#in that case i think the subject Must enjoy it because beauty should be positive and so

[mishkakagehishka]

I see you as the gore mutual TM or something so here me out

I don't think I inherently dislike gore (still not my cup of tea but you know) I just hate people screaming and being in agony it just makes me uncomfortable. I hate people being even slightly louder than I like so I mean... idk is that weird? Am I missing the beauty of gore if I hate that part?

Tbf gore is really not for everyone, but all who like gore have a different way of interacting with it and different things they like. For example, i'm kiiiind of with you - i don't like it when the subjects are Just in pain. For me, that's only only only horror. The beauty of gore, in my opinion, comes when the subject Likes being gored. Whether it's completely pleasurable for them (not necessarily sexual, but i know that pleasure as a word has connotations) or a mix of pain and pleasure, I just need there to be a hint of "they don't hate it" in order to properly enjoy the beauty of gore. But as horror, there's an appeal in being able to hear how pained and tortured the subject is, because horror is a full-senses experience to me, and hearing it is part of it (or lack of hearing it in other types of horror, but for gore and tortureporn, i think hearing the pain is important).

In short, the beauty of gore - as one thing, where gore is beauty and beauty is gore - lies in the subject not being in too much pain, in my opinion. Gore as just gore can be anything, though.

[wickwrites]

Wonder Egg Priority Episode 4: Boys’ and Girls’ Suicides Do Mean Different Things (But Not in the Way the Mannequins Want You to Think!)

So, let’s talk about this for a second. After I got over my initial knee-jerk reaction, I realized I wasn’t sure how to make sense of exactly what the mannequins were arguing for here. So let me rephrase their statements to make the argumentative structure more explicit: Because men are goal-oriented and women are not, because women are emotion-oriented and men are not, and because women are impulsive and easily influenced by others’ voices and men are not, boys’ and girls’ suicides mean different things – girls are more easily “tempted” by death, and therefore, more likely to require saving when they inevitably regret their suicide. While Wonder Egg Priority, so far, seems to agree with the vague version of the mannequins’ conclusion, namely that boys’ and girl’s suicides mean different things, it refutes the gender-essentialist logic through which that conclusion was derived.

The mannequins choose a decidedly gender essentialist approach in explaining the difference between girls’ and boy’s suicides; they argue that the suicides are different because of some immutable characteristic of their mental hard wiring (in this case, impulsivity, emotionality, and influenceability). Obviously, this is a load of bull, and Wonder Egg Priority knows it. The mannequins are not exactly characters we’re supposed to trust, seeing that they’re running a business that is literally based on letting these kids put themselves in mortal danger. As faceless adult men, they parrot and possibly represent the systems that force these girls to continue to be subjected to physical and emotional trauma (it’s probably more complicated than this, but four episodes in, it’s hard to say more). So, we’re probably supposed to take what they say with great skepticism. Also, the director, Shin Wakabayashi, has recently said that in response to these lines, Neiru was originally going to object, “When it comes to their brains, boys and girls are also the same,” (which unfortunately is not exactly true and is somewhat of an oversimplification, but the sentiment is there). While that line ultimately did not make it in, Neiru does reply with a confused and somewhat indignant, “What?!”, a reaction that gets the message across.  Neiru is not a fan of gender essentialism, and as a (more) sympathetic character, we’re supposed to agree with her.

That is, the differences between boys and girls is not something inherent to their biology or character, but something constructed by culture and experience. This rejection of gender-essentialism is apparent in Wonder Egg Priority’s narrative, which takes a more sociocultural perspective on the difference between boys’ and girls’ suicides. It says, well of course boys’ and and girl’s suicides don’t mean the same thing, that’s the whole reason why we’re delving into the experiences specific to being a girl (cis or trans) or AFAB in this world – to show you how girls’ suicides are influenced by systems of oppression perpetuated by those in power (ie. the adult, in this specific anime).

And all the suicides we’ve seen up until now tie into that somehow. For instance, Koito is bullied by her female classmates who think that Sawaki is giving her special treatment. This is a narrative that comes up over and over again, in real life as well: that if a young girl is being given attention from an older man, then it’s her fault – that she must want it, or at least enjoy it somehow, and that it signifies a virtue (eg. maturity or beauty) on her part. And if Koito is actually being given such treatment by Sawaki, an adult man in a position of power over her, that is incredibly predatory. 

And we all know that child sexual abuse is something that overwhelmingly affects girls, with one out of nine experiencing it before the age of 18, as opposed to one out of 53 boys (Finkelhor et al., 2014). Regardless of whether Sawaki was actually abusing Koito or if the students only thought that he was, Koito’s trauma is ultimately the result of this romanticized “love between a young girl and adult man, but not because the man is predatory, but because the girl has some enviable virtue that makes her desirable” narrative. Similarly, in episode 2, Minami’s suicide is driven by ideas related to discipline and body image in sports, which while not necessarily specific to female and AFAB athletes, is framed in an AFAB-specific way. For instance, take the pressure on Minami to “maintain her figure”. Certainly, male athletes also face a similar pressure, but we know that AFAB and (cis and trans) female bodies are subject to closer scrutiny and criticism. We know that young girls are more likely to suffer from eating disorders. And Wonder Egg Priority situates Minami’s experience as decidedly “about” AFAB experience when her coach accuses her change of figure due to her period as a character failing on her part.

 Likewise, episode 3 delves into suicides related to “stan” culture, this fervent dedication to celebrities that is overwhelmingly associated to teenage girls. And Miwa’s story, in episode 4, explicitly shows how society responds to sexual assault. When Miwa does have the courage to speak up about her assault, she’s instantly reprimanded by basically everyone around her. Her father is fired because her abuser was an executive of his company. Her mother asks her why she couldn’t just bear with it, telling her that her abuser chose her because she was cute, as if that’s supposed to make her feel better about it. Wonder Egg Priority shows that this sort of abuse is a systemic problem, a set of rules and norms deeply engrained in a society and upheld by all adults, regardless of gender, social status, or closeness (to the victim). Wonder Egg Priority says that, yes, girls’ and boys’ suicides have different meanings, but it’s not due to some inherent difference between the two, but the hostile environment in which these girls grow up. Girls are not more easily “tempted” by death, they just have more societal bullshit to deal with.

But Wonder Egg Priority goes further than just showcasing how girls’ (and AFAB) experiences are shaped by sociocultural factors. The story also disproves the supposedly dichotomous characteristics that the mannequins use to differentiate girls and boys (i.e. influenceability/independence, impulsivity/deliberation, emotion-orientation/goal-orientation). If the mannequins are indeed correct, and that girls are just influenceable, impulsive, and emotional, you’d expect the girls in the story to be to be like such too. Except, they aren’t. Rather, they’re a mix of both/all characteristics. This show says that, certainly, girls can be suggestible, but they’re also capable of thinking for themselves. For instance, when Momoe asserts her own identity as a girl at the end of episode four, she rejects the words of those around her who insisted that she isn’t a girl. If she were as suggestible as the mannequins believe her to be, that would never have happened – she would have just continued believing that she wasn’t girl “enough”. But, she doesn’t because she is equally capable of making her own judgements. Likewise, Wonder Egg Priority shows that girls can be impulsive, but they can also be deliberate and pre-mediating. When Miwa tricks her Wonder Killer into groping her to create an opening for Momoe to defeat it, she’s not doing it out of impulse – it’s a pre-mediated and deliberate choice unto a goal. And Wonder Egg Priority continues, girls can be equally emotion oriented and goal oriented. Sure, the main girls are fighting because they have the goal of bringing their loved ones back to life, but those goals are motivated by a large range of emotions, from guilt to anger, grief, compassion, and love. 

Being emotion-driven doesn’t mean you’re not goal-driven, and vice versa. In fact, in this case, being emotional drives these girls toward their goals. In other words, none of these traits that the mannequins listed are either “girl traits” or “boy traits”. Being one does not mean you can’t be the other, even if they seem dichotomous at first. Wonder Egg Priority’s diverse cast of multi-dimensional female characters allows it to undermine the mannequins’ conceptualization of gendered roles, refuting the idea that these (or any) character traits should be consider gendered at all.

As an underdeveloped side thought, I think Wonder Egg Priority’s blurring of gendered roles is also well-reflected in its style. There’s been a lot of talk about whether Wonder Egg Priority constitutes a magical girl series, and I think that’s an interesting question deserving of its own essay. Certainly, it does follow the basic formula of the magical girl story: a teenage heroine ensemble wielding magical weapons saves the day. But it also throws out a lot of the conventions you’d expect of a magical girl story – both aesthetically and narratively. Aesthetically, it’s probably missing the component that most would consider the thing that makes an anime a magical girl anime: the full body transformation sequence, complete with the sparkles and the costume and all that. Narratively, the girls are also not really magical girl protagonist material – they’ve got a fair share of flaws, have done some pretty awful things (looking at Kawai in particular; I still love you though), and aren’t exactly the endlessly self-sacrificing heroines you’d expect from a typical magical girl story. On the other hand, the anime also borrows a lot from shonen battle anime. We get these dynamic, well choreographed action sequences full of horror and gore, the focus on the importance of camaraderie between allies (or “nakama”, as shonen anime would call it) exemplified through all the bonding between the main girls during their downtime, and in the necessary co-operation to bring down the Wonder Killers. That said, this anime is not a shonen; the characters, types of conflicts, and themes are quite different from those that you’d find in a typical shonen. The bleeding together of the shonen genre and the magical girl genre, at the very least (and I say this because I think it does way more than just that), reflects Wonder Egg Priority’s interest in rebelling against conventional narratives about girlhood and gender.

[inkedtae]

orange tree ⇾ knj, kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ares!namjoon x mortal!reader (f.) x apollo!taehyung

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ greek god au, established relationship (w/namjoon), smut, pwp, filth, poly au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ he built you a pathronon but you would like to expand its patrons… at least just for the evening.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7.4k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!namjoon, tattooed!namjoon, silver mullet!namjoon, dom!taehyung, blonde mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, a lil bratty!reader, rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), humilition kink, size kink, pain kink, jealousy, threesome, overstimulation, degradation, double penatration (in one hole), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), deep throating, cockwarming, choking, manhandling, body worshipping, pussy worshipping, basically reader worshipping, pussy slapping, cum eating, clit biting, spanking, teasing, begging, spit play, breath play, breast play, pretty much an ungodly amount of filth :)))

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m a hoe :))

❧ banner by ⇾ @kimtaehyunq​ (thank you so much friend~)

❧ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk​ and @uhgood-dooghu​ (a million thanks to these cuties~)

❧ le playlist

⟶ commission for @jamaisjoons through ChangesWithLuv, supporting BLM

Beyond the holy village of Barthes, within a meadow of sun dropped marigolds, you lounge topless underneath an orange tree. Cool winds cut the late summer heat. The breeze hardens your nipples and prickles your exposed skin with goosebumps. Hair tousled, you bite into another orange slice. He did not care for citrus, until he tasted your lips. Then, he planted you an orange tree. He promised you good fortune and a long life. 

“You will want for nothing,” he told you. “Just, behave.”

Behave. A word he’d used often with you. Jaw tense, he’d hiss the warning while fondling your breasts or cupping your sex. When he is furious, he is boundless. He fucks like a titan, remnants of a gracious god completely withering away. Tight grips, rough pounds, and seething threats that promise such painful pleasure, Kim Namjoon is a red hot planet of sexual destruction. So angry, so lustful, he serves you a cockful of discipline and then some. You are helpless. To his wrath, you are subjected. But, you don’t mind. The truth of the matter is, your body is always alive when buried under his. 

“You’re a minx,” a deep voice states behind you. 

You sit up, fruit juice trailing down your arm. Lips in a pout, you gaze up at the tall man behind you. Blonde hair, symmetrical face, sharp collarbone, broad chest and - he smirks - and, oh so sinister. How could a delicate smile be so devilishly sincere? And he brands you a minx… what does this handsome man know of you? How long has he been watching? Swallowing your bite thickly, you try and fail to fathom his beauty.

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and circles around you. His eyes dance around the thin, red blanket, the array of fruits, and braided loaves by the wicker basket before trailing up your exposed legs. A shiver snakes around your curves. The way his eyes devour you makes you think he did not stumble upon this hideaway accidentally. Namjoon took extensive measures to ensure no one would. No, this man knows. He must. Why else would he not question your presence alone under the only tree? He accepts it, expects it. 

Pushing your sticky arms around your breast, you attempt to somewhat conceal yourself and ask, “Are you a traveller?” 

He shakes his head. The wind plays with his hair the moment the sun emerges behind heavy clouds. Its natural glow lights up his figure, in all its holy glory. Well-toned, pierceless, inkless, chiseled features are all too accurate to be human. He is pure. There is very little scarring on his skin as well. He looks down right angelic, prophetic, utterly godly. 

Has Namjoon really entertained your fantasies? You first made the suggestion off hand, completely innocent in your phrasing, until his face fell. Stone fierce gaze slicing through your soul, you couldn’t help but describe an ocean’s worth of desires involving more than one man by your side. You were fucked to tears against the tree until it’s branches were bare and the ground was covered in ripe fruit and loose leaves. You thought that would be the end of it. But now, as you carefully stare at the god while he shamelessly sips on your near nakedness, you wonder just how wrong you might have been. 

“Have you come to watch?”  

“To worship.”

Your arousal slicks your thighs. Pressing your legs together, you suppress the giddy shivers that caress your spine. Though excited, you really can’t believe Namjoon did it. It was a joke but, scanning the sun god’s frame once more, you’re glad he didn’t take it that way. Face flushed, you lie back in your previous position. On your side, breasts on full display, you toss your hair aside. As your lips part to question the details of his intentions, you catch a familiar silhouette by the sea, in the distance. Flickering your gaze between the two men, you wonder if this new god was sent to test your loyalty or limits? The figure nods. You smile.

Attention returning to the golden god, you ask, “Apollo, is it?”

“Taehyung,” he corrects.

“Is that the name you prefer I scream?”

He pauses. Those mismatched eyes widen at your intrepidity. Dazed in confusion, he scans your frame once again, as if reprocessing your presence. He’s underestimated your wits, you realize, but the newfound understanding in his eyes reassures you that it won’t happen again. Good. He’s a quick learner. 

Quirking a brow at the blanket beneath you, he asks, “May I?”

You nod once. He licks his lips twice, bites on the bottom one, then seats himself beside you. On his side, bare chest on display, he takes in the scenery from this new angle. Flowers bloom under a peachy dawn, and the vast fields of greenery wither to sandy shores where the sea waves as a way of greeting. His cocky stare lingers on your boyfriend before settling back to your little shrine underneath the orange tree. It’s a parthenon all on its own, with you as the center of its divinity. This detail seems to intrigue him more than it should, but you assume it might also have something to do with being watched. 

Taking his hand in yours, you feel the dimming warmth of the setting sun. Who’s manning the chariot, you wonder, and would he be willing to let you ride it? Your bones tremble beneath your flesh at the impression of a distant growl. Oh, right. You almost forgot Ares can read your mind. Being something of a soulmate, he’s connected to you in ways other gods are not. Another growl slices through your thoughts. Jealousy sounds so good on him. Hearing his frustrations, knowing he’s enjoying the way you indulge, flusters the anxious bundle of nerves at your core. 

Taehyung chuckles. Inches away now, his hot breath fans over your cheek. Fingers trailing up from your hand, along your arm then to your neck, he wraps his hand around your throat. He presses his thumb in the divet just under your chin, teasing a choke but never actually going through with it. You wonder what Namjoon must be hissing by the sea. What kind of curses is he throwing? Just picturing his furious eyes and cliffed jaw tickles the pit of your stomach. 

“You’re precious,” Taehyung whispers, lips pressed against your chin. “I understand why he hides you from us.”

