wrap her arms around him. She kissed his hair and mumbled reassuring words in his ear.

He was ever so grateful, but he was still miserable.

Balled up cartridge paper lay about his feet. His pencil just wouldn’t create anything of value. Creating gave him a boost, and he desperately wanted to feel something positive, so he persisted, but the pile of balled up paper at his feet just got bigger and in the end he threw the pad and pencil aside, wincing when the pencil hit the table and likely destroyed the lead inside.

With a groan he levered his feet onto the couch and curled up into a flinching ball of misery.

His brain conveniently listed off all the positives about his life, everything he should be thankful for and all the reasons he shouldn’t be feeling sorry for himself. That just made him angry and annoyed that he was so pathetic.

God, he hated this.

He wasn’t really that ill. Just had some small difficulty moving and couldn’t fly to go home.

His family was suffering and it was all his damn fault.

“Hey, Virg?” The voice was soft, but it was definitely Scott testing to see if he was awake.

“What?” So he was grumpy, big deal.

“You’re awake.”

Well, yeah. He didn’t answer that.

Scott edged into his line of sight. Maybe his brother sensed his foul mood.

Of course, that thought just made him feel worse. The word ‘burden’ came to mind.

He closed his eyes, took a second, and then forced himself once again upright. Familiar hands reached into help, gently holding his shoulders until he was steady. “I’m fine.”

Scott shifted the detritus over on the coffee table and sat down in front of Virgil, his long frame folding neatly and a lot smoother than Virgil had any hope of achieving at the moment. “How would you like to go home?”

Virgil looked up at him. “How? I can’t fly.”

“Flight is only one way to get to Tracy Island.” He smiled. “We have a very versatile aquanaut on our team.”

Virgil stared at him. “Thunderbird Four? It’s just as pressurised as Two. Carries the same risks.”

The smile softened. “No, Virgil, Gordon can pilot more than a submarine. He’s bought us a boat.”

“A boat?”

“Actually, technically it is a yacht and a luxury one at that.” Gordon’s grin was broad and eager as he entered the room. “All aboard for Tracy Island, bro. She’s got all the perks and enough under the hood to get us there in time for Christmas.”

Virgil stared at him. Then stared at Scott. “Really?”

Scott’s smile was a sight. “I really don’t know why we didn’t think of it earlier.”

“Because all you pilot types live in the clouds.” Gordon strode up to his eldest brother and dug him one in the ribs before turning to Virgil. “So, what do you say, Virg? Up for a little cruise? Should take us about three days. Kayo and Grandma have gone Christmas shopping and will likely haul half of New Zealand’s food supply back in Two. Scott’s already stashed One and Tracy Two can stay until we need to pick her up.” Gordon had obviously worked out all the details. His brother was literally bouncing where he stood. But then it wasn’t often the aquanaut got to ferry his family around.

Virgil stared at his brothers. “Us three?”

Scott’s smile became a grin. “No, us five. All of us.”

“Five bachelors cruising on the open sea.” Gordon waved his hand across the room as if peering into a far horizon.

Virgil arched an eyebrow at him. All of them. All five brothers. Together. On a boat. For three days. His gaze turned to Scott. “You sure you want to do this?”

There was something in his brother’s blue eyes. “I’m sure.”

Virgil straightened where he sat. Surprisingly, he felt lighter, more positive. Could be the energy radiating off Gordon. His brother was always a bucket of sunshine in the rain. “Okay. When do we leave?”

“Yes.” Gordon actually fist pumped the air. Virgil couldn’t help but grin. “Now, big bro, pack your bags, we are going now.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Now?” That explained why he had been alone all morning.

But Scott had already started moving, Virgil’s meagre pile of supplies being shoved into the overnight bag that had sufficed for his hospital stay. “Well, we want to be home for Christmas, so we have to get going.”

Virgil moved to stand up.

Gordon stepped in front of him. “Hey, no, you stay there. This is a full service operation, Virg. We’ve got this.”

Another arched eyebrow was an answer to that, but Gordon was as good as his word and before Virgil could think twice, he was in a car, luggage in the trunk and on his way to the docks.

-o-o-o-

Scott was tired. It had been a long...well, everything. International Rescue never stopped, Tracy Industries never stopped and apparently, his brothers never stopped.

Virgil had scared him.

Okay, so nowadays appendicitis was a mild inconvenience, but in the past it was a killer and a painful and sudden one at that. Perhaps it was because it was something innocuous, something not related to a rescue and so out of the blue that it knocked Scott around so badly. But what worried him more was that his brother had ignored the warning signs of serious illness in favour of International Rescue. It wasn’t the first time and he wasn’t the only one of the brothers to do such a thing. Hell, Scott himself had done it. Lives had been saved despite injury and illness many times. But perhaps this was a louder warning. Perhaps they should be taking better care of themselves.

