#and Cann. WHERE YOU PISSED ABOUT CANN?

[bleedingcoffee42]

First Battalion: 👍

Second Battalion: D, E and F 🥇

Third Battalion: 🖕

[sharpvst]

just wanted to request a p2 of “just friends” where farleigh actually had a reason behind cutting yn off (had no choice) and they meet again as assigned partners for a project, where farleigh opens up to her, apologizing and being completely vulnerable (in such guilt n regret). and she isnt mad, just completely understanding of his situation 🙏🙏 something where he then develops a soft spot for her, n smut at the end if you cann?

(dont know how appropriate it is to send out a whole scenario but i wanted to give it a shot 🙌)

just friends ,

chapter two.

part one here.

i love this idea !! but i'm putting like a small little twist on it so i can make more parts for this series (:

farleigh start x fem! reader.

trigger warnings ; smut , more angst , semi public sexual teasing.

————————————————————————

" so! today is the day. " the professor's voice bellows throughout the quiet classroom. " winter break is coming up in just a few weeks. " the whole classroom smiled in unison , ready to leave this hellhole for awhile. " but , before then , we have one last project before break. i'm going to assign your partners and you will give a presentation in two weeks , sounds easy enough. " the professor chuckles , a sheet of paper crinkling in his hand. he began to call out names , until he got to the end. " farleigh and . . y/n. "

fuck.

————————————————————————

farleigh shifts in his seat , eyes staring up at her. she hasn't said a word to him since they've been assigned to do this project together. she just took control of the assignment , starting their project by herself as she wrote about some history farleigh didn't understand.

" listen. " farleigh finally spoke — trying to cut the palpable tension. she just raised an eyebrow , glancing over at him before returning to her pencil and paper. he couldn't help but roll his eyes , what did he do so wrong to deserve this? all things come to an end , it's how the world works. that's his mentality at least. " so you aren't going to talk to me ? " he asked , almost a hint of weakness in his voice.

she shook her head , barely acknowledging him. " i'm sorry if i did something to piss you off but you could at least tell me. " he found himself a bit angry , but he also felt guilty. all of these emotions running throughout his mind left a nasty taste in his mouth. " pretty sure i don't have to tell you what you did. " she finally spoke , her words laced with venom.

" there you are. " he cooed , his voice condensing. " well , you do have to tell me. " he inches just a bit closer , not wanting the classroom to hear their personal conversation , he started to whisper. she could feel herself grow cautious , she never wanted this cycle to continue. she wanted to just get over him and more on . . but it's harder than she thought.

she stayed silent , her face turning a new shade of red. " oh come on . . don't do this to me. " he begged , he drops his pencil , using his now free hand to touch the inside of her thigh. " i'm sorry. " he found his hands slowly moving from her inner thigh to her knee , then right back up.

she shivered , she hated this. she couldn't bring herself to look over at the bastard. " you're not sorry. " she whispered , a sigh leaving her lips. she knew him. " but i am. " he shot back quickly , offended by her not believing him. " y/n. " he spoke firmly now. his voice drove her insane in the best and worst ways possible. before he could speak again — the bell rung. she stood up quickly , grabbing her things and shuffling towards the professor.

he couldn't make out what she was saying to the professor , so he got closer , just pretending to leave class.

" can i . . . switch partners? "

————————————————————————

farleigh slammed his dorm room shut , throwing his bag straight onto the floor as a huff leaves his lips. that fucking bitch. what did i do wrong ? he's having trouble coming to terms that he did in fact fuck up whatever they had. he sat on his bed , his head hurting from all of this nonsense.

on the other side of the dorms , paige found herself in her room , trying her best to keep her mind off of farleigh. every time she saw his face she just kept remembering the good times. the quiet moments after sex , the quiet moments after he'd take care of her , the quiet moment where he broke her heart. she could feel her blood boil. she looked around her room , trying to break her focus - only to see one of his shirts on the floor.

he threw his shirt on the floor , rushing over to her bed with a wide smile on his face. she was laying down already , bra barely hanging on as she threw it over her head and across the room somewhere. he leaned down on top of her , pressing his lips against her own — a long passionate kiss ensues. hands wandering , lips clashing , sweat building on their bodies. he dipped his fingers down into her cunt , giving her that stretch she so desperately craved from him. " you look so fuckin' pretty baby. " he whispered between her lips. " so fuckin' good for me. " his words drove her mad , she let out a loud moan — he couldn't help but chuckle from the reaction that he was dragging out of her. " need you far , please. " she begged and begged until he gave her what she wanted , him buried deep inside of her.

her hands found her sensitive bud , lips parted as she called out farleigh's name silently. tears streaming down her cheeks as she pleasured herself to the thought of him. she missed him , she needed him. that fucking asshole.

————————————————————————

a knock at his door , he shot up quickly. he made his way over , opening the door slowly. he could smell the sex on her , and he could tell she had been crying.

" ready to work on that project ? " he said , letting her walk into his dorm room , getting a sense of deja vu.

" yeah. "

————————————————————————

hii i know i haven't been on here much but i've just been working tons! i know this isn't exactly what they described in the request but i'm taking that idea and kind of splitting it up into different parts! you'll see what i mean when i get around to writing the next part!! thank you guys for being patient with me and supporting me! you guys are the best. <3

[travllingbunny]

So, The Apprentice, directed by Ali Abbasi and starring Sebastian Stan, Jeremy Strong, Maria Bakalova and Martin Donovan, had its world premiere on Monday at the Cannes festival. I have tried to avoid reading too many of the reviews, because most of them are written by people who seem to think they should be describing specific scenes (how do you write a spoiler-filled review for a movie based on real life? That's how), but I have still read several reviews in full and quotes from many others that have been plastered across social media, and seen reactions on Twitter.

And at this point I just have to address how terrible many of these reviews are.No, I don't mean in the sense that they are negative about the movie, I mean that they are terribly written and contain insane, stupid arguments. I will not be able to see the film until it is released worldwide (probably in the autumn), so I can't talk about the film itself and its quality, but some of the arguments are bad by themselves. It's not surprising that, due to the topic of the movie (you know), many are unable to be normal about it even when writing professional reviews. But can you write reviews that don't use arguments like.. (and here am I'm going to list increasingly bad, stupid arguments, with the dumbest and most insane one at the end (including a quote from a review that exudes homophobia and antisemitism))

"Why is this movie made, why now, do we really need it?" (We don't need any movie. No movie is a necessity. And maybe your review shouldn't be about you being pissed off to begin with that there's a movie about Trump, even if it's highly critical and unflattering.)

"We already know all this" (What else did you expect?! That's true of any movie or other fictional work based on real life events and people. Every such movie only tells events you already know if you have done a minimum of research on the topic -information is available online for everyone to see. .Unless you go and just make up things. Should a film based on real events include made up stuff to be better?? Not that the general audiences tend to know all about the real life topics of various biopics and real life fictional work, they usually don't because people don't read up on everything. )

-"Since these things are already known, it's unlikely that it could be a game changer in the elections" - Of course it won't. Who in the right mind ever expects a movie to change minds (people who don't like what's shown will just say it's lies and propaganda, which the Trump campaign is already saying) and affect elections?! What made you think that's what it's meant to do, or what movies generally do.

Anything along the lines of "Trump would hate/love seeing..." Why are you trying to read his mind? Especially weird when you see negative reviews based on the idea "Trump would actually love this because [reasons]" (especially wild knowing some of the extremely unflattering things shown in the movie, but these comments usually contain weird projections to the effect that he will think he looks cool because he 'wins' in the end? Which may say a lot about the people saying these things) Meanwhile, the Trump campaign is threatening to sue the movie

"The movie is tepid, doesn't go far enough... " (OK, in what way...?) "in making Trump look bad enough. it's so dangerous to humanize him" (?!) I guess the better approach would be to portray him as an alien monster from outer space who was born evil. This is obviously stupid in itself, but even wilder when you know it's about a movie where (SPOILER)................................ ....................................he is shown raping his wife............................................................................................. What does it say about you if you think this is still not unflattering enough? (Then again, Trump is not the only POTUS who has had multiple allegations of rape, sexual assault and sexual harrassment against him, in fact that's true of 3 of the 5 last Presidents of the USA including the curent one, so it's more of a feature than a bug in US politics...)

and then similar to this, but even wilder, is the absolute worst argument/criticism I've seen (and it says a lot that this is these are the only negative criticisms of the two central performances that I've seen): the performances are weak because those figures are are not caricatured enough?!

This last argument is something I've seen in only two reviews, but it's so bad that I just have to single it out.

One such is The Telegraph review, which argues that Stan's approach is "too sensitive" and that the role needed an actor who is "more of a caricaturist"?!

I thought this was the worst review I've seen, but it gets even worse in this review from something called Little White Lies (I'm linking the Tumblr repost, because I'm not giving this crap a click):

WTF?! Aside from why you would expect the performance to be campy (I know why...) apparently this dude thinks it's a failing that Jeremy Strong is giving a credible and realistic portrayal of Roy Cohn rather than making him look like a homophobic, antisemitic stereotype?! (I don't know if this dude's description of this other performance is accurate, but I'm going by what is said here.) Which this guy thinks is just the right way to go - obviously he believes (like quite a few liberals seem to) that it's OK and in fact desirable to be bigoted when it's against people who are/were bad, right wing and bigoted themselves. See, Roy Cohn was gay and Jewish and he hated being gay (true) and hated being Jewish (debatable), so it's not only perfectly OK but in fact awesome to be homophobic and antisemitic towards him? Oh but see it's fine because he was a hypocrite? Well, I have news for you - so are you. F**k off.

[scoonsalicious]

man i miss Pocket x Buckybaby🤍

Major x Bucky are like the older wise version of Pocket X Buckybaby. Pocket and Buckybaby (as the nickname) are the babies. Our babies.

Reading unusable just made my heart swell with emotions. The snippet of Unbroken LEFT ME BROKEN. I can’t.

As much as I enjoy Major x Bucky, Pocket x Buckybaby is tattooed in my heart.

Btw I just saw someone said they’re team Lebron😂, and i think it’s because Major kinda looks like the ‘mean’ girl in Lizard’s POV. (If we switch Lenovo as reader, gahdamnn, everyone would be pissed at Major)… or they just love chaos AHAHAHAHAH.

Major does have flaws but subtle, and not the Pocket level kind of flaws. I can tell Major is not perfect. I have a feeling that she’s actually insecure of her own appearance and action but always keep her head high due to her divorce, something like that la.

I get it why it bothers some readers because we haven’t yet to see her bad bad moments. Plus, we were introduced with Major being the ‘baddie’/‘independent’ woman from the beginning. It is a drastic change from Pocket to Major. Not to mention this reader and Bucky are like rabbits 24/7😂 We’re seeing majorly of their body/physical chemistry here before it starts going to the emotional chemistry. (Might I also remind people that things would be crazy after Major and Bucky is officially in a relationship because that means war for Lebron?😂We’re still in the introduction on its way to rising action!!)

Also, we’ve been seeing more on Bucky’s and Lenovo’s POV (especially Bucky). It’s refreshing after Unwanted but I do hope we get to see Major’s POV soon because I’m starting to get attached on Bucky😂 I feel like I’m Bucky. Not only that, but Mother Pookie great mind too. I can’t wait for whatever she’s planning on WFLT.

Anyways, I feel like I haven’t done this for a long time but I wuv you Mother Pookie🩷🩷🩷. Here is your kitten smooches to boost your day!!!

PS// There are new pics of Sebastian Stan (at the Cannes event i think). He so cute. Too fucking cute. I want to pinch his cheek!!! HE SO CUTE LIKE A SMOL BLACK KITTY. I just wanna pet him.

(This is how I see him in the pic)

Me too, Pookie. Me, too. It's why I'm struggling with WFLT; I keep wanting to run right back to them. Pocket and her BuckyBaby are, always and forever, my babies, just like you said. So, I'm eager to get to Unbroken eventually. Even if, for now, I'm just jotting down little snippets here and there as they come to me.

Major and her Bucky are indeed more mature individuals, lol, which might be why it's harder to write them, because my brain just wants to jump to the most dramatic, angsty shit possible, but I am like 'NO! These are adults!'

Lizard is where I will have to get my drama out, lol. Girl's gonna do some crazy shit. Like, not full-on Cunthrage-evil, but more real-world crazy. Like, if you were friends with her on socials, you wouldn't interact, but you wouldn't block her, either, because the drama is too good.

Major's not perfect. She's got some combat-related PTSD we're going to explore, and though she would probably never admit it, she's insecure about Bucky's relationship with Lily. I know we're focusing a lot in these early chapters on Major and Bucky's... well, sexcapades, really, but I wanted to establish them as being crazy for one another, and to kind of really showcase how quick of a change this is for Lily.

But as you said, this is the RISING ACTION, lol; we'll get there!

But, I, too, love chaos. (Actual photo of me climbing the ladder of chaos below)

I love you so much, Pookie! <3 I hope you and your kittehs are well!

[ssparksflyy]

hello hello! i’m kinda new to requesting so i’m sorry if this bad. but umm thoughts/hcs on hades!reader dating luke?!?!? pretty pls 🥹

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

luke castellan dating hcs ! ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: luke castellan x child of hades!reader warning(s): swearin, SOFTIE luke a/n: tell me why i had a whole backstory planned out but then was like 'omg wait this aint even hcs fr' + lets pretend hades had a cabin at this time pretty please :)

this aint for the best, my reputation's never been worse so, you must like me for me ♡

you guys are fr so rep coded ugh

everybody thought he was crazy for dating a child of hades

but they dont know you like he does frrrr

they dont even try to get to know u so like stfu

luke however , had no fear when he decided to finally walk up to you and start a conversation one day

he introduced himself, as did you

from that point on you became inseparable

turns out u had a lot in common ( a shit ton of trauma ) and u were not like anything people said u were like at all

he really doesnt care what anybody thinks, if theres one things he knows, is its to not judge someone based off their godly parent

he also wasnt intimidated by the fact you were a child of the big three

he saw you for you, and ignored everything else ♡

but youd better believe he defends you at any chance he gets

he doesnt fight anybody

( physically , at least )

no, no, he finds another way to fuck up their lives and make them pay

send in the stolls!

he lets his gremlin ass little brothers deal with the person while he takes u on a cute lil date away from them😙

alright so i think luke gets pretty insecure about his scar

he gets mad about how he got it, then in the midst of just being pissed off at his dad and how his quest went in general, he just breaks down and wishes it would disappear :(

( SHUT UP YALL IM A SUCKER FOR LUKE LIKE THIS UGHHHH I CANN HELP HIM I SWEARRR )

but he would literally FOLD when you kiss or touch it

he gets all flustered and embarrassed nd shit 😋

it just snaps him back into reality, and allows him to find some joy while thinking about it

he literally could be like

" i hate that dumbass dragon and i hate my dumbass dad for not helping me or giving me attention when i needed it, im so tired of being ignored, but (y/n) likes kissing and tracing my scar so its ok :)"

luke likes kissing your hands as a way to show you he isn't afraid of your powers

yall ever seen that thing where like person a cups person b's cheek nd then person b kisses their palm?? yea. luke would do that.

he's obviously the king of sneaking out

he usually sneaks out of his cabin after curfew and heads to yours

nd sometimes you take the risk and sneak into his, coming in through the window by his bed

but then you gotta get up early and sneak out

( he would walk out of cabin 13 with a SMIRK )

one time you both knocked tf OUT in the hermes cabin and didnt wake up to sneak back out

...u woke up with a disposable camera in ur face

the rest of ur day consisted of giggles when you passed and teasing from the hermes cabin

its ok tho bcs luke was right there with you ♡

eventually, people stopped being assholes to you

they started including you in things and you actually made some genuine friends !

at first, you were a little hesitant because you thought they were all in on some joke you weren't aware of

but you quickly realized they were just trying 2 be better people

soon u and luke became everybody's fav couple ♡♡

annabeth loves u like a sister fr

she was the person who would sit though lukes rambling about you

nd she really likes u, she was one of the first people who saw you not for who your godly parent was, but for you

shes ur #2 supporter ( luke being #1, duhhh )

its literally u and luke vs the world

ur always on each other's side, always there for each other when needed

you guys often have talks about your parents

their both absent, so youve got that in common!

hades really hadnt done anything for you besides claim you

and we all know how hermes ignored luke as if he were a spam call

you knew exactly how to comfort each other because you understood what the other person was going through

luke was forever grateful for you

im seriously torn on whether a child of hades would join luke

we know nico didnt

but nico didnt even really know him, soo

idk ill leave it up 2 u ♡♡

a/n pt.2: heyyy! idk if these were kinda short, but i hope u enjoyed!! im v tired so ill proofread in the morning but have a good day/night!!

peace from manhattan,

percy jackson ♡

[anhed-nia]

Recently, someone asked me where I draw the line with horror movies. She expected that we all have subjects or scenarios that are a non-starter because they're just too scary, disgusting, or distasteful. I had a hard time answering her question, because that's just not how I operate; like, it used to be that I wouldn't watch any pseudo-snuff fare like FACES OF DEATH, but then I actually saw that movie and realized that I like it. I guess I'm circumspect about movies that focus on sexual assault, because that's the most likely thing to offend me if its "handled wrong" in my rather mercurial opinion, but that still won't stop me. Some people (usually parents) can't stand seeing children in peril, but I definitely don't have that problem. Generally speaking, the more you threaten me with a bad time, the more attracted I am to the challenge of enduring it.

But, with all that on the table--and I have no idea what this says about me--I have a hard time with body horror. And by that, I mean a different thing than what usually comes to mind. Like, often when my personal lord and savior David Cronenberg sends a movie to Cannes, we get all these reports back of walkouts and vomiting in the aisles, and like…I would agree that CRIMES OF THE FUTURE offers one of the most transgressive images ever committed to film, but I can take that. (I'll take it and like it!) However, I'm really afraid of modern slaptstick comedy. It's not that I'm too good for lowbrow humor, but so many movies by folks like the Farrellys and the Zuckers just amount to torture porn for me. They're almost always "funny" mainly at the expense of the body: Somebody always winds up in a situation that's like something out of SALO: 120 DAYS OF SODOM, shitting and pissing their pants, suffering unwanted sexual experiences, eating or drinking something they shouldn't be, and generally being corporeally humiliated to the point that if it happened to you in real life, you'd never come back from it. To me, this kind of material escapes the bounds of actual-comedy and becomes some sort of grim purgative ritual for humanity's profound and enduring sense of shame. There's no joy in the laughter I've heard when I consented to watch such things in group settings, just this weird, shrill, pre-nervous breakdown anxiety that I don't find it at all fun or funny to be around, or to experience myself.

It may also be worth mentioning that I'm somewhat emetophobic. Like when I saw that scene in POLTERGEIST as a kid, the fact that the guy was throwing up at all was just as upsetting to me as the otherworldly reason it was happening. This is a fear that I just-barely have under control as an adult who is forced to live in a body that must occasionally, for perfectly healthy reasons, reject something I put in it.