Us? Olympus knows of your blasphemous citrus temple? Usually, this kind of revelation would grant you a lightning bolt to the heart and an eternity in Tartarus. Only this wakes something different in Taehyung. His breath shallows, erection pokes at your thigh. He’s aroused by the idea of worshipping someone as powerless as a mortal. Or perhaps, you wonder as Taehyung nibbles on your skin, he simply adores displaying his power. Either or, you decide to make the most of what your Ares has granted you. Gaze finding his broad frame again, you let out an exaggerated gasp. 

Namjoon flinches. However, it isn’t until you press your body against Taehyung’s that he cringes. He shifts his weight, fist clenched by his sides and you swear you can see steam hovering over his head. Namjoon is livid. But, Taehyung is oblivious. Too consumed by your pleasure, he tightens his grip on your throat and trails his open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts. Nipple between his teeth, Taehyung groans in hunger. Tongue teasing, he licks to play, not to soothe any of the stings. Your toes and legs hook around his waist. Hips rolling, you tease a preview of what you have in mind.

Taehyung shifts half an inch away though. You know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the gesture, the throb against your hip reassuring you just how much he would really enjoy it. It still hurts your pride, however. Twinges of humiliation taint your soft features. He offers half a smirk as a means of comfort. 

“He told me you’ve got quite a mouth.”

Is that an excuse or explanation? In both cases, it’s weak. He traces your face, fingertips so soft you almost forget the indirect rejection. Charming, his tiger starved gaze reflects hints of amusement. You’re easy prey, a fact that crumbles your courage. He is not here to coddle your pride, to serve the goddess of this naturous parthenon, but rather to obliviate it. A pitiful pile of pleasure is all he wishes to make of you. Though, now you wonder, is he doing this because he wants to, or because he’s ordered to? 

Eyes darting between Apollo and Ares, you swallow thickly. The wondrous glow in Taehyung’s gaze makes you pause. Perhaps you’ve been too hasty. Perhaps they were both counting on that. The humiliation returns ten fold and prickles your skin upon realizing how careless you have been. Too quick to show your keen interest in devouring a different dose of daylight, you did not make Taehyung work as hard as he should’ve. And knowing that must have been what Namjoon was expecting only festers your heart with anger. This isn’t an opportunity to indulge, you conclude, but to reprimand. The both of them want to sip on your submission. The role of a meek mortal amuses them more than it should. It turns you on more than it should. So, you pull away more than you should. 

Laying back on your elbows, you redirect your gaze to the sky. You can feel both pairs of eyes studying you. Taehyung props himself up on his forearm and looks over at your suddenly calmed features. It’s almost as if you’ve never exchanged a word at all. 

“Funny,” you restart, all cards hidden this time. “He never mentioned you.” 

Angry, confused, perhaps both, Taehyung stares. He blink, blink, blinks before he fully registers what’s been said. You can feel Namjoon’s delight though. The pride he has in the way you sassed a rival resonates deep in your core.

As you shimmy out of your dress, Taehyung finally scoffs a chuckle. You attempt to ignore the way it lights your soul with desire and focus on Namjoon’s silhouette. He looks closer, lurking by the tall grass, though still near the sand. Fully naked, you try to school your features and pretend you don’t notice the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches while Taehyung’s falls slack. Your hands rests on Taehyung’s bare thigh long enough to make him shudder and your boyfriend growl. It’s almost all too easy to push Namjoon’s buttons. He hates it when you do something simply because you can. 

“You abuse your power,” he always tells you. 

And, with a smile, you always reply, “I don’t abuse anything, Joonie. You just can’t refuse it.” 

Taehyung seems to prove this statement now, falling prey to the way you toy with him. Half focused, you’re paying enough attention to him to feel his frustration. Displeased with the way you have your eyes glued on the god of war, Taehyung huffs and inches closer. 

“Do I need to plant you an orange tree?” he teases. Well, he attempts to anyways. The resentment in his tone seeps through instead. 

You bite back a smirk. “You can try.”

His eyes flash with annoyance. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung raises a brow. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you can safely assume he’s highly debating it. His eyes shift around the tree the two of you currently lounge under. Sparing you a glance, he scoffs. Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s worth it, you wonder. It’s no matter to you. All it really means is more time spent frustrating him, teasing him beyond- 

The ground crackles, splitting open with the presence of new roots. Bare branches rise and twist around the orange tree trunk. The deep green leaves sprout. Then, ripe figs bloom. They dangle closer to you than the oranges do. You don’t have much time to really admire them, however, as a loud rumble rattles your bones. The sound is enough to snap your fearful eyes to the seashore. Namjoon is gone. 

Shit. Have you taken this too far? Namjoon did plant this tree for you. He had never so much so as looked at another mortal. His allegiance, devotion, and adoration has been declared to you on more than one occasion. You are all he ever sees, thinks, breathes. Swallowing thickly, you mentally call him back. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince him. A quiet hum from the other side of the line is enough to soothe your anxiety. You lean back into the other god.

Taehyung couldn’t be less concerned. Instead of searching for Namjoon, as you seem to be interested in doing, he latches his lips onto your shoulder, a single hand cupping your breast. You gasp. Taking this as an encouragement to continue, Taehyung trails a wet arrangement of open mouthed kisses along your neck. Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he hisses, “Quite a fucking mouth, indeed.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your breast and continues, “Might need some good dick to keep it in check.”

The thought is appealing. So much so, that you cannot help the way your eyes widen and glisten with interest. Having his cock shoved down your throat while he growls at the sheer sight of it alone has compelled your undivided attention. But, Namjoon’s rage still scratches at your bones, warning you against playing too much. 

You scoff. “Who says I don’t already have that?”

Taehyung does not reply. Not a smirk graces his lips nor breath escapes him. He simply leans in for a kiss. You find yourself giving in all too quickly. He slides his hand down to cup the space between your thighs and you cannot find it within you to push it away. In fact, you spread your legs further apart and tell yourself it’s reactive. The jolt of your hips up into his hand though… that might’ve been calculative. 

But the simple gesture of rolling your hips into his palm has shown all your cards once more. He reclaims the power, pulling away from the kiss and your sex. He clutches onto your hair, a deadpan expression the only means of emotion now. In huffing silence, he yanks on your hair, guiding your head down to his crotch. You hiss, the gesture proving more pleasurable than painful as you feel a fresh rush of your wetness further stain your legs. 

His silk skirt, pinned up and hanging from his hip by an arrowed, gold pin, lies in a disarried pile beside him. His huge cock is all that stands before you. He’s thicker than Namjoon, but, even with its impressive length, it does not compare to your boyfriend’s size. Taehyung is massive, but Namjoon is monstrous. 

Your mouth still salivates all the same. Tip oozing precum, Taehyung shoves your face against his balls. His thick scent rolls your tongue out. Heavy in lust, he mostly smells of lemons and cream. You’ve always adored citrus… Namjoon knows this well. And though you expected to feel your boyfriend’s anger at this revelation, all you feel on the other side is emptiness. You wonder where he’s gone. 

Or, at least you attempt to wonder. The moment you feel the impression of Taehyung’s weighty balls against your lips, all your thoughts dissipate. You swirl your tongue around each one before dropping them in your mouth. Suckling, drool dripping, your enthusiasm cannot be hidden any longer. Moaning maniactically, your eyes roll back.

Taehyung gasps and hisses. The peak of his groans, however, surfaces when you wrap a hand around his thick cock. You were ready to start pumping until you realized a single hand barely even covers half of him. Both hands wrapped around his length now, you twist and drag them up and down. Every so often, you tighten your grip a bit and let out a throaty moan. He shudders each time, legs trembling from your attention. 

On your knees, with your ass up high for any onlookers to easily see, the wind lashes at your heat. You squeal, then pull his balls out of your mouth to spit on his cock. The thick wad makes it easier to pump him. Brows furrowed, he runs a hand through his golden hair and shakily sighs… then his sight sets on something behind you. He smirks, white canines a dangerous nod to his power. 

A familiar hand rests on the small of your back, the other landing a harsh smack on your ass. You scream and fall forward onto Taehyung, face fully buried in his cock now. He laughs heartily, running a hand through your hair as a weak excuse for comfort. 

The hand behind you does not stop after one smack. It goes in for second, then third, and before you know it, your ass is burning with stings and pussy wetter than the ocean behind you. The pain ignites something viciously erotic, cradling your heart enough to make you whimper. It’s the idea of being used, you assume, and it only makes you perk your ass up higher. 

His raspy scoff makes you shiver, spine tingling with excitement. He gropes onto your ass and grunts, “Don’t try to be a good girl now.” 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Namjoon uses this harsh grip to shove your face further against Taehyung’s crotch. He pulls back and tries again, making sure your mouth engulfs his friend’s cock this time. 

“You want to suck his cock, huh? Then fucking suck, you little slut,” he growls.

Your face flames with embarrassment. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Taehyung’s gaze. He merely laughs through a moan, leaning back on his hands as he watches you choke on his cock. You really can’t take him all in one go; you haven’t even found a way to take Namjoon in a single motion. But, your boyfriend couldn’t care less. He pushes your head down and keeps it there. Your jaw aches, throat burns, contracting around Taehyung’s thickness enough to make him throw his head back. Tears spill and spill and you foolishly think this will be the height of his punishment. 

Then, in he goes. 

“Such a wet little bitch,” Namjoon hisses as he pushes his cock into your pussy. 

You let out a strangled whine against Taehyung, much to his pleasure, and attempt to spread your legs, but Namjoon keeps them in place. They’re barely a hip’s length apart. The pain prickles against your pussy’s wall, making you gag a sob around Taehyung’s cock. The pressure of Namjoon’s huge dick behind you and the weight of Taehyung’s in your mouth trembles your posture. You shake under the intimidation and it doesn’t help at all that Taehyung’s dick is suffocating you. 

Namjoon pulls your head up the moment he fully enters. Gasping, you try to catch your breath. You inhale deeply each time, worried Namjoon will shove you back down on Taehyung’s cock without warning. Instead, he gives you a quick moment to breathe, ramming in and out of you like he’s riding a stallion. 

Taehyung, eyes half-lidded, admires the way you drool and babble all over yourself. You heave, holding his gaze long enough to realize he’s mocking you, tongue out and breathes exasperated. Then he laughs and Namjoon laughs, and your pride shrivels up. Dignity on the brink of shattering, you try to avoid his gaze, biting your lip to swallow your moans as Namjoon works his way in and out of you. 

But Taehyung will not have any of that. He nudges your wet chin back to him and teasingly pouts. “Is baby embarrassed?” he asks, tone more menacing than that taunting gaze of his. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Cupping your chin, Taehyung squeezes your cheeks to pucker your lips. “Answer me,” he seethes. 

Parting your lips, you’re about to confirm his statement when Namjoon grunts behind you. He  thrusts his hips particularly harder this time and your balance crumbles. You fall over Taehyung. He catches you with his lips, his hand trailing from your face to your neck and gripping onto it like he owns it. 

Namjoon is displeased. With a growl, he snaps his hips up, balls shoving their way in you too. Your teeth knock with Taehyung, causing him to grunt and glare at the god behind you. You watch him stare your boyfriend down while tightening his grip on your neck. He goes to say something, a curse judging by the placement of his lips in his teeth, but Namjoon pulls you out of his grasp before Taehyung can even get a syllable out. 

Replacing Taehyung’s hand with his own on your neck, Namjoon pulls you back up against his chest. His other hand wraps around your waist. Lips to the shell of your ear, he hammers into you and whispers, “Don’t go forgetting who you belong to.”

You hold Taehyung’s hard stare. His face reddens, cheeks drawn into his mouth as he glares. You whimper, pouting and nodding to Namjoon, but neither one of them seems convinced. Taehyung’s brows raise as if you’ve given him some sort of sign, and Namjoon’s hissing warnings against getting carried away. 

“Better not say his name.”

Out of sheer spite, you part your lips to utter the other’s name. However, the word is consequently pounded right out of your mind the moment it emerges. Neither god gives you another moment to develop a reply at all as they battle for your attention. A part of you wishes that each of them simply takes turns, but you already know how useless that would be. Neither one of them will be willing to wait and watch. Namjoon already slipped himself in, the act of watching being too distant for him. 

And it seems to be the same for Taehyung as well. He can’t sit still, can’t just watch you get ravished by someone else. You catch the annoyed twinkle in his eye darkening every time Namjoon makes you scream. Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shifts so that he’s lying by your knees and pulls the plump, upper flesh of your pussy apart. Then, smirking, he dips his head in and enthusiastically sucks on your clit. Teeth grazing, he bites and nibbles, drawing the most high-pitched squeals out of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his face further against your pussy. 

Namjoon huffs a groan against your cheek. Pounding in full force, he loosens his grip on you a bit. Your hips jolt forward, Taehyung’s teeth clamping down on your clit. You cry out, both hands back over Namjoon’s arm. The god by your knees did not escape unscathed either, his lips slightly bruised from the hit. He drags his gaze up to you, glare deadly. 

Guts twisting in ecstasy and guilt, you whimper and shake your head. “Sorr-” 

Your apology clinches in your throat as Namjoon tightens his grip on it. “Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” he grunts into your hair. 

Taehyung catches onto Namjoon’s sly gesture quickly, hungry eyes aflame for vengeance. “Keep her still, or I’ll fuck her into the ground.” His deep voice tickles the swirling pit of your stomach. So rich and raspy, his dulcet voice guides you closer to your orgasm than you’d be brave enough to admit. 

Subsequently, Taehyung relatches his lips to your clit. Namjoon swallows enough of his pride not to shake him off again. And you shudder as high doses of ecstasy creep over your nerves. It pumps your veins with excitement, anticipation and sheer joy. Even when they’ve mocked you and used you as a pocket pussy- a set of holes, you cannot deny how horny it makes you for them. 

Namjoon huffs your name in your ear, whispering about your tightness, about how he knows how fucking close you are. “Baby is gonna cream,” he mockingly coos. “Do you want him to taste you? Are you that much of a slut, you want another man to taste you? He’ll get addicted.” Namjoon grunts thrice before continuing, “But you already know that, right? You want him addicted. You want him to worship that little cunt of yours, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” you screech. Whether it is in reply to his questions or simply a reaction to the dual assault of your pussy, you’re not quite certain. But, Namjoon is. And he’s irate. Shaking with anger, his pounds reach a pace unknown to gods, even Taehyung raises an impressed brow. 

Your next intake of air cinches somewhere in your throat. You try to scream, to cry, to make some sort of sound as your cum rushes out of you. Gushing, slouching, your pussy makes enough noise that your mouth doesn’t need to. Both men fall victim to it - to you - anyway. Squirming in Namjoon’s hold, there’s very little you can do. Your mind is foggy, vision blurry, but it doesn’t stop either of them. A distant clash of throaty moans fill the fields, though you can’t register much of that either. Your ears are ringing too much to hear more than your own heartbeat struggling to keep up. 

Taehyung growls, his hands constantly knocking against Namjoon’s. Your dazed gaze falls to meet his. Eyes blazed with sexual frustration, he claws at your hips and pulls you forward against him. Namjoon, however, keeps a strong hold on your waist. Your torso’s his for the taking. He grabs hold of your chin and whips your head back to him. 

“You look at me when you cum,” he seethes. “Or you won’t cum at all next time.” 

Half a breath escapes you in response, but it seems to be half a breath too late. Namjoon emits a raspy groan so sinister it would be a crime to simply call it a growl. He roars. You feel the vibrations of the sound in your spine, another dose of your cum rushing through you. Then, all too quickly, he lets go of you. It takes his hands off your chest for you to realize your legs gave out long ago. You instantly fall to your knees. Taehyung is quick to catch you in his arms. Lips inches apart, Taehyung looks ready to share some of his oxygen with you when Namjoon orders, “Turn her around.”