Grandma’s scathing words had driven it home. The Tracys were taking this Christmas off. They were due the time, they were tired, Virgil was ill. Any of those three on their own were cause for concern. All three together forced their matriarch to lay down the law.

Scott knew his place.

And she was right.

But their dilemma was a frustrating one. None of his brothers, particularly John, could fully relax away from home. There were celebrity issues to begin with, and this forced idleness rankled badly.

So, when Gordon suggested they go home via sea, Scott jumped on the idea wondering why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Three days on the ocean. They would still be idle, but they would be away from restrictions, out beneath the blue sky and they could be home for Christmas.

And how long had it been since all five of them had been together like that? Had it happened since they were children on one of Dad’s road trips?

Scott swallowed as the car with himself, Virgil and Gordon made its way down to the docks. The sight of the ocean lifted his spirits more than he would ever admit to his aquanaut brother.

The vehicle slipped through a security checkpoint and into a private area.

“Isn’t she a beauty?” Gordon was bouncing again, this time in his seat. The aquanaut was going to have the time of his life over this little trip. Scott couldn’t help but smile at his happiness.

And yes, the boat was a gorgeous craft, even to a flyboy like himself. She had clean lines and looked fast sitting still. White with a streak of yellow down her length...no doubt, very recently applied along with the name on her bow, A Little Lightning.

She was large, but not huge. Just big enough for five tired brothers to live in comfort and fly fast over the waves.

Gordon was spouting off her specs to a politely interested Virgil. Scott tilted his head to one side...no, that spark in his engineer brother’s eyes spoke of genuine curiosity. Scott smirked just a little. Might need to watch Virg for the first couple of days to keep him out of the engine. He could pull it apart and put it back together once they were home and he was better.

Scott lent his brother a hand to get out of the car. He was still walking slowly, careful of his incisions, but he was a touch straighter than a couple days ago and he was off medication - though that was no surprise. Getting him to take any medication at any time was a challenge.

“She’s beautiful, Gordon. How did you find her so fast?”

Their brother grinned. “I have friends, Virg. You know, those people you can share a drink with from time to time.”

Virgil’s flat eyed glare was more fond than exasperated. “How much money did you throw at these friends?”

A shrug was all the answer he gave. “It’s worth it.”

“Give me a number and I’ll throw it your way.” Virgil was sincerity itself.

“Forget it, bro. Not required.” The hand waved in Virgil’s direction was entirely dismissive. “Just have a look, Virg. This girl has speed!” And the discussion devolved into specs again as the two of them walked towards the pier.

Hmm, apparently, Scott was cabin boy today.

To be honest, he didn’t care.

Loading himself with luggage, he followed their slow progress onto the dock.

-o-o-o-

John wasn’t much of a sailor, but when Gordon suggested the trip, he jumped on it.

Out in the middle of the ocean he could see the stars unhindered, it would be quiet except for the wind, water and their boat and, to be honest, it would be good to just be with his brothers uninterrupted.

And besides, on Earth, the ocean was the closest he could get to the weightless freedom of space.

So the astronaut was happy to help prep the boat. Being a resident of Tracy Island required at least some marine knowledge for safety’s sake and it felt good to exercise it for a change.

Alan was a little less enthusiastic until John mentioned a new video game recently released in beta. He had meant to mention it to his littlest brother some weeks ago, but life got in the way. Years ago, the two of them used to tackle each other in various games and they hadn’t done so in ages. John had contributed to this game at the request of a couple of associates from college. It was a high level space simulator matched with an adventure storyline. It should have a good enough mix of reality and fantasy to keep the hi-octane teenager amused in those moments of too much quiet.

Gordon had already allocated some time to some extra-curricular activities around the Kermadec Island group south of Tracy Island, so there would be plenty of the softer sciences to go around somewhere in their second day of the voyage.

John smiled at Gordon’s reaction to the term ‘softer sciences’. He hadn’t known his younger brother actually knew the definition of the word he used. Then again usage didn’t always prove understanding. A few more words in Swedish at a later date should clarify that situation.

As he placed the last of their food supplies into refrigeration, he heard the first distant rumble of a familiar voice, followed by the excited chatter of his aquanaut brother.

His smile widened and he made his way out onto the deck. Virgil had an arm tight against his belly, but his expression was excited as Gordon rabbited on about the engine specifications of his new boat.

Well, John, Alan and Scott had contributed to the cost of the boat, but it really was Gordon’s regardless. None of them really cared about it other than it getting them and their brothers home safely. Gordon was the one who loved a good ocean-going vessel and this was definitely a brilliant contender.