Anyway, TRIANGLE OF SADNESS is very good, and it has a point to make, and as someone who is not in the luxury yacht class of people, I have a feeling I should enjoy watching a bunch of rich parasites weeping and screaming while basting in their own juices. And as a devoted fan of the horror genre, whose purpose in life is to show you the thing you don't want to see, I should be the target audience for something that evokes such a crystal clear vision of hell. But honestly, I don't know how well I was able to appreciate it while my brain was just going, "Yup, this is pretty much the worst thing that can happen. The worst thing there is. And it's still happening. God I hope this never happens to me. Is it still going on? …yeah, it's not over. I wonder how long this can happen for. I wonder if this happened to you, if you would go through some kind of permanent psychological change. I wonder if that happened to the people who were trapped on that stranded, contaminated cruise that was in the news a while ago. I wonder if that's happening to me now, just because I'm watching this movie. Wait, is it still going on? …Yup, I guess so," etc. I started to get sympathetic cramps, and I felt my face tingling in a way that I only associate with having consumed poison. I started sifting through memories of other movies that made me want to slam on the breaks: certain of the Guinea Pig films, CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST, STREET TRASH, NEKROMANTIK 2 when they club the seal, the interminable rape scene in IRREVERSIBLE, Craig Zobel's devastating COMPLIANCE, the grand finale of CENTIPEDE HORROR… I think all of the competing candidates involved extreme violence, which I guess tells you something about how I rate the yacht segment of TRIANGLE even though there are no rapes or murders involved. As it dragged on, I wasn't thinking anymore about how great it was that all the selfish, destructive rich people were having their thin veneer of bullshit dignity ripped away; I was just thinking about how unhappy I was, and how it seemed like I wasn't going to be feeling better any time soon.

Actually I worried that I might have nightmares about TRIANGLE OF SADNESS, and I did. I had a dream that some friends and I saw it at a festival where there was mass sympathetic vomiting, and we later learned that Ruben Östlund had learned some things about human neurology that ensured that what he showed, and how he showed it, was guaranteed to make any viewer vomit no matter what--sort of like the mythical "brown note" that's supposed to make you shit your pants. In the dream, I wasn't sure if I admired his level of calculation, or if I just felt totally manipulated and ripped off by being forced to have a bodily reaction that had little to do with my thoughts and feelings or appreciation for art. And like, maybe option #2 is how I really feel about this movie!

That's not to say that the movie doesn't have strengths besides the extreme horror of being doomed to a human body. It's funny (in other ways), it's got a bunch of great performances, it looks good, and it's reasonably smart. But on that last note, I scanned a bunch of reviews from prominent critics that denounced it as a lite, too-easy version of this form of social criticism, and that may be true. I may not be intellectually equipped to really address that, but it could be that the movie's initial, visceral shocks overwhelm one's assessment of how sharp its philosophical commentary actually is. I'd say this matter requires further examination, but I can almost guarantee that I'll never watch TRIANGLE OF SADNESS ever again as long as I live. And I've seen CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST more times than I choose to admit.

PS I wanted to say something about how weird it is that we've all been sharing this collective dream about extremely rich people experiencing a personal apocalypse on seafaring tourist expeditions--I mean am I the only one who feels like they're going insane from the bizarrely close concentration of a whole bunch of movies and shows that do this exact thing? But now I'm just exhausted, so somebody else will have to work that out. I'll be too busy doing some soul searching about why I find movies that are drenched in blood, guts, and misery so much easier to take than what happens in TRIANGLE OF SADNESS.

[tintenherz]

I need to vent somewhere and this platform has always been safer.

There's a man in my department (he has a senior role, he's 40yo) who is NUTS. 2 women who have already left the company told me to stay away from him when I started working, because apart from lazy he is a bad person and protected by our supervisor (a 52 yo woman!) I thought he was only a nerd and stupid me I befriended him with time, because he was suposed to be my tutor and train me. (Spoiler alert: he didn't. My other coworkers did).

Anyway with time he started to make me uncomfortable with personal questions and I told him to stop with such conversations so he told me he was the one pissed I felt attacked by his innocent attempt "to know me". He started following me in Instagram and when I asked him why he told me he just wanted to keep in touch.

Well he had this way of talking about himself as a feminist and how good of a man he was to his family (a wife and a 3yo daughter) when he at the same time was lusting after an american colleage he asked nudes from to me "kidding". I told this friend of mine if she knew that he would ask me for her nudes and she replied he even asked her himself. He would say to her he would help her in exchange for nudes. "As a joke, of course" I WAS SHOOKED. She told me one of the reasons she left was because this man was so protected by our supervisor he felt he could behave like this.

Well it took time to me because these things happened with time, not at first. He would stalk me on instagram then say why I wouldn't meet him -and his family - when it was obvious I was meeting other people. At first I put excuses because he was very aggresive and I just didn't wsnt to deal with him during work, but then I got so pissed I stopped. He then would confront me as why I didn't tell him about me anymore and I pretended to not know what he was talking about. At that time I was angry because previously when I didn't know him that well I told him about my family and so and he took advantage of it grooming me. Saying how tought my family was and that I deserved better. That I should stay with him and his family. Little by little he freaked me out because he even started speaking about himself as "the senpai crush" and saying if he wasn't married and had 10 years less he would be in love with me. I told him even if that was the case it didn't mean I would LIKE him. He would pretend not to read those things and it was obvious he was nuts so by that time (November/December) I stopped even replying to his "normal" texts. He would confront me, of course, so I told him that it was not normal to text me everyday and that I wouldn't be reciprocating that. He accused me of being mean and that he felt angry but he was going crying. I didn't even reply but few days after he started texting me again. He would send memes and conversations he had with his wife or other random stuff and I just ignored him but he KEPT sending texts. Every single day even 3 times a day!!! I started developing anxiety because I was scared that if I blocked him and and so since he is protected by our supervisor I would be the one getting punished. He would text my in the private work chat and AT THE SAME TIME on whatsapp. It was crazy. My psychologyst told me not to reply to a single text and feel safe removing him fron instagram and other places where he could stalk me. I blocked him on insta and removed him from my followers. Even from nintendo, and he tried to confront me so I blocked him on whatsapp as well.

I was at peace but he then started in the work group chat texting things like "I just want you all to know that I hate you" or saying goodbye like "screw you guys" so aggresive it was ibvious ge was feeling furious about me but couldn't confront me directly so he would text those things in the group.

And nobody says or does anything. My supervisor speaks about him saying "he's like a son to me" and makes up excuses for him not to be working. She even tell us we cannot go on holidays at the same time because at least one person has to be working on X when he isn't working in ANYTHING. And while she says these things in the group chat he laughs saying "its gonna be like the hunger games to ask for holidays eh" for US. I can't deal with this, nobody does anything and his behaviour and the supervisor's is SO NORMALISED that I want to scream. My coworkers told me it's a lost war. That I would only bump into a wall.

This man has no friends or other family so he even chats in the group when he shouldn't, and trying to engage people in conversations about things when EVERYBODY ignores him it's so cringe. He's crazy seriously and I'm so pissed I saved all conversations, screenshots and info about what he does in order to report him when I am able to. I wanted to wait until I got a new job but the situation makes me soooo pissed I don't know if I can deal with this even now.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Good Girl

Pairing: Chris Evans x black!reader

Summary: The reader acts up at a party and a Chris decides to do something about.

Warnings: Smut of course 😏

A/N: Apparently I have a thing about writing Chris in secret relationships. This fic was inspired by the photo below 👇🏿

Oh shit, you were fucked! He stood there angry in his all white linen suit with his drink in his hand.

You should’ve known better not to piss him off like that, but when the party started you were in a petty mood. Chris and you had some little argument that you couldn’t even remembered what it was about before your party and being your petty little self, you decided to make him jealous.

There was a bunch of celebrities at your pool party and you spent most of your time twerking on Drake. To everyone else that was normal, but to Chris you were crossing a line. No one knew that you two were a couple, because as a renowned club owner you didn’t want to get involve with any celebrity and it’s also fun to sneak around at events.

“Y/N/N, where’s somewhere quiet I can go? My agent won’t stop calling me?” His fake niceness had you scared. There was no way you were gonna fall for that.

“Anywhere upstairs is fine. But fair warning, if you end up in my room, don’t judge me.” You turned back to continue your conversation with your friends, but Chris wasn’t easily deterred.

“How about you be my guide and that won’t happen?” His smile was inviting, but you had to be strong.

As you were trying to say no, Megan was standing behind him, mimicking the cowgirl position, mouthing to you to “Tap that.”

To get Megan to stop and knowing you’d be in even more trouble if you told Chris no, you escorted him upstairs.

Chris had to restrain himself walking up the stairs behind you. All his attention was on the curve of your ass and how it was eating up your bikini bottoms.

“Walking slow won’t stop your punishment. In fact, the longer you make me wait, the harsher it’ll be.” Chris informed you, catching onto your reason for going up the stairs so slow.

Wanting to get it over with, you ran up the rest of the way up to your room. Once you were inside, Chris didn’t say a word. He just stared at you while rolling up his sleeves.

“You can’t spank me this time. The marks would show and I’m not covering up. This bikini is too cute.” You tried to establish some semblance of dominance.

Still Chris didn’t say a word. He just quirked an eyebrow that said, “Oh really?” Chris gently pushed you to your knees, pulling out his hardened length.

You already knew the punishment and assumed the position, hands on your thighs and mouth open. Chris pushed his stiffened dick in your mouth and begun to throat fuck you.

Thanks to all your training, you were able to fit him all the way in your mouth, but he was still brutal with his thrusts and you loved it. “Since you wanna act like a slut, I’m gonna treat you like one.” Chris grunted above you.

His strokes reminded you of how he treats your pussy, rough and methodical. You had to dig your nails into your thighs to stop them from dipping inside your bikini bottoms; you didn’t need to get into anymore trouble with Chris.

Chris’ eyes dipped down to you and he darkly chuckled at your struggle. He pulled out of your mouth with an audible pop and leaned towards your face, gripping the sides tightly. “Awww, look at the little slut. Me fucking your throat made your tight little pussy wet, huh? You want me to fuck that pussy, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered.

He spit in your mouth and shoved his thumb inside for you to suck. “Well, who am I to deny my baby girl? Get on the bed.”

Quickly, you jumped to your feet and laid on the bed. Not too long after, Chris stripped down and joined you on the bed. You didn’t get to admire the work of an art he calls a body, because he flipped you over on your stomach. With his teeth he untied your bikini and pulled it off.

Once you were completely naked, he ordered you to arch your back. Chris wasted no time and slammed into you, almost causing you to cum right at that moment.

Gripping the back of your neck, Chris grunted in your ear, “Don’t you dare fucking cum until I say you can.”

A muffled ‘yes sir’ escaped your lips and Chris resumed his pace. By the way he was fucking you, you could tell this was all about his pleasure, but you were still enjoying it. Subconsciously, Chris always assured you were pleased when you were in trouble with him, that’s why you were always being a brat.

“Can I- cann can I- can I please cum?” You begged through Chris’s masterful strokes.

“Hell no! Only good girls who know who they belong to can cum. Did you really think I let you cum after you shaking your ass on another man in front of me? Oh sweetheart, that’s adorable,” Chris taunted.

Aware that he was running low on time before your party guests would be curious about where you and Chris was at, he began chasing his release. The sound of you begging him over and over again pushed him over the edge, making him paint your walls with his nut.

All he wanted to do is bask in his post-nut afterglow and cuddle with you, but y’all had a party to get and your punishment still wasn’t over. So, regretfully he got up and went to get a towel to clean you up.

After he made sure you were good, he got dressed again and came to sloppily kiss you, taking your breath away. “Get dressed and be downstairs in five minutes. If you’re not, you’ll get a repeat of what just happened all night long.” He threatened with a squeeze of your neck before walking back downstairs.

Hurriedly, you put your bikini back on, which was torture because it rubbed against your sensitive clit. You spent your last minute looking for one more piece of clothing before heading back outside. Luckily, you found it in the nick of time, because you knew Chris would be timing you and if you were even a second late, he would make good on his promise.

Chris’ eyes lit up when he saw you. He had to fight the smirk on his face when he noticed you in a swimsuit sarong. Even without him saying anything, he knew he had an influence on you.

Desperately, you wanted to curl up next to him and hang on his arm, but you couldn’t. So, you settled for the next best thing: randomly popping up in conversations he had. Chris was social so, he talked to various groups of people and you being the hostess gave you the perfect opportunity to suddenly appear in those groups.

It was becoming so frequent that Meg began to notice, but she kept her mouth quiet until you started to pretend to be sick. “Bitch, ain’t nothing wrong with you. You just trying to get rid of everyone so you can have Chris all to yourself.”

“How’d you know?” You whispered.

Meg scrunched up her face and laughed at you, pulling you away from the rest of your guests. “Girl, you’ve been near him since he’d broke your back upstairs. Who knew Captain America was so nasty?”

Your jaw dropped at her revelation. “Your secret is safe with me. I’m just mad you ain’t tell me sooner. How long y’all two been together?”

“A couple of months.”

“Well, I guess I understand why y’all keeping it a secret. Don’t want the media all in your business.”

“Exactly! And the sneaking around makes the sex so much better.” Both you and Megan laughed so loud at your joke that y’all made people look at y’all to see what was so funny.

“Since, you figured us out can you do me a huge favor?” You asked with puppy dog eyes and a pout.

Your friend laughed at you because she already knew what the favor was. “Start telling people you don’t feel well and get them the hell up out your house?” Enthusiastically you shook your head yes. “Girl, I got you. Go lay on a lounge chair and I’ll start clearing out.”

Thankful that you had a great friend in Megan, you laid on the chair, appearing sick.

“Alright y’all, now y’all don’t have to go home but you got to get the hell up out of here! My bestie don’t feel good and y’all gots to go!” You had to hold back your smile after listening to Meg’s announcement.

Everyone understood and started to file out. Some would stop by to tell you to feel better and walk off, but one person decided to sit in the chair next to you, blocking the sun. “You’re something else. You know that right?”

Cracking one eye open you peeked at your boyfriend and smiled at him. “How else am I gonna get you alone? And I really do feel sick.”

Chris laid his hand against your forehead. “Huh, you don’t have a fever. What kind of sickness is this?”

“It’s perpetual horiness and can only be cured by penetration from the patient’s boyfriend.”

The way the two of you were seated had other’s view of what you were doing blocked. Grabbing his hand, you slipped it in your bottoms for him to feel how horny he left you. “See daddy, you got me all wet. You just gonna let your baby girl suffer like this?”

He couldn’t resist you or himself anymore. Chris had to see you cum, and it was going to be because of him. “No, I won’t. Lay back and let daddy take care of you.” Chris ordered, just before he started fingering you.

His fingers were hitting the right spot, making you quiver so hard you leaned into Chris, gripped his forearm and cover your mouth with it to quiet your moans.

Both of you were too caught up in chasing your pleasure that you didn’t notice Sebastian and Anthony approach you.

“Oh wow, you don’t look or sound too hot Y/N,” Anthony commented, mistaking your moan of pleasure for one of pain.

Instead of letting you talk, Chris responded. “Yeah that’s why I’m gotta stay back and make her some of my mom’s famous tomato soup.”

Sebastian winced at the mention of Chris taking care of you. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing. One time I got sick on set and Chris went total mother hen on me. So, don’t be surprised when your ready to kick him out.”

Just to ensure you didn’t let a moan slip out, you offered them a small smile. The boys talked a little bit more with Chris before finally leaving.

Once they were out of earshot you punched Chris in his shoulder. “Did you really have to keep fingering me while you talked to them?”

“C’mon don’t pretend like you didn’t like it,” Chris smirked at you. “I bet that turned you on even more.”

You hid your face in the crook of his arm because you didn’t want him to know that he was right. Something about him fucking you while talking to his friends turned you on.

When you didn’t respond to him, Chris moved his fingers faster and started circling your clit. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train and this time you actually bit into his arm to stop you from screaming out in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful when you cum. Daddy’s gonna take care if you all night, ok?” Chris pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Alright, the house is cleared out and I’m about to head out. Have fun, you nasties,” Megan announced.

You and Chris both thanked Megan and told her goodbye. As soon as you heard the door closed Chris picked you up and ran up the stairs.

He threw you on the bed and began to strip. “You’re gonna be a good girl from now on? Cause daddy doesn’t like punishing you.”

Licking your lips, you crawled off the bed and help Chris take off his pants. “Yes, daddy. I’ll be good.”

Chris cupped your cheek and kissed you deeply. “Good. Now get naked and get that pretty ass in the bed, so daddy can take care of you properly.”

This time you eagerly followed Chris’ instructions, knowing being a good girl would get you exactly what you wanted.

Tags: @chaneajoyyy @chrisevansbabymama @titty-teetee @cocooned-butterfly @twistedcharismaaa @soufcakmistress

[lokiondisneyplus]

Sasha Lane always plays the rebel. “Somebody make me a f***ing fairy princess, please,” says the actor, sighing with exasperation. “I promise I won’t say f***.” She is the type of plucky young star you imagine can do anything but, until now, Lane has excelled at playing the daring renegade, whether it’s as a teenage runaway in American Honey, the dazzling coming-of-age film that made her name in 2016, as a spliff-smoking “bad kid” in The Miseducation of Cameron Post, or, this month, as a violent fugitive in Amazon Prime’s Utopia.

The 25-year-old puts these sorts of roles down to her 20 tattoos and her dreadlocks. “I’m immediately seen as dirty and dark,” she says, recalling when she attended the illustrious Met Gala event in 2018, wearing a white lace dress. “I had diamonds in my hair – diamonds,” she says, with faux indignation. “Somebody was like, ‘She's so grungy.’ I was like, ‘What about this outfit says: ‘I'm gonna do a head bang and burn a town down?’ No. I'm sipping with my pinkie up and feeling very graceful and I wish you would just let me have my moment.”

Lane is just as captivating to watch on Zoom as she is in her films. She plays with her distinctive dreads – piling them atop her head, sweeping them over her shoulder – and her hands spiral around each other as she talks in a rhythmic southern drawl. When we speak, Lane has just got off a video call with her one-year-old daughter. She's currently in Atlanta, where she’s rumoured to be shooting the new Thor-spin off series, Loki, with Tom Hiddleston. “I'm just gonna skip over that one,” she says, laughing, when asked about it.

No one could have foreseen that Lane would end up here, though she is easily one of the most intriguing actors of the moment. She’d never planned on acting, let alone liked it, and thought she’d join the Peace Corps after college. But in 2014 her life changed forever when, aged 19, she was spotted on a Miami beach by Andrea Arnold. The director had just lost her lead actor for American Honey, the dizzying, sun-soaked Cannes Jury Prize-winner about a girl who decides to cut and run with a band of misfits. Among the tens of thousands of students getting wasted on spring break, Lane stood out.

