#I hope you still like my suit design in its actual colours

[stolos]

This one goes out to everyone who thought he had hip cut-outs in the last post

[wolven91]

Slugs & Apes - Chapter 3

“Oh hey, they brought up all my stuff already!” The damnable human cheerfully exclaimed as if nothing was wrong.

Blarah stayed in the foyer of the human’s diplomat quarters that led into a larger seating area, steeling herself from his subtle attempts to undermine her defences. He was currently standing in a room with a large square taking up most of the space. It looked soft with too much material to keep clean, with yet more cushions cluttering up the top.

“Literally everything else that was to do with me it seems…” He said it in more of a confused tone as he picked up a vacuum suit that was obviously designed for a human. Seemingly the ground crew grabbing everything that had been designed for the human. More bits and pieces that wasn’t a part of his travel cases and trunks, tumbled from their place on top of the suit that had been laid on top of the soft square.

He bent over right in front of Blarah causing her left eye stalk to twitch.

He wasn’t making the expected movements that she came to anticipate during flirting, but just as she believed that the human couldn’t mimic a sluggat’s proper movements correctly in an effort to entice her, he would go and partially bend himself in half!

As she subtly melted into the floor, he chose this moment to explore the foyer, lounge combo. 

The furniture, she had to assume was human design; she wasn’t foolish, she could see the shapes of the seating would allow him to fold himself along its outer edges and relieve himself from constantly toppling over.

“They even got actual books out here?” He joyfully said as he walked over to a shelf that contained several colourful tomes. “Wait… These aren’t.. ‘Lady Sluggatlies Lover’.. ‘50 Types of Salt’..?”

He held translated copies of what could only be described as a genre that perhaps wasn’t the best to introduce a truly alien species. Their completely different culture and art could perhaps wait for a better moment. These were fine for any other of the Sluggats, they all roughly had the same mindsets, but how would this creature react?

“Ah, those are… well I suppose if you wanted to stay in here; you could rest and read them?” She offered, hoping the curiosity of an entirely new Station, even if it was one as mundane as this one, would lure him away from the embarrassing shelf of smut.

His eyes turned to her, she knew the exact moment he was looking at her, the green and white of his eyes were so stark and focused, they almost made her fearful. Nothing looked at her in the same manner that the human did.

“Oh I think you could tempt me out of my little hidey-hole here…” He said with a strange inflection as he paced towards her.

So tall, so solid, so close.

“Are you okay? I don’t mean anything by it, but you’re acting different from the other Sluggats I’ve met, like you’re distracted? I don’t want to stand in the way if you want to do something?” His entire head tilted slightly as he regarded her.

If. If she was to fall, now would be the time. 

This was as close as a direct question this damn seductive mammal would offer her as he evilly led her around by the tentacle and she couldn’t even say it was against her will.

“I..” She started, losing her voice to a breathy whisper.

He leaned closer, his oh so solid hand resting against her side. He felt so good as it pressed in, so good it hurt.

“..yes?” He whispered, matching her volume with naught but a misleading look of care and concern.

“I think I-” was all she got out as the entire Station shuddered in a gut lurching groan. Human and sluggat toppled over, the human landing atop the young miss in his tumble.

Oh mercy... Oh stars and moons; his weight pressed her in all the right places, ‘and yet.. not quite the right places...’ a devilish part of her mind grumbled. Again her mind threatened to snap as he rolled off her in an alarming rapid movement, her skin still tingled where her flesh and his had met and exchanged with one another. He had a slight shimmer to himself, across his face, the dampness of his cloth clothing was proof as any that what she had just felt was not a hallucination of her tortured mind.

But then reality set in as an alarm began to blare. A worrying blue light had revealed itself from the centre of the roof and flashed in a steady beat, alerting any and all to see that they were in grave danger.

“What was that? I don’t know what the siren’s for?” He asked in a pressing tone as the eerie blue light washed over him in a steady beat.

“That.. that’s the boarding alarm! P-pirates!” Blarah stuttered, feeling the creeping dread build within her.

There were stories…

Pirates have always been an issue in one capacity or another throughout every sluggat race’s history. Whether they were roguish gentle-slugs that stole the honourable ladies hearts or cut throat demons that would rob, torture or kill those they came across.

As sluggats came together amongst the stars, the fantasy slipped away as the worst of the worst rose to the surface and took control of the raiding clans. Mostly they raided the outer routes, tax-less and defenceless, but that didn’t stop the occasional clan from becoming large enough to attempt to attack a Station.

But this hunk of junk was just a pit stop along The Edge, they weren’t important or known to have anything of value on board! They were just… just one of the many pit-stops that encircled the ever expanding Edge. Why here? Why now!

Blarah didn’t want to be found by the pirates, the fear began to overtake her as wet tears began to swell from beneath the eyeball atop her stalk.

“I don’t want to be found by them Greg, please! Please don’t let them get me…” She begged without shame as she wrapped her tentacles around him and buried her retracted stalks and head into his chest.

“..I-i won’t. I won’t let them touch you. I promise.” He words became stronger as he understood how affected she was. His promise was sturdier than he was and despite the likelihood of it being a comforting lie, she believed him.

“I can help in the defence; what’s their usual tactics? Weapons? Anything you know could help me.” He demanded of her, putting his hands either side of her body and pulling her away from him to hold her steady in front of him, bathing her in his piercing gaze. She felt like if she kept anything from him, he would see it immediately. She knew deep down, she could never have secrets from this creature.

“They will have demands. They rarely kill everyone, but will… will kill a portion t-to send a message with the survivors that; if we keep resisting, they’ll keep killing.” She took a breath as her body shuddered in fear again.

“But.. their weapons Greg. They don’t just kill you, they use older models, less mercifulness, ones that won't kill you outright, but leave you… m-melting.”

She squeezed her eyes down into her like a child, dimpling her now tacky flesh, drying out in the stress of the situation.

“I won’t let that happen to you. You hear me Blarah? I promise I will protect you.”

There was no lie there, he believed every word and made his intentions crystal clear. Her eyes slowly reappeared.

“But I have to go, and I have to go now. I could help save someone; anyone.”

He didn’t want to leave her, he could see that he was abandoning her to try and save her. He was caught in a paradox. He had seen what happens when ‘pirates’ or ‘raiders’ got the drop of people. Humanity had suffered heavily not hours after the disastrous rescue from Earth when raiders had attacked and destroyed multiple ships carrying the ragged remains of humanity. Greg had learnt to defend himself in the time that had followed and had promised he would do everything he could to defend life as a whole.

She brushed a tentacle against his cheek, wiping away the beading moisture that had collected there.

“Go, my Greg. Be safe and come back to me. Please.”

He didn’t reply, he stood up straight, as tall as a mountain and just as steady. His resolve and solidness gave her courage. His whole aura had changed as if a switch had been thrown and a whole new predator had taken the place of what was moments ago, a sexy, flirtatious beast.

He collected several items from his luggage and donned the vacuum suit, before leaving with instructions on the fastest route to the dock, where the pirates would have boarded. As the door closed behind him and locked down with the panic button depressed on her side of the door, 

Blarah looked down at her tentacle that she cradled against herself.

Her flesh where she had wiped his brow; blistered and burnt…

“They aren’t the demons… he is.”

====

The assistant quartermaster was in over his head. He had a small calibre sodium-shot and not enough ammo to keep the pirates pinned down. The whole dock team had similar weapons, but they had been whittled down as the fight progressed, some of their screams, now greatly diminished, still echoed around the dock. The box Blorbus squished behind, shuddered and pushed forward again, as a solid lump of salt smacked into the opposite side of it. 

Someone had a Rock Launcher.

The young quartermaster, barely out of training, saw the transport doors of the lift at the other end of the dock open to release a strange sight. Panic swept over him as a strange, white… thing!... Came rapidly moving out of it; on two straight appendages. It moved with surprising speed even if it looked as if it was about to fall over at any moment. Within seconds it had used as much cover as possible to close the distance between itself and the young yellow-hued Sluggat.

Today was the worst day in his entire life and one that would haunt him in the future, but it only got weirder as the thing addressed him directly. 

“Have you got a weapon?! We need to push them back! If they take the dock, we’re going to struggle to contain them!”

Blorbus snagged the weapon of his colleague, he didn’t want to think about the mess that was once a drinking buddy, and slid it across the ground to the white thing. He couldn’t see its face due to the visor. Blorbus realised a vacuum suit was a great idea, it might stop the first hit from melting the person, but the moment the coarse rocks tore through the material, the second hit would kill them just the same.

The youth peeked around the box, keeping calm, pressing the horrors around him to the back of his mind, and picked his target to fire. His shot was true, the lump of sodium fired and impacted an attacker who dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. They writhed on the ramp as they began to ooze and melt rapidly.

“Okay, I’m going to push up; you keep me covered, alright?!” It shouted again.

“What are.. Fine! Go!” Blorbus stretched up over the crate and fired in rapid succession. He tried to group his shots to make them count and he did get one, no, two of the pirates making their way down the ramp.

Meanwhile, in the blink of an eyestalk, the interloper had crossed the distance between the pirates and the remaining sluggat before barrelling into the group of Pirates. Too close to properly use the heavy weapon, the slug with the Rock Launcher fired wildly, the white clothed creature slapping the thing aside and grasping the poor Sluggat’s eyestalks. Blorbus nearly vomited for the third time today as the things were promptly removed from the body with sickening ease as it yanked hard.

The creature received a shot to the back from a pirate that had laid in wait just inside the ship’s cargo door. Blorbus flinched and tried to help by firing again, but his gun clicked. As he reloaded he winced as he came to the realisation that the poor thing was as good as dead!

Instead, it swung the two eye stalks, who’s previous owner was now firing wildly with his Rock Launcher which was, unfortunately, now aimed into the ship, rather than away. 

Chaos ensued.

The backstabber pirate received a bloody swipe with the stalks which was enough to cause him to drop his gun. This was retrieved by the vac-suit creature who in turn put three shots into the surrounding survivors. It stood there a moment, heaving up and down in a strange display that made no sense to the once assistant quartermaster, now official quartermaster.

It pushed in deeper into the ship and out of sight.

Blorbus, whilst wanting to help it, had to do what he could for his fallen colleagues. Some were too far gone, others were alive and could be saved. He had to help, he had to save one or what was the point?

====

The report that was presented to the quadrant’s director that week was an interesting read.

A fanatic splinter group of pirates had learnt of an ‘easy’ target. Not of an undefended Station, but of a lone human with no backup or guardians. In their misguided belief that the stars belonged to Slug-Kind, they were to make an example of both the human and the Station that housed it.

What followed, if the report was to be believed, was a close quarter firefight that rendered an entire dock unusable until literal lakes of sodium were cleared with the only survivors being a young, but now up and coming sluggat and the human in question.

Eye witness reports from the station's own media centre stated that upon its arrival, the Human had courted and pursued a young adult, female-presenting, sluggat that had returned his flirtations. They had retreated to his rooms, where, when he re-emerged, had a death-wish level need to defend his new apparent mate. He apparently remained referring to himself as male, and likewise the sluggat, one ‘Blarah’, retained her female identifications. It was summarised the human had successfully pierced her with his love and when presented with the idea his mate was in danger was compelled to defend her.

The dock worker who had fought valiantly and proved himself was placed into officer training. His future was considered quite bright after defending a political target with everything he had. 

Slaughtered the whole raiding party nearly on his own if the Human was to be believed.

The humans had requested several times to be allowed to serve aboard The Galactic Community’s military ships, but until now it was assumed they would not fight with the ferocity needed in a military capacity. If this civilian was willing to fight this hard for a mate and was evidence that they weren’t above getting involved with sluggats as a whole? 

The Community was now believing it was worth considering.

====

Several weeks had passed and the pain was too much to bear any more, for either of them.

Blarah stood at the bottom of the transport’s ramp, staring up and the comfortingly wet eyes of her human. The human that she could never hold, or touch, or have a family with. The Human that was moments from leaving.

“...Maybe there's something we missed?” She deluded herself.

“There’s not, my darling.” A gloved hand ran across her face, along the pitted scars that covered a Human sized part of her body.

“Our love is… impossible. You are amazing and kind and deserve every ounce of happiness you can endure.”

He swallowed.

“But the only way I can ensure that you find the right person, is to let you go.”

She knew he was right. His body was too dangerous, too alluring. It seemed their whole physiology was designed around drawing her in like a sweet smelling flower, only to brutally melt her into nothing once she had fallen in too deep.

He had explained about his secretions. All of them. They had tried to work around it and failed.

She sighed again and pressed her body against his sealed Vacuum Suit.

“Forbidden love.” A mirthless chuckle. “Figures.”

During his time here, Greg had taught her to be bold and to fight for what she wanted. This wouldn’t break her, nor spoil her from finding another mate. But she’d never forget that Human who had given her such a thrill for such a short flash of her life.

He told her he wouldn’t look back. He couldn’t or he might fail. She hoped he would and hoped he wouldn't. His happiness meant as much to her as hers was to him.

“You ready, you great big brute?” The yellowish Sluggat said as he slid up to Greg.

A sniff, a blink and a hard swallow.

“Yeah, of course Blorbus! Lets get moving.” He said in a fake cheery tone, never taking his eyes of Blarah, who returned his gaze with her own. Him and Blorbus had become fast friends, their near-death experiences providing the bedrock of a steady friendship. Greg hesitated.

‘Go’ she mouthed, not making a sound.

He turned and lumbered away and up the ramp. He kept his promise and didn’t stop moving into the ship until he disappeared from sight.

The apes were dangerous, but they could be kind and soft too.

They ‘undulated’ in their own solid way but Blarah had to admit; it was still really, really weird.

Fin.

[inkdemonapologist]

How do you feel about the upcoming DCTL graphic novel?

Cautiously optimistic!

When I first heard the rumours, before Adrienne’s announcement, I had pretty mixed feelings. My background is in comics, like that’s what I went to school for and worked on semi-professionally for years, and I love it as a storytelling medium, so I’m really intrigued to see how they handle the adaptation…and I also really, really don’t envy whoever has to make decisions on how to depict these characters.

But the announcement is encouraging! I haven’t kept up with Chris Hastings’ more recent work, but I remember enjoying Dr. McNinja back in the day, so I have to admit there’s something exciting about seeing a name I recognise and can be hopeful about to do a good job with the adaptation. Checking out the artist’s work, I’m gonna put a lot of my poker chips on “Sammy will look really normal actually,” but I don’t think that’s a dealbreaker – like, Dober’s Sammy is a big fav as far as Sammy designs go, and I think he’s a good example of how you can still get great Sammy vibes in a more conventionally attractive face. (though i also think there’s a chance of “the artist will lean fully into his unhinged vibes and make Sammy look like a batman villain” so wE’LL SEE!!) Genuinely, the artist’s portfolio seems well-suited to this. I would’ve pictured DCTL with a rougher, more indie look if you asked me to pick a fitting style, but I think this artist's slick Western-Comic-Book style with its strong spot blacks could be a REAL good fit for the inky vibes this story demands, and they don’t have the level of “sameface” that I’d usually be concerned about with these kinds of styles; there’s enough solid variation in their character art that I believe they can handle all the characters needed, and also do a cool ink demon.

DCTL does have some design questions that are genuinely pretty fraught, in that there's no perfect way to handle it (Norman’s a great example; do you take someone that 80% of the fandom has been drawing as a black man for years and make him canonically white, or do you present the Weirdo Creeping Around In The Shadows Who Mysteriously Gives The Protags Supernatural Info And Then Dies At The End And Nobody Misses Him as canonically a person of colour??? ROUGH CHOICE I DO NOT ENVY), but I'm still so curious to see designs for these guys, and my big hope is that the fandom will be understanding of the huge task the creators have been given and that this won't be regarded with the pressure of getting “The Official Canon Design That I'll Be Mad If It Josses My Interpretation” – like, getting an official Henry & non-old-man Joey in BatDR just felt like, y’know, seeing anyone in the fandom make a new set of designs. It feels like drawing fanart of the BatDR AU; it doesn’t mean my henry and joey designs are Obsolete. And I hope these designs are enjoyed from that perspective, as a new DCTL Comic AU, and that the fandom takes whatever we get as less THIS HAS TO MATCH MY PERCEPTION OF SAMMY B/C ITS THE OFFICIAL REAL SAMMY and more just, a take on a design for Sammy Lawrence.

Though of course I can’t help but be a little more anxious about Sammy specifically, haha. He is my big fav after all, and as embarrassing as he is in DCTL it has become a part of his story I’m quite attached to. A lot of humanity could be added to him or taken away depending on how he’s drawn… I don’t want to get my hopes up, but it’s hard not to hope that he’ll have Good Sammy Vibes that Resonate With Me Specifically.

And in general, my expectations are still tempered – the comic could certainly turn out to be very mediocre, especially depending on how well the artist is paid and how much time the creators can afford to put into it – but tbh I’m super interested in how this turns out. I can’t wait to see Joey in this style and it’ll be SURREAL to see a comic of like……. BatIM humans…… I’ve wanted sincere visual content about the humans for a long time and I’m stunned we’re actually getting it, so I’m feeling kinda cautiously eager!! I’m also curious if the comic will make an effort to preserve Buddy’s “voice” from the original novel, and how that will be handled – like, the whole book is really strongly framed as being written by Buddy, and that’s not just an incidental detail; it fleshes out his feelings about Dot, ambiguously gives us info on Boris without directly revealing the ending, and shapes the way he presents some moments as unreliable and time jumping strangely – he even talks about the frustration of not being able to just draw these things and having to describe them! (RELATABLE) – but at the same time, just filling a whole comic with tons of narration boxes is not usually a great artistic choice. It’s a really interesting challenge for the adaptation, and I’m curious if they’ll shift away from the framing device altogether or look for a balance to keep it.

Anyway TL;DR I’m keeping my expectations low but I’m really intrigued!! I don’t know if I’ll, like, actually acquire it; I usually don’t buy JDS Inc. stuff, but I feel more wibbly about the books in general b/c of how strongly I appreciate Adrienne Kress specifically, so we’ll see how I’m feeling when it comes out, haha.