John rolled his eyes at Virgil as he offered him a hand getting onboard and his brother grinned at him. A few solid steps and the engineer got his feet securely on the boat. His brown eyes caught John’s and he suddenly found himself caught in one of his bear hugs. Perhaps not as rigorous as usual, but just as warm.

John couldn’t help, but hug back.

“Hey, where’s mine? This was my idea, after all.”

Virgil laughed and wrapped his arms around Gordon. “Thanks, fishy.” It was brief, but all three men were grinning as the two brothers separated.

“Well, that’s sweet and all, but some of us have to work for a living.” John smirked as Scott arrived at the water’s edge draped in luggage. A quick leap onto the dock and he helped him shed bags and the odd suitcase and with Gordon’s help, lug them onto the yacht.

Virgil was hugging Alan, who had emerged from the cabin.

John nudged Scott. Under his breath, “He okay?”

“Seems happy enough about the boat.” A sigh. “Looked miserable enough to sink it before I told him.”

“Let’s hope it cheers him up.”

“Let’s hope it cheers us all up. It’s Christmas, for crying out loud.” Scott grabbed the bag with Virgil’s art equipment, which had been added to without the artist’s knowledge and clambered onto the boat and headed in the direction of the cabin assigned to Virgil.

Gordon had dragged Virgil up to what he called ‘The Bridge’, what Scott called ‘The Cockpit’ and what was blatantly and obviously the control centre of the yacht - it would be flyboys versus fish for the entire voyage, no doubt. Said fish could be heard still babbling excitedly to his engineer brother.

John made a note to rescue the invalid if necessary.

Between John and Scott, they unloaded the last pieces of luggage and sent the driver on his way with a generous tip. John ran the supplies list through his head. Gordon had managed all the permits and regulations an international voyage by sea required and there were quite a few. There was less red tape in space.

Of course, when your daughter is an AI, the red tape moves just that little faster. And yes, he did smile to himself. He couldn’t help it.

-o-o-o-

A Little Lightning left dock just after the tide turned midafternoon. It would have been better to leave early in the morning, but time was what it was and they set out when they could. It had been decided that between the autopilot and four out of five brothers and no, Virgil, you are not piloting this ship, so forget it, they could make up the time overnight.

“It’s a boat, Scott.”

“Semantics, Gordon.”

“Reality, Scott.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Are we going to hear this discussion the entire way?” He had stashed himself in a comfortable seat at the back of the ‘bridge’. He had a great view of Waitemata Harbour as they cruised slowly past the CBD of Auckland itself. The weather was fantastic and the sea calm as glass. The forecast said the same for the next three days and the only stormy hints were in his brothers’ eyes.

“Regardless of the type of craft, Virgil, you aren’t able to drive a car at the moment, much less pilot a boat.” Emphasis was put on the word ‘boat’ as his eldest brother glared like a petulant child at his aquanaut brother.

“Fine. I’ll be chauffeured.”

Gordon snorted as he directed the yacht between past an incoming liner. “Now you know how it feels.”

“Know what feels?”

“Not being allowed to drive.”

Virgil glared at his brother, but couldn’t think of an adequate retort.

Alan snickered.

“Shut up, Alan.” Okay, so perhaps Gordon had a point. “She’s my ‘bird, Gordon.”

“It’s okay, Virg. We understand, don’t we, guys.” Gordon grinned back at him. John smiled. Alan rolled his eyes.

Scott shrugged. “I don’t have a problem. Virgil doesn’t hesitate to let me fly Thunderbird Two.”

“You’re hardly ever on Two.”

“So? Virgil doesn’t have a problem with me flying Two, do you Virg?”

Four pairs of eyes stared at him in challenge, but not all from the same perspective.

“Er...”

“You think Scott is a better pilot that the rest of us?” Alan was always the direct one.

Virgil opened his mouth, but his eldest brother beat him to it. “I am a better pilot than all of you.”

“What?!” It was an offended scoff from the two youngest.

“Though I will admit that you each have your specialities with your ‘birds. Virgil is much better with Two than I am, for example.”

“And you are totally pathetic in Four, let me tell you.” Gordon was staring out across the bow, but there was still a smirk on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“Who buried my girl in sea sludge recently?”

“That was unavoidable.”

Gordon spun on the spot. “What?! You’re still claiming you had no choice? I gave you recommendations on comms, you ignored them and look what happened, oh mighty pilot. You may be the greatest in the air, but you suck underwater, Scott, face it.”

“And I can run rings around you in Three, trust me on that.” Alan folded his arms and stuck his nose in the air.

