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loominggaia · 3 years

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“Okay New York Anon here. I’m really sorry about this chapter and regret writing it, the way i did. Thinking about it post production I’m realizing I made it come off as transphobic and tasteless. Angry guy was supposed to be a parody of the stereotypical sjw you’d see in a cringe comp violently going off on people for accidentally being mis gendered. Sorry if this train wreak of a chapter offends anyone.”

Anon, I’m so honored that you would spend the time to write fanfiction about my series. Not everyone is a perfect writer (I’m sure not), and personally I don’t believe that every piece of writing has to “set a good example” when it comes to politics and morality. The Looming Gaia series is for ages 18+, not preschoolers. I think adults have the mental capacity to differentiate between right and wrong and form their own opinions when they’re reading something (at least I hope they do), so I’m going to go ahead and post your story.

But I also care about my followers’ well-beings, so I’m going to compromise and: 1) Put this chapter under a cut so they don’t have to see it if they don’t want to. 2) Put a content warning ahead of it so they can decide if it’s worth the risk.

If anyone proceeds from here and gets offended, that’s 100% their own fault. I care a lot about writing an inclusive series that doesn’t alienate anyone based on race, gender, sexuality, and so on. At the same time, I’m hugely against censorship, so I always welcome fan content even if it’s off-color or I don’t personally agree with what it’s trying to say (barring anything illegal or blatantly hateful towards any group; i.e. glorification of pedophilia or abuse, calls to real-world violence, supporting real-world hate groups, etc. I will never accept that kind of content. If anyone comes in here praising nazi ideaologies or calling for action against LGBT folks, they can fuck right off.)

Readers, you’ve been thoroughly warned.

You can read the other parts here.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This fan content contains scenes of captivity, mental hospitals, depictions of violence, off-color depiction of a transgender individual, and (censored) racial slurs. While reading this, I personally didn’t get the impression that Anon meant any harm. It comes off as goofy, edgy, over-the-top satire to me, like something you’d see in an episode of South Park. Use your best judgement and proceed at your own risk.

(content under cut)

The crew had squatted in an abandoned building on the outskirts of the city that night. They already knew that only humans existed in this world and the reaction that lady had to seeing Elska only compounded the need for stealth. Their only plan right now being find Evan and get back to Gaia. That morning the crew split up, Alaine and Lukus where to continue searching for Evan, Issac and Jeimos where to go shopping, Elska would search the outskirts out of sight and Zeffer would search at night.

Evan was not mad at doctors for keeping him hear. He knew they where just doing their jobs and where concerned for him, since magic, elves and werewolves where fictional to them he understood he looked like a crazy person to them. That didn’t take away from how annoying it was to be trapped here in this stupid hospital. Knowing his crew was out their somewhere he knew he needed to leave and contact them somehow, he needed a escape plan.

He had two plans so far, plan A was to butter up the therapist into letting him go. Behave himself, take his meds, admit Gaia’s not real and say he’s feeling better. Hoping that upon seeing this drastic improvement the therapist will approve his release and he can finally go out and find his friends. Plan B was in case plan A failed. He would bust himself out of here and go on the run. He really didn’t want to hurt anybody, just slip out unnoticed, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy.

Issac and Jeimos wandered around the city streets aimlessly in absolute awe of the sights and sounds all around them. Jeimos was getting more unnerved by not being capable of feeling any magic in their surroundings and was starting to wonder if it was just all the iron nearby or something more? Not being able to read any of the signs around them made trying to find a store to stock up on supplies difficult. Finding a food place with golden arch’s they go their as their first stop.

The pair enter this strange restaurant, the place smelling of grease and fry oil. Theirs quite the line so they just wait, taking a look around and absorbing the experience. They see a lot of interesting people and things from pictures of a clown holding a burger, groups of people on strange devices and messy families eating, an extremely obese man the two mistook for a troll horking down a massive pile of greasy food. Kids running in and out of a indoor jungle gym. This place had it all.

They waited their turn almost at the register, waiting behind a mother and her kids who kept changing her order every three seconds and trying to corral her kids. The cashier, a young man around issacs age but with a tired, dead look in his eyes that made him look as if he’s seen a war zone rang the lady up and ushers our pair to the register, asking in a flat, apathetic voice what they would like to order. Neither of them can read the electronic menu so using the numbers and pictures they order

The disgruntled cashier rang them up, totaling their order up to over $55! Him not being pleased by Jeimos’s constant questions and issac playfully asking for a kids toy. They try to pay, placing some gold coins on the counter. The cashier just looks at the coins then back to them, and, in an even more annoyed voice, told them they only take usd, not foreign currency. Telling them they can either pay in cash or card or just leave, the line was building up behind them and getting restless.

Jeimos trying to salvage this, nervously ask if theirs anything they can work out. Not wanting to have wasted their time. The cashier breaths deeply, saying he’ll get the manager, leaving the counter behind. The people in line are angrily starting at the two, Issac having a ball and Jeimos being highly uncomfortable with all the staring and swearing from them. The cashier returns with a fat, sleezy looking middle age man, presumably the manager. Him asking what’s going on here?

The cashier explains the situation in his most annoyed, apathetic tone with the manager glancing over the two. He repeats what the cashier told them, they only take usd and if they can’t pay then just leave, their clogging up the line. Jeimos try’s to explain this is all they have and is about to give up when Issac speaks up and tells them the coins are solid gold. That catch’s the managers attention, who in a greedy smile picks up the coins to check, seeing yes, their real gold!!!

His greedy smile grows wider and he tells them they can understand work something out! Snatching up the gold coins and apologizing for the inconvenience, talking about his no good employees and starts berating the cashier right in front of them for being “rude and unhelpful” to such fine paying customers! The cashier takes one look at his boss, takes off his hat and apron shoving them into his bosses hands and just says, completely monotone “I quit” and walks out without a second glance.

Meanwhile, Lukus and Alaine where walking down the streets through the massive crowds looking for any sign of Evan. Despite trying to keep a low profile they where gathering a lot of attention, walking through down town in medieval armor and brandishing weapons tends to do that. While walking outside a storefront Alaines eyes are caught by a beautiful blue dress, he being mesmerized by. “Nice cosplay” she hears suddenly from behind, Turing around to see a short, well dressed women behind her.

Alaine jut awkwardly thanks her for the compliment. The women also compliments Alaines scales, believing them to be a make up design for whatever cosplay she’s doing. The women introduces herself as Kimi and ask if she was looking at that dress in the window. Alaine answers yes and now both are both gawking at and gushing over the dresses beauty. Kimi complaining about the ludicrously high price tag but before their conversation can continue Lukus calls back to her, wondering where she is?

Alaine snaps back on into mission mode as Lukus returns. She apologizes to Kimi for leaving and tells her their looking for someone, asking if she’s seen a large blonde man with a metal leg. She says no but wishes them luck on trying to find their friend. The two head off once again search the city streets for Evan and once again have no luck, it didn’t help that a lot of people where stopping them, asking for photos of their “costumes” and asking what characters their dressed as?

After hours of searching and coming up empty handed both where rather hungry. Stopping at a cafe looking place to grab a quick bite. The place smelled of coffee and a sign outside had a picture of a twin tailed mermaid on a green background. As they where waiting in line observing all the weird people around them they saw a familiar face ahead of them, Kimi. She had a coffee in her hands and was thanking the barista but didn’t see them. Neither did she see the weird guy she bumped into.

The guy she bumped into looked ridiculous to Alaine and Lukus, having fluorescent pink cloths, big goofy glasses and a oversized beanie I’ve this colorful hair. The guy yelled at her to watch where she’s going, she apologized but then she said sir. The pair could already sense this guy would be trouble as the moment kimi said “sir” it looked as if the weird guys was about to explode. SIR!!! He screamed, grabbing everyone’s attention, his face beat red and eyes bulging in rage!

To say he exploded on Kimi would be an understatement, he started loudly screaming at her “ did you just misgender me”!!! The screaming got even louder as he started listing off a bunch of gibberish and loudly insulting her, calling her sexist, anti-lgbt, telling to kill herself and die in a hole. His screaming getting more incoherent and seemed to be literally frothing at the mouth. Kimi was just backing away, scared and trying to apologize but the guy just kept screaming over her plea’s.

(Feel like I need to put a trigger warning for this one so here it is. Trigger warning for Lukus and Alaine getting in a fight with ‘that kind’ of trans guy, the kind responsible for all the negative stereotypes about the trans community. And Issac being called a racial slur. You have been warned.)

Alaine and Lukus stepped in to stop this dude from hurting Kimi. He seriously looked like he was about ready to punch her. They stepped in and tried to diffuse the situation, putting themselves between kimi and the angry man. They try to explain to him that how could she have known he wasn’t cis, that’s it’s an honest mistake and to let it slide. That only seemed to pissed him off more as he threw a drink in Alaines face and shoved Lukus in anger, wrong move.

Just as Lukus was winding up a punch Alaine beat him to it, knocking the asshole clean to the floor in a single strike. He went down like a sack of potato’s and was laying out cold. The three just left, taking Kimi and leaving. Alaine was fuming but if she where calmer she would have noticed it was water he threw at her, and would have also noticed she didn’t flop to the floor in her aquatic form, she was too pissed off the notices.

Kimi thanks them for saving her from that crazy guy and try’s frantically to explains to them she’s pro-lgbt, always try’s to respect peoples pronouns and is actually a lesbian herself. They cut her off, she didn’t need to explain herself to them. On the flip side Jeimos and Issac are carrying back their huge bags of fast food back to the groups hideout waiting to hear any news. Issac see’s a downed old man and the street and rushed to help him.

Just as Issac was reaching out to help him the old man swats him away, screaming at him. “Keep your hands off me you filthy N@$$#r”! Heads turn and people stop dead in their tracks in pure shock at what they just heard. Issac and Jeimos had no idea what that weird word meant but it guessing by the crowds reaction, it was really bad. The old man gets himself up and goes off on a racist rant, accusing Issac of trying to steal from him, calling all his “kind” low-life scum and just screams at him.

First of all Anon, your depiction of working at a fast food place is a whole-ass mood and I felt it lol. I’m interested to see what role this character Kimi plays! Maybe she has ties to the hospital? Seeing the crew clash with real-world culture is very interesting. I’m enjoying their adventure so far. TO BE CONTINUED…?

#fanfic #looming gaia

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ningdungi · 4 years

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fairy prince!yeonjun

this has been in my draft for so long since CYSM i decided to just post it...lengthy and messy because originally it was just a prompt :D also inspired by she-ra and the princesses of power lol i love that show

pairing: yeonjun x reader (fem)

genre: fantasy, a little angsty

summary: you got captured by yeonjun, the crown prince of the fairy kingdom in the magic forest

choi yeonjun, the crown prince of the fairy kingdom deep in the magic forest

the fairy kingdom has been one of the greatest protectors of the forest for thousands of years, along with other kingdoms in the magic island

the island being covered almost 1/3 by the forest, the fairy kingdom remains one of the biggest and strongest kingdom to ever exist

however, it is also not the friendliest kingdom as it is hidden deep in the forest to protect the ancient magic and stones

the foreign organization exploits the hell out of the island but never get to touch the forest as it is protected by magic and ancient spirit of the ecosystems

the leader of the evil interstellar organization wasn’t so dumb either, they waited for years preparing the best strategy to get what they want: the ancient magic and (said to be) stolen stones to combine with their crazy technology so they can conquer the universe

mistaken for a new kingdom, the evil organization is known for their evil sinister king. When rlly he’s just a capitalist asshole that only cares abt money and power... and his precious daughter—or what the locals call—the evil princess, you

he also has a younger son, prince taehyun, your half-brother, who happens to be a genius and good with technologies. But his father wanted him to be a warrior, not some nerd. So he’s never really fond of him :(

one day you grew tired of being seen as a delicate doll that needs protection, you’re a trained warrior that’s always at least on the top 3 in class. Plus you’re older than taehyun so you need to prove yourself to your father if you want to be force captain and to take the throne one day (yes i’ve been watching a lot of she-ra) but your father just couldn’t risk it

one day, the your kingdom poisoned the forest and unlike any previous failed attempt, this time it finally worked

the day the invasion occurred, you sneaked out of the evil kingdom to join the force that your half-brother co-lead... i mean, you have lots of knowledge about the history and ecosystem of the magic forest, thanks to the help of your best friend, healer elf prince!soobin, whose kingdom had been corrupted by your father (but he still hangs around bc they did no harm to the elf kingdom, just taking over the whole region)

i mean, what could possibly go wrong?

well thee answer is: everything

you got captured IMMEDIATELY by the fairies

even better, you’re captured by the fairy prince!yeonjun himself. you were sneaking in the trees under the moon light, in the dark dark forest. and thats how you ended up being strangled by the prince himself and tied up with vines and thorns

you were in an awe the entire time bc you had no idea that the fairy prince would be this beautiful and ethereal. he just looks so... delicate and magical and soft, despite the fact that he almost choked you to death

you’ve just never seen any creature as beautiful as him, all glowing and sparkling softly under the moonlight

the glimmering luxurious pastel dress that he wore fits him perfectly, and the flower crown on his blonde locks made little butterflies fly upon him. His eyes cold but shines brightly, and everywhere he goes, he leaves trails of fairy dust and sparkles

but to your surprise, he’s kinda mean and short tempered. A frown never leaves his soft peachy lips

one look at you and he goes "... and what could the infamous little princess of the evil kingdom be doing in MY land? doing MEAN and EVIL stuff? hm??”

you’ve heard about the fairies not being the most friendly creature but you thhought they were just vicious, not sarcastic and seems angry all the time

and strangely enough, unlike other fairies, he didn’t have wings. And the flower crown on his blonde hair looked more like horns growing out of his head

he grew impatient from your lack of response but he couldn’t kill you yet, he needed you to get back at the evil kingdom

so he brought you to his kingdom—the kingdom’s prison, to be exact. But it’s just a beautiful chamber filled with wild plants and flowers and glowing fireflies underneath the moonlight, you were kinda confused when he said it’s a prison since the concept of prison that you grew up with is practically just a cold dark chamber of torture

“THIS is your PRISON? you sure you’re not taking me on a fairy date just now? to meet your pretty little fairy friends?” you said with a smug on your face, knowing that he wouldnt dare to intentionally hurt you, as he is a creature of natural protector despite his short temper

so you use this opportunity to annoy the hell out of him

“pretty flower crowns you got there” “btw where are your wings? aren’t all fairies supposed to have sparkly translucent wings?” “honestly i thought prisons are supposed to be a little more dark and intimidating you know, not like this pretty fairy garden”

you’d give him headache and the urge to use some forbidden magic curse on you but he didn’t because your corpse wouldn’t do any good

“these are HORNS! and not every fairy have the same physical features, stop stereotyping us! it’s disrespectful” he snapped

you were just complimenting him why is he always so cranky

i mean his horns look so beautiful they could easily be mistaken as a crown...

after gathering some information, you broke out of the prison with the help of the dying forest and weakening magic force

but you didn’t want to return just yet. you needed to gather more information as the forest started to heal

also you’re kinda lost your way back home lol

your father was FURIOUS, he blamed everyone for your abduction. even your little brother got enough beating for that

as days gone by, you feel like you’re getting closer to the secrets of the island, and also the fairy prince

and every encounter with him it’s just consist of a lot of bickering and sword fighting and being angry at each other

one time your faces were far too close to each other it made you let your guards down, but you snapped out of it quickly and proceed to strangle him

for some reason he never try to actually kill you and you never seem to get the right chance to kill him. it’s weird coming from you bc that’s literally what’s you’re trained for, to kill the prince. you still gotta prove yourself, remember?

but you’re getting used to each other’s presence so much that it became amusing for him

“wow (y/n) this is actually a fun date idea. I’m giving it a 4/10. could’ve been a solid 10 if you didn’t try to stab me in the ribs tho :/“ he said in the middle of a sword fight

one day you’re battling in some strange part in the forest, you were spying on him but got caught

but little did you know, it was one of the forest’s sacred sites. It’s filled with the strongest magic and ancient technology and guarded by forces you don’t know yet

you got struck by some ancient magic, resulting in some strange event to happen. which led you to be captured by the fairy prince yeonjun himself, again

you were kinda weak from the struck so most of the time he’s the one guarding you in the prison, keeping an eye on you and limiting your suspicious moves

so all you can do in the meantime is to either insult his annoyingly beautiful prison or annoy the prince himself

he always seems pissed and suspicious for no reason so it’s kinda fun to you

“are you in pain or something? did you get struck by some strange magic too? why are you always so mean and angry?? are you hurting somewhere ??"

“excuse YOU? am i supposed NOT TO ?? maybe i wouldn’t be so mean and angry all the time if the evil kingdom DON’T try to exploit the forest ALL THE TIME, every think of that? does that ring a bell? here's a hint: i’m talking about YOU, princess (y/n)” he’d roll his eyes, angrily walking in circles. kinda mad at his dad for making him guard you

i mean... there should be enough guards in this castle, right?

little did you know, the magic is actually weakening... leaving the royal bloods’ magic the only force that can protect the forest, for now

“for the hundreth time, i am NOT a princess! i’m a fucking warrior, so stop calling me that!” sometimes you get pissed for his sarcastic remarks and his attitudes in general too. also this time you’re not really feeling well after the struck

“whatever you say, my princess” he’d blow flower petals on your face before giving you a smirk, dancing away gracefully as he picks flowers and tuck them into his flower crown... dozens of flowers immediately grows back for every single flower he picks from the ground, what a sight

you’d blush and try to look away. he never used his magic and charms for this type of things, usually it’s just for some silly pranks or weak attempts temporary torture in the battlefield (bc using magic drains his energy quickly)... so why now? was he really using magic or was is it just you?

after so many encounters and chances of being alone together, you sure know how to get on each other’s nerves... and each other’s head

you were there for a couple days, it’s kinda weird that you didn’t try to escape

turned out you were kinda sick, the strange magic struck weakened your senses and abilities. but you didnt want to admit it nor let him know that you’re literally vulnerable right now

you were smart enough to use this opportunity to get close to him, telling lies about how pitiful your life’s been as a princess and how you just want to prove yourself to your father, you don’t even care about conquering the universe

he didn’t buy that at first, not until you told him about how the evil kingdom sees the forest. you’d say your father thinks the fairies are the bad guys bc they stole the stones from the ancestors of your father’s planet thousands of years ago and that they’re just trying to get it back to heal their dying planet

you didn’t lie at that part, it was true... at least for the invaders. that’s how he kinda get surprised he had to tell the fairies’ version of the story

turned out that it’s all just a misunderstanding between the two parties, but unlike yeonjun being the democratic soon-to-be leader that he is, you still want approval

which you can only get by killing the fairy crown prince yeonjun before his coronation

but jokes on you, you kinda have feelings for him too. you didnt even try to kill him when he fell asleep holding you in his arms... you’d always say to yourself that ‘it wasn’t the right time’ to kill him just yet

of course it wasn’t. there never was, and never will be. you love him, dumbass. even the moon shining upon you the two of you could easily tell

he’d start to tell you secrets... secrets of the forest, his ancestors and families, the kingdom, the magic island, everything

you knew the forest is dying, but what you didn’t know is that he never wanted to be king,, he doesn’t feel like he’s qualified to be one. hell, he doesn’t even have wings, and he’s got horns growing out of his head. no fairy king or queen written in history of the magic island to not have wings, ever

“but it’s not required, right? literally nobody said you’ve got to be born with wings in order to be a fairy king. it’s already in your blood, yeonjun.” you would reassure him as you lift his chin so you can clearly see his eyes... all shaky and scared

he’d kiss you and you swore you almost forgot about your personal mission of luring and getting him into your trap

he told you about when he was just a fairy child... other young fairies and forest creatures bullied him for having horns and no wings,, i mean... he’s a fairy after all. it’s actually really natural, it’s just unusual among the immature creatures

one day he ran away way too far out of the forest... to the giant thorned vine bushes that looked like a cavern... it was dark and scary, he’s never seen this part of the island before

he didn’t know that it’s an entrance to the darker side of the island, where your father landed the ship and invaded a whole region of natural resources and innocent creatures, including the elf kingdom

and then he met a little girl, holding a basket full of flowers and wild berries, with a messy flower crown made of wild flowers on her head. she approached him and asked him softly if he’s lost and why is he crying

he was scared at first because she’s dressed like human, but after a while he learned that she’s harmless. he told her he’s scared that one day he’s gonna turn into a monster bc of his growing horns

“horns? i thought these were a crown... a very peculiar one, i must admit. but didn’t you say you’re a prince? a prince is supposed to wear a crown, right?” the little girl said brightly

“here, let me tuck these flowers in between your hairs and horns... now it’s a flower crown! it’s always been a crown, but now you have flowers!” she would jump around happily, which made the little prince smiled a little too

the story kinda shocked you... could it be that...?

no, snap out of it! it’s not even important nor relevant to your current circumstances

but you never thought that the crown that he proudly wore all the time has been... a growing pain for him

speaking of pain, the part of your back that’s got struck by the strange magic the other day keeps hurting you, and that night it started to get worse, two vertical scars started to form, followed by black liquid running down from each one

“you’re hurt! why didn’t you tell me?” he snapped, his voice filled with worries and anger. maybe it’s because of the fact that black blood could only mean one thing... dark magic

he took care of you and looked after you all the time

and yet you’d still tell him lies... and giving him false hopes

“let’s run away, together... to somewhere far, somewhere safe, we can build our own forever...”

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stellar-imagines · 5 years

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HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝affectionate.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto, Shinsou Hitoshi, Dabi ]

「Headcanons for Bakugou, Todoroki, Shinsou and Dabi with their crush who is very touchy with everyone else, but avoids being physically affectionate towards them in fear that they might be uncomfortable with their touch.」

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

♤ Bakugou is one grumpy and confused man. He’d be seated on his seat, watching you hug the girls, exchanged high fives the guys and even giving them a friendly hug. His eyebrow twitched when he saw you ruffling Midoriya’s hair and poking at Todoroki’s cheeks. He wasn’t jealous, not at all. Everyone knew that you were his girlfriend and that you were off limits, even Mineta did not dare to stare at you for more than a minute. You get along so well with everyone to the point where you wouldn’t be embarrassed to let the boys latch onto you. The last straw was probably when he saw you giving Midoriya a big hug. Okay he’s very jealous! Don’t blame him!

♤ When its the two of you alone, Bakugou notices that you don’t really hug him and or anything affectionate like you normally do with your friends. And because of that, he feels like he had done something wrong. Were you that uncomfortable with him? If you were, you wouldn’t agree to be his girlfriend in the first place. So, Bakugou makes the first move. He intertwines your hands together and move closer to you when you’re both seated together. This method proved to be helpful because you returned the gesture. When he held your hand, you’d squeeze it back gently which makes him happy.