[yael-things]

oooo you drew mer passione! what are their outfits like and what color are their tails

OK HELLO FIRST OF ALL. BRUNO'S HAIRCLIPS ARE CHITONS .

if u want an actually good mermaid design that r BEAUTIFUL, look at this !!!

i did my own little design things, but tbh i didnt think that much abt color and also im nit that much of a mermaid connoscieur or however u spell that .

also my apologies i dont rly Know anything abt these kinds of algaes i put down, i just know what they look like. as far as i was able to find theyre not poisonous so the gang Should be fine !

abbacchio

- little purple thing on his head? starfish !! yeah its weird . but it looks cute

- honestly shouldve thought more abt the clothing, just came up with tightly roped together dark algae !

mista

- his hat is just an actual hat he found

- his sweater is like a mesh shirt made of algae !! i forgor the type but uh dark green / blue with red algae accents by the wrists

- his little choker thing is also red algae

fugo

- red algae necklace !! sometimes he ties little pretty pieces of coral to some of the necklaces he made (pls excuse this if its absolute nonsense mermaid enjoyers)

- knitted sea grass suit, mostly tied together . he still managed to keep his little suit holes

narancia

- macro cystis algae bandana macro cystis algae bandana !!!!

- his hip thingies (the pieces of the skirt that stick out on top of the belt) are little parts of corals he plucked out and wrapped together with dark green algae, then added macro cystis and red algae accents

- starfish instead of belt buckle on his shirt !! ik that starfishes are a weird animal to wear (arent they crawing heads that use their lips to move) but pls excuse that !

- his arm warmer thingies are a mixture of red algae of various kinds (thinner)

bruno

- his lingerie is made of braided filamentous algae

- his hair pins are chitons (couldnt find a specific species ...)

- instead of zippers, i ended up caving in an adding shells that are braided together by algae

- his little bracelet is of small pieces of shells braided together with algae

- the things on top of his head were going to be sea dollars but that is straight up a living thing. or a carcass. which ohhhh no . so i'll just leave it as either those flatter shells or just a braid !

i rly didnt think abt the colors and tail designs ... i dont have a knack or enough experience !! i hope u enjoy this though :))

[wordiestbird]

So I finished Kamen Rider Decade the other day...

And I do indeed have some thoughts about it, both as a whole and how it adds some interesting character to Tsuaka's whole deal in Zi-O (and I should really re-watch that at some point too). Thoughts below the read more, spoilers abound as you might expect.

[bunny-rambles]

Hey there, hope u dont forget that you're a wonderful beautiful smart adorable person.

I mean, how could u when ur lucky enough to see such a person on a daily basis in your mirror, right?

But enough of me telling all this obvious things, csn I please ask u something?

If not interested, thats perfectly fine. Thats just me being my random self and torturing my favorite writers/artist with my silly questions.

How do u think, which colours will suit Rubedo the most?

Sorry if its too random, but, ah- why not try and ask, right?I feel like im repeating myself-

Im personaly think that green and grey would match him quite well if they would take a part in his design.

(I hc him having green eyes instead of red, thats why)

Thats all, have a nice life, bun. And keep being your-awesome-self, 'key?

sorry for this being super late, tbh this one got buried under notifs and it’s the first time I’ve seen this (or if I saw it before I completely forgot about it)

first of all, thank you for your very sweet words <33

second - hm, well, I always saw silver to be a very fitting colour. since albedo is gold, I think ig would be thematically accurate for ruby to be the ‘silver’ of the two, so maybe instead of the golden decorative metal pieces albedo has, instead they’d be a different shape and in silver on ruby’s outfit.

Another colour I associated him with is red, for obvious reasons, both from the fact he’s closely linked with durins heart and because of the crimson agate in drsgonspine, not to mention the nickname I gave him is also a red precious jewel. His name, Rubedo, quite literally means the reddening

Now, I’ve heard Rubedo is actually called Dorian, and although I love the fact it relates to Dorian’s portrait, I’m still clinging to the ruby agenda, it’s just such a precious name and I think it’s fitting <33

green eyes instead of blue though is something I agree with - maybe not bright green but subtle, like a deep turquoise compared to albedos aquamarine ones

[stiricidewrites]

The Damage You Do: ch 19, pt 2

Hope everyone is having a good weekend! I'll be back on Tuesday! Enjoy the starts of your weeks!

Previously

~

“One of my apartments,” lwj said, his steps taking them first into a large, semi-open concept living room—wwx could see the kitchen tucked into a separate room, but this room seemed to be a living-dining room combo. It didn’t appear to have a tv, though, from his brief glance around before they were disappearing down a hall.

They passed several doors, one that wwx swore was stained a slightly redder colour than the others, which were more of a blackish purple. There were still several more doors further down the hall, before lwj turned into one, pushing the door open with his foot.

The bedroom they entered was, to put it lightly, huge. wwx imagined he could fit the entirety of his living space into this bedroom—definitely, if he took into consideration the ensuite that lwj carried him into next. wwx was sure the bathroom alone was the size of both his and A-Yuan’s bedrooms combined. With its frankly ridiculous amount of floor space, it reminded him of a bathroom you’d see in a teen movie, opulent and perfect for makeovers at sleepovers. Indeed, on one wall were two long stretches of mirrors and counters, nearly a dozen seats tucked under the counters, as though someone—wwx assumed it had not been lwj—had once hosted such parties in this room. Between the long counters was an entrance to what appeared to be a walk-in closet… with a beaded curtain separating it from the bathroom itself.

wwx stared at the curtain, cheap and sparkly and purple—which, he realized with something between horror and amusement, was the colour theme of the bathroom. When was the last time this place had been renovated? It looked like something you’d find in the 80s—maybe even before that. He was sure he’d seen people online reno their bathrooms to look like this—at exuberant prices. lwj definitely had the type of money that could finance this kind of retro aesthetic, but wwx didn’t think his dom, with his nice suits and perfect office, was the type to enjoy this kind of over the top design.

There had been that desk, though, the one in lwj’s office that had seemed so out of place in the otherwise modern aesthetic, wwx remembered as he was set down into what might as well have been a cloud. Plushy, soft, bliss. Plus, thinking back on it, the living-dining room they’d walked through hadn’t seemed a clean cut, modern style either, but he’d only seen it for a moment. Who knew, maybe his dom actually had a weird aesthetic preference hiding inside him—he definitely had some weird sex preferences, after all.

“Stay,” his dom whispered as he let go. “I will not go far,” he assured wwx before he had even had the chance to register the sudden rise of panic at being separated from lwj—panic that would have had him surging after the man if he hadn’t already been assured he wasn’t going to be left alone.

Okay, maybe he was out of subspace but still clingy as fuck. It was lucky for him that his dom seemed perfectly content to let him be clingy, even if some things—such as stripping out of his own clothes, probably so they could bathe—would be extremely difficult with a person attached to you.

wwx made a mental note to force his dom to try one day, though. To stay so attached on to the man that everything would be impossibly difficult for him—to see if he could make the man break with his clinginess.

”That just seems like a great way to induce a panic attack when you’re soft and he freaks out at you,” a little voice hissed at him, although, as per usual, he brushed the little voice aside.

”I laugh in the face of danger!” he shot back at the sensible part of him as it fell off a cliff—not a huge cliff, just big enough that it would take a few hours of his common sense to find its way back. Luckily, he had lwj to keep him safe for at least a bit longer—a lot longer, if their previous interactions in a bathroom were anything to go by.

~

A/N: Another bathroom. Shocking. This shower scene won't last as long... maybe. Even if it does, it'll be different, I swear!

What do you think, though? Did lwj choose the style of this bathroom, or is there some story behind it?

[averagek]

ARTISTIC VISION

The life of average Singaporeans are extremely vapid. Its all manufactured by the fear instilled upon us by our society that if we do not get one of the prestigious jobs in the country, we would be labeled a disgrace in the eye of our relatives and a loser amongst our peers. Hence, we are all product of this fear and it is this fear that singapore has a non-existent art scene as however revolutionary we try to we as a modern society are, singaporeans are still avoiding creative careers like the plague or attaching an unnecessary stigma to the creative industry. One ill advice i have received from a subject tutor I used to have is to ‘’choose money over passion’’. In this context the money is always a high income job and passion is always creative related. Creative endeavors has always been seen as something at the bottom that nett low yield. This is such a primitive mindset that has no place in modern era but has somehow perpetuated and infected a portion of people today still. 

a light box advertisement calling out Singaporeans for being cowards for sticking to the primitive culture of Singapore from reddit sub r/singapore.

One of my artistic visions is to be in the forefront of solidifying the design scene in singapore. To be an inspiration to aspiring local designers in the future. To be part of an artistic movement and bring about progressive artistic change to the country, encouraging younger people to take up creative careers and to break loose from the ugly narrative that has painted creative fields in a negative light. As what my friend who is also my senior in lasalle told me: ‘’be the change you want to be’’. Though i always scoff at that, it is an inspiring encouragement nonetheless. 

I remember my lecturer, Edmund, showed us this design campaign ''Made in Asia'', where the project was to highlight & support asian businesses which eventually won the New Blood Award from D&AD. I was amazed that local designers could win such an accolade. It was so inspiring to me and made me want to do better. I hope that one day I could inspire future younger designers, maybe not with an award but an inspiration nonetheless.

One example of id like to bring up is the support skittles have gave this year during pride month. It is well known that companies would come up with antics such as coming up with products slapped with meaningless rainbow that would eventually end up in landfills as unsold liability. These are usually corporate hypocrisy disguised in the name of inclusion. 

However, what skittles has done is much more than just selling. Skittles stripped off their corporate identity, the rainbow colour of their candies to a monotone grey in favour of the LGBTQ+ rainbow. While they could have stopped at the packaging, they went further and did the same for the actual candies. The intention behind is to convey the message that the brand is giving up their corporate identity in order to elevate the LGBTQ+ community by inviting queer artists to design the packaging. Not only that, the brand is going one step further by donating a portion of their income to a queer non-profit and many more.

every colour stripped down.

queer artist's artwork designed on the packaging for Pride month.

Skittles has placed themselves in the forefront of a movement that is generally frowned upon and  demonstrated what it really means to practice inclusion as a company and have set the bar high for others to follow. Using their brand name and utilizing design to empower, elevate and grow a community is worth commanding for and it is in my hopes that other companies will follow suit. And it is in my hopes that one day i can contribute to the local design scene and inspire others to follow their creative endevour. 

[chanstopher]

9 YEAR OLD DREAMY WAS IN LOVE WITH GRAYSON??? i actually almost choked on air reading that because when i was 8-10 i had a phat crush on robin/dick from young justice season 1; this is so funny skdjfhj i think there's been a variety of fandoms i've been in but the dc + marvel ones were the longest. i also loved littlest petshop, gen rex, ben 10 etc. but my iron man craze was literally the worst. can you believe that i had all 44 iron mans (the designs) memorized by name when i was 12? it's absolutely mindblowing thinking of that for me, i can barely remember my friends' names now djdjfkfj also hiii hope you are having a lovely day today ❣️ the flamin' hot cheeto look was a really fun one, if i'm being honest and yes! changbin looks so nice with light hair... my favourite binnie remains go-saeng era bin though, the ash blue/grey hair and slight mullet suited him a lot! i personally love natural hair on everyone but my preferred hair colour has always been a deep purple, like the one minho had a while back! whenever any of my biases get the grape hair is when i think they look the prettiest⏤my favourite gem is amethyst and that shade reminds me of the geode a lot, especially once it starts fading towards the pastels, it's like it's fading from the crystals to the chalcedony :D others i love are silver/lychee hair, blueberry hair, peach hair etc. hehe oh you're so cute :c i am more of a person whose love language is acts of service + gift giving so i often end up remembering the most absolutely trivial things concerning my friends, which has extended to my biases jfkjkgjd a few things i associate with them is: the stars (cliche but i once heard someone say to another person that their freckles were like specks of stardust & constellations in the night sky somewhere and that stuck with me for felix once i saw him after that!), guitars, berries, bandaids, skateboards, cooking/baking, cats, trace chain necklaces, sweaters, garlic (LOL) and little envelopes! soem of these are things i've seen them with and the others are like. this will sounds so weird but what i smell/taste/feel/picture when i think of them? it only happens with a few people though and the funniest thing is my ult isn't one of them KLDJDSJ but yeah jeongin is the one with which it does happen! what's your favourite food? and what is some fun activity you'd like to try out with chan if you had the chance to? - 🌨

hi my love! sorry im always so swamped during the weekends im like brain dead lmao

omg young justice was SO good the fact that it got cancelled was such a crushing part of my childhood, it was so perfect but just cause girls liked it they trashed it :( i fully support u memorizing all of iron mans suits, i always go into fandoms like that lmao if i really like something i was to be an encyclopedia of knowledge on it. i used to be that way about lord of the rings but a lot of that info has absolutely leaked out of my brain since i was a kid so now it just pops up randomly and im like how do i know this still???

purple is ALWAYS such a good color, its so sad to me that chris had purple hair for liek a week because its always SUCH a pretty color and i agree it was ESPECIALLY amazing on minho for maniac era, it really suited him! i do wish minho got to have more hairstyles, i feel like he either gets a coconut or coconut but you can see his forehead lol and i think he could pull off anything so i always wonder why they dont really do anything else most of the time.

omg i love remembering little insignificant facts about ppl, i always find that those are the things that make people feel so loved. the amount of times ive gotten something or mentioned something to my best friend that i know she likes it always surprises her cause she doesnt even remember telling me the fact, but im like its about you so it was important to me to remember. I also love gift giving for that reason, cause im not someone to do something super big or elaborate, but i'll get a couple tiny things that i know mean something to someone or that really remind me of them and it always feels nice, like im sharing a piece of how i see them with them.

my favorite food is easily tacos lol i love tacos so much that my best friend has a taco tattoo for me! and i like all kinds of tacos from the garbage taco bell ones to really good authentic street tacos, just something about them i find really comforting I don't know lol but yeah theyre definitely my favorite.

oh god this is massively cheesy but if i could literally do anything with chris it would to be to drive to the middle of nowhere and go stargazing. like just forget everything else and just tell each other stories about the constellations with nothing else around to bother us. i think that would be the most ideal thing to me.

[imagine-that-100]

Good Boy

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You get your period just before you’re due to go to an award show with the boys. Whilst the pain never dulls when you’re there, your fiancé’s affection certainly eases it and so do his cuddles when he drags you back home. 

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This was requested by @ghostlightqueen​. Hope you enjoy it and I hope the rest of you do to. This is pretty fluffy and it was so cute to write up. Likes and Reblog are appreciated and as always thank you so much for reading x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You feeling any better?” Adam asks, after giving you a hug as he joins you back at the table.

You were currently at an award show with the boys that Matty had pleaded with you to come to. You’d not been to one of these events in years and you’d planned not to go to one again.

But this one was a smaller one than the others you’d been to. You weren’t all put on TV at this one and you weren’t in the O2, so you agreed you’d come.

Initially when you got up this morning and saw how excited Matty was to get ready for these awards, you yourself were looking forward to it. You were excited to wear your new teal pant suit that Matty had then designed his own outfit around and you were excited to see your fiancé perform again, even if it was just for one song.

You’d been swamped with work, so you’d unfortunately only made it to one show this tour. But now it was the end of them touring and you had your boys back around you, you were excited to see them up on stage again.

But then an hour before you were due to head off to the awards, your fucking period started.

You sort of knew it was coming because you had that icky feeling in your stomach all day, but you were hoping it was just the sensations you sometimes felt the day before it arrived.

But that was not to be.

You felt awful as the first few days of your period typically left you feeling. The fact you had to go out and wear heels and be nice to people you didn’t know didn’t make the feeling of your insides being scrambled, as you described it to Matty, any easier.

After assuring him you’d be fine after the painkillers had kicked in, you all headed off to the awards. And despite the painkillers barely helping you, you’d had a good night.

You got to see some lovely people you hadn’t seen for a while like the Pale Waves gang and Rome and Bea. You’d become quite good friends with Heather over the years so you always loved seeing her.

And of course, you got to spend the evening with your boys.

They won the award they were up for and they even got an award they didn’t know they were up for, for the Drive Like I Do album. And you had always adored seeing them perform.

Matty had truly grown into the role of a frontman and the way he worked an audience truly astounded you. The way the fans responded to him back when the first album came out astounded you, but the fact the audiences were still just as thirsty for him now made you laugh.

And you knew he loved it and played it to his advantage.

So, after the two songs they were asked to perform were done they slowly but surely made their way back over to you.

“A little, thanks Ad” You smile before sitting back down in your seat.

You weren’t feeling any better at all though, despite taking more painkillers about an hour ago. But thankfully the awards had nearly finished, and you had another lot of painkillers with you to take at the after party.

You knew Matty was excited to go to it as it had been a while since he’d attended one of these events. Especially with all of his friends being invited to come as well.

So, for him, you didn’t mind grin and bearing the pain. Even more so because he dressed himself to match you.

You were in a darker teal pantsuit and you had an orange low cut blouse on underneath it, with a matching pair of orange heels. Believe it or not, the colours did go really well together and immediately when Matty saw you in it he whipped out his casual orange suit, or as casual as an orange suit can get.

He borrowed a teal shirt and he somehow made it work. You probably both looked like muppets with his short mohican and your hair left to naturally fall around your shoulders.

But you both looked fit so you couldn’t care less. He could pull any combination off and always look incredible; you were envious of him in that respect.

But at least you could call him yours.

“How you feeling Sweetheart?” Matty asks coming straight back over to you when he escapes his conversation.

When he caught you routing for painkillers before you changed into your teal suit earlier, he could tell straight away that you didn’t feel well. And he knew exactly the reason why from how you carried yourself.

He was gutted for you because he knew you were excited to dress up for the first time in ages. Matty didn’t mind you not coming, and he said you didn’t have to, but you shot that down straight away.

You knew how much he wanted you there despite him acting like he didn’t. And he was your fiancé so you were going.

“Yeah okay, thank you” You smile and lean in for a quick kiss. “Well done, you were amazing”

He retakes his seat and says, with a concerned look in his eye, “Thank you… Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Promise I’m fine” You lie.

You felt like you were that Mortal Kombat character that had that worm thing bursting out of its chest. But instead of whatever it was bursting out of your chest it was trying to murder your uterus.

Uncomfortable was an understatement and the fact you weren’t drinking was worse. You told Matty you didn’t mind driving tonight as you knew he liked to have a few glasses of wine at these things.