“Hey!” Virgil shouted and cut off the discussion. “What the hell? You’re all damn good and fine pilots, no matter the craft. So, I’m a control freak with my girl. You’re all the same. When was the last time I piloted any of your craft? I’m fully trained and fully capable as any of you are, but she is my ‘bird and while I’m alive and kicking, I will fly her. That is no reflection on your capability, only on mine. And for god’s sake, get over it.”

Okay, so he got a little angry. It wasn’t his best attempt at diffusing an argument, ever, but the dumb ass looks directed at him were at least silent ones.

“Now stop fighting and let us enjoy this trip.” He blinked. “And Gordon, you might want to avoid that oncoming container ship.”

The aquanaut jumped and the yacht swerved as he shifted her quickly to the left to give way to the massive cargo carrier bearing down on them. The sharp dirge of the ship’s horn emphasised her captain’s ire at their deviation into his vessel’s path.

“Sorry!”

It was a vain apologetic gesture of his little brother’s part. It did put an effective end to their argument nonetheless.

There were many islands at the mouth of Auckland’s main harbour and it was extremely scenic, particularly the volcanoes.

Virgil was intimately familiar with volcanic structures and had visited several as part of IR, he understood their power and had witnessed it first hand, but the artist in him never failed to be caught by their symmetry and their mystery. They still caught his imagination and stunned him.

As they accelerated around the islands and out into the bay proper, the sea opened out into a beautifully flat expanse of watery blue. They were still surrounded on all sides by distant patches of green. Another little volcanic island reared up and they cruised past. A couple of dolphins danced along in the wake at their bow. John helped Virgil climb up the stairs to the railing at the front of the boat. He twinged several times, but ignored it despite the frown of Scott following up behind him.

It was worth it to stand up the front, the wind in his hair, a brother either side of him. The last of the islands passed by and the ocean opened up in front of them.

Dolphins continued to keep them company.

Both Scott and John kept a grip on an arm each, wary of him stressing himself in any way. Virgil turned his face into the wind and closed his eyes, letting the sensations fill his mind.

“Better?” It was a whisper from Scott, barely heard above the rush of air over his ears.

Virgil smiled.

“Better.”

-o-o-o-

End Day One, Part One.

Day One, Part Two

[avintagekiss24]

Blame It On The Meteors

Pairing: Okoye x Carol Danvers

Rating: General

Warnings: none

Summary: Okoye is supposed to be studying, not lying in the grass, watching a meteor shower with some chick named Carol.

Word Count: 1653

Link: AO3

Square Filled: N1 - Meet Cute @mcurarepairsbingo

A/N: I really love Carol Danvers and I really love Okoye, so here you go! 🌈 I also went the route of “Sebastian Stan and Bucky Barnes both exist in the MCU” with Chris Evans/Steve Rogers in this one.

“Are you coming with me or not?”

Okoye sighs, turning her wrist to illuminate her apple watch, “I don’t know, Wanda. It’s kinda cold out.” She answers, flipping the page of her economics book. 

Wanda leans against the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest. She stares at her roommate with wide eyes, her lips pursed as she sighs deeply. Okoye clicks her teeth as she scribbles notes into her notebook, completely ignoring the Sokovian redhead. She sips on her tea as she reads and stifles a laugh as Wanda sighs again loudly.

“Don’t be boring, Okoye.”

“I’m not, I’m studying and you should be too.” Okoye smiles sweetly, finally lifting her eyes to her friend.

Wanda rolls her eyes as she pushes away from the frame, grabbing her leather jacket, “I’m tired of studying. Finals are tomorrow anyway, if I don’t know it by now, I’m not going to.” She throws her hair over her shoulder and reaches across the table, slamming Okoye’s book closed, “Let’s go.”

“Wanda-”

“You can spare an hour.” Wanda starts, grabbing Okoye’s jacket from the hook and tossing it toward her, “Move your ass.”

Night has fallen over Boston. The sky is dark and full of twinkly stars as the two almost college graduates traipse across campus as a cool breeze whips around them. Wanda is all smiles as they walk up on another redhead, extending her arms out toward Natasha. 

Natasha hugs her tightly, kissing her cheek before winking at Okoye, “How did you manage to drag her out? Especially during finals season?” Natasha asks Wanda, while throwing her arm over her shoulders.

Okoye rolls her eyes playfully as Wanda scoffs, “I literally had to slam her book closed. She was trying to act like she’s not used to Boston weather after living here her whole life.”

“I get cold easily.” Okoye says in defense, moving forward to embrace Natasha.

“Well, I’m glad you came. There is supposed to be a wicked meteor shower in like a half hour.”

“It’ll be worth me failing my final tomorrow?” Okoye asks cheekily as Wanda slaps her shoulder.