Taehyung glares over your head. Gulping, his lips twitch in a fake smile as he lifts you. You, however, cannot let him give in that easily. Besides, nothing is better than angering the god of war. His stubborn, victory-bound heart will not rest until you submit to him over Taehyung. And, throwing you into the enemy’s arms does not seem like he’s trying hard enough to win, to discipline you. So, after Taehyung turns you around in his lap, you press a passionate kiss upon his lips, slipping your tongue in for good measure. Taehyung snakes his hand between your legs too, fingers playing all too much for you to stay silent. Between kisses, you sneak a glance at Namjoon, finding Taehyung already doing the same thing.  

Towering over you, skin inked, nipples pierced, muscles flexed and slick with sweat, Namjoon huffs. His jaw is locked, a gesture you’ve learned isn’t at all meant to be comforting. With his cheeks sucked in and a brow quirked, Namjoon jerks himself off to the sight of you so openly defiant.

“Open your dirty mouth,” Namjoon orders through gritted teeth. “I need to clean it out.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, his fingers ceasing their movements as he cups your sex instead. “So dramatic,” he teases, earning a cold stare from Namjoon. 

You resist the urge to giggle, having to choose your battles carefully. Taehyung has already gotten too much attention anyways, you decide. Pushing his hand away from your pussy, you ignore the wet kisses Taehyung peppers upon the nape of your neck and gaze up at Namjoon with your mouth open. 

He bites his lip to keep from smirking. And, with a loud, chest drawn groan, he releases his load all over your chin and breasts. The warmth of his cum sets your skin ablaze. It feels just as thick as it tastes. Licking around your face, you try to swallow whatever you can get. A little smile breaks out on Namjoon’s face, swelling your heart with pride. 

However, Taehyung isn’t as moved by the gesture as you are. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls your head back against his shoulder. “That’s enough of that,” he breathes over your face. Then he wipes the rest of Namjoon’s cum off with the pad of his thumb and pecks your lips. He rubs the cum into your nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger. 

You almost forget Namjoon's presence. That is, until he grabs hold of your ankles and yanks you right out of Taehyung’s hold. With a loud gasp, you’re on your back, legs spread and Namjoon at the center. He gazes lazily down at you, like handling your body is a casual passtime. There is something glittering within that suspicious ease, however. Something cocky, angry, and terrifying. Hand around your neck, Namjoon jerks you off the floor and shoves you back into Taehyung’s arms. 

The golden god catches you with a grunt. He draws his brows together in confusion, silently questioning Namjoon. He parts his lips, but your boyfriend huffs, cutting him off. Namjoon grabs you by your bicep and turns you around to face Taehyung. 

After making sure your legs are spread and straddling the other god’s waist, Namjoon seethes, “The simplest instructions.” His warm tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. Between nibbles he continues, “You can’t even follow the simplest instructions. That can’t be easily forgiven anymore, baby.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, considering he’s never punished you in this position before. Usually, being on top is a reward. He grants you a sliver of control, consequence free, when you’ve been well-behaved. This level of generosity is a rarity. However, as Namjoon pushes you further into Taehyung, with you wrapped around his torso, you begin to wonder what kind of punishment you’re in for, and which one of them is administering it. 

Of course, these thoughts are fleeting as Taehyung’s fat cock prods around your pulsing hole. Sparks of bliss set to flames the nerves bunching around your clit. You shudder each time he brushes his tip against it. Petting your hair back just to grab it, Taehyung breathes a chuckle into the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks on your delicate skin like you belong to him. And for a split second, you almost think you do. The sweet, wet kisses and the way he eases into you only just has you forgetting that Namjoon is standing over you, watching as another god worships.

With a smack, your memories jolt back. The sting of both cheeks makes you all too aware of his presence now. You cry out, falling over Taehyung clumsily. The spank hit so hard, so fast that it even has Namjoon hissing from the impact. Even still, he smacks you again and again and again. “You still have no idea what you’ve asked for, do you?” he questions. 

You thought you did. You hoped you did. But, as Namjoon spanks you with added force, you realize just how right he is. You whimper into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’s kept his cock warm in your tight, clenching hole when Namjoon begins to get vicious with his spanks. Chuckling and mocking you in whispers, Taehyung finds your suddenly all too obedient state entertaining. It flames your face with shame, your entire body caught between wanting another serving of cock or slaps. He imitates your whimpers, coaxing more tears out of you before hissing, “If you had any real shame, you’d get off my cock and go suck your boyfriend’s.”

“She’s a fucking slut,” Namjoon answers, landing another slap to your tenders cheeks. “Why’d you stop fucking her?”

Some humanity flashes in Taehyung’s eyes as you nuzzle your face against his. He mutters something incoherent, along the lines of, “She can’t handle it.” 

“She can!” Namjoon grunts as he finally rubs your pain buzzed ass. A shaky whine escapes you and tickles Taehyung’s ear. “You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, digging his nails into your flesh. 

You whine in agreement. It’s not enough. He needs to hear you say- scream it. Grabbing a handful of your hair, he peels you off Taehyung enough for him to get a good look at your face. He folds his hands under his head, smirking at the sight of you so shattered by pleasure of being in pain. Face flushed, wet, cum stained and eyes innocent, your features fold in raptured anguish. 

Namjoon roughly kneads your right cheek while pressing the length of his cock against it. “Can you take the fucking like a good girl?” He mockingly coos. It juts a chorus of shivers down your spine. 

You squeeze tight around Taehyung at the thought. He rasps your name. Namjoon growls lowly, rubbing himself against you as he warns, “You’re not gonna make me ask you a third time, are you?” 

Taehyung shifts his hips, cinching your breath at your throat from the stroke of friction. Why did he have to be so big, so pretty and hot staring at you like that? Why’d you have to go tempting gods you know you can’t keep up with? You regret angering Namjoon, realizing that jealousy is the worst power trip you can feed a god. They both want to watch you fall apart, crumble into a pile of bones. Tears spill at the thought, pussy aching around a cock too big to adjust to. Every nerve feels so sensitive, so overused, yet you need to cum again. 

No. You can’t take it. But, you’ll be damned if you tell either of them that. And as Namjoon lays another sharp smack on your cheeks, tingling with pain, you circle your hips around Taehyung’s and cry out a broken, breathy and utterly desperate, “Y-es!”

Taehyung grips onto your hips, pulling you half out. You expect to be plunged onto his cock with a new degree of force, but find another one attempting to squeeze in as well. Namjoon’s monster cock pushing into your pussy alongside Taehyung’s. Your jaw drops, eyes roll back as that viciously delicious stretch strangles your soul with bliss. He enters you slow, but sharp, knowing full well that the both of them cannot fit. 

Neither cares. Both gods create a quickly speeding rhythm of thrusts into you. Body jolting forwards, breasts shaking over Taehyung’s face and ass bouncing against Namjoon’s hips. He hunches over you to groan your name in your ear, voice husky with lust and dominance. He repeats the word like a prayer. Every syllable drips slow out of his lips like thick molasses when his voice reaches such depth. 

You try to lean back into him, but Taehyung keeps you in place with the tight grip on your hips. “Stay still,” he grunts against your nipple. Then, he sucks on it, teasing the little nub between his teeth. 

You moan a little too loud at Taehyung’s ministrations for Namjoon’s liking. Both hands locked on your ass, Namjoon pushing your cheek up and against Taehyung. You lose whatever balance you had weighted on your arms, falling flat against the sun god with a squeal. His cock fully plugs into you and when he tries to thrust up against you once more, Namjoon growls, “Both of you stay still.”

A shiver tickles your spine with the wind. As Taehyung kisses your neck, you attempt to sneak a peek at your boyfriend over your shoulder and push your ass back into him. He’s sweaty and huffing. The peachy sunset behind him halos around his muscular frame. He’s so pretty when he’s mad, all those veins lacing his inked skin like little spider webs. His gaze finds yours, that annoyed look intensifying in his eyes when you wink at him.

And though it was completely innocent, it still switches something off in Namjoon. He shifts his tight grip on your ass to the small of your back then, all at once, presses down onto it with the entirety of his strength. A series of loud cracks elicit from your spine like the fire of a gun at the start of a race. And away go his hips as he rams in and out of your too full pussy. 

Screams and sudden sobs pour out of you and onto Taehyung as the both of you get shaken by Namjoon’s force. You know your back isn’t broken, blown out maybe, but definitely not broken. You just didn’t think this would be the result of his jealousy and anger. Did he think you were mocking him with that wink, with Taehyung? Perhaps some mocking did occur with Taehyung around, but he’s always liked your snarkier side. He tells you to behave because he knows you won’t and adores it when you don’t. But, maybe you did take it too far, and give into Taehyung too much. You really wish you can say, with all this overstimulating and teasing and taunting, that you regret it all. 

Only, you don’t. 

Clutching tighter onto Taehyung’s shoulders, your tears fall as freely as your broken moans. Namjoon smacks his hips over your ass, pounding your pussy like it’s just you two here. It’s not as though Taehyung is lying under you, obsessing over how tight you are and just how amazing you smell. 

“You know why he’s so mad right,” he questions quietly, voice strained. When you shake your head, he chuckles and whispers, “Because he knows how much better I make you feel.”

The whimper that leaves you was by no means a response to whatever Taehyung was going on about. Though he gives it to you great, he doesn’t compare to your boyfriend. You suppose Namjoon knows this too, somewhere within that deep connection you two share. Still, he holds you further down against Taehyung, practically melding your body into his, and thrusts at an ungodly speed just as he did when he caught you sucking Taehyung’s cock. 

You’re not sure either of them understand the load of pleasure they are washing over you. Taehyung has his giant cock stationed in your pussy with his tip pressing continuously against your g-spot as Namjoon’s monstrous cock jabs at it again and again. 

Body trembling, voice broken, you squeal, “I’m- ahhgh I’m gon-na cuu-uum.”

“Me too,” Taehyung husks in your ear. It has you clenching tighter. 

Namjoon scoffs through a moan. “No, you’re fucking not.” 

“But, Joon-”

A harsh smack against your ass silences your protests. “You know what to do when you’re close,” he grunts.

Yes, you do. But there isn’t much time to beg. You have two huge cocks in you and if he thinks he can coax some sort of plea- 

“Fuck,” you cry as he spanks you again. 

“ASK!” he roars, hands on your back just to make it crack all over again.

Drooling, whimpering, eyes rolling, you somehow find it in you to hold back your orgasm long enough to beg, “Please, fuck, just let me cum! Please, please, Namjoon!” 

“Just fucking let her cum,” Taehyung grunts. 

Namjoon snakes one of his hands up your spine, hips still ramming into you all the same, and latching onto your hair. Slowly, he peels you off of Taehyung and holds you against his chest. You screw your eyes shut in an attempt not to cream both their cocks. 

With his lips at your ear, he whispers, “Look down at him.” After forcing your eyes open and down at Taehyung, who looks all too pleased with your ruined state, Namjoon orders, “Thank him for a good time.”

Panting, lips a spitty mess, you whimper, “Thank you for a good time.” 

Taehyung rubs your thighs. “She’s just as fun when she’s a good girl,” he hisses to himself. 

Namjoon chuckles, wrapping his free hand around your throat. “You’re my best girl either way,” he whispers to you. The praise makes you shiver, your orgasm almost slipping right out of your control. 

“Please let me cum now,” you cry. “Please, I need it.” 

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Namjoon peppers little kisses along your jawline. “Shall we all cum together?” he asks before nodding to Taehyung. The sun god’s hips jolt back to act and soon each one is back to taking turns to smash your already too sensitive spot. 

You nod energetically. Truthfully, you don’t care if either one of them cums, just as long as they let you do it now. 

Taehyung shifts one of his hands further up your hips, his thumb working fast and small circles over your clit. You’re quaking, head thrown back against Namjoon’s shoulders, eyes rolling and screwed shut when Namjoon orders you to look at him. You force them open enough to watch a wicked swirl of power and lust gleam in his eyes. With a single breath, lips hovering over yours, he whispers, “Cum.”

Your vision spots black before failing all together as an extreme dose of ecstasy floods your senses. Their growls collide with your breathless screams in a cacophony of pleasure with each shot of cum they fill you with. And you return the favour, coating each cock with more cum than you think you’ve ever offered. In and out, they still go, desperate to leave you dripping with the impression of both of them for days. 

Namjoon spits in your mouth a bit and chuckles quietly when you still find it in you to swallow it. “You just had to be a fucking brat, hmm?” he groans as both his and Taehyung’s thrusts slow down. “Are you satisfied now?”

You hear his words and think that maybe you are processing them, but you really can’t find enough of your voice or energy to respond. Heaving, you know your body gave out well before he even got you in this position and blew your back out. You don’t even realize that you’re slobbering all over yourself until Namjoon licks it all away. Only little whimpers and whines manage to reply to him. It only strengthens that power blown look in his eyes. 

Taehyung suddenly pulls himself out of you. Or rather, Namjoon pulls you up and off his cock. Then, he stands up on his knees and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, despite Namjoon’s annoyed groan. “And thank you for such a great evening, my-”

“She’s not yours!”

You watch through somewhat blurry vision as the two gods glare at each other. Taehyung then glances over at the fig vines laced around the orange tree. With a smirk, he nods. His hands fondle your breast one more time before he grabs what little clothes he came with. Then, with the sun, he’s gone. 

Basking in the glow of the moon, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you. His touches are now all too gentle to even register, or maybe your skin is simply still on fire from such a rough fucking. Either way, he’s careful in how he handles you now. Cradling you to his chest, he helps you lay down. He kisses your forehead and mutters, “Take a deep breath.” 

You do so. Again and again. When you’re breathing somewhat regulates, your mind finally catches up with where you are now. Resting in Namjoon’s arms, his silk skirt draped over your body like a blanket, you gaze up at the stars. 

“He planted figs,” Namjoon mutters.

You shift against his chest before shrugging. “He did.” You’re not sure why that simple detail seems to tick him off so much. They’re just figs. 

“Do you still like oranges though?”

It suddenly clicks in your head. His anger translating into worry. Does he really think that you’d give him up for Taehyung? He should know you well enough to know he’s your world. And if you weren’t so sore or weak, you would have gotten up and picked the ripest orange and shared it with him. Instead, you turn in his lap, suppressing the urge to hiss at the sparks of pain running up and down your back, and press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“I love oranges.” 

He fights off a smile, but relief reflects in his gaze. “I’m sure they love you too,” he mutters like he hasn’t told you so before. 

It all doesn’t matter too much anyways. He’s yours and you’re his. No other god, no matter how many times they stop by, will change that. This is, after all, your orange tree. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[amphxtrite]

george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), swearing, spelling/grammar mistakes.

do not read if you are not comfortable.

summary: When the twins and the reader move into their new apartment in Diagon Alley, you finally confess to George about the feelings you’ve accumulated through the years, which eventually leads to more.

a/n: This was request from anonymous for a george weasley x reader, first time smut, thank you for requesting, I had a lot of fun writing this!

word count: 4k

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

“Give her hell from us Peeves!” Three voices cry before soaring away into the clear blue sky.

Everyone knows of the Golden Trio, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. The students who disobeyed every rule, every year to save the wizarding world.

In the Hogwarts walls there was another group of students, while not as heroic, were just as well known. George Weasley, Fred Weasley and Y/n L/n were the notorious pranksters of the school. You couldn’t walk ten feet without someone being a victim of their work. For years, the school was their playground, pranks ranging from covering students in feathers, slipping belch-powder in professors’ tea and making products of their own that would take the world by storm in the years to come.