You sort of wish you had the alcohol to dull your pain a bit more but you’d rather Matty have a good time. You’d take Matty’s alcohol induced affection as a distraction over alcohol every single time though.

You adored him so much. You were so glad you were going to marry him.

The day really couldn’t come soon enough.

The fact you were marrying him though was another reason that you didn’t want to ruin his night. Not because you didn’t want to upset him but because you didn’t want to burden him with thinking you wanted to leave when you actually didn’t.

So that was why you kept how you were feeling under wraps. And you managed that into the afterparty but of course when you excused yourself Matty wanted to find you not 2 minutes after you left his side.

He was certain he saw you head out the front. Matty assumed to answer a phone call as you didn’t smoke anymore, and the toilets were in the opposite direction.

So Matty tipsily headed out that way into the foyer of the venue you were in. And he spotted you in that stunning teal suit straight away.

But instead of being stood on your phone looking like an amazingly sassy businesswoman, you were crouched down leaning against a nearby wall with your head in your hands. And that shocked and scared Matty to his core.

He rushed over to you immediately and asked, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You head flew up immediately hearing Matty’s voice and Matty managed to take a breath of relief seeing you weren’t crying. You looked fine which confused Matty as he didn’t know why you were leaning against the wall looking like you were in pain.

Oh.

You were in pain.

“Hey” You smile and stand yourself back up on your orange heels. Before he can ask when he gets closer you assure him, ”I’m fine, I’m fine”

“No, you’re not” Matty shakes his head, looking at you with sad eyes.

You nod, trying to persuade him, “I am, I swear”

But Matty knows you better than that.

“What’s wrong?” Matty asks seeing if you’d be honest.

“Nothing’s wrong”

So Matty asks again, “What’s wrong?”

“My stomach is just cramping but I’m fine” You assure him, fixing he lapels on his orange blazer.

“You’re not”

“I am”

“You’re in pain, yes or no?”

“Matty” You sigh.

“Yes or no?”

You give in, “Yes but-“

“Then we'll leave. Just you and me” Matt says taking your hand and pulling you towards the exit.

You pull back against him, “Matty no. It's fine… You wanted to stay with Bea, Rome, Heather... I don’t mind staying.”

“Sweetheart, I literally just caught you crouched on the ground in pain” Matty chuckles, shaking his head at your blatant lie.

“I wasn’t in pain, I was seeing how my suit would fix itself” You tell him and gesture down at the teal material, “Looks pretty good”

“You always look pretty good but I’m not as fucking thick as you think I am.” Matty grins shaking his head at you before pulling you into a hug. “You used to be such a better liar”

“I’ve not got any secrets from you anymore.” You chuckle a little.

“You didn’t need to have any from me anyway.” Matty pulls you into a hug, and he presses a kiss to your head before he says, “You know I’ve adored you since we met, could tell me you buried a body and I’d of kept my mouth shut”

“Speaking of... I might need help moving the body later” You grin, pulling back a little so you're still standing close, your arms hanging loose around his neck.

“See I may believe you, but you’ve got mad period pain so I think we‘ll move the body next week” Matty chuckles, playing along.

You giggle at that and you move away from him so you can both head back towards the party. But Matty grabs your hand, “Where are you going?”

“Back in there” You point back to the doors that the party was hiding behind.

“No we're going home, come on” Matty pulls you back.

“Matty it’s fine, I know you wanna stay” You say genuinely.

You truly didn’t mind staying. You’d certainly had worse period pain and gone about normally.

You didn’t need to leave a party early.

“I want my stunning wife to be, to get into her pyjamas and be comfortable as her ‘insides are scrambling’, as you so poetically put it.” Matty tells you with a cheeky grin, “And I want to make her feel better in any way I can. ”

You tell him honestly, with the most genuine look, “Matty, I don't mind staying.”

“I literally want to go home.” Matty tells you, his eyebrows raised to emphasise his point.

You grin when you quote his lyrics at him, “Do you wanna leave at the same time?”

“Right, that's literally about dying... And I know you’re not that dramatic” Matty says pulling you back into his arms and you half hug half dance your way down the hall towards the car park.

When you get back home you immediately change into your pyjamas per Matty’s instructions. He brought you a drink and painkillers up to your bedroom and once he watched you take them, he went and got himself ready for bed.

After showering and quickly drying his hair he came back into your bedroom to find you lay in the centre of your large bed. You’d left room for him either side of you as you, but you looked so comfy Matty was almost hesitant to join you.

“You look like you feel better” Matty grins seeing you looking a bit better in yourself.

You smile at him, “Definitely feel better now I’m lay down”

“That’s good”

“Think I’d feel even better if I got a cuddle” You suggest with a cheeky grin and raised eyebrows.

“Lucky I’m available to give you that, isn’t it?” Matty chuckles, pulling the covers back to get into bed.

You raise your arms to him, so he knows to come to you. You wanted him close and you wanted to hold him.

If that meant you being used as a body pillow, then so be it.

Matty slotted himself right beside you and he lay his head on the top of your chest, so his head was tucked just under your chin. An immediate surge of warmth came over you when he settled himself in your embrace.

Your arms instantly went around his bare back and as you kept one on his smooth skin, your other instinctively travelled to his hair. It was still warm to touch from the hairdryer he used on his now short locks, and his body was still toasty from the heat of his shower.

It really helped dull the last ache that your period brought to you. Matty was like your personal hot water bottle.

You hum as you close your eyes and hug him a little tighter. “You’re really warm”

“That‘s unusual for me so enjoy it whilst it lasts” Matty hugs you a little tighter then.

You giggle knowing it was true and you do, you even tuck the duvet higher up his back, so he stayed toasty warm above you.

“Matty” You say, still repeatedly running your fingers through his short hair at the top of his head.

You feel Matty hum against your chest, “Yes Sweetheart?”

“Will you do me a favour please?” You smile, your eyes still closed, enjoying the closeness.

“Course.” Your fiancé says, picking his head up from your chest to look up at your gorgeous face, “Do you need me to go get you some chocolate? A McDonalds maybe, I know the twenty nuggets is sort of your comfort food these days”

You grin at him then, “You're adorable, but no.” You shake your head, “You don't need to go anywhere for anything”

“Then what can I do for you?” Matty asks, tilting his head to the side and his gorgeous brown eyes shined curiously.

“Can you stop shaving your curls off please?” You plead with a smile tugging at your lips, “I really miss my curly”

Matty grins feeling you still running your fingers through what locks he has left. “I’m right here, I'm no different because they’re gone”

“I know…” You grin, and you guide his head back down to resting on your chest so he’s as comfy as you, “Just miss messing with your longer hair sometimes”

“I miss you messing with it too.” Matty says lovingly, placing a kiss to your skin “I'll grow it back out for you, I promise”

You giggle a little then as each time he’d cut his hair over the years you’d scorned him for it and he’d taken no notice. You weren't expecting him to actually agree with you now but you were certainly glad he had.

“Thank you, my lovely” You grin. “And thanks for tonight”

“What do you mean? I’ve not done anything?” Matty asks, a little confused.

Your voice slows as you tell him, “Thank you for our cute matching outfits, that was really adorable. And for taking me with you, I'm really glad you won, and you know I love watching you perform. And for coming home and looking after me, you really didn't have to, but I really appreciate it”

“You know I’d do anything for you Sweetheart... And I'd rather you feel better and be in bed with you than stick around at an after party anyway” Matty tells you grabbing your hand that wasn't messing with his hair and he placed a kiss to the back of it.

“You’re far too good for me” You grin before you quickly lean down and place a kiss to the start of his head.

“You’re right, I did just win another award” Matty jokes and he only starts laughing when you hit him over the head playfully.

“I’m joking” He giggles, “I love you”

“I love you more Matty” You say and reach up above your head to flick the light switch off.

After a minute of just silently enjoying the other's closeness, Matty asks you quietly, “What time do you want to go and pick up our child from my Mum‘s tomorrow?”

You giggle at that question and say, “You know I was talking about our child to Y/B/F and she stopped me and questioned it thinking she’d gone into a coma for a year or something and missed us having a kid”

“Has she not heard us call Mayhem our kid since the day we went and got him?” Matty asks a little shocked.

Matty remembered the day you got him, and he’d fully said he was a practice child for you both in the future.

“Apparently not” You giggle, still messing with your fiancé’s hair.

Y/B/F has definitely been living under a rock.

Matty’s chuckles settle after a moment and he says, “Bed’s a little comfier without him laying on me if I'm honest”

“I’d say I’d agree but I'm practically in the same situation” You grin to yourself, still practically stroking his head.

“Aw that's nasty” Matty all but pouts.

“Or is it? He’s cute, you’re cute. He’s fluffy and you’re fluffy when you have more hair” You’re smiling like an idiot as you list all these things off, “You like biscuits, he likes biscuits. You cuddle up to me in bed and so does Mayhem. And you both give me good morning kisses”

Matty picks his head up and looks at you through the darkness, asking, “Is this the part where you say you’re marrying our dog instead of me?”

“I would but the invitations have already been printed and that would be a lot of money to change and update everyone” You joke, and you can see in the dim light that shines through your curtains that his jaw drops.

He gasps, “Nasty bitch”

“Mayhem’s a boy, he can’t be a bitch” You joke, thinking you’re funny.

Matty chuckles, kissing the side of your neck, “I meant you”

“That’s no way to speak to your fiancé Healy” You grin, liking the gentle kiss he placed on your neck. “Especially when she’s on her period”

Matty hums against your neck then and you hear him say, “Don’t cry on me now”

You roll your eyes at that. It wasn’t often you cried over a conversation with Matty when you were on your period, so you knew he was being dramatic. But you knew your man, you could play on the drama and he’d eat it up.

“I might do you know” You sniffle as if you’re getting upset.

Matty giggles into your neck a little then and you're smiling, still playing with his hair. Matty coos, despite knowing you’re joking, “Don’t do that”

You fake another shaky inhale, “I’ll try”

“Awwww” Matty pouts before pecking his way back down your collarbone and onto the top of your chest before resting his head there again.

You play the victim and press on, “What do you say to your poor wife to be who didn’t deserve that”

“Sorry Sweetheart” Matty chuckles before placing another kiss onto your skin.

You just can't stop grinning like an idiot. He literally was just putting in your hands and you loved him for being so soft with you.

“That's right… Such a good boy” You continue with your final dog similarity joke and pat his head.

Both you and Matty just lie there in bed giggling away like fools in love.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You can add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

[chibimyumi]

Redesign Prompt RESULTS!

Alright, thank you everyone who has voted, the results are now in! Overwhelmingly our winner is Ranmao 🐈!

First of all, I need to insert a few caveats here. Unlike with Victorian fashion, I do not have years and years of studying of Qing dynasty-fashion behind me. So whatever results I show here are the product of a fortnight of reading up and meticulous studying of contemporary photographs. a.k.a. I am merely scraping the surface here. But! I do promise that everything shown here is done to the best of my ability to be responsible as a content provider.

Now without further ado, let us dive into Ranmao’s current design, the blatantly obvious inaccuracies, and how I propose to redes...ign... her outfit while keeping the original intact as much.... as possible????  Heck, this is not even worthy of being called a ‘redesign’, this is straight up designing from scratch!

Hair

Let us start with her bangs. Her bangs are in fact surprisingly accurate, as late Qing dynasty women would wear their bangs in a variety of Bettie bangs trimmed well above the eyebrows. Having sides of the bangs growing longer framing the face was usual too, though they would be cut slightly thicker than Ranmao’s. Though, we don’t know how much hair Ranmao has, so I see no reason to alter it.

Twin braids are very much associated with the “China doll look”, but they seem to have been branded into our image of the “Chinese Girl” because it was the go-to look for unmarried women in Republic China (which is many years later than Ranmao’s time, and also has more surviving images.)

In Ranmao’s time, unmarried girls would either wear the bottom part of their hair down, or have everything tied into a single braid behind them. Girls who preferred a more feminine look would often decorate the sides or the top with flowers or other ornaments depending on their wealth.

Yana’s notes say that the flower in Ranmao’s hair is a Chinese peony, which is also called the Empress of Flowers in Chinese as well as Japanese culture. I could find sources on how the peony was the symbol of the Empress of China, and how one better avoid wearing any type of peonies around the Empress herself for fear of being suspected of disrespect. But I could not find any evidence of such flowers being banned for other people, so presumably it was more an ‘unwritten code of politeness’ rather than fashion law.

Hence, I kept the pink peony design for Ranmao, and decorated them in the way Qing women would have.

Neckline

By far the most interesting thing I learned from this redesign attempt was that the “mandarin collar” - the thing that pops up first in most people’s minds when thinking about Chinese fashion - was in fact not at all common.

In this academic work on Chinese fashion history, Finnane writes that the ‘high collar’ was “not a common feature of costume before the twentieth century.” Instead, most costumes would have had a round neckline.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 93

The ‘high collar’ gained popularity in early 1900s in China after the Europeans brought with them the beauty standard for high collars, as well as slim-fitted silhouettes. The Chinese increasingly adopted this type of collar and the slim silhouette (the well known ‘china dress/qipao/cheongsam’), and the relatively many early photos that survived helped engrave this stereotype into our minds.

Sleeves

I do not think it requires any mention, but 19th century Chinese fashion did not include boleros... For many of the original designs of Ranmao I can sort of see where Yana got that image from, but this bolero-look truly beats me.

The sleeves worn in the late Qing period were relatively wide, though they were starting to slim down over time. Late Qing women enjoyed much more flexible clothing rules than earlier Qing women, and the width of the sleeves was in great part determined by personal preference, season, but mostly one’s wealth.

Needless to say, the larger the sleeves the more fabric and embroidery it would require, and thus more expensive. Also, the wider the more it would get into the wearer’s way.

I don’t know how much thought Yana put into Ranmao’s original design in relation to her function as elite bodyguard, but considering how the original has zero practicality and only serves to maximise Ranmao’s attractiveness, I have no qualms about giving Ranmao fairly large sleeves too. Besides, let us assume that Lau is responsible for providing Ranmao with clothes. Illegal money tends to fill the pockets quite deeply, I don’t think he can’t spare a few pounds for big sleeves.

Wider sleeves would expose much of ‘a lady’s precious skin’, as such a more fitted layer would have been worn underneath. (The sleeves under the wider sleeves obviously did not have to be orange-ish. This was merely coincidence that both my redesign and the visual source have this colour.)

Silhouette

The figure hugging silhouette x Chinese clothes was - as mentioned above - not at all a thing in Ranmao’s time. In fact, the accentuation of the “female curves” was considered very inappropriate if not downright ugly in the Qing dynasty.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 94

Yana’s notes mention that the thing Ranmao wears is just an European corset and that that is the only thing ‘English’ about her attire.

Well... I don’t know where the idea that Victorians wore corsets on the outside comes from, but I myself admittedly was fooled by this a few years ago too... I promise you all now however, Victorians decidedly did not wear their ‘bras’ on the outside. I think even now this look is considered rather ‘questionable’ by most people.

Instead, Qing dynasty clothes were mostly cut wide and straight, loosely dangling around their bodies offering maximum comfort and space. You feared Ranmao killing you in her corset? Now tremble before her now blessed with maximised agility.

Trousers

Well... I considered ‘translating’ Ranmao’s attire to 2020 standard like I did for O!Ciel, but that would not be Tumblr-filter approved. Skirts so short they could be mistaken for a belt are nothing too surprising today, but wearing one with a split that deep is probably a bit too revealing even by today’s standards.

By the late Qing dynasty, men and women, rich and poor alike predominantly wore trousers. Long robes (skirts) were definitely in fashion too, but they were reserved for those who could afford to not have much agility. If you were a farmer, robes would not have been your first option. Perhaps the way long skirts were viewed by the Qing Chinese was not unlike the way we see them now; ‘more classy’ ‘more feminine’ and ‘less convenient’, but not the only way to express femininity.

In these pictures below we can see relatively rich women, married and unmarried alike, all wearing trousers.

Ranmao is predominantly a fighter, and as trousers are plenty feminine in Chinese fashion culture, I don’t see why she would not choose to wear trousers instead of a restricting long skirt. Hence I gave her a pair of trousers.

Shoes

Like I said before, “the shoes are correct...” But the anklets definitely are not!

Golden or silver anklets are something that are worn by very, VERY young children in China. Even to this day it is customary among many Chinese people to gift newborn children at least one piece of pendant, bracelet or anklet, for it is believed to bring the child luck. More practically, this piece of jewellery will become the child’s first piece of property then, which can be sold later SHOULD they ever run into a financially difficult situation.

These anklets or bracelets would not be removed from the child unless they have outgrown them, which happens fairly quick. Ranmao who is probably full grown should have outgrown them at least ten years ago. Hence, seeing these things on Ranmao would probably make it look like she is still wearing diapers or bibs.

Chinese people would likewise not have worn shoes barefoot. Instead, they would have worn cotton socks which were mostly white.

DOUBLE HAMMERS

HERE COME THE WEAPONS! Luckily Yana wrote the following note or I would never have guessed what they are for my knowledge about Chinese weapons is next to nothing.

“These are【SUPER】heavy. They are weapons called 双錘 (double hammers) and they in fact exist. I heard these were used by power-type warriors.”

So, I googled 双錘 and it turns out that the type Ranmao is holding do indeed exist! But... only in fiction and theatre.

The hammers that were used in actual combat were either very thin and long, or short and plump. Such hammers were one of the most primitive metal weapons in China, and quickly fell out of favour among Chinese warriors when more practical weapons such as the metal spear, sword and bows were invented. The hammers mostly retained their value because of their weight in heroic tales and myths about legendary warriors and deities.

I don’t have the full details, but apparently according to some legends or myths, one of such big-ass hammers could deal a force of 200kg, and thus 400kg combined. Regardless of this being realistic or not, it sure does sound very cool! It is therefore no wonder this primitive weapon retains its popularity even today.

Nowadays when these hammers are used, they are either the blown up theatrical versions, or the smaller versions for the sake of preserving martial arts.

I had a bit of a dilemma as to which version to give Ranmao, but in the end I settled with the short and heavy ones because I wanted to keep the idea of this small and innocent looking girl wielding solid metal balls. Two cheer-leading sticks would simply not have the same weight, figuratively and literally.