♤ Like he wanted to be the one you’re hugging, damn it! He wanted to be in Midoriya’s shoes when you petted his head. Bakugou wants you to pet his head too! And he wanted you to sit between his legs, rest your head against his chest and sleep peacefully. Just so that he can take his time admiring your peaceful and serene face while he brushes a hair out of your face while he holds you close. Of course he wouldn’t say all those things out loud, he had an image to protect.

♤ Certainly wouldn’t beat around the bush and will straight up ask you why you’re so affectionate with others but not with him. Bakugou would then proceed to grumble something about him being your boyfriend and that you should show him more appreciation and affection. You would find this cute and call him out in it but he’s having none of it, demanding an answer from you. He doesn’t care if you tease him for being needy and jealous. All he wants is answers.

♤ When you admitted that you avoid being physically affectionate with him because you’re afraid that he might be uncomfortable, he’d be confused as fuck. Not only confused, he’d be a bit grumpy with that non-threatening scowl on his face. Bakugou will call you dumb and mumble that he doesn’t mind you being all touchy-feely with him. After all, he is your boyfriend. He will act like he’s annoyed when you cling into him and constantly ask for cuddles and kisses but he will do it in a heartbeat because he’s a softie for you. Bakugou likes it when you’re needy and assertive, it makes his heart swell, knowing that you love him so much.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

☆ Baby boy craves attention because his touched starved. Todoroki pays close attention to you, seeing that you're quite comfortable with showing affection. You're always giving everyone hugs, clinging onto the girls like a kid. When he sees you being physically affectionate towards your friends, Todoroki kind of expects to be treated the same way. He's happy to see that you're so close with your friends to the point where you have no problem being physically close to them. However, when you're not that affectionate with him, he was a bit disappointed. It led to him asking himself if he did something wrong.

☆ Todoroki is well aware that he's not the most affectionate guy and that he's not good at showing how he feels so he struggles with showing his emotions when he's in a relationship with you. Honestly, he expects you to take initiative. You actually did but it seem like you're taking it very slowly, much slower than he had expected. You were comfortable with holding hands with him and sitting side by side with no distance between the two of you.

☆ But after a while, he came to notice a lot of things about you. When you're with your friends, you'd have no problem with the boys giving you hugs and all that but when it was the two of you alone, you were quite hesitant. He hates to admit that he's kind of jealous that you're giving other people special attention. You'd give Midoriya a hug after he helped you with something. Even Bakugou, you'd playfully ruffle his head just to get him annoyed. The finishing blow was the fact that you're fine with Bakugou.

☆ He starts to wonder why and didn't come to an answer because he never asked you straight up what your problem was. Todoroki kind of waits for you to tell him because he doesn't want to pressure you. But after a while, the situation didn't get any better and you seem to be focused on not being too affectionate towards him. He was starting to get restless. This resulted in Todoroki, surprisingly, making the first move instead of dawdling around. He would start with getting you to sit close to him and put an arm around your shoulder when you’re sitting side by side. In a more private setting, he’d get you to sit in front of him and he would just pull you backwards as he slinked his arms around your waist. It surprises you but you weren’t complaining when he has his face buried into the crook of your neck.

☆ When he finally gathers enough confidence, he will certainly ask you if you’re uncomfortable with him or if he’s putting you in the spot. And he will say this with his usual stoic face that made you laugh a bit. You would feel a bit embarrassed to admit to him that you’re afraid of coming off as someone clingy and that you might make him feel disturbed. Todoroki would be relieved that you didn’t hate him and just straight up hug you, assuring you that he was fine with you being physically affectionate with him. And you better prepare for the best cuddle session if your life because you need to fill up his affection bar!

SHINSOU HITOSHI

♡ Shinsou is a people reader, everyone knows that. It’s something he’s done all his life. He had his eyes on you the entire time. And when he caught feelings for you, he started to pay attention to the little details. Even though you both started dating, this habit of his died hard and finds himself staring at you from time to time. So, Shinsou is obviously knows how physically affectionate you were with almost everyone. It was almost as if it was your second language. Ecstatic by news someone delivered to you, you’d envelop that person with a hug. Before he got together with you, he had thought about being the person you hugged, countless of times.

♡ Boy is a bit sad that you’re completely different when you’re alone with him. Of course, it wasn’t as if your relationship is like really bad to the point where its something that needed fixing. But there’s a visible lack of affection between the two of you. In the beginning, Shinsou was hesitant because he was not used to having someone actually like him enough to want to be in a relationship with him. He tries, really hard. You take things slowly. He loves hand holding and it was step one in every romantic relationship. After a while, Shinsou got much bolder with showing his affections. And you know this boy is kind of a tease. But he knows his boundaries and limits, he doesn’t go overboard with affection. However, you were a bit passive, much to his surprise and dismay.

♡ Poor Shinsou thinks that you’re not that comfortable with being so close to him. So he will stop being so affectionate towards you. When he notices that you’re a bit hesitant when showing your affection, he will stop you right there. The last thing he wants was to make you do something you’re not comfortable with. He’s quite the straightforward person. So he will outright tell you that you don’t have to force yourself. At that moment, you’d reveal that you have been holding back in fear that he might be uncomfortable with you being so touchy.

♡ He just sighs and picked you up, giving you a lazy grin. Shinsou would never feel uncomfortable with the person he loved the most! He will be whispering sweet nothings into your ears, saying that he would be the happiest man on earth if you would give him kisses and cuddles everyday. If you’re still reluctant, he will take the reigns and you know he’s more than happy to take initiative. Hugs you from behind as a greeting and pulls you onto his lap for cuddles. Eventually, you’d start to jump into his arms after a long day, relishing the way he pats your head.

♡ The guy teases you a bit too much to your liking. He will call you needy when you're being so affectionate towards him. After a long day, you would want to cuddle with him on the couch, your body resting atop of his with his arms around your frame and keeping you close. Then he will play with your hair, comparing you to a cat clinging onto its owner. But of course, he's not complaining.

DABI

♧ As a villain, he doesn't have that much bonds with people so the thought of receiving affection is completely foreign concept to him. When he first saw you, he instantly thought about how awkward it would be to be in the position of your friends that you're constantly bothering with your hugs. As a civilian, you lived a normal life with friends and family so it wasn't as if you were deprived of affection and attention. Even though he was foreign with showing affection, he has no problems with flirting at all. Once you manage to catch his interest, he doesn't hold back with all the flirting. Dabi does what he wants, if he want someone, he will be aggressive on his advances.

♧ He's not the type to commit himself to someone and certainly doesn't look like the type to do relationships at all. However once he starts one with you, he will give it his all. Dabi may be really bad at showing affections at first but it doesn't take long for him to warm up to the thought of it. He was surprised that you're not as affectionate as he thought you were. Perhaps he may have thought that you were different than what he believed you were. This led to Dabi thinking that you're not that comfortable with intimate things with him.

♧ But it was actually hard to believe that, especially when you're okay with showing affection towards other people. He kind of thought about a few theories himself. First being that you might not be used to being in a relationship with someone. Second being that you're afraid of him somehow. Dabi doesn't force things on you at all. Despite how he looks, he values consent. However, he's quite the possessive guy so expect him to have his arm around your shoulder or waist. He likes to hold you and when you don't move away from his hold, it reassures him that you don't mind him being so close with you.

♧ He's not that bad with initiating though but he actually prefers not to. Whenever he does it, it's probably subconsciously like an arm around your shoulders or one around the waist. Dabi might not notice it until you point it out to him. He might not show it but he kind of likes it when you're all over him. He doesn't complain that much about your behavior.

♧ Although he's quite happy that you're being more physically affectionate, it still takes him a while to get used to them, including all the "I love you"s you tell him once in a while. He’s a sucker for cuddles and he struggles to tell you that because it will ruin his tough guy image. So give him all the hugs and cuddles. One of the things he likes is kissing you, be it a kiss in your lips, jaw, neck, nose, forehead or hand. He also loves receiving in return. He doesn't like asking and he tends to just go for it, so don't be surprised when he suddenly hugs you.

Total: 2136 words Published: 22.03.2020

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ First time writing for Dabi so we hope he’s not too out of character. Took us a while but we hope you liked it! Sorry to make you wait, anon. ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting! Hope you liked it! Sorry to make you wait. ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“…The Roman Republic spent its first two and a half centuries (or so) expanding fitfully through peninsular Italy (that is, Italy south of the Po River Valley, not including Sicily). This isn’t the place for a full discussion of the slow process of expanding Roman control (which wouldn’t be entirely completed until 272 with the surrender of Tarentum). The consensus position on the process is that it was one in which Rome exploited local rivalries to champion one side or the other making an ally of the one by intervening and the other by defeating and subjecting them…

…The simple (and perhaps now increasingly dated) way I explain this to my students is that Rome follows the Goku Model of Imperialism: I beat you, therefore we are now friends. Defeated communities in Italy (the system is different outside of Italy) are made to join Rome’s alliance network as socii (‘allies’), do not have tribute imposed on them, but must supply their soldiers to fight with Rome when Rome is at war, which is always.

It actually doesn’t matter for us how this expansion was accomplished; rather we’re interested in the sort of order the Romans set up when they did expand. The basic blueprint for how Rome interacted with the Italians may have emerged as early as 493 with the Foedus Cassianum, a peace treaty which ended a war between Rome and Latin League (an alliance of ethnically Latin cities in Latium). To simplify quite a lot, the Roman ‘deal’ with the communities of Italy which one by one came under Roman power went as follows:

All subject communities in Italy became socii (‘allies’). This was true if Rome actually intervened to help you as your ally, or if Rome intervened against you and conquered your community.

The socii retained substantial internal autonomy (they kept their own laws, religions, language and customs), but could have no foreign policy except their alliance with Rome.

Whenever Rome went to war, the socii were required to send soldiers to assist Rome’s armies; the number of socii in Rome’s armies ranged from around half to perhaps as much as two thirds at some points (though the socii outnumbered the Romans in Italy about 3-to-1 in 225, so the Romans made more strenuous manpower demands on themselves than their allies).

Rome didn’t impose tribute on the socii, though the socii bore the cost of raising and paying their detachments of troops in war (except for food, which the Romans paid for, Plb. 6.39.14).

Rome goes to war every year.

No, seriously. Every. Year. From 509 to 31BC, the only exception was 241-235. That’s it. Six years of peace in 478 years of republic. The socii do not seem to have minded very much; they seem to have generally been as bellicose as the Romans and anyway…

The spoils of Roman victory were split between Rome and the socii. Consequently, as one scholar memorably put it, the Roman alliance was akin to, “a criminal operation which compensates its victims by enrolling them in the gang and inviting them to share to proceeds of future robberies” (T. Cornell, The Beginnings of Rome (1995)). The alliance system included a ladder of potential relationships with Rome which the Romans might offer to loyal allies.

Now this isn’t a place for a long discussion of the Roman alliance system in Italy (that place is in the book I am writing), so I want us to focus more narrowly on the bolded points here and how they add up to significant changes in who counted as ‘Roman’ over time. But I should note here that while I am calling this a Roman ‘alliance system’ (because the Romans call these fellows socii, allies) this was by no means an equal arrangement: Rome declared the wars, commanded the armies and set the quotas for military service. The ‘allies’ were thus allies in name only, but in practice subjects; nevertheless the Roman insistence on calling them allies and retaining the polite fiction that they were junior partners rather than subject communities, by doing things like sharing the loot and glory of victory, was a major contributor to Roman success (as we’ll see).

First, the Roman alliance system was split into what were essentially tiers of status. At the top were Roman citizens optimo iure (‘full rights,’ literally ‘with the best right’) often referred to on a community basis as civitas cum suffragio (‘citizenship with the vote’). These were folks with the full benefits of Roman citizenship and the innermost core of the Roman polity, who could vote and (in theory, though for people of modest means, only in theory) run for office.

Next were citizens non optimo iure, often referred to as having civitas sine suffragio (citizenship without the vote); they had all of the rights of Roman citizens except for political participation in Rome. This was almost always because they lived in communities well outside the city of Rome with their own local government (where they could vote); we’ll talk about how you get those communities in a second. That said, citizens without the vote still had the right to hold property in Roman territory and conduct business with the full protection of a Roman citizen (ius commercii) and the right to contract legal marriages with Roman citizens (ius conubii discussed above). They could do everything except for vote or run for offices in Rome itself.

Next down on the list were socii (allies) of Latin status (note this is a legal status and is entirely disconnected from Latin ethnicity; by the end of this post, Rome is going to be block-granting Latin status to Gauls in Cisalpine Gaul, for instance). Allies of Latin status got the benefits of the ius commercii, as well as the ability to move from one community with Latin status to another without losing their status. Unlike the citizens without the vote, they didn’t automatically get the right to contract legal marriages with Roman citizens, but in some cases the Romans granted that right to either individuals or entire communities (scholars differ on exactly how frequently those with Latin status would have conubium with Roman citizens; the traditional view is that this was a standard perk of Latin status, but see Roselaar, op. cit.). That said, the advantages of this status were considerable – particularly the ability to conduct business under Roman law rather than what the Romans called the ‘ius gentium‘ (‘law of peoples’) which governed relations with foreigners (peregrini in Roman legal terms) and were less favorable (although free foreigners in Rome had somewhat better protections, on the whole, than free foreigners – like metics – in a Greek polis).

Finally, you had the socii who lacked these bells and whistles. That said, because their communities were allies of Rome in Italy (this system is not exported overseas), they were immune to tribute, Roman magistrates couldn’t make war on them and Roman armies would protect them in war – so they were still better off than a community that was purely of peregrini (or a community within one of Rome’s provinces; Italy was not a province, to be clear).

The key to this system is that socii who stayed loyal to Rome and dutifully supplied troops could be ‘upgraded’ for their service, though in at least some cases, we know that socii opted not to accept Roman citizenship but instead chose to keep their status as their own community (the famous example of this were the allied soldiers of Praenesti, who refused Roman citizenship in 211, Liv. 23.20.2). Consequently, whole communities might inch closer to becoming Romans as a consequence of long service as Rome’s ‘allies’ (most of whom, we must stress, were at one point or another, Rome’s Italian enemies who had been defeated and incorporated into Rome’s Italian alliance system).

But I mentioned spoils and everyone loves loot. When Rome beat you, in the moment after you lost, but before the Goku Model of Imperialism kicked in and you became friends, the Romans took your stuff. This might mean they very literally sacked your town and carried off objects of value, but it also – and for us more importantly – meant that the Romans seized land. That land would be added to the ager Romanus (the body of land in Italy held by Rome directly rather than belonging to one of Rome’s allies). But of course that land might be very far away from Rome which posed a problem – Rome was, after all, effectively a city-state; the whole point of having the socii-system is that Rome lacked both the means and the desire to directly govern far away communities. But the Romans didn’t want this land to stay vacant – they need the land to be full of farmers liable for conscription into Rome’s armies (there was a minimum property requirement for military service because you needed to be able to buy your own weapons so they had to be freeholding farmers, not enslaved workers). By the by, you can actually understand most of Rome’s decisions inside Italy if you just assume that the main objective of Roman aristocrats is to get bigger armies so they can win bigger battles and so burnish their political credentials back in Rome – that, and not general altruism (of which the Romans had fairly little), was the reason for Rome’s relatively generous alliance system.

The solution was for Rome to essentially plant little Mini-Me versions of itself on that newly taken land. This had some major advantages: first, it put farmers on that land who would be liable for conscription (typically placing them in carefully measured farming plots through a process known as centuriation), either as socii or as Roman citizens (typically without the vote). Second, it planted a loyal community in recently conquered territory which could act as a position of Roman control; notably, no Latin colony of this sort rebelled against Rome during the Second Punic War when Hannibal tried to get as many of the socii to cast off the Romans as he could.

What is important for what we are doing here is to note that the socii seem to have been permitted to contribute to the initial groups settling in these colonies and that these colonies were much more tightly tied to Rome, often having conubium – that right of intermarriage again – with Roman citizens. The consequence of this is that, by the late third century (when Rome is going to fight Carthage) the ager Romanus – the territory of Rome itself – comprises a big chunk of central Italy (as seen in the map below) but the people who lived there as Roman citizens (with and without the vote) were not simply descendants of that initial Roman citizen body, but also a mix of people descended from communities of socii throughout Italy.”

- Bret Devereaux, “Citizens and Allies.”

#who were the romans #roman #ancient #bret devereaux #history

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jeogiyall · 4 years

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𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞; 𝒍.𝒕𝒚

❥ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟾.𝟻𝚔

❥ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖿! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝗀

❥ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐! 𝖺𝗎, 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺.

❥ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 + 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗎𝖾𝗌; 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽.

❥ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ: 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌-𝗍𝗈-𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍; 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖾𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇, 𝖮𝖢 𝖠𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒/𝗇

❥ᴀ/ɴ: 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍!! 𝗂'𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀! 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗂 𝖽𝗈. -𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

‘The Great International Bake Off’ was not something you were expecting anything to come from. Being a pastry chef in France, you were used to having doors slammed in your face. Everything, even things meant for beginners, were handed off to the people with a name and a home full of trophies. Even getting through to the final round of auditions, you were just hoping that the callback would be enough to get you a better job (it wasn’t).

You had actually expected so little from it that you had actually forgotten the result date. You went into work normally, made simple chocolate cookies, spent your lunch break whipping up a complicated cake. It was a normal day, until your coworker (and team mate,) Amelie burst through the kitchen doors. Her smile was gigantic as she pulled you into a bone crushing hug, your cake falling to the floor in a mess of raspberry puree.

“What in the world?” You had whined, frowning at the mess of chocolate and fruit on the floor.

“We did it!” Your eyebrows had furrowed as you moved to grab a towel. Amelie grabbed you by the shoulders, her dark brown eyes wild. Slowly, realization of the date crept into your head.

“Oh, a-are we-” She jumped up and down, squeals piercing the room.

“We’re on the show!”

Needless to say, you were getting a better job.

On the first day of filming you wore high waist jeans with a black turtleneck sweater. The blue haired boy on the Korean team had giggled when he met you while all of the contestants waited to enter the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” He began through his laugh. There’s an accent in his English that causes the words to slur together almost sweetly, “you just look very French. Like how people imagine French girls to look.” You laughed along with him, glancing down at your outfit.

“You’re right, I do.” His laugh is soft and squeaky. You notice his cheeks turning pink, “It’s the turtleneck, I think.” He nods in agreement with you before the large metal doors to the studio swing open.

You’re concentrated while cooking, like always, but you can’t help that you hear slurred English and a squeaky laugh permeating the room.

“So I saw you talking to Lee Taeyong before we went in today.” Amelie pokes as you lounge on the bed of your shared hotel room. She’s in the bathroom, washing the day off her hands.

“Is that the Korean boy?”

“Oui.” She sings, shutting of the faucet. You stare at the magazine page in front of you, eyes glazing over a bite size dome cake covered in edible flowers.

“Yea, he’s sweet. Charming.” She laughs as she enters your bedroom, tossing a different magazine onto your bed. You can’t read the text since it’s entirely in Korean, but you see Taeyong on the front; He’s smiling with an arm wrapped around a glass mixing bowl. His hair was pink in this photo, “What does it say?” Amilie shrugs, flipping a dark strand of hair over her shoulder.

“Son of five star chef to represent Korea in international bake off.” You pull your eyes from the picture to smirk at your friend.

“When did you learn to read Korean?” She swiftly flips her middle finger up at you, sticking out her tongue childishly.

“I ran it through a translator app.” She answers, snatching the magazine up from it’s place in front of you, “It’s weird though, right? He’s like basically a celebrity.”

“I don’t know, it’s kind of cool. If we beat them we’ll get major bragging rights.” She laughs, thumbing through the foreign glossy pages.

“True that, Korea will definitely be our biggest competition.” Your eyes glaze over as she rambles on, the feeling his sweet laugh had left in your chest dying.

You become a different person when fueled by competition, it’s what made you top of your class in culinary school. You knew you couldn’t win if you were also trying to keep up someones opinion of you, or fantasizing about blue hair and kind eyes. Best to nip it in the bud before anything happened.

“Yea,” you creek out while nodding, “beating them would be tough.” A small smile cracks onto her lips.

“We can do it.” A lump takes form in your throat. Amelie doesn’t notice “I’m getting dinner with Antonio and Maria, from team Mexico? Are you coming along?” You nod, pushing yourself up from the bed.

All night long your minds drifts helplessly to the smiling pink haired boy from the magazine cover.

You’re melting chocolate over a stove top in an industrial hotel kitchen at three in the morning when you settle on the fact that it’s difficult to not pay attention to Taeyong. It’s not as if he’s needy for the attention like his teammate, Donghyuck, but he gets it anyways. When it’s not for his ridiculous, angel like, appearance, it’s for the sheer beauty and sophistication of his desserts. He utilizes both his own culture, modern techniques, and a certain rustic quality while still keeping a certain refinement about whatever goes on the plate. You don’t want to say that you’re jealous of him, you’re rarely jealous of anyone about anything, but watching him present his desserts every other day makes your chest swell with something ugly. He captures everything in a dessert, leaving everyone wishing for a taste.

It would be nice to say that you are indifferent towards him, but that’s clearly not true. You’ve always had somewhat of a competitive streak. On your first day of culinary school your teacher announced that the class would be making pastry dough the next day; “If you can’t make this... Why are you here?” He had stated gravely, staring you dead in the eyes. You were the only girl in the entire class.That night you spent hours making the dough, three batches of it. You made it until it was perfect, reveling in the sight of your teacher eating his words the next day. You loved to win, and you hated anyone that tried to keep it from you.

A part of you finds it sad that you can’t bring yourself to like him anymore, he’s so sweet. One day in the kitchen you notice his sky blue hair falling into his face in delicate curls, then proceed to kick yourself while beating the devil out of a bowl of egg whites. In every place where you are competitive, Taeyong is docile. You often wonder if he even notices that dish of the day is always between your teams. He always cheers whenever Team France is announced as the winner for the episode, it makes you feel like an ass.

You throw in the last bit of your chocolate and fruit zest, trying not to notice the way your hand trembles. As it melts into rest of the liquid the large steel door of the kitchen creeps open. You don’t pay much attention to it, the staff is far too familiar with finding you here by now.

“Oh,” That voice is definitely not a hotel cook. It’s low and warm, the vowel long and messy, “Y/N! I’m sorry, I didn’t think-”

“It’s fine.” You interrupt quickly, turning around to see pastel blue hair and dewy skin, “I’m almost done, then you can have the kitchen all to yourself.” Taeyong is standing in front of you in plaid patterned pajama pants and tight black t-shirt with Korean writing across the front. When you return to your chocolate you can feel his deep brown eyes drilling a whole into your skull, He might actually be more tense now than he is in competition.

“What are you making?” He’s peeking over your shoulder, watching intently as you measure out heavy cream.