Every student at Hogwarts knew their group by name, swiveling heads in alertness when one of your voices was about, or running the opposite way when a familiar laugh rang out. There was never one without the others, so when your grand scheme of fireworks and sparks flew through the air, no one was surprised to see three brooms zipping about, accompanied by laughter and the screams of the pink toad who had terrorized the school of magic. Your names would go down in history among the students and as you zipped away through the clouds, a giant ‘W’ in your wake. The joyous feeling of freedom breaks free and you join the twins in the life you’d been dreaming about since you met the two in your first year, and away from the hell you’d endured.

With the help of Harry’s generous donation, the three of you set up shop in Diagon Alley, making the most bizarre and far-out designs the three of you could think of. Working long and hard to perfect each and every one of your products for your grand opening in a couple months.

The three of you spent most of your time in the apartment above the shop, concocting your brews and relishing in the new-found freedom you had taken for yourselves. The three of you worked, laughed, high-fived and dusted each other off after bad days, you grew even closer to the twins and with the new atmosphere and life, and feelings you’d accumulated through the years came about that had your stomach erupt in butterflies around your best friend.

If you were to ask anyone in Hogwarts about the mischief trio, first you’d see their head swivel and panic cross their eyes, next they’d tell you. While you were all close and the twins were practically connected at the hip, George Weasley and Y/n L/n had an unspoken ‘thing’ between them, and it was quite obvious to everyone, but them, and although cliché it was one of the castle’s favourite subjects for drama.

While oblivious to the gossip, George had fancied you since the moment he met you in first year. Watching your eyes light up at him and his twins’ antics and then showing them some tricks of your own. He must’ve been blushing beet-red because at that moment he fell. He fell for your sarcastic remarks, your love for books and muggle movies, he fell for the way your nose scrunched when you were concentrating and the way your eyes lit up whenever it snowed. George could go on for hours about all the things he loved about you, but actually telling you was a whole other story. You were such a positive, bubbly person, he could hardly tell the difference between a romantic or platonic action. Did you mean to brush his hand like that? Was that little smirk for a reason? Did you know what you did to him when you bit your lip like that? Or when you walked with a little more swing in your hips.

George wanted nothing more than to wrap you into his arms and hold you close against him, murmuring every moment he fell in love with you into your ear, listening to your heartbeat and pressing kisses across your temple, but at the same time he wanted to make you squirm beneath him, make you scream his name and take away your ability to walk, leave his mark across your skin and taste you. He just wished he had a hint to how you really felt about him.

“Oi, George! Get down here, we need some help with this stand!” Fred’s familiar shout shakes the daydreaming red-head out of his daze, cutting his thought of you short.

“Alright ya twat, no need to yell!” George huffs, speeding down the stairs to the shop area and walking towards you and Fred.

“How can I be of assistance, my dear brother.” George smirks as he approaches. “Well this stand won’t fit in between the other displays, we just need help pushing it in.” You shrug, jabbing your thumb towards the empty display stand.

George claps his hands together and the three of you get to work. You did your best to pry one of the displays to the side while the twins push the stand into place. Everything was going well, you made great progress and the display case was starting to slide in. It wasn’t until the twins gave a final heave, that you lost focus, your eyes dropping to a certain twin’s toned bicep, peeking out from his skin tight shirt, and you failed to remove your finger from the crevice.

“Bloody Hell!” You cry as your fingers are crushed in the closed space. Quickly yanking your digits out of the gap, you hold them close to your chest, you double over in pain. “Fuck, that hurt.” You groan, examining your fingers to be lightly scratched and bruised. 

George can only just register your pained yelp before he’s fussing all over you just like his mother would. “Oh my goodness, are you alright love? I left my wand in my room, come on, I’ll fix you right up.” George gently takes your arm and hurries up the stairs leaving a confused Fred behind. 

“Hey it’s alright Georgie, it’s just a small cut!” You try to reason with the persistent ginger, but George doesn’t let go. “Nonsense darling, your finger is bleeding, I’ll heal it in no time.” He continues, sitting you on his bed as he picks up with wand from his bedside drawer and takes a seat next to you.

You extend your hands to George and without a beat he murmurs the healing spell. “Episkey.”

Your cuts begin to close and the bruises fade away, leaving no pain and no sign of injury. “Thanks George, you’re the best!” You giggle wrapping your arms around the tall Weasley and inching closer to him.

It had become something of a tradition for the two of you to heal each other if one of you were to get hurt back in school. Whether you’d scraped a knee or had come to the other bearing Umbridge’s scar, you’d done your best to help one another, learning new healing spells for this specific reason. 

A smile spreads across your cheek as you think back to the days you’d run to George with a burn or a cut, only coming to peace once he’d had a go at it, or at least wrapped it in a bandage.

“Do yo remember, back in Hogwarts, when we’d come to each other just to heal our little wounds.” You pull back from the hug and take George’s hand in yours. 

“Of course darling, how could I forget.” George grins, reminiscing of the days not so long ago. 

Back in your days with the pink toad, George would be the first person you’d run to after detention, small sobs racking through you as you showed George the first of many scratches in the back of your hand. 

‘I must not laugh in class’ 

George had helped you reduce it to a pink scar, but the pain remained with you for long after as the memories of that horrid quill raked your brain.

George was always your comfort, he’d stuck by your side and was there for you when you needed it the most. Long nights of star-gazing, studying, planning and laughing had also helped you come to terms with the love bubbling inside you for George Weasley.

“Thank you for everything, back in school I mean.” You sigh, leaning onto George’s broad shoulder, a light smile gracing your face.

“There’s no need to thank me love, if anything I should be thanking you for saving me from detentions.” George smirks, wrapping an arm around you. You begin to laugh a bit as you think back to when you’d trick filch into leaving his post before pulling the red-head through the long halls. 

“Feels like so long ago.” You murmur and look up towards George, finding him already gazing back at you. “Last time you did it was only a year ago love.” The younger twin smiles, leaning closer.

Your eyebrows knit together and your face heats up at the sudden closeness and a question that has plagued your mind for years spills from your lips. 

“Not to be nosy, but why do you always call me darling or love, Georgie?” 

This was it, George’s thoughts began to race. This was the moment he could finally confess to you, finally know how you felt about him. 

His lips turn up into a huge smile, as he pulls you closer to him and looks down for a moment, gathering courage. 

“Y/n, I’ve fancied you since the moment I saw you on the train. You immediately caught my attention, but once I really got to know you, I knew that I was done for. You’re so funny, beautiful and absolutely perfect, but you’ve never really showed me you fancied me and-” George pauses for a moment, trying to pick his words right. “Well, I just want to know how you feel.” He simply states, looking deep into your mesmerizing e/c eyes. 

Your smile widens as George finishes his confession, and tackling the red-head onto the bed you hug him tight against you. 

“I fancy you too idiot! Why else do you think I’d only go to you for my scars and bruises, why I’d save you from detention all those times, I’ve fallen in love with you!” A melodic laugh rings from your lips as George wraps his arms around you with a hearty chuckle, pressing kissing on your head just like he’d dreamed of doing. 

Rolling the two of you over, George now on top, the blushing ginger admires your laughing form beneath him. You were positively angelic and he couldn’t help himself from what came next.

George leans down and captures your lips in his, snaking his arm up to hold your hand against the mattress while the other cups your face. The kiss is chaste at first as George familiarizes himself with your lips, truth be told he hadn’t had his first kiss yet, only daydreamed of doing it with you. Now, with your lips finally against his, he wanted it to be perfect.

Running his tongue against your bottom lip, George wordlessly asks for permission to deepen the kiss, nipping lightly on your soft pink lips. Parting your lips you allow George to run his tongue around your mouth, as your teeth clash and your tongues swirl around each other. 

George eventually pulls away to catch his breath, never letting go of your hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that love.” the prankster smiles, pressing a small kiss to your nose. 

“Oh I can imagine, especially with that pressure on my thigh.” Your eyebrow raises in a teasing tone as George goes a brilliant shade of scarlet, his freckles seemingly disappearing under the dark hue. 

“I- uh, I’m sorry. It’s just-” George begins to ramble, trying his best to explain himself to no avail. 

A small smirk plays on your lips as you capture George’s lips into a loving kiss again. 

“It’s alright Georgie, I want this too.” You sigh onto the gryffindor’s lips, circling your hips around underneath him.

George lets out a low moan at your action, squeezing your hand and looking back into your eyes, pupils dilated and dark with lust. “I’ve never done this before.” You admit, running a finger up and down George’s side, glancing down at his lip caught in between his teeth. 

“I haven’t either, but I’ve imagined doing this with you before.” George shrugs, removing his hand from your cheek and placing it on the waistband of your shorts. “That makes two of us.” You tease, running your free hand up the beater’s toned chest. 

George doesn’t hesitate to crash his lips onto yours again, rolling his hips against you. Your mouth parts enough for him to slip his tongue past your lips again and explore every inch of your opening as his hand pulls the waistband of your shorts down your thighs before promptly flicking them to the floor. George uses his long digits to tease your clit through your panties as he kisses down your jaw and collarbone nipping and sucking, leaving a path of pink marks down your upper chest. “So wet for me already love?” He smirks as his fingers find the soaked patch on your heat, eyes darkening as he pushes harder against your clit.

“Yes George, f-fuck, right there.” You plead softly as George continues to ravage your clit, hitting the sensitive bud perfectly and sending waves of pleasure through your being. The gryffindor obliges, rubbing your heat faster and harder as your eyes shut and your head falls back against the soft pillows, allowing George access to your neck, sucking dark hickeys onto your skin as you writhe beneath him from the stimulation from his fingers and lips were granting. 

Slowly inching your fingers up, you pull the beater’s shirt up to his chest, motioning him to take it off as your fingers move lower to the waistband of his trousers. George removes his fingers from your panties to teasingly pull off his shirt, sitting up a bit to show off his toned abdomen, taking his sweet time to throw the shirt aside and fix up his short hair, sending a wink down at you. 

Your hands seem to gain a consciousness of their own, slowly tracing down each muscle, drawing dangerously low before George leans down to push your shirt up your chest. Raising your arms, your shirt joins George’s on the floor. “You’re absolutely stunning love.” George praises as he reaches behind your body to unclasp your black bra, quickly throwing it away and pressing kisses across your breasts. 

You begin to run your hands up the toned red-heads chest when he takes hold of your hands and pins them above your head against the soft cushion, his grip soft, but firm, unabling you to move despite how hard you squirmed. 

“Don’t bother darling, now stay still like a good girl.” George smirks, lust evident in his low rasp as he kisses down your naked chest, swirling his tongue around your nipples and massaging them with his calloused hand. Your attempts to escape George’s grasp are forgotten as his teeth begin to nibble on your sensitive buds. Head falling back between your arms, you arch your back against George, silently begging for more. George grins into your skins and pulls back to admire your pleading form, reaching down to undo his belt with a small fumble, eventually pulling his trousers and briefs down completely. Your eyes fly open at the feeling of George’s hard cock brushing up against your inner thigh as George’s dark, brown eyes display a playfulness as he teases his tip against your clothed core. 

You begin to struggle against George’s grip again, wanting to take his throbbing length into your mouth and make him beg beneath you. Unfortunately, George has different plans and his clutch stays firm. 

“Ah ah ah, just let me make you feel good y/n, save that for another time.” George purrs, hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down your legs. Your arms grow limp as George uses his hand to spread your thighs apart and place himself between your thighs. Right in front of where you needed him most. “Please don’t tease me anymore George, I-I need you.” You beg shakily, desperately rolling your hips to gain any friction, your timid demeanor being overthrown by overstimulation and need. 

“Patience darling, you’ll get me I promise.” George smirks, closing the space between you to press another heated kiss to your lips and continuing to coat himself in your slick, sliding himself up and down. Bringing his free hand to your clit again, George pushes his thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves, swirling it around with a light pressure, swallowing your loud moans into the kiss. Once you were squirming beneath him again, back arched and hips thrusting up for more, he finally begins to push himself into your soaked core.

A feeling of ecstasy and satisfaction runs through your veins, bringing a whole new feeling of pleasure and clouding all your senses as George pushes deeper into you, awakening an intoxicating new feeling you could get addicted too.

George pauses for a moment, pulling away from the kiss for a moment to check in on how you were. Your eyes are shut, your mouth agape in a small ‘o’ and with the loss of his lips, desperate moans spill past your lips, mixing beautifully with George’s name. 

The toned red-head begins to thrust in and out, incoherent groans falling from his lips as your core clenches around him and your hips buck up to greet him. Picking up the pace. You cry out George’s name over and over again as he continues to snap his hips in and out of you, your body growing limp and your eyes rolling into the back of your head with each thrust. George continues to pound deep into you using all his strength to go deeper and harder, reintroducing his fingers to stroke your clit as he desperately swirls and thrusts his hips. 

“Fuck, you make me feel so good darling.” George growls against your ear, peppering kisses to your jaw and burying his face into your neck to try and stifle his loud moans. 

With George whispering sinful praises into your ear you can feel a knot tighten in your lower stomach, and your hips begin to buck again and again, begging for release. “Oh fuck George, d-don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.” You mewl breathily.

George, fueled by your moans pushes himself even more, thrusting and swirling his hips until he feels your core clench deliciously against him and your shaky moan cry out.

As your coil snaps, spots flood your vision and your body tenses as shockwaves of euphoria shake your body and your hands beg to grip onto something, cries of pleasure mix with the sound of George’s skin hitting yours as the beater continues to snap his hips into your throbbing core, his cock twitching and pulsing deep inside you as you ride out your orgasm and his release builds up. 

George throws your leg over his shoulder in a desperate action for release, using the new angle to push deeper into you and feeling your core contracts to grip his cock, driving him absolutely insane. 

“Oh my Godric, George you make me feel so fucking good, please let me help you.” You look up to your constricted hands and back into George’s dark orbs, pleading with him to release you. 

George gives a couple more lazy thrusts before he releases your hands and pulls himself out of you. Despite your legs being unsteady, you lay George’s head down on the other end of the bed and begin to kiss down his sweat stained body, slowly making your way down his long body.

Licking a stripe from the base to the tip of his cock, you slowly take George’s length into your mouth, swirling the pulsing tip around your tongue and hollowing your cheeks before going deeper. George’s eyes shut once again as you take him, burying his fingers into your hair and helping you to guide your lips down. Taking what you can’t fit into your hands you start to bob your head up and down, using your lips and hands together as you lick and suck at the sensitive skin. George begins to spew profanities and buck his hips into your mouth, pulling your hair up and down a little more forcefully as you begin to gag lightly. George continues to buck and moan, your name being sobbed from George’s lips as he feels his orgasm taking over him and hot cum floods your mouth. You try your best to swallow every drop, only a couple beads sliding down your chin as you lift your head from George’s length. 

“God you look so gorgeous with my cum dripping down your face.” George smirks pulling you onto his bare chest and kissing down your cheek. Your only response is a blush as George continues to stare down at you as if you were his last meal, drinking in all of your post-sex features. Messy hair, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and swollen lips. Sighing, he pushes those thoughts away as he pulls you up to see him face to face. 

“That was amazing love, thank you.” George grins, pulling you against his chest and playing with your soft hair.

“Of course Georgie, but Merlin my legs are sore.” You groan into George’s chest as his chest vibrates with a chuckle. 

“I’m afraid Episkey won’t cut it for that darling.” The red-head prankster teases, reaching down to caress your legs lightly. “That’s too bad, have you got any other remedies?” You joke, wrapping your arms around George’s torso, a smile growing on your lips. 

“Just lay here with me darling, Relax.” George sighs, pulling back to gaze into your eyes again with a growing smile. “Sounds good.” You respond, a small yawn falling from your lips.