Alright everyone! Did you enjoy my response to your votes? I hope you did ^^ Non-European fashion history really is not my strong suit, so my deepest apologies if I messed anything up.

Pray tell if I did, I am always happy to learn ^^

[xmyshya]

Soft

summary: I am a firm believer that Atsumu CAN be soft. When he wants to. And now he just might. genre: fluff, crack, smut warnings: fem!reader, soft Atsumu, sexual tension, making love at the end, MINORS DNI special thanks: HQHQ and our lovely Atsumu sessions, you guys gave me so much inspiration for the last part. I love you. I love you all. a/n: I don’t want to say that I’m proud of this one, but I am. wc: 2.7k

Looking at the friend sitting across the table in the quiet corner of this adorable cafe, you can’t help but think how crazy it has been. Mostly because he’s an idiot, but you LOVE that idiot. “Y/N? Are ya even listenin’?” “Uhh… yes?” “What were ya thinkin’ ‘bout so hard anyway?” “Okay, uhm, remember when…”

The gym was huge and offered a lot of equipment, half of it having names you’d never heard before. The only problem? It was constantly crowded. Except for crazy early hours, which is why you were dressed in your tracksuit and drenched at 5 am. Yet, you were still not alone at this ungodly time. On the first day, he visibly hesitated before entering, clearly wanting absolutely no company. You couldn’t really blame him, he was probably followed by throngs of fans and paparazzi every day. The man must have deemed you harmless however, because he stayed. Well, at the other end of the enormous room, but stayed. He came back on the next day. And next one. And another, and soon enough you were nodding at each other in a silent greeting. This odd ritual continued on for a few weeks, until… “Hey, ya… come here often?” Fuckfuckfuck, he was still sporting the smug smile, though his eyes were filled with panic. You stared at him dumbfounded. Guess even celebrities struggle sometimes. “Uhh… I… N-no, this is my first time.” Both of you erupted in laughter. “Miya Atsumu, nice to meet ya.” “Oh yeah, I know.” He raised an eyebrow. “I mean… L/N Y/N, nice to meet you too”

“D’ya really gonna rub it in ma face til the end of ma life?” “Nah, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget when I’m old, so I gotta make use of it till I can.” The blonde doesn’t look happy. Amusing. “So what were you talking about?” “Oh right, so there’s gonna be a party for the team and friends, and… uhh… would you like to… be my plus one?” Of course you would like to. Love to. “Lemme know what colours ya wanna wear.” “Ehh? You wanna match or something?” There is a teasing undertone in your question. He either misses it or ignores. “I’ve always wanted to do that…” But you already know. Black and gold, the colours of his team. Yes, obviously that’s the only reason. It’s completely unrelated to your current imaginations of Atsumu looking smoking hot in a black fitted suit, black shirt, and matte gold tie. Totally not.

You’re still adding final touch ups, when the doorbell rings through the air. “Open!” In response there’s a click of the door, opening and closing, and Atsumu announces his arrival with a sigh saying why aren’t ya ready yet. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” You shift from your bedroom to the hall, and he whistles. Sharply. You know you look good in that black dress, hugging tightly all your curves (extra points for a deep notch on the back and thin golden chains), and golden heels. And now, he knows it too. Just like you assumed, he does look great. So great, that the only image filling your head as your eyes run down and up on him is how much you want to rip that suit off of him. Party? You’d rather have a one-on-one party against the wall he’s leaning on. Or a kitchen counter. Or a sofa. Shower maybe? “Are ya checkin’ me out?” Again that smug look on his face. You really want to wipe it off. With your lips. “Must be your imagination.” You push him out of the apartment and lock the door.

One of the greatest mysteries of this world must be why elevator scenes are so… weird. Weirdly hot. You’re both on the opposite ends of the tiny cube, ogling each other and turning your gaze away. “Ya really look beautiful.” “Thank you.” Silence. “You look great too. Perfect ten.” You look him straight in the eyes, and if you have the timing right… “Very fuckable.” Ding and the door opens. You brush his chest while walking out. Atsumu forgets to leave the elevator.

Party hall is already swarming with people when you arrive. Faces from magazine covers flash here and there, some of them entertaining whoever wants to listen, some whispering mysterious promises in eager ears, some just roaming around in search of god knows what. “I’ll get us some drinks” is one of those promises, and Atsumu leaves your side. He’s quickly replaced by one of those roaming creatures. “You here alone?” He’s much too close to your liking. “Actually I-” “You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning. I’m Shugo-” “Meian!” The voice of your companion startles you with its sudden proximity, but also brings comfort. As soon as the drink is passed in your hand, you feel his touch on the small of your back. “Oh, I didn’t know you two were-” “We’re not.” “We’re friends.” Both of your replies come immediately. Meian straightens up and smiles. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I went for her?” “Not like I have any right to stop ya.” Miya says calmly, but you can feel his whole body tense up against yours.

“Alright everyone, we’d like to make a toast…” Clinking of glasses interrupts your surprisingly pleasant conversation with the MSBY captain, but soon enough he’s back to flooding you with questions. Atsumu walks away to join his other teammates. “Please excuse me.” You don’t even look at the male next to you, focused only on catching up with the blond friend. His questioning gaze burns a hole at the side of your head. “I came here with you.” “Is that the only reason?” Your eyes meet and you give him a lopsided grin. “Nah, you’re much hotter.” He stands a little taller, visibly more confident, fuller of himself. His hand finds its way to your hip and he pulls you a little closer.

Next two hours are spent on the dance floor, countless people already pulling you back before you even step outside of the designated area. You’re currently trapped in the arms of none other than Bokuto Koutarou, and you could swear you were swayed by the sheer force of his alone. But you don’t mind, his energy of a nuclear reactor and megawatt smile fully compensate for any inconveniences. The song comes to an end however, and you quickly follow him back to the table. “Ya don’t wanna dance anymore?” Atsumu asks when you settle in your chair, looking for something to replenish your energy. “Why?” “Ya looked so happy on the dance floor. And yet, yer sittin’ here now.” “Were you watching me this closely?” His ears fire up like Christmas lights. “I do.” “Huh?” “I do wanna dance.” For a moment you’re both just staring at each other in silence. Then you notice gears turning slowly in his head, and, at the moment of realisation, a light bulb. “May I please have this dance?” He holds a hand out, and you place yours in it. Atsumu leads you towards the swaying crowd, and then pulls you close. So close, that your bodies could merge. “And the next one too.” He purrs in your ear.

Miya’s breath on your skin is hot and distracting. Does he feel you shiver every time he exhales on your neck? He must, you conclude, since his palm is resting on your bare back. “Ya smell so good…” The whisper caresses your ear, his lips so close, yet so far. “Mmm… you too.” And those lips curl up.

It’s not just this dance. And not just the next one either. Many dances later and you’re still glued to his body, surrounded by a muscular arm, and one hand still in his. The other one playing mindlessly with his undercut. “Looks like Meian found someone to take home t’night.” “Hmm? Did you?” You pull a strand of his hair and lightly scratch his nape. “Do that again and I might get dangerous.” “Maybe I like doing dangerous things?” There’s a movement near your thigh, and you both hope those words carry a promise.

It’s well into the night and people start leaving, but it seems like the blonde is still not ready to let you out of his embrace. You lean your head on his shoulder, forehead right under his jaw, and let him rock you gently to the slow music. With eyes closed, breathing in his scent, it feels almost as if you two were the only people here. “Are ya tired?” You only purr in response. “Lessgo home then. Wanna stay at mine?” “Oya?” “I-i-it’s… not whatcha think… A won’t… won’t touch ya.” “But if you won’t, then what’s the point?” He freezes, agape, and you wonder how the hell someone so hot can become so flustered. “But seriously, I don’t have a change of clothes” which is a lie, because you do have spare panties in your tiny purse “or cosmetics, or-” “I’ll give ya somethin’ to sleep in.”

The door behind you closes with a quiet click. God, it feels so good to finally, finally take these heels off. You put your purse on a drawer right next to the door, and proceed to take your earrings off, placing them neatly in a tiny pouch. “Tsumu? Could you help me with the necklace?” He doesn’t say anything, instead coming behind you and trying to unclasp the piece of jewelry. Trying, because his hands shake. You take a sneak peek at him through the mirror, at his focused face and slightly poked tongue. He’s so adorable. In the meantime you reach to your hair and start removing the pins, but soon your hands are pulled away and replaced with his. It’s surprising but endearing how gentle this giant man can be. You close your eyes and just enjoy the moment, as your strands tickle your nape one by one. And then something hot and wet tickles your neck, right below your ear. Oh. Oh. “A… ‘m sorry, a didn’t mean to…” Nononono, come back here. You grab his tie and pull him down to a kiss, a searing clash of lips, slowly beginning to move against one another. One of his hands caresses your back, right under the edge of your dress, the other one pulls your hair gently making you gasp. His tongue slides along your lips painfully slowly, and you chase it with yours until the tips meet. The feeling is electrifying, sending shivers through your whole body.

Undressing Miya Atsumu is similar to unwrapping a Christmas present you’ve been waiting for for months. Button after button, you reveal more and more of his heavenly sculpted chest and stomach, your lips following the hands. He loves it, the feeling of your wet muscle soothing the bites drives him crazy, little purrs he lets out make his chest vibrate. It’s almost unbearable. He decides he can’t take it anymore when you hook your fingers under his pants and start unzipping them, grazing his cock. He pulls you close, sliding your dress off of you, and letting it pool at your feet. And then drags you to the bathroom, where he rids both of you of your underwear. The man enters the shower, extending his hand to you, and you grab it by instinct, before being pulled right under the stream of steamy water. “‘Tsumu, I’m gonna look like a panda!” “Eh? But pandas are cute tho?” “I’d rather look hot right now” He laughs boyishly, almost innocently, as he pumps some of his face wash and rubs it gently all over your features. His calloused fingertips massage your forehead and temples, while thumbs work on your chin and nose. It fills you with millions of bubbles, cotton candy surrounding your heart as fluffy as the foam. “‘Tsumu?” “Mmm?” “Kiss me.” And he does. At first it’s slow and sweet, but as your hands wash away the evening from the skin, there’s more hunger, more passion. Atsumu pulls and lifts you, throwing you over his shoulder as he walks out of the bathroom. “‘Tsumuuuu! The towels! We’re NOT sleeping in a wet bed!” “Who said anything about sleepin’, princess?”

Idiot.

Bonus scene: “Good morning sunshine.”

He whispers against your forehead after your lashes tickle his neck. His palms embrace your cheeks, and his lips on yours are as soft as summer rain. Pecks become open mouthed kisses, invitations and promises of summer heat. Breaths and sighs remind you of a seaside breeze, carrying the freshness of waves and hotness of sand. Your hands are roaming in search of a buried treasure, but no matter how much they find, it’s not enough. It’s never enough. His mouth ghost over the shells of your ears, spilling words smooth and shiny like pearls, while fingers trail new paths under the veil of your shirt. They discover new lands, gliding along the skin, making it bloom in tiny goosebumps wherever they touch. Kisses and licks flow at the surface of your neck, sealing and sucking over sensitive spots, painting them in pinks, reds, and purples. Big palms cover the hills of your breasts, thumbs sweep over the nipples so gently, that you’re not even sure if you imagined it.

Your naked body shivers underneath his, and arches into his warm embrace, as his lips press silent praises into your skin. You open your eyes, and you don’t know which is brighter - the sunshine pouring through the windows, or the sunshine of his hair. You can touch his hair though. So you do, and the soft rivers of gold cascade and tickle in between your fingers. Atsumu raises his gaze and smiles against your skin, lighting up your heart.

Reaching your heat, he pulls the strings of your pleasure with each kiss, each flick of his tongue, and you sing the ballad he composes. In this concert you’re the star, you’re the diva, and he’s merely there to worship you, to accompany your voice, to encourage and appreciate. He’s guiding you through the quiet breathy parts, not much louder than a whisper. He’s caressing the keys, adding more passion, more force, more depth, eliciting notes reaching higher, pushing you through a crescendo, rapidly, lovingly, until you’re nothing but an effusion of pleads and cries of his name.

“Atsumu, come back to me.” You breathe out.

And he’s walking the path again, kissing the ground he steps on, coming back to where he belongs, where he wants to belong. Your eyes meet when he glides into you, slowly, carefully, as if any sharp movement would shatter you and this moment. Atsumu nibbles at your lips and you let him in, let his tongue dance with yours, as your fingers intertwine.

One more push joins your hips, and you both let out a breathy sigh. He pulls back and rolls back in, making sure you feel all the veins, until his tip kisses your cervix. And again. And once more.

“Ah… Tsumu…” And he knows he’s lost.

“God, yer so beautiful.”

You’re sinking in his eyes like molten chocolate, and the whole world ceases to exist. There’s only you and him, and the flame spilling from where you’re joined, overtaking your bodies, minds, and senses. It’s too much, it wells up in your eyes and overspills, and he’s quick to brush it away. A kiss is placed on your temple and travels down your cheek and onto your neck. With a free hand you rub mindless patterns on his back, scrape at his nape, while his roams down along your skin, adorning all the curves.

You moan into his shoulder at the sudden touch. He only grazes your clit and you’re fluttering, pulling him deeper inside of you. The movement is slow, as slow as the roll of his hips, as the drag of his tongue on your throat. But it spreads like a wildfire, floods your mind in waves until everything is drowned in a white haze and explodes in a million stars.

“Come with me”

And he does. He paints his own milky way inside of you, releasing galaxies upon galaxies until he pours everything he has, until he’s empty and you’re full. He does, because he would follow you anywhere.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-16: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it.  And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“Rather than daydreaming all day, thinking about how you can soar higher, perhaps you’d be better off first learning how to walk.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

I failed. And right when I was just a step away from becoming the champion too.

I felt an odd sense of heaviness overwhelm me during the long time it took for the curtain call to end, something that I’d never felt before. It was sort of a mixture of both an inexplicable sense of dissatisfaction and suspicion.

I don’t know how or when I got myself off the stage.

Sariel’s words echoed in my mind. He said that I’d completely disregarded the essence of what it means to be a Fashion Designer… But what exactly does he mean by that?

All the contestants walking in front of me were relieved beyond measure that it was all over now, but the more I thought about it, the more confused I got. I walked towards a quieter place alone.

The courtyard garden at the foot of the corridor appeared serene and mysterious at night. The bright moonlight filtered down, shining upon the flowers and leaves alike. The night breeze carried along with it the faint fragrance of flowers.

❖☆———————————★❖

I lowered my head and glanced at the potted plant by my feet. It was a flower yet to fully bloom, with many smaller flower buds hidden beneath its wide leaves, which were gently rubbing against my ankle.

It was akin to a small pet that was showing affection to its owner in a bid to comfort them.

Despite knowing that the notion of comfort was merely an illusion caused by the night breeze, I still couldn’t help but feel my heart warm.

MC: Thanks…

It was then that I heard the squeak of the glass doors opening to admit another.

Illuminated under the moonlight, the lanky figure gradually walked closer

❖☆———————————★❖

A crisp white suit and a pair of icy eyes.

MC: Sariel…

He looked a little appalled to see me here, but that flicker of emotion was soon concealed.

Sariel didn’t speak. He directed his gaze past me, staring at the plants within the garden. His eyes reflected the faint moonlight, appearing as beautiful as coloured glass.

He looked surprisingly serene here, compared to the frostiness he’d displayed back up on stage earlier.

However, the cold comment he’d given me immediately flashed back in my mind just as I was musing about this.

❖☆———————————★❖

Sariel: You absolutely do not understand the meaning of your given theme at all.

❖☆———————————★❖

My head had been in a mess back then, so I totally missed the chance to enquire further about it.

Perhaps his being here right now was fate’s way of giving me another chance to do so.

MC: M-Mr. Sariel…!

Sariel silently turned his gaze over. His eyes were as calm as ever, the only difference was his slightly furrowed eyebrows.

MC: I’m (Y/n), one of the participating Fashion Designers of the contest today.

Sariel: I know.

MC: I really like your works, and I’ve always seen you as my role model.

Sariel: So?

MC: So…

★Night Choice: Read his body language and remain silent. 

I lapsed into silence the moment I met his gaze.

That look on his face spoke volumes. He didn't even bother hiding the fact that anything I said would fall upon deaf ears.

Sariel: Are you presuming that I'll understand just what it is you're trying to express in your work if I give you a chance to explain yourself?

I looked at him in surprise, nodding.

The sides of his lips immediately curled up into a sneer.

Sariel: The organizer prepared hundreds upon hundreds of material choices. You clearly had the choice of choosing a more suitable material, yet you still used the most unfitting material: 80 twist Black Chiffon.

MC: That's because I wanted to express the tenacity of "Fashion Designers".

Sariel: You're only creating this to realize your idea.

Sariel: Be it high twist Black Chiffon, or those blasphemous roses that clash so terribly bad that it leaves people speechless...

Sariel: Everything merely falls under your own "Design Ideas", with no consideration whatsoever about whether this is the right way to go about making it into an actual product.

☆Light Choice: Explain your design choice

MC: So, I want to know why you think I don’t understand the theme. I hope I can explain just what the ideas that went into my design are.

I originally thought that he’d outright refuse me, but he never interrupted me, and neither did he leave. He’d only watched me calmly as I rattled off. Does this mean that he acquiescences with me?

I mustered up my courage and started rattling off my explanation.

MC: I chose to use Black Chiffon with the highest twist available, 80 twists high, not just because it can attain and support the design I wanted to go for.

MC: It was also because I felt that it was a good representation of the tenacity of Fashion Designers.

MC: And as for the rose ornaments… I chose it because it represents why I initially wanted to become a Fashion Designer.

MC: I don’t know others will go about interpreting what the term “Fashion Designer” means, but to me, I feel that…

MC: There is no one answer to this, and there’s also no way one can take it too far in any whichever direction.

After hearing me out, the sides of Sariel’s lips curled into a blatant sneer.

Sariel: So, you think that the problem here lies with the way you think, and hence, your idea. That’s why you’re trying so hard to explain and make it clear to me, am I right?

MC: …Is it not?

Sariel: Your sheer lack of understanding is astounding.

Sariel: 80 twist Black Chiffon might be able to support and display the design you wish for it to. But for something that’s being made into a top hat, this high twist amount is the most unsuitable for the task.