“It was a crazy trip,” says Lane. “Me and my friends had been kicked out of a hotel and we ended up on this beach. I had no care in the world and that's when Andrea saw me.” Arnold told Lane she was making a film and later that night, while two of her friends were passed out from partying on her hotel bed, Lane improvised scenes in the lobby. “I had definitely been drinking that day, but I can hold my own,” she says now.

The next day over breakfast, Arnold asked Lane to stick around for another week. Lane was cautious. “I was like, ‘Alright, well if you turn out to be a murderer this is not gonna go well for you. I know s***. You're gonna have to really hack up my body if we're gonna do this.’ Which is weird to say to someone, but I did,” says Lane. She stayed, and by the end of the week she’d been cast in the film opposite Shia LaBeouf. She dropped out of college and flew out to Oklahoma to start shooting.

Her resulting performance as Star, a teenager from a broken home who hits the road with a travelling, partying sales crew in the midwest, was magnetic. With no professional experience, Lane managed to delicately balance her character’s mixture of vulnerability and grit.

Lane, like Star, left her life behind to go on the road with the film’s cast and crew. “I didn't know how to act,” she says. “So I didn't know what to do other than pull stuff from my own mind. I got to the point where I’d be crying to Andrea, saying, ‘I can't tell the difference between who I am and who Star is.’ We were in a bubble and had no visitors. We slept in s****y motels together, we were in the van for hours. There was no escaping American Honey.”

Star’s love interest in the film is the crew’s wild, hyperactive “business manager” Jake, a rat-tailed LaBeouf who Lane was reportedly dating off-screen. LaBeouf was intense on set. In one instance, Star was supposed to be angry with Jake, but Lane was struggling to conjure the emotion. “I was just laughing,” she says. “So Shia started telling me, ‘You're ruining this scene. You're f***ing ruining the whole movie.’ I knew what he was doing but it hurt and it was pissing me off. I just snapped and then they started filming and it was like, ‘Oh right, I see what you did there. You f***er.’ It was smart.”

The kids in the film, who are from forgotten, midwestern towns, are in a demographic that Donald Trump claims to be the voice of. Our interview is a week ahead of the 2020 election, and Lane is not convinced. “He's had his time and he has nothing to show for it,” she says. “He didn't deliver. I understood, especially back then, why certain people voted for him. They just wanted to believe that he would put money in and give us jobs, but it didn't work out that way.”

Like Star, Houston-born Lane moved around a lot as a child, between Texas, Florida and Dallas, and helped raise her little sisters. “I don't really like to talk about my family but my mom was gone a lot,” she says. “I played this role of being the glue, trying to keep everyone together. I grew up really, really young. Bad things happened to me as a kid but I had this feeling that it made me a better person. I have empathy and perspective.” As a result, she continues, she “internalised a lot because I never wanted people to feel my pain. I wanted to appear strong and light and be able to take care of everyone. Meanwhile, I would sit in my closet, give myself like 10 seconds to cry, then I would suck it up and be like, ‘OK, move forward, time to go get my sisters some food and act like everything's OK.’ I got really good at pretending things were OK.”

When Lane went to college, she started to crack. “I ended up getting diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder,” she says. “There are voices in your head, things are really dark. It's hard to explain to people who care about you that you can't sleep and you're hearing voices all day and you're sad and you're just tired. By the time I was a teenager, I was so tired.”

In the weeks before Lane met Arnold in 2014, the voices were “saying something nice for the first time”. “They told me, ‘Hold on, something’s coming that will allow you to fill your purpose and let you breathe,’” she says. “People ask me all the time, ‘If American Honey didn't happen, what would you be doing?’ Truly, I don't think I'd be here. I think it saved my life.”

There is a serendipity to Lane’s acting career. First, American Honey came out of the blue. Then, in 2018, she starred in Desiree Akhavan’s gay conversion drama The Miseducation of Cameron Post as a girl raised in a hippy commune. The part resonated with Lane as someone who refuses to put a label on her sexuality and whose brother had a difficult time growing up gay and black in Houston. “I've never seen myself as someone who's like, ‘Hey, I'm queer, I'm bisexual, I'm this,’” says Lane. “I just have a very broad and open and unique way of loving. I can literally fall in love with a f***ing squirrel. Anyone.”

Her brother, she says, “always prayed he’d be normal”, much like the characters in Cameron Post try to “pray away the gay”. She says the film moved some elderly conservative viewers to tears and has helped to change people’s minds.

After that, Lane landed roles in the warm indie drama Hearts Beat Loud and the horror Daniel Isn’t Real, and her latest project is the US remake of Dennis Kelly’s Utopia, about a gang of bright youngsters who are in possession of a cult graphic novel that seems to predict disastrous real-world epidemics, making them the target of a shadowy deep state organisation. Lane plays yet another woman on the run, Jessica Hyde, who has been evading The Network all her life and who helps the young group survive.

Lane studied feral cats to get into the character’s mindset. “For them, everything is survival mode,” she says. “You're terrified someone's gonna capture you. You don't hang in packs because you're a loner. That's Jessica Hyde.”  

She may be stuck playing the rebel but, through playing misunderstood outliers like Jessica Hyde and Star, Lane wants her work to bring people together and help us to understand each other. “I’m not the biggest public speaker,” she says, “but if I can make films that touch hearts and connect people, that's beautiful. Of course I want to be a part of that.”

[osugna]

Wong Kar Wai’s Happy Together is released in 1997, two decades before Hollywood making Moonlight and Call Me By Your Name, the movie transcends time as it is one of a kind. By following the relationship between two men, the movie is labeled as homo flick. However, Wong Kar Wai’s approach doesn’t like other gay films that stress on gender preference, and with no women as main characters, the film is in a way unisex. Happy Together digs deep into the emotions of two people in love and it is purely an exploration of love.

Lai Yiu-Fai (Tony Leung) and Ho Po-Weng (Leslie Cheung), a couple has been broken up and reconciled several times before heading to Argentina for a long trip. Ho is the one who always initiates separation and also asks “can we start over again?”. When they get lost when driving to Iguazu Falls during the trip, they quarrel and separate again. As the movie, narrated by Lai Yiu-Fai, the more introspective of the two, follows Lai around the city, the cacophonous urbanity serves as a mood-enhancing stimulant only underscores his alienation and melancholy.

After breaking up, Lai takes a job as a doorman in a tango club. One night, Ho, who has been hustling for a living, appears with a client whose stolen watch he gives Lai to help pay his air fare home. Lai is livid. But after Ho is seriously beaten up by the client, Lai allows Ho to recuperate in his shabby rooming house and nurses Ho back to health. 

Then the movie switches from black-and white to full colour. He takes care of him well and he is in love again, he is even happy at work now. There are sweet moments such as sharing the same cigarette as Ho’s hands are injured, staring at each other closely at sleep, lying on the same bed, dancing and kissing passionately in the kitchen. I’m starting not to care that it is a gay relationship, it is just two people who are madly in love. 

Tony Leung and Leslie Cheung are two huge actors in Hong Kong cinema, they portrays the characters with raw intensity. Tony’s Lai Yiu-Fai is caring and fully committed to his partner. Even then, Ho behaves like a spoiled dictatorial brat, demanding that his lover, stricken with the flu, leave his sick bed to cook for him. Looking back later, Lai moons about how the period of Ho’s recovery was one of the couple’s happiest. He loves him, so he falls for him every time Ho wants to reunite. While Leslie’s Ho Po-Weng is romantic, saying words that melts Lai’s heart and teaching to him to dance, but he is a recklessly free spirit and his wanton promiscuity is a bone of contention. 

They had been happy together, but not for long. Quarrels arises when possessiveness and jealousy which are driven from love are intruding their relationship. Ho finds out that Lai has taken his passport, and Ho gets furious. When Ho gets to know about Lai’s male colleague, he becomes inquisitive about their relationship, Lai lies about it to make him jealous.

It’s hard to watch when you see that they are in love, but they don’t understand each other’s intention, and they do things that will erode the love. Lai stocks cigarettes just because he doesn’t want Ho to go out at night. Ho is pissed as he always wants to be free, but Ho doesn’t know his personality has given Lai insecurity. 

They have stuck in the loop of separation and reconciliation. Is it because they lack understanding and they are not willing to compromise? Both characters are flawed as they are human, they are in love and they selfishly want to hold each other in their own way. Perhaps the problem is because their personalities are incompatible to begin with, but they fall in love. It’s piercingly sad to see Lai eventually visit the fall alone as the pathos deepens, and in the meantime, Ho gets back to the empty apartment with packs of cigarettes, the scars left by love is evocative no matter how many times I have watched. 

Wong Kar Wai wins the best director prize at Cannes. Happy Together is stylish and powerfully moody, the sense of acute isolation while in transit is seeping through the film with the exhilarated, brooding tango music. Wong’s composition of scenes and jazzy technique capture the jumbled lives of his characters.

The cinematography of the director’s longtime collaborator, Christopher Doyle, lends the streets, alleys and bars of Buenos Aires a fizzing candy-coloured glow. Every so often, the camera momentarily draws back for a street-scene overview in which the blinking signs, traffic and clouds accelerate into a breathless sensory rush. These moments are contrasted with 10 blue-tinted shots of Iguazu Falls, which serve as a spiritual magnet for the bickering lovers. Twice in the film, the camera surveys this phenomenon in lingering, breathtaking aerial shots which seems to suck you into the emotions of the characters. 

Wong Kar Wai has revealed that the depiction of a“non-accepted” relationship is inspired by the ’97 handover of Hong Kong, where Hong Kong is like an illegitimate son of the UK. The film is called Happy Together because at that point none of them knew what was going to happen after the handover, which is in parallel to that we never see Lai return to Hong Kong and we don’t know where he goes. The title was supposed to be a question instead of an answer. In this way the movie leaves a rather optimistic note in the end. You know it’s hard for both characters to get over each other, but deep down you understand the only way of not getting hurt is to stop the loop. 

10/10

[just-another-dead-blog]

every time i hear this song i think about what it would be like to abandon all ambition and self respect and commit to being the eventual millionaire widow of an incredibly pretentious mustard yellow blazer wearing wes anderson vinyl hipster filmmaker asshole. like just take my brain out and put it in a miu miu bag, get bangs and inhabit his tired fantasy of what a wife is until he dies and leaves me everything. but paris smells like piss and I don’t know how many years I could pretend to be delighted by getting another vintage camera for my birthday. like maybe i wouldn’t have to wait too long especially if I don’t discourage him from smoking, I could even appear in one or two of his films looking absolutely stunning and my part would be tastefully small and short, a cameo (a secretary perhaps), to show that i love him and that the camera loves me but i ultimately have better things to do, I always dress as if it were for an audience and I swiftly become a style icon with my ample money and free time, and the added mystery of being the wife of a man many call brilliant (except for me, deep down) I take to this lifestyle like a duck to water, i’m very good at looking bored at parties but that will be because i actually AM bored at all the parties you know? truthfully i’m always bored, but my god it would be so easy like the particular brand of male fantasy you would have to follow in order to be kept in hermes and high ceilinged wood floored apartments is all laid out like the blueprints are all right there because these dudes never shut the fuck up about how they wish the world was. but like god i really feel like i would end up having to excuse myself from every dinner party where i’m the only person who hates woody allen and go scream into my silk cased pillow or start wearing gloves all the time and say it’s because i like the style but really its because the fact that our vintage car not having AC makes me keep slamming my hands in drawers while he’s on location grooming some 23 year old actress named Laurel with the same lines i pretended worked on me when we first met. and then suddenly i’d wake up one day, 43, alone in a bed still made on his side, to another sweet but rehearsed message on the phone saying he can’t wait to be back home. as i stand in front of the mirror over my half of our his and hers marble vanity, steadily losing counter space to my increasing array of beauty products, i’d have to confront the fact that i’ve caged myself by allowing my mental illness to be romanticised and cosigning the dissolution of my agency and independence all because i wanted to be financially secure, adored and safe behind a decades long persona of false, stylised vulnerability but now I’m stuck trying to conceal my worsening pill addiction and widening the wings of my eyeliner to hide the creases around my eyes, wondering if i will in fact end up getting everything when he dies in a freak skiing accident or if it will end up going to Laurel who he thinks I don’t know he still keeps in a high ceilinged wood floored apartment in paris even though he promised it was over after he convinced her to get rid of the baby and i walked the red carpet with him at cannes the very next day, wearing gloves longer than ever before thinking about how she’s still young enough to believe twilly by hermes can mask the stench of piss and when i last looked at her instagram it was all scans of pictures taken with a vintage polaroid. since may. her birthday. which I know remember every year as if its my own. he’s always so busy in may.

[emisonme]

PR time line.............

Some can't seem to understand, how Shmila could have helped Camila get out of the PR with the con man. Let's explore the time line and maybe you'll have a better understanding of where I'm coming from.

Camila's debut album, had an original release date, of September 2017. She would have signed a PR contract with Ew, probably late August. These PR contracts are usually for a period of time, but the start and end dates, are flexible, because of the release dates of the Artists music being flexible.

Camila probably found out, sometime in late August, that her release date was being pushed, to November. That's why she followed the con man on SM, in October. They were preparing to unleash the PR, after the release of her album, in probably early December. Just in time for the holidays.

But, her album got pushed, yet again. The new date was January 12, 2018. She does the Elvis Duran radio show, on January 11. That is the first time we hear her or anyone else, utter that fuckers name.

The next morning, she does GMA. They schedule Con to appear on the same show. Why? To give us a PUBLIC reason for them meeting and the ensuing "relationship".

Three days later, Camila does Beats 1, with Zane Lowe. That's when we got the "maybe" when asked if she had a special someone in her life. Also, the whole, "I can't say your name without smiling" bullshit.

Then on February 9. 2018, we got the E-News exclusive Mexico beach photo-shoot. That's the day the actual PR began. They had signed the actual contract, MONTHS before, but because the album kept getting pushed, so did the start date for the PR.

That being said, I'm almost certain, they only signed a 1 year contract. I'll explain. We got their one year of public bullshit, but it really got laid on thick towards the end. If you notice, they did the same thing with Lauren and Tyrone. (It stayed pretty much SM until closer to the end, when they started doing red carpets and showing up to Industry events together.)

They did the "family" holiday thing, with both families, in December and January. Then on February 1, we got the pap pics of them leaving the movies, where Camila looks upset, and Con looks pissed. We also get turfers and "fans" taking to SM saying they had been arguing and Camila had been crying. That was the start of the "trouble in paradise" narrative.

The 10th was the Grammy's. After that, they both left for Dubai, and Camila's performance at Red Fest. They spent a few days hobnobbing around the Arabian Desert, taking lots of pics. Supposedly all happy. Then on February 25, Camila took his ass to that Vanity Fair shin-dig. That was their supposed public coming out, together. Camila had zero desire to be there with that fucker, and it showed.

Then, we got Camila's birthday post, on March 3. The things she learned when she was 21. A very interesting post, indeed. Number three, on that list, was talking about how complicated life and relationships are. How the right opportunity comes at the wrong time, and having to do something hard and uncomfortable, to be happy. (yeah, like PR)

Then she talks about how falling in love is the best thing ever. That leads us to number 8. There she says, life is to short, to hang with people you don't like, be in relationships with people that don't make you happy, or do things you hate. (yeah, like PR with an asshole)

Then MFP was released on March 25. In a song, with a video dedicated to people in relationships, Camila tells the world, she dedicated MFP to her favorite person, her little sister. (that's so sweet...but also very telling)

Why are those two things important? Because I firmly believe, the "split" announcement, and the official end to her PR, was supposed to happen in March.

So, what happened? Just like there is no official start date in a PR contract, there isn't an official end date, either. It's just a suggested time frame, of 1 year, 2 years, 3 years, etc. There are no hard dates built in, because in the Music Industry, everything is about timing.

Here's how I think it was supposed to go down. I think the announcement was supposed to come, just before the release of MFP. That would have explained the dedication to her sister, and would have given that song more promo.

But probably more importantly, It would have been perfect timing for FYA, if things had played out the way they were supposed to play out. She recorded that song with Mark, back in January. I think FYA was the song Mark was planning to release, with the pre-order link, which was on April 12. It would have been the best song to release with the link, and a public "split" would have been perfect timing for the release with the pre-order link. It would have gotten a shit load of media attention.

Instead, Epic got pissed, because Camila wasn't doing what they wanted her to do. It wasn't a damn song with Canada, Camila didn't want to do. She's game to collab with Canada, and just about anyone else who wants to collab with her. It was a PR relationship with him, they wanted her to agree to, but she didn't want to do.

When are some of you going to open your eyes and realize that. Her and Canada are real life friends. She'd probably agree to release a collab a year with him, if that's what he wanted. It's just music. A PR relationship, on the other hand, is a completely different story.

Epic, Island, and maybe Andrew, didn't JUST want a song. They wanted that song, to come with the bullshit we are getting now. Camila agreed to the song, but not the PR. So, what did Epic do? They delayed the official "split" with the dickhead.

Camila bought her house in April. They delayed the announcement of the purchase, until May 13, and had his name inserted into the damn article. Making it sound like she was going to be sharing her house with his ass. Did he ever step foot in her house?

Camila went to Italy in early May. They made it look like he went with her. He may have been there, but he didn't go "with" Camila. He was there to promote one of his books. She was there to get away from all the bullshit. They did have her walk through the airport with him, when they arrived back to LA, on May 12. The 13th, we got the article about the house. May 14, was the last pics we got of the two together.

On May 20, Camila posted one of the saddest pics, I've seen. You could tell, she was anything but happy. That's the day they want us to believe Ewmila "broke up". So, what could have happened between their supposed happy romantic trip to Italy, and the 20th? Absolutely nothing...with Ewmila. They were nothing to each other. Camila just wanted that motherfucker out of her life.

On May 24, we got the post saying, "the calm before the storm, with the 6 tornado emoji's. 4 days, after that very sad looking pic, she warned us this shitshow was coming.

On May 27, we got the pics of Camila and Canada eating outside, and the first media hits, asking "are they dating". Publicist planted that shit. May 30, FYA was released. June 8, Camila went to perform on stage with Alejandro Sanz, with no con artist in sight. June 18, she went to have her little chat at Cannes. She posted a pic, with the caption, "looks put together on the outside, but a mess on the inside". (or something close to it) That's also the day we got the first teasers of Senorita. The song and video was released on the 21st. Nothing but PR bullshit after that.

That's the time line, of how all this shit went down. That sad emotional pic, on the 20th, was a genuine sadness. She was an emotional mess, and NOT because of a "break-up". I think, that is the day, she gave in to the pressure, and made the decision to do the PR with Canada.