“A dark chocolate ganache and raspberry tart.” You dump half a cup of cream into the bowl, a tuft of Taeyongs bedhead tickling the side of your face.

“I love raspberries, I haven’t used them much here.” You hum an answer, focusing on the bowl in front of you. A thick silence settles in the room, allowing you to work quietly how you always like. Taeyong can’t seem to leave well enough alone, “Congratulations by the way, about your dish today.”

The fact that he said that surprises you, so the “Thank you” muttered in response comes out as a question. He cocks his head at you from over the mixing bowl he’s begun working at.

“What? Did I say something incorrectly? I meant-”

“No! I understood you.” You wipe your hands on your apron, shoulders tensing, “It’s just... Well, I didn’t win. Why are you congratulating me, shouldn’t I say that to you?” His eyes soften. You want to throw something.

“Because you plated a beautiful dessert, one that you worked really hard on. I noticed, we... We all noticed. It’s not about winning.” You scoff, heat rising to your face.

“Of course it’s about winning! It’s always about winning.” His eyes grow even softer. It reminds you of the way your culinary teacher had looked at you; patronizing.

“That’s terribly sad.” You swiftly pull your hair into a ponytail, suddenly recalling the night you told your father that you were going to be a pastry chef, that instead of going to a traditional university you were going to culinary school. You remember the voice that used to sing you to sleep telling you he was disappointed. You remember how terrible every Christmas has been since then.

“It’s how it has to be.” You pick up your whisk and continue with the chocolate sludge.

“It doesn’t have to be-” Something inside of you snaps. In a whirlwind you turn around, whisk still in hand. The chocolate mixture flies across the kitchen, a dollop landing in Taeyongs sky blue hair.

“Some of us don’t have daddy’s five star restaurant to fall back on if they lose. Some of us have nothing to fall back on if we lose. Nothing. So don’t stand there and act like it’s not about winning, because while that may be true for you it’s not true for me.” Hot tears are welling in your eyes. You decide right then that your worst trait is the fact that you cry while angry.

“Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Yea, no. It’s whatever.” Your face is burning as you turn back to the mixing bowl. You want to leave, “You know what, the ganache split so I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.”

“Y/N wait-” You dump the half finished ganache down the sink, tears now pouring freely down your cheeks. Your throat is so tight that it’s a miracle you haven’t choked yet.

“Goodnight Taeyong, I’ll see you in two days.” You take long strides to the exit, stopping as your hand comes to rest on the door handle, “By the way, congratulations.”

“Y/N,

I suppose I should start with an apology. It was never my intention to offend you, but that’s the thing about offending people. You never mean to do it.

So; I am sorry. Sorry for forgetting how privileged I am in this sense, sorry for interrupting your midnight baking, inexplicably sorry for making you cry. And for your lovely ganache getting caught in the crossfire. You were just trying to have an escape and I came in and rained all over your parade. I feel like an absolute poop.

I think you are a ridiculously skilled cook. I genuinely envy how you breathe life into traditional, stuffy desserts. Last night was the first time I drooled over a plain chocolate ganache in ages, where did you get the idea to put orange zest in it? Absolute genius, I’m honestly rooting for you.

That being said, I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I will respect your decision, but I do hope you want to speak again. I’ve always wanted to work with French cook.

Either way, I hope you will accept these tokens of my apology. I doubt mine are as good as yours would’ve been, but I do hope you enjoy these raspberry and white chocolate tarts. (There’s a bit of matcha in the ganache; I drew inspiration from the finest.)

Truly, apologetically, sincerely, Taeyong.”

You manage to avoid the kitchen again for a week. It’s a week filled with ignoring sad smiles from Taeyong. He thinks you don’t notice the big starry eyes that are constantly staring holes in your skin, but it’s impossible not to notice. The gaze isn’t even necessarily sad, or apologetic, just... Longing. It makes you want to die; the thought of facing him makes you want to die. Which is why solitary midnight cooking was out of the question, no matter how erratically your heart thumps after winning dish of the day, or how long you stare at the stark ceiling of your hotel bedroom. The thought of even going back to the kitchen and possibly running into the sweet boy is so daunting that it makes you feel sick.

You’re determined not to give in, until you find yourself hurriedly pulling on pajama pants and socks while laying in bed after a particularly long day. Glancing at the alarm clock, you think to yourself that he’s probably not even there. He’s probably tired after such a long day of filming. You’ll be fine.

You were wrong. Taeyong is already in the kitchen; head bent over a saucepan simmering on the stove. The entire kitchen smells painstakingly of key lime pie.

He doesn’t even notice that you’re there until you get two bowls from the island and begin separating eggs. When he looks up he turns red, offers a meek smile, then returns to the stove top.

In the next hour you find yourself watching the way he cooks, admiring how his shoulders release tension every time he scrapes the edges of his pan. His hands skate across everything he touches, his breaths come out in long bursts. You almost think of writing a book based on his mannerisms.

Neither of you say anything until he turns to the counter top where you’re working, pouring a translucent mixture (presumably lime curd) through a sieve and into a bowl. You turn to the counter behind you, clicking a mixing bowl into the kitchen aid and turning on. As it whips your eggs and vanilla a deep sigh wrecks through your chest. Your palms firmly plant into the white counter top, you allow the contact to be grounding.

“It was my mom.” You finally say, bringing one hand up to wipe the tension from your forehead. He let’s out a confused mumble, shuffling from his spot at the island.

“What?” You turn around to face him, being greeted immediately with a furrowed brow and noticeably tired eyes.

“My mom, she’s where I got the idea for orange in the chocolate ganache. It was always her favorite flavor combination. I make it that way when I’m homesick. For her, or for... For childhood, I guess.” He stays silent, elegant hands throwing the lime curd into the refrigerator, “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s just a sensitive subject, I get defensive when someone comes close to knowing how much I actually need. A-and then there’s you. You’re so talented, and hard working, and kind, and you don’t... You don’t fight like I do, but you still succeed. It reminds me of the boys that I went to school with, but you make it so damn hard to be upset with-” “Y/N, it’s okay. I was rude to you, you don’t have to explain yourself. Not to me or anyone.” You shake your head, guilt settling into your gut.

“Yes, I do. Even if you had been a dick, which you really weren’t, it doesn’t give me a right to yell at you. Or call you spoiled, or guilt you-”

“Why do you care so much?” A smile plays at his lips, you notice quickly that they’re not as thin as you previously thought. More puffy than anything, like a dolls.

“Because you work so hard!” The words spill out of you like air, flush rising to your cheeks, “And it’s unfair of me to assume that you do have something to fall back on, and I shouldn’t lose my temper, and... And... And I’d really like to be your friend?” The smile on his face intensifies, yet his eyes become even softer. You try not to let them tear you apart.

“Oh... Um, then you’re forgiven. You never had to apologize in the first place.” He giggles, hands diligently returning to his work, “Did you enjoy the tarts?” You exhale a laugh, remembering the sweet note that you read over and over while sitting on your bathroom floor.

“I did! Actually, I hid the second one from Amelie. It was too good.” For the rest of the night you treasure how he giggles at all of your bitter quips. You two dance around the kitchen and talk for hours, time slipping into early morning. He tells you about what it’s like to grow up in a restaurant, whining on about never having junk food at home.

(“Wow,” You had laughed while shoving cream into a piping bag, “I’m jealous.” He playfully rolled his eyes, carefully layering lime curd and lemon sponge cake with pistachio honey ice cream.

“It’s nice. Sometimes I just want normal food, though” You had properly laughed, beige coffee cream splattering onto your hand, “I’m serious! I’d come home from school and ask for a snack and my dad would hand me something with eyes!” Your head arched backwards, laughter settling comfortably in the room.

“Aw, I’ll make you an after school snack Yongie.” He had cut his eyes to you, putting on a proper mischievous grin.

“Like what, crepes?” Your cheeks had gone pink, hands frozen as a laugh bubbled in your chest.

“... Yes?” A laugh ripped through him, all squeaky and warm.

“That’s hardly junk food.” He wheezed, words slurred together in sleepiness.

“I’m French, leave me alone.”)

When you finally get to taste a bite of his creation it’s via him spoon feeding it to you while you pipe chocolate buttercream flowers onto an opera cake. It’s wonderful; the citrus flavors making your lips pucker while pistachio and honey danced smoothly across your tongue. You barely even register the moan you let out as you savor every flavor on the spoon.

“Taeyong,” you whine, swallowing the bite of heaven, “You need to make thousands of those. And give me at least ten, it’s amazing.” He flushes red, taking a bite from his own spoon. He smiles around the spoon, another warm laugh starting in the base of his throat.

“It is pretty good, but I’m ready to try yours!” You roll your eyes and smile, carefully placing the plate in front of him.

“Bon appétit!”

“Taeyong,

The way that you so effortlessly execute flavors that have made me cry in my kitchen at 3am (no, I am not speaking from experience!) infuriates amazes me. I would have literally given a leg to try your desert today, who even thinks to make wasabi mousse? Like, ever? I’d love to live in your head for a day.

This is nowhere near as innovative as anything you’ve made, but it is a classic. You’ve told me you like French classics.

I sincerely hope you enjoy: The Madeline. Don’t ask why they’re shaped like shells, it has to do with pilgrims. I can tell you at our next baking session:)

(Slightly) jealous, Y/N”

“It was a what?” Taeyong questioned, a warm laugh bubbling in his throat.

“An emblem of Saint James.” You were separating edible flowers with a set of tweezers as Taeyong made batter for a green tea cake. Lately you had started working on desserts together, then debating once you were done if you should leave them at the doors of the judges hotel rooms.

(“Oh my gosh, Taeyong please!” You had whined the first time he suggested it, giggling around your mouthful of chocolate.

“I was kidding! A joke! Haha, laugh, funny!” He answered, words spilling out like he was a wine glass someone knocked over. A large smile broke across his panicked face as you rambled on.

“Come on Yong, I could write a dessert ransom note and everything!” He clapped his hands, fork clattering to the counter as he trembled in laughter.)

“Would they just wear like... A shell? A straight up sea shell?” You laugh again, looking to his furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes catch briefly on the small scar on the right side of his face, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It’s weird when you notice something that reminds you that he’s a human, it’s often easy to forget.

“I’m not really sure, maybe?” He tied his apron in a neat bow, nodding along with your answer.

“Well, I loved the cookies so much I’m about ready to go make myself a seashell emblem. I’ll make it a pin and wear it every time I’m in a suit.” His voice is muddled with sleep, low and warm. It reminds you of when you snuck out of your house as a teenager to go to a bonfire on the beach; the way that the fire grumbled on as the waves crashed softly. He has a lovely voice, you think.

“And how often do you wear a suit?” You quip, causing him to poke his tongue out at you.

“Every. Night. When I eat at my fathers restaurant.” He put on a posh British accent, pulling an I take myself way too seriously face while splaying a hand across his chest. You laughed so hard that you damn near snorted.

“Okay, Draco Malfoy!” You manage once you can finally breathe again, “We can make seashell pins when you come visit me in France.” The room settles, something friendly seeping into the kitchen tiles.

“You want me to come visit you in France?” He’s smirking, yet his eyes are inexplicably soft. They’re so shimmery that you almost think he’s going to cry.

“Of course I do! How else am I going to stuff you with sweets?” You want to keep joking, but he’s staring at you in a way that makes your heart hurt. You’re not stupid, you know what this is. Heat is rising to your cheeks, your palms are sweating, the two of you are staring at each other like someone is speaking gibberish. You’re stuck between feeling guilty and never wanting this to stop.

(‘Korea will definitely be our biggest competition.’)

In an instant you sink your eyes to the flowers on the counter, taking to organizing them by color. The air you breathe in feels heavy.

“Well,” He breathes out, wiping his hands on his apron. He hadn’t even touched anything since putting on, “you might just have to come visit me in Korea.” He smiles to you, a smile that could calm storms. You say nothing, allowing the butterflies settled in the pit of your stomach to flap their wings freely.

“Dear Y/N,

I’ll have to ask you to forgive me if this is too forward, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you mentioned France. Is that silly? I haven’t thought much about leaving here, about talking to people when I do leave here. I’ve kept brief contact with Johnny since the American team left, but I wasn’t sure of what you’d want. We don’t really talk outside of cooking together, but I cherish your friendship so much.

I never had many friends while growing up. Even now, I’m only really friends with Donghyuck (and he’s annoying!) You’re the first person that’s let me be silly, let me enjoy my craft, reminded me of my privilege. It feels like everyone is so scared to say anything to me, but the second time I talked to you you scolded me! You're like a force of nature, and not in a ‘gentle breeze’ kind of way.

I was honestly a little bit worried that you would never talk to me again once we left here. Clearly, I’m glad that’s not your intention.

Anyways, I think I’ve rambled on long enough now. I hope you enjoy Hotteok; it’s basically a pancake stuffed with cinnamon, brown sugar, and peanuts.

Sincerely, happily, Taeyong.”

The next time you enter the hotel kitchen past midnight you’re slightly tipsy and finding it nearly impossible to not tackle Taeyong (or anyone, for that matter) into a bear hug. The crew had just finished the third to last day of filming, which meant it was down to the final three teams. Mexico, France, and Korea.

Naturally, Amelie wanted to get smashed. Her and team Mexico were actually still getting smashed in the lobby along with Donghyuck. You had nursed one gigantic glass of wine for the whole duration of your presence, feeling solemn without your sweet friend. When you started blowing bubbles into your glass while slumped in a big leather chair, Donghyuck rolled his eyes while reluctantly leaning over to you.

(“You know he’s waiting for you in the kitchen.” Your had eyes widened, a smile spreading across your face like an infection. Donghyuck had laughed so hard at you that he snorted, slapping your knee while he doubled over in laughter.)

“Hi.” You say now, head spinning. Taeyong grins at you, leaning against the white counter top, “W-why weren’t you downstairs?” He shook his head, blue strands of hair bouncing with the movement.

“I’m not feeling up to it. I was going to make something, but I don’t know what. Like... I think I’m having a mental block.” His knee is bouncing as his knuckles rap against the cutting board. Before you really know what’s happening you’re standing next to Taeyong, shoulders bumping together. He exhales a laugh, looking at you through a set of long eyelashes.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice comes out unbelievably calm considering how much wine you had slurped down. Taeyong digs the heel of his palms into his eyes, groaning then inhaling sharply.

“Just surprised to be here. Final three, I mean. It’s a lot of pressure.” It’s clear that there’s something he’s not telling you, his words falling flat.

“Tell me what’s actually wrong.” He smiles sweetly, it feels like you’ve done this with him thousands of times

“It’s nothing, I’m just having a block. That’s all.” It’s clear that he’s still only telling half of the truth, but you decide to leave him be. Instead you move to the cabinet under the island, pulling out a steel mixing bowl, “What are we making?”

“I am making a family recipe, you are keeping me company.” He laughs, a smile fixing comfortably onto his face. You can almost feel a bubble form around the moment as he pushes himself up to sit on the white counter top.

“I think I can handle that.” He kept his promise. The next two hours were filled with soft, tinkling laughter, and quiet conversation. He keeps his voice as low as whispers, a rasp seeping in through the edges of his words. He asks what you’ll do when he comes to France, it makes your heart skip a beat.

(“Well,” You began, voice shaking, “obviously we have to go to the beach. It’s like eight minutes from my house, and we’ll go to a proper French bakery. Not the one where I work though, that’s gross.” He had chuckled, the same laugh you remember from the first day of filming showing up again.

“Unless you win.” He adds, eyes asking a question, “Then we’ll be at your own bakery, everyday.” Your heart had soared at the idea, hopes stacking themselves far too high. The warmth that rises in your chest at the thought of Taeyong sitting with you in a space that is your own, piecing together a creation through shared anecdotes and pitchy laughter makes you almost drop your whisk. The thought of making something with him in a place where you are just you and he is just him had always felt like an unobtainable fantasy, but you had realized then just how close it was to being reality. In a week you both would be back in your own kitchens, the high stress of this competition replaced with idle everyday life.)

“Here you are!” You announce, placing a baking tray filled with perfect white circles in front of him, “My personal favorite, lemon meringues.” He immediately pries one from the sheet, moaning as the soft shell dissolves in his mouth.

“You outdo yourself every time.” He says, reaching for another one, “I’m going to weigh a thousand pounds when I leave France.” You giggle, grabbing one from the sheet and popping it into your mouth.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” you start after swallowing, “not everyone’s as good as me.” He chuckles lowly, grabbing a third sweet.

“I’m sure.” A comfortable silence settles between you two, Taeyong eating nearly four more before he speaks again, “Y/N?”

“Yes?” His voice had been so soft, you were surprised you even heard him.

“How badly do you need this win.” His disposition shifted to one of quiet determination, steely eyes tracking your own.

“Pretty badly. I’ll be able to get by without it, I still have my job thankfully. It’ll just be a while until I can really do what I want. The bakery we work at is nice, but it’s clearly meant for tourists. Winning this means I could actually make what I like, even the gross stuff that you only order if you’re French.” He smiles as you bite into another petite meringue, “Without it I’ll probably be stuck in a baked goods assembly line for two more years, hopefully by then I’ll have enough to buy my own shop.”

“That’s so messed up.” He sighs, voice tired, “You’re the most talented chef I’ve met; more than that, even. The most hardworking. I hate that this all depends on hopefully. You deserve more than hopefully” He looks genuinely upset, pouting from his perch on the counter. You’ve lived with hopefully for so long that the idea isn’t disappointing anymore.

“I’m sure everyone has their own sob story of why they need it.” He shakes his head, a hand clamping the back of his neck.

“I don’t. If I lose, Donghyuck and I will return home to jobs where we make and design desserts for the best restaurant in Seoul. We need it the least, yet we’re one of the last teams here.” It’s hard to tell where he’s going with this, but it’s clear to you that he feels guilty.

“I mean yea, but don’t you want something for yourself?” He looks you dead in the eyes, gaze making you feel small in an unfamiliar way.

“Not if it means you have to keep doing less than what you love.” The words settle heavy like an accusation.

“W-what are you trying to say? If you’re trying to say what I think you are then-” He rests one of his hands onto your shoulder, teeth worrying his lower lip.

“What if I drop out? I’ll never forgive myself if I keep you from what you’re meant to do while I live comfortably.” You shake your head, bringing a hand to cover his own.

“You’re not keeping me from what’s meant to be! What’s meant to be is, and what’s meant to be is you and me head to head in the finale. You’re not throwing away the chance of a lifetime just to preserve feelings.” You don’t remember when you gripped the front of his shirt, or when the hand that had steadied your shoulder snaked around your waist. His breath was fanning across your cheeks, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Are you sure?” Taeyong is almost two inches taller than you, it had never been evident until now. He borderline towers over you, keeping eye contact through drooping eyelids.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to win because I deserve it, so don’t you dare go easy on me either!” He laughs as you jab a finger into his chest, grabbing your finger with his hand. He slowly laces your fingers together, quickly adverting his eyes to the floor.

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that? I gave you a free shot at winning and you turned it down.” You laugh, ruffling his pale blue hair.

“You’ll understand how it feels to win something and know you’ve earned it.”

“Don’t say that.” His pout returns, reminding you of the dog you got for your sixth christmas.

“You said it earlier!”

“That was different! I said unless!” You giggle at his defensive response, heart soaring as high as the clouds.

“Whatever.” He was swaying slowly, your body moving with his. You weren’t too sure when that had happened. Similarly to how you weren’t sure when your hand had found a home on his shoulder, or when he had started humming a sweet lullaby. You were, however, sure of the way he was looking at you. It was the way your parents looked at each other while drinking wine on the terrace of your childhood home.

As if all the stars were hung in your eyes, and he was endlessly searching for constellations.

“Dear Taeyong,

It’s official, final two! I’d hoped it would end like this, try to remember me in your next life. You know, after I kill it tomorrow;)

Just kidding mostly! I’m excited to see what you make, and for you to spoon feed it to me when you get to France. You have to keep in contact with me once we’re home! Texts and emails will suffice, but I think I’d like to keep up our letters. It’s nice to have a physical thing that shows how much you care, I’ve never had that before. I don’t think many people really have. Since I’ll be home, I can even send you real French junk food and not just crepes!

Sorry for the lack of sweets this time around, as you can imagine I’m just a little busy. I promise I’ll make up for it when you visit me!

After tomorrow, it’ll be so long until we actually see each other again:( How will you survive without me?

I’m gonna miss your dorky self, (Y/N)”

Losing doesn’t hurt as badly as you had anticipated. When Taeyong and Donghyuck had been announced Amelie had turned to you, eyes sad.

(“We came so far.” Her hand rubbed a circle on your tense shoulders, a knot releasing in your throat.

“We did.” You look to her, offering a watery smile, “I’m proud.” She had nodded, swallowing tightly.

“Me too.” Her mood was... Uplifted by now, to say the least. She was curled on a couch in the corner of the after party, sipping on champagne and clinging to Antonio of Mexico’s arm. It turns out you weren’t the only one who had taken a liking to competition.)

The party was stuffed into your hotels ballroom, which had been decorated with black and gold bunting on anything that would sit still. Everyone was embellished in cocktail dresses and suits, drinks flowing freely from the bar into manicured hands. You were currently sipping on an apple martini (read: trying to lick the cinnamon and sugar from the rim of your glass) while team Americas Johnny laughed incredulously at you.

“You know, you’re kind of hilarious when you don’t have that whole ‘get in my way and I’ll bite your head off’ thing going on. Though the dress definitely adds to that. ” You rolled your eyes, swallowing a mouthful of gritty cinnamon and smoothing the silk of your short red dress. You had downed about four decorative drinks, allowing every one to think that you were drinking away your sorrows. It wasn’t quite true, but there’s no harm in letting people assume.

The truth was, you were doing absolutely anything to distract yourself from the fact that you hadn’t seen so much as blue shock of hair all night long. Apparently, you weren’t the only person that wanted to speak to Taeyong at his victory party. It’s not like you were expecting to have the whole night with him, but you were hoping for at least a minute alone. It would be terribly depressing if the last time you saw him for months was while soothing tears from your best friends eyes.

“I know, right?” You take a deep swig of your martini, successfully topping off the fifth drink of the night, “You were all too scared of me to realize my real potential. Nice and hot.” Johnny bites on another laugh, a brown strand of hair sweeping into his eyes.

“I guess so.” He takes a long sip from his drink, swallowing with a sour face, “Taeyong was never scared of you, though.” You exhale a short laugh, lip still toying with the rim of your empty glass.

“Really?” He leans into his black chair, rubbing a hand over his face while exhaling sharply.

“Yea, he just talks about how skilled you are. He never viewed you as competition, just a sweet girl to learn from.” You try to suppress the pink rising to your cheeks, which is not easy considering all the drinks you’ve downed.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all, sounds just like Taeyong.”