Sariel: You’ve chucked the elegance aside, completely disregarded the volume it is supposed to have, and most importantly, it is utterly uncomfortable to wear.

Sariel: There are better ways you could represent “Roses” if you so wished. You shouldn’t have forcibly added this artefact that clashes with the whole outlook of the piece to your work.

Sariel: Only mediocre people will wish to attain recognition through their explanations.

Sariel: Everyone out there will only be able to grasp what it is you’re trying to convey through your work.

Sariel: In your work… That’s if we can even call that a piece of work…

Sariel: I don’t know why you have placed so much sentiment into it. So much, that it has totally lost its purpose as a hat.

He was surprisingly serious when it came to talking about design itself, much unlike the arrogance and iciness he’d displayed back on stage.

Sariel: Designers ought to know just what the product is being created for.

Sariel: You do not yet hold the qualities of what it takes to be a good Designer.

Sariel: Rather than daydreaming all day, thinking about how you can soar higher, perhaps you’d be better off first learning how to walk.

His words were like a bullet, piercing me right through the heart. I stared at him, stunned and unable to form a single word.

He was absolutely right. I’d always gone straight for the concept. Whilst my heart wanted to explore new concepts within the given theme, it’d also ignored the most important thing.

I bowed to him in utter seriousness.

MC: I understand. I will do my best to correct that. Thank you.

Sariel: … What you intend to do from now on is none of my concern.

It was as if he’d reverted back into the judge, atop a pedestal and far out of reach. A completely different person from the one who’d been seriously discussing my design with me just moments earlier.

Watching his retreating figure, I felt nothing short of conflicted.

It was almost as if I’d gotten the answer to the question that had been nagging at the back of my mind for some time now in this unpleasant exchange of ours.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-14) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-19 Light) / (Chapter 1-19 Night)

[joheun-saram]

To Make A Power Couple (knj) | 8

Chapter 8: Housewarming

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Finally moved in together, Namjoon and Y/N relish their time together despite their schedules and stupid misunderstandings

word count- 8.8k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, fluff, smut, slight angst

warnings- extreme domestic fluff, mention of parental death, alcohol consumption, kink shaming (kinda? idk man), dom!joon, sub!reader, smut (unprotected sex, fingering, rough sex, marking, somewhat daddy kink, orgasm denial), safeword use (yellow), Namjoon being whipped but also being a dumbass, Y/N just trying to chill, Namjoon’s obsessed with her ass ig

a.n- apologies for this chapter taking literally forever! but i give you fluff for your patience. so much fluff omg. can i move in with joon already? but also we cant have this much fluff without a sprinkle of angst. 

special s/o to @himbojk​,  @pars-ley​, and @s0seo​ for beta reading parts for me  and easing my worries 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns​ , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond, @asdfghjklqwertyv, @cheesecakes-randomshitz​, @goldenjongho

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“Are you sure about this? It’s only been six months honey.” Your mother looked at you through the screen and you felt your heart tighten. She had that worried look on her face, the one that tells you that she will respect your decision but isn’t too happy about it. She looked different too, the wrinkles around her eyes more pronounced as she frowned and you wish you could convince her of your decision.

“Seven, actually. I love him, mom. I thought you liked him?” She had been nothing but supportive of your relationship, trusting you to make the right decisions. It had been the two of you for so long when you were younger that it always felt weird that you were on your own now. When your father had passed away when you were starting high school, she had done everything in her power to ensure you never felt like you were down a parent. As a senior partner at a management consultancy, she had long hours and business trips but she always picked you up from school and often took you with her on her business trips. Her trips are the reason that by the time you finished high school, you had been to pretty much every major city in North America. Not to mention that watching her working is the reason you were so good at what you did now. 

You remember when the first year after your father’s death you had to go to a father-daughter school dance and she donned one of his old suits to take you. You danced with her that night, surrounded by your peers and their fathers, but smiling at her as you nuzzled into her neck, her scent mingling with your dad’s on the clothes. You felt safe and you decided you never wanted to disappoint her. Maybe that’s where your drive to succeed came from - from ensuring that your mom, who worked long hours but still had a homemade dinner on the table when you came back from school, was proud of you.

“I do like him, honey. Namjoon is probably the best boyfriend you’ve had. I’m just worried you both are moving too fast.” She sighed as she sipped her tea. “He’s a rockstar, I just want you to be happy but what if things changed?”

“A rockstar?” You giggled. Sometimes you forgot that your mom was kind of old school, not beyond judging a book by its cover. “He’d probably die of embarrassment to hear you say that.”

“Y/N I’m just saying. Be careful with your heart.” Her voice was stern as she looked at you through the screen, her eyes narrowed with her warning.

“I know mom. I’m sorry. I trust him, you know. I don’t think I knew what love was till I met him. Having him around makes me feel safe, less lonely.”

“He’s still responsible for my daughter being in a cast.” After the incident, your mother had grown a bit wary of your relationship. She knew he was famous but she never realised just how many sacrifices the two of you had made to be together. You knew she was aware that Namjoon would never hurt you but you still felt bad that she was worrying over what was an anomaly. Speaking to Namjoon, you knew that something of the sort had never happened to him and his members, even to his other idol friends. The thought of it being such a rare occurrence had given you assurance and you hoped it would translate to your worried mother an ocean away.

“Mom! It’s not his fault. We’ve been over this!”

“I know, I know. I’m your mom. I’m just worried.” She sighed as she resigned from the conversation. You knew your mom had your best interests at heart but she didn’t know Namjoon like you did. She had met him twice over the screen and then had spent countless hours googling him and sending you clips of him breaking things with texts calling him out (“he better not be this clumsy with your heart”). You love her but you never know how to convince her that she had nothing to worry about. “Anyways, how’s my favourite son Harry?”

And so the conversation moved on from her qualms about your soon-to-be live-in boyfriend to your business as you told her about the plans you had for your company and talked about your friends. As you went to bed after hanging up, you looked at the empty side. It was the first time in weeks you were sleeping without your boyfriend but you were giddy as you thought about the morning when he would finally move in and you would never see that empty side again.

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

“Baby why are all your shelves empty? Why have I never noticed this before?” Namjoon stood frowning in the kitchen with a box of his dishes and cutlery, something you made fun of him about since he notoriously lives on take out, as he placed his plates in the shelves above your kitchen counters.  

“Really Joon? Do you know who you’re dating?” You giggled as you hopped off the counter you were sitting at and stood next to him. Reaching up to extend your uninjured hand as far as it could, you looked at him as you just about reached the bottom shelf. You were not that short but whoever designed this apartment thought the shelves looked extra elegant if they were extra high. 

“Aw! You’re so cute!” He cooed as he patted your head condescendingly, causing you to scowl and narrow your eyes at him. Before you could retort, he put his arms around your waist lifting you so you were eye level with the shelves. “See? Now you can reach! Teamwork!”

You laughed as he put you down, turning around to wrap your arm around him. “Can’t believe we live together now,” you whispered into his chest as you felt him kiss the top of your head. Placing your chin against him you looked up, speaking in a hushed tone. “Promise me you won’t start hating me and my little quirks.”

“I could never hate you, as long as you promise not to get annoyed by me practicing in our living room.” Namjoon looked at you with a wide smile, as he cupped your face, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You hugged him as you looked across the kitchen island towards your large living room. The large shelf in the corner that once only housed only your books and vinyls was now filled with pieces of your boyfriend. The top shelves had his books with his own organization system (apparently organizing books based on colours was too chaotic for him) as his little collectible figurines stood at random places. Not to mention the tiny baby shoes he had added on one of the shelves (“They’re just cute! I’m totally not picturing a cute fat baby with your doe eyes!”). 

You both had added another shelf near the balcony that now housed his extensive plant collection, in fact you had never seen this apartment more green, little plants scattered in the corners. In addition to your framed posters, there were now paintings from his collection, eclectic pieces that lit the blank white walls in color. You both had even moved the couch to the corner and added a mirror on the nearby wall that not only made the room look larger but would help Namjoon if he ever needed to practice his dances. 

You sighed contentedly as what was once your home now became the both of yours, your hobbies and tastes intermingling in a perfect union. The den was now a studio, soundproofed and full of midi boards and amps - it seemed like a piece of Namjoon had a place in your home. The two of you had gone back and forth over where to live, whether to move into his house or buy a new place completely, but in the end you had decided your apartment would be best since it was close to both of your work places and because it housed the most memories you shared.

“Oh! Or we can buy a new place?” You looked up at Namjoon’s profile from where you laid next to him, you head in the crook of his arm, his fingers tracing circles on your skin, right above where your cast ended. You were both in bed, a few days after he asked you to move in together, eager to figure out where you would embark on your latest relationship milestone.

“What about here? I like it here. This is our spot.”

“Really you wanna move in here?”

“Yeah this is where we had our first official date. This is where we found out that Ken Burns documentaries make you fall asleep-” He grunted as you smacked his chest at his comment, laughing before continuing. “This is where I first found out how much I love your food. Heck, that living room was where I knew I was in love with you!”

“Oh? You haven’t told me that before.” The two of you turn on your sides to look at each other as you grinned at him in anticipation.

“Yeah it was like a few weeks after we became official. I came over and you were at the gym and when you came back we ordered like a massive pizza and you were so giddy while eating it, I don’t know if you noticed but I’m sure I had literal heart eyes.”

“You know you really like me and pizza together,” you joked as you played with the necklace he had given you, his hand coming to fiddle with the chain as well.

“What can I say? I like you covered in sauce.” He laughed as he held your chin and brought you in for a kiss, humming gently when you separate.

“Be honest though, you totally fell in love with me when I agreed to recreate that porn you like, didn’t you?”

“Ah fuck! You’re right, that’s like the number one reason we should move in here. This is where we found out calling me daddy makes you gag.”

“Yes I’m sure it was just calling you that and not your stupidly big dick.” You both broke into fits of laughter holding on to each other, falling back into the comforting silence, before Namjoon broke it looking at you with a smirk.

“So how about we break out that riding crop again? Hmm? Get you in some of that sexy lingerie?” He moved his arm lower from where it sat on your waist to your hips, his fingers playing with the waistband of your pajamas.

“But baby you said you loved my batman underwear,” you whined jokingly, giggling with your arm around his neck as you looked at him coyly.

“Honestly? I love you in anything.” He said earnestly as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, moving his body to lay on top of yours carefully avoiding your injured arm. “Or nothing…”

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

The first week of living together was odd. The two of you had spent the month after deciding to move in together planning so much, even buying new furniture, but now that you were living together it was weird. It wasn’t a bad weird, in fact it was a very, very good weird. You and Namjoon had never lived with a partner before and much like when you first got together, it felt easy. Maybe it was practice from when Namjoon was over all the time, but it just felt so effortless being with each other.

You would be lying if you said your mother’s words hadn’t opened up an insecurity within you. You were messy, sure it was an organized mess, but you were messy. You tend to forget where you put things, and when you’re stressed even the smallest of inconveniences make you snap. However, somehow Namjoon just slotted himself into your life so seamlessly, you were finding it hard to believe how lucky you were. 

On Monday, you came home and as usual threw whatever jacket you were wearing on the floor, he followed, silently picking it up and hanging it. Namjoon was organized and that made you remember where you left your keys on Tuesday, because now they were always in the cute little crab shaped plate near the foyer. On Wednesday you were infuriated with work and when you went to pee when you reached home, the toilet seat was up causing you to nearly topple in. But unlike usual when you would’ve torn whoever did that to pieces, you broke into a laugh, dialing Namjoon at practice and telling him you missed him. On Thursday, you had your doctor’s appointment to finally get the cast off, and when you returned home to excitedly show off your new arm, Namjoon frowned at the large scar before kissing it repeatedly and spending the night worshipping you. On Friday, the two of you saw the smog warning and donned some masks going to Yeouido Hangang Park, melding in with the mask-wearing strangers enjoying convenience store kimbap and beers as you read your book aloud to him, lounging on the sloping greens. That was also when he learned you didn’t know how to ride a bike, making it his responsibility to teach you.

“I still can’t believe you don’t know how to ride a bike!” Namjoon laughed as he held onto the handlebars. You struggled to keep the balance, your feet resting lightly on the pedals of the rented bike as he slowly pushed you. 

“I skateboarded instead! You tell me that once you land an ollie!” you huffed, now pushing on the pedals, albeit gently. Namjoon found your hesitation adorable. He loved discovering these different sides of you. The fact that his always confident girlfriend seemed scared of something as simple as a bike when she was apparently doing tricks on a skateboard, made his heart swell. It was like you kept all your embarrassing secrets for him, you told him things that no one knew about you, and he couldn’t wait to discover more. 

For Namjoon, moving in had been as easy as breathing, even though it had barely been a week. On Monday, he took a homemade lunch to work for the first time in a year. When he opened the box, the smell of your stew lingered in his studio and every time he returned from a meeting that day, the scent made him smile. On Tuesday, you came by his building to pick him up, waving excitedly as he wrapped up a livestream and tried not to giggle like a fool in love, which he very much was. Wednesday, he was having a tough time getting the new dance routine down, but then you called him out of the blue and it made his heart flutter, reenergizing him to finally nail the steps. When your cast came off on Thursday, he was again filled with guilt about his part in your attack, but your assurances helped him ease his mind. However, not as much as you screaming his name when he made you cum for the third time on his tongue. Namjoon had never felt so connected to someone before. Usually he would be scared to share so much of his life with another person, but with you he couldn’t wait. He felt extremely lucky just to be in your presence, soaking in the determined look on your face as he taught you how to ride a bike.

“Okay shit. Nevermind that’s really hot. Let’s go skateboarding next time,” he smiled at you mischievously, knowing that he was going to let go of the bike any second.

“I haven’t done that in ten - Oh my god! Don’t let go! Why are you letting go?” You looked behind you to see Namjoon put a thumb in the air in encouragement.

“You’re a big girl, you can do it. I believe in you!”

“I hate you! I’m gonna fall! How do I stop?!” You could feel the wind blowing through your hair as you steadily picked up speed, and you were terrified. How did you let your tree of a boyfriend talk you into this? There was a reason you had legs, why did you need these stupid wheels?!

“Just push the brakes and put your leg out.”

“Joon! Namjoon! I’m gonna fall!” You watched your life flash before your eyes as you cursed, falling on to the grass, your bike between your legs. Namjoon jogged up the few meters to stand above you, almost doubling over in laughter, causing you to cross your arms where you laid pouting at him. “Stop laughing at me!”

“Sorry! I just - you were going so slow! You literally fell in slow motion!” He continued laughing, even having the audacity to wipe a tear off his eye as you glared at him, before moving the bike and helping you up. “Come on up. There we go!” He beamed at you making it much harder to be mad at him when his eyes squinted in that adorable way they do when he’s extra pleased.

“If I break my arm again it’s your fault.” You leaned into him as he put an arm around you, the other walking the bike back to its station. 

“Sorry, sorry! Okay I think that was enough practice. Let’s go home.” He pulled you closer, the bike now firmly locked and no longer charging him through the app. With your arms around his waist, you kind of felt bad giving up on learning so easily. He had seemed so excited when he suggested biking around the river.

“Sorry I can’t bike with you. I wanna share your hobbies!” You pouted, making Namjoon swoon.

“Baby we literally share like seven million hobbies. It’s okay if you don’t like biking. I hate all the Shark Tank episodes you make me sit through.” He laughed as you looked up at him, even with the mask covering half his face you could tell how his dimples would be poking through his cheeks at your comment.

“You said you liked them!”

“It was a month into dating you. I lied.” You rolled your eyes at his nonchalance as he smiled smugly. You knew he hated that show, he would always be getting up to go to the bathroom or get snacks during the pivotal moments. Well at least he was committed enough to not be on his phone when you watched together. Now that you think about it, he must really love you to sit through the marathon you had of it last month.

“So what else do you hate?”

“Arthur C Clarke. I don’t get why you love 2001 so much. It’s so pseudo philosophical and the sequels suck.”

“But the monolith Joon! The spark of curiosity and ambition! And like the combined consciousness! Come on!”

“Eh. Pretentious. Douglas Adams did it better.” He shrugged.

“I can’t believe you! Those are like two different concepts!” You laughed as he dissed one of your favourite books, enjoying his warmth against you as the two of you waited for the car to pick you up in the parking lot.

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

Saturday would mark the first weekend of you both living together, and so it was time to celebrate. The two of you had taken the day off in preparation for the first party you would host together, in the apartment you lived together. Just the thought made you giddy. You walked around the grocery store, stocking up on snacks and alcohol as Hayoon, Namjoon’s favourite security personnel, helped you carry the basket that kept getting heavier. You still found it weird walking around with the 195cm, extremely buff older man, but with the attack still fresh in your head, it was comforting having the looming presence. You had noticed that people didn’t even look twice at you, when in the past your foreigner status would have had at least a few staring at you.

Thanking Hayoon for carrying your supplies and bidding him a goodbye, you walked into your living room to find your boyfriend dancing to music playing from his earphones. Somehow in the midst of cleaning and moving furniture to make room for the twenty something people you both had invited, he had started working. You couldn’t blame him when you yourself had taken the time in the car to answer a few emails. It gave you the perfect opportunity to share your present with him.

“I’ve got a surprise for you!” You walked over to block his view of himself in the mirror as he rolled his body to some unknown tune. It was quite funny watching his concentrated scowl turn into confusion, barely hearing you.

“Hmm?”

“Stop dancing! I’ve got a surprise!”

“Can’t stop babe I have to get this down before Monday.” Namjoon looked over your head into the mirror as he continued practicing his choreography, making you roll his eyes.

“Hmm maybe Kook would wanna go instead,” you said nonchalantly as you turned around and started to slowly back away, before Namjoon’s arm came around your waist, stopping you.

“Ah baby don’t do that. See, airpod out, I’m listening!” You grinned as Namjoon pulled his earphone out, stopping the music but continuing to dance.

“You know you look like one of the sims just dancing there without music,” you joked, giggling.

“Babbbbbe! Where are we going?” he whined.

“So you know how your favourite rapper is Nas?”

“Yes I’m aware.”

“I got backstage passes!”