She wanted out of that PR shitshow with dickhead. The Label could have kept it going, as long as the dickhead agreed to keep it going, and why wouldn't he. It was getting him the attention he wanted. He didn't give a shit, it was causing her anxiety and emotional distress. (Matthew Hussey is a NARCISSISTIC PRICK, that's all about himself. The Label didn't give a shit, either. They just wanted their artist to do what they wanted her to do. IN MY OPINION!!!)

It really doesn't take that long to record and master a single. By the time they were seen eating together, on the 27th, they had probably already recorded the song, and were discussing the visuals for the video. They filmed it the first week of June or so.

I'm pretty sure, in my thoughts, that Camila only agreed to do this shit, if it was the song of her choice, the video visuals of her choice, and her team doing it. The song she chose, was HER song, Señorita. It wasn't difficult to figure out who that song was about. That's why Epic wouldn't allow her to release it, on her own. But, in a duet with Canada, they were fine with it.

This was all decided on, and done very quickly. That's how they were able to keep it a "secret". From agreement to roll out, it was all done in a months time.

So yeah, that's how I came to my conclusion, that Canada actually "helped" her get out of her PR shitshow with the Con man. How it was her song that was chosen. Her Label was pressuring her, to do this PR stunt with Canada, since 2018. Island and Epic, both wanted it. The song was just the pathway to get the PR started.

Camila is getting shit on, for something BOTH sides were pressuring and down right manipulating/coercing her to do. SHE DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT!!! Canada didn't really want to do it, either. But he's so damn scared of getting publicly outed, and it ruining his career, that he was willing to do anything to keep that from happening.

The only BAD GUYS, in all this shit, is Epic, Island, Andrew, and Roger. THEY are the ones so hell bent on keeping their clients "straight", and making a shit load of money off them, while they are being locked in their glass closet.

Roger should have put his foot down, and told Epic to make the public announcement, of the "split" back in May. Hell, he should have "leaked" the shit himself, on the 20th, when Camila posted that pic, if nothing else. That's why I place blame on him, for the way Camila is being portrayed by others.

The Sun, had the information for a while. They were told to sit on that information, until Epic was ready for the public announcement to be made. That's why the report started with, "I can reveal ...". Not, "this just in", or "Sources have confirmed", but "I can reveal".

The definition of reveal, for those who aren't sure...reveal: make (previously unknown or secret information) known to others....Yep, they sat on the info, until they were told to "reveal" it.

Agree or not, believe or not, that's my take on all this shit. This is how my mind connected all the fucked up dots.

[forgottenpasta]

Wednesday

Summary: Each day of the week was reserved for one member: Jimin on Mondays, Namjoon on Tuesdays, Hoseok on Wednesdays, Seokjin on Thursdays, Taehyung on Fridays, Jeongguk on Saturdays and Yoongi on Sundays. Juggling a relationship with seven boys was difficult on its own. Add to that your insecurities, your mother’s disapproval and Hoseok forgetting your anniversary and you had the makings of the worst Wednesday ever. (...Or the best Wednesday ever?)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader, Ot7 x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Oral (female receiving), Rimming, Creampie Rough Sex, Public Sex, Fingering, Orgasm Denial

Word Count: 12.2k

A/N: Enjoy! :)

“Where is it?”, you muttered, throwing open your closet to scan the contents of your scarf drawer. After a short second you slammed it close with a curse.

Your favourite green scarf with pretty red lace tulips sewn in on the edges was nowhere to be found. You’d checked the laundry and every inch of your living space with no luck. Pouting at the thought of losing the precious gift Jimin had given you after returning from the European leg of their tour, you slumped on your bed. Snatching your phone from where it had been charging on the bedside table, you dialled Hoseok’s number, not giving a mind to the loud clack as the charger’s adapter pulled free of the socket and fell on the floor, the wire still connected to the phone at your ear.

There were two reasons for your foul mood this lovely Wednesday morning. One was the scarf, and the other…

Hoseok hadn’t called like he did every Wednesday morning to confirm he wasn’t busy and that he’d be spending the night with you. But that wasn’t all. Today was special for the two of you. Just the two of you. And despite your myriad hints leading up to this day, Hoseok hadn’t shown even the slightest proof that he remembered. 

He hadn’t called you and now he wasn’t picking up his phone. 

With a frustrated sigh, you dialled Jin instead. He answered on the third ring.

“Babygirl.” 

A content smile flitted on your face at the eldest’s soft endearment of a greeting, temporarily easing the unknown frustration you’d been feeling the last few days. 

“Good morning Jin.” His name was a sigh on your lips, and you knew he’d be able to pick up on your current temperament from just that. Out of all of them, Jin was the most attuned to your emotions, often the one you sought out when you were feeling down or moody or if you just needed someone to cuddle away all your worries. No wonder he was the one you’d automatically called. 

Sure enough, he sounded more alert when he asked, “What’s wrong, __?” 

“I can’t find my favourite green scarf.”, you whined. You sounded like a petulant three year old complaining to her mother, but you knew Jin would never make fun of you.

An amused snicker sounded down the line. “Aww, did babygirl lose her blankie?”

You scowled at your iPhone, then slapped it back against your ear. “Seokjin, you traitor. You’ve been hanging out with Taehyung too much.”

“What can I say,” You heard the sound of a door closing, likely Jin coming out of his room. “He’s been unusually generous lately. Been paying for all our food, insists on it even.”

“He’s upto something.”, you said without a second thought. 

“Oh I’m sure. Likely wants in on the rap line now that he’s secured a spot on the dance one. That boy won’t rest till he’s had a cypher of his own.” Jin yawned and you heard the distinct sound of the fridge opening. “Just last week I saw him disappear into Yoongi’s studio for hours. Just to come out with an intense look of determination on his face. Like he was about to go to war. I was scared.”

You chuckled, a sudden urge came over you to kiss Taehyung breathless, till he could no longer conjure up all kinds of schemes in that adorable head of his. More and more often, similar surges of emotion regarding the guys would pop up in your brain when you were away from them. 

If a sweet love song played at the cafe you worked at, you started craving Jeongguk’s soft, whispered singing in your ear. If you read a particularly interesting book, you immediately wanted to discuss it with Namjoon. You shivered every time you passed a sex shop on the streets, remembering Jimin’s expert hands binding you with his silken ropes till you quivered with anticipation. Jin’s affectionate gestures were always at the back of your mind when you saw a couple on the streets or a lifetime movie with too much romance and not enough plot. And even the most random things reminded you of Yoongi. A cat cuddled into a ball outside your window, an oversized black hoodie on someone, the smell of brewed chocolate (his favourite drink ever since you’d rendered all his recording equipment unusable by pouring a cup of it over them). 

And Hoseok. He was the start of it all, the member you had met even before you knew seven boys were going to crash into your boring, monotonous life and turn it upside down. The first person you had fell in love with. The one who had introduced you to the rest of them. 

The one who was supposed to be your one and only boyfriend. 

Till you’d come to the horrifying realisation that you felt more than just platonic affection for the six other boys who’d come attached with him like a buy one get six free package deal.

Jin’s voice snipped that train of thought in the bud. “I can tell you’re not listening to me, babygirl. I’d feel offended but thankfully the size of my ego is directly proportionate to my handsomeness.”

You rolled your eyes, too used to his boasting. “Can you ask Namjoon if he saw the scarf? He was here last night when I was wearing it.”

Jin huffed and you heard him moving through the dorm again. “You only call me when you need something, __. I’m sure I don’t like it.”

You grinned. “What happened to your invincible ego? Besides, I distinctly recall you getting off to my moans when I called you last Thursday, just for you to turn it into phone sex—”

“I was 587 miles away from you, woman! We had a show the next day, I couldn’t just book a flight from Narita to Incheon just to spend a few hours with you like last time.” Jin groaned. “I needed you so bad and my hand was a piss poor replacement.”

Your heart was melting into a sympathetic puddle. But before you could reply to his impassioned declaration Jin started laughing. 

“Yo, what the fuck!”, he managed in between guffaws. 

Perking up , you asked, “What is it?”

“What did you do to poor Namjoon last night?” You heard a little shuffling, then a groggy voice groaned in the background. “He’s out cold on the couch, muttering in his sleep. Here listen.”

“…mmhfh y/n-ah, juft one mor paghe n weh cann fuk…hmf…”

“Oh my god!” You giggled, not being able to understand the sounds coming out of his mouth anymore. Jin must have brought the phone close to his mouth. 

“What did you do to him?!”

In between suppressed laughter, you managed to explain, “He wanted to have sex so bad last night but I had a ton of classwork, so he helped me complete it, hoping it would get done faster and he’ll get some. But he fell asleep on my desk writing an essay on Turko-Mongol war strategy and weaponry.”

“You and your essays on dead people.”, Jin teased, still chuckling. The boys were well aware of your love for history and literature, even indulged your interests by buying you all kinds of first editions of rare books and published articles. During your Medieval era European poets phase, Yoongi had bought you some early 16th century illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy. They were so priceless that you’d cried at the sight of them. When you’d haltingly asked where and how he got them when even reputed museums had difficulty finding early Dante illustrations, Yoongi had evaded your question like the plague. To this day you suspected he had some very high connections in the black market.

“Oh and by the way”, Jin said offhandedly. “I think he’s drooling on your scarf.”

Mirth disappeared and your eyes went round. “What?!” Then you remembered you’d wrapped it around his neck early this morning while you were still half asleep, hoping he wouldn’t catch a cold on his way to the dorm. “Aagh, get it away from him!”

The doorbell went off just then, surprising you. You weren’t expecting anyone.

“Umm Jin, I’ll call you later,” you told him, getting up from your bed. “Save my scarf please. That’s the only gift I have from Jimin that isn’t a sex toy. And also, ask Hoseok to call me please.”

 “Sure.”, he reassured. “Are you coming to our photoshoot today? I know you don’t have any classes scheduled.”

“Miss a chance of seeing you guys all dolled up and posing sexily? Hell no.”

Jin laughed. “I love you, you pervert. Bye.”

“Mmhm, I love me too.” You hung up, knowing full well that Jin would be rolling his eyes at your antics.

“I’m coming!”, you shouted as the bell went off again, striding out of your bedroom and towards the front door. The smiling face of your mother was the last thing you were expecting to see when you opened it.

“Mom!” You hugged her automatically. “What are you doing here?”

She patted your back, dropping a kiss on the side of your head. Her ever youthful face coming into your view as she pulled back. “I was in Seoul to attend a soiree some of my friends were hosting. I couldn’t leave without meeting you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”, you said cheerfully, ushering her in and closing the door. “Let’s talk in the kitchen. I’ll make some tea for you.”

She followed you into the kitchen, seating herself on one of the breakfast barstools as you set about making her a hot cup of her preferred beverage. “Thank you, dear. I really appreciate that you keep tea in your kitchen for when I visit, even though you don’t drink it.”

“Oh, umm, it’s nothing mom.” You stared at the water filling the kettle intently, not having the heart to tell her that you also kept it for when Taehyung stayed over. He didn’t like the taste of coffee.

Your mother knew about your relationship with the seven boys. Your father didn’t. After those first few weeks of being with them, you’d taken the risk of telling her because you had no one to talk about such a big change happening in your life. You couldn’t tell any of your college friends because technically Bangtan were not supposed to be dating anyone, let alone all seven of them dating one, lest their fangirls (and boys) get mad. You couldn’t risk outing them. The only one you hundred percent trusted to keep a secret was your mom. So you had told her. And as expected she’d kept your secret even from your father. 

 But that did not mean she approved or supported seven men being with her one daughter. 

“Hows college going, sweetheart?”, she asked, watching you put in a tablespoon of sugar in her tea, just as she liked. 

“It’s going good.” You paused. That was a lie. “Actually I barely get time to complete my class projects. It’s kinda hectic.”

“__, please tell me you finally broke it off with those boys.”, she blurted out as soon as you poured her a cup. 

There it was. Of course she would assume you didn’t get time because your boyfriends took up all of it.

Rubbing sluggishly at your eyes, you sighed. Your mother was never one to beat around the bush.

“Mom, I love them.” You looked up into her eyes so she could see how sincere you were. “I’m not going to end it with them.”

She took a cautious sip from her cup, a contemplative expression coming over her face. You braced yourself. When your mother got thoughtful, it meant she was about to drop some serious truth bombs and painful facts that you were likely not going to like or want to hear. 

“So, are you waiting for them to end it with you?” She raised a brow, phrasing her question like she was genuinely curious. You knew better. 

“ You’re a very intelligent girl, dear. Do you seriously see such an arrangement lasting?” Her mouth twisted at the word “arrangement”, like it tasted foul.

Gazing at the ceiling, you prayed for her understanding, even though a part of you understood her reservations and that she was only looking after you. 

“You don’t know them like I do, mom. They love me too. Very much so.” Your voice came out strained, ruining the conviction you’d wanted to infuse it with.

“I don’t doubt that. Look at me, __.”, she ordered softly.

You did and she offered you a tentative smile. “I don’t doubt that at all. You deserve all the love in the world and more. But a little pragmatism goes a long way, __. How is it possible that seven men keep themselves limited to one girl only?”

She took your hand that was fisted on top of the counter, slowly prying the tensed muscles open till you gave her your palm and she kissed the middle of it. “I don’t want you to get hurt, y/n. And you’re only setting yourself up for a seven times bigger fallout if you keep this thing up. Men are notoriously possessive creatures, if they don’t seek out other women, they’ll likely fight amongst themselves for you.”

Shaking your head, you took your hand out of her grasp. “No, mom. They’re very close, like brothers. They do get jealous when other men hit on me but never each other.” 

Your mother sighed, frustration creeping up on her face. Her tone hardened as she said, “Then they would not hesitate to kick you to the curb if you threaten their unity even the slightest bit. I did not want to do this but you have to stop being so naïve, __. Haven’t you thought about why they agreed to this thing with you so easily?”

You almost said because they liked you so much, but you knew that wasn’t the answer your mother had in mind. “I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”

She leaned forward with a scowl. “Because it’s convenient. They’re insanely popular right now. Everywhere they go they’ve got eyes on them. Even your recluse of a father, who only concerns himself with politics and sports knows their songs. It’s easier for them to keep and share one woman then deal with seven.”

The kitchen was deathly silent save for the blood rushing in your ears. You did not want to hear this. You did not want some half baked ideas your mom had raise doubts in your mind about the boys. 

Forcing back the tears that threatened, you softly murmured, “Mom, please.” 

But she wasn’t done. “You drop everything to go to them. You keep yourself available 24/7. At their beck and call seven days a week.”

“It’s not like that.”, you exclaimed. “They support me just as much, if not more. They never ask for more than I’m comfortable giving.”

“That’s the problem, y/n.”, your mother snapped. “You’re willing to give too much of yourself. Better reel yourself in before you find yourself utterly vulnerable and exposed, with no one to lean on.”

“What does that mean?”, you asked, just as harshly.

“It means…”, she paused, as if debating wether to continue or not, before shaking her head. “I’m telling you to be ready for the time when they find partners of their own.”

Aggravated at her continued belabouring, you threw up your hands. “I’ve told you they aren’t interested in other girls—”

“Yet.” She cut you off. “Or maybe who knows, they might just be keeping company of others behind your back. Though you’re smart you’ve never been very observant.”

“Mom!”, you almost shouted, horrified at what she was insinuating. Even the thought of them going behind your back like that was unbearably painful. But you trusted them, so this whole conversation was unnecessary. “You’re just saying that because you haven’t met them. Once you’ll get to know what kind of people they really are, you wouldn’t say such things.”

She sneered, clearly put off by even the idea of meeting them. Then she delivered the final blow. “That’s not gonna happen, Y/n. The day you bring home seven men at once, your father will have a heart attack. And I’m not ever going to be interested in meeting the men who treat my daughter like a communal shower.”

“Mom.”, you breathed, pinching the bridge of your nose for patience and to quell the tears that were waiting to burst free. You couldn’t believe she actually said that. “I think you should leave.”

 “I think so too.” You heard her get up from the barstool, opening your eyes to gaze unseeingly at her half empty cup on the counter. 

The sound of her retreating footsteps stopped at the entryway. “I’m your mother, __. I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you. Remember that.” 

And with that parting reminder, she left. As soon as the door closed behind her, your tears fell like a dam burst free, crumbling all your emotional defences along with it. Slowly, and not-so-gracefully you crumbled to the kitchen floor yourself, your butt hitting the cool tiles as you buried your face in your knees, wrapping your arms around them to make a rolled up, human ball of woe. 

When initially you’d told your mother about the boys almost half an year ago she’d been disbelieving at first. Later, when she’d finally accepted you were not joking, she’d told you that you would get tired of “this new polyamory fad” soon, not being able to handle dealing with so many people in your love life at once. You guessed that after almost a year of you dating Bangtan, she’d finally come around to the fact that this wasn’t just a phase in her daughter’s life. Today was the first time she’d gotten so vocal about her disapproval though. Usually it was just snide remarks, invasive questions or straight up ignoring that you were even dating someone. You knew that keeping such a big thing from your dad because of the promise you’d extracted from her also weighed on her conscience.  

The chill seeped from the cold tiles to your whole body and you shivered as you wiped your tears, frowning when more rushed to replace them. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t asked all those questions your mother had raised yourself. Trepidation had racked you when you’d first ventured into such a daring commitment with them. Will you alone be able to satisfy them? How would you divide your time amongst seven men? What if they got bored with you, or worse, jealous of each other? Would they seek out someone else?

But slowly and surely, the boys had shown you that trust and loyalty, though hard earned, were bonds that survived the treacherous potholes of navigating a polyamorous relationship. You trusted them, you were loyal to them. They trusted you, they were loyal to you. 

Or were they?

Shaking your head, you got up off the floor with a huff, stalking to your bedroom with an irritated gait. This is why you did not want to talk to your mother. You were only human. The seeds of doubt once sown, germinated into assumptions and suspicion you absolutely loathed. Mainly, because you were self aware enough to realise that they had no real substance to them, they only reflected your own secret fears back at you. But again, you were only human and no matter how much you tried to shake off the encounter with your mom, your mood soured further when your overactive imagination supplied images of the boys with other women. 

And your age old enemy, insecurity, reared its ugly head. Taehyung was an ass man, maybe he’d like to be with someone with a bigger butt. Were you even intelligent enough for Namjoon? Jin would suit a more wholesome woman who knew how to cook something other than ramen. Yoongi liked breasts, maybe someone with a perkier pair. You could not sing to save your life, so why did Jeongguk like you when all his female celebrity crushes had killer pipes? Jimin used to train submissives before you came into his life, did he think about those happier times? 

Did Hoseok resent having to share you with his members when you’d pledged to love him and only him? 

You were angrily yanking open your closet to look for something to wear to their photoshoot when your phone flashed from where you’d thrown it on the bed before your mom had officially ruined your day. 

Peeking a look at it, you wondered if you should have read your horoscope. Because the day was far from over.

Hobi: Few high school friends invited me for drinks tonight. Rain check?