“I-I love you y/n, I’ve fallen in love with you so many times over the years and the fact I still haven’t asked you this question yet is killing me, would you be my girl? Please?” George pouts, giving you his best puppy eyes as you giggle and cuddle closer to his chest. 

“I’d love nothing more, my love.” You sigh happily as George’s eyes light up and he peppers your face with butterfly kisses.

“Next time the two of you shag, at least put a silencing charm over the room!” A disgusted shout, causes the two of your to flinch. “Sorry, Fred!” You laugh at the older twin’s plea and turn back to your love. “Guess we were a bit loud, weren’t we?” You tease.

“Me? Oh no darling, that was all you.” George smirks. “And who’s fault was that?” You reason, pressing a gentle kiss to George’s lips once again. 

“All mine, I can say that with honor.” The red-head smiles victoriously and pulls you against him again with a chuckle.

“Godric, I can still hear you!” Fred’s annoyed scream rings through the room again.

The two of you only laugh at Fred’s interjection, too busy staring into each other’s eyes to care. The two of you had come so far, from pulling pranks in the Hogwarts halls, running to each other for a spell you could easily perform when you were hurt, to moving into the same apartment to follow your dreams and making love to each other after your confessions of love. You’d only dreamed of being able to hold the boy who’d stolen your heart with each Episkey and prank, and here you are lying in his arms with love bites scattered across your chest and legs too tired to move, slowly drifting to sleep as all your dreams came true.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Powerful Ch. 3

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: This took too damn long but here we are. Definitely coming out with another part or two, but the next one is gonna start at a huge timeskip so yeah. That'll be fun.

Anywho, Enjoy~

For Reference, this is the dress I describe in here.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

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For your second night with Shouta you find yourself lost in thought, staring out at the stars. The stress from before the meeting never disappeared, only delayed. Now it’s all catching up, and your brain is struggling to sort everything out.

Shouta could be on the receiving end of some very misogynistic and traditional clans’ anger very soon. You’re relieved that your future husband is nothing like them, but the backlash he could be getting just by bringing you to a meeting so soon after the announcement is frightening, not to mention some irrational clans may decide to split off and find a rival Yakuza to adopt them. Even so, that’s probably the worst of the outcomes. It’s unlikely you’ll have to worry about either of your safety, though there is still a small chance.

For the second time Shouta wraps his arms around you, surrounding you with his scent and body heat.

“I hope this won’t become a habit, little one.” He presses his cheek to the side of your head, kissing your temple gently. His presence is calming, helps your overactive brain slow down.

“I just needed space to think.” He hums, the sound reverberating through your body.

“What could you be thinking about so late at night?” You don’t really want to tell him, but you figured it’s better than keeping it all in.

“I just worry about the backlash you’ll be getting after the meeting today. This organization is a traditional one, and women have always been kept away from the violent and criminal side of it for centuries. To suddenly name an onna-oyabun, and a woman that previously held a low rank at that, you’re bound to feel some sort of repercussions.” He squeezes you gently, kisses your temple again.

“That’s what you’re worrying your pretty head about? I’ll be fine, little one. Let’s go to bed.” He’s right, you suppose. There isn’t a lot that can affect him or his position, so there isn’t a lot you need to worry about. You nod, taking your weight off of him to go back to the room. You’re a little surprised when he picks you up again, scoops you off your feet and carries you to bed. He tugs you into him just the same as the night before, and once again you fall asleep to the soft thrum of his heart.

The next morning you’re woken by Shouta again. This time you don’t immediately pull away, instead choosing to bask in his embrace a few moments longer. It feels like you’ve known Shouta for years rather than hours, having seen some of the most intimate and private parts of him, and all you want to do is dig deeper. But of course, there’s time for that later.

“Come on, little one. It’s time to wake up. We’re going to see your parents today, and then we’ve got another meeting to attend.” You hum lightly then push off of him, taking a glance at his handsome face before getting out of bed to prepare for the day. You choose a dress you hadn’t worn in a while, one that felt like it would fit today’s events, a flowing black sundress with a halter neckline. Simple black heels pair nicely with it, as well as a small black clutch purse.

You aren’t anxious about Shouta meeting your parents. They aren’t as traditional as most, ideals and views closer to Shouta’s. All parties involved gave their bows in greeting, even Shouta, and brunch went by without a hitch. It wasn’t the usual cringey romcom scene where the parents ask ‘why do you love our daughter’. In fact, they know that the marriage is strategic. Of course, Shouta had made his thoughts clear, that he intends to ensure the union is enjoyable for the both of you. His honesty made a small smile worm its way onto your face, though you managed to hide it well enough.

Soon you’re on the road again, en route to the second meeting. You aren’t too surprised that Shouta already has two scheduled meetings back-to-back after the gala, he is a busy man after all.

The venue is another restaurant, this one not quite as high-end but just as beautiful, the entire massive building shaped like a circle and a koi pond around the perimeter. A bridge is all that connects the sidewalk with the building. You and Shouta are guided through by a host, and out a back door where another bridge connects to a separate island in the extended pond, the structure enclosed with sheer beige curtains.

Again, conversation abruptly stops when you enter. You’ll have to get used to it, you suppose. You sit, and the meeting begins. The subject is mostly territory disputes, bargaining for territory extensions or swaps with the others, all of them trying to work out strategies that benefit not only themselves but other clans as well. You keep silent throughout, listening carefully and learning, taking information and analyzing it. There must be someone Shouta doesn’t like in the meeting, because when the most important details are worked through, he excuses himself to the restroom once again.

You wonder, briefly, why he’d choose to play the same trick a second time in a row. If he does it too often his plan would become transparent, though one could argue not doing it enough would be just as easy to read. You don’t know how often he excuses himself from these meetings, so you decide to leave it in his hands.

Fortunately for you, it would seem no man here is willing to speak about your presence. It’s been almost ten minutes and none of them has said a word to or about you, choosing instead to discuss territories a bit further. Though you were beginning to question why Shouta hadn’t yet returned. Surely one would get suspicious, and one did, glancing toward the main building. It was then you all shifted your attention to Shouta, who stood at the opposite end of the bridge speaking into his phone. So that’s why he’s taking so long.

And unfortunately, that meant these men were relatively safe.

“So what’s the woman doing here?” It was barely a whisper, but you could hear it even over the sounds of the pond. A glance up shows the blonde to your right had leaned over to the man next to him. He’s much younger than the man from yesterday, maybe in his mid-late twenties, his hair clearly not natural. The one he’d whispered to flicked his gaze up, catching your own, and shouldered the blonde who subsequently looked to you. He cracks a cheeky smile, a poor attempt to cover himself really.

“Ah, Onna-oyabun, it’s good to finally see the Black Dragon’s wife-to-be.” It would seem news travels fast, and the blonde is much less bold than the older man. You crack your own smile, a sickly sweet show of teeth that hid a venomous bite.

“The woman has a name. Please, do not be afraid to use it in discussion. And I will tell you exactly what I told the previous oyabun who questioned my presence. I am here because Shouta wants me to be.” His smile doesn’t falter, but his eye visibly twitches at your response. It’s almost amusing to see his composure slip. It’s less amusing when he glances back to where Shouta is still on the phone.

“With all due respect I’m not afraid, I simply do not feel the need. And my question was not directed at you, but at my associate here.” He loops an arm over the shoulder of the man he’d asked, the dark-haired man wide-eyed and nervous. You aren’t sure how to answer his quip without rising tension, but Shouta made it clear you’re to be commanding a room just as he does, so you choose to strike a nerve and stir the pot. For added effect you let your face drop into a deadpan, tilt your chin up just a hair and glare.

“Most would feel it necessary to use a person’s name or title when discussing anything regarding them, especially in their presence. Therefore I can’t help but feel you may not have any respect for me when you clearly should.” You could see the muscles in his jaw clench as he ground his teeth, his nostrils flaring with his anger. You nearly let a smile crawl onto your face at the satisfaction of knowing you’d angered an asshole like him with only your words.

“Maybe I don’t respect you. What are you going to do about it?” The man still under his arm stiffens, a hand slapping the blonde’s chest, his eyes locked on the entrance to the room. Shouta stands there, but the blonde seems to either not notice or not care. You aren’t given time to answer his rhetorical question.

“Nothing. You can’t do a thing about it, because you hold no power over me.” He’s elbowed this time, the dark-haired man trying harder to get the blonde’s attention off of you and onto the man he should be fearing right about now. To be fair, Shouta stands almost behind the blonde, who sits to your right, so it isn’t hard to believe he doesn’t see him. You just let him dig his own grave.

“And you hold no power over me because you’re a woman. A woman out of her place and on the wrong side of business, let alone holding a rank much lower than mine.” The man beneath the blonde’s arm had given up, choosing to bow his head down and stay silent. It’s Shouta who speaks next.

“I believe it’s you who holds a much lower rank than her.” The blonde’s face goes pale, his shit-eating grin dropping faster than a sinking stone.

“In case you hadn’t heard the news yet I’ve assigned her a title, and I expect you to use it. She may have asked you to use her name, but you should address her as Onna-oyabun any time she is brought up in discussion, regardless of whether or not either of us are present.” He strides up behind you and places a hand on your bare shoulder, just like yesterday. You can’t help but feel his positioning is on purpose, physically placing you in front of him.

“Are you ready to go, little one?” You nod, rising from your seat and taking a small bow signaling your leave. Shouta lets a hand rest on your lower back, guiding you out, but you overhear the same blonde whisper under his breath. You’re definitely not meant to hear it.

“The Dragon can’t always be around to save you, brat.” You both freeze in your tracks, Shouta’s eyes wide and nostrils flaring with anger. Before he can turn to react you lean in and whisper in his ear.

“My turn.” He raises an eyebrow at you, then nods, crossing his amrs and leaning against the beam at the entrance. You pivot, pinning the blonde in place with a glare. If looks could kill, he’d be in a casket. Slowly, you begin a steady pace around the table.

“I do not rely on Shouta to help me in these situations. In fact, I could just as easily take a piece of your tongue myself.” You’re on the opposite side of the table now, still taking long, slow strides and glaring down at the man.

“But it is so glaringly obvious that you lack the same level of intelligence I hold, and therefore I would feel guilty to rob you of a muscle that you clearly haven’t learned to use properly,” you stop, standing stock still behind the blonde, “However.” In one swift movement your dagger is stuck in the wooden table directly in front of the blonde, your manicured fingers curled around the handle delicately.

“Should I hear another demeaning or degrading word out of your mouth, I will not hesitate to stain my fingers with your blood.” He doesn’t seem to be reacting at all, whether he’s afraid or not you can’t tell, but you don’t let that affect your performance. You lean in, your lips nearly grazing the shell of his ear.

“You probably wouldn’t even get to taste my blade, but I don’t mind taking my time if you want to savor the tang of steel.” You yank the blade from the wood and sheath it, straightening your posture.

“Had Shouta chosen another woman for his wife you may have been able to actually hurt her feelings with your childish words.” You turn, striding back to where Shouta holds his hand for you to take.

“Unluckily for you, I’m just as volatile as my other half. Be grateful that either of us are merciful. You get to keep your tongue. For now.” It’s cathartic, letting out your anger like that. It’s unlikely that the threat will get you any sort of respect, but fear works just as well in your favor. Respect is something hard to find and even harder earned as a woman in a man’s world, but fear works better against an enemy that dreads change. You can’t help but smirk as you walk away from the chaos you left behind, and as you glance up you see the faintest smirk worming its way onto Shouta’s face.

____

His chest swells with something akin to pride as he waltzes away from the restaurant. He was wrong to assume you were averse to violence, had taken your level-headedness and cool temperament to mean you are not a violent individual. To assume you were either incapable of violence or unable to handle the intensity was obviously a mistake on his part. Watching the blonde freeze up and pale under your hard gaze was extremely satisfying, and he had to admit seeing such controlled rage and sharp words pour from you was enjoyable and, among other things, wildly attractive.

Shouta thinks he should let you handle these situations more often, let you have your fun, maybe even plot to have you purposely go just a little too far and have him reel you back in. Maybe then people may start to understand that you aren’t to be treated lightly, you aren’t just a means to an end, just a glorified housewife. No, you’re much more than that and if it takes bloodied words and bloodier actions to get it through some thick skulls, well, he’s sure you know he’s willing to go there and farther.

But for now, he’d settle with the occasional threat of taking a body part.

____

Once again you stare out at the stars, thinking about the day’s events. You’re almost bouncing on your feet, adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You feel light now, knowing you can take control of an escalating situation. Whether or not you can do it all on your own isn’t a real question. Of course you could do it without Shouta present. His existence alone is enough to ward off any violence directed at you. But it’s your own actions that determine how people will perceive you.

You let Shouta control the first meeting incident, mostly because you had no clue what was going on and no information to work from. Now that you know Shouta is listening and that there’s a purpose behind his absence, you can use it to your advantage and weed out the worst of the bad apples. With that information, and confidence that Shouta will not reprimand you--but will in fact support you--for getting mouthy with said bad apples, you could let loose some of the rage that made your blood boil. It’s freeing, taking entitled men off their precious pedestals and knocking them down a bit.

Shouta wraps his arms around you for the third time, burying his face in your neck and breathing in your scent. He kisses you lightly, feather light presses of his lips against your skin. It really does feel good, being so close to someone.

“I thought this wasn’t becoming a habit.” You sigh and lean into him.

“I’m not quite tired. Honestly I’m thinking about today. I’m still on an adrenaline high just replaying it in my head, the thrill, being able to finally get a word in.” He chuckles, squeezing you a bit tighter to him.

“I’m going to assume you’d never really been allowed to do that sort of thing before.” You nod, a small smile curling your lips. Up until now you lacked any sort of standing or power, and the rush is amazing, for lack of better words. Shouta hums then nips at the shell of your ear, his voice sultry and deep.

“Well if you’re looking to burn energy I think I could help you with that.” Your breath hitches, not prepared for such a suggestion. For a second you believe it, believe he’s really suggesting what you think he is, but you can feel his hands moving and before you can react he’s digging his fingers into your sides, making you giggle uncontrollably.

He’s laughing with you, enjoying watching you try to squirm from his grasp. He releases you, and you run over to the bedroom and duck under the blanket in an attempt to hide, but he only laughs.

“You silly girl, now you’re trapped!” He finds your waist through the thick blanket and doesn’t relent until you’re gasping for air and crying for mercy. He stops, finally, and pulls the blanket off your head. Your face is flushed, your hair splayed wild over the sheets and your chest heaving for oxygen. For a moment his mind drifts to dirtier thoughts of a similar expression he’d like to see. He pushes those thoughts away as you beam up at him, your smile reminding him of sunshine. Rough fingers brush away the hair that had fallen over your face.

“Are you ready to try sleeping now, little one?” You lean your head into his hand, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. The way he’s gazing down at you now, you know you’d never felt so adored in your life.

“Let’s sleep.” He lies down and you get comfortable on top of him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and wrapping your leg around his waist. His arms lock around you, holding you in place and he kisses the top of your head.

[shieldofrohan]

I don't think GRRM explores the flaws in Arya's characterisation rather he explores how the world is unfair to her. Whenever I read Jon, Sansa, Dany , Robb and Bran, I feel they behave as their age requires them to be. They show capabilities yet are not exempted from bad choices which a character at their age can easily commit. With Arya, sometimes it feels like I am not reading a 11 year old kid but a grown up 25 year old woman who never messes up things or has any characterisation flaws which are not inherent within like the other child characters but those failings are primarily influenced by the society.

Hello Anon,

I have to agree and disagree with you.

I agree with that Martin writes Jon, Sansa and Dany better- MUCH BETTER.

I am obviously not a Daenerys fan but I enjoyed her character more than I did with Arya. I said it many times but I am going to say it again: Daenerys is the best written character in the series. She is much more interesting villain than man-pain Tyrion [looking at you Martin.. really, Tyrion?].