“What? For me?” Namjoon stilled, a dopey grin on his face as you walked closer to him to show him the tickets on your phone. It wasn’t a huge present but when one of your clients had asked if you wanted to attend, you couldn’t refuse the tickets. It helped that your client owned the stadium the performance was at and had accommodated your special requests for privacy.

“And you get to watch from this barricade so you don’t have to worry about paparazzi or fans and you can just enjoy the show!” Namjoon’s heart swelled as he heard your words. You never failed to surprise him with how much you went out of your way to make him comfortable. Lately, you’d been making him want to declare your relationship to the world. It was a dumb fantasy and the two of you had talked (argued) about going public, but between the two of you it seemed that you were more against it.

“You’re coming with me right?” He put his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“I don’t know, I know I just said you’ll have privacy but what if someone sees us together? Maybe you can take Yoongi.” You look up at him with a frown, your hands on his chest, as you assessed the different ways the concert could affect your privacy. He hated how you had to overthink such a simple outing, mirroring your frown as he reached to relax the crease between your brows before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Shut up. I’m only taking you. The whole world can watch!” He grinned making you roll your eyes. 

“You scare me with how easily you just said that.” You swatted at his chest. It really did scare you with how easily he’d been saying that lately. He wasn’t really an impulsive person, he usually thought everything through to the utmost detail and so his recent exclamations were worrying you. It’s not that you wouldn’t like to post one of the thousands of couple photos on your social media, it’s just you were worried about how toxic some netizens could be.

“Would it be so bad if everyone knew?” He pulled you closer, arms circling your waist as he pressed his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes with a little smile, wanting to play out his fantasy.

“Joon I’m not risking your career so we can go on a few dates.” You sighed, picking at his shirt at his chest where your hands laid.

“My fans will be happy to see me happy, baby.”

“Ugh let’s not argue about this right now. Do you like your surprise?” You put your arms around his neck as you peck his lips.

“Only if I get to enjoy it with you.”

“Yes yes I guess I’ll go see one of my favourite rappers with you.”

“I love you,” he whispered, bringing his lips to yours to kiss you gently. You returned it equally gently, getting lost in the warmth as he molded his lips to yours, tilting his head to get a better angle and squeezing your ass as he brought you even closer in his embrace. Before things could get heated, you pulled away, smiling as he followed your lips, eyes still closed. You pecked his lips a few times before moving away completely.

“Hey don’t let me distract you. Practice!” 

“You’re such a tease. Meanie.” He pouted as you walked away with a wave in his direction, smirking at his petulance. 

“Love you too Joonie!”

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

Namjoon was drunk. He promised himself at the beginning of the party that he would stay sober to ensure his first party with you went seamlessly, but then the Ilsan boys showed up. The Ilsan boys were his high school friends, dubbed so by you. To say you liked them would be a stretch, since he always got too drunk when they were around, but he couldn’t help it. They made him forget all about being an idol and let loose. They were some of the few people beside you and his family that had that effect. Sitting on the couch that was pulled up to the window, he felt the alcohol race through his veins, and he was in his feelings. Beside him, Harry talked to Sehun, one third of the Ilsan boys as they talked about some tv show. He was happy, so happy he was smiling to himself as he rocked his feet on the ground, a beer in hand. He was happy and as he watched you across the room, he was also a little annoyed.

You were talking to Kang, another one of the Ilsan boys, as Jungkook stood with his arms on top of your head for support and Hoseok laughed at some joke you made. Before the party the two of you had decided not to be the couple that only hung out with each other, and since this party was literally just your closest friends, it was not that hard to do. But right now all Namjoon wanted to do was be petty and shove Jungkook off of you, wrap his arms around you instead and tell you how horny your skinny jeans were making him. Alright, correction. Namjoon was drunk, happy, and horny. 

He bit his lip as he followed your curves with his eyes, watching the way your chest rose as you laughed, and the way your throat moved with each sip of your whiskey. Okay, that’s it. Screw the decision, he was walking over. Plus, he had stayed away for the past three hours, even had to watch you belt out his favourite My Chemical Romance song as you wiggled your butt, that had to count for something. He made his way to your little group, swaying a little as he shoved Jungkook a little too aggressively off you, making him protest over his spilled beer, before putting an arm possessively over your shoulder. He grinned as you leaned in, continuing your conversation.

“As I was saying there is no way Y/N is a sub. No fucking way!” Kang bellowed from where he stood. Namjoon’s brows furrowed at his comment. Why was he talking about his girlfriend this way? He felt an irrational surge of anger through him. He knew Kang was crass, his talks often devolving to his sex capades a few shots in, but did he really not respect Namjoon enough to be talking this shit in his own home about his girlfriend during their housewarming party?

Namjoon’s grip tightened around you protectively as Kang kept talking about your sex life. You only hummed, seemingly bored as you drank. Turns out you were playing a game, instigated by Kang of course, where you had to guess the other person’s kink, and if someone guesses correctly, you drink if not then the guesser drinks. Apparently you were in the spotlight for the moment.

Namjoon tilted his head, eyes narrowed at his childhood friend and raised an eyebrow. Kang, luckily for him, got the hint, shutting up with an apologetic glance at Namjoon. However, everyone else in the little group seemed to have missed this little interaction.

“I don’t know… I’ve seen hyung’s porn collection. He definitely has a daddy kink.” Jungkook scratched his chin as he slurred out the words, like he was trying to decipher a difficult math problem. 

“Dude Y/N would rather puke than call Namjoonie daddy.” Hoseok laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at you with a knowing smirk. You laughed, a little too hard in your tipsy state, and Namjoon felt his blood run cold. You had definitely said those words to him, even pretended to jokingly gag when he brought it up the first, and only, time. He stood straighter at Hoseok’s comment. Had you told him about this? Why would you tell Hoseok of all people? You weren’t even close! 

His jaw ticked as the group laughed, oblivious to the sudden hurt he felt. He felt exposed, naked and vulnerable, all because of you. He didn’t know if his feelings were elevated with the alcohol in his body, but he suddenly felt like he was losing all trust in you. You didn’t even seem phased, not noticing that his arm was no longer around you as you giggled at their antics.

“Okay. Time to reveal the winner!” You started, your arms wide and voice low as Jungkook used Hoseok’s chest as a makeshift drum, tapping at it lightly in a drumroll.

“Nope.” Namjoon couldn’t help but cut you off. There was no way you were sharing intimate details of your sex life with these idiots. He didn’t know how things worked in Canada, but here in his house he sure as hell was not hearing his friends talk about your kinks. He grabbed your wrist, taking the glass from your hand and placing it on the table before dragging you into the guest bathroom by the kitchen.

“Aww Joonie! Now I have to do three shots!” You pouted at him, oblivious to the storm brewing in his head.

“No.”

It was all he said before he crashed his lips to yours, taking your surprised yelp as an opportunity to roughly press his tongue to yours. He didn’t know what overcame him, he initially wanted to talk to you but something about the utter lack of remorse on your face snapped something in him. Oh those guys didn’t think you were a sub? He was going to prove them all wrong and make you beg for him while no one outside had a clue. It was his biggest turn on after all, to see you confidently striding through every room demanding respect and attention, only to turn into an obedient little girl for him.

He had been horny all night, rocking a semi every time he looked at you, and your little moans as you wrapped your arms around him now only made him harder. He kissed you with more force, removing your hands from around him and pinning them to the door behind you as his lips ventured down your neck to where your blouse started.

He let go of your hands, pleased to see them remain immobile against the door, and reached for your jeans, the same jeans that had been taunting him all evening. Kissing down your body, he pulled the jeans off your legs, turning you around roughly once you stepped out of them. With your ass in front of his face, he couldn’t help himself, biting at the flesh, smirking at your surprised yelp.

He stood up behind you, bending you over the sink. Pulling your shirt up and gripping your jaw, he placed the hem in your mouth. He kissed your neck, keeping his eyes on yours through the mirror as his hands pulled the cups of your bra down to grope you firmly. You didn’t know what had gotten into him suddenly, but you were not complaining, your shirt getting wet as did your panties. Wordlessly, he continued, his hands roaming your body to reach your heat where he didn’t hesitate to slide your panties to the side and thrust two fingers in, making you moan loudly at the sudden stretch. 

At your moan, his lustful eyes met yours as he increased his speed, the sound of your squelching pussy filling the air. Namjoon couldn’t help himself anymore, he needed to be inside you, teach you a lesson for being so oblivious to him. Unbuttoning his jeans, he released his dick, already dripping with precum at how turned on he was at the prospect of one of your friends knowing what was happening behind doors. Without a second thought, he lined himself up at your entrance to plunge himself right to the hilt. 

You moaned at the sudden aggressive move, your skin tingling with excitement to see your boyfriend this needy for you. Namjoon didn’t usually get this aggressive right off the bat, and his rare sexual desire made you heat up, mewling at the stretch. You braced yourself against the counter as you watched Namjoon’s face contorted in pleasure, his jaw tight as he rammed himself into you again and again, leaving your breathless and with your legs shaking.

“Fuck… I can’t believe we’re fucking in the bathroom… at our own party!” you moaned at a particularly hard thrust.

“That’s what you get for being such a fucking tease all night.” Namjoon leaned closer to speak in your ear, his chest molded to your back as one of his hands pulled your nipple while the other turned your head towards him, leaving sloppy wet kisses on your neck. You need more, needed to kiss him, needed his fingers on your clit, anything.

“Joonie…” you mewled, looking at him pleadingly.

“Ah don’t try to get all soft on me now baby.” He smacked your ass, aiming right where his bite mark was visible, making you preen. “Did you think you were funny telling Hobi how you gagged on my cock when I called myself daddy, hmm?” His hips moved hard, pushing you further into the sink, your walls clenching around him and you were sure your hips were going to bruise from where they slammed against the counter. Your skin was pebbling with goosebumps and you felt like you could feel every vein on his cock as he continued to move in you. With his hand on your jaw, he moved your face towards the mirror, enjoying the way your mouth was held open and eyes wide with want.

“Answer me baby. Did you like embarrassing me in front of our friends?” Namjoon knew he really shouldn’t bring his issues into the bedroom, especially when you allowed and trusted him with how you gave up control, but the concoction of hurt, anger and beer in his veins overrode his rationality. 

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you at his words, finally realizing what had gotten him so riled up. Making eye contact in the mirror, you couldn’t tell if this was all part of a scene he’d come up with or if he was serious. Before you could say anything, he spanked you again, his thrusts slowing, but somehow getting harder. Although you were concerned, you couldn’t deny how you could feel your orgasm rising, your walls tightening around him.

“Do you like seeing me get hurt in front of my friends?” He gritted out, his gaze darkened.

“H-hurt?” you stuttered, alarmed.

“Yeah baby, hurt. You think I like you sharing our secrets?” He was back at your neck, nipping the flesh and soothing it with his tongue. “You think I liked you and Hobi laughing at me, pretty girl?” he sneered, but you could see past it. Behind the lust in his eyes, he was actually hurt, his eyes glistening, and although you were enjoying this sudden, surprise sex, your needs could wait.

“Joon… fuck… yellow. Yellow.” You grunted, despite your body begging you to let him continue so you could cum. Suddenly Namjoon froze, pulling out. His eyes softened immediately with concern as he ran his hands up and down your arms to comfort you.

“Shitshitshit sorry! Was that too much? Too rough? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He spoke fast, trying to gauge your expression in the mirror.

“Are you okay? Are you actually mad about Hobi?” You turned around, cupping his face as you looked up at him. He sighed, biting his lip a couple of times and contemplating if he should talk about it now.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I just - it kinda fucked me up.” He averted your gaze, opting to look at the wall next to the two of you, and you felt your heart ache at his words. “Like I was pretty vulnerable when I shared that kink with you and I get it - it’s cliched and basic and you weren’t into it but I feel like you guys were laughing at me. I don’t like getting laughed at by my girlfriend behind my back with one of my best friends.” He looked at you towards the end of his statement, the fiery look back in his eyes. You knew he was mad, but truly he had no reason to be. In fact, thinking more about it made you sad that he would think that you would purposely kink shame him or laugh at him for any reason.

“I’m so sorry Joonie. It’s not even like that. I’m so sorry baby. Do you wanna talk about -” But before you could finish your sentence, he spun you around again.

“No.” He spoke firmly, lining himself once again, fully back into his dominant persona. “Much. Rather. Fuck. My. Frustrations. Out. Colour?” He punctuated each word with a snap of his hips, making you mewl, your earlier lost orgasm revving back up slowly.

“Green. Fuck Joon!” He bent you over further at your words, holding tightly to your hips as he fucked you.

“Tell me when you’re close, baby. You don’t get to cum tonight.” He spoke, his voice strained from his harsh movements. Oh, he must be really mad. Namjoon took pride in making you cum, often overstimulating you, but this was new. He’d never flat out denied you an orgasm before, and the thought made you want to cum even more.

“Joonie. I’m sorry. Please... fuck! You feel so good.” You mewled, looking at him with puppy eyes. You didn’t know how long you could hold your orgasm if he continued, the coil in your stomach tightening at his every move.

“No can do pretty girl you gotta learn your lesson.” He smirked, spanking your ass for good measure, the slap ricocheting through the walls of the small bathroom. You really hoped nobody needed to pee, glad that the music was pretty loud, you could almost sing along to the SHINEE track in the background.

“Please daddy?” You knew he was mad at you for this, but in your lust-addled, desperate mind you just wanted to do anything to please him.

“Fuck off! Don’t make me ban you from cumming all week.” He gritted out, almost panting with how fast he was going, chasing his own release as he spanked your ass twice. 

“God. Oh my god, Joon!” You felt him get sloppy, almost on the brink of your orgasm. Namjoon could feel you tighten impossibly hard, and with one last thrust he pulled out, stroking himself before cumming on your ass with a loud groan. You whined, your head on your arms as you felt your orgasm ebb away, your clit throbbing in need.

Namjoon leaned next to you, catching his breath, as he looked at your wrecked state, legs shaking, hair a mess, your tits hanging out of your bra.

“Did you cum?” he asked, stroking your hair as you looked up at him.

“No…” He kissed you at that, gently and quickly.

“Good girl. Now let’s clean you up, we have a party to host.” He buckled his pants, as he handed you some toilet paper, fixing your shirt, and once you cleaned up, helping you put your pants back on. He was still hurt, but weirdly sated. He knew it would take time for him to get over this, but he still felt lucky knowing that you’d understand as he watched you fix your makeup in the mirror.

“Joon, are you still mad?” You spoke after a few minutes, voice uncharacteristically meek, making Namjoon wish he waited till after the party was over, so he could tend to you properly after being so rough.

“A little. It’s just kind of stings right now.” He spoke after a few beats of contemplation leaning against the sink. When in other relationships, he got used to just saying he was fine, with you he felt that he could be honest even if it hurt, and although he still felt somewhat betrayed, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m sorry, truly. I swear it’s not what you think. We weren’t laughing at you, promise! I love you.” You looked at him with such sorrow that he almost felt stupid for having such feelings, wanting to pacify you, but he knew you’d hate it if he did so.

“Ah don’t make that face.” He pouted at you slightly, cupping your face in his hands.

“What face?” You ask, eyes wide, cheeks a little squished by his hands and he felt his heartbeat accelerate.

“That face! Makes me want to kiss you.” He whispered, before capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones.

“Joonie… baby, talk to me.” You pleaded, you hands on his, but he just leaned down to peck your forehead instead.

“Shh, yellow on this convo for now. Let’s just go back to the party. I love you too, pretty girl.” He smoothed your hair once again, before moving to the door. He paused at your lack of movement, turning around to see you frowning as you looked at him. He knew you wanted to talk it out, it was in your nature to solve problems immediately, but Namjoon needed time. If he talked about it now, he would probably get angry, or worse start crying. He needed to think things through. 

“Even when you’re mad?” you said quietly.

“Even when I’m mad. Now let’s go before anyone figures we’re missing.” He took your hand and walked you out, the party none the wiser of your little indiscretion. However, if anyone was paying attention, they would have noticed how off the mood was between the two of you, your smiles not reaching your eyes, and your cups always empty.

---------- 

You stared at the screen, the cursor blinking as you tried to put your thoughts together. This expansion into Japan was going to be the death of you. You had been working on the strategy for months now but nothing appealed to the board who never lost the opportunity to remind you of your age or lack thereof. With your combined shares Harry and you could technically override any of their decisions, but antagonizing the board further would only lead to more problems in the future so you just grinned and bore it. 

You had spent all day at the office trying to figure out the new strategy to beat out the competing company that already existed in Tokyo to get sufficient market share to make the expansion viable. Siwon had been kind enough to be your scribe while you word vomited at him but as you looked at the page now it made little sense. You were kind of embarrassed that he had to type out this bullshit.

Frustrated at your lack of progress, you looked at the clock, and reading the 11:34 pm displayed there with a grimace as you stood up to walk to the kitchenette on your floor. Starting a pot of coffee you talked to yourself as you fidgeted with the cups, stacking them this way and that. You kind of wished Harry would’ve stayed late tonight to talk through the strategy with you but apparently Jen had been pretty annoyed with all his late nights so you had no choice but to do it alone. You didn’t mind it as much usually, you enjoyed the silence of the empty building, enjoyed filling it with your favourite songs as you worked through your thoughts.

Tonight however you were pretty annoyed to be working late. After the party, Namjoon had spent Sunday sulking about, still refusing to talk out what you thought was a minor issue of miscommunication. If you were being honest, part of your frustrations tonight might be due to the fact that a part of your brain kept pestering you with the same thoughts. Mom was right, you moved in and look, already not talking to each other. If you can’t resolve this tiny fight, how will you have a future? He’s probably sick of you already.

Trying to practice your coping mechanisms, you let the thoughts pass through your head. They were just negative thoughts, they did not define you as a person, do not react to them. You took a deep breath, focusing instead on the task ahead.

As you walked to your desk with your third cup of coffee of the evening and thought about your business plans, you started resenting your board more and more. It was one thing to want a flawless strategy but they failed to understand that there was literally no strategy in the world that would be as risk averse as they wanted. They thought you too impulsive, too bull-headed to do something that was low risk. They had the audacity to think that you were building all the riskiest strategies on purpose when in reality to get the outcome you wanted there had to be an equal amount of risk to go with it. Sighing, you started typing your thoughts, bulleted, on the doc as your phone rang.