~.~.~

Exactly one year ago ~

The bookstore became eerily quite after 10 pm. Only a few last minute stragglers sometimes showed up to look for some obscure book they obviously couldn’t find anywhere else. 

You loved being with your lonesome self behind the cash register. Usually with a book in your hands, reading up on all kinds of historical fiction, medieval fantasies, long forgotten poems of equally unknown poets and of course the occasional bodice ripper. 

Which was what you were doing when the bell above the entrance chimed, indicating someone was indeed, on the prowl for some late night book hunting. You didn’t look up from the raunchy text in your lap as a dark figure passed by, clearly no more interested in exchanging pleasantries than you were. With a shrug you went back to focus on the guilty pleasure of a novel you’d picked for yourself tonight. A courtesan heroine during renaissance Italy who entertained patrons from not only the newly emerging Humanist circles but also the corrupt members of the clergy? Oh yes please. 

But when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw the newcomer heading for the comic book section you grew intrigued. Late night hunting for…comic books? 

Close proximity to the Seoul National University meant that the bookstore you worked at housed mostly academic readings. And as such the people who came here were also mostly students who wished to buy a copy of the expensive publishings they could otherwise also find in a library. That alone meant that the bookstore was never buzzing with customers. Let alone ones who were looking for some flashy illustrations and superhero escapism. The comic books you had on offer usually just collected dust. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you abandoned your heroine in midst of a wanton tryst with a nobleman to observe the anomaly currently browsing the comics on display. 

He had on a long black trench coat, leather pants encasing the muscular legs below and Dr. Martens on his feet. His hair was covered with a black cap and from what you could see, a mask of the same colour stretched across his face. It wasn’t unusual to see people with their face fully covered, so you didn’t think much of his all black ensemble. Though he would blend in perfectly outside at night, under the store’s bright lights he stuck out like a bat during the day. 

Maybe he’s a fan of batman. 

When he’d chosen his pick he turned around, making you duck your head down quickly. The light chuckle that reached your ears meant that you weren’t fast enough and he’d caught you checking him out. You flushed red. 

“Can I get these gift wrapped please?” 

Two comic books landed on the counter in front of you, the sound accompanying the husky lilt of the man’s voice. 

Left with no choice but to interact with him, you softly replied, “Of course.” Strangely, your heart beat spiked as you reached forward to pick the thin, glossy books up. He’d placed his hands on the wood counter, palms down, his sleeves pushed up a little. For a second you stared at his long fingers, a ridged vein stretching from the knuckles to the back of his right hand, forking out on his bare forearm before disappearing under his clothing like a purplish blue tattoo. 

As if on cue, he started drumming his fingers, snapping you into action as you quickly scanned his purchase. 

“That’ll be 15,430 won.” Opening a cabinet to pull out a selection of wrapping papers, you deliberately took your time to avoid meeting his eyes. What was going on with you? You couldn’t even see his face properly but you were acting like a teenager with her first crush. You decided it was time to stop reading romantic fantasies. 

Clearing your throat you presented the options to him with a flourish, this time looking him straight in the eyes. “Which one would you like?”

He gave a cursory glance to the colourful sheets before glancing back at you with a quirked brow. Was he laughing at your flustered form? You couldn’t tell what with the mask, but there was definitely mirth dancing in his eyes.  

A shrug. “Whichever. I really don’t care.”

“Fine”, you huffed, really not appreciating being the source of his amusement. You chose a blue paper with green stripes, placing the comics in the middle. 

“I like that one.”, he commented graciously. And you were just about to reply when he continued cheekily, “I also like your choice in books.” 

Your hands froze, eyes darting to the unfinished

novel you’d placed face up on the table. The salacious cover showed a woman in medieval garb, her mouth half open in a silent moan as a blonde man wearing a billowy white shirt kissed her bare shoulder, the open neck of her gown threatening to expose her breasts. 

In a flash you flipped the book, cover side down, opening a drawer to hastily throw it inside. Slamming it closed, you glared at the man who was now outright laughing at you. 

“Don’t be embarrassed.”, he cajoled in a tone that suggested you should, in fact, be embarrassed. “Everyone’s gotta live vicariously somehow.”

Was he suggesting you read erotic books because you didn’t get laid in real life? 

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that why you’re reading children’s books?” You indicated the My Little Pony picture book and the Superman comic he’d picked up. “I must say you’ve got varied tastes.”

“Hey now.” He held up his hands. “Those are for my niece and nephew. They’re twins and it’s their birthday today.”

“Maybe that’s what you say whenever you’ve got to stock up on the latest My Little Pony issue. Have them gift wrapped so no one suspects.” Now you were just pushing it, but the burn of embarrassment still irked.  

He was grinning behind his mask. “No that one’s for my nephew. He likes ponies.”

You gaped at him. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

You held up the Superman issue. “And I’m guessing your niece likes superheroes?”

“Only the ones who can fly.” He shrugged. “According to her Batman is an imposter with no real powers.”

“Radical.”, you said in amazement.

“Look I didn’t mean to upset you.” His hand on the counter moved to cover yours. A shock of awareness jolted through your spine, making you sit up straighter. By the way he swallowed, he wasn’t unaffected either. But he didn’t let go of your hand, clutched it tighter actually. “I’m sorry if I was rude.”

“I, umm.”, you stuttered, not being able to look away from his sincere gaze. What were you upset about again? Yeah, the living vicariously comment. “It’s alright. Though I’ll have you know, I get plenty of action.”

No you didn’t get plenty of action. And you did not just say that.

At least you’d managed to shock him out of his sauve demeanour. “I’m…sure you do.” He cleared his throat, squeezing your hand. “I wasn’t insinuating anything. I read smut too, you know.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “You don’t.” 

“I don’t.” He grinned again. “Just trying to make you feel better.”

“Hey!” You snatched back your hand, scowling at him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”, he breathed in between laughter. “You’re just too easy to rile up.”

“Ha ha.”, you mocked. “Are you living vicariously through me then? Not enough comedy in your life, huh?” 

He straightened then, his amusement disappearing. “Maybe.”

Reaching for the hand you’d pulled out of his grip, he brought it closer to him. Wrapping both his hands around yours, he made sure you were looking into his eyes when he said, “Maybe you’re exactly what I need in my life.”

Your breath hitched at that. “I don’t even know your name.”

His eyes crinkled at that. He was smiling behind his mask again. At that moment, you wanted to see his face more than anything in the world. 

One hand let go of yours to point at the large S on Superman’s chest on the comic’s cover. 

You frowned in confusion. “Your name is…S?”

“No silly. That’s not an S, that’s the Kryptonian symbol for hope.”

~.~.~

Present Day~

Your tears had dried by the time you left your house to head for the Bighit building. The occasional sniffle still persisted though, and you hoped you looked put together enough for the boys to not suspect anything. 

The talk with your mother was not entirely responsible for your persisting melancholy. You’d been reminiscing your first meeting with Hoseok ever since his text came in. Something about it being the first anniversary of when he’d come into your quaint little bookshop, all masked up in disguise and asked you out, after thoroughly embarrassing you that is. You hadn’t gotten to see his face on the first date either, or the second or the third. When he’d asked you why you still went on multiple dates with him when he didn’t allow you to see his face (which also meant he didn’t kiss you), you’d joked about having a taste for wanted fugitives. 

But the truth was that you’d fallen in love with him even before you really knew who he was. He made you laugh, made your heart flutter when he’d wrap you up in his arms, he wasn’t afraid to push your boundaries when it came to getting to know you. By the time the fifth date had rolled around he knew everything about you and you still knew nothing about him, except for the fact that he had some sinful moves, which you’d gotten to know when he’d gave you a fully clothed lap dance on your birthday. You’d fallen for his mannerisms. He’d pull out your chair, open doors for you, give you his jacket. He was different than all the guys you’d previously dated, he never once tried to get into your pants, the most you’d gotten was a quick brush of his lips across your forehead before he’d quickly slide his mask back in place.  

You were the one who’d grown frustrated at him taking it so slow. He’d only chuckle lightly and divert your hand to safety whenever you tried to grope him, all your amateur attempts at seduction thwarted when he’d cage you in his arms instead or pull your attention elsewhere. 

The day you’d gotten to see his face was also the day he introduced you to the rest of the boys. When he’d invited you over to his place for the first time you were ecstatic. Finally having his trust was a big deal to you. By now you’d realised he must be someone important (or dangerous) for him to hide his identity for so long, but you’d never pushed him to reveal himself. You’d thought he’d finally realised how serious you were about him. 

Oh, he’d realised it alright. When he’d opened the dorm door for you, the first thing he’d done was kiss your mouth senseless, even before you’d registered who it was you were looking at. When he’d pulled back after ravishing your mouth, you’d gaped at him in shock, both at his hungry mauling and the fact that  you were looking at, well, him. A world famous artist. Who’d just kissed you like his life depended on it. 

His words then were still etched into your brain. He’d smiled wide and you remember thinking it was the most beautiful sight ever. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dying to kiss you, __.” 

You clutched your coat around you tighter as you took the familiar route to your boyfriends’ workplace. A wistful smile graced your lips when you remembered how the rest of the boys had embraced you into their group seamlessly, like you were always meant to be right by their side. Your friendship with them had started out innocent enough, but they had always been very handsy when it came to you. You hadn’t minded and neither did Hoseok, when one of them asked you for a massage or laid their head in your lap or if the competitive younger ones tickled you ceaselessly when you’d beat them at a game. You’d developed a rapport with Namjoon and Yoongi, you enjoyed listening to them whenever they had something to say and you were flattered when they took your opinions and suggestions seriously. 

Slowly and surely they’d trusted you with all their secrets, allowing you into their private life as you and Hoseok’s relationship had deepened. So it really came as shock to you when one day you’d snapped at Namjoon when he’d come to you asking advice regarding the girl he’d been dating. It hadn’t been your finest moment and for a while it had mired your bond with the boys in confusion and uncertainty. Especially when Namjoon had broken up with the girl the very next day. 

The real shocker came when Jeongguk kissed you full on the mouth in the presence of Hoseok. And your boyfriend did not seem to mind at all! Gradually the boys’ handsiness had grown into full-blown PDA. They kissed you, pulled you into their lap during movie nights, back hugs became commonplace. Taehyung even loved to warm his hands against your bare waist, sneaking them inside your shirts whenever he could. Before your moral compass went haywire with guilt you had sat all of them down and talked about the nature of your relationship. 

Communication was always key. Hoseok had initially been unsure of the mere idea of sharing you but you’d assured him that you would never go ahead with it if he wasn’t onboard. But the fact was, you’d fallen in love with the rest of the boys too. And he could see that as well. 

You still wonder sometimes, if he’d said yes only because he risked losing you otherwise. You wouldn’t have been able to handle secretly pining for the other boys if he’d said no. 

As you displayed your id to the guard at front, you wondered if he’d really forgotten that today was your anniversary. It seemed like it.  Why would he accept an invitation to go out tonight of all nights if he didn’t? Should you remind him? Or maybe it just wasn’t as big of a deal as you were making it out to be. 

You didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that today was a shit day. And with that thought, you entered the spacious conference room converted into a studio for the photoshoot. Namjoon had told you that it was for this years season’s greetings. 

From the soft mood lightings against the panel of wall to wall windows spanning one side of the room and the light coloured casual clothing that hung from the racks pushed to the corners, you deduced that they were going for a soft, boyfriend look this time. 

You snorted. How ironic they’d sell such a concept to their fans when all seven of them were taken at the same time. By the same person. 

The familiar faces of the co-ordis greeted you as you moved in, and you murmured a soft good morning to them. “Where are they?”, you asked, looking around.

Solji, one of the older stylists, answered you with a smile. “You’re a little early. They’ll be here soon.”

“Great. I’ll set up somewhere out of your way then.” You returned her smile, she was your favourite out of all the staff, always friendly and understanding. 

Speaking of the staff, your eyes caught a new face flitting among the familiar ones when you scanned the room for a place to sit. You nudged Solji. “Is she new?”, you asked, flicking your chin towards the blonde girl assisting the hairstylist in pulling out all kinds of products from a bag.

Solji nodded. “Miso. She’s a temp. We fell short on hands when Hyoyeon took her maternity leave. Most likely will become permanent if she’s good.”

You frowned. “Does she know about me?”

The staff were well informed about your relationship with Bangtan, the Non Disclosure Agreement they signed when they were hired prevented them from going to the media with any kind of private details about the boys, lest they be sued for their weight in gold. But it always caused you anxiety when a new staff member got to know about you. More so when they got to know you were dating all of them. 

“Yes. I informed her myself. She was surprised, to say the least.”

“Everyone is.” Your mom’s sneer came to mind suddenly, but you pushed it away. Patting Solji’s arm, you said, “Time for me to catch up on my studies I guess.”

Spying a small love seat in one corner of the big room you headed towards it. Picking up the empty make up containers strewn over it, you placed them carefully on the carpeted floor instead. Perching yourself on the seat, you pulled open your handbag, pulling out your laptop and the textbook you and Namjoon had been pouring over last night. 

This is what you did when they asked you over on a photoshoot, or vocal practice or dress fittings. Watching them from a corner while trying to get some work done. But mostly just gazing at them go about their way from your front row perch, hearts in your eyes. 

You’d only just begun reading when the sound of their laughter reached your ears. Looking up eagerly, you promptly forgot your work. Yoongi was already headed towards you, looking downright sinful in a white Supreme hoodie, jeans and converse. Did he even need to change? This was boyfriend look right here. 

“My little bird’s already hard at work I see.” He bent to give you a heart stopping kiss, his hand cupping your nape in a proprietary gesture. “How am I gonna focus on the shoot with you looking so gorgeous today, hmm? Maybe we can convince the photographer to take your pictures instead.”

Oh, flirty Yoongi was in the house today. 

“I don’t think your fans would like that.” You bit his lip, not even trying to resist the temptation right before your eyes. 

Another deep kiss. “Their loss.”

“Hyung, Solji noona is calling you.”, a cheerful Taehyung said from behind Yoongi. 

The elder straightened up with a scowl. “Really? You’ll get a knuckle sandwich if you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”, he exclaimed, jerking a thumb behind him. “Go ask her yourself.”

As Yoongi left while muttering something under his breath, Taehyung sprawled himself on the love seat beside you. “I lied.”

You nodded. “Of course you did.”

The shout of “Tae you motherfucker!” could be heard as the subject of the loud curse brushed some stray hair behind your ears, an unbothered boxy smile directed at you as he asked, “So __, I heard Hobi hyung won’t be spending the night with you. This must come as a shock because I’m a busy man,” he polished his nails on the lapels of the Gucci coat he had on, before inspecting them like they were the singular most interesting thing, “but did you know I’m completely free tonight?”

You smiled at his attempt at nonchalance but your heart ached at the reminder. Looking towards Hoseok, you found him and the boys surrounded by the styling team. When Hoseok caught you looking, he grinned wide, moving to make his way to you. 

A small hand on his shoulder stopped him in his path. The new temp Miso held up a shirt to his torso, looking up at him with a smile as she said something you couldn’t quite hear. You saw Hoseok nod and reply to her, all plans of coming to you forgotten. 

“Is there trouble in paradise?”, Taehyung guessed, looking at his hyung then at you then back to his hyung like a ping pong ball. 

Halting his swivelling head by placing a palm on his cheek, you pouted, “Tae, do you know what today is?”

A scared look came over his face. “Oh shit, did I forget your birthday or something?”

You scowled. “No. It’s me and Hoseok’s one year anniversary. It’s the day I first met him. And he doesn’t remember.”

“Oh.” Then a strange look came over his face, somewhere between constipation and indigestion. He was hiding something. “Oh.”

“What are you ohing about?”, you asked curtly, your curiosity growing. “And why are you making that face?”

“What face?”, he squeaked, getting up from the chair in a flash. “Oh looky there, Solji noona is calling me.”

“Wait!” But he was already hightailing it out of there. “Tae you motherf—ugh!”

For the next hour you watched them from your corner seat as they went through multiple outfit changes and all different kinds of poses against the strategically placed props near the windows. The soft sunlight filtering in provided a natural lighting and their beautiful features seemed to glow from within because of the luminescent makeup they wore. All in all it was a mesmerising affair, they looked like angels. 

And throughout it all instead of focusing on getting some work done your gaze slipped to Hoseok again and again. All of the boys had come to sit beside you at one point or the other, except him. But it wasn’t for lack of trying. 

The pencil in your grip almost snapped to half when you saw the new hire, Miso, bend down to whisper something in his ear as she messed with his already perfect hair. One of her hands landed on his shoulder and you could swear she was caressing him. 

For his part, he rested his head on the back of the chair, eyes closed and barely giving her one word answers. But that did nothing to quell the embers of jealousy burning inside you. Solji had said that the new girl knew about you. You did not want to interfere in their work but if she continued feeling up your boyfriend...

You almost catapulted out of your chair when you saw her brush her ample chest against his arm whilst pretending to pick something up from the floor. 

But luckily Namjoon made his way to you at the same time, saving you from smacking a bitch into next week. 

“I’m sorry about your scarf, doll. I put it in the laundry for you.” He smiled, cheeks dimpling deeply, as if he expected a pat on the back for managing such a feat.

Reluctantly you looked away from Hoseok and the snake coiling herself around him, giving Joon a half hearted smile. “Thank you, baby.”

The dimples disappeared. “Is something wrong?”

The sincere worry in his eyes was all it took for your composure to shatter. The past few days, your mother’s visit,  Hoseok’s forgetfulness, your own insecurities and now the bitch a few feet away from you. 

With a pathetic whine you launched yourself into the leader’s lap, situating yourself between his thighs and wrapping your arms around him. Your face fit perfectly in the space between his shoulder and neck. You didn’t care if you were ruining his carefully put together outfit or the fact that you were in a room full of people. 

Thankfully Namjoon didn’t care either, he immediately pulled you close, bending down to kiss your nose affectionately. 

“Doll?”, was all he said in his soft, deep, ever understanding voice and everything you’d been bottling up came hurtling out in a hiccupy word vomit. By the time you were finished tears were running down your face and you turned to hide into his chest so nobody else could see you breaking down. 

“Aah your mother is wrong, so so wrong. You’re our centre, the best thing that ever happened to us.” Sighing, he rubbed your back. “But I understand where she’s coming from. If it were my daughter I’d be sceptical too. We’ll just have to convince her that we love you more than anything in the world.”

“She doesn’t want to meet you guys.”, you murmured against his chest, wiping your nose on his expensive designer shirt. 

He didn’t seem to mind, brushing away your tears with his shirt sleeve himself. Solji was going to kill you both. 

“I’m sure we can change her mind.” Namjoon nudged your chin up till he was gazing into your eyes. “As for Hoseok, don’t you dare doubt his love for you. He worships the ground you walk on.”

“Is that why he forgot our anniversary?”

Namjoon evaded your eyes. “Doll...”

“And why isn’t he pushing away that new temp?”