“Totally.” Natasha winks before grabbing Wanda’s hand, “You want a coffee or something? I was just about to grab something from Starbucks.”

Okoye sighs a little, nodding her head, “Yeah, a White Chocolate Mocha is fine.” Okoye answers, “Thank you.”

Natasha shoots her a finger gun, “Back in a flash, babe.”

Okoye shoves her hands into the pockets of her stressed leather jacket and moves deeper into the grass, finding an open space and plopping down. Students mill about around her, all trying to find a spot for the show, while clambering on about their upcoming finals. Okoye pulls out her phone, losing herself as she peruses instagram until a voice next to her grabs her attention. 

“Hey, sorry. Is it okay if I sit here?”

Okoye glances up and then does a double take at the blonde woman standing next to her. Her hair is shoulder length with loose curls framing her face. She’s dressed casually, a Nine Inch Nails t shirt hugging her torso as her long legs are covered in a tight pair of jeans. Okoye nods and smiles softly, “Yeah, sure.”

The blonde smiles and sits down before laying back in to the grass, tucking her hands underneath her head. Okoye glances over at the stranger, not having ever noticed her around campus before. She stares up at the sky, a soft smile on her face as she blinks slowly, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. She pretty, this blonde stranger. Natural, simple- just what Okoye likes. The woman rolls her head toward her suddenly, her smile widening as Okoye takes a sharp breath and snaps her eyes back to her phone. 

“I’m Carol, by the way. Carol Danvers.”

Her voice is soft and smooth, but also kind of playful. Okoye shuts her eyes, shaking her head in embarrassment as a light laugh escapes her, “Sorry, I just- I didn’t mean to stare. I’m not a creep, I promise.”

Carol shrugs, the same wide toothless smile on her lips, “It’s okay. Truth be told, I’ve been staring at you since your friends walked off.” Okoye turns her head toward the blunt woman as her eyes widen and her mouth curves in to a shocked grin, “You’re gorgeous.”

“I-” Okoye laughs again, “Wow, thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

“I hope your name is as pretty as you are.” Carol presses. 

“Oh my god,” Okoye laughter heightens as she tosses her head back.

“What?” Carol asks, leaning up onto her elbows, scrunching up her face, “Was that cheesy?”

Okoye shrugs as she continues to giggle, “Kinda? Yeah.”

“Ugh,” Carol groans as she slams her eyes shut and lets her head fall back, “Sorry. Now I’m the creepy one.”

“No, no! It’s fine, it’s actually kinda nice. Most people are way too suave nowadays.”

Carol points at her and winks, “That is so true. I figure, when hitting on someone, just be as awkward as possible. It comes off as genuine.” She nods, turning her head to look out across the park, “You are beautiful though. That part I meant.”

Okoye smiles, then bites her bottom lip to try and hide it to no avail. She drops her head as she feels Carol’s eyes on her, looking her over, “Okoye.” She says after a moment.

Carol nods slowly as her face cracks with another large smile. She lays back down and returns her eyes to the sky, prompting Okoye to do the same. They lay in silence as another cool breeze whips through the campus. Carol turns her head back toward Okoye as she gazes up into the sky. The moonlight bathes the African woman in a soft light, accentuating her smooth skin. Her lashes are long and full as they curl around her large, soft, dark eyes. Her lips are plump and inviting as they part slightly and Carol has to stop herself from leaning over and kissing her right here, underneath the stars. 

A meteor flashes across the sky and Okoye smiles, lifting her arm to point toward the natural phenomenon, “Did you see that?” 

Carol shakes her head, “Nope.”

Okoye doesn’t turn toward her. She just smiles again as Carol rolls over onto her side to face her, propping her head up with her hand, “Okoye is a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” Okoye laughs, “You know, there’s a meteor shower literally happening in front of us right now.”

“I know, crazy right? So, are you here just for school or?”

Okoye laughs harder, finally rolling her head toward the straightforward woman, “No. I moved here from Wakanda with my parents when I was seven. Been here pretty much my whole life.”

“Wakanda? Wow. That place is all over the news. Do you remember much about it?”

Okoye takes a breath, “Oh yeah, we go back every summer.”

“Nice, nice,” Carol nods, “Are you going to take your boyfriend with you after you graduate?”

Okoye scoffs but smiles widely, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Girlfriend, then?”

“Don’t have one of those either.”

“Just what I wanted to hear. I mean, you are into girls, right? I don’t want to waste all my material on a straight.” Okoye covers her face with her hands as she dissolves into giggles again but Carol peels them away, “Don’t hide that face.”

“Right to the point, huh?”

“Of course,” Carol shrugs, “There is no other way to be, baby.”