“Namjoon?” you asked as soon as you picked up the phone, a bit surprised that this is how he was choosing to break his pseudo silent treatment.

“Just called so you’re not startled.” You heard Namjoon twice, once in your speaker and once from right in front of you. Regardless of his efforts, you jumped in your seat to see him standing in front of you. Holding your hand on your heart, you looked up at your boyfriend standing over your desk in a matching pair of grey sweats and sweater, a black mask under his chin as he looked at you with amusement at your reaction. It never failed to endear him how you were easily startled at the smallest things. 

“Did you eat yet?” He asked as he leaned over the desk, his lips puckered. Sighing a yes, you kissed him, feeling your stress reduce at the touch, relieved that he seemed to be more open to communicating now.

“What brings you here?” You asked, reclining back in your seat as Namjoon pulled up a chair next to you.

“I just got done. Thought I’d pick you up.”

“How did you even know I was still here?”

“Boyfriend senses.” He winked, his arm resting on the back of his chair. You raised an eyebrow, skeptical, and really wishing he didn’t go all the way home to come back. “Fine. Siwon texted me. You know it’s bad form to worry your assistant so much he has to call your boyfriend for back up.”

“I’m sorry he texted you.” You leaned forward in your chair with a sheepish smile. Inside however, you were glad Siwon had given Namjoon a push to talk to you. Knowing Siwon you were sure it wasn’t a random concern but probably born out of your talk with him this morning.

He made a noise stating his displeasure at your apology and shaking his head, before reaching out to hold your hand where it lay on your lap. “So when’s this due?”

“Can we talk about Saturday night?” You answered his question with your own, dreading a mood swing, but impatient to explain your side and ease his worries. You really wanted things to go back to normal. Even though it had only been one day, you missed him. He had barely cuddled you in his sleep the last two nights, and you missed the intimacy, and as needy as it sounded in your head, you just wanted him to hold you.

He sighed deeply, leaving your hand to run his hands over his face. With his elbows on his knees, he hunched down, covering his face. He really should let you explain, but he was tired from practice and he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to deal with an argument. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it.” 

“Please. Let me explain.” You stood from your chair squatting in front of him and pulling his hands away to make him look at you. With another sigh of resignation, Namjoon nodded for you to continue.

“Hoseok doesn’t know anything. He said that as a joke randomly.” You spoke carefully, watching Namjoon’s eyes widen as he frowned. “Honestly he’s been your friend for so long I just assumed you told him that’s why he was looking at me like that. You know I didn’t agree or disagree. I just laughed because of the memory.”

Namjoon felt like an idiot. It was such a simple explanation. He was kicking himself for not thinking about this earlier, for spending a whole day avoiding you. As he looked at the earnesty in your eyes, he wanted to go back in time and smack himself on the head for making you feel guilty over this non-issue.

“I’m a fucking asshole,” he groaned, covering his face as he rolled his chair away from you in shame. You stood, walking over to him before pulling his hands away yet again, sitting in his lap sideways. His hands instinctively went around your waist, making sure you didn’t slip off. 

“No I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed,” you whispered, frowning as you put your arms around his neck, playing with the hair on his nape.

“I’m such an idiot,” he sighed, rubbing his hand on your thigh, his touch sending a comforting warmth through you. “Also, I’m sorry for earlier.”

“For what?”

“Not letting you cum.” He looked so devastated, his lips pulled down by his guilt as he stared at you, that all you could do was giggle. It was silly that he thought some of the best sex you’d had was bad just because you didn’t cum.

“It’s fine you were in your dom persona.” You smoothed his hair as you kissed his cheek, making him shyly turn away from you, before he looked at you with a determination in his eyes.

“No it’s not fine. In all the research I’ve done one thing they always warned against was domming angry or like using it to resolve issues or punish your partner in a way they didn’t know what started the punishment, and I don’t know what came over me. I was mad and it was unfair of me to use our kinks against you.” He ranted, his frown getting deeper as his grip around you got tighter. With all his goofy antics around you usually, you forgot how serious Namjoon could get, and although the two of you had promised each other to be honest, it was still jarring to hear his rant. It meant he had been thinking about his actions and it bothered you that he was feeling guilty. When he stopped to take a breath, you brought his lips to yours, kissing him with all the affection you could muster. It wasn’t hard - showing him you loved him. In fact, it was the easiest thing to do, as you let your lips assure him and ease the storm in his head.

“I’m perfectly okay Joonie. It was hot.” You chuckled as you broke away and met his gaze filled with adoration. You felt lucky to have him in your life, and although this fight didn’t seem to have lasted that long, you missed him. Kissing him at midnight in your office, you felt content, your stress from the day melting away at his touch.

“Still. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you?” He said as he kissed you again. “Let’s go home, baby.” 

You stood and as you packed your stuff, he clung on to you, nuzzling your neck, equally missing your touch. Although you were headed home, you felt it in his arms already.

-

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[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Everyone Secretly Wants You

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,528

Warnings: None

Summary: The Doctor takes her fam to an art gallery, showcasing the work of Ava Centuria, her favourite artist of the 42nd century. However, she gets more than she bargained for when said artist takes a keen liking to you.

A/N: I know today has been... a lot. So here's something short and fluffy I wrote to take my mind off of things. Keep yourselves safe and surrounded by love my friends. All the best everyone and lots of love ❤️

“Well then,” Graham said. “Art galleries have certainly changed.”

You had to agree. It didn’t really look like any sort of art gallery you had ever seen before. There were people performing on stages, gallery goers were dressed in multi coloured neon robes, and food that changed shape on on the trays the waiters carried around. It looked like some sort of fancy festival, and you felt like any second you would see Billie Eilish casually stroll around beside you.

You loved it.

“It’s the 42nd century Graham!” The Doctor cried. She was hard to miss, she had replaced her coat with one that was a bright neon blue. “No one cares about stuffy rich people etiquette at these sort of things, it’s why Ava Centuria is so amazing! She completely reshaped societal norms, she made kooky mainstream.”

“Sounds like fun,” Yaz said encouragingly, and she was giving the Doctor a pair of thumbs up. It looked comical, her finger nails were each a different neon colour, and she wore a black suit with neon coloured stripes, reminding you of the kind of thing a school principal would wear to a carnival, except, well, neon.

As the five of you entered, you passed a towering banner that had a woman’s face plastered across and the word ‘Welcome’ written beside her. She was quite beautiful, with sharp cheekbones, long curly black hair, and painted red lips.

“Woah,” Ryan said, as the whole lot of you craned your heads so you could see it more clearly. Ryan had gone all out for the gallery, and had neon green wings painted under his eyes, which matched the neon green blazer he was wearing over a white shirt. “Is that her? This Ava chick.”

“Yup,” The Doctor said proudly. “Oh I can’t wait to meet her, I bet she’s a riot.”

Then a pair of bells rang and you jumped, clutching onto the Doctor with a yelp. Your heart sat in your throat and the Doctor placed her hand onto yours. You soon found your gaze met with hers, and your heart continued beating rapidly, but this time, for an entirely different reason. In this light her eyes almost looked like they were bright green. They sparkled under the light, and for a moment, you were mesmerised.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, tearing yourself off of her. “Just startled.”

A small marching band began walking past, wearing bright red uniforms. One of them blew something that looked like a kazoo, and it let out the shrilling bell sound that had just startled you. The Doctor gasped, her eyes shining in delight. “Oh I am following that,” and without another word, she had zoomed off.

The rest of you looked at each other, exasperated. After one moment, then another Yaz rolled her eyes. “Alright, okay, I’ll follow her. If we get into trouble I’ll ring.”

“Not too loud I hope,” Ryan said with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to startle Y/N.”

You gave him a glare, that was only half fake.

“Oh nah,” Yaz said, and met Ryan’s smirk. “Without the Doc around, there’s no one for Y/N to cling on to!”

You began to splutter out a protest but the other’s laughed, and before you knew it, Yaz jogged off with a wave.

You sighed dejectedly. “I really was freaked out.”

“We know,” Graham said. “Just teasin’ is all.”

You, Ryan, and Graham began exploring the art gallery. Ryan nudged you on the shoulder. “When’re you gonna tell her anyway?”

“Tell who what?”

“You can play confused around her,” Graham said, by your other side. “But we know better.”

You rolled your eyes, and a waitress appeared in front of you, offering you a platter. You watched for a moment as the collection of little cakes changed from neon orange to neon cyan, and they looked almost as if they were glowing. It was so cool. You plucked one off the tray and shoved it into your mouth, nodded your thanks and then grinned ruefully at your friends as you sidestepped away from them.

The cake was nice. it wasn’t a flavour you could identify, but it was sweet and fluffy, like a cloud.

Graham took three.

“C’mon Y/N,” Ryan said, skirting around the waitress so he could catch up to you. “You know she likes you back.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” you lied. “I just want to eat some cake and look at some funky art.”

Also a lie.

Graham held out one of the cakes to Ryan, and, in doing so, essentially barred you in between them. Ryan took off a chunk and popped it into his mouth. “What’s got you so worked up about it anyway, it’s not as if you’re as emotionally awkward as she is,” he sounded like he was speaking from experience.”

“You too,” you said. “Are the worst wingmen in the history of wingmen ever. Now I’m going to go over…” You glanced around the room, trying to find an area that was relatively crowded. “There,” you said, pointing at a crowd of people gathered around a stage where a man was eating… was that fire? Wow. “So,” you continued. “If you’re going to butt your noses into my love life, I suggest you keep up.”

You dove under Graham’s arm and ran. Look, it wasn’t as though you didn’t like them – of course you did, they were some of your best friends. But it was awkward talking about the Doctor. It was so confusing, she, was so confusing, and you didn’t have the energy to think about it right now.

You slipped into the crowd and scurried to the front, dogding and weaving through neon coloured bodies. When you made it you ducked, turning around so you could try and find Graham and Ryan through the gaps in the people.

There, in the back, towards the right. They were standing around like lost puppies. Good, you had definitely lost them.

Slowly, you navigated your way through the crowd until you were by the other side. This area was far quieter, and you ducked into a narrow hallway.

You’d lost them, and with it, you had lost those annoying questions.

You’d find them soon enough, you just needed ten minutes where a ‘will they, won’t they’ conversation wasn’t the focal point of anything and everything your friends wanted to talk about. Ten minutes without knowing smiles and staring at each other like they were in on some secret, or like they were characters on The Office.  

You found yourself in a relatively empty room, save a few individuals. There was clothing propped up everywhere, and you quickly realised it was on display like a stagnate fashion show. Slowly, you began walking around the room, taking it all in.

And then you saw it.

Completely and utterly confused, you stood in front of a dress. You caught snatches of conversation from the people next to you, who were praising the piece for its creativity and out-of-the-box presentation, but to you... well, it was ugly.

It held a clattering of different patterns; the skirt was made with stripes of cheetah print, rainbow polka dots, red gingham, and acid washed denim. The top clashed even more, and was made of a sequinned fabric, one that, when you moved it, you assumed would change colour.

You weren't sure if it was supposed to be an open smock or a cape, but a sheer, neon orange fabric was drapped around behind the dress and over the arms of the mannequin. It ended in huge black ruffled lace, lining the mannequins wrists and the kissing the floor.

Now, this wouldn't be too bad if there were any structure to the dress, but it was cut into a t-shirt shape, so there wasn't any reason, practically or otherwise, to separate the skirt from the top.

Not to mention the Edwardian style ruff collar that sat around the neck, was made out of, of all things, CD’s – which apparently still existed. You wondered if it was a commentary on something, though you couldn't think of what.

You screwed your face up, concentrating, trying to find something, just a single element about the dress that you liked. It was just... awful, you were sure you could even argue that as an objective fact. Surely the thing broke some sort of laws about fashion and style.

"It's a social experiment," a warm voice said beside you, and you jumped. You hadn't heard anyone coming.

You turned to face the person who owned the voice, and assessed her thoughtfully. You recognised her, but you weren't sure from where.

"I thought I would explain it to you," she continued. "Since you were quite obvious on your distaste for the piece."

The realisation dawned on you like a wave of ice water, running through your mind and down into your bones. Her high cheekbones, her wry cherry red smirk,  her unruly, uncontrolled black curls dancing under the light as she cocked her head to the side, it couldn't be.

But it was. Standing beside you was Ava Centuria, the artist whose work was on display.

The artist who had designed this dress.

The artist who had just called you out on not liking her dress.

Your realisation must have shown on your face, because she broke out in a pearly laugh. "I do appreciate constructive criticism though. So, tell me, what don't you like about it?"

You gauged her thoughtful. Part of you was about to splutter out an apology, tell her that you actually really did like her work. But that would be a lie, and somehow, under Ava Centuria's warm gaze, lying to her just didn’t feel right.

You looked back to the dress, then to her. “Honestly. I… I just think it’s ugly.”

She let out a delighted laugh again, and you realised it was actually quite a lovely sound. “You’re the first to say that.

”“Is that a bad thing?” You asked, because really, you had just insulted her work, and she seemed happy about it.

“It’s refreshing,” she said, and she regarded the dress. “And you’re right. It is ugly. I made it so on purpose.”

This just made you more confused. “I’m sorry? Why would you do that?”

She gave you a kind smile, and you felt yourself warm in response. Ava Centuria really was striking, it looked like she had been moulded by the gods. She was the kind of beautiful that poets wrote about. “Like I said, it’s a social experiment.”

You smiled at that, thinking of the Doctor. You would have to show her this, she loves a good experiment. “What are you experimenting?”

“People,” she said, and she brushed her arm over your elbow, guiding you with her to look around the room. Her touch was warm, and you found that you didn’t mind her touching you at all.

“I find it terribly interesting,” she said, her voice low and soft in your ear. She was so completely close – you could smell her perfume, which was sweet, like a warm Spring breeze. “That something could be completely mundane, or even downright awful, but, if you give it prestige, suddenly everyone completely and utterly adores it,” when she turned to look at you again, her eyes sparkled. “It is why I appreciate you, you are honest. It is not something I am accustomed to.”

It was a sobering statement. “That seems like a lonely way to live.”

Her expression faltered, her wry grin falling into a small, sad, smile. “It can be” she gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes, though, I am lucky enough to find someone who can make the days just a little bit brighter.”

You thought about the Doctor, who lied so often, and kept so many secrets. Was she lonely too? Even with the fam, even with you with her? Did you help make her days brighter?

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said after a moment, recatching your attention.  “But I didn’t seem to catch your name.”

You noticed she had still not let go of your arm, and was caressing you slightly with her thumb.

You chuckled. “I never gave it.”

“Surely then you must share it.”

You told her your name and she smiled. “Ah. Y/N. It is fitting. It is a beautiful name for an equally beautiful person.”

You felt your eyes widen and your ears tense. Had she just-

“I am an artist,” she continued. “I know these things.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. It wasn’t often people as gorgeous as Ava Centuria just casually flirted with you.

She stuck out her other hand. “I am Ava, by the way.”

It was such a bizarre turn of events that it startled a laugh out of you. You took her hand. “I know who you are, Ms Centuria.”

“Ava,” she repeated. “And, I know. But I felt it was important for a formal introduction, especially when one considers what I am about to ask you.”

You paused at that. Ask what?

“I would like to give you a tour,” she said. “A personal one, just for you. I would very much like to hear your thoughts on my collection and…” her movement on your arm faltered. “I would very much like to get to know you better, if you would let me.”

Under the lighting, Ava’s hair seemed to glow, like a halo of light was wrapped around it. She looked ethereal, and you couldn’t believ that she had just –

Oh gosh, Ava Centuria had just asked you on a date. Now. As in, immediately.

“Oh Y/N,” a familiar voice called out. “There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You turned to see the Doctor strolling up, her neon blue coat billowing behind her. She… there was no other word for it, she looked awkward. Her hands were balled into fists, and she was giving you a strained smile. Behind her, across the other side of the room, stood Yaz and Ryan. Yaz was giving you an incredulous look, as if you had just taken the last cake from a tray, and Ryan, Ryan looked like he was about to whoop into the air, or shake you.

You had no idea how to interpret either of those looks.

“Doctor,’ you said and her smile softened as she met your gaze.

You turned back to Ava, sure that you had flushed, and untangled yourself from her grasp. The Doctor was beside you - and when had she appeared? She wrapped her arm around your frame, pulling you in to your side. "You must be Ava Centuri?" She said, but her smile seemed too wide, too forced. "Oh I'm a big fan!"

Ava stiffened. “Well,” she said, and her voice was distant. “It appears I am at  a disadvantage, Y/N has not told me about you.”

“Oh! Well that’s surprising, I’m Y/N’s number one. We’re very, very close, Y/N and I,” her other hand fell across your arm, the spot where Ava had just been holding you. “We’re two peas in a pod, birds of a feather, made from the same cloth, you could say. Oh, a match made in heaven! Like Bonnie and Clyde,” she scrunched up her face. “No wait, not them, They died.”

“They also killed a lot of people,” you added. “Which wasn’t great.”

“That to,” The Doctor said, nodding to you like it was the most serious conversation you had ever had. She turned back towards Ava. “I’m the Doctor.”

“Well met Doctor,” Ava said, and she seemed to genuinely mean it. “I’m quite sorry though, you see, Y/N and I were-”

“Oh yeah!” The Doctor said. “I’m terribly sorry,” She squeezed your shoulder again, and it looked like the Doctor wasn’t sorry at all. “But we have to be off. We’ve got loads of things to meet, people to see, and places to do,” she scrunched up her face again. “No, wait, that’s the wrong order.”

“Things to do, people to meet, and places to see,” you supplied.

The Doctor grinned at you, utterly delighted. You felt a swell of pride in your stomach, you loved that you were the cause of that smile.

“Ah,” something seemed to dawn on Ava, and she looked in between you and The Doctor. Her eyes lingered on the Doctor’s arm, which was still securely wrapped around your waist. That small, sad smile from earlier returned. “I, I do believe I understand,” she turned to the Doctor. “You have found an angel among mortals, be sure you remember that.”

The Doctor audibly swallowed, and her grip on you faltered, for a moment. “I – uh, yeah. You’re right. Completely right, actually. Always knew you were clever.”

She nodded. “Good,” she turned to you. “And dear Y/N, if you ever find yourself wanting to entertain the whims of a lonely artist, I really would consider myself so very lucky.”