“Huh?” Confused, he looked up in the direction of the man in question. 

“Forget it. Do I even have any right to be jealous when it comes to you guys?”, you questioned softly to yourself. Something you’d been wondering about for a while. “I mean there’s one of me and seven of you. You don’t get jealous when I’m with Jimin or Yoongi. Why should I be jealous if you guys show interest in other girls, right?”

That snapped his attention back to you, and what you saw in his eyes made you shrink in on yourself. He was angry, furious even. He grabbed your jaw, made sure your eyes didn’t stray from him.

“Of the most ridiculous nonsense you could come up with, I never imagined you’d be questioning our loyalty to you.”, he said through his teeth. “Firstly, we have no fucking interest in dating another girl, get that through your thick head. Second, we don’t get jealous of each other but you very well know we can’t stand anyone else putting their hands on you. Thirdly,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “I can’t say for other guys but I love it when you get jealous.”

“What?”, you breathed.

Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you remember when I came to you asking for dating advice before you’d agreed to be with all of us? When you were only Hoseok’s girlfriend.”

“I do.” You were just reminiscing about your early days with the boys a few hours ago. 

“I didn’t really want your advice, I suspected you liked me too and I just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

You stared at him. “Is that why you broke up with the girl the next day?”

“Hehe.”, he laughed nervously. “I wasn’t dating anybody in the first place. I only wanted to be with you.”

Your jaw dropped. 

Solji’s voice cut through your intimate bubble then. “Namjoon, you’re up.”

“Time to get scolded for ruining my shirt.” He picked you up and set you on the cushions like you weighed nothing. 

“I’m sorry about that.” Glancing at the wetness that covered his front from your tears and snot, you winced. 

“I drooled on your scarf, you cried on my shirt. We’re a match made in heaven, babe.”, he said, a shit eating grin on his face. 

“You’re so cheesy.” You threw a cushion at his face. 

He flicked it away with a swat. “You’ve been sitting here for hours, you should stretch your legs. I have that SourPunk string candy you like so much in the drawer beneath my computer. Go get some.”

“Really?!” You jumped up at once. “It’s my favourite.”

“I know.” He left after giving you an indulgent smile, though you heard him mutter under his breath “it tastes like satan’s ass” before he was out of earshot. 

Ignoring him, you happily made your way out of the huge room, heading straight for Namjoon’s studio on the third floor. There was a spring in your step. Not surprisingly talking to the leader had put some sense back into you, he’d Expecto Petronumed your insecurities like they were dementors. For now at least, you were sure they’d rear their ugly head again in the future like a chronic disease. 

Striding down the hallway cheerfully, you did not expect a hand to shoot out of a door. You shrieked like a banshee when the hand clutched your arm, hauling you inside before slamming the door close. 

“What the—“, your shout was cut off by Hoseok’s hand over your mouth. 

“It’s me, __. Don’t scream.”

Narrowing your eyes, you licked his palm. 

“Aah!” He snatched it back, face scrunching. “What was that for?”

“For ignoring me all day. And scaring me just now.”

“Ignoring you?” He scoffed. “Fuck no. I don’t do childish stuff like that. I’m not Yoongi hyung.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

Hoseok’s glare turned into a confused frown when he saw your face clearly, the dim lighting not helping his vision. “Were you crying?”

Flinching, you spoke sharply, “No.”

The frown didn’t abate. “__, I swear I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“That’s not why I was crying.”

“So you were crying.” He raised his brows, daring you to deny it. His eyes softened when you looked away instead. 

“Hey baby, I’m sorry.”, he murmured in your ear, his hands finding purchase on your waist. He nudged your face toward his, nuzzling you softly. “Whatever I did I’m so sorry.”

Melting in his arms, you allowed him to pull you close. “You don’t even know what you’re apologising for.”

Placing a hand on the side of your neck, a thumb at your chin pulled your mouth open. “It doesn’t matter. I hate seeing you upset.” 

He kissed your open mouth, his tongue immediately finding yours. The taste of him made you moan, coffee and the sugar coated lemon drops he loved so much. It was a strange but delectable combination. 

As you sucked on his tongue, his hands dropped to work on the buttons of your blouse. You pulled away for a second to ask, “We’re really doing this here? Right now?”

“Not we.” Pushing your blouse and bra out of the way, he freed one breast for his hungry mouth.

“I just want to make you feel good.”, he breathed against your nipple before taking the cold, hardened bud between his warm lips. 

Head thumping back against the door, you clutched him to your chest. “Hobi, oh my god!”

Taking your sensitive nipple between his teeth, he pulled, making a jolt of arousal go straight to your core. He chuckled as a moan tore from you. “I haven’t even started and you’re already invoking god. You won’t be able to keep quiet, would you? Do you want everyone to know your boyfriend’s worshipping you?”

Pulling him up for another messy kiss, you confessed against his lips. “Yes. I want everyone to know that you belong to me.”

Something primal and unrestrained entered his eyes, and you almost regretted your words for a second. With a swiftness that defied gravity, he picked you up and strode to a nearby table. After clearing the surface with a sweep of his hand, he placed you gingerly on top. The clink and clatter of jewellery and other accessories hitting the floor echoed in the room, but you only had eyes and ears for Hoseok. 

“Be careful what you ask for, __.” 

What had you unleashed? 

He made swift work of your jeans till you were clad only in your blouse and soaking wet panties. 

“Look at that, you’ve already made a mess.” Cupping your crotch, he stroked your clothed labia slowly, smirking when you swivelled your hips for more. “How badly do you want me to eat you out, __? Tell me and I might let you have my tongue.” 

You wanted him too much to care about how desperate you sounded. “So bad. Please! I want your tongue on my pussy.” 

“What my baby wants, she gets.” He dropped to his knees between your spread legs, pushing at the back of your thighs to expose your genitals in the most lewd way possible. Pushing aside your soaked panties, he dove in with fervour like he was about to devour the most scrumptious meal ever. 

The first flick of his tongue on your clit had you gnashing your teeth and fisting his thick, soft hair. From previous experience you knew that receiving oral sex from him meant that he was going to put all your vibrators to shame. 

And sure enough, the speed of his tongue on your clit blew your mind, as did the currents of pleasure coursing through you. How he was able to move his tongue so fast, you had no fucking clue. Pausing in his expert assault, he took the already quivering bundle in his mouth to suck, simultaneously thrusting two fingers deep in your slick channel. 

“Hobi! Fuck! Umfh..” That was all you could manage till he found the soft spongy spot on your inner walls, pressing on it in tandem with his licks on your clit. Most of the sounds that came out of your mouth were incoherent shouts and half pleas. 

Hoseok’s eyes met yours over the expanse of your tummy and you could tell he was internally laughing as you dissolved into a mindless being intent on reaching your climax. “Hobi please make me cum!”

The bastard pulled his sinful mouth away from your cunt instead. “What was that?”

“Aagh!”, you yelled in frustration. “Put that tongue back on my fucking clit!”

He pouted, his cheeks glistening from your juices. “Is that any way to speak to your boyfriend?”

“Hobi.”, you cried, about to burst into frustrated tears literally. “Please!”

Grinning, he dove back down. “Now was that so hard?”

This time he pulled his fingers out of your entrance to rub slick circles on your nub instead. His mouth tasted a path down your inner labia before tonguing your clenching, empty hole. 

“Hoseok, don’t tease me.”, you begged. 

Taking mercy on you, he thrust his tongue deep inside. The fingers playing your clit like a fiddle doubled their strokes.

“Fuck yes!”, you screamed. 

His tongue inside your pussy mimicked his dick thrusting in and out, your pussy trying to grip the muscle everytime he pulled it back out. You could come just from him tongue fucking you. 

“Hoseok don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”

He stopped. Pulling away once again. 

“What?!”, you shrieaked, your orgasm slipping away from your grasp. Frustrated tears did, in fact, make their way down your cheeks this time. 

“Your pussy tastes like fucking ambrosia, __.”, he groaned, licking his lips. “But I wanna have a taste of something else too.”

Frowning, you half sobbed, half moaned, “What?”

He smirked. “Let’s see if you can come from having your ass eaten.”

The shudder that went through you at his words was overshadowed by pleasure when he licked down your pussy, giving a fluttering peck to your neglected entrance before venturing further south. Your perineum received a wet, open mouthed kiss and a nuzzle. 

“Hold your legs for me, baby.”, he commanded softly, his breath tingling both your holes. 

Snaking your arms around the back of your thighs, you pulled your legs up and away. You were nervous but excited, none of the other boys had rimmed you before. “Hobi, please hurry.”

A nip on your buttcheek made you yelp. “Don’t rush me. I’m going to enjoy this.”

Kneading your buttocks in his palms, he pulled them apart, a butterfly kiss to your asshole followed. Then he laved the puckered hole, making you gasp at the unfamiliar sensation. 

“Oh.”, you breathed. “That feels so good.”

You felt him smile. Another light kiss on your rim, then his tongue explored. Circling your asshole and probing at your forbidden entrance till you clenched at the foreign feeling with a groan. 

He tsked, clearly disapproving. “Don’t tense up, baby. Open up to me. I love this cute little hole.”

At his urging you relaxed and he began eating your hole with the same enthusiasm as he had your pussy. When his hand slid up to tease your clit once again, your arms gave from beneath you and you thumped on the table, arching your back from the insurmountable pleasure he was giving you. 

He was right. You could cum from having your asshole stimulated. The release that had slipped away earlier came hurtling back like a train wreck, with double the force. 

Stiffening his tongue, he pushed it up your anus as far as it would go. 

 “Fuck!”, you cursed at the intrusion. 

In your endorphin hazed brain, you registered a noise outside the door that sounded like Hoseok’s name. You ignored it at first, the dancer between your legs making you feel too good to care about anyone barging in. 

But then the hesitant voice grew louder. “Hoseok-ssi. It’s Miso, are you in there?”

At first sheer fury coursed through you. And then you smirked. 

“Hobi!” Your voice was so loud the man in question paused in his ministrations for a second. “Don’t stop! You eat my ass so good!”

With a shrug, he happily continued, circling your clit with his fingers just the way you liked it. 

“Oh fuck yes!” Though your volume was exaggerated, you could feel yourself get closer and closer to the precipice. 

This time you didn’t hear the squeak and the rush of footsteps disappearing outside, the blood rushing in your ears drowning out everything else. 

“Baby I’m so close.”

“Cum then. Let me see your pretty pussy cum.”, he growled, increasing the torture on the bundle of nerves he was assaulting with his fingers. 

When you came, everything went white for a second. The scream of his name was so loud, you were sure the whole building heard you climaxing. The seizure like shudders that racked you had you closing your legs and pulling away his hands because of oversensitivity.

Panting on the table, you flopped on your side to calm down. Hoseok bent over you to caress your hair. 

“Are you alright, baby? Did I overdo it?” 

Shaking your head, you got up to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “No. You are amazing. Your mouth is amazing.”

You tried to pull him down for a kiss but he turned his face away at the last second. “I just had my tongue up your ass, babe. Do you really wanna kiss me?”

“Shut up.” You gave him a deep, sloppy kiss. 

~.~.~

The crew and staff were packing up when you got back to the room after cleaning yourself up in the bathroom. So you headed straight to get your things as well. 

You found Jimin seated at the love seat, idly going through your textbook. 

You smiled at the adorable furrow of concentration between his brows. “You into history now, Chim?”

Jimin hummed, flipping the book shut before looking up at you. “No, but I heard you’re into rimming.”

Cheeks going tomato red, you stuttered, “D-did you—”

“Yeah. You were very loud.”

Groaning you buried your face in your hands. What felt like a good idea at the time, made you shrivel up in mortification now. 

Jimin got up to pull your hands away, giving you an eye smile of reassurance. “Don’t. I loved that you were so loud. I got to know that assplay is not a hard limit for you.”

You gulped. “Jimin.”

He gave you that predatory look, the one he used only in the bedroom, making you shiver. In fear or anticipation, you didn’t know. “Make sure you’re free next Monday.”

 Before you could reply, he picked up your bag, placing your book and laptop inside. “Now. Let’s get you home.”

Glancing around, you found the room almost empty. “Where’s everybody?”

Jimin took your hand, interlacing your fingers. “They’re already in the car. Let’s go.”

The driver held open the door of the Escalade when you two arrived outside. You slid in first, immediately snuggling up against Jeongguk who was seated near the other window. Jimin got in behind you.

Yoongi was up front, with Namjoon, Jin and Taehyung making up the back.

“Where’s Hoseok?”, you asked as the car pulled away from the curb. 

Jin answered you. “He was invited over for drinks remember.”

“Oh.” You remembered. But you’d forgotten to remind him of the anniversary, too preoccupied with his tempting mouth. 

“What’s the matter, __?” Came Taehyung’s sly voice. You glanced at the rearview mirror to see him grinning. When his eyes met yours, the grin vanished in a flash.

You narrowed your eyes, Taehyung’s earlier werid behaviour coming to mind. “Nothing.”

The rest of the ride passed by in relative quiet. Only Jeongguk’s voice telling you about his recent trip back to Busan filled the car. You listened with your head on his shoulder, though your mind was adrift. 

You did not fancy the idea of sleeping alone in a cold bed, one of the boys’ constant warmth against you throughout your nights had spoiled you. You were just about to take Taehyung up on his earlier offer to spend the night with him when the car stopped suddenly. 

Confused, you sat up straight. It usually took twenty minutes to get to the boys’ dorm, thirty minutes to get to your apartment. It had barely been ten. “What is it? Why did we stop?”

Yoongi turned from his seat to look at you with a fond smile. “Your stop’s here, __.”

“What?” You frowned when Jimin got out of the car, holding out his hand for you to take. 

“Just trust us.”, Jeongguk whispered next to you. 

With a deep breath you took Jimin’s proffered hand, getting out of the car in the middle of the street. 

“What if someone sees us?”, you asked, scared someone might click pictures of you two together. “Where are we?”

Jimin shook his head, turning you toward the footpath on the side of the road. “You know where we are.”

When your eyes left his to glance around, your breath caught. Because you did know where you were. 

The lights inside the old bookstore you worked at illuminated your surroundings. Taking a step forward in amazement, you peered up at the two story building, the grey stucco walls of the exterior filling you with nostalgia. After you’d moved into your new apartment almost a year ago, the bookstore became too far out of your way for you commute to daily. You’d also gotten a better paying job working at a cafe. But you’d always missed the quiet of this store, the hundreds of books at your disposal that you had loved to explore. The cafe was too loud, boisterous and hectic in comparison. 

A throat cleared behind you and you turned to find Hoseok gazing at you from above the mask he had donned. The car and the rest of the boys were gone. 

“Did you really think I’d forget, baby?”

Elation surged through you and you barely restrained the sappy tears that threatened to overflow. He held out his arms and you launched yourself at him, making him laugh. 

“So that text was a lie?”

“Hmm.”, he hummed against your hair, pecking your forehead. “They did invite me to hang out but I had to politely reject.”

Hoseok wrapped an arm around your waist. “We should go in. Someone might recognise me out here even with the mask.”

Frowning, you let him lead you towards the front entrance. “Umm, are you sure? Do you wanna pick up a book or something? The lady who owns this building won’t like us having a date in her bookstore.”

Hoseok opened the door, ushering you in. The store was unsurprisingly empty, but you frowned when you saw nobody manning the cash register. 

“The lady who owns this store loves me. So I think we’re good.”

Your head snapped back to him. “Who?”

He pursed his lips, clearly suppressing his amusement. Fishing for something in his pocket, he held your hand out, palm side up. 

“You.” Two keys on a Superman keyring dropped on your palm. 

For a minute you stared at it dumbfounded, not comprehending him. But he spoke before you could bombard him with questions. 

“I bought this whole building in your name. It’s yours.” He closed your fingers around the keys. 

Blinking up at him, you swallowed at the resurgence of emotion within you. “I-umm”, you looked away. “Hoseok I don’t know what to say. It must have cost a fortune. I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can.”, he replied breezily, pulling your chin to make you look at him again. “I know you don’t like working at the cafe. They pay you peanuts there anyway. Now you don’t have to. The earnings from this store will be more than enough for your rent, tuition, bills and everything else.”

“I-I don’t know.” The part of you that wanted to earn everything you received rebelled at taking such an expensive gift. 

“I knew you would be stubborn.”, Hoseok sighed as if pained he was having to say this. “If you want, you can pay me back on your own time, okay.”

Cracking a smile, you gave him a knowing look. “You and I both know you’re not gonna accept a penny from me.”

He gave you a “duh” look. “ See, you’re smart. Now be a good girl and just tell me you love me.” 

You laughed. “Fine. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Cupping your cheeks, he kissed you like he meant it. “Now shall we christen this place?”

“Hobi!”

“What?”, he whined. “The first time we met I wanted to bend you over that table and fuck all the sass out of you.”

Glancing behind you at the old desk and chair you used to spend most of your shift at, you smirked. 

Sliding out of his arms, you made your way to the table, swinging your hips just right. When you reached it you placed your elbows on the surface, bending at the waist to wiggle your butt. 

“Come get me, Superman.”

Hoseok groaned, stalking toward you like a tiger on the hunt. 

A “whooo” escaped you when he gripped your jeans and panties to slide them down in one fell swoop, the garments tangled at your knees. 

“I’ve been hard ever since I got the first taste   of your pussy. I need it rough and fast this time baby.”, he growled, stroking your pussy before sliding two fingers inside. They slid in without any resistance. “Shit you’re so fucking wet.”

“You ate me out so good, I’m still dripping.”, you moaned as he wedged another finger inside your slick entrance. “Use me, Hobi.”

“Fuck.” You heard the clank of his belt and his zipper going down. He gripped his rock hard length to rub the engorged cock head up and down your slit, spreading his pre-cum and your juices everywhere. 

“Put it in.”, you moaned, still oversensitive from earlier. Your battered clit pulsed like a mini heartbeat and from the way Hoseok’s grip tightened on your buttocks, his nails digging in, you knew you were going to be sore after he was done with you. 

Positioning his cock at your hole, he buried himself to the hilt inside you with one hard thrust of his dancer hips. The force jerked you up the table, your hands flailing for purchase. 

“Oh.” You felt full, so deliciously and utterly stuffed. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Hoseok paused, letting you adjust and bringing his instincts under control. He did not want to hurt you. “You always take me so well. So fucking tight and warm.”

“Move, Hobi.”, you moaned after a second. “I’m ready.”

He set a punishing pace from the start. Clutching your hips in his hands he slammed you down on his dick as his hips surged upward in thrust after thrust. The slapping sound of skin against skin resounded throughout the store. You still had a hard time believing you were fucking in your old bookstore. 

Oh, how far you’d come. From reading smut on this very table to fucking your boyfriend over it. 

“I want to hear you, __. Don’t hold back.”, he hissed through his teeth, his hand snaking down to abuse your already sensitive clit some more.