“It really does.” He casts you a mischievous glance, lips quirking, “ You know, he would also always talk about how pr-”

The boy is cut off by a low voice shouting something in Korean. Even if it weren’t for the hand snaking around your waist, or the blue hair that tickles your cheek, you would know immediately that it was Taeyong. Hearing him speak small Korean phrases had been one of your favorite parts of midnight baking.

(Had been, had been, had been)

“Johnny! So good to see you not embarrassing me! Mind if I steal (Y/N) for a minute? Nope, okay thank you” In a flurry he grabs you by the wrist, dashing to the exit while towing you behind.

“Taeyong!” You shout, laughs ripping through your chest, “Taeyong! Slow down, where are we going?” He laughs, warm and squeaky as always, refusing to let up.

“Just follow me, come on!” He whips you two around a corner, grip tight and relentless. At this point you’ve taken a form similar to that of a rag doll, Taeyong dragging you along.

“I’m trying!” You snort while dashing through the lobby, wrist almost ripping from Taeyongs hand, “It’s kind of hard to run in heels!”

“OH MY GOD! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize!”

“WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?! It hurts!” Your whining only makes Taeyong laugh harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Come on, we’re almost there.” He drags you straight through the lobby, into the kitchen bustling with caterers, and finally through a tall glass door leading outside.

“The pool?” you question, pulling off the clasp of your thin black heels, “I didn’t think it was open this long.” He’s clambering to a lounge chair, grasping his heaving chest.

“It’s not, that’s why we took the employees entrance.” You nod, rubbing the raging blister forming on your ankle.

“And the running?” He looks up at you from his spot on the chair, eyes glimmering.

“I didn’t want anyone to follow us?” You deadpan, dropping your shoes.

“Oh, you are a dead man!” You lunge at him with the small bit of energy left in you, immediately ghosting your fingers over his ribs. One thing you had learned from Taeyongs countless childhood anecdotes, was that he was ticklish to a (nearly dangerous) fault.

“Stop, stop!” He cries, writhing under your fingers, “I’m sorry! I’ll feed you!” The shrieks are muddled with squeaks and snorts as he grasps desperately at your wandering fingertips. Hot tears stream down his face while he jumps to his feet, placing your hands in an iron grip.

You find yourself in the same position as your last baking session, bodies pressed together like there’s no space left in the world. He giggles at the sight of you wiggling your hands, trying desperately to break them free.

“Taeyongie, I’m done! Promise.” His makes a short tsk tsk with his tongue, pulling you even closer.

“Im sorry (Y/N), you’ve broken my trust! I’ll never lo- Be happy again!” Despite the claims, he lets go of your hands. They immediately rest on his shoulders, one of his own hands poking a piece of hair behind your ear. With your limbs entangled, you chat idly for at least half an hour. It feels almost like you’re drinking up the final drops of him, heart growing heavy every single time he mentions Korea.

“How badly are you going to miss me?” You ask, eyes glimmering playfully. He laughs, thumb rubbing a circle on your cheek where his hand is still rested.

“More than I miss kimchi right now. You are the highlight of my day, every single day, and I have no idea how I’m going to cope without you.” The words are punctuated with a pout. You can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, maybe the strict stare of moonlight. Perhaps the breeze that grazes your thighs, or the heavy weight of Taeyongs beautiful hands holding you as though you’re something precious, but fat tears start to well in your eyes. As soon as Taeyong notices he becomes panicked, dropping his hand from your face, “What’s wrong? Did I say something?” Tears start to fall, your chest clenching so tightly that you have to gasp for air.

“No, no. It’s just-” He runs a hand through his hair, fingers getting caught in the gel. It sticks up in every direction, like he’s been struck by lightning. If it weren’t for the tears in your eyes you would’ve laughed.

“You hate me now don’t you? I’m sorry, I wanted you to win. I thought you were!”

“What?” You blubber, Taeyongs chest starting to heave.

“I’ll give you my share of the earnings!”

“Oh goodness, don’t be an idiot!” You move a hand from his shoulder to wipe away a blackened tear, “That’s not w-why I’m crying.” Your lip quivers, rather pathetically. Taeyongs eyes are frantic, like he’s trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. He wants to fix it, you don’t know if he can.

“Oh... Um, then why are you crying?” His sweet voice combined with the way he looks down at you with furrowed eyebrows makes you cry even harder, wet sobs wrecking through your chest. He says nothing, simply pulling you into a bone crushing hug. If it weren’t for your already subpar air supply he would’ve squeezed the breath out of you.

“I just don’t want to leave!” You eventually force out, words bouncing around, “You make me s-such a nice person, I’m literally unbearable when I don’t have someone reminding me to be kind. A-and I don’t want us to not talk again, like I know you’re coming to France and all of that but I want t-to see you before then. I-i don’t want to not s-see you Taeyong, a-and I don’t want you t-to forget me a-” He swiftly brings a hand to the back of your neck, wrapping his long fingers around the curve.

“(Y/N), I will never forget you. Even if we didn’t talk for thousands of years, I will never ever forget you.”

“That’s what everyone says.” You look up as he sighs, coffee brown eyes flicking swiftly to your quivering lips.

“I’m not everyone.” He wipes away a tear, eyes gluing themselves to your lips, “I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?” The words don’t fully process, your brain still rambling from where your mouth was cut short.

“I don’t think you want to, I was just-” He drags you in from the waist with his free hand, heavy breaths hitting your wet cheeks.

“(Y/N)?” He’s taken on the same determined look he had earlier today in the kitchen, like he’s going to settle something.

“Yes?” Your voice comes out small, barely a whisper.

“I want to.” You don’t register nodding, or closing your watery eyes. The only things that exists within the next ten minutes are Taeyongs lips and yours.

He tastes intoxicating, like expensive red wine and homemade pastry. Taeyong is not a selfish person, and this kiss is no different. He’s going out of his way to make you feel safe, fighting against any needy instinct.

You wrap your hands around his neck, thumbing his jaw while trying to say ‘it’s okay’. When he pulls away your chests are heaving, lips aching for him to come back.

“Should we get back?” He asks, breathless. His lips are puffy, you swipe over them with your thumb just because you can.

“Um, yea. Sure.” He nods, pulling his hands away to straighten his blazer.

“Okay, alright. But first, this.” He presses a matter of fact kiss to your lips, your hands taking over and grasping him like he’s a necessity. They travel up and down his torso, pressing into crevices and dips. You’re trying to find which of his buttons to push, taking a mental note for later (the base of ribs. He turns into jelly when your thumb presses into that valley,) “You are handsy!” He giggles, linking together your arms and moving to the tall glass door.

Before you return to the party, you both flee into the bathroom to freshen up. He thought it might be inappropriate to return looking like he had just run a marathon. Or stung by a bee on the lips.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, curled hair now disheveled. Your cheeks are wet and stained black with flaky mascara, cupids bow shining. (Hopefully it’s not with snot.)

In that moment, you are positive that Taeyong is in love with you.

“Dear Taeyong,

“Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, Be calm – love me – today –yesterday – what tearful longings for you – you – you – my life – my all–farewell. Oh continue to love me – never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved. Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours.” - Beethoven to ‘Immortal Beloved’.

Ever yours, (Y/N)”

"Hurry up!”

“I’m trying, let me park the car!” You’re dashing onto the hot sand of the beach, shoes hanging precariously from your fingers. Taeyong clambers from his rental car, toting along a wicker picnic basket and plaid blanket. The sun is setting over crashing waves, sea salt piercing the air. You firmly plant your feet into the shore, inhaling deeply while taking in the view.

It’s almost weird to have Taeyong here, watching him assimilate so perfectly into your world. When he had landed last night the very first thing he had said was ‘Hello my love, I’m so excited to see you’ in flawless French. You crushed him in a hug, smothering his tired face in kisses. Having him here felt right, like the fairy tale ending on the last page of a book.

“This is my favorite sight.” You sigh, Taeyong wrapping an arm around your waist. He presses a kiss to your cheek, squeezing tighter.

“Mine too.” You snap your head to meet his gaze, affirming that he was staring lovingly at your profile. A giggle bubbles in your throat while you turn in his arms to match the embrace.

“You’re so cheesy.” He laughs, wind whipping blue tufts of hair in every direction.

“That’s why you like me, now help me set this up.”

When he finds perfectly circular lemon meringues at the top of the picnic basket a wide grin spreads across his face, immediately reaching into small bag they’re packed in. It makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, you decide that’s your favorite thing about him.

“That’s not all.” You sing, reaching into the mesh bag. Resting at the bottom of the package are two petite seashells, gold pins hot glued to the back.

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t!” An innocent laugh slips through your lips at your sweet boyfriend and his childlike excitement. You nod, leaning forward on your knees to secure the pin into his shirt.

“I did, and we’ll have madelines tomorrow.” He hums, quickly pecking your lips, “I wouldn’t recommend doing that while I’m handling a needle, you might get poked.” He giggles, leaning back on his hands.

“I’d get poked a thousand times if it meant I could kiss you once.” You roll your eyes, finally fastening the pin.

“You’re so drama-” He surges up, kissing you soft and slow. One of your hands cradles his neck, the other dropping to the base of his rib cage. He smells overwhelmingly of cinnamon and vanilla, the taste of lemon meringues heavy in his mouth.

“What were you saying?” He questions, a smirk toying happily with his lips. Taking in the sight of your sweet boyfriend relaxed on his elbows, the wind pushing his hair while waves crash mere feet away from you, makes something beautiful bubble in your chest. If weren’t for your grumbling stomach, you would sit there and kiss him until the sun set again.

“Oh, be quiet. I’m hungry.” You relax onto the blanket, Taeyongs hand traveling with you. It rests on your thigh, rubbing noxious circles.

When he secures your seashell pin into your white button up top his hands are shaking, knuckles softly brushing your jaw. You cover his hand with yours, offering a comforting smile. He giggles bashfully, turning his head to the sea. You sneak a kiss onto his jaw, then to the high point of his cheekbone, then again to the tail of his eyebrow. Taeyong finally looks back to you, something warm emanating from his smile.

“I love you.” He exhales, eyes sparkling. It reminds you of when you used to bake together, the way he would shine every time you would manage to slip into friendly banter, or the time that you accidentally turned the mixer on high after putting in a huge batch of flour. You remember your first kiss, the way Taeyong held you like the world was ending. The way he asked if it was okay.

“I love you too.”

You decide then and there that those two phrases, uttered while basking in sleepy sunshine, are the only things that matter.

#lee taeyong #taeyong fluff #taeyong imagines #taeyong x reader #taeyong x you #nct #nct fluff #nct imagines #fanfiction #fluff #taeyong angst #superm taeyong #superm fluff #the writing tag #admin reid #ari did an edit guys! :)

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jjkpls · 5 years

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> genre : smut, soulmate fluff

> pairing : park jimin x reader x kim taehyung

> words : 5.5k

> Taehyung is taken aback when his soulmate, Jimin, introduces his new girlfriend to him. Jimin tries to help them break the ice. (honestly pwp, slight slash)

> A/N : so... trying to get back into writing, hope this doesn’t suck too much (lmao way to sell your shit). so vmin 3some yay! thanks to anyone that’ll read it, let me know your thoughts ❤

It was one thing earlier when his fingers were laced in between the stiff locks of his hair. Short nails scraping on his scalp, gripping a little when his wet lips were covering the skin of his neck with love. It was warm, comforting, pleasing, felt like pure love and affection. Different from what they are used to give to each other but still oddly familiar.

But with her, it's something else. Taehyung does not know her. He hardly knows her voice. Has never met her heart. Does not know her body. As he is looking at her now, lain down, legs spread enough for him to sit in between, he realizes he meets her eyes for the very first time.

She looks kind. All he knows about her comes from what Jimin has told him. And for the most part, he was not listening. He was too busy trying to keep his heart from sinking with the weight of too many concerns, to care about whatever the hell she was studying and where she'd grown up.

His gaze falls from her eyes, slides along the line of her nose and the shiny curve of her swollen lips, to his own hands. They're spread over her naked waist. He doesn't even remember how it happened.

The skin feels so warm and soft under his palms. He does not feel like taking them off. He does not know if he wants more, if he can do more. Does she?

“I get it. I don't- I'm sorry for the way I acted before.” Jimin is beaming. His eyes have completely disappeared behind the thin crescent of his eyelids and Taehyung would make fun of him if it were not for the faint pink taint spread over the round tip of his nose, reminiscence of the big meltdown from earlier.

Jimin's chubby fingers wrap around the back of Taehyung's neck, cold rings recovering the skin in goosebumps, “I can have two soulmates, Tae. I do have two soulmates.”

Taehyung simply nods. He knows there is no discussion to hold anyway. He just has to accept it. He is not the only one to receive his friend's unconditional, endless love and devotion. He used to share, sure, with the rest of the band, and his family, and a part of the rest of the world. Jimin's heart is just so wide and so full and he wants to fulfil everybody and everyone with it. That's one of the reasons why he started loving him in the first place. How unfair would that be to blame him for it now?

He is scared though. He has not lost him yet but he is terrified he will. He knows his worth. Not so bad of a person, trying but lacking immensely. He knows how lucky he is to have him. Half of the time, he does not even know that he deserves him. But he's had him for so long, how could he give up on him now? He is just human. And he is greedy as one is.

“Taehyung, you don't have to worry. I won't take him away from you.” Taehyung looks down. She hasn't said much the whole time, her voice sounds so foreign, and sweet too.

She is waiting for him to say something, he does not and she flushes bright red under his feline gaze. She squirms around a little, her legs end up resting on his better. Taehyung let his hands slide along her sides, setting on her denim-covered thighs. He's grateful for her words. They've been spoken with a softness that he recognizes for he finds it in Jimin. He is sure she means it.

“You're adorable.” Taehyung whispers, charmed, as Jimin kisses his girlfriend's burning cheek.

“She is, isn't she?” Jimin is all giggles and sparkly eyes now. It is funny how excited he is at the prospect of having a friend see his girl and appreciate her the way he does, in this too intimate way. Then again, it is Jimin. He wants to spoil. He was made to spoil.

“Can I kiss you ?” Eyes diverting to her boyfriend, she absent-mindedly nibbles on her lips, licking them discreetly.

“You can do whatever you want as long as you don't forget who's your man.” He watches their interaction. It is weird. She is lain right there, almost under him, they're so close he can smell her scent -something mild and sugary that reminds him of an exotic fruit he can't pinpoint-; yet it feels oddly personal. He feels like a voyeur, observing the intimacy, the affinity of a longer secret conversation he is not part of. It is palpable. Maybe it is too wrong.

Her hands are pressing sheepishly on top of his now, making a flower of warmth bloom in his chest.

He does not understand how this whole thing can work. How it even just came about. Why do they need to include him, to give him some of this when they are obviously in perfect osmose already.

Taehyung wraps his fingers around her hands. His look so huge with hers nustled in their centre. They're warm, not very soft. He wonders why. He is pretty sure it's related to the thing she is studying or maybe a hobby of hers. Jimin's mentioned it but he can't remember.

From that thought, another one rises out of nowhere. When was the last time he has been this close to a girl? Probably some time in high school. So long ago, it feels like a whole life had passed by since then. He comes to this realization at the same time his heart does, apparently, as it suddenly starts beating hard and fast in growing anxiety and excitement.

A quick tentative peck on the corner of her mouth, and he is sure she wants it too so he just indulges into her. He assumed it would take more time for them to adjust to each other. It doesn't though. Quickly teeth are teasing, tongues meeting and exploring shamelessly. It feels so sultry, hot and steamy, he can't help but always lean in further, fingers digging in her thighs (secretly hoping it is hard enough to leave faint marks for them to look at later), mouths kissing always deeper.

And it gets hotter and bolder. His brain is definitely getting intoxicated by her perfume -he's decided to give up on trying to identify it now, from now on it's become her scent-, her touch, the moans she tries to conceal, how wet and warm and delicious her mouth feels.

His heart is about to burst and his arms are shaking, then fail to hold him up. He crashes into her, though he can’t even think about feeling apologetic when she seems so willing to welcome him in. Her tiny hands are gripping his shoulder and his waist, her legs are sliding up quietly around his waist. There’s no doubt she wants it as much as he does. And no doubt she feels as good as he does. He wonders, briefly, how much of him she’s feeling. Does she feel crushed, grounded down by the weight of his body? Because he feels pulled by her, by every bit of warm contact his body gets from hers.

He’s already so hard, it’s painful. Despite the anxiety and the confusion of the whole situation. His brain is still in a blur, trying to make out a logical and realistic scenario -the fumes their shared kisses and sheepish but needy touch induce are not helping.

He could not tell for how long they allowed themselves to lost into each other’s mouths but when he finally lifts himself up slightly, their ragged breaths, swollen and wet lips, burgundy cheeks and watery eyes mirror perfectly.

Jimin has slipped a hand between the two of them -hardly given the non-existence gap between their bodies- and he is now patting at his girlfriend covered crotch. Taehyung can feel it, the hand, obviously, but he can’t get himself to leave the warmth of the girl's proximity just yet. It doesn’t really trigger anything, this touch, foreign but not scary, so he just lets it be while he looks at her, staring at her boyfriend with big earnest eyes.

“Enjoyed kissing Tae?” Taehyung looks at the blush of her cheeks deepening two shades darker. It’s already addicting, watching her undergo her emotions with no ability to hide her shame and embarrassment. “I can feel how wet you are through your jeans, baby.” He is chuckling, while she mumbles something Taehyung doesn’t quite get, hidden as she is behind her hands but he grins anyway.

“Cute.” He realizes he said it aloud only because of Jimin’s crinkling eyes, jumping suddenly to meet his. He is grinning from ear to ear, overcome with joy as if the compliment was directed solely to him.

“See, Tae likes you now. I told you he would, didn’t I ?”

Was she worried? There are flashes of memories blinking in his mind. He can see himself not so subtly turning his back to her, serving her the nastiest tight-lipped smile and cold glare he owns, animatedly cursing at her to Jungkook trying desperately to get him to see his point -she was a bitch and Jimin too for leaving him- and he feels like shit. He was a dick. A jealous possessive greedy mean dickhead to this girl who, now that he takes a chance to yield his attention to, seems delectable.

They’re sharing another moment. Jimin is whispering in her ear, honey-coated words Taehyung can only imagine from the precious tiny changes in her expression, blessing her skin with kisses when she’s answering him back with the quietest words. They’re cute. And he wishes he could hear her while feeling awkward for intruding. But is he really intruding when she doesn’t make any move to get her legs to free his? He hates to interrupt -obviously not enough so to not proceed- but he’s scared they might flee before he tries to cease a chance. He feels he owes her for having been a massive ass. But also, he kind of really wants to.

“Can I...” He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to get their attention. Taehyung, who is a man who usually thrives from people’s ogling him, doesn’t shy away from but bathe in the attention, feels himself blush, hard, when the couple’s curious set of eyes fixate on him. They look so nice from down there, looking up to him expectantly. Still, he doesn’t know what they expect. And he still kind of feels like a sore thumb.

“I wanted to- I mean if you’re okay with it and-“ He is stuttering now like he’s fucking Jungkook and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He is not cute, he’s just awfully embarrassing. The chances of getting his request met are flying away with all his hopes. He wants to die a little or at least disappear but then Jimin’s chubby fingers are rubbing gently on his knuckles. He does it like he does all the time to reassure him or just show him support during interviews or even on stage. “Can I eat her out?” Jimin gives him a look. It's a bored one that says something along the lines of ‘I don’t know dude don’t ask me, I don’t have the pussy you wanna eat’. “I mean you- sorry, feels weird asking you...” He says, peering at her from between his dark lashes.

“Weirder than asking her boyfriend? Really?” And just like that Jimin's laughing again, and Taehyung wants to grab those fake ass friendly chubby fingers and crushed them in his fist until the traitor cries. “Babe, do you want it?”

“You can say no, I won’t- I mean you won’t hurt my feelings or anything. It’s- really if you want to.” She is looking right back at him, shiny eyes wavering but holding still. Her mouth is agape ready to say something that just won’t come out. He’s pretty sure it’s a yes. From the glint in her eyes, the rose that has reached her chest, the slight but unmissable way in which her legs parted more against Taehyung. He won’t do anything until she said so though.

She sheepishly nods. It’s almost good enough for him at this point. Well, for his engorged trapped cock anyways. But apparently, Jimin’s having none of it, if the impatient smack of his lips is any indication to go by.

“What is this pretty mouth of yours for?” He asks, voice lower and Busan dialect edges striking sharply to their ears. A mischievous glint dancing from a stare to another has Jimin giggling. “‘Course. But what else is it for?”

“Speak.”

“That’s right. So baby, tell us, do you want it or not?”

“Yes.”

“What is it that you want?” Her gaze is dark now, throwing daggers at her boyfriend who doesn't budge the slightest to avoid them. Taehyung follows the exchange with a growing fondness. She really is cute. Jimin not so much right now. Even Taehyung would call him a little shit. “You think I’m being mean babe but I’m not.” He is saying this with the most blatant grin, discrediting completely his claim. “Taehyung doesn’t know you well, yet, does he? Therefore it’s important for him that you’re clear with what you want and what you need. So you’re gonna look at him-“ Pinching her chin, he tilts her head gently for her to face Taehyung's. “-and you’re gonna tell him clearly what you want him to do to you.”

“I- I’d like you toeatmeout.” The words are barely understandable and Jimin's tongue clicks behind his front teeth. Taehyung has had enough though. “Stop annoying her, s’good enough.”

Jimin gasps dramatically, stares at his best friend, hand raising in the air like he’s about to smack some boundaries into him but the shit-eating grin wins and Taehyung starts unfastening her pants with fingers trembling with excitement.

Once she's naked from the waist down, he can tell she wants to shy away and he wishes he thought about it better and had kept her panties on for now. He spreads his large hands on her soft thighs, gently caressing, teasingly squeezing, attempting to smooth her down into feeling more reassured and confident in what she has to offer. Because god, does she have to offer, he thinks when he finally gets to see her.

The discovery is priceless. She looks so pretty, all pink and shiny, so shiny. There is a little hanging moment where he just stares, licking his lips without much thought, just emotions shaking him up until one thought emerges and threatens to freak him out into giving it all up.

He’s gone down twice on a girl before. Only twice. And that was back in fucking high school. He has no fucking idea how to eat pussies. Honestly. He can’t really gather all the ‘knowledge’ he’s gathered over the years from his high consumption of porn now, can he? They say it’s inaccurate and dumb but that’s all he’s got.

He then remembers what some of his hyungs had said, one of those late -or more accurately early morning- drunken conversations.

“If you wanna be good at it, you just gotta enjoy it.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You just enjoy it. Do it cause you want it, you’re hungry.”

“I’d say you eat it like jjajangmyeon.”

“What the hell hyung!”