“I don’t even know you, lady.” Okoye exclaims, completely unable to wipe the grin off of her face.

Carol gestures her hand between the two of them, “That’s what this is, us getting to know each other before I ask you for your number. Or, the very least, your instagram.”

Okoye has to give it to her, Carol Danvers is smooth, “I am bisexual, if you must know. So, yes, I’m into girls.”

“I’m bisexual too, you know. Just 99% of me leans toward chicks.”

Okoye shakes her head, “You are too much, Carol Danvers.”

“I’m serious!” Carol explains, “I would totally sleep with Brad Pitt, and Brad Pitt only.” Carol stops, squinting her eyes as she thinks, “Well, and maybe that guy who plays Captain America.”

“Oh, Chris Evans.” Okoye groans, closing her eyes at the thought of him, “I love him, he’s gorgeous. Great ass.”

“See?” Carol smiles, “Now we know that we’d both do Chris Evans. So, now you know me and I know you. About them digits, tho?”

“Hey, Okoye.” Wanda starts, jogging up to the pair of women, “Oh sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” She says, glancing over at Carol.

“It’s not a problem, what’s up?” Okoye asks.

“Change of plans. So, Nat wants to go to the movies to see that scary one that you’ve been trying to drag me to.”

Okoye rolls her eyes up at her friend, “So you’ll go for her and not for me? That’s cold.”

“Shut up. You wanna come or not?”

“And miss this beautiful meteor shower that you dragged me out for?”

Wand throws her hands to her hips, tilting her head, “We can watch it from the car, dick.”

Okoye sits up, turning her head back toward the mysterious Carol Danvers, “It was nice meeting you, Carol.”

“Just like that, we’re done? Really?” She smiles, watching at Okoye stands, “You’re not even a little impressed?”

 Okoye takes a few steps, walking backward as Wanda loops her arm within hers, “My insta is OkoyeFromWakanda, two y’s.”

Carol eyes crinkle as she smiles back, wiggling her fingers, “Bye beautiful. Talk to you soon.”

Okoye turns, dropping her head as Wanda glances back toward Carol. She leans into Okoye as they move toward the street, “Who the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know,” Okoye laughs, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight, “My new girlfriend, I think?”

tags: @jetaimeamore @mixedbutdivine @redpanthers @shay-iamiam @wildfirecracker @amberjoy38 @mannarn @bellaamor88 @stellarxfresh @metsforever @serena1276 @euh-say-what-now @golden-ariess @ishipwhateverthefuckiwantto @bitchacho25 @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @mangos4u @awesomecamillatthings @pumbibaby @flowersbound @rockme-fabulous @lady-olive-oil @lilbratbrat03 @tian-monique

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[tera-91]

Stars

Hi guys! this is a story I wrote for @eat-moar-veggis and their oc blog @ask-villegas-sides. I know I havn’t been on recently and I feel terrible :( Hopefully this is a much needed kickstart <3. 

Warnings: not much but some cursing, fire, embarrassing roommates

Word count: 2291 

            Lev stood in front of their closet. Various types of clothing, in a vast array of shades of green, filled every square inch of the decently sized space. “Choices, choices. So many amazing choices!” Lev said as they scanned over all the pants, shirts, skirts, dresses, vests, and cardigans. After a few moments they finally decided on a mint green pleated skirt and a sheer mint green chiffon top over an emerald green tank top. As they looked at their reflection in the full-length mirror mounted next to the closet something felt like it was missing. After a few moments they were still unable to figure it out, with a shrug of their shoulders they made their way to the rather large make-up desk.

               The stunning mahogany piece of furniture had multiple drawers, in which its contents were organized for the most part. Items that are considered to be feminine were stored on the left and the items considered to be masculine were stored on the right. Such items included make-up products for when Lev simply wanted to look pretty or even when they wanted to go all out like Reese on occasion. One of the fairly large drawers, which was sectioned off, contained a wide assortment of body sprays ranging from floral to citrus to wooded. Another drawer, located on the right, Lev rarely opened for themselves contained a few half-used jars of hair gel that Flint would, almost randomly, pop in to use. Those were some of Lev’s favorite mornings.

               This was one such morning. A knock on Lev’s door caught their attention. They knew that knock, it only took them a month to learn each of their three roommates unique knocks after they all moved into the house turned apartment building. Their heart immediately began to race. “Lev? Can I come in?” Flint’s, still rough with sleep, voice made its way through the wooden door.

               “Sure Flint.” Lev’s voice came out a couple octaves higher than normal.