“Shit shit! Oh my god.” Too much sensation assaulted you.

“Fuck, your pussy is squeezing my dick so good.” Hoseok adjusted his position, his length penetrating even deeper inside you. The speed of his pistoning hips doubled, if that was even possible. The table beneath you inched forward against the floor with his every harsh thrust. 

Your eyes rolled back in your head. This was the definition of a quick, rough fuck. The semi public nature of it shooting a thrill down your spine. The sign at the front said open, anybody could walk in any moment. Moreover though the desk of the cashier was placed sideways, if one wanted to peer inside the windows, they would definitely get an eyeful. 

The idea that someone could be watching you get your brains fucked out, made you even more wanton. Meeting Hoseok thrust for thrust, you reached back to pull his head down to your mouth, the difficult position and the hard slams of his dick inside you meant that you kissed not just his mouth but also his chin, nose and cheeks.

Hoseok laughed. “You’re so cute when you’re desperate, baby.” 

“Don’t call me desperate.”, you whined, biting his chin. “Also please make me cum.”

“Whatever you say.”

He looked entirely too pleased with himself, so you clenched your pelvic muscles till your pussy gripped his cock so tight. 

His thrusts faltered. “Shit baby.”, he groaned. “Of course you’re not desperate. I’m the one who’s desperate.” 

“Better.”

At that Hoseok hauled you up by your arms, circling his hands around your torso to hold you up. The upright position against the table forced him even deeper. He angled his hips just right, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot every time he drove inside you, coiling that impeding pressure in your belly more and more. 

“Are you close?”, he panted against your ear, his finger returning to circle your clit. 

“So close.” Gasping, you tilted your head when he bit the crook of your neck. “Just keep fucking me like that.”

The lewd noises of your love making echoed throughout the room, the rough slaps of skin, the incoherent moans, the table shaking beneath you. His thrusts didn’t relent one bit, battering your pussy till you felt that tingle in your spine building and building. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He cursed a storm, his nails digging crescents into your hips. Your walls clenched around his thick length desperately, the friction of him moving in and out too much for you. 

“I’m cumming, Hobi! Shit, I’m cumming!”, you screamed, just as he circled your clit roughly one last time, pushing you over the edge. 

“Oh my god!” Your second orgasm of the day was just as powerful as the first one, leaving you a barely conscious mess as tsunami waves of pleasure spread like currents through your every nerve ending. 

With you reaching your end, Hoseok fucked you like you were a blowup doll, with the sole purpose of reaching his own climax. He used your poor pussy, thrusting inside with supersonic speed. You clenched around him to help him along. 

“Shit __!” With a shout of your name he buried himself deep inside you, thick jets of his warm cum painting your inner walls white.  After you’d milked him of everything he had to give, he dropped down over you like a sack of potatoes. 

“That was amazing.”, you breathed beneath him. 

“Yeah.”, he panted. Apparently that was all he was capable of enunciating. Both of you caught your breathing, your thundering hearts slowing to a gallop. Hoseok nuzzled your neck like he wanted to burrow himself within you. You chuckled at his neediness.  

Once you’d both calmed down, he got up, taking you with him. After turning you around, he knelt before you. For a second he just watched his cum dribbling down the inside of your thigh, before placing a feather light kiss on your mound, as if apologising to your sore vagina. He pulled up your panties and jeans, fastening the fly. 

Eyes softening, you stroked his hair back from his face, gazing down at him with a smitten look on your face. “I love you.”

He was whipped for you as well. Taking your hand he placed a kiss on the inside of your palm. “I love you too.”

Frowning, you looked out the window. “What if someone saw us having sex?”

Chuckling, he got up off the floor. “Then I hope they enjoyed the show.”

[demaury]

On Film (or Between The Sheets) -- high school AU

CHAPTER 1. Life hasn't been the smoothest for Lucas in the past couple of months, family wise. When his dad ends up leaving the city to work in Paris, he's ready to do absolutely anything to be able to stay in his current school and keep his life on tracks. Anything. Even becoming a film student and moving in dorms. (read on ao3)

MERCREDI 12:41

If you were to ask Lucas how he’s managed to find himself in a situation like this, he’d probably have to explain quite a few things, but it’s pretty much a given that one of those things would be that, originally, he doesn’t even care about cinema all that much.

Certainly not enough to pick it as his main option for the BAC, that’s for sure.

“Come on,” he hisses through gritted teeth as the camera sways dangerously back and forth on its tripod.

Why is this not working? Why does the fucking world hate him that much?

He swears he’s been there for ages, crouching down and trying so fucking desperately to get that stupid camera to somehow fixate itself on that fucking support. His eyes travel around helplessly, but everyone’s busy around him. To be fair, it’s not like he’s exactly counting on it. There’s a schedule on the wall behind him, whose sole purpose is to remind them that they need at least three more pairs of arms each to be able to function with the shitload of tasks they were assigned at the beginning of the week.

A group of three third-years are glued to a computer screen and obsessing over whatever video editing software they’re using, two first-years and Emma are in the middle of filming an interview in the couch area of the movie theater hall, and Arthur’s gone seeing whatever movie he’s been assigned to watch. He briefly considers running outside to beg Alex to come help him, but the guy’s smoking with a third-year friend and Lucas doesn’t think he’d survive the humiliation of being brushed off, so he just sucks it up and focuses back on that stupid tripod instead.

If his teacher is back before he’s set it up-

“What are you doing?”, asks a voice behind him, just after he may or may not have clinked the camera a little harshly out of spite.

Lucas’ head snaps to the side, cheeks burning from being caught red-handed. He’s fucking sweating when his eyes meet Eliott Demaury’s questioning ones.

Of all fucking people, he screams to himself.

“I can’t get it to… I don’t know, fixate itself,” he says weakly.

He doesn’t even know the proper words for all that shit, how come are people even expecting him to put it all up on his own?

Eliott cocks an eyebrow. “Well, I’d say that smashing it probably won’t solve it, but I’ve never tried that either,” he shrugs with a smirk.

Lucas gives him a look. “Fuck you,” he mumbles, half-astounded by his own bravery. He turns his back on him, since the last thing he needs is some third-year know-it-all to make fun of him, and refocus his attention back on the biggest problem at hand instead. “If Chassart is back before I’ve finished setting this up, he’s gonna fucking kill me.”

“C’mon, let me help,” Eliott says as he crouches down next to him.

He reaches out to grab the camera, and Lucas glances at him from the corner of his eye before letting him. It’s not like he’s gonna do any worse than nothing, Lucas admits begrudgingly. Eliott starts fumbling in his jeans pocket, holding the camera nonchalantly from his other hand, and eventually he exhumes a coin that was apparently lost in there. Lucas barely holds back a snide comment — really, who still uses coins these days? —, but every bit of sarcasm fades out instantly as Eliott flips the coin expertly between his fingers. Next thing Lucas knows, he’s using it as a makeshift screwdriver to loosen the screw at the top of the tripod. Just like that, with a few movements that go way too fast for him to process and a satisfying click that he was so desperately waiting for a minute ago, the camera is fixated infuriatingly fast on its support.

He wants to die. Or at least for the fucking ground to open under his feet and swallow him.

Eliott tucks the coin back in his pocket like it’s nothing. “There you go,” he says casually, nudging the camera in his direction.

If only it was arrogance or made-up casualness, but really, no matter that Lucas talked with him a total of one time throughout his life, he knows Eliott is just that guy. Nice. Helpful. Exasperatingly good — a fucking natural. No wonder why he’s become Chassart’s favorite in no time. He’d be mad, jealous even, if being in the man’s good books was on his to-do list, but as it is he just wants to make it through that stupid hellweek that is his first film festival ever in one piece, and fuck the rest. If they’re being mistreated this way for a second-class film festival, he can only imagine how shit goes down when the third-years go to Cannes.

Cheeks burning and jaws clenching, he mumbles a small ‘thankyou’.

Eliott shrugs. “Why didn’t you just ask them before?”, he says, pointing at the trio of third-years on their computer from his chin.

“Didn’t want to bother,” Lucas groans, dropping himself flat on the carpeted floor.

It feels like forever since he even sat down, courtesy of a particularly busy morning.

“So you were just gonna wait for Chassart to come and yell at you?”

“Something like that, I guess.”

Eliott snorts and sits down, mirroring Lucas’ position. “Aren’t you supposed to team up with a third-year at least?”

Lucas swallows down a mean comment. Grow a pair, Lucas, I’m not here to fucking babysit you, is the last thing Léonie, the bitchy-third-year he was assigned to work with for the week, told him before turning on her heels with an overly exasperated sigh.

“Léonie’s gone to watch one of the movies,” he simply says, settling for a neutral observation.

He’s seen him hanging out with her quite a few times since Eliott arrived last September, the last thing he wants is to piss him off by being a bitch about one of his friends — even if said friend is the actual bitch.

“She told you to fuck off?”

Lucas glances up at Eliott, meeting his disturbingly beautiful eyes. “Kind of, yeah,” he admits.

Eliott hums noncommittally. “Who else is in your group?”

“Emma,” he says, gesturing at the couches where his friend is busy holding the fishpole over the film director they’re interviewing, “but she’s replacing someone missing in another team, and, uh, Maria I think. She’s a first-year.”

Obviously he had tried to team up with Arthur, but Chassart had purposely put them in different groups to ‘avoid any incident’, as he had said — what an asshole, he could have said he just wanted to feed off Lucas’ struggles at this point. He doesn’t bother enquiring about Eliott’s. He knows that one of his classmates, Sarah, has been literally close to fainting when she found out she was in his group.

“You can join mine,” Eliott says casually after a second.

Lucas quirks a brow. “I’m not sure this is how that works.”

“Not my point,” he waves. “We can make a trade. No offense but I’m sure Léonie would be happy.”

Lucas flips him off, offended, and Eliott starts laughing — the sounds sends fucking butterflies in Lucas’ stomach. Before he can even say that Sarah would murder him with her bare hands for being kicked out of Eliott’s group, he’s already standing up in a jump and walking right to the white board where the schedule is written, slaloming his way between the group of third-years and their chairs occupying most of the space.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lucas whisper-screams as he bolts up and follows suit, just when Eliott wipes Sarah’s name off the board. “Do you have a death wish or what?”

“Chassart likes me, he won’t say a thing,” Eliott shrugs, then he pauses halfway through wiping off Lucas’ name too and turns to him. “Unless you like being mistreated?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

“Are you fucking serious now?” Lucas huffs, another wave of laughter erupting from deep within Eliott’s chest. On the other side of the lobby, a flock of people is emerging from the depths of one of the dozen auditoriums, making his attention snap back to reality. Chances are that Chassart will be here in a matter of minutes, maybe seconds even. “Alright, but just move your ass already!”

Eliott grins, blinding, and wipes the few other mentions of Lucas on the schedule, while Lucas is busy fumbling on the table aligned against the wall to find the black pen they need. He manages to find it under a bunch of papers sitting there and to toss it in Eliott’s hands. He has to admit, Eliott’s recklessness forces the admiration. Chassart is a bit of a psycho, there’s no fucking way he’s getting away with it.

And yet. He keeps watching as Eliott is writing his name down, in small caps that he isn’t even remotely trying to make similar to their teacher’s messy handwriting, until it’s all done and Eliott closes the pen with a satisfying click of the cap.

“Lucas!”

They spin around in time to see their teacher walking inside their designated area of the lobby. “What are you doing here?” Chassart asks bluntly, ever so amiable. “And what’s that camera doing here? I told Léonie that the interview was delayed to this afternoon!”

Lucas’ stomach churns and he hates it. Fucking asshole, he thinks, but he doesn’t really know if it’s about Léonie or about Chassart.

“I took Lucas with me,” Eliott says, barely more serious than he was two minutes before — meanwhile, all the fucking alarms go off in Lucas’ head, as Chassart’s eyes dart onto Eliott. “I needed him for something, so I made a trade.”

There’s a one-second blank, and behind Chassart’s back, Lucas can see Arthur making a ‘what the fuck?’ face. I’m going to die, that’s what’s happening, he wants to say, and if telepathy really is working then maybe Arthur will be able to remember his last few words.

But to Lucas’ astonishment, Chassart seems to deflate.

“Really,” he says after a pause, but it doesn’t really sound like a question. He heaves a sigh. “Alright. Whatever, if that works best for you,” he groans with an eyeroll.

A first-year slides in next to them at this moment, and it’s a much-welcomed distraction that allows Lucas to start breathing again. Chassart looks at the kid, who blabbers a question, when something nudges Lucas’ arm. His eyes jump onto Eliott, who lets him know with a subtle movement of his chin that it’s fucking time to move.

“See?”, Eliott says to him once they’ve retreated a couple of meters away. “I told you it was going to be fine.”

“Tell that to my fucking heart,” Lucas mumbles grumpily.

MERCREDI 13:01

“Why did you pick cinema as your major now anyway?”

Lucas looks up from his kebab, halfway through making a fool of himself thanks to an uncooperative tomato. Eliott’s questioning eyes are on him, which would be fine if they weren’t so piercing and intimidating all at once that his skin literally prickles under them.

They are on their five-minute lunch break, but rather than running like madmen to the McDonald’s next door to wait in line desperately long for a mere box of chicken nuggets and a few cooling French fries, like they all did twice a day since the beginning of the week, Eliott insisted that they push their luck to the kebab place across from the crowded parking lot.

And, well, like most things with Eliott Demaury, apparently, it had all gone too fast for Lucas to even process. Before he even realized they were ordering food and sitting down to eat.

Just the two of them. In a particularly silent restaurant.

That too would be totally fine. In another universe. Where he doesn’t have to smear mayonnaise all over his face and end up with a mouthful of tomato and kebab meat when Eliott Demaury happens to be willing to make conversation.

He has to bite down onto the sliced vegetable to tear it into pieces and free himself from the embarrassment, which ends up feeling like the longest seconds of his life. “I wanted to stay in that school,” he says after hastily swallowing down. He reaches for a paper napkin to wipe his mouth clean. “My dad moved away and since it was no longer in my designated area, it was the only solution. That or European section, but I know basically three words in English and my grades aren’t good enough to get in there, so yeah,” he shrugs and spreads his hands, “here I am, I guess.”

Eliott’s brow furrows, and it makes Lucas swoon a little bit. That story isn’t even remotely interesting by any means. But somehow, there’s something in Eliott that makes it seem like it’s a big deal that deserves his undivided attention. He’s not even sure his dad gave him half this amount of attention when Lucas told him about his plans for the new school year.

“You literally went from S to L just to stay in that school?”, Eliott asks, looking surprised.

Lucas makes a face. “Yeah. Stupid uh? To be fair I was lame with science and physics. I only liked math.” He realizes something just as he’s picking up a French fry in his plate. “How do you even know I was a S student?”

Eliott takes a sip from his Coca Cola before answering with a grin. “Alex is pretty chatty at night. I guess that’s the only perk of being the new guy, everyone wants you to have the audio-detailed version of everything that went down, ever.”

The way he has to look at him, waggling his eyebrows once to mark his words, makes Lucas feel naked and exposed. How much did Alex tell him exactly? How much does Alex care about him anyway? They do hang out sometimes, and Alex has been dropping by every now and then in the dorm he shares with Arthur and Basile, but that’s mostly it. Ending up in a street fight with him doesn’t magically forge lifelong ties, so he does wonder. It’s always been a strange feeling to think that people might care about him, especially when it’s someone he barely knows. The most he’s talked with Eliott until today has been a quick ‘hi’ at some point last September — a little breathy on Lucas’ part, actually. Really, not his finest moment. But if anything, he blamed it (and still does, and will probably keep blaming it until his dying breath) on the fact that he hadn’t expected the new third-year to look like that. If he had gotten the memo, then maybe he’d have reacted otherwise and not looked like he had been struck by lightning.

“What about you?”, he says, trying to sound casual as he grabs a few fries. There’s the nagging reminder, at the back of his head, that they’re supposed to hurry the fuck up if they want to make it back in time for the movie, but it’s not fair that is only shot at talking with Eliott should be reduced to nothing just because. “Why did you switch schools just before the BAC?”

He’s heard stories, or rather theories, about why he transferred, but if anything they all seem pretty stupid and rarely seem to work with reality. Last time he heard about it, he was chilling with the drama kids in their assigned work room at school between two periods, and Daphné said, with a trembling voice, that he had gotten involved with shady kids at his former school, including some who had a record already. He could not really tell if it was supposed to be a bad thing or not in Daphné’s books, given her excitement over sharing that particular rumor.

Eliott doesn’t really acknowledge that he’s talked for a good minute, looking too absorbed in the content of his plate to bother, and Lucas wonders briefly if he should repeat himself or not.

After an agonizing silence, Eliott finally glances up, looking awfully serious. “My parents sent me away from Paris because I helped my twin sister run away with her boyfriend,” he says, and Lucas blinks slowly, trying to keep his eyebrows from jumping up. “They didn’t approve of their relationship, and we’re like, related somehow. A whole mess.”

For a moment Lucas doesn’t say anything and simply stares, silently, as Eliott takes a sip from his drink.

“Did you really just give me the shitty plot of Riverdale?”, Lucas deadpans. A wide grin blooms on Eliott’s face, eyes crinkling and dimples popping out, and Lucas has no other option but to huff a laugh that sounds fonder than expected. “You’re such an ass.”

“But the fact that you’re finding it shitty makes me love you even more,” Eliott shrugs, crumpling a paper napkin between his hands.

He’s too busy checking the time on his phone to notice the way Lucas nearly chokes on his food — which, honestly, might be best for everyone.

MECREDI 17:48

The afternoon rolls around quickly, most of it being taken over by the interview Eliott is busy directing. At least the director is a nice guy in his forties who’s mostly grateful to have been invited at all, so it makes everyone relax a little — everyone except Eliott, whose level of concentration probably amounts that of a mine-clearer. Lucas, for his part, is mostly busy stealing glances at him, but it’s not like his job is a difficult one. Eliott has put him behind the monitor, so the majority of his task is just sitting on a chair behind the screen and making sure the fishpole doesn’t just appear at the top — The place where you’ll do the least amount of damage, Eliott has said, grinning, and he was rewarded by a kick of Lucas’ elbow in the stomach.

It should probably have bothered him, to be just an obstacle or something, but he can’t decently argue with Eliott’s reasoning, mostly because he’s right. He knows next to nothing about literally anything and he’d rather sit back and do nothing than to make Eliott mad at him.

He blames it on team work, that relevance that Eliott suddenly acquired in his life since this morning.

It’s because they’re working together and because Eliott Demaury is so much more used to all of this that suddenly the guy he’s been talking to only once prior to this day turns into the person he’s looking for in a crowd. It’s got nothing to do with his good looks.

“The movie’s about to start,” Arthur says after checking the schedule. “We should go now.”

Thanks to Chassart’s careful planning, it’s the most he’s heard from his friend since they left school after breakfast this morning.