You didn’t know what to say.

She took your hand, and placed a delicate kiss on your knuckles, a part of you felt your arm tingle at the contact. “I best not keep you then. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. Doctor.” She gave the Doctor a consolatory nod, and left.

“Huh,” The Doctor said. “She was… I’m not sure I liked her as much as I thought I would.”

You hummed, not necessarily agreeing, but not really knowing what to say. You watched Ava walk away with a small frown. You hoped she was okay, she had been kind. She deserved kindness.

She wasn’t someone who your heart could belong to.

You turned to the Doctor. “So, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

The Doctor paused, her face falling. It was almost as if you could see the cogs turning in her brain, but you couldn’t work out why she was thinking so hard. “I think Graham’s gotten lost,” The Doctor said suddenly. “So I think it’s high time we find him and get out of here, what’d you say?”

You nodded, and, still holding you, The Doctor and you began walking out the room. You found your friends gathered outside the TARDIS, in fact, neither you or the Doctor had even paused to find Graham. You assumed Yaz and Ryan had done so, when you and the Doctor were talking to Ava.

On the way in, you noticed how the neon everyone was wearing glowed under the crystals. The Doctor was gorgeous in a way you couldn’t describe. She was here, present, by your side. It was so tangible, suddenly.

You had never noticed before, the way her hair softly fell around her face. She had bright neon stripes of green in it, and you wondered, absentmindedly, when she had had them done. The chain from her earring glinted in the soft light, the stars along the chain glittering.

In a soft voice, you asked. “Why the neon, do you think?”

“I dunno,” she said, and she shut the door behind Ryan, the last to enter the TARDIS. He was giving you a funny look, and you chose to ignore him. You chose to ignore Graham and Yaz too, for good measure. You would get embarrassed and fluder, you could already feel it.

“Sometimes,” the Doctor said, after a moment, and she looked around the room. “When you can’t find any brightness, you wonderful humans chose to create it instead. Even in the darkest of times.”

“Us humans?” You smiled, and you took a chance, maybe this time, just once, the Doctor could be honest. “What do you do then, Doc?”

“I don’t need to create it,” she said, her gaze wholly focused on you. “I’ve found it.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. That… The Doctor couldn’t possibly mean what you thought she meant. But she looked at you so intently, as if you were her entire universe. Her gaze flickered across your face, across the neon yellow flowers Yaz had painted on your cheeks, across your nose, and on your lips.

She leaned in, or maybe it was you, and she as so close now.

The sound of a loud cheer shattered the spell. You jumped back in shock.

“Finally!” Ryan cried, all the way from across the console.

You looked up to see Ryan, Graham, and Yaz standing off to the side, watching you like a collection of hawks. Graham and Yaz turned to Ryan in astonishment. Yaz elbowed Ryan and he doubled over. She tugged on his ear and whispered harshly.

The Doctor grinned when she spoke. “I can hear you, y’know.”

You, however, could not.

“Is it true?” She asked them, and you desperately wished you could have heard.

Graham gave you both a look, one which said ‘sort it out yourselves’.

The Doctor turned back to you. “I think you and I need to have a talk, later, when there’s no one else around?”

She looked vulnerable, her eyes wide and pleading, as if you hadn’t been just about to kiss her.

You nodded, giving her a small, warm smile. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

[freckledmountain]

Lulling comfort

By @freckledmountain for @romeoandjulietyouwish

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary:

"Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between. … He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again."

Or, an AU where you hear whatever your platonic soulmate sings or hums! :D

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Change

Some-

BODY ONCE TOLD ME

the WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME

I AIN´T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE sHE-ED

Peter´s endearing screech and dramatics at the starting notes startles a fond laugh out of Tony, making DUM-E beep in curious surprise.

The bot has a screwdriver in his grasp and usually Tony´d chastise him for grabbing tools without permission (he has not forgotten the last lab incident, thank you) but right now he´s much too preoccupied resisting the urge to join in the kid´s slumber party via his own singing.

God bless karaoke.

Peter had looked sheepish when he´d mentioned it to him, the little get-together his scary girlfriend and Ned had planned this weekend at the latter´s place after a ridiculously long week of exams. Tony had absolutely no problem listening to his kid´s voice in his head, but it was still sweet of Peter to ask beforehand.

“You know I work best with music anyway.” He´d said, remembering all the times he´d listened to Peter perform dramatically to songs on the radio.

Peter´d hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling. “Yeah, okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure because Ned might ask me to duet to Take on me again, and last time I sang it you were on a meeting and FRIDAY sent me that video of you mouthing the words and Ms. Potts looked like the disappointed dad from that Shawn Mendes vine- “

…even if he had no idea what the kid was talking about sometimes.

He´d gasped and placed a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Have you forgotten the time you had Call me maybe on loopin my head for an entire day?”

“…It was a dare?”

“Hmm” he´d said, raising an eyebrow playfully as Peter dissolved into laughter. “whatever you say, bud.”

His smile softens unconsciously at the memory as he methodically tweaks a few things in his nanotech suit, still listening to Peter belt out lyrics in his head. Truth be told, he misses the kid working alongside him like usual, but he knows how important spending time with his friends is to Peter.

(The parenting books say it´s imperative too, although of course he hasn´t ever read, purchased five on a whim or fret over anything of the sort. Obviously.)

He hopes Ned and Michelle´s respective other halves don´t mind the kids crooning 80´s rock on a Friday evening, but he guesses if they´re anything like them, they probably won´t complain. Soulmates are cool like that.

He remembers all the times Rhodey had told him about his soulmate´s voice inside his own head, how he´d suddenly perk up and grin at whatever melody he could hear, how he´d start humming randomly to join in.

Tony had grown up hearing nothing but his own treacherous thoughts for the longest time, almost losing hope completely at the possibility of having a soulmate right up until adulthood. Heavy metal music blasted over his speakers constantly whenever he was busy in his workshop, but he never joined in. There were moments when he´d thought his love for singing would be soured forever, since apparently the universe or whoever was in charge didn´t have a problem leaving him without someone out there to share it with him in his head.

Thankfully, he always did have Rhodey, and boycould he kick-start the fun in singing again with his flawless Mariah Carey impressions. He´d loved the few times he´d heard Pepper sing too, and there´d even been one memorable instance where he´d surprised Happy vocalizing in an unexpectedly pleasant lilt.

Hearing Peter sing though...simply put, there was nothing else like it.

-and we could aLL use a little changeeeeeeeEEE

…Yes, nothing was quite like it.

Tony shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his phone to text May about the kid´s shenanigans. She´d been more than a little concerned when Peter and him had figured out who the other was, (that was one heck of a superhero fundraiser) but now they´ve become much closer, and Tony can genuinely say they´re friends. He´s glad to have her on his side, because May Parker is, in Peter terms, a very kind powerhouse, and not someone he´d like to mess with.

He´s about to press send when the lights in the room flash red.

Tony´s up and summoning his gauntlet attentively in a second, right as FRIDAY pulls up screens around him, showing footage of the emergency.

“What am I looking at, FRI?”

“Around 30 heavily armed machines have emerged in Midtown Manhattan, boss.” She responds, as the room fills with projections. The robots on screen are huge and ugly as heck, about the width and height of three school buses together. They´re making their way through the streets surprisingly quickly for how heavy they look. People run away, steering clear of their illuminated blasts. “They appear to be releasing high frequency blasts approximately every ten seconds. Local police have just arrived at the scene and are requesting backup, since the blasts are causing structural damage to the surrounding buildings. The source of these machines is unknown.”

“Tell the team to suit up and meet me there.”

“They have already been alerted, boss, but I´ll relay your message as well.”

The rest of his suit materializes around him, and he makes haste to get to the nearest window, half worried and half downright annoyed at whoever was behind this.

“Another one for the robot bingo card on means of world domination.” He says to himself, unimpressed. Just one week without this crap…

He soars above the sky nonetheless, blasting his way towards the fight.

Please stay put kid, he wishes, even as the singing stops.

---

Three blocks.

He´s three blocks away from where Peter is making his way back when it happens.

As big and fast as the robots are, Tony can tell they weren´t exactly made by the finest of the loons who regularly try to take over New York. Not to mention they´re absolutely appalling to look at, whoever designed these things had absolutely no taste, Tony thinks, crushing his twenty-second bot with the suit´s repulsors. It hasn´t exactly been easy, since the wretched machines have no real apparent motive but to blow up everything in their path, but within an hour it seems they´re done with the worst of it.

He can see Nat and Wanda dealing with the remains of one of the last ones below, while a little way away Cap´s talking with a few cops, scoping out the damage. Even though the air is permeated with smoke and there´s rubble in some places, there are no casualties, and they´ve thankfully emptied out the buildings that got wrecked. SHIELD will take care of the rest.

He flies over the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for any other bots, but it seems like FRIDAY´s finished identifying all of them. He activates a private line on the comms to talk to Peter.

“Done securing the area from whatever that disastrous colour scheme was?”

He can hear Peter´s good-natured groan as his location pops up on Tony´s screen, six blocks away.

“I know, right? I can wear mismatched socks for a week and rock them no problem, but blue with like, eye-melting neon? Yikes.”

“Exactamundo. Couldn´t agree with you more, kid. But hey, it looks like you might actually be able to get back to your sleepover after all. Can´t wait to hear what alarming chorus is going to keep me up until midnight.”

“Oh you just wait, we´re doing ABBA next and it´s gonna be so-“

FRIDAY tears through the conversation with an alarm, but it´s precious seconds too late.

A gasp. An abrupt thud resounding through the comms. A scream. Peter´s.

Tony´s blood freezes in his veins.

“Peter? Peter!?”

He gets there in less than a minute and sees one of the bots with its blaster pointed at Peter, still smoking from the shot.

He obliterates it without a second thought, his mind swirling with fear and rejection at FRIDAY´s next words as he runs towards Spiderman´s crumbled figure.

“No heartbeat detected, boss”.

Chapter 2

The first time he´d ever heard Peter´s voice, he´d been running on three hours of sleep, a frankly heart-attack inducing dose of caffeine, and no motivation whatsoever to sit down with stuffy board members for five hours.

It didn´t exactly come as a surprise that for the first few milliseconds of the “Itsy bitsy spider” chant in his head he´d thought, confusingly, that it might just have been his mind finally resorting to the resurface of old nursery rhymes as a way to tell him to go the frick to sleep.

His heart however, was another matter.

As ridiculous and improbable as it sounded, a new something in his chest rose even before he knew what was happening. He might not have been a machine, but something slowly and irrevocably clicked into place the more he heard that gentle voice go on about water spouts and suns.

He´d stopped short in realization. Blinked.

And then smiled wide enough to lose himself in the mirth of it.

He´d run back to his workshop right after that, laughing like mad with the absolute mayhem of emotions coursing through his whole being, almost crashing into Pepper in the process. She´d looked back at him in concern, questions already forming in her lips, before Tony had frantically mimed at her to keep quiet, wanting to listen to the soft voice´s final notes.

Once the song finished, Tony may or may not have let out a loud shriek of sheer joy and told an increasingly delighted Pepper all about it, practically bursting with excitement.

“Pep! Wait, what do I do now!? Do I- Do I sing it back to him? Do I sing another- crap I don´t even know any children´s songs, JARVIS, JARVIS!”

In the end he´d had to phone Rhodey to yell the news ecstatically to him, because he´d just found maybe the universe hadn´t wanted to screw him over after all, and he felt like screaming it from the rooftops. The little voice was sweet and shy and boyish and happy, and about the best thing Tony had heard in his damn life. He couldn´t have contained himself if he´d tried, and heck if he was going to any time soon.

(“Tones, what- “

“Rhodey!”

“…was that you or a screech owl.”

“It happened! There´s- a little kid! Somewhere! Spiders! My soulmate!”

“The- wait what-? “)

Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between.

…

He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again.

Burning.

He´s burning all over.

Screaming in pain, he tries to escape from the scorching heat, but it´s everywhere, it´s everything, he´s the pain, he´s the fire, everything hurts-

And then as soon as it appears, the pain is gone.

He opens his eyes, blinking woozily.

“Oh, thank God.”

His vision blurs all over for a minute. There´s dampness in the corners, left over from tears.

Tears?

He makes an attempt to sit up, but there´s a hand holding his shoulder gently. He blinks again.

Tries to decipher his surroundings.

He´s laying down in a mostly deserted, grubby looking street. A figure kneels close to him, some sort of red and gold robot type thing. He narrows his eyes at it, trying to figure out why it feels so familiar…but finds, to a detached kind of surprise, that he can´t.

He has no idea what happened.

The robot seems to be very relieved for some reason, just staring up at the sky for a couple of seconds, taking a deep, wheezy breath.

Even with his head feeling like wet cotton, he looks at him with concern. The robot sounds seconds away from fainting. Is he…alright?

When the robot´s face opens and a man´s head peeps out (cool!), he almost jumps back in surprise.

And then…

Well. He still doesn´t have a clue who this person is, but as soon as he sees the man´s expression of utter joy and relief, something inside him settles. Safe.

He blinks in confusion at the feeling. He knows this person. He does.

But who is he?

“Pete? You´re back bud. Do you feel okay?” The man´s (man? robot? man-robot? cyborg? figment of his imagination?) smile fades slightly, looking at him in worry. “FRIDAY” Friday? Who on earth is he talking to? “didn´t you say the CPR made his vitals-“

“I´m- I´m fine” he says, because enormous confusion aside, he is. Maybe his head is scrambled, and he feels exhausted, but he has a feeling he´s been in worse shape before.

A feeling.

The man (he´s decided on man) starts going on about robots, and getting him to a tower with someone called Dr. Cho, but all he can do is blink back, his confusion increasing.

“I´m really sorry” he interrupts, knowing he´s probably going to disappoint the man, but needing to push forward even so, “who- who are you? Are you-? “

He tries to put a word on the feeling seeing the man´s face had evoked in him before, tries to remember who he is or what he has to do with the man or why he feels so…safe. So safe. With him there, even with all the questions going round and round inside his head.

“Are you my dad?”

The man´s face stills. For a second, it looks like his brain short-circuits.

Mood, a thought rings out in his head, unbidden.

That´s when he hears it.

A huge metallic…thing coming through the street towards them, and he doesn´t know why but it makes his heart thump like a rabbit´s in a cage, and suddenly he gets a flash of remembering pain, and he knows these machines, these machines are dangerous, and what if the man gets hurt too-

He pushes the man behind him as he desperately tries to look for somewhere they can hide-

-but the man grabs his hand first and hurries them both towards the sturdiest-looking car on the street, crouching so they´re out of sight.

“Uh, alright. I- this must be really weird for you, but it´ll be okay. Just stay here for now, ´kay? I´ll- We´ll figure this out. You with me?” The man holds his gaze for a second, and it´s so sincere, he finds himself nodding.

The man smiles. “Okay. Give me a sec.” And then he gets up and turns towards the robot.

What the-what´s he doing!?

He reaches out clumsily to drag him back, but the man´s face gets obscured by his robot mask once more and he…

Flies?

The frick? He thinks in bewilderment, as he sees the man lift off and attack the robot with blasts coming from his hands. My maybe-dad can fly!?

Either he lives in a sci-fi novel, or he´s going absolutely nuts.

Could be both at this point, frankly.

The whiz of gold and red fighting the robot is almost quicker than his sight can keep up with, but he persists, looking out anxiously for any opening the robot might have to take the man down so he can try to warn him about it. There is none though, the robot might be exceedingly fast, but the man remains unyielding. He takes another look at the giant machine and sees it´s blaster-

And then it´s like someone takes his brain and shakes it around everywhere, and the throbbing is so sudden he kneels and clutches his head tightly to keep it from falling apart. His thoughts feel shattered and tampered with, and the pain-

He cries out in agony, and tears fill his eyes again.

The man! I have to look out for him!

He tries to listen to the fight again, but just as he tries to focus in on it it´s like a tsunami of yells and police sirens and voices washes over him, and noise, why is there so much noise-

Overwhelmed, he kneels until his forehead touches the grainy concrete, and wishes he would just pass out.

He doesn´t, though.

Among the oversaturated ocean of noise, one adds to the mix.

Except this one isn´t grating. This one doesn´t make everything seem like too much.

Because it feels like it´s coming from within himself.

He´s at a loss for what´s happening, but the voice slowly and lightly blocks out all the other noise, grounding him in a gentle tune. In a flash, he recognizes the song. He knows where he heard it last.

Mr Stark.

And he remembers.

“Kid? What are you doing up?”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Baby Tarzan laughs onscreen.

He half expects Mr Stark to push him for more details, but he seems to understand Peter´s not in a talking mood and walks up to him solemnly.

“Scoot.”

He does, and Mr Stark plops down next to him, wordlessly extending his arms out in invitation. Peter falls into the hug gratefully and sighs. Exhaustion pulls down on his bones, but he´d rather not get back to the nightmare he woke up from. Mr Stark snorts softly at something in the movie, and then they both jump a bit at the sudden loud gorilla roar. They keep watching the movie, and Peter´s curls are brushed back gently in a soothing motion.

He wants to sleep. But he can´t.

But he´s safe here, isn´t he?

His chest grows heavier as he thinks of the dream, and when he blinks, his eyelids dampen. He hasn´t shed a tear yet, but Mr Stark must sense something again because his hand at Peter´s hair stills.

And then he starts singing.

It´s a lulling comfort, and Peter melts into the embrace, allowing his tired eyes some rest.

He´s safe.

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

He´s safe.

With a final shot from Iron man´s repulsors, the robot powers down, and Peter runs out to meet Mr Stark, almost crushing his ribs in a hug.

“Woah, woah!” The helmet´s visor pulls up, revealing a grinning Tony. “Did that actually work? FRIDAY told me you were freaking out and I thought it might help calm you down.” He says, hugging him back. “But it did more than that, didn´t it?”

Peter´s too relieved to do anything but nod happily into his shoulder, but he gets the point across.

They stay there for a full minute, just holding on to each other. Until Tony grumbles out a “and I can´t believe you remembered Phil Collins before Iron man, seriously.” and Peter bursts out laughing, lightening the mood.

“The man didn´t sing that soundtrack in five languages for nothing, Mr Stark. It slaps.”

Tony hides his smile in Peter´s curls, and hugs him close.