               Lev watched, almost paralyzed with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, as the door knob began to turn. The door opened in slow motion, at least from Lev’s point of view, to reveal Flint. Lev could tell he hadn’t slept very well, probably due to Flint’s inability to shut his brain off when he had an upcoming test. Flint’s fair complexion had begun to reveal how little sleep he had been getting and his dark brown, almost black, hair stuck up in all directions which really showed just how restless his sleep had gotten. Lastly, his light eyes, that could seemingly look straight into your soul, had dulled ever so slightly. Despite their concern Lev quickly averted their gaze and pretended to be busy by looking down at the table, suddenly way too interested in the organization of their knick-knacks.

               In their peripheral vision they saw Flint begin to lightly rummage through the drawer, permission long understood and inquiries no longer required, in search of his favorite light hold hair gel. Said hair gel, as always, had some how found its way to the bottom of the moderately filled space. They lightly cleared their throat. “Who’s cooking this morning?” Lev asked, voice better but still half an octave higher than normal.

               It was very apparent sleep still clung to Flint’s brain with his sluggish movements and slow response.  “I believe it is Reese’s turn.” As if on que, the pair heard a smoke detector go off. The loud beeping was quickly accompanied by panicked shouting by both Reese and Beckett, the last of the four roommates. Lev looked up at Flint, who’s hair was only half styled, the two locked eyes and bolted out the door.

               They reached the kitchen, fairly quickly with a lot of bumping into one another and several apologies, to find a war zone. Or more accurately, the aftermath of a food fight. A food fight which was then followed by Reese making a serious attempt at fried eggs once the various breakfast foods had been cooked, in some cases a little too well done. An attempt that wen down gloriously in flames, unfortunately quite literally.

               Lev and Flint reacted at the same time. Lev dived for the lower cabinet next to the stove that held the lids to all the pots and pans. With their fingers crossed they grabbed the right lid, they used the lid as a shield and pulled the pan from the hot section of the stove while they capped the pan to extinguish the fire. Next thing they knew they were showered with … grains of sand? Luckily most of it hit their arm, shoulder, some even got in their hair but missed their eyes. However, a quick check revealed the grains to be table sugar.

               Lev glanced to their left to see Flint, essentially frozen, with his arm still stretched out and Beckett’s sugar canister for their tea in his hand. “You-you threw sugar at me?” Lev asked confused.

               “I was simply attempting to extinguish the fire. S-since it was a grease fire, water would’ve made things worse.” Flint began to speak faster with each word. “Sugar was the best option.” He finished without making eye contact, face slightly pinker than usual, as he slowly set the canister back down on the counter.

               Sudden laughter broke the silence. All attention fell on Reese, who was nearly completely doubled over with tears streaming down his face. “Uh Babe?” Beckett’s, gruff yet quiet, voice interrupted the laughter. A not so subtle question to the blonde to find out what was so funny.

               “I-I knew that Flint was s-sweet on Lev but as always he’s so literal.” Reese brokenly explained through rogue chuckles. The meaning of Reese’s words clicked together in Lev’s mind as they saw a smirk form on Beckett’s normally neutral face. Flint was sweet on them? Like how Beckett was on Reese before they got together? He like them? Shyly their gaze panned over to the bespectacled Raven, whose face had gotten exponentially redder than before.

               “Reese! That’s not nice.” Beckett said as he covered his mouth with the sleeve of his panda hoodie to hide his amusement.

               “Oh really? Well I know how you are attracted to a bad boy.” Reese said in a playfully husky voice as he pulled Beckett closer to him by his waist. Thee scene between the two was interrupted as Flint, uncharacteristically, ran out of the room.

               “I-I’m going to go check on him.” Lev said, not completely sure the pair heard them as they had gone back to flirting. Lev left the kitchen, deeply concerned with Flint’s odd behavior and quick exit. They went to his room and gently knocked on the door. “Flint?” Lev asked softly, but loud enough they were sure Flint would hear. When they didn’t get a reply, they gingerly opened the door, hesitant to enter without permission.

               They opened the door and looked around. Flint wasn’t in the room. Before they could move to shut the door, they felt a presence behind them. “Lev?” Flint’s smooth voice made them jump and quickly turn around. Guilt immediately washed over them for opening the door, knowing Flint was a very private person.

               “I’m so sorr-“ Lev began but was interrupted by Flint.

“It’s ok.” He said as he gently placed a hand on Lev’s upper arm. “I apologize for running out like that. I must have worried you as that is not how I normally respond to Reese’s teasing.” Flint said, avoiding eye contact, face still considerably pink. Before Lev could say anything, Flint cleared his throat. “Please come in, there is something I wish to show you.” He said with a guiding push into his room and towards his bed.