Objectively I find her character well written and interesting. But my problem with her is that her cult like fans who completely ignore her true position and characterization in the books. Hopefully in the future people will enjoy Dany character for the right reasons.

I felt like I need to explain my thoughts about Dany first to show my problems with the way of Arya was written by the author.

Arya is the WORST written main character. TRULY. Everything about her is so FAKE/FORCED/CLICHE/UNREALISTIC…

Author says that Arya is the underdog/outcast of the family. Does the writing show this?

NO!

She is literally her father's favorite child. We see Ned constantly favoring her, letting her do what she likes, he never scolds her, he makes time to talk with her about her traumas like losing a friend, he fcking finds a Water Dancer for her [but not a harp teacher for Sansa]. I have a great dad but jeez, even he never showed me this kind of devotion.

Catelyn seems like she knows her daughter well… we don’t see her abusing or ignoring her. She even acknowledges her struggles.

Her siblings love her. Even Sansa tries to keep include her into her own circle to enjoy things together, she covers for her against Septa Mordane.

As we can see, she seems doing fine as a tomboy girl in the family of 5 men/boys and 2 women/girls.

BUT SHE COULDN’T SEW SO SHE WAS BEING ABUSED.

Really? Wow she must be the only special snowflake who wasn’t good at sewing. I am sure rest of the girls in North were all experts. Arya is the only one who lacks some skill people and it made her super sad.

Fans tried to paint this as some "omg anti-feminism/sexism in society" thing and it feels absurd because Arya was bad at history and heraldy too..

A tomboy is not good at some female-coded skill is so fcking cliche for character building and I am not buying it. And this is BAD/LAZY WRITING.

Did Martin try to make her look like an underdog with this??

Well Sansa is not good at math? I am sure she had bad days because of this too but we didn’t read it. If you ask me Sansa (girly girl) being bad at math (male-coded subject) was more sexist than sewing and Arya thing [considering Sansa was good at music and playing instruments which require math but whatever.]

Arya is an outcast because she is not like other girls… WOW, it has never been written before, how did George come up with this idea? Meanwhile we have girls like Mormont girls so obviously she is not the only "NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS MARY SUE".

Evil Mordane bullied poor Arya. Mordane is totally not good for her BUT Arya literally never listens HER TEACHER. I am not talking about her lack of skill in sewing. Arya simply NEVER listens anyone. She disobeys her septa, she declines QUEEN’s invitations rudely, she talks sh*t about CROWN PRINCE while princess is next to them.

Girly lessons like sewing weren’t the only lessons she was not into it…

Sansa would have known who he was, and the fat one too, but Arya had never taken much interest in titles and sigils. Whenever Septa Mordane had gone on about the history of this house and that house, she was inclined to drift and dream and wonder when the lesson would be done.

[ACOK; Arya VII]

She simply never cares about any lessons and she simply refuses to learn basic DECORUM. Yeah I am sorry that she had to learn things she didn’t want to but welcome to real world.

MY POINT IS: all these are so weak points to make her look like an outcast/underdog.

Don’t even let me start with Jeyne Poole calling her HORSERACE nonsense. I said it before so I repeat it: This feels so forced in the story considering Arya is the daughter of Warden of the North and Jeyne is some simple daughter of a simple man who works for Starks.

This is what author himself says about class system:

Q: What was the hardest thing in writing about such an alien world?

GRRM: The vast majority of fantasy is middle agey time wise, and he himself finds the period fascinating; glad to adopt it for novel writing - likes knights and castles and such. He objects to bad fantasy practice which adopts a time setting without accepting the culture - imposing 20th century values like the cheeky stableboy telling off the princess (in reality cheeky stableboy would lose his tongue - look what happend to Mycah); the class system was not just and ornament and these people truly belived in blood, and the rank and priviledge that came with "good" blood. [2006]

But Jeyne somehow had no fear when she was “bullying” a princess. Does this make sense to you or does it feel forced to make Arya look like a victim. And this bad writing keeps repeating itself while author writes Arya and when you realize this pattern you can’t unsee it and it ruins the books a little.

I wrote all these to explain what is ACTUALLY wrong with Arya as a character. I don’t blame Arya for the bad writing, I blame the author.

And I disagree with you a little when you said: "With Arya, sometimes it feels like I am not reading a 11 year old kid but a grown up 25 year old woman who never messes up things or has any characterisation flaws which are not inherent within like the other child characters but those failings are primarily influenced by the society.”

[I explained the her failings in society’s eyes part already.. that thing is a cliche and unrealistic writing]

I don’t agree with that reading Arya feels like reading an older woman. No it feels like reading a VERY UNREALISTIC AND DISTURBING CHILD. She totally makes mistakes:

Talking bad about prince in a room full of people, declining Queen’s invitations, not listening her septa and Sansa, making prince angry, hiding for 4 days while she should have gone to her father to deal with the mess so maybe Mycah and Lady wouldn’t be dead, attacking her sister, killing a stableboy, killing many other people, joining a assassin cult, killing a Black brother because she thinks she has the right etc..

She makes mistakes but we didn’t see her face any consequences. Will we see her face them?? When it comes to Arya I don’t trust GRRM. GRRM covers for her all the time. GRRM = Ned Stark. He favors her. I mean look at this:

Sansa saves Dontos who later molests her and he works for Baeslish who also molests her.

Arya saves Jaqen H’ghar and he turns out to be a Faceless Man who kills THREE people for her.

Sandor sexually assaults Sansa but not Arya [I am not saying he should!! But why is it always Sansa? Does the author punish Sansa for her beauty… ANSWER IS YES because I am done!]

Sansa trusts Joffrey and Cersei ends up the most hated character in the books [even author says she had a part in her father’s death and he is ok with fans hating her]

Meanwhile Arya’s spider senses tell her to not trust Roose Bolton or anyone etc.

Arya runs into people like Yoren or Harwin meanwhile Sansa… you got it.

Basically this is a simple case of author favoring a character and it happens in all books.

The only thing that indicates author knows she is not perfect is that him calling her a “psycho” or not disagreeing when fans call her a psycho [I know I usually make fun of this but actually this is not some good take about a child character especially if you say Starks- including Arya- are the heroes]

In conclusion: I think she is written terribly, she is the weakest part in the story and character building. I simply hate the way author deals with her character. I think she is not interesting. She turned out to be a very dark and disturbing child character and I have no idea what is GRRM trying to tell with her.

Thanks for the ask. Have a nice day.

[leamy-world]

Reaction to The Devil Judge (spoilers for ep. 9 & 10)

It’s been a while since i’ve last been on tumblr, but i got invested in this drama every week & the fandom’s analyses to not talk about it sometime! (Last time i was hooked, it was with Beyond Evil and i watched it by the time the finale already aired so i didn’t suffer from the weekly wait!)

So here i am, this is mainly self-indulgent with essay-long interpretations of some scenes in a totally random order, but i’d love to interact with whoever reads this if they want to react!

I’m sorry for the potential awkward phrasings, english is not my first language!

- The recap was nicely done and tied everything together, it made me realize so many things happened since the beginning! The repetition didn’t make me skip it, the narration was dynamic & fun.

- The ‘power display’ & threat Yohan showed to Soohyun (by lashing out at Juk Chang and strangling him, as proxy for Soohyun, in front of her while staring at her) were something …! She answered in the same fashion, passing by him saying she will ‘arrest Juk Chang’. I wonder how their next encounters will unfold.

- Many people already pointed this out, but Soohyun’s decision to leave Elijah, a minor, alone in her car (with its doors open, daring to tell her to stay there when she has no other choice anyway) + stop the gang alone and unannounced off duty was irresponsible. Anyways, i wonder if she will interact again with Elijah because they were adorable, i would miss it!

- The conversation between Soohyun & Gaon at his apartment (ep. 10) was interesting on both parts: 

It sounded casual, but Soohyun wanted to see where he stood in the Kang family and make sure he wasn’t in Yohan’s plans (i hope she didn’t seriously mean the ‘weird’ comment about Elijah, it’d be sad since Elijah enjoyed her company!).

Gaon was anxious professor Min told her about their last conversation (i think she’ll talk to him in the next eps). He also indirectly defended the Kangs by associating himself with them (« I’m pretty sure i’m just as weird ») and voiced his concern about Yohan, speaking more to himself than following the conversation at hand. 

When Soohyun changed the subject with the ‘i’m jealous’ bit, maybe it was to brighten the mood with a light-hearted comment, hoping Gaon would follow. And by the look of her pause right after, it seemed she was also expecting GO’s ‘positive’ reaction to her jealousy, giving in to the kind of teasing/flirt they have in their friendship. But deep down, it was also to voice her true unease about Gaon’s involvement with Yohan she had since the beginning and ep. 8. 

It’s obvious to us she meant she was jealous of Yohan. And GO could’ve understood it this way too, since she confessed to him multiple times and her feelings must be known to him (i think he takes it as a ‘joke’ given how many times she confessed and each time when he was crying, so maybe he thought, very reasonably, it was to cheer him up? I also guess he’s too absorbed by his current worries about the Kangs and her potential suspicion, to notice her attempts). 

But instead of that, he’s not in the same line of thoughts at all and picks up on the « rich », musing on what makes one’s existence rich, thinking Soohyun was envying Yohan’s position and life and proving her he’s indeed in a whole different world, empathizing with Yohan. 

She then looked like her face fell, until her eyes lit up again when he was about to admit she was precious to him along with his family.

By the way, this scene picks up right where we were left off in ep. 8, when Gaon tends to his plants:

« - Are you back for good? - Not really. They need some looking after. - You should come back, not drop by. This is where you live. - Someone there needs some taking care of too. - Take care of your own self, please. - What about me? I’m living a shamelessly comfortable life. Soohyun. - Yes? - What are you thinking about? - Nothing. By the way, Gaon … » (i wonder what she was going to say!)

Lost in thoughts, Gaon’s mixed emotions when he said Yohan was not rich (« he’s not rich. If you get to know him, Kang Yohan is really poor. ») were very well depicted by Jinyoung’s acting: the soft voice and the ghost of a smile that convey understanding and endearment, leaning on his counter in a relaxed stance, but also at the same time the stare lost in the space, maybe to all the memories tied to the Kangs and Yohan, and the tension in his left lip corner by the end of his sentence which betray his sadness and empathy with Yohan’s life. After this, when he became aware of Soohyun’s gaze, it’s like his bubble popped. He looked surprised with his eyes widening, and was fidgeting a little, then changed the subject to himself.

And « I have you, Soohyun » sounded truly grateful but also sad and conflicted, GO lets his worries show when she’s gone, maybe wondering if they would be bound to be against each other one day as he continues to side with Yohan, menacing to jeopardize their friendship to the point of no return. In these kinds of stories you expect these kinds of twists, but i grew fond of the cast send help

- I loved how Yohan’s confession to GO about his brother was filmed: the camera faced head-on his pain, slipping unbeknownst to him through the façade he always showed to protect himself. But this time, despite his (late) attempts to dismiss these feelings both for him and Gaon to regain composure (the hand gestures to hide his tears, pretending to be tough with the  « there’s no such things as innocent people », drinking away his sorrow with a bitter laugh that rings hollow), all this façade fades out in front of Gaon literally by being blurred out in the shot, as if he clearly sees his pain through (his silhouette appearing clear-cut between Yohan’s gestures). I know it’s a pretty classic shot but it fit well with this scene. He clenches his jaw in the next shot, moved by Yohan opening up. 

- The dinner scene was really moving …! Especially when you put the colder tones the kitchen had when we first saw Yohan have dinner by himself next to this scene, full of light in contrast! I wonder when the OST playing will be released, it was so beautiful and reminded me of My Mister’s OST (especially Rainbow!). I look forward to the lyrics, because most of the time the OST gives more layers & depth to the story and the characters! (please don’t let it be about Yohan’s budding feeling of a true ‘home’ ;;) I didn’t realize it upon my first watch, but Gaon really took the cutlery hostage, it cracked me up!

- The parallels in this show will be the end of me: Yohan went from the « i’m so sick of this place » (ep. 5) to asking K to drive him « home » with a delighted smile. 

- I liked the parallel of Yohan’s reaction to GO/Sun-Ah sitting in his office chair, impeding on his space (he reminds SA to stay out of it, the first time politely, the second time almost grimacing, his jaw clenched: « Just because you’re the head of the OSC doesn’t mean you can barge in like this (…) So please stop barging in like this. », while he says nothing to GO)

- At the beginning of ep. 10, we have Yohan saying he doesn’t like «  hanging out with people » & by the end of it, Soohyun saying « My childhood’s best friend is hanging out with a rich guy ».

- These two episodes gave more insight and nuance into Sun-Ah’s character, which was very nice ; and also Cha Kyung-Hee’s comeback (and her last confrontation with Sun-Ah!!!!)

- The people following Juk Chang also targeted sexual minorities according to the subs i had, i wonder if it will be addressed again sometime in the drama. 

- I loved Elijah’s « hacking » technique scene, i felt proud too! I always look forward to her scenes (and Kkomi’s too haha)! And her reaching out Gaon’s shoulder for the first time ;;

- The ‘humans lose their minds when they think they’ve lost what they have’ ……… repeated twice by YH ………… It will hit hard and all those lines will come right back at us viewers, but i’m not prepared haha! And also for the ‘if you want revenge, don’t hesitate’, i hope it doesn’t foreshadow a future revenge Gaon will execute without hesitation aaaaaa

Also, what lawyer Ko said about himself in ep. 8 may apply to Yohan’s case by the end, will he atone for what he did someday? (« I’m no longer a lawyer. I’m just a criminal. When all this comes to an end, I’ll pay for what i did. »)

- I really loved Yohan’s efforts to take into consideration both Elijah’s (he refrained himself from acting rashly like the last time she went out and listened to her) and Gaon’s feelings (stopping him from endangering himself recklessly, not forcing him onto the revenge path lest he’d regret it afterwards, and helping him to face the truth rationally). 

- « She’s hungry for affection. No matter how much you hate the world and the people in it, you can never live alone. You always need someone to rely on. As long as you’re a human being. » Many people commented on it, Gaon must speak from his own experience and empathizes with both Elijah and Yohan’s situation. These two episodes showed how Gaon cares for the Kangs more openly, and i live for it! 

- Give me that domestic scene where Gaon plays cards with YH, the nanny and Elijah! And also more K and lawyer Ko scenes!

- Jinjoo’s and Gaon’s intervention in the trial were gold! And Satie’s Gnossiennes rearrangement playing in the background during Juk Chang’s speech, it’s the cherry on the cake haha

- By the way, there was also an arrangement of Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto no. 2 during the first charity event Yohan went with Jinjoo in the earlier episodes, it was also beautiful!

- GO’s Awkward Smile. I have no words, it is now forever imprinted on my mind.

Have a nice week and take care!

[maddiviner]

Could studyblogging jumpstart your personal grimoire?

A witch should be a lifelong learner. To practice effective magic, you must grow in new directions at a constant pace. A witch should approach magic with a sense of devotion to their own growth.

I’ve practiced magic and divination for two decades now. The most solid advice I can give? Start journaling. Start keeping a notebook. Start studying.

Witches who keep a notebook record their research and ideas about the Craft. This helps them build a wide repository of knowledge, right there when they need it.

The format and content of my notebooks changed a lot over the years. But they all helped me become the witch I am today. I devoted the bulk of these notebooks to my journey in magic, techniques to try, and lessons learned.

There are few people who haven’t studied. In school, we pore over geometry and classic literature in hot pursuit of elusive high marks. We spent time learning about our interests. Whether that’s witchcraft, philosophy, or astronomy, notes are helpful.