Lucas doesn’t mean to do it, but while he hums in response, his body shifts towards where Eliott is standing. He’s chatting with Alex, retrieving his jacket from the back of his chair, and soon they’re already walking away to cross the lobby.

He blames the way his heart clenches on the fact that Alex could have told him to join too.

He knows Alex.

Alex knows him — well enough, apparently, to tell stuff about him to the new guy. It was only the least he could do, the polite thing to do. But he doesn’t, and Lucas simply stares as Eliott and Alex join two or three more of their classmates, before the group disappears in the depths of carpeted halls.

Yeah. It’s all because of Alex, he decides as he finally follows Arthur through the lobby.

[taronfanfic]

Promise - Part 1

A/N: This is kinda two requests merged into one, which got unintentionally super long so I’ll write the second part soon!

“Are you fucking ready yet?” Taron mumbled as he walked out of your bedroom door and made his way downstairs before you could even answer. It was the first thing he’d said to you since you’d bickered over breakfast about the price tag that came with your dress.

“I know I’ve been more invested in this film than you recently so take my card and buy yourself a nice dress for the wrap party, we’ll have a fun night and I promise to make all those late night shoots up to you.” You replied with Taron’s own words in a mocking tone as you gently curled the strands of hair to frame your face. His hypocritical comments of treating yourself and taking the piss with how much you’d spent had left you fuming and you’d all but decided to sack the wrap party off. That was until Taron started giving you the silent treatment. He wasn’t going to get away with sulking that easily, and you weren’t about to stay in and let him have all the fun.

No compliments were exchanged as you left the house and got into the back seats of the taxi, but you did manage to coax Taron back into some small talk about who else would be attending the party. The longer the issue between you lay unresolved the higher the tension rose. As both of you deliberately avoided taking the conversation there, starting to act as though nothing was wrong at all, it quickly became an unsaid competition between the pair of you.

“Y/N, you look amazing!” Richard greeted you warmly before pulling you in for a hug and placing a quick kiss to your cheek. “T, how are you mate?” He hugged Taron just as tightly, lingering longer before pulling away and then smiling shyly to you.

“Don’t worry, I’m not the jealous type.” You joked to Richard and took a sly little dig at Taron’s past behaviour which you knew would get right under his skin. The feel of his eyes staring at you as he withdrew his arm from around your waist was all the confirmation you needed. He never got chance to get in a comment back as he was pulled away by other guests at the party, leaving you in Richard’s company for the night.

“I think we should get a drink.” Richard offered you his arm and walked you over to the bar.

“So what’s a handsome man like you doing here all alone tonight?” You asked before sipping the champagne from the top of your glass.

“Well we can’t all be lucky enough to have a woman as beautiful as you to party the night away with, can we? Taron’s really got it all, hasn’t he?”

“Not that he seems to know it…” You added as you walked off ahead of Richard and found a quieter corner with a small table and two bar stools.

“No?”

You couldn’t help but gaze into Richard’s blue eyes as he offered you a listening ear and his ever-present calmness. It was a wonder he managed to get a word in when he was around Taron. Maybe he thought the same about you.

“It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head quickly before taking a longer sip of your drink. “I’m here to have fun, not moan to you about him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not your problem that he can’t keep his promises.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Richard seemed to apologise on Taron’s behalf as he reached out and placed his free hand over yours. “I’m sure you’ll figure things out, he loves you to bits.”

“S’got a funny way of showing it tonight. No. Y’know what… I don’t need him tonight. I’ve got champagne, there’s good music on and even better company sat opposite me. We’ll have a laugh instead!”

“I’ll cheers to that!” The smile that took over Richard’s face was all you needed to take the thoughts of Taron from your mind. You drank, joked, laughed, gossiped and teased each other like you were the best friends in this group, not him and Taron. The time flew by and before you knew it you were more drunk than you’d intended on getting. That’d teach you to try and keep pace with a Scot!

“Come and dance with me, Rich. I love this song!” His bicep felt strong beneath your fingertips as you reached out for his arm to steady yourself, your heels throwing you off balance for a second when you slid down from your stool.

“No, no no no. I don’t dance. Not well, anyway! Literally everyone else in this room can confirm that.”

“Won’t be anything they haven’t seen before then, will it? Come on!”

“Maybe later, after a few more of these.” He downed the rest of his glass of champagne and started to walk back to the bar. “I promise! I’ll get you another, you go dance with the girls and show Taron what he’s missing!”

The dancers from the film welcomed you onto the dancefloor with open arms and didn’t care in the slightest that you had the world’s most embarrassing moves. They started to copy a few and somehow make them look good and before long you were all laughing together and having a great time. You took a few glances back to where Richard was sat, still watching you and smiling and you knew that whatever happened between you and Taron, Richard would be a friend for life. On your next glance over Richard had been joined by Taron and the pair were deep in conversation. Richard’s hand was on Taron’s shoulder as he spoke to him with what seemed like a serious tone. Part of you hoped they’d be talking about you, that Richard would be talking some sense into Taron, but he hadn’t looked in your direction once. They could be talking about anything, but either way you were desperate to know.

The next time you caught Richard’s eye you beckoned him on to the dancefloor, grinning widely as you swayed your hips and then spun around. He shook his head back to you with a coy smile.

“I’m not taking no for an answer!” You called out loudly as you walked over to him. “You promised me, Rich. Don’t become another man to let me down.” It was too easy to take a second dig at Taron when he was in ear-shot. You felt his hand reach out for your arm as you walked around him to get to Richard, but you shrugged him off.

“Alright, just one.” Richard giggled as he got to his feet and led you by the hand back to the dancefloor.

“A true gentleman.”

You’d barely made it back into the group of people on the dancefloor when the up-tempo song ended and the intro of a slower love song blended seamlessly together.

“Now this I can dance to!” Richard seemed thrilled as he placed his palm to your back and pulled you in closer to him, smiling happily as you reached your arms up and around his neck. “I’ll show Taron how it’s done.”

“What were you talking about before I interrupted you?”

“What do you think?”

“Me?” You didn’t realise you’d bitten your lip as you lost yourself in his eyes at this new close proximity.

“I just told him how lucky he was to have you… and that if he fucked it up there’d be a queue of guys waiting to sweep you off your feet.”

“Are you in that queue?”

“Right at the front.”

You weren’t sure how to reply to that. You’d both had a lot to drink and Richard knew you were upset with Taron so he was probably just trying to cheer you up. But as his grip of you tightened when you let your chin rest on the top of his shoulder you weren’t 100% sure that there wasn’t some element of truth behind it.

Taron hadn’t taken his eyes off the pair of you as you danced together and slowly rotated around and around. You cast him a small sweet smile from over Richard’s shoulder in an attempt to soften the atmosphere between you, but he just rolled his eyes back at you. The next time around you deliberately started to lower your hands down Richard’s back, inching down towards his bum and taking hold much to Richard’s delight.

“Is this for my benefit or is that still the heat I can feel from Taron’s eyes burning a hole in my back?”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t.” You pulled away, realising that hurting Richard was the last thing you wanted to do, especially if there was a chance of deeper feelings being involved from his side.

“It’s ok, just go and fix things with Taron. Please.”

“Thank you for tonight, Richard. I’ve really enjoyed it.” You left a quick kiss to his cheek.

“So have I, Y/N. Let’s do it all again in Cannes, yeah?”

“Without a doubt! I’ll get more than once dance out of you too.” You laughed as you walked away from Richard and picked up Taron’s stare, feeling the mood shift instantly.

“Home?”

“I think that would be best.” You replied as you walked straight past him and out the door.

Tag list: @egerton-sweetie  @amanda-tallmadge  @lizziespidiepridie@leanimal90@anantheminmyheart22 @aynsleywalker@bohemianrhapsody86@butterfliesslugswormsandothershi @manners-maketh-taron@livingincompletesilence @marvelmakeuplover@ohsosmutty@misspygmypie  @manners-maketh-a-kingsman@courtmr@baileythepenguin @thomaslefteyebrow@witchymarvelspacecase@samanthasmileys @nellietara @i-cant-remember-my-old-login@wheresmylightinthedark

[mnetruinedmylife]

MJ3 Clones

Based upon a tumblr post that I can no longer find (the link is dead)

https://callmeawota.tumblr.com/post/85499142124/what-if-prison-hope-was-just-a-prison-full-of

What if in Majisuka Gakuen 3, Prison Hope is just a dumping ground for out-of-control government clones of the MG1-5 cast?

__________________________________________________________

The story begins the way it ends – in a dreary ramshackle pub sandwiched between two concrete buildings.

Two people sit on opposite sides of the tattered booth couches, a middle aged man with peppered hair in a grey suit, and a young woman with in bob haircut and a pair of wiry spectacles. The man appears friendly, fingers strumming on the splintered wooden tables, sipping on piss-poor beer in a questionably murky mug, while the woman eyes the stack of papers in front of her dubiously.

“That’s it?” she asks, skimming through the sheet in front of her, “You’ll give me thirty million yen for some skin and blood samples?”

“That’s all there is to it Maeda-san,” the man replies smoothly, “Just sign the contract and we’ll have a team come to collect the samples at your convenience, and the money will be deposited in your account on that very day.”

Now Maeda Atsuko may be a former yankee-delinquent, and she might not have been the most studious student in her schooling career, but she definitely isn’t stupid. There has got to be more to this than what they’re telling her, and that’s not even counting what they could possibly be planning to do with her DNA samples. News articles about scientific research looking at what caused all of the random abilities that started popping up in people about thirty or so years ago flash through her mind. Abilities like Black’s super speed, Gekikara’s endurance and Torigoya’s psychic hypnosis.

Atsuko never thought she had an ability, because in her mind, super strength has always been associated with lifting trucks and buildings, and she definitely cannot do that. Then that news article came out about some big scandal where a medical company was found to be experimenting on people with abilities, trying to replicate them. In particular the story was focused on a girl who had augmented strength, nothing flashy like the movies and TV shows, just strong enough to have a weird discrepancy between her muscle-mass and the amount of power she could exert. The realisation hits Atsuko like a train – a girl her size probably shouldn’t be able to hit as hard, or get up after taking so many hits like she does. She cuts back on the cage fighting, and the bodyguard jobs after that. No need to be flashing ‘I’m a powered person!’ sign with neon lights over her head. Apparently that didn’t work out too well because there’s a supposed government agent sitting across from her trying to get her DNA samples.

“And what exactly are you going to do with the samples?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified Maeda-san. You needn’t worry yourself over trivialities like that. Rest assured that whatever happens won’t be your responsibility at all.”

Long story short, there isn’t a single good thing that can come from giving this shady (potentially non-government, because who is this cheap-beer-drinking guy think he’s fooling?) organisation her DNA.

But it’s not like she has much of a choice.

As it turns out, being arrested and charged for assault doesn’t do much for job prospects. Particularly when there’s been a colourful history of violence and delinquency before that. So no matter how hard she studied, Atsuko never quite managed to land that job as a nurse. Casual retail work, and odd cash-in-hand jobs barely manage to keep her afloat all these years, but now…a hand subconsciously ghosts down to her stomach…she’s not feeding one anymore.

The choice isn’t difficult to make.

________________________________________________________________

Atsuko assumes that they’re using her DNA to study and replicate abilities.

She’s dead wrong.

This company has decidedly bigger aspirations.

________________________________________________________________

Project Beginnings and Subject MA#071091 Alias: Atsuko| Parent DNA: Maeda Atsuko |

Time Stamp Nineteen Hundred Hours. Subject MA#071091 is a success.

“Congratulations everyone!”

Time Stamp Zero Eight Fifteen Hours. Subject MA#071091 is refusing to cooperate. Possible solutions:

a. immediate termination (not recommended, last resort only)

b. behavioural observation and adjustment (recommended, more funding required)

c. obedience training* see service dog manual for more details (recommendation pending)

d. memory implantation (theoretical only, much more funding required)

Time Stamp Zero Zero Zero Five Hours. Subject MA#071091 has escaped facility.

“This program is an abomination! Human cloning is illegal!”

Time Stamp Zero Zero Thirty-Nine Hours. Subject MA#071091 retrieved with mild damage. Losses include: five injured personnel, and two casualties.  

“Senator think of what we can do with a project like this! We could remove all personnel from the field, drop war casualties to zero. These girls are good-for-nothing delinquents, but they’ve shown they could do one thing: fight. So why not use that for the good of the country?”

Time Stamp Fifteen Twenty-Six. Petition to the senate is a success. Funding for project expansion acquired.

“There’s an eccentric millionaire willing to work with us. She owns a private prison on some remote mountain. It’d be the perfect place for that behavioural observation and adjustment facility we’ve been discussing.”

Time Stamp Seventeen Thirty-Three Hours. Memory Alteration Project is a success.

“We finally got our hands on those samples from that warehouse massacre a few years back. Begin working on all viable subjects.”

Time Stamp Zero Five Hundred Hours. Subject MA#071091 has escaped Prison Facility.

“Try adding sunshine and rainbows. Happy thoughts. Make it happy to be here.”

Time Stamp Ten Zero Fifty-Seven Hours. Subject MA#071091 retrieved with major damage. Losses include three injured personnel, and zero casualties.

“Get rid of the guns, we’ve been allocated a portion of the budget for Tasers. The clones are expensive, don’t damage them!”

Time Stamp Sixteen Thirty Hours. Non-fatal toxin-releasing braces are a success. Implementing security device on all subjects.

“According to the psychologists’ report the bracelets appear to be having a negative effect on the subjects’ overall morale.”

Time Stamp Thirteen Eighteen. Multiple riots in the last three days. Damages still to be calculated.

“It’s chaos out there sir. We had to activate nearly two dozen bracelets to stop them from killing each other. They just get violent when we throw them together for too long.”

Time Stamp Thirteen Forty-Two. Subject MA#071091 missing from head count. Last accounted for before the riots started.

“If they like fighting so much, give them an enemy to focus on.”

Time Stamp Twenty Hundred Hours. Subject MA#071091 retrieved with poison damage by subjects SM#110386, KY#150791, and OY#171088. Cannibal Initiative is a success.

“I want a tracker put on this one and someone get the psychologists in here now! It’s the tenth riot this week!”

Time Stamp Eleven Twenty-One. Teamwork Initiative implemented. All subjects divided into multiple teams to encourage cooperation and reduce rioting. Observations pending.

“Sir it’s that Maeda clone—

“—if you tell me it’s escaped again, so help me…”

“…uh…It’s escaped again.”

Time Stamp Zero One Hundred Hours. Subject MA#71091 terminated.

________________________________________________________________

Subject MJ#080397 Alias: Nobunaga | Parent DNA: Matsui Jurina [Center] |

Verdict: Great Success* | Sentience: Self-Aware | Status: Locked-down, constant visual monitoring required, termination pending|

Subject MJ#080397 was originally the most successful cloning experiment completed to date. The fighting prowess had been greatly improved compared to the original, and attitude adjustments were able to successfully stamp out all of the unwanted aspects of the original’s personality, such as arrogance and impatience. However, as time went by and re-evaluations have been completed, it’s revealed that the subject retains the original’s stubbornness and noble streak, and will not be cowed into compliance. The subject is supremely dangerous and must be kept separate from the general population to prevent it from organising the rest of the clones into a resistance.

The Mind-Wipe protocol has been deemed a failure, as the subject continues to be non-compliant even when confused and disorientated from the lack of memories, which exponentially quickens in its recall after each mind-wipe.  

*Note: Great Success was the initial verdict after the subject proved to be superior to original in combat, however the status was revoked after the subject’s repeated disobedience and failure to comply with orders.

_______________________________________________________

Subject KY#110296 Alias: Peace | Parent DNA: Kizaki Yuria [Magic]|

Verdict: Success | Sentience: Almost-Aware| Status: Closely monitored, bi-weekly check-in|

Subject KY#110296, self-named Peace, is one of the more successful clones created in the project. The original’s fighting prowess has been replicated successfully, reports do indicate that it may even be slightly improved, barring the preference for trickery, which seems to have been a trait nurtured by the original’s environment and upbringing. After several failures, it was discovered that the clone responds positively to parental encouragement. After negotiating with the contractor, several memories were implanted into Peace to create the illusion that she is the daughter of the prison warden. The results were an extreme success with exponential improvement in emotional, mental and physical states. 

Notes: Due to the subject’s psychological requirements, it needs to be kept partially aware under false pretenses of being the prison warden’s daughter. If the truth, or simply the falsehood of being the prison warden’s daughter is revealed, it may have detrimental affects on the clone’s effectiveness.

 ____________________________________________________________

Subject IA#031295 Alias: Annin | Parent DNA: Iriyama Anna [Yoga]|

Verdict: Great Success | Sentience: Semi-Aware | Status: Closely monitored, fortnightly check-in|

Subject IA#031295 has been deemed an extreme success. Its fighting prowess has been recorded as a vast improvement upon the originals. However, the special ability that the original possesses has not been able to be successfully replicated in any clone. Researchers speculate that Yoga’s so-called distraction ability was nothing more than exaggerated tales.

The subject is generally compliant and well behaved, however it has been noted to be asking certain questions in recent weeks. Close monitoring must be kept upon the subject to ensure that it does not become aware.

Notes: The subject has developed a sadistic streak, monitor to ensure that it does not become a liability.

 ________________________________________________________

Subject SH#300394 Alias: Paru | Parents DNA: Shimazaki Haruka [Salt] & Maeda Atsuko [Maeda]|

Verdict: Moderate Success |Sentience: Completely Unaware* |Status: Constant monitor, visual confirmation at all times |

With the failure of Subject MA#71091 attributed to mostly too much willpower inherited from the original (Maeda), researches have decided to create a clone using the spliced DNA of Maeda and a more apathetic parent. This resulted in the creation of Subject SHMA#300394.

Subject SHMA#300394 must be kept under the Mind-Wipe protocol at all times. While replicating Salt’s fighting prowess is still a work in progress, the subject has been deemed a considerable success, and is the most powerful clone created to date. The subject is however, not deemed a complete success, as it is wilful, and has developed all of Maeda’s passion, and none of Salt’s apathy, and thus far had been kept sedated, or mind-wiped in order to be kept pliant.  

*Note: Ensure that subject remains UNAWARE. Subject is impossible to control when approaching any status beyond ‘unaware’.

 _________________________________________________________)

Subject KR#120295 Alias: Nanashi | Parent DNA: Kawaei Rina [Bakamono] |

Verdict: Failure | Sentience: Unaware | Status: Monitored remotely, annual check-in |

Subject KR#120295 or ‘Nanashi’ is a complete failure in every way, barring physical health. Replication of the original’s fighting prowess and super strength ability could not be achieved. It’s been deduced that the parent’s fighting capability was likely due to environmental factors, such as trauma in her life that is thus far mostly unknown.  Trial and error of introducing trauma to the subject early in its life cycle resulted in a clone that is too anxious and frail to be of any use in combat.