               It was Lev’s turn to blush as they sat down on Flint’s bed and looked around the room. It was very organized, various folders with labels, books on the shelves appeared to be sorted by subject and size, very little clutter and few knick-knacks on display save for what Lev had gifted him. A few framed photos sat on the bedside table, probably of Flint’s family. There was also a photo of the four of them, a rare night where they all wanted to see the same movie.

               Lev’s musings were cut short as the main light was turned off and the room was thrown into complete darkness. It was then Lev realized the sole window they were almost positive the room had, was immaculately covered to insure no light filtered in. Lev’s heart rate began to increase as panic slowly began to seep in. Their heart nearly jumped out of their chest when they felt Flint sit down next to them. “I should have warned you.” he said as if sensing Lev’s increasing levels of unease. “I know you don’t like the complete dark. However, I assure you this is the best way for you to see it.” Flint explained, his voice low and calming. Lev could feel Flint shift backwards they were afraid he was going to fall off the bed. Unfortunately, they over reached and lost their balance. Next thing they knew they found themselves laying on Flint’s chest.

               Lev was actually glad it was dark in the room, their face practically glowing with embarrassment at the situation. On reflex, Flint wrapped his arm around Lev to prevent them from falling off the twin sized bed. After a moment of sliding his hand along the wall he finally found the mechanism he was looking for. With an extra stretch he was able to push the switch up enough for what he intended.

               Lev gasped as they watched the ceiling light up in a soft glow. Lights sparkled in a gentle, yet obviously meaningful pattern. Unfortunately, they couldn’t discern what the pattern was, but it didn’t make it any less mesmerizing.

               Flint shifted so he could better see Lev’s face as he glanced up at the ceiling. “Anything involving stars are my favorite subjects.” He said as the ‘stars’ slowly changed. “That’s Ursa Major but most are familiar with it being called the big dipper.” He explained and pointed up at the simulated constellation. “If you follow the line made by the two stars of the cup you’ll find Polaris.”

               “Polaris? That’s the North Star right?” Lev asked without taking their eyes off the ceiling.

               “Uh yes, it is.” Flint confirmed, slight confusion evident in his voice. He was not use to any of the others jumping into the conversation so quickly.

               “My brother always told me a good way to remember it was that Polar bears live in the North Pole. So Polar-is-North star.” Lev explained fluctuating their voice to emphasize the nuances in the saying.  

               “I never thought of it that way, I suppose it’s a good tool to remember the information.” Flint said, still processing the saying. “Do you know why it’s such an important star in navigation?” He asked.

               Lev looked up at him. “Well, my bother would say while we were camping that if we ever got turned around or if we got separated to find it, go left, climb a hill and look for the fire or lights to get home.” They began to fidget with their fingers as uncertainty crept into their voice. “It’s the brightest star.” They all but whispered.                “Not as bright as you.” Flint said, face virtually on fire as he hit a button. The ‘stars’ briefly flashed before they swirled in another breath-taking display.

               Lev was struck by the meaning of Flint’s words right as the ‘stars’ settle and arranged themselves into words. Their heart pounded and butterflies swarmed around their stomach as they read them.

               “Will you go out with me?” written in the ‘stars’.

               Lev was speechless as they looked back up at Flint. “Flint –“ They began softly.

               “Just kiss him already!” Reese’s voice could be heard through the door followed by sounds of a struggle. Probably Beckett scrambling to pull Reese away now that they were caught eavesdropping.

               The shout was enough of a push to embolden Lev. They reached their hand up, placed it on Flint’s cheek, and gently pulled him down. “I would love to go star gazing with you.” They said before they kissed him on the cheek.

               “It’s about damn time.” Came Beckett’s voice from the still closed door.

               “Beckett! Not you too!” The pair half yelled in unison as Flint found and tossed a snow globe bouncy ball at the door. The resulting thud was quickly followed by the sound of Beckett hastily getting away from the door presumably to go after his boyfriend. Flint let out an exasperated sigh before he looked down at Lev. Once the two locked eyes they broke into uncontrolled laughter. Flint, able to calm down fairly quickly, kissed the top of Lev’s head before reaching behind his back and pulled out a box.

               Lev tentatively took the box. Inside was a necklace and ring on a chain. Both pieces of jewelry had stars and glowed in the low light of the room. “I hope you like them and will wear them, depending on how you feel that is.” Flint said as he rested his head on top of theirs.

               “I adore them, almost as much as I adore you.” Lev said with a smile and they reached into the box and pulled out the constellation necklace.  Flint sat up and took the necklace from them, a silent offer to clasp the necklace for them. They sat up and turned their back to them, giddy at the feeling. Once the necklace was clasped the pair shifted in the bed and got comfortable to enjoy the stars. Now nothing felt like it was missing.