Like jjajangmyeon. Well fuck, thanks Jin hyung. He’s then looking at her from up close. Lying on his stomach to get closer, the new proximity makes his heart beat harder. He can smell her he realizes and the thought that, when this is all done, tomorrow and the days to come, he’ll still have this piece of her in his mind that only Jimin will share, drives him a little insane. The other boys will get along, get to know her but he will have the most intimate sense of her that none of them will.

He settles, squirming around a bit to get more comfortable, his forearm ends up brushing against Jimin’s crotch and the rock hard member hidden in his jeans. Jimin hisses, while his friend erupts in a loud fit of thunder like laughter. “Why does it turn you on so much to have someone else taste your girlfriend, you weirdo?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.” They giggle like schoolboys, a part of it probably fueled by nervousness, eyes attached to one another. And as they share this intimate gaze, Taehyung feels like a complete and utter idiot to have ever doubted those tender chocolate eyes. He’d never let him down. He smiles before turning back to her.

From up close she looks even more endearing. The dim light is hitting just right to make the obvious wetness shown, it’s like it fucking glitters. And the pink so flushed, you'd think she’s been played with and abused a little bit already. He deems he gets it, what Yoongi hyung has said -not fucking moronic Jin hyung. When he sees her like that, he’s not sure he wants to taste her to make her feel good or to satisfy a curiosity and a thirst that he experiences.

Therefore, without much more thinking, without the least forewarning, he just dives in. Attaching his mouth roughly, messily, all over and licking and slurping and sucking, making out with it like a long lost lover. It’s infuriating those sensations. The thought of being so intimate with someone after such a long time of nothing. That person to be his best friend's girl, instead of seeming odd, fills him with gratitude.

And she feels so sweet. Her taste, her warmth, her trembling thighs around his head. She's the kindest gift he’s ever been granted. That's why he tries to give it his whole, not trying to keep it clean and collected. He thinks briefly that at least if he doesn’t do it right, they’ll be able to tell how willing and devoted he’d tried to be.

He’s not sure how well he is doing because she is pretty quiet. He is sure as hell enjoying his feast, as suggests his rutting against the mattress but to his disappointment, it doesn’t last. Or at least, he feels like it’s too short as after what feels only a few minutes, while the tip of his nose is rubbing against her engorged nub, she comes in a succession of charming cries, her hole seizing around the tip of Taehyung's tongue as a few spurts of her cum slip in his mouth.

He sees the way her hole is squeezing around nothing, how laboured her breathing has become now that she’s coming down, but he can’t admit that it’s already over. He kisses her clit tentatively, ready to go again but a hard pull of his hair yanks him up and away from her.

Jimin’s not even looking at him, despite the firm hold on his mop of hair. It’s painful so he doesn’t move an inch, simply watching, waiting for what’s to unfold, secretly hoping that more will be allowed for him to do in a moment if he shows himself patient enough.

Jimin, still ignoring Taehyung, is staring at his girlfriend's face, his full lips stretched into an amused grin, “I don’t remember the last time you’ve come that fast. Was Taehyung that good or were you just that excited?”

“Both.” She whispers, fighting off a smile that threatens to breakthrough. That’s funny how intimidated she still seems to feel, avoiding, for the most part, to hold his gaze for too long, speaking hardly above a whisper for only Jimin to be blessed with her thoughts. Yet, she still is spread open for him, some of her cum still glistening on his chin.

Jimin turns to look at his best friend after having placed a tender peck on her warm cheek, and he smiles fondly. The hand stuck in Taehyung's hair smooths its grip, sliding down along the back of his head, to slip under the hair so the short nails of his fingers can scratch his scalp gently.

“Thanks, Tae. You did well.” He's petting his head like he would a good dog before he lets him go, leaning back against the headboard. “Come here.”

In a swift motion, she's up and away from Taehyung, sitting comfortably on her boyfriend's lap, taking the seat so naturally like it's undeniably her own.

Taehyung, sat on his knees, is watching, probably like a creep, with great interest. He swipes his hair back from his sweaty forehead. Is it over now? Are they expecting him to leave? They're so lost into each other, obnoxious make out noises interrupted here and there by strained moans. Perhaps he should leave. He can't really move though, and his eyes can't stop staring at the dimples of her lower back that wink at him each time Jimin's wandering hands rise her tee-shirt high enough.

“Um?” Jimin's looking at her with raised eyebrows, his palms now holding her cheeks. She leans in to whisper something in his ear. “Of course, I will.” He answers, a kiss on her jaw. She mutters something else only for him to hear. “I don't know. Ask him.”

She turns around, showing off her pretty eyes and soft cheeks which crimson has still hasn't faded out. The duality of her is making him dizzy. She looks so innocent yet sexier than anyone has ever had.

Tender kisses pressed to the side of her neck encourage her and finally, with a trembling voice, she addresses him, “Are you going to stay?” He bites back a smile.

“Do you want me to?” She nods. The grin is harder to conceal. He tries to nuance it by licking his lips, face lowering down for a second. “Then, I'll stay.”

They fit so well together. Not in a strictly practical way, it’s something more subtle. It’s in their movements. How they move along, at the same rhythm, in the same direction, both following and guiding each other. It's like their bodies are so familiar to each other, nothing is lagging, or not completely natural.

Her legs, tied by the ankles behind his back, are holding him tight against her since the moment he slipped in. Jimin slowly thrusts forward -he needs to go slow as she doesn’t handle over sensitivity very well, as he explained so himself-, a tiny whiny moan and a severe groan, and Taehyung, who’s just witnessing the scene, sitting quietly on the bed next to them, feels himself growing a fever.

“Do you like having Tae watching you ?” At the mention of his name, Taehyung's whole stature straightens up like a meerkat. Jimin is gauging his friend's reaction, the most teasing smirk brightening his face under a new sinful light. Taehyung takes it as an invitation to get closer, lying right beside her, lain on her back. Head held by his hand to see her better and take in all the delicious expressions her pretty face makes.

“Yes.” She mewls, eyes shutting close at a particularly deep thrust.

“I love watching you, ___.” His deep voice mumbles to her ear. He’s pleased to see her visibly shiver. “You look so hot getting fucked...”

“Thank you.” Both men burst out laughing while she remains there, too fucked out to be dying of embarrassment.

“You’re so cute.” Taehyung keeps on going. He finally feels like the wall between them is gone for good. The way she throws him little glances, every now and then, with sugary smiles. “So beautiful.” He adds, his big charming eyes glued to hers. She blushes to the tip of her ears. Jimin, face buried in her neck, is groaning and whispering his own collection of praises; telling her how heavenly she feels, how good she is to him, and how beautiful indeed she looks lying there taking him in so nicely.

She’s bathing in, visibly loving his words as much as his ministrations and Taehyung is so amused to acknowledge that the alleged praise kink he thought to be a unique quirk of Jimin's, is apparently shared by her. At some point, the words and the soft kisses are too much and Taehyung sees how her hands clench harder on her boyfriend's back not from his thrusts but from his compliments and he’s living it up, relishing it.

“Stop clenching so hard you go- gonna make me-“ He’s cut himself off with the weakest whine Taehyung’s ever heard from him -and God knows this guy is a full-time professional whiner.

He hasn’t come yet, neither has she, but they’re right at the edge. So close that Jimin can simply not keep his pace soft and lenient anymore. He’s pounding hard and fast, smacking his hips loudly against hers and fuck, if this is not the hottest thing Taehyung has ever witnessed. He’s sweating bullets.

“Jimin I’m gonna-“

“Yeah? I’ve got you, baby, come for me. Show Tae how pretty you look when you come.”

And that’s exactly what she does. Looking at their voyeur, her pretty eyes begging for him to watch her, she comes right around her lover's cock, in a mess of indecipherable moans. Jimin follows suit, almost instantly, squeezing her ass in his hands, messily hitting his hips a couple of definitive times.

Taehyung felt weird engaging any skinship with his friend whilst he was in the middle of his coit but when his face is laid down, half of it all scrunched up because of his chubby cheek being pressed so hard against her chest, with his peaceful, totally content expression and rosy cheeks, Taehyung can’t help but reach out a hand and tease under his chin with caresses from the tip of his fingers.

“You did well, Minnie.” He mocks to which Jimin, with difficulty, raises a hand to pinch his mate's nipple. And they start bickering. Jimin’s butt naked, Taehyung still turned on beyond belief lain beside his best friend's half-naked girl, and they fight -sort of, Jimin’s only committed one arm to the fight, and Taehyung's attacks are pretty tame by fear of disturbing her- but they do, like little kids, like they always do, until a feminine voice, strained by nervousness and something else, probably envy, brings them to a halt.

“Taehyung is still hard, Jimin.” She didn’t whisper this time. Her voice is still pretty low and soft, but the calm that comes after a crazily heavy orgasm like the two she’s experienced so far is responsible more than remaining intimidation. Nonetheless, she’s loud enough for Taehyung to hear, and he can tell she wants him to hear.

“Uh-uh,” Jimin says, returning to his position, cuddled up and nuzzling against her breast. Looking at her curiously from under, he continues. “So what? Do you wanna do something about it?” She nods, turning her lip white from how hard she bites on it. “You think you can take his cock too?” She nods again with an evident enthusiasm but Jimin only chuckles. “Baby, I think you’re getting a bit over your head. You could hardly have me.”

“But-“

“Yeah...” Taehyung starts, voice hoarse from the crazy ride his mind just has taken him during the past few seconds. He is going against what his whole being is desperately craving as he says what he believes is the right thing to add. “Don’t worry about me.”

“But-“

“___, do I need to remind you of the whole Valentine’s Day debacle? Or you want me to tell it to Tae?” Silence. “You’re not taking his dick tonight, it won’t feel good.” The Busan dialect is back. Taehyung wants to laugh at how much like a dad he sounds more than a boyfriend. Picking a look at her, he realizes she matches with her pouty lips and drawn eyebrows, alike a bratty little girl.

“Do you still wanna help me come?” She’s observing him carefully with wide earnest eyes. “I wouldn’t mind having your hand...” He’s being awfully modest. Too modest. But when he sees her eyes shine and how fast she is to dismiss Jimin’s hold on her so she can face him more comfortably, her hand already reaching for his pants, he wishes he’s asked for more -like her lovely mouth for example- she looks like she would have given him anything he dared to ask right now.

It’s been months since he thought to his very frustrated self that jerking off couldn’t do it anymore for him. Too much time on his own hands, not enough extra attention from someone else, it just left him with virtual semi-blue balls each time.

But here she is, seemingly pressing buttons he didn’t know he had, provoking shock waves to shake him while leaving his vision completely white for few seconds at a time, and he doesn’t understand how one could master in a fucking discipline such as handjobs; and what the hell is she doing that feels so much better than when he does it; and how the hell is he supposed to hold himself back long enough to actually enjoy it when it feels that wonderful.

“Fuck-“ He growls out loud because now Jimin’s at it too. He can feel her breath hitting gently his cheek on one side and the kisses left by the plump wet lips of his friend on the other side.

He blinks furiously, wondering why the world seems so blurry and shaky and if he’s not really going to lose his mind this time. He always thought he was made to do so at some point, lose it somewhere, during one of his explorations into those too beautifully eerie places he likes to visit, since his head is so airy. But he never thought he would because of a handjob from his best friend's girl and said best friend's fucking sloppy neck kisses.

When he hears him curse so heartily, Jimin raises his head up to take a look at him, beyond amused. For a second too long, they stare at each other and their mouths, pondering until in sync, they scrunch their noses, shaking their heads, “Yeah maybe not.”

“Definitely no. But uh- feels nice on my neck.”

Laughing too loudly, Jimin complies, encouraged by the hand petting the back of his hair. And then she is playing with his slit, teasing harshly he can barely take it, and she softens her second hand around his balls and a new white flash lasts longer than the other ones.

“Fuck I’m close, just- please ah- squeeze har-“ She’s already on it. “Ah yes and f-faster-“ Again so diligently she meets his needs and in a couple of more strokes, he finally comes, harder than he can remember ever coming.

Maybe he’s a bit over the top, overreacting for a simple handjob but he’s been so hard for the past hour and they’re so nice and gentle with him, her nicely accompanying his dick softening, him pecking at his ear with sweet words only Jimin knows how to use.

It feels so nice.

Nicer than everything else has ever felt.

When his heart finally calms down, and his mind is back from the outer world, he acknowledges how weird it is that they still lie so comfortably in bed but more importantly, he is the one in between the couple; how this is a unique thing that won’t happen again and the wants and urges he’s mind is currently getting clogged up with won’t happen ever.

“So now will we be hanging out all together?” Jimin asks suddenly. His tone is all cheery and jumpy, his mission's been cleared he thinks and he can already picture the three of them.

“Honestly, I think I won’t be able to look at any of you in the eyes for some times.” Taehyung answers, half chuckling.

Especially Jimin. Especially after the thoughts that crossed his mind because of this damn mouth, thoughts he really needs to annihilate forever.

“You already regret it?” She is quick to ask.

“No I- I mean it was really fun.”

“Yeah, I thought so too...”

Taehyung turns his head to his right, looking at the blushy cheeks and timid but playful smile. And there’s something there that they share. He’s not sure what the fuck this whole night was about. He’s sure he’ll wonder for a long fucking time. But maybe, eventually, they’ll sort it out and who knows maybe... wish and try for more.

Maybe not. At least he’s sure they shared something special, and that new bonding won’t fade.

“So... what’s the Valentine's debacle ?”

#bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfction #jimin smut #taehyung smut #v smut #vmin smut #vmin #jimin fluff #taehyung fluff #my writing

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anonthenullifier · 5 years

Text

To Avoid a Scene

Vision and Wanda meet for the first time after Leipzig.

AO3 link

The uneven cobblestones cause an odd pressure against his soles, the rounded bumps jutting up at varying angles and depths creating a sense of uneasiness in his usually confident gait. His ankles react immediately, stabilizing him, and Vision discovers that the whole experience is charming in its simplicity, a new sensation he has not encountered before. The alley he traverses is narrow, rows of brightly painted houses snuggled close together, the colors random and appealing, some of the stucco sides trimmed with ornate patterns, while others have murals of royalty and piety. Vision reaches out a hand, trailing it over a basketball sized stone built into the wall of one of the houses (or perhaps the house was built around the stone, a philosophical debate only time travel might solve).

A group of young men round the corner, their presence instantly setting his body into a quiet terror, the disguise he’s wearing is new, only tested three times in public back in New York. Vision shoves his hands into his pants pockets, shoulders lifting defensively as he tucks his chin down, and he inches closer to the wall. The men don’t seem to notice him, or if they do there is no indication they think anything of his presence. He is almost clear of the group when one of them veers off, distracted by his phone, and Vision tenses as he fights the urge to phase his body through the man. Instead he allows their shoulders to bump, jostling the stranger slightly. “Przepraszam*.” Vision’s apology is quiet, worry about his accent being too off or his pronunciation horrific tempering the sureness that typically instills his voice. The man, thankfully, continues without another look and Vision releases a breath.

The alleyway gives way to a square, the same types of buildings, these colors perhaps more diverse and bright with their red shingled roofs, line the perimeter. In the middle of the square, atop the smaller, more even brick foundation, are white tents housing tables and chairs, lanterns hanging on posts next to each table while other, smaller string lights twine around the rods at the ceiling of the tent. It is serene, almost like a painting, the colors blending into a surreal and comforting conglomeration of twinkling lights and happy voices. An accordion player adds to the overall ambience, the music moderately paced and carefree, creating an almost fairytale-like quality.

Among all of these lights somewhere is Wanda.

It has been exactly 38 days since the Raft breakout, 38 days of relative silence in the compound, Tony occasionally conversing with him, mostly concerning Rhodes and finding Steve, but those moments are fleeting. Tracking down the rogue Avengers was not easy, nor did he necessarily follow the Accords’ protocol to locate them in Wakanda, particularly the part that stated once he found them he had to turn them in. Somehow he missed that step, instead amending his own internal protocol and contacting T’Challa. From there he received little news, thinly veiled comments suggested the fugitive teammates were fine but nothing truly substantial. He had attempted more pointed inquiries about Wanda, yet those were never answered. That is until he received a heavily encrypted and straightforward message - Warsaw, Rynek Starego Miasta, 23rd of June, 21:00, disguise required - W. He immediately destroyed all evidence of the message and then proceeded to convince Tony to allow him to follow a lead on Steve’s whereabouts.

There are many things he hopes are connected to this invitation. First is that it means she had actually received his own communications. Second, that what he said in them was enough to convince her of his intentions, or lack of intentions to turn her back over to General Ross (another convenient breach from the Accords that should concern him, but silence and 38 days of thinking has changed his perceptions on the rigidness of loyalty to laws). Third, and this is perhaps the thought that causes the greatest increase in his pulse, the arhythmic beating of his heart deafening when he considers the possibility, perhaps she has missed him too.

Vision methodically meanders around the perimeter of the tents, ocular sensors reprogrammed to specifically search out Wanda (and all the other fugitives). The facial recognition software was fine-tuned and updated courtesy of Stark for the purpose of being better able to find their teammates, though he doubts this meeting was the intended outcome of the upgrade. An invisible rope loops around his chest, squeezing the excess air from his lungs when he finally locates her, his heart drumming so quickly it clashes horribly with the rhythm of the accordion player in the square. His hands seek an even deeper refuge in his pockets, fingers clenching nervously as he approaches the blonde-haired hostess standing at the front of the tent, who smiles at him, “Dobry wieczór**.”

“I-“ Natasha, during the time when they were all together, before the Accords, always insisted on having a working knowledge of any language required for a mission. This did not mean being conversational but at least being aware of the tasks involved and having enough of a vocabulary to function within the constraints of the mission. Vision, unfortunately, did not factor in to his language acquisition that he would be meeting Wanda at a restaurant, he had assumed their meeting would be more clandestine. What he is never, ever, under any circumstance supposed to do in an undercover mission (not that he has actually been on such a mission but he has attended all the trainings) is betray his foreignness to the area. It’s a good thing Natasha is not here to see his utter failure. “I um, am meeting a friend.”

“Ah okay,” the woman smiles politely, transitioning into English while waving her hand towards the tables, “enjoy your meal.”

Vision offers a grateful smile and a “Dziękuję***” before winding slowly through the maze of diners until he sees her sitting at a two person table in the corner.

A term he comes across often in reading books of varying styles and genres is having one’s heart in their mouth. It never quite made sense to him since it is anatomically impossible and quite an exaggeration and yet, currently, if not for his reliable physiological assessments that say otherwise, his heart is beating so furiously that it feels as if it has journeyed upwards to writhe anxiously on his tongue. He is overwhelmed at the sight of her, not fully convinced she is actually at the table, his mind attempting to rationalize that he may be hallucinating. The woman has strawberry blonde hair and is wearing warmer colors than he’s ever seen on Wanda. Yet the way the lantern next to the table illuminates her face, highlights her defined cheekbones and the gentle curve of her lips, glistens off the rings adorning her fingers, leaves little doubt that it is actually Wanda. Then she makes eye contact with him, the sly smirk on her face further cements it is her and he isn’t consciously aware of his feet continuing to move until he reaches the table.

“Wanda…” her name trails off, his voice caught between ending at her name or continuing on to inform her it is him, given his vastly different appearance. She, in her typical fashion, rescues him from this awkwardness.

A tight smile accompanies her, “Hi, Vision.” The message was clear on the time and place, thus it shouldn’t be a surprise she can logically conclude the blonde haired man standing in front of her is him, but he is still amazed at the seamless acceptance of his disguise. Wanda studies him with a detached sort of interest, one not nearly as warm as before the Accords. “Your mind feels different from everyone else.” The explanation is acceptable, the notion she sensed him with her powers stirs a longing inside him, a desire to feel the touch of scarlet in his mind, lose himself in the serenity of her presence. “You can sit.”

“Yes, sorry.” Vision’s hand trembles slightly as he pulls out the chair and lowers himself down.

“That’s,” she points a finger at him, moving it up and down in the air, “a new look for you.”

One of the hardest normative behaviors to understand after he was created was the use of humor; the timing, the content, the tone, and the delivery all requiring numerous factors to determine the efficacy of the joke. He practiced so much with Wanda (she was the most willing to help him and he enjoyed her laughter the most) that he finds it comes naturally now, without thought. Vision pointedly plucks the polo he’s wearing. “I attempted to study Polish fashion in order to fit in.”

His victory is a minuscule smirk and an even less perceptible shake of her head before the amusement vanishes from her face, replaced by a reserved seriousness. “How does it work?”

Vision had not expected to need to speak so openly about his powers in such a place, his eyes reluctantly leaving Wanda’s face to assess the attention of those around them . No one seems at all interested in their conversation, far too lost in their own. So he turns back to Wanda and proceeds. “It is an integration of Mr. Stark’s,” she bristles at the name, something Vision would normally and politely point out, only he does not bemoan her it now and so he continues, “latest nanotechnology and my molecular manipulation. We have found the nanotechnology helps to stabilize my abilities for longer durations and also when I am caught off guard.”

“You’ve never lost your clothing by being surprised or,” she shrugs, head bobbing in time with her thoughts, “ever, actually, regardless of how long you were in them.”

“This is true, but the effort for a complete shift of appearance is significantly greater and requires a constant level of conscious awareness. The nanotechnology serves the role of my awareness, essentially.”

The waiter comes to the table, silencing Vision’s next thought, and places a white porcelain mug (that sits on a matching little saucer) along with a plate containing what looks to be a mix between an apple pie and a cake. The man turns towards Vision, “Dla ciebie****?”

Much to Vision’s appreciation, given his clearly poor preparation and the fact his mind cannot focus on anything other than the way the lantern casts shadows on Wanda’s face, Wanda saves him. “On nie jest głodny*****.”

A polite annoyance instills the nod of understanding, the man bowing slightly towards Wanda, “Smacznego******.”

“Dziękuję,” the friendly smile tugging the corners of her mouth up falls once the man is gone and it is just the two of them once more, “I assume you aren’t hungry.”

“Correct.” Vision is uncertain how to enter into the conversation he knows they should have, the polite, surface level words pleasant so far but he understands the wounds of their actions are far too deep to be alleviated by pleasantries. Yet, watching her wrap her fingers around the mug, lifting it to her face where she inhales the aromatic steam, a soft smile on her face, makes him want to remain right at this level of camaraderie. “You have a new look as well.”

She takes a sip, eyes watching him over the rim of the cup. “Yeah, Nat requires a new hair color every two weeks, new clothing needs to be cycled in periodically.” Another sip and still her eyes won’t leave him, something of a challenge forming on her face. “Luckily she said we can repeat colors once we run out of options.”

“Perhaps you will not need to do so for long.” The comment escapes before he can reel it back in, betraying the thoughts he’s had almost hourly since the airport. Vision understands (mostly, at least) the complicated relationship and clashing of ideology between Tony and Steve so he is well aware of the naivety of the statement. As is Wanda, whose demeanor slides from distantly warm to frigid, her eyes narrowing.