Everyone learns in a different fashion. Still, studying and learning about the world remains with us from our first breath, to the last. My Craft took leaps forward when this dawned on me. I’d always enjoyed school. I realized that I could apply the same study techniques to witchcraft and the occult. 

What’s studyblogging?!

As a regular user of both Tumblr and Instagram, I soon came across the studyblogging trend. 

Caitlyn Tiffany of The Verge describes the studyblogging phenomenon as “a beautiful, stressful wonderland.” An apt description! But what is a studyblog? 

Studyblogging hashtags like #studyblr and #studygram  are popular (on Tumblr and Instagram, respectively).  

For someone just coming across the phenomenon, though? It can be difficult to penetrate this strange world. Expect calligraphic chaos, a plethora of highlighters, and fine-tuned aesthetics. 

Studyblogging focuses on the quest for knowledge. In practice, studyblogs share tips and handwritten notes on various subjects. Studybloggers encourage each other to be the best learners they can be. 

The photos of notes, assignments, and other tasks make up the bulk of the phenomenon. Studyblogs often feature photos of elaborate calligraphy and heavy illustration in note form.

Expect to see self-made diagrams of mitochondria. Essay outlines on postcolonial theory with nigh-perfect bubble lettering. Vast, illustrated mind-maps of Shakespearean themes. It's a big community, and there's room for a lot. Room for witches? I think so!

Studyblogging for Witches

In witchcraft, our grimoires function much like a non-magical student's study notes. The content, and some of the form, may differ, but the principles are the same.

The quest for an aesthetically-pleasing grimoire stymies many a beginner (and not-so-beginner) witch. The wise remind us that our grimoires needn’t be complex. Functionality is more important than aesthetics in most cases. 

That said, there is something worthwhile about keeping a grimoire that suits you. A  grimoire can speak to your soul, both by way of aesthetic appeal and your own abilities. For some of us, this might mean a lavishly-illustrated tome. Others might find minimalist styles more resonating. It varies.

The truth is that yes, your grimoire needn’t look a certain way or be perfect. Still, a level of aesthetic appeal can help with information retention. It can also boost your magical productivity. Humans respond in an intuitive fashion to that which they consider beautiful.

Aesthetics can help to put you into a liminal state. Liminality can be a powerful tool in self-improvement. This, in turn, is useful not only for normal studying, but also for the Craft itself. 

If you see art as part of your life path, you might find that approaching your grimoire as a work of art helpful. Part of this means realizing that it won’t be perfect, but also always striving to learn and grow.

Studyblogging, as a community, showcases a lot of excellent notebook and journal-keeping techniques. Studybloggers often provide tutorials and guides to effective learning methods. 

This is, of course, all while celebrating the joy of learning itself. Traditional studying methods can apply to magical topics. I have found that the techniques of the studyblogger can help with keeping a useful grimoire.

Ask your intuition if studyblogging is right for you!

Will studyblogging help you? For some students, lurking or keeping a studyblog inspires and motivates them. It also increases accountability. By posting their goals and progress, studybloggers have an impetus to progress. 

In a way, it’s a bit like livestreaming a video game - it makes the experience more challenging, and also more exciting. The difference, of course, is that, in this case, your game is learning!

And the notes? Many find the calligraphy, fancy scripts, and illustration soothing. It can be a way of making otherwise impenetrable subjects more captivating.

Without a doubt, aesthetic presentation improves information retention for some people. Humans have a positive response to beautiful imagery. 

Some folks find the gorgeous landscape of studygram and studyblr overwhelming and anxiety-inducing. Gorgeous calligraphy notes, after all, aren't easy for most people. 

For some, posting about your studies on a blog might only increase worry. We're all different, and studyblog techniques are hardly universal in form.

You should use your intuition to decide whether to dip into this community. Ask yourself whether an audience will help your quest for deeper knowledge. 

Will you feel empowered, or nervous about it? If you struggle with comparing yourself to others, you might find studyblogging discouraging. 

I myself am somewhat of a perfectionist. For me, though, the artistic aspects of note taking and information illustration soothe me. Studyblogging suits me, but will it help you?

You should tailor your learning experience to your own strengths. If that means studyblogging won’t help you, be honest with yourself and don’t chase the anxiety of it all. Find another method of learning. 

Browse some existing studyblogs - I recommend EmmaStudies and StudyQuill. Ask yourself how it makes you feel. Do the images and writing seems inspirational? 

Would you enjoy sharing your work with the world? Studyblogging might become an ally on your magical path!

Taking the Plunge

So, how do you start a studyblog? How do you get involved in the community?

The most popular studyblogging platforms are Instagram and Tumblr. Instagram lends itself to posting tons of pictures and very short-form posts. Tumblr favors longer prose. 

When I started studyblogging, I created both a studyblr and a studygram. I recommend starting a new account on the site of your preference for studyblogging.  

Follow some existing studybloggers as a way of introducing yourself to the community! Also, follow the hashtags #studyblr and #studygram, to start.

What to study?

Studyblogging features students focused on all kinds of topics. I’ve been studyblogging for over a year. In case you’re wondering, it's rare for someone to complain about my witchy take on studyblogging. 

You’ll find the studyblogging community very welcoming in most cases. But what will you study? I always recommend witches focus on only one or two things they’d most like to learn at a time.

Studyblogging lends itself well to in-depth topical research. This can mean learning the signs and language of astrology or the basics of gemstone magic.

Topics like shadow work or personal Tarot readings might be a bit too personal to blog about. Those might be better suited to normal, private journaling rather than a blog. My own studyblogging tends to focus on my writing preparation, astrology, and Tarot. 

Though I’ve been reading for over twenty years, there is always something new to learn about Tarot. Astrology, like Tarot, is a lifelong discipline. Though I’ve only recently made my first steps into it, there is much to learn. My writing, especially the book I’m working on, has its own notebook.

Possible topics include, but are in no way limited to:

Crystals and gemstones

Astrology

Spellcraft

Mythology and legends

Magical history

Energy work techniques

Seasonal and Lunar cycles

Herbology

Tarot, Lenormand, or oracle deck divination!

It is important to choose topics that interest you in a personal way. At the same time, try not to get distracted. Witchcraft includes many paths of study. Try not to jump from topic to topic - finish what you start!

Supplies

If you’re in school, you may already have a lot of the tools necessary for studying. If not, you can get them for an affordable price in most cases.

Paper matters!  You'll want a notebook or loose leaf binder paper. For hardbound notebooks, you can’t go wrong with a Leuchtturm 1917.  That popular notebook boasts dot grid paper, includes page numbers and a place for an index. 

Seeking something more aesthetic? Check out the Paperblanks series from Peter Pauper Press. You might also like the notebooks you can order from Citrus Bookbindery. For me, a binder (I use A5 size) works best, because I can add and remove pages as necessary. 

You can find some great guides out there about organizing grimoires. Much of that advice applies here. Your notebooks will soon fill the role of a grimoire.  They will contain your notes, research, and more.

It is usually best to have one notebook (or binder) for each subject you’re studying. As you move forward, you’ll have a collection of grimoire notebooks on different topics.

You’ll also need pens or pencils. Really, you only need one. If you feel like getting fancy, you can get multicolored fineliners. I prefer Sakura Micron pens. They use waterproof micropigments that don't bleed when you highlight over your writing.

Highlighters are fun! These add color to your notes and help emphasize the important things. If you want nice highlighters, I recommend Mildliners. Any highlighters will do, though - choose colors that appeal to you. I recommend several different colors, because that allows you to color-code your notes.

Plan!

Plan out, at least in a rough fashion, how you’d like to organize your  notes. This can be rather freeform, or complex, depending on your preference. 

When I began my astrology journey, I knew what sections I would include in my stars grimoire. I also created a rough map of the path I’d take in my research. 

I began with the simple Zodiac signs. I then moved forward through the planets, houses, aspects and transits. My organization, loose though it was, benefited from my use of a binder which allowed me to add and remove pages. 

No matter the notebook, it is important to have, somewhere, a rough idea of where you’re going.

You will also find it important to set attainable, realistic, and measurable goals. For me, this was things like memorizing the astrological house system. I set the goal of reading my astrology textbooks completely and summarizing them. This kind of goal leads to personal accountability.

I also created a set of astrological flashcards for my Tarot-related work. It can be motivational to post your goals on your studyblog in some form. Then, you can provide your followers with regular updates on your progress.

Start posting!

Once you feel ready, go ahead and introduce yourself to the studyblogging community! An introductory post, explaining who you are, your goals, and methods, will help others get to know you. 

I recommend tagging your posts with studyblogging hashtags (mentioned above). Also include some witchcraft-related tags! This will help you connect with other witches who might be helpful on your journey.

Don’t be shy when it comes to posting photographs (taken with a phone or other camera) of your notes! You might not feel that your notes are as neat or pretty as other bloggers. Regardless, they’re unique and might resonate with others!

If you’re taking notes about a very personal topic, like shadow work, you might want to forgo the pictures. Some bloggers obfuscate or blur potentially sensitive parts of their notes. You’ll likely find nothing but encouragement for sharing your research topics, though!

Some studybloggers will also photograph their study space. Some of us even use photos of fun things like their breakfast or pets to illustrate their updates. If pictures don’t suit you, post regular bits about your life and your progress towards your goals. 

Get to know other bloggers! This is important, whether they’re witches or from the studyblogging community. Both can be helpful! 

Watch or read some of the tutorials you’ll find in the studyblogging community. These focus on things like calligraphy, organization, and memory techniques. 

While your notes needn’t have fancy headings, calligraphy can be fun to learn. I don’t currently use calligraphy in my notes, but am learning it on the side, so to speak. 

I find it relaxing, and you might enjoy it too. If not, don't feel bad - not everyone uses fancy handwriting, and that's okay!

Moving Forward

If, after a few weeks, you find yourself really vibing with studyblogging, stick with it! Most witches would agree that there’s no real wrong way to be a witch. To me, though, there are wrong (and right) ways for you yourself to learn and grow in your craft. 

You need to find what works for you, what adheres to your soul and keeps you connected. If studyblogging ends up helping you, and I hope it will, keep going! 

After a while you might find yourself ready to move onto another topic. We all end up “graduating” forward onto other subjects. You’ll quickly find that your grimoires will be an invaluable record. 

They will contain not just your gathered information, but also your intuition, insight, and more. Cherish your notebooks - they will come to reflect your essence!

[forthekags]

Number Nine

Kageyama Tobio X FemReader

Part 1

About: You were introduced to the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball club during your second year. Yachi needed help after Kiyoko had taken her leave, so she asked you to join her. Although, it would have been smarter to look for a first year, but you were new and looked lonely. When you met the boys you were bit overwhelmed but they grew on you in no time. Kageyama was a little rough around the edges at first, he was awkward and couldn’t hold eye-contact. He was a blushing baboon for the first few days. He was sure to keep his distance but you only found it exciting and hilarious. Sure enough you two became friends from all your taunting and teasing. You’re about to enter your third year, and this was your make it or break it. You had to start thinking about your own future- and so did Kageyama. 

The First Drop

You looked at the clouds and watched as they glided through the sky. The weatherman said it was supposed to rain later this afternoon, so you tried looking for that one cloud that hinted towards that. You were so busy looking at them you nearly tripped over a step if it wasn’t for Kageyama grabbing onto you.

“Your head is literally stuck in the clouds, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes when he tilted your head to look at him. “You’re going to fall and hurt yourself.”

You grabbed onto his sleeve and proceeded to look up again, “I won’t fall because you’ll be there to prevent it, simple.” You were so confident when you said it, it made his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

“I should let you fall so you can learn your lesson,” he pushed his glasses up his nose. He had started using them every now and then because of his sucky eyesight, all those late nights watching videos finally catching up to him. You glanced to your side watching him- he was staring straight ahead with a small pout and the same shade of pink on his cheeks. He was pretty.

He didn’t tug away from your hold, he never does now. He let you watch the clouds and was your guide through the tricky streets and potholes. You were walking to your house so you can set up your notes and help Kageyama with some homework. It became a routine last year when you learned he failed another test even though Yachi was helping both of the dummies during her lunchtime. When he showed up at your desk during lunchtime, he was ushered away by some classmates. You sleep during your lunch, and you are not to be disturbed. He remembers how you threw a book to his head when he got fed up. How are you going to give him a whole rant about grades during practice and then not tutor him during lunch!

You eventually set up a study session after practice at your house since it was nearby. Shoyo and Yachi would join you on specific dates (mostly when there was a big test coming up). But Kageyama went every day, even when there was no homework. On those days, he’d watch you read or you’d watch volleyball videos together and geek out over the professionals, which led to talking about his future; how he wanted to become the best. You loved watching his eyes shine as if he could physically see it, right then and there at arms reach.

Your mom thought you two were dating in the beginning. You would start a rant about how that wasn’t the case and how he was too dumb for you and he would say how much of bossy pants you were right to your own mother! (Although, she agreed with him). “Could’ve fooled me,” was her last comment about the subject. She got tired of you two freaking out over any small chance of her bringing it. But she loved having him over, he complimented her cooking every time.

“There it is!” you said excitedly, you pointed at this gray cloud in the distance. You grabbed Tobio’s hand and tugged him towards the cloud that was coming your way. He let out some grunts and apologized to some people you passed by and accidentally shoved. You reached a river rail and he thought he had to hold you down by the way you wanted to keep chasing after it.

“Y/N! It’s coming towards us! No need to run after it!”

You were excited, no- that’s an understatement. Was there a word for what you are?

Beautiful, he thought but quickly cleared from his mind. That’s not really what he was trying to look for. He was never good with synonyms. But you were... good with synonyms that is,  well you are beautiful too- he was just thinking about the other stuff. Anyways! The cloud!

The cloud got closer and you could hear the rain. Tobio got his umbrella out and opened it up, ready for impact. When he tried to cover you with it, you let go of his hand looking at him before you shook your head. Suddenly the absence of your hand was louder than the drops, did he not notice you still holding it? You moved away and waited for the first drop to land on you and he watched you close your eyes and smile blissfully. He gulped when his heart skipped a beat. The rain was cold, he could feel how it lowered the temperature around you two, but you enjoyed it.

“Y/N,” he complained, “you’re going to get sick.”

You opened your eyes and caught his worried ones. All you could do was smile. Rain was blissful weather- it wasn’t a downer like everyone says it is, it’s therapeutic. It’s scary when it rumbles but there’s nothing like its soft drops. They refresh you and let you stop to just feel everything and nothing at once.

This was your limbo, he thought. Your perfect state of mind. He didn’t want to disturb you, so he just watched silently until you turned to him again with an idea dancing in your eyes.

“Dance with me, Tobio.”

“Wha- what! Hell no! I’m not going to join you in your sickness!” He staggered, “I don’t even know how to dance.”

“Please Tobio, one dance and we can go home and get changed so you won’t get sick.” Your eyes pleaded and he wavered instantly. He usually wins in debates, but when it was something you really wanted... how can he say no?

“Fine! But just one and we go okay?” He put his umbrella away and let the rain drench him as it had to you. You smiled at him and jumped with happiness.

“That’s exactly what I said!”

He put his hand on your waist and the other out for you to grab. You jumped into position and stepped closer to him making him go red and look away from you. You didn’t have to look at him, but you did and you enjoyed every second of it. There was no music, and it surprised you that he didn’t try to use that as an excuse, but you swayed with him. His hair was now wet and dripping drops onto your nose and it made you smile again.

Kageyama was smooth on his feet, which must be a perk from being an athlete, but you always saw him as only-on-the-court type of smooth and a clutz everywhere else. But he guided you swiftly, twirled you every now and then just to bring you right back to him. You laughed and he smiled whenever he did it. As it was coming to a halt, you rested your head on his chest and he hugged onto you. Can he just stay here? Holding onto you and you to him.