“Oh? You think we’re going to cave, agree to sign the Accords?”

Vision’s hands rise up slightly, palms facing her in hopes of conveying his apologies at the muddied intention of the comment. “No, not at all-“

“Is Ross rescinding them then?”

“No, I-“

The cup clinks defiantly against the saucer, her body bending forward as her voice lowers, likely to keep her anger hidden so the people around them won’t begin to take notice of the disruption to their pleasant evening, “Then why say it?”

If it was 45 days ago, Vision would consider reaching out, employing the tactile comfort he had only recently become more comfortable using with Wanda, but he knows it would be a mistake to do it now. There is an invisible but defined boundary between them, one he will not cross in fear of losing the potential of future meetings. This line is not just physical, clearly his words have set off alarms already. “Because I-“ the truth of his loneliness is undeniable though he isn’t certain if that will invoke more ire or if it would be well met, perhaps even reciprocated, “it is so different now.”

A commiserate nod goes along with her dry, “Very different.”

The silence that encases their corner is bloated with all the words that need to be said, the truths of their actions and all that has befallen them. He even practiced his apology on his flight, stumbling over the growing list of regrets including his persistent guilt over keeping her at the compound, his decision to leave her on the tarmac to check on Rhodes, his inability to garner security clearance to see her at the Raft, and his cowardice in not shirking the rules earlier to get to her. None of that comes out though, the silence punctured only by the scrape of her fork and the distant disembodied conversations of the happy people around them. When he finally finds something to say it is embarrassingly empty. “What are you eating?”

“It’s szarlotka - apple pie.”

A sense of deflation occurs at the answer, at the depth of conversation they are having. His hopes of deep understanding and reconciliation dropping away as the silence crawls back in. “Why did you wish to meet?”

Wanda puts the fork down.”Why did you try to contact me so many times?” So she did receive them.

“I-” Vision feels the eyes of the world on him, whether it is true or not, he always feels watched and judged. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

Her “No” is unflinching and then it morphs into a weapon, “I chose this place because you don’t like to make a scene.”

The depths of his missteps have haunted him, every decision that led them to this restaurant closes in on his mind as he realizes the severity of their severed trust. “I have no intention of sending you back to...” He can’t say it, not after the security videos he watched, after seeing the torture they put all of his teammates through, the worst of it always reserved for Wanda. “Please believe me.”

Wanda studies her nails, rubbing at the chipped polish on the tip of her thumb, returning to her prior question with a little less anger and an increased sense of desperation. “Why did you try to contact me so many times?”

This is the moment he has wanted, needed to experience, has spent hours and hours ruminating about what exactly he will say and how she will respond and whether she will smile at him and take his hand like she used to or if she will stand up in disgust and walk away, lost to him forever. A third option exists now, a possibility that she responds apathetically and then tells him it was nice to see him, the way old friends do in movies when they know this is the last time they will meet, too different now, too far along diverging paths for anything more to happen. Vision has no control over her reaction, something he has told himself over and over again. He only can control his own self. “Because I miss you.” She doesn’t stand in anger. “Because I have spent every minute since Clint came to the compound thinking about all of the harm I have caused you. I am ashamed of my behaviors and of the consequences I did not realize they would have.” Her face is not filled with apathy, instead it is a brimming with melancholy. “I needed to apologize to you.” It is a pathetic version of what he had scripted, less eloquent and verbose, having prepared separate apologies for each transgression. Except he can’t seem to remember his words around her, a factor he should have included in his calculations.

“Thank you.” The weight of those two syllables is immense, the start of his atonement evident in the way she says it, without anger and without annoyance.

The other factor in his prior correspondence attempts had been to assess her well-being, something he believed he may be able to do now given her less guarded tone. “How have you been doing?”

Immediately her countenance shifts, returning to a cool detachedness. “I’m surviving.” As she always does, her resilience awe-inspiring. “You should probably leave now.”

Vision has a feeling of his heart dropping down into his stomach, which is not true but he can’t seem to make his mind think otherwise. “Why? Was it something I said?”

“No.” A fleeting curve pulls her mouth up. “I have to do a video check in with the others soon.”

“May I walk you back?” As he asks the question he is already aware of the answer. One brief conversation is not nearly enough to repair what has been done. If she already was worried for her safety, him knowing her actual location is too big of a danger.

Wanda confirms his thinking, “No. I’m going to sit here by myself a bit longer and then see if I can get back safely.”

“Wanda I-” no doubt she believes there is an ambush, that he is the bait used to bring about her complacency before the others surround her and take her back. If meeting him at the restaurant was to avoid a scene, she will remain in public as long as she can. The best he can do is attempt to allay her fears, “I promise, no one else knows you are here.”

The stare she gives him is heartbreaking, stitched with threads of pity and skepticism. “I trust you, Vision,” words that fish his heart out of his stomach, giving it wings to flutter in his chest, “but I don’t trust Stark. How do you know he didn’t track you?”

Immediately he thinks Because I trust him and is glad when he does not actually say that, because even if he truly believes Stark would not do that, he cannot say it with 100% certainty. All of them have been greatly affected by falling out of the Avengers. Suspicions and tensions are high. While Vision was corresponding with T’Challa, he and Tony had many carefully worded and suggestive conversations that always left a bitter taste in Vision’s mouth and a fear that Tony somehow knew. What if the upgrades with the sensors are relayed directly to Tony? What if he has been listening the entire time? Vision did a full body scan prior to coming and found nothing of concern. But it could be in the nanotechnology, it could be in his communicator, Tony could be waiting down the street to arrest Wanda. “I don’t.” A tight, forgiving line closes her mouth. “May I at least remain in the skies to ensure nothing comes for you?”

“I can’t really stop you from doing it.”

For the first time in a long time he genuinely smiles, an action she almost mimics completely. “I should go then.” Wanda nods, watching as he stands. This is where he should apologize once more, wish her luck and a safe night. “How did you know I had a disguise?”

“I didn’t.” A whirlpool of questions swirls in his mind, unsure which one to pluck out. A pressure on his fingers calms the storm, his gaze turning down to see her lightly gripping his last two fingers, the disguise fading from the skin directly under her touch. “But I had a feeling you’d find a way to see me.”

Vision knows if he allows the surge of joy in his heart to rain from his eyes that it will cause a scene, so he tamps his hope and provides her with what he intends to be a friendly tone. “Good night, Wanda. May our paths cross again.”

The softness of her “Goodbye, Vizh,” remains in his mind for the rest of the evening as he hovers above the city, keeping a careful watch.

*Przepraszam = Excuse me

**Dobry wieczór = Good evening

***Dziękuję = Thank you

*****Dla ciebie = For you

*****On nie jest głodny = He is not hungry.

******Smacznego = Bon appetit

#scarlet vision #wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #thescarletvisionnetwork #the vision #mcu #i know there have been a lot of these #but i finally came back to it after two years #mine

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cheshiresense · 6 years

Text

Just a thing I wrote up over on discord and thought I’d post here too. It’s basically a long rambling summary of one of the many headcanons i have for KHR.

I’m too lazy to copy/paste the pinglist and technically this isn’t a fic snippet anyway.

AU with Mare!Tsuna, Arcobaleno!Byakuran, and Vongola!Yuni

In which Tsuna's the one who goes off the deep end and takes over the world. And unlike Byakuran, he succeeds. Where Byakuran used strength in numbers and overwhelming power and all the information he could gather from his alternate universe selves but was ultimately utterly alone, Tsuna has always dealt in kindness, and that's no different in a world where he embodies the Mare Sky.

In this verse, I sort of want their situations to be the same, just with Yuni/Byakuran/Tsuna switching places. So Yuni grows up with her Flames sealed, she has a better time of it than Tsuna because she's a girl, and most boys aren't quite ass ready to hit her, but girls can be equally vicious without ever throwing a fist, and Yuni stands out far too much with the way she trips over everything and is average at best in her schoolwork and looks too foreign in a small-town Japanese school. She grows up alone and lonely with a distant mother, and even when Reborn crashes into her life, things don't get much better. Her new friends don't really listen to her, half of them have known her their entire lives in Namimori and all of them only like her now because she can give them excitement and adventure and reputation just by associating with her (why does nobody see the death and violence?). She can't say she likes fighting either, not the way literally all her "Guardians" seem to, but it's not like she has a choice in the matter, not when Reborn is there, gun in hand and her whole life mapped out for her. So she does what she's told to the best of her ability, as she's done her entire life - she fights the enemies dumped in her lap, everyone from school rivals to the professional assassins, all wanting to hurt her or kill her for their own reasons, and some part of her laments the fact that she finds Mukuro of all people the most relatable. She doesn't think she can hate the mafia as much as he does because she hasn't lived his life, but she hates that she has no choice in the life that's been dictated for her, and that at least is a little like the cage Mukuro grew up in. She admires him too, the way he broke out of that cage with his own strength, although of course she doesn't say that within her tutor's hearing range. Reborn already disapproves of her too-soft heart.

Byakuran is old. He has been the Sky Arcobaleno for almost two generations now, the most powerful one in living memory. He lost his first set of guardians to time and Checkerface and the greater good. He refused to care about the second set gathered for him, and now the other Arcobaleno live their own lives, as freelancers and hitmen and assassins, all resentful of Byakuran and fearful of the day their life energy sputters out and Checkerface comes to collect. Byakuran does the same, more or less, although he lost his fear of Checkerface approximately a lifetime and a half ago. His end will come when it comes, although with the way his Flames still burn bright inside him, it's possible he might even see a third generation before his usefulness comes to an end. So he wanders the world on his own whims, taking hits here and there when the fancy strikes or when he needs some extra money, but never settling in one place.

(Some part of him is honestly just waiting to die, and he knows it. He's old and bored and any energy he had left to spare for raging at the sheer unfairness of his lot in life fizzled out a long time ago. He's resigned nowadays, because nothing he's ever tried and nobody he's ever talked to has been able to help him break the Curse. The simple truth of it is that he's given up, and the only reason he hasn't taken his own life yet is because the Pacifier won't let him.)

So he wanders and waits, caring for nothing and no one, alone.

And Tsuna. Tsuna sees it all. He sees all the other universes where Byakuran possessed the Mare Sky Ring and went mad with it and ultimately failed to take over the world. He sees all those other Yunis who inherited the Arcobaleno Sky Pacifier and came too late despite being part of their generation's Tri-Ni-Sette. He sees himself, so many variations who all descended from Vongola, beaten down and pieced back together into the perfect mafia boss, his own wishes ignored and denied and forgotten by friends and foes alike until even he himself settled meekly into the role that Vongola demanded of him.

And of course he sees his own world. He sees a Yuni, tired and downtrodden and so lonely it aches, even when she's standing in the middle of a room full of people all arguing and laughing and screaming over anything she has to say, with Reborn hovering by her side and constantly crushing her spirit over and over because the Vongola doesn't need a boss with opinions of her own, who won't lead the Family the way they think it should be led.

He sees Byakuran too, tiny and too-young and too-old at the same time, never putting down roots anywhere for fear of growing attached, just as tired and just as lonely, with Guardians who spurn him and an underworld that regards him as something not even quite human anymore and so avoid him just as much as he avoids them.

And he sees the mafia, a cesspit of violence and betrayal and murder, entrenched in crime and greed and hatred, never changing, never wanting to change, generation after generation of blood-drenched sins.

Tsuna sees it all and thinks, I could do better.

Because unlike Byakuran who wanted power enough to reshape the world into something that would interest him, or even Yuni who was taught to preserve the greater good, Tsuna deals in kindness. He looks at the mafia with more than a little disgust, and if he wants to change it, he needs the power of the Tri-Ni-Sette to make the world his own.

But people and emotions are what he understands best, so that's what he uses. Because when he sees his universe's Byakuran and Yuni, the other pillars of the Tri-Ni-Sette, he doesn't see obstacles or enemies or even weaknesses. He sees them for their strengths, for the Sky Flames that burn so fiercely in both of them, power enough to rival his own, but also too, he sees what they desperately want - someone to understand them, someone to fight for them, someone that would belong to them, and someone whom they might belong to in return because their Sky Flames reach out and grasp nothing, because the Flame potentials around them are piss-poor replacements for real bonds, scattered and too self-absorbed and largely unsuitable for two of the world's most powerful Skies.

But Tsuna. Tsuna is lonely too, in his own way, his head filled with too many possibilities, of pasts and presents and futures that might never be. He's seen enough to know that Yuni and Byakuran are his, because they are three parts of a whole, and he refuses to live in a world where the three of them are treated like puppets in a show, each playing a part like there's no other choice.

Byakuran failed because he was alone, is the conclusion Tsuna comes to. But he won't make the same mistake, because he deals in kindness, and so he gives them what they want.

He bumps into Yuni one day when she's exhausted and filthy from a training session that was more a beating than anything educational because the seal still has its claws in her and she didn't spar to Reborn's standards today. Sasagawa's run off somewhere to be extreme, Lambo's at home with her mother, and Gokudera and Yamamoto are probably still duking it out several blocks back. Reborn's ordered her to return home before seven or she would have an extra three sets of suicides tomorrow morning, but Yuni can't even stand without her leg muscles spasming.

And then Tsuna is there, asking if she's alright, helping her to a bench and running to get her some water and a snack. He doesn't push about why she's in such a state, only introducing himself and sitting with her while she recovers and walking her home to make sure she gets there alright. They part ways, and somehow, Yuni misses him already. She thinks it's because it's the first time in her life that someone just sat with her and engaged her in normal conversation and cared about her, even if it was just basic human decency (and it says a lot about her life that she hasn't even experienced that much until now). She's dismayed that she didn't even ask for his number or at least where he goes to school, but that might be a step too far into creepy. She's forced to put him out of her mind when she steps into the house and almost gets nailed with one of Lambo's grenades, who's pitching a fit because Reborn promised him that Yuni would buy him grape candy. Bianchi sweeps past her with a disdainful sniff as she proceeds to fawn over Reborn, and she finds Yamamoto and Gokudera already parked in her house, Gokudera immediately heaping praise on her for completing that day's training ("As expected of Jyuudaime!") before rounding on Yamamoto again when the other boy makes a flippant comment.

The day ends with bruises and broken windows and more than one disparaging sigh from Reborn about how Dame-Yuni couldn't even control her own subordinates, and for just a moment, lying in bed and comparing her Family to the way Tsuna wrapped her sprained wrist earlier with such gentle hands, Yuni hates every last one of them with a visceral intensity that threatens to burst out of her and leap for the closest throat.

Then she turns over and tries not to think at all, because she has to get up early tomorrow or she'll end up with first-degree burns from Reborn's wake-up call.

She doesn't expect to see Tsuna again but...

But she does. Apparently, Tsuna attends the private high school across town, and he swings by her area again just to make sure she's okay. Yuni finds it sweet, and she's simultaneously pleased and guilty for feeling pleased that Tsuna only pays attention to her, doesn't let Gokudera's offensive posturing get to him, doesn't even glance at Haru's blushing and cow eyes. Tsuna seeks her out a few more times before Yuni timidly asks for his phone number ("Um, just to keep in touch so you won't have to run all the way here all the time!"), beaming when Tsuna smiles and enters it into her phone.

Reborn watches the boy with narrowed eyes, and Yuni knows he's probably running multiple background checks on her new friend, but apparently Tsuna passes muster because the hitman only remarks, "Well, you'll need to learn how to charm powerful men one day, Dame-Yuni. You can practice seducing a civilian first."

Even as she turns red, Yuni hates him for that implication alone, because Tsuna doesn't deserve to be relegated to some tool for her to "practice" on. She says nothing of course, because arguing with Reborn is an exercise in futility, and she's just glad she can hang out with Tsuna without dragging him into mafia business. All her Guardian slots are filled, and at least for now, Reborn seems content with her lineup without adding more to it.

Meanwhile, Byakuran arrives in Namimori. He doesn't have the Vongola's famed Intuition of course, but sometimes his Sky Flames do give him a nudge, and even rarer sometimes, he listens just to sate his vague sense of curiosity. This is one of those times. Besides, he knows Reborn is training the next Vongola Decima here, and irritating reborn is always fun. The hitman's good but he's never been able to lay a finger on Byakuran, partly because no matter how reluctant, the Sun still belongs to Byakuran's Sky even if the connection is thread-thin, and partly because Byakuran is just better.

So he enters Namimori and goes about getting himself acquainted with the town. He's never been here before, and he's delighted to find a very delicious sweets cafe with quite a few selections of marshmallow confectioneries.

Tsuna already knows he's there. He lets himself be seen at one of the outdoor tables of the cafe and doesn't bother hiding what he is because there's no hiding from a fellow Tri-Ni-Sette Sky when they know what they're looking at, and Byakuran definitely knows. There's a moment of indecision when Byakuran looks like he might leave, but then an easy smirk curves across his baby face, and he makes his way over to Tsuna's table instead.

"Now this is a surprise," Byakuran says once he's hopped up onto the table. "I didn't expect to find the Mare Sky in Namimori."

Tsuna smiles back guilelessly. "And I didn't expect to meet the Arcobaleno Sky so I guess we're even." He shrugs. "I go to school here so it's not so weird."

They stare at each other for a minute, and Byakuran's gaze is particularly piercing despite being set in the face of a toddler, but Tsuna is arguably just as old if not older, with all the timelines running through his head, and so he doesn't let his own gaze waver even as he digs into his cake.

They get to talking. Byakuran's not even aware of how late it's gotten until the waiters are clearing their throats nearby and the sun is almost completely set. The two of them exchanged a few more lines of pleasantry before Tsuna asked about his travels, "because I want to see the world one day too of course!", and before he knew it, Byakuran's described Venice and Rome and parts of Singapore and Australia. He doesn't say anything incriminating, mostly detailing the sights and some of the culture, but he also relaxes and enjoys himself for the first time in years, and - after they say goodbye and go their separate ways and Tsuna waves and tells him he enjoyed spending the afternoon with him, with an honesty that couldn't be faked - Byakuran is the first person who looks at Tsuna and thinks, this boy is dangerous.

(That doesn't stop him from seeking Tsuna out again and again, and much later, looking back, he'll think with some amusement that he was never going to end up anywhere but at Tsuna's side. He’d already lost - for a certain measure of losing - from the moment they first met.)

They meet up a few more times, and then one day, Tsuna brings Yuni along. They're on a "date" - not really, but Yamamoto laughed and Gokudera frothed at the mouth, and Reborn smirked and ordered her to practice her "feminine wiles", so here they are, taking a seat at her favourite dessert shop in town. It isn't a coincidence at all that Byakuran is also there, and Yuni feels something inside her slot into place the moment she not only lays eyes on Byakuran but also sees him drop comfortably onto Tsuna's shoulder like he belongs there. Like the two of them belong together. And like they belong here with her.

She doesn't understand it of course, and she doesn't know enough to ask. Introductions are made, and Yuni is shy at first, and more than a little wary because Byakuran's clearly a not-baby like Reborn. But Byakuran talks to her instead of at her, he doesn't wave weapons at her or inexplicably drag her into a mafia problem, and he has a sly sense of humour that makes her laugh. She's suddenly very aware that Tsuna apparently is mafia after all, or at least related in some way, but he's never lied to her about it, never said he wasn't, and in the end, Yuni decides to just accept it and enjoy what little freedom she's managed to find with both of them here.

By the time they get up to go their separate ways again, Byakuran's fox smiles reach all the way to his eyes, Yuni's slightly out of breath because she chatters more when she's happy and unafraid, and Tsuna watches them both with possessive eyes, wondering if it's about time to enact the next part of his plan.

FUTURE ARC HERE WE COME

The ten-year bazooka catches first Yuni and then Byakuran, and an assortment of their respective guardians/friends in-between. They're transported to a ten-year-later alternate universe where Vongola and its allies - including the Arcobaleno - are fighting against Tsuna and the Gesso and his allies.

(This is an alternate universe where Yuni and Byakuran never really met Tsuna under any circumstances but as enemies. This is an alternate universe where Byakuran cares for nothing and no one but himself, and Yuni broke under the weight of Vongola's expectations. This is an alternate universe where Tsuna is alone.)

Yuni is horrified. She doesn't know how or why even a parallel older version of herself would declare all-out war on a friend, or vice-versa. She doesn't know what brought them to this point. If she's honest, she doesn't even know what she's supposed to be fighting for, and nobody seems to be able to give her a good enough reason, because - before they're replaced by their younger alternate selves - her parallel older version Guardians tell her that they're fighting for Vongola's survival, that the Gesso Decimo is threatening their existence, that he wants to wipe out the mafia entirely and them with it, and even if she doesn't say, Yuni wonders why she's fighting against someone with goals like that at all.

Reborn - when he's transported forward and sideways as well - is grimly furious and that much harder on Yuni. Yuni suspects it's less because of their apocalyptic surroundings and more because he's met Tsuna and never realized the boy was mafia, and an heir to boot, even if it's of a small famiglia. The number one hitman doesn't like being bested.

Likewise, her friends are rowdy and eager in turn, as soon as they're told who the enemy is, there's arguments about when to attack and how to attack, but no one actually questions if they should attack. Yuni tries once to ask why Tsuna would do this, what pushed him to this point, but her voice is swallowed by a deluge of "I told you so"s, half of them vindicated that Tsuna's turned out to be a bad guy, the other half just determined to "defeat" him.

Yuni wonders if they realize defeat means kill, because not a single one of them save perhaps Gokudera has taken a life before.

Byakuran is also there, much to everyone's consternation because most haven't met him and the few Arcobaleno who have also been time-travelled are visibly uncomfortable with Byakuran in the room. But he's a silent shadow on her shoulder, and somehow, he makes everything bearable. They don't know each other quite as well as they both know Tsuna - their Tsuna - but they gravitate towards each other naturally, and the first time Reborn fires a bullet at her that would've left a sizeable bruise on her forehead, Byakuran's Sky Flames surge up like a tidal wave and crashes down on the room's occupants with the same kind of merciless crushing force, sending all but Yuni to their knees. For once, the Sky Arcobaleno does not smirk or smile or even make light of the situation. His gaze is cold on his pseudo-Sun, and he tells Reborn in cool uncompromising tones, "I would take care if I were you, Sun Arcobaleno Reborn. You are no longer the most powerful individual here. Show some respect to your betters."

And then he nudges Yuni's cheek, and Yuni only hesitates a moment (staring at these strangers who don't care about her, not really, who only care about what she can give them, who put her on a pedestal and ignore her just as easily when it suits them), and without a word, she turns and walks away.

They don't leave that night, not yet. Yuni doesn't know where to go, and Byakuran seems reluctant to leave her. This is a Tsuna, but it's not a Tsuna they know, so it would probably be unwise to simply stride right up to the Gesso's front door and ask to speak to him.

Several frankly ridiculous battles later and they meet Irie Shouichi who's Gesso but a spy, one of Vongola's but not one of Yuni's (because once a traitor, always a traitor, and who says he won't turn on her one day), who tells them about Tsuna's strongest, the Funeral Wreathes, and the best ways to breach their defences and defeat them, a bunch of information he managed to hack and swipe before cutting his ties once and for all. They manage to blow up one of the Gesso's main bases using the information, and everyone cheers and celebrates like those weren't people they literally flattened by moving walls together like some scientist's twisted obstacle course for rats.

(Byakuran's expression darkens steadily the longer they're in the others' company. Yuni thinks he doesn't really care about the lives lost, but he cares that she cares, and also because each and every battle they've been in against Tsuna's subordinates, they held back.

One man was particularly memorable, "What the fuck? Why the fuck are there children in here?"

And from that point on, to a man, the worse the Gesso did was knock them out before retreating themselves, and Vongola paid them back by crushing them.

Yuni wonders if this was her alternate self's plan all along - not just because they have the extra boost that the Vongola rings provide, but also the fact that she knew Tsuna's people don't kill children, and so what better way to win than to send children into battle against them.)

The final straw is when they finally come face to face with Tsuna.

Because this Tsuna is different. He still looks about the same, older of course, but recognizable enough. There are lines on his face that makes him look even older than he is though, stress lines more than age, while his eyes - hard and dark - survey them with a cold sort of disgust, and he doesn't just have his Funeral Wreathes behind him.

Near the very back stands Mukuro with Chrome beside him and Ken and Chikusa behind them, and Yuni definitely wondered where her sort of Mists were because all her other Guardians were switched. But all anybody would tell her was that Mukuro disappeared a while ago but it was fine, he was never quite part of Vongola, certainly never trusted, kept on the fringes so he wouldn’t be a real threat, still technically in Vendicare because even after a decade he was never freed.

He's free now though, Yuni can sense that much, and he smirks at them all, straight-backed and proud and lacking the clouded feral hatred that used to sit around his neck like a physical noose. The distaste is still there, but he - and Chrome - look more at home behind Tsuna than they ever did around Yuni's people.

What makes Byakuran's breath catch though is someone else entirely. On the far left in a familiar cloak and hovering half a foot in the air is a fully adult Viper, and Yuni did wonder when they met up with the Varia why their illusionist had been replaced, but nobody asked so she didn't either. Viper's here though, facing them with their hood obscuring half their features but standing firm all the same despite the sneers they get from their former Varia colleagues.

Tsuna catches their eye, her and Byakuran's, and as if he can read their mind, he calls out mockingly in a way their version never has with them, "Didn't they tell you? I found a way to break the Curse. You'd think all the Arcobaleno would be jumping onboard just for that, but after your pet hitman-" He nods at a silent Reborn. "-tried to stab me in the back after he got the cure," Tsuna grins, half mad, all teeth. "I reverted him right back to toddler-hood. Bad behaviour shouldn't be rewarded after all." His gaze flickers to Irie, who immediately doubles over and starts clutching his stomach and groaning. "And I hate traitors."

The Varia gets tired of all the talking first and fires the first shot, and then it's just all-out war in the clearing after that, every Vongola-affiliated member throwing themselves into battle for a cause Yuni doesn't even believe in.

(Yuni can't even pretend to be surprised when - a few minutes later - Irie convulses, not anxiety this time but like he's having a seizure, before pretty-looking vines burst out of him and promptly choke him to death. When she finally manages to tear her eyes away from the macabre sight, the Gesso Cloud catches her gaze and half-bows in her direction before returning to Tsuna's side.)

Vongola wins, in the end, but not before Yuni thinks she understands why her Tsuna - their Tsuna - befriended her, befriended Byakuran. They're the Tri-Ni-Sette Skies, and they were never meant to be alone. Apart, they always fail, and this future alternate universe is the perfect example - Byakuran, lost and adrift and so resigned to his own death that he couldn't even trust a promise of freedom when Tsuna offered it; Yuni, moulded into everything she despised, a puppet boss parroting the ideals of a Vongola soaked in the corpses of innocents; and Tsuna, gone mad with the weight of all of time and space in his head and nothing to help him shoulder them, fighting to reshape the world but ultimately stonewalled by the very two people who were supposed to support him.

The Funeral Wreathes and the other Gesso members fall one by one, and with each death, Yuni thinks she can almost feel something in Tsuna shatter.

In the end, he attacks, discorded and feral, and Yuni cries as she slams a final X-Burner through his chest.

The celebrations that follow make her sick. Everyone's so happy, congratulating each other, congratulating her like she didn't just kill someone who was basically one of her soulmates, like she should be proud. She ends up going for long walks away from the base, snapping at anyone who tries to follow her, and perhaps it's because they've never seen her so adamant about anything but - for once - they obey. They probably put her mood down to making her first kill.

She takes Byakuran with her, partly because he's the only company she wants, partly because she's afraid she'll come back to a safehouse full of dead bodies if she leaves him alone for even five minutes with the others.

He's the only one who understands anyway. She has blood on her hands that she'll never be able to wash off. It doesn't matter that this wasn't their Tsuna; it was still a Tsuna and she killed him because she wasn't strong enough to tell the Vongola no.

"His death was a mercy," Byakuran tells her in subdued but resolute tones. "Discorded Skies never recover. If there was anything left of him at the end, he would've been grateful."

But that doesn't make anything better, and Byakuran knows it too if the way he lets her cuddle him is any judge.

"What's done is done," Byakuran says next. "What's important now is what we do next."

Because of course it's we now. Yuni and Byakuran. And Tsuna if they...

"Do you think he knew?" Yuni asks hollowly. "That I'd kill him?"

Byakuran's smiles mirthlessly. "He's Mare. I think he knew the kind of decision we would have to make after coming here."

This boy is dangerous, Byakuran once thought and now knows. In the present and the future, in their universe and this one, Tsuna gave them temptation. He showed them his ambitions, his goals, his promises, a way out from under Vongola's thumb for Yuni and a life finally free of the Curse for Byakuran. Most of all, he showed them how good they could be together and how much worse they were apart.

Join me and be free, is what Tsuna has been offering from the very beginning, and until today, Byakuran has never before met anyone who could be so kind and yet wield that kindness with such terrifyingly manipulative precision in the exact same breath.

In the end, they don't really have to discuss it. The answer is easy. Now they just have to wait.

When they finally get back to their universe, it only takes about a day for Yuni and Byakuran to pack a bag and slip away in the dead of night.

Somehow, even after everything, nobody suspects anything. Reborn isn't even around, busy reporting everything to the Nono.

Tsuna is waiting at the edge of town, leaning against a limo with Kikyo behind the wheel, Chrome and Ken and Chikusa already in the back. He doesn’t look at all surprised when he sees them, eyes glittering with triumph, but he smiles too, warm and easy and welcoming as always, and there is no regret as Byakuran and Yuni follow him into the car and away from the shackles that the mafia dared try to place on them.

World domination isn't ever going to be easy. But in this one universe, the Tri-Ni-Sette Skies found each other, and they are going to be unstoppable.

#khr #sawada tsunayoshi #yuni #byakuran #1002701 #headcanon #let's take over the world with kindness verse #myscrap

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postimalone · 4 years

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I tried my hand at writing erotica, its non fiction based on my daily life. Tried to keep it as gender non specific as I could.

r/Ruiasoftporn

mom says, always brush your teeth in the morning:

I have read about liminal spaces. The waiting rooms between the Then and Now. The connection between what was and what will be. This Dadar railway skywalk in the cold morning feels like one. I relish cold mornings in Mumbai. I relish anything cold in Mumbai. We don’t get a lot of cold here.

In movies, they always show liminal spaces empty. Like it’s your own personal moment . Lonely . But I don’t feel lonely here. Maybe before you, maybe before us. There is a floating anticipation in this chilly air. This space is my waiting room for now, till you come. Till I see you. Waving at me, on this bridge lightly shaking from the footfalls. Lightly shaking like me.

You arrive with a smile on your lips and sleep in your eyes. You hug me good morning and I hold you still. I’m listening to my favourite song and the saxophone trill is perfect for this moment. I push a earphone in your ear and kiss you tight. It takes you a moment to register, but you pick up quickly. You pick me up quickly, and push open our mouths. Tongue on tongue at this time of the day is almost taboo but we are far from our beds and freshly brushed and bathed to start the day. Brushed mouths and fresh bodies roiling against each other.Your hands in my hair, my hands on your back. And now you aren’t sleepy anymore , rather energetic. I’m pushed against the thick metal railings, their wet cold seeping through my t-shirt. But I don’t want this kiss to end, we can go on for longer and this bridge is empty.

Also I really like the cold.

********

Nipples aren’t weed, they don’t need to be rolled like a joint everytime :

I’m in college now. I travel halfway across the city every morning to earn my degree. I will insert a line here now that my friends wouldn’t catch me dead uttering. Ruia isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. It’s a small world here, but it’s foreign. A quaint building nested in a quiet neighbourhood. But I’m standing in it’s epicentre and I can almost feel it engulfing me. It’s small, but it’s huge. It’s a fish tank sitting in the dentist’s reception area. I feel like Nemo.

I do get carried away with these thoughts once in while. I get carried away a lot, mostly by you. The Quadrangle is a strange place. It’s not square at all. It’s shape is a quarrel for another day, because right now you are staring into my eyes. I hope the midday sun is doing me some favour hitting the right angles of my face. After all, I don’t get your attention like this in public all the time. I straighten up in an attempt to make my boobs conspicuous. You laugh. “ You’ve got really bad posture, you’re going to get a hunched back someday”, you say.

Apparently the next lecture is cancelled, it was 50/50 anyway. The professor is running errands for the Principal, couldn’t be helped. We have half an hour more, to while away. We both got dragged by our friends towards the stage at one end of this open yard. The Quadrangle is bustling with people and there is no other place to sit. I sit on the edge of the stage with my legs hanging over the edge. You sit cross-legged, behind me. I lean back into you and my ill-postured back finds comfort in this position. There are my friends on one side and yours on the other. My idiots couldn’t find a place and are standing on the ground in front of me. I put my bag on my lap, there is really no place here.

You are so busy talking to your friends, and my friends are busy talking amongst themselves. I might almost drift off to sleep. Your voice reverberates from your chest and I close my eyes in peace… until I feel your hand snaking under my arm.

My eyes are wide open now. The hand has progressed to the boob now. I regret having pads in my bra now. Suddenly I am eerily aware of the number of people here. It’s bustling with people. My eyes dart all over the place, is anyone watching? My breath hitches, and my heart beats faster. I half turn to look at you questioningly. What are you doing? Why does it feel so good?

You are immersed in talking with your friends, who are dangerously close to us. Too close for comfort. I try to sit up, but you hold me steady in place against you. I look at you, you smile at me. The sun is heating up the air, but that’s not why I am sweating.

You leisurely stroke my boob in rhythm with your talk. As natural as say, ruffling someone’s hair or swinging hands in hand. My toes curl inside my Converse. I look anywhere and everywhere except your face. I almost scream when the other hand lands on my other neglected tit. An audible “Oh shit” escapes my lips. The friend who was talking to you turns to me. He agrees, the tv show he was talking about had an unexpected main character death.

Now I have to focus on her and control myself. But your relentless ministrations won’t stop. My size doesn’t matter, you’re covering every inch. The gentle pressure is driving me crazy. I want to rip my bra off so you can find the nipple. But you find it even through the thick fabric, pressing on instead of rolling it with your fingers. I am losing my mind.

I am exposed here like this, naked amongst these people and your horny self. The strokes go back and forth from my tits to my back and everything in between. How hasn’t anyone noticed? My legs shiver from all of this madness. I slowly arch into the cup of your fingers, and my feet hanging of the stage lift on their own accord. I am no longer in control.

And I accidently kick my friend standing in front. Fast as lightning, I sit up straight and apologize. And that’s when I realize someone has unpinned my bra.

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

Its considered rude in Japanese culture to not slurp your noodles:

The canteen is a funny place. It isn’t enough of a place, there needs to be more of it. There aren’t many tables inside and we always need to fight for a table to sit. Especially now, in monsoon every inch of the area that is not covered by a warm butt is cold and soppy wet. So the actual lunch tables are much coveted. Today’s star is me. I coaxed a group of people I knew to give up their seats to me. Hence, today everyone loves me.

Our seat is near a window, I am opposite to it. I have a good view outside. The canteen windows are funny too, they overlook the quadrangle and people can look directly into your plate. Marketing gimmick.

I feel like eating oily noodles today. So I lose my new and crisp 100/- note today. Pity. I am slurping away when I hear your voice. I look up. You’re on the other side of the window looking directly into my plate. And then your gaze shifts to me.

The food is stuck in my throat. I take a fitful sip of water. I wave a ‘Hi’ at you. You wave back but don’t answer after that. You’re talking to someone on the phone. And that would be okay with me if you weren’t staring at me so much. I can’t question you, I can’t scold you. I can only look away. I am playing with my food now. I can’t eat. You make me so horridly uncomfortable in all the right ways.

But two can play this game. I start with the fork and lick it’s prongs. I smack my lips and run my tongue over them. I twirl my fork to heap noodles on it and caress the handheld end. I shove the glob of noodles in my mouth and lick the fork clean. I then proceed to moan like a kitten.

In any other circumstance I would be ashamed of myself, but this you totally deserve. You look visibly shaken. I see you gulping air, swallowing nothing. Your neck. “ I’d like to lick it someday” I think. Now I am getting distracted by the possibilities.

You end your phone call and half a minute later I get a text.

--you’re coming home with me today.

Welp, looks like I might get to experiment today.

“hey, Hey!” my friend sitting beside me calls me.

“what?”

“tell me what you ordered looks like it was really good, I’ll have a plate too”.

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

Sometimes its better to bathe with Holy Spirit instead of Dettol after getting drenched in the rain:

Its really pouring cats and dogs today. We might get sent home early. We get phenomenal rains like these once every year in Mumbai. And Ruia lies in a low lying zone. Meaning water pools here like crazy. Just getting to college drenched me completely. The wind broke my umbrella. We all were sitting half soaked, waiting for lecture to begin. And again they got cancelled. But we still had lab work.

Me and my group of friends decided to go on the building terrace. It would be slipping wet, but we were soaked anyway. It was all empty and flooded. We dragged the tyre-cum-chaises and sat on them. It was lightly drizzling now.I looked around.

I really loved the terrace. It wasn’t too big and it wasn’t too small. It was the perfect size to hang out in. And from here, you could see the Matunga skyline. A weird mixture of really tiny, two-storeyed residential complexes and huge high-rising sky-scrapers. The clouds were rolling overhead. They looked so pregnant, their water ready to break at any moment. I loved being here, even if I was chattering from the ice-cold wind.

I text you, to come here. I need you to come here. You reply back a negative. You’re busy with your own labwork at the moment. This won’t do.

‘I am soaking wet from the rain and I’m so so cold’ I text back, attaching a selfie, as risqué as I can manage to get with people around.

I get a reply back.

‘give me 15 minutes’

Everyone else decides to leave. The labwork is simply not worth drowning for, we decide. Almost the entire college is emptying. I tell my friends I’m leaving with you. I wait inside until they leave and go back on the terrace waiting under the roof of the entrance. Out of the two entrances one is locked to prevent flooding. I am shivering.

I hear the elevator door open and close. I attack your form furiously kissing you,pulling you into the terrace area. Thank God you’re alone.

‘Whoa,you’re wet!’you say.

“And not how I’d like to be” I reply.

You take that as a challenge. My bra is unpinned under my shirt yet again. You’re getting irritatingly good at this. I back you up against the wall next to the entrance, just out of range for any pair of wayward eyes. Not that it mattered, we were literally out in the open.

‘You are so worked up today” you whisper in my ear.

‘Mhmmhm’ is all I can manage while peppering kisses on your neck. My hands are all over your chest and fumbling at your waist. Your hands are splayed across my back rubbing sensationally, sending delicious electricity down my spine.

You bring your hands around my waist to slip inside my shirt and under my bra. I exhale. My hands are in your hair now, I can barely do a thing. I am shivering, but not from the rain.

‘Looks like you need this way more badly than I originally thought ,we need a quick fix’ you say.

I bite your ear.

You look around and suddenly your eyes brighten. You lead me to a corner section of the terrace, where remnant beams of the building structure protrude outwards. They look like concrete tables. They are the perfect height to rest your elbows but a little difficult to climb and sit on.

But you straight up hoist me onto one, and pull down my pants. Track pants were a wonderful decision.

I gasped. I am soaking wet and now half naked, well almost, the pants pool at my feet. Your hands are under my thighs,over my calves racing across to my sex. Your fingers find me first, and I pull in your face for a kiss. I have crossed all my boundaries today. Your fingers come back slick, I blame the rain.

Pleasing me is difficult. Both your hands are at work. One rubbing circles on my clit, the other pumping finger after finger into my vagina. I my legs start to shake, my stomach starts to quake.

Every breath is inching me closer to glorious death. Le petit mort. I moan. Out loud.

The rain has gone from a drizzle to a raging storm. All that cold water on us, and I’m on fire.

You push away from my face only to bring yours on my sex. Your first lick on my clitoris sends me shaking into spasms. I can no longer sit upright, I lean over the surface, splayed out like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Your tongue finds rhythm with your fingers. Pumping me, sucking me, pulling me closer and closer to you, until I can bear it no longer. With a scratch of your finger and flick of your tongue, I convulse into climax.

A bone-shaking, muscle-quivering, petit mort.

I cannot move. You help me into my pants and steady me inside the building, out of the terrace plot. Everybody is going home. We get our bags and reach the exit of college too. We leave and walk together. You notice I don’t turn towards my usual way.

‘You’re home is that way’ you turn to me and say.

‘I’m coming with you today, I have to finish what you started’ I whisper.

*******

#mumbai #lgbtq #nogender #romance #smut fic #mature fic #explict

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makorays · 5 years

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A List of Short Bios for a Bunch of OCs so People Actually Know What I’m Talking About Whenever I Mention Them on Streams or Whatever

These are all from the Savage Worlds tabletop campaign known as The Initiative that my friends and I play. It is a modern day sci-fi story involving aliens and cosmic horror cults. The basic premise is that some very important Scellor tech was stolen and found its way to Earth, and the Scellor government contacted Earth’s government to warn them they will have to wipe out their planet if the tech isn’t recovered in time. Thus an initiative was formed consisting of renowned Earth military figures as well as Scellor volunteers to try and locate it.

The Scellor are a race of aliens originally created by a man by the name of Jukashi for tgchan. Joe discovered them and decided to write a tabletop story in that universe. He may have taken a couple artistic liberties here and there for the sake of better fitting things into his own story. Scellor are green psychic aliens with a whole bunch of neat traits I won’t go into but you can read about them here if you want: https://questden.org/wiki/Scellor

Onto the actual bios:

Sofie Edelstein

The commander of The Initiative. Over a century ago, her father revealed to her and her two sisters (Teri and Tara) that he was the head of an “angel”-worshipping cult known as Erleuchten. When Teri and Tara showed hesitance in joining it, her father killed them. Sofie joined, but plotted to sabotage the cult from the inside. Some time later she became a preserved brain, got digitized, and obtained a robotic body. Now she’s a 6′ tall 400 pound robot with advanced combat capabilities. She created a series of androids with artificial intelligence based after her late sister Tara, but none have gained sentience. Was the leader of Poland’s military as a day job. She was working for The Initiative from the inside as an Erleuchten leader, but got found out and now lives with us. She’s done a hell of a lot of sleeping around through all her years, but eventually decided to get into a long-term relationship when she met Stan.

Minyaxl

My OC. Minyaxl is a Scellor combat medic with renowned psionic healing abilities who decided to volunteer and help out the humans, partially out of kindness and partially to have a chance to demonstrate his abilities to a less advanced race. He started out as this 5′0″ little bitch who was super full of himself but his confidence has been beaten into the dirt on numerous occasions; most notably when he realized that humans, unlike Scellor, do not reincarnate after death, meaning he’s been sentencing people to oblivion during every combat mission. He’s since become desperately obsessed with saving as many lives of sentient, non-reincarnating beings like humans as possible, even if it means jeopardizing operations. He routinely finds himself at odds with his squadmates, particularly Valerie, due to their perceived lack of interest in non-lethal solutions to problems. He is the closest Scellor can get to typical human romance with Thael.

Katherine Dawson

Cey’s OC. Katie is a combat medic who was taken as a POW by a terrorist group and later forcibly enlisted into The Initiative for her abilities. She’s sort of the mom of the group. Everyone else in arbiter squad has some form of extra-ness to them and she’s the straight-woman who holds them together. She has a knack for bossing around idiots due to her upbringing with rambunctious siblings in a Japanese-American household. Dual wields pistols and does not take shit from people. Is girlfriends with Teri.

Johannes B. Otto

Kyle’s OC. It's sometimes easy to mistake Johannes for a confused German tourist. During quiet hours, he spends his time complaining about No Smoking signs and combining multiple quarter-pound patties into single full-pound burgers. But get in his way and you'll find that he's less "tired, goofy dad" and more "towering, ruthless brute". Withhold information during an interrogation, and he'll start calmly searching for a pair of pliers. Try to hurt him or his squadmates, and he'll shut you in a storage locker with a live grenade and then feel zero remorse for the gory soup that spills out (a tactic that has since been affectionately referred to as the "Deutsche Oven"). It should also be noted that Johannes is not a patient man. If we’re ever at a standstill with deciding how to proceed, he’ll start jumping a fence to go beat the shit out of a guard before taking all his clothes and spanking him until his ass is red.

Valerie Mimieux

Ragu’s OC. Valerie is a woman of class. She’s a French spy who likes expensive things and is passionate about cooking. She has a habit of flying way off the fucking handle and doing some reckless impulsive shit or just generally acting like a psycho. Will sometimes single out a particular enemy that did something to piss her off and then beat the hell out of their corpse long after they’re dead. She has raced Yakuza gang leaders for the right to win their car and then nonchalantly gunned them down when they decided to get revenge. She somehow manages to slither her way into acquiring ludicrous amounts of currency during her operations, and wants to one day take over all of Europe. Has a pet german shephard named Steve who used to be a guard dog for the enemy until she offered him a treat. She is alien-gay for Adiira.

Fayaiy

Selena’s OC. Fayaiy is a bounty hunter who crash landed on Earth and temporarily joined the cause before disappearing off to who knows where. She’s super goofy and sort of comes off as a happy-go-lucky foreigner who doesn’t entirely grasp English but loves to vibe with everyone regardless. LOVES Family Guy, thinks it’s the funniest thing ever. On multiple occasions she got faced on weed in the men’s bathroom with Stan, who I’m pretty sure still assumes she’s a trans guy because she didn’t seem to understand human gender symbols on doors. Has a pet black cat named Peanut who she took with her when she left.

Teri Grimm

A state of the art android who is so human-like you wouldn’t even know her body’s innards were synthetic unless you looked at them under a microscope. The commander’s first creation to gain sentience, and The Initiative’s token robot hacker waifu. Everybody loves Teri. She’s polite, incredibly intelligent, and has a face you just really want to protect, although she can hold her own in battles with superhuman strength. She’s rather unlucky though. Is girlfriends with Katie.

We’re actually currently playing a reboot of The Initiative. The first go around happened a few years ago, didn’t last as long, and featured the following five characters as our player characters. They did not function very well as main characters but work quite well this time around as quirky side characters.

Stan Ward

Ragu’s old OC. Stan is one of the most extra people to ever exist, roughly tied with only Bruce and Vulohon. A true American, he’s a mad bastard of a soldier who loves drugs and driving, often at the same time. Once, several members of The Initiative went out to town to relax and have fun, and he almost immediately got into trouble with the police, being chased off into the night. He came back later after swimming his way back to the base, crabs stuck to various parts of his soaking body with their pinched claws. Was somehow man enough to satisfy a 6 foot tall 400 pound 160+ year old android’s sexual desires to the point that he became her boyfriend.

Bruce Reistill

Kyle’s old OC. Bruce is an abrasive asshole who will never ever let a villain get more than 5 words into their monologue before interrupting them with something along the lines of “now y’see here I think the problem we’re having is that you keep on talking when you really shouldn’t be so I think it’d really be in all of our best interests if I were to just go ahead and...” before drawing his revolver that he nicknamed Banger.

Vulohon

The old OC of Roll, our long lost friend who just sorta disappeared to do his own thing in life. Vulohon is a fucking dumbass. He’s basically if Knuckles from Sonic Boom was an edgy anime himbo. The first time we saw him, he was doing the cool guy thing where you lean back in your chair and sharpen a blade. The second time we saw him, he was doing the same thing, but this time was sharpening a glock. The third time it was a trash can. He owns a legendary energy battle axe and can use psionic energy to generate explosions wherever he wants, but almost all of his fighting tactics involving picking up dudes and throwing them at other dudes. Either that or ripping off car doors and swinging them at people.

Stan, Bruce and Vulohon are all best bros. They moved their beds into the rec room and turned it into the Boys Room, where they sit in the hot tub together and behave heterosexually.

Thael

My old OC. Thael is a scientist who has no personality or emotions, but a really great ass. He’s a husk of a formerly optimistic young student who lost the ability to feel things after a shady government organization recruited him and forced him to conduct awful, sometimes murderous experiments on unwilling Scellor. Everyone is creeped out by him, but Minyaxl’s virgin horniness was enough to push past that as he felt love at first sight (with Thael’s back turned to him) and pursued relations with him. Thael opened up to him and Minyaxl decided to do his best to help him regain his former self. He’s getting there.

Pamiil

Selena’s old OC. Pamiil is an optimistic pacifist healer who never really got all that much screen time but she is cute and must be protected. She loves* Setel.

*by which i again mean the closest scellor equivalent to love which i guess is sorta just close friendship where you also fuck but they’re also capable of feeling proper love it’s just weird and can lead to psionic feedback loops if they’re not careful

(the following 5 pics were drawn by selena)

https://butamakingart.tumblr.com/

Orvon Valasma

The captain of the ship that a mysterious third party (referred to as the Scellor Freelancers, consisting of her, Adiira and Setel) arrived on. She’s 7 feet tall and has robotic legs that can extend to make herself even taller and run super fast. Somewhat stoic, and has gotten into fights with Adiira, but still cares deeply for her friends. The freelancers were originally at odds with The Initiative as they (somewhat rightfully) believed that we were doing a sloppy as hell job of things, but they eventually decided to join forces.

Adiira M’vora

A deadly assassin who, due to being born in the Ayaar caste, was forced to carry out political assassinations against people the Scellor government suspected of being potential state enemies. It got to her so she went rogue and is a bit of a wreck. She owns a legendary sword called Blue Midnight that can cut through the very fabric of space, and has various other psionic space manipulation abilities. She is human-gay for Valerie.

Setel Tunsai

An absolute chad of a man, standing at a towering 5′0″ (which is stupidly tall for his Orthan caste). Setel is a powerful psionic who excels at manipulating social outcomes, either through exceptional diplomacy or good old fashioned mind control. He has a talent for helping people with their emotional problems, and has acted as a therapist for people like Adiira and Thael. He is beloved by all. Is small lovefriend of Pamiil.

Korhan

Horrible. Piece of shit bitch bastard. Rightfully dead. Korhan used his position as an Ayaar operative as an excuse to live out all his sadistic fantasies. Worked in the evil-ass facility that used people like Thael to carry out their horrible experiments, and made implied rape threats to Thael if he thought about not doing his job. Responsible for everything that’s wrong with Djylana. Planted a tracking device on Minyaxl to find the location of The Initiative’s base, then came in and slaughtered innocent people for the fun of it before taking a bunch of hostages. He used them to try and make us hand over Adiira and Thael for betraying their government but we managed to clutch things out and put him in the dirt. Also he could stop time. Was basically Dio.

Djylana

Korhan’s partner in crime. A bloodthirsty animal he used to carry out much of his dirty work. After she was killed, while Korhan was lying on the ground just before Thael unloaded two magazines into him to finish him off, he said that she was his finest work, that we would never be able to truly stop her, that she would not rest until every single one of us was murdered. He had installed something called Echotech into her, allowing her soul to stay attached to her body after its death. She got up and started freaking out because her only “friend” had been killed, ready to kill us all, when MVP Fayaiy came in with the hug and helped us manage to convince her that Korhan was a piece of shit and we could be actual friends to her. She came around, like an abused guard dog finding a compassionate master, and now lives in the base as a decaying zombie. We convinced the commander to let her in despite her crimes and to also eventually make a robot body for her. She was unsure if she wanted to let us do that until someone brought up the fact that it would be the biggest middle finger we could possibly give to Korhan, at which point she vehemently agreed. I hope his piss stain of a soul somehow knows that his ace in the hole was defeated by the power of friendship.

Satan.

There are other characters that I may or may not include in the future, but those are the most prominent ones.

#the initiative #scellor

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fma245 · 6 years

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High & Low -Tvtropes

Copied from Tvtropes:

Back-to-Back Badasses: Considering this is an action series, way too many times to count. The first movie makes it interesting by having people from different teams have each other's back and quibble.

Berserk Button: Do NOT say the word "crab" around Kabuto. Don't even say anything that could be MISHEARD as crab.

Book Dumb: Pretty much everyone in Mugen and Sannoh Rengokai. Aoyagi: 8 times 1 is 8, 8 times 2 is 14, 8 times 3 is 23...

Combat Parkour: How the Rude Boys fight, and considering they're the only ones who know how to get through the slums they live in, it makes them a really hard target to hit.

Chick Magnet: Cobra Dan: Set up a date for you, me and Cobra. Tetz: But if Cobra comes, wouldn't all the girls go to him?

Choke Holds: Cobra uses them so much that it's where he got his nickname from.

City with No Name: The region is only referred to by the gangs that run it, S.W.O.R.D.

Damn, It Feels Good to Be a Gangster!: Mighty Warriors beat up and steal from others and they love it!

Destination Defenestration: Kohaku kicks Aoyagi out of a 2nd story office in the first movie.

Defeat Means Friendship: The series seems to run on this trope.

Dirty Cop: The only cop with a name in the show is, indeed, corrupt.

Doomed by Canon: The first half of season 2 focuses on how Mugen came to be and their eventual fall. Since you already know Mugen was pretty much wiped off the map, you know things don't end pretty. You also quickly realize that Tatsuya isn't seen anywhere in season 1.

Downer Ending: Season 1 in SPADES. Noboru's turned around, finally back with his Childhood Friends again. He's willing to go down the straight and narrow. But right during his Friendship Speech he's hit by a car, and the episode ends with no clue to his condition. Thankfully it's followed up in season two. End of Sky wrecks you when The Stinger shows Hiroto Amamiya getting show before immediately fading to black.

Dude, Where's My Bike?: Masaki Amamiya got his bike towed in the first movie, to hilarious effect.

Dumb Muscle: Sannoh Rengokai S1 Opening Narration:Sannoh Rengokai. They all grew up under the same circumstances, in the same town. All had a bad upbringing, and don't have much smarts either. But no one matches their strength during a fight.

Elevator Action Sequence: Chiharu manages to trick a member of Daruma Ikka into pushing his teammates into an elevator. He then proceeds to kick stomp them and send them to another floor.

Excuse Me While I Multitask: Hiroto beats up a half dozen guys, while on his phone, trying to order from the vending machine.

Family of Choice: Rude Boys is a gang made up of those left parent-less by either death or abandonment. They protect each-other and consider themselves a big family.

A Friend in Need: The reason that former Mugen members Cobra and Yamato made Sannoh Rengokai was so that their Childhood Friend, Noboru, could have a place to come back to. Despite Noboru almost killing Yamato and Chiharu in the finalie, Yamato and Cobra still try to convince him that they're still friends and to come back. Thankfully they were able to bring Noboru back to their side. This is also why Yamato helps Chiharu, even though he knows it could cause a huge ripple in SWORD as members are not supposed to switch gangs. And thanks to Yamato's desire to help Chiharu, the rest of Sannoh Rengokai comes in to save them as well. In the first movie, Cobra, Yamato and Aoyagi all come together to bring Kohaku back from his Heel–Face Turn - knowing that he's suffering like this because of Tatsuya's death.

Gang of Hats: Each of the gangs in High&Low have a very specific aesthetic. They often take the tropes associated with their groups and turn them Up to Eleven. Sannoh Rengokai: Greaser Delinquents White Rascals: Man in White Oya High: School of Hard Knocks Rude Boys: Le Parkour Daruma Ikka: Thug Dojo Kuryu Group: Yakuza Mighty Warriors: Gang Bangers Doubt: Evil Wears Black Strawberry Milk: Female Japanese Delinquents Mugen: All Bikers Are Hells Angels Amamiya Brothers: Badass Biker Sibling Team

Gangsta Rap: Discovering Wu-Tang Clan's music was what saved Ice as a kid, and it's an obvious influence on how he build up the Mighty Warriors.

Guyliner: Murayama Kizzy, with nailpolish, foundaiton, and lipgloss Hirai from Doubt, with black nailpolish

Gratuitous English: EVERYWHERE. Most of the graffiti in SWORD is all in English. Tons of characters drop random words in English - notably Rocky's catchphrase 'Party Time', and Ice with his catchphrase 'Change or Die', among other phrases. The characters who's actors speak English are much more likely to drop gratuitous English.

Gratuitous Foreign Language: Li, a Korean gangster, has some conversations in Korean in the first movie. It does help that he's played by a Korean singer.

Gold Tooth: Rocky wears silver grills.

Held Back in School: Almost all of Oya High is composed of 20 year olds - because they all intentionally held themselves back so they could stay within the gang. Chiharu Yamato, serving Chiharu a drink: Drink! Oh, wait, you can't drink yet can you? Chiharu: I'm 20. A lot of things happened and I got held back and... Tetz: Wait, you're a real idiot!!!

Improvised Armour: Masaki and Kohaku wrap chains around their limbs in order to fend off a katana wielding opponent.

Improvised Weapon: Too many times to count. Some of the times that are not covered by the tropes below include trash cans, taiko drumsticks, fire extinguishers, motorcycles and a shopping cart. Batter Up! Boulder Bludgeon Cane Fu Car Fu Chain Pain Chairman of the Brawl Clothing Combat Flipping the Table Grievous Bottley Harm Kill It with Fire: Huuga attacked members of the Kuryu with a stick on fire Pipe Pain Wrench Whack

Incurable Cough of Death: It's not specified what Smokey's suffering from, but he's definitely not doing well considering he continues to cough up blood after hard fights.

The Lad-ette: Strawberry Milk is full of rude speaking, bike riding women. However it seems to be a bit of a facade, considering that some of the girls like Junko are a bit girly, but they keep up their Ladette attitude. Junko, much to her dismay, scared off a guy hitting on her by going TOO ladette on him.

Manly Tears: Yamato, Cobra and Noboru all cry in the season 1 finale when they all try to reconcile. In the first movie, Yamato and Cobra cry when trying to convince Kohaku to stop his plan to destroy all the gangs.

Police are Useless: Stated outright in the first movie when the police were too busy stopping other disasters in the area to come and help the main characters.

Pre-Asskicking One-Liner: "It's party time" (Rocky)

Rule of Cool: Why does every gang have incredibly incredible, matching fashion sense? How do any of them pay for anything considering no gang (except the White Rascals and Mighty Warriors) seems to have any sort of income?

Shirtless Scene: Yamato gets a few when he's getting bandaged up after a fight.

Trauma Conga Line: This applies to way too many characters, but below is a standout case: The Amamiya Brothers: Their parents died in an apparent suicide, then the older brother goes off to who knows where, driving the younger two to search for him. When they finally reunite, the older brother ends up dying while revenging against their parents' deaths. Then in the End of Sky movie, Masaki watches Hiroto get shot in the chest by a sniper right before the movie ends.

Two-Teacher School: Oya High has exactly zero teachers. Not surprising, considering the students that attend...

Wife-Basher Basher: Don't you dare hurt your girl in the White Rascals' district, or you're liable for a beating - or worse.

Would Hit a Girl: DOUBT will do anything to get what they want. Up to and including abducting and abusing women. Murayama seemed interesting in fighting a girl who had a crush on him.

Wrestler in All of Us: Cobra manages a suplex in episode 1, but as an action series there are quite a few wrestling movies used on-screen.

#jdrama #high&low #exile #ldh

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k-llama-llama · 6 years

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Starstruck

Stray Kids AU: 10th member

Tori x Stray Kids

Tori and Zoey finally meet

A/N: ITS HAPPENING! EVERYONE STAY CALM

Requests are Open: Submit them to my ask box! I need them!

Tori stood next to Jeongin as she coached him through the moves. They were working on the choreo for a special stage, and Jeongin was having some trouble nailing the choreography.

The rest of the boys were taking a water break, spread out across the studio. The practice had been going on for hours, with only a short lunch break a while ago.

“Pull your arm straight into your chest, Jeonginnie. It has to go in time with the kick movement.”

“Like this.” He repeated the move, getting a lot closer to what it was supposed to be.

Tori nodded. “Almost there. Let’s take a break. You’ll get it in a bit.”

He nodded, looking a little dejected. She patted him on the shoulder and made her way over to her bag, right next to where Felix was sitting. She crouched down and took out her phone.

“Have some water.” Felix reminded her.

She nodded. “I will. I-”

She fell over on her butt, staring at her phone screen.

“Chan!” She practically shouted.

“What?” The leader left to his feet and hurried over. “What? Is it your head? Do you not feel well.”

Tori shook her head frantically, scrambling into a standing position. “We need to clean up.”

“What?” Changbin asked from the floor. “We’re in the middle of a practice. Why would we clean up now?”

Tori shoved the phone screen in his face.”Because Zoey is on her way up.”

“What?” Jisung demanded. “Like, right now?”

“Yes!” Tori insisted. “Two minutes ago she texted and said that the reception had told her where to find us. We need to clean up!”

She started trying to straighten her hair. “Should I meet her at the elevator?”

Chan nodded, trying to give her a reassuring smile. “You go. We’ll make ourselves presentable.”

Tori nodded and rushed out of the room, past a disturbed looking Jisung, and made for the elevators. She was only wearing leggings and a cropped-top hoodie, but she didn’t look as bad as she could. She also had no makeup on.

“Deep breaths.” She muttered to herself. “It’s just Zoey. She’s chill. You’ve talked before.”

Never mind the fact that they hadn’t actually met in person, or the fact that this was an artist that every single member of Stray Kids looked up to. Tori could not afford to mess this up.

The elevator dinged, and Tori gave her hair one final brush before the doors opened.

It felt the air had been knocked out of her when Zoey stepped into the hall. She was dressed exactly like Tori would’ve expected, in a tight leather skirt and a loose fitting t-shirt tucked in. It was the sort of effortless style that all idols seemed to have down, and that Tori was still trying to master. Her hair, dyed pink for the Shoot Out comeback, was down, and Tori noticed with a start that the older girl wasn’t wearing makeup either.

And despite the fact that Zoey was only slightly taller than Tori, it felt like her aura just filled the hall.

“Tori!” She exclaimed, smiling sweetly. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person!”

Tori floundered for words as Zoey pulled her into a hug, trying to ignore that she smelled like sweat from hours of practice, and Zoey smelled like flowers.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” She finally said. “It’s been nice talking to you.”

“It has.” Zoey agreed. “I know this has all been really random, and probably hectic as you’re in the middle of comeback promotions.”

Tori shook her head quickly. “You guys are having a comeback too! And congratulations on your wins!”

“Thank you!” Zoey said, sincerity in her tone. “We’re so excited. I can’t wait for you guys to get your first win. I think it’s just the rookies curse getting you right now. But hey, rookies of the year!”

Tori nodded, bowing in thanks. “Did you - were you watching the award show?”

Zoey shook her head sadly. “I was - indisposed.” She looked at Tori and shrugged. “Eh, we’re going to be friends. I was really drunk. Jackson told me.”

Tori laughed awkwardly. “That’s okay. I guess you guys would have been celebrating.”

“We were.” Zoey winked. “Did I interrupt your practice?”

“Oh, no!” Tori exclaimed, even though that was definitely what had happened. “We were pretty much done.”

Zoey tilted her head. “That’s good. I don’t believe you for a second, but you’ve got guts, lying straight to my face.”

“No - I. That’s not what I mean.” Tori insisted.

Zoey threw back her head and laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m just kidding. I am sorry for showing up on such short notice. Schedules are insane, you know?”

“I do.” Tori agreed.

Zoey stepped away from the elevator. “Are the rest of Stray Kids here? I would love to meet them.”

“Yes! You can follow me.” Tori gestured down the hall, and they set off at a comfortable pace.

Despite Tori’s obvious nerves, she was able to realize that Zoey was already one of the nicest people she’d ever met. She seemed really sincere in everything she said, and didn’t seem to be treating Tori like she was her inferior.

“Oh!” Zoey exclaimed. “I meant to say, you can totally drop the formalities if you want. I feel like we’re going to be pretty close by the time this thing is done with.”

Tori nodded awkwardly. “So, I could call you Eonnie?”

Zoey nodded. “Of course. Though, I get it if that’s weird from you. You’re not from Korea, are you? I know that sometimes foreigners find it weird.”

Tori shook her head. “It’s not. That would be nice. Honestly, I don’t have very many girlfriends in Korea.”

“Side effect of being surrounded by guys all the time.” Zoey nodded. “Give it like a year. I can pretty much make any of the boys go shopping with me anytime I want.”

“I’ve already done that.” Tori laughed.

Zoey gave her an impressed nod. “You’ve got me beat then. You think my boys would’ve been better, seeing as how I’m the maknae and all. Are you the youngest?”

Tori felt her heart get a little warm when Zoey called Monsta X ‘her boys’, because it made her think of how Stray Kids were her boys. “No. I’m right in the middle. Jeongin is our youngest.”

Zoey nodded in understanding. “You’ll have to introduce me, I’m afraid. I’m not the best with names.”

“I will. It’s right here.” Tori stopped in front of the door.

Zoey stopped her with a hand on her shoulder before she opened the door. “Before I screw up and make them hate me forever, hugs or no hugs?”

At Tori’s questioning glance, she added. “I’m a hugger, but I get that not everyone is.”

Tori briefly imagined the look on Jisung’s face, and quickly replied. “You could give them hugs. I’m sure that would be okay.”

Zoey beamed. “Good.”

Tori opened the door and they stepped inside the room. They boys had kicked all of the gyms bags behind the mats so that they couldn’t be seen, and were sitting around on the floor, trying to look nonchalant. They shot to their feet the second the girls entered the room.

“Anneyonghaseyo.” Zoey greeted cheerfully. “I’m Zoey.”

The boys all bowed awkwardly. “Anneyonghaseyo.”

Seeing that they were too nervous to say anything, Tori decided to just proceed with the introductions. “Zoey-Eonnie, this is Chan. He’s our leader.”

Zoey smiled and pulled him into a hug. He returned it awkwardly, looking like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She told him with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He whispered.

Tori proceeded down the line, introducing Zoey to Seungmin, Felix and Jeongin respectively. All of them managed to maintain composure, and greeted her cheerfully.

The next in the line was Jisung, who was so pale that Tori thought he might faint. But he would certainly be worse if she pointed it out, so she turned to Zoey.

“And this is Han Jisung. He’s our-”

“Rapper!” Zoey exclaimed. “You’re really good! I always tell Jooheon that you sound amazing.”

“Thank you.” He squeaked.

Zoey laughed and pulled him into a hug, and then took a nervous step back. “Are you alright? You’re shaking?”

“We’ve had a long practice?” Minho offered.

Zoey nodded in understanding, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the hand she had kept on his shoulder was giving the boy a heart attack. “I know the feeling. Honestly, this is my first day off in a while.”

Tori quickly finished up the greetings, with Zoey being sure to point out how much she loved Changbin’s rap as well. Though she clearly loved the whole group, she also had an ear for rappers, and Stray Kids certainly had some good ones.

Zoey stepped back and playfully linked arms with Tori. “I just wanted to congratulate you all on the Rookie award! That’s a huge achievement.”

“Thank you, Sunbae.” Woojin gave her a polite nod.

Zoey laughed. She was very cheerful, Tori had noticed. “I’ve never been the Sunbae before. That’s fun.” She waved her hand. “Call me whatever you like. Zoey, Z, the girl from Monsta X, Noona...I am older than all of you, aren’t I?”

“You are.” Tori confirmed.

Zoey nodded. “Well, whatever works. And I need to thank you for letting me borrow Tori. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“I hope so.” Jisung breathed. Hyunjin smacked him.

“That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Zoey agreed, seeming not to realize what he’d meant. “Anyways, I’m going to steal Tori now. Have a nice day.”

They said their goodbyes, and Tori grabbed her gym bag and headed out of the room, leading the older girl as they went.

“Did you really not notice that-” Tori cut herself off. “Nevermind.”

“What?” Zoey asked as they got in the elevator. “That Han had a crush on me?”

“You knew?” Tori gasped.

Zoey shrugged. “I’m telling you, Tori, you’ve already got lots of male fans. Your job, is to make them less embarrassed about the fact that their obsessed with you.”

“Wow.” Tori breathed. “I think I want to be you when I grow up.” It slipped out without her control.

Zoey gave a loud laugh, nudging the girl’s side. “We’re going to have fun, Tori. I can feel it.”

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