“Y/N…” he said softly breaking the trance. Of course not.

You stepped away and gave him a sad smile. “Alright, let’s go princess.” You grabbed your stuff from the floor and picked up the umbrella that he had. Kageyama didn’t move from his spot, instead, he took a deep breath and held it as you covered both of you under the umbrella. You were going to say something witty but the intensity in his eyes stopped you. “Kags?”

"Sorry… I just… uh- nevermind."

He grabbed the umbrella from your hand and set it up a bit higher. You offered a comforting smile instead of pressuring him to tell you, and he silently thanked you. As much as you loved to taunt him, you never wanted to tease him about his struggle to express himself. You'll go all day talking about his grades and clumsiness or when he messes up a serve during practice. But not this.

You and Kags walked back to the route of your house, your ETA increasing after your little detour. There was an annoying silence settling in, so you decided to compliment him.

"I didn't know you could dance, Tobio." You looked over and saw that pink shade go a little darker over his cheeks. He didn't reply so you pressed on, "Once you get a girlfriend, you have to treat her to a good dance."

You were gleaming and being supportive again. That comforting smile was stitched onto your face permanently it seems, but he didn't mind. What did bother him though was this talk about a girlfriend.

"That's ridiculous," he mumbled under his breath. You didn't catch it entirely, but it wasn't something you didn't expect from him.

You stared ahead and thought about the previous year. Kageyama had a small little fan club of admirers from a variety of students, according to Yachi, it had picked up even more during their second year. Some would give him notes during lovely holidays, hell- you'd eat his gifted chocolates with him during those days. Some of them really knew how to pick the right sweets… But you've never seen him gift one of them back. Sometimes, you wondered what would happen if you… if you would bring him sweets with a heart sketched onto a note. What would he do?

"Hey, Kags? Why don’t you date?” You didn’t mean to bring it up or maybe you did… But you didn’t want to know the answer. No matter what it was.

He shuffled a bit uncomfortable thinking it was another joke or something for you to tease him about. However, when he glanced down at you to tell you to mind your own business, he saw a rare blush. He can count on one hand the times he’s seen that blush, each memorable in their own way. His favorite was when he caught you staring while he took his shirt off in the gym and right when he was about to tease you, you denied such action and said you were daydreaming about some fantasy world.

So, he thought about it. Genuinely trying to come up with an answer. What does dating even look like? It must take up some time… He was never the best at time management, and if he’s already thinking about that it would feel like just another chore. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to date,” he explained, “with volleyball and practice and stuff, it’ll just be a waste...”

Oh, you thought. That is the most logical answer he could give. But you felt… you felt like that wasn’t fair. Was volleyball really going to take up all his time?

Yes, it is! He lives for the sport. It’s his everything, that’s the very same thing you love about him- admire- admire about him. So… would you be hurt if he had to cut you out, too? Are you going to just be waiting for him to leave you behind whenever his volleyball career gets more serious? You’re already taking up most of his time. Like now. The last thing you want to do is hold him back.

While you struggled with your thoughts, you were quiet and sulking outside. Kags noticed it right away.

“Are you okay?”

You snapped back to reality and gave a forced smile. “Yeah, of course.” He caught on pretty quick but instead of thinking you were bothered by it, he thought you were petty because of his answer.

“Were you planning on asking me out?” He raised his eyebrow and teased you.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. That serious sad gleam in your eye was disappearing along with it.

“You wish, simpleton.”

You teased each other along the way, your anxieties dying down for the rest of the evening, and it was all normal for a bit. Until he left for the day, and as you watched him walk away you got that lonely feeling again.

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Dorm Party

Yuu rescues Idia at a party, or Me throwing several jokes I wanted to make into a single fic.

Content warnings for coarse language. Find more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag! And sent me an ask if you liked anything, I’m much like any other motherfucker on this website and thrive on positive feedback.

~*~*~*~

TXT: yuu help me i got waylaid by extroverts

You roll your eyes and reply back.

Y: aight who is it

I: music club 

I: help me

Y: remember, they try and include you because they genuinely like you

Y: what are you guys doing

I: i was getting food and they took me to scarabia to eat with them

I: get me out get me out get me out they keep asking me questions

Y: okay

Y: but why didn't you say you were busy

Y: or were going somewhere

I: you ever see kalims face when you tell him no

You had. He covered it up really quick, but that half-second of kicked puppy was heartbreaking.

Y: can you eat just enough to be polite and then bug out

Y: they know it's a lot for you

I: how much is that

Y: like, a small plate or something?

I: if i eat a plate i can go to the infirmary and leave got it

Y: NO

~*~*~*~

At least the spread wasn't all Jamil's cooking. He might cook like a god, but he needed a break sometimes, and takeout can be fun.

"Alright, so when he pumped the blood through the tube, it was supposed to come through in like, a steady stream, but he'd fucked up. So there were bubbles in the tube, but when you filmed it? it came out realistic-"

"I can confirm that."

"Lil, no."

"Lil yes." He sipped at his drink. "We should probably stop this conversation before they lose their lunch."

"Aww, why." The sarcasm was barely audible, but you couldn't help but smile at Cater and Kalim. Cater was the better of the two; Kalim had gone downright ashy from shock. You shuffled through the cans by the table before sliding him a ginger ale. "For your tummy, baby."

"Thank you." His colour had bounced back well before he took a sip. "You sure like telling stories about blood."

"No, that was about practical effects. I can start talking about blood if you want." You leaned your head back. "What do you think? Should I?"

Idia, who had been using you as a human shield ever since you showed up, shook his head and went back to ripping bread into increasingly smaller pieces before eating them.

"Yuu, look at this." Cater passed you his phone. The carefully staged, enstickered selfie of a Magicam influencer, with bouncy curls and double-peace signs.

"Oh, she's cute. I love her earrings." You held the phone up long enough for Idia to nod at with a small smile, before it got passed around for everyone to coo over. "You interested in her, Cater?"

"Ah, some. We've been chatting." He looked a bit dreamy, thinking on it. "We're going to try and meet up next break and see how we like each other in person."

You smiled. "Good luck, dude. She's definitely your type."

He laughed. "I do like them very cute, don't I?"

"You do, yeah." You turned to Kalim. "What do you like in someone? You probably have a type."

Kalim leaned back and thought on it. "I really like... Shining dark eyes and silky flowing hair."

You managed to disguise a snicker as a cough. "Tall and elegant, too? Always looking out for you?"

He looked up in wonder. "How'd you know?"

"Just a guess."

Lilia chimed in, full of mischief. "What about you, Idia?" You felt him stiffen in surprise against your back. "What do you like?"

"He likes 2D girls." He immediately swatted you.

"You're not 2D. And we know your type." Lilia narrowed his eyes at you. "Tall and pale and interesting looking."

"One of many." You leaned back, and Idia immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, audience be damned. "And who could blame me? Look at him."

"Please don't." He tried to scrunch behind you, but even if you were wider, he was much taller and couldn't fit.

"Aww." Cater had such a warm smile on his face. "Love at first sight?"

You shook your head. "You have to work for love. But," You looked back at your pretty blue boy, holding you tight even as he looked away in embarrassment. "The first time I saw you, it was like you snatched the breath from my throat. I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life. I never even imagined anyone could be so beautiful." You leaned to nuzzle the spot where his jaw met his neck, and he swallowed. "And lucky me, it's the same every time I see you. You're a blessing on my life, and every day you look at me and smile makes everything worth it."

The silence was broken by Kalim giving a light sniffle. "That's beautiful, wow."

"Way to set the bar, Yuu." Lilia had his head propped in his hands. "So, was it mutual?"

You laughed. "I don't think so." You settled back into Idia, bright burning pink. "What did you think of me when you first met me?"

"..."

"Idia."

~*~*~*~

Your name is IDIA SHROUD. You're a THIRD YEAR STUDENT at NIGHT'S RAVEN COLLEGE, and everything is TERRIFYING BEYOND MORTAL KEN. You suffer from the effects of a TERRIBLE ANCESTRAL CURSE, which makes the already fraught experience of high school JUST, SO MUCH WORSE. The only things you truly enjoy are MEDIA OF A GEEKY NATURE and your MAGITEK LITTLE BROTHER. If it were up to you, you would BRICK YOUR DOOR SHUT AND NEVER LEAVE.

But, tragically, you sometimes must leave and face the mobs outside. At any moment, you could aggro them all with the sheer sin of your terrible presence, and the teachers had no sympathy for your low-tier, introverted self, and insisted that you had to show up to some classes in person. Even though telecom had come so far! You'd think you'd have pull, with your grades, but it was not the case.

Anyway, some first years had crashed a chandelier within days of being here, and you'd only found two to tell to leave you alone forever. When you found the two boys standing with a third, holding perhaps the most wonderful creature you'd ever seen in your life, you went over to explain how it was going to go. Only it didn't turn out like that.

She - what a cliche, the new student at a one-gender school being the opposite - turned to look at you. Enormous puffy eye circles that rivaled your own, close-cropped dark hair, eyes of no particular colour, all in a soft, pimply face with a double chin. This was the one that caused all the trouble?

Her smile dropped away immediately, replaced by wide eyes and slack jaw. She didn't blink, only stared directly at you, though you, muttering an endless stream of something you could not hear as she refused to stop looking or even blink. You knew a bad time when you saw it, and fled the battle before it could begin. You only just heard a voice go "Who WAS that?" before you were out of earshot, running back to your room as fast as possible.

~*~*~*~ "A curse?" You couldn't stop laughing, and that managed to set everyone else off. "You thought I was putting a curse on you?"

"Well!" He threw his hands up. "What was I supposed to think? I didn't know what that face meant and that made the most sense!"

"You do have a... intense look when you see something you like." Lilia laughed. "It reminds me a bit of Howl sometimes."

Kalim added, "No, it's more like she wants to eat whatever she's staring at."

Idia inclined his head in agreement, and Cater made a similar guesture to you. "You're all terrible," you said, but smiled as you did.

"Lilia, you never told us what type you had."

"Oh, Kalim," he said with eyes wide, "I'm much too young to be thinking about romance."

"I have forty-five minutes of footage that says otherwise," Cater said, waving his phone.

"Alright, alright." He rolled his eyes. "I like a lot of types of people."

"You've never flirted with anyone here at school." You thought for a moment. "Well, seriously, anyways. You're real friendly and that can be kinda flirty in itself."

"That's not true," he corrected. "You just don't know who it is. But," he added, "it's not a student. You're all too young for me."

Everyone stopped to consider this, before Idia spoke up. "It's Trein. I remember when I came in with you sitting on his desk."

Lilia pouted. "He still hasn’t bit. And he knows."

You covered your mouth. "I should have known you're a geezerfucker."

"I don't think it counts if you're older than said geezer."

Lilia leaned over to Idia. "I'll tell him you said that and then no one in this room will ever get a passing grade or a playdate with Lucius again."

Everyone changed the subject, and the evening continued with success.

[spencers-renaissance]

my heart talks about nothing but you

Summary: Derek finds Spencer staring longingly at dancing newlyweds while on a case and once he gets to the bottom of why he's tasked with making a proposal to a man who knows it's coming special somehow. (He pulls it off.)

Tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, minor angst, so much fluff, relationship discussions, proposal, vulnerable spencer, protective derek

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid 

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

(link to the prequel)

Derek watches curiously as Spencer stands, staring at the newlywed couple dancing slowly to the beat of Norah Jones’ The Nearness of You, surrounded by their friends and family looking fondly on. They’d accidentally crashed the wedding when visiting the venue to question the staff about a connection to their current case, but Spencer had forgotten all about the serial killer on the run as soon as he’d laid eyes on the dancing couple. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb, standing frozen in place, a little off to the side from the rest of the guests but not far away enough to be set apart as staff or… visiting FBI agents. Derek knows he just needs to go and tap him on the shoulder and he’ll snap out of it. They’ll head back to the station and continue working the case, never mentioning his distractedness again, but he isn’t really sure that’s what he wants to do. There’s something so beautifully tragic about Spencer’s expression as he watches the slow waltz across the mahogany dance floor that Derek can’t bring himself to interrupt. 

There’s something whirring through his pretty boy’s head, and he can’t quite figure out what it could possibly be. He doesn’t seem particularly enamoured with either the bride or groom — and Derek should certainly hope not, he wouldn’t be overly pleased if his sweet, devoted boyfriend developed a wandering eye — and the dance itself is nothing special, just two people in love swaying in step to a slow song. 

It must be something emotional then, something about the concept of a newlyweds’ first dance, but what sentiment could possibly be strong enough to allow Spencer to forget himself this much, to wander off in the middle of a case and waste precious minutes watching strangers have an intimate moment together? Derek hopes it’s something good, but with the amount of tragedy his boyfriend has a knack for collecting, he isn’t holding out much hope. 

Eventually, he brings himself to touch Spencer’s arm gently, causing him to whirl around and breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of Derek’s face. They head back to the police department and, as he predicted, they don’t talk about it.

⭐️

He can’t quite let it go, though. The next few days are spent with the image of Spencer watching dancing strangers almost forlornly haunting his brain as they finish working the case and fly home to Quantico. Once they’re back in their apartment, shut away from the rest of the world, he can’t help but broach the subject.

Mustering enough self-control to wait a little while longer, he waits until he’s made them a simple dinner of penne alla vodka and they’re sat at the kitchen table enjoying it to bring it up. They’re holding hands on top of the table as they always do — regardless of every one of their friends complaining about how sappy it is — and he gives it a gentle squeeze before clearing his throat and putting down his fork.

“Spencer,” he starts hesitantly, “when we were at that wedding checking out the venue’s staff… What had you so distracted? You were staring at the bride and groom like you were in a trance.”

He watches as Spencer freezes for a millisecond before resuming chewing as nonchalantly as possible. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Okay, so it’s going to be like that, Derek thinks a little cynically, but he tries not to lose hope as he takes a breath in before sighing it out. “Baby, if you don’t want to tell me for whatever reason, I’m not going to force you. But we both know that you do know what I’m talking about and I just want you to feel safe and comfortable enough to share it with me. We’ve been together going on five years now, pretty boy, we don’t keep secrets, not anymore.”

Spencer blinks rapidly as he stares down into his bowl of pasta and Derek rushes to the other side of the table as soon as he sees the tears in his eyes, taking Spencer’s hands in his. “That’s exactly it, Derek,” he says, crying quietly, “we’ve been together five years.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion at that, tucking a beautiful chestnut strand of Spencer’s hair behind his ear before running his thumb under his eye, brushing his tears away. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says gently, picking Spencer up off his chair and moving them both to the sofa. Since the very beginning of their relationship, he’s always been able to calm Spencer down by picking him up and putting him in his lap; he’d told Derek once that it made him feel safe. “What’s all this about five years? Are you anxious about our anniversary?”

“No,” Spencer promises indignantly, shaking his head. “No, I— it’s just been making me think.”

“Uh, oh,” Derek teases gently, pressing his fingers into Spencer’s side, and it’s worth it when it makes him flash a brief, teary smile. 

“It’s been making me think about my parents, and how when I was really little I used to watch their wedding VHS on repeat. I’d sit on the living room carpet, face practically touching the TV, and watch my two favourite people promise to spend the rest of their lives together. I remember thinking how lucky I was that my parents were so in love. But then William pulled the rug out from beneath my rose-coloured view of the world and I came crashing back to reality.”

“And the dancing the other day reminded you of that time in your life?”

“Sort of,” Spencer answers awkwardly, clearly nervous to reveal the whole truth. Derek knows to just give him time, but he only has to wait a few moments for him to resume explaining. “I’ve been wondering whether I want to get married myself. When I was eleven and left dealing with my mother’s episodes all by myself, watching her cry for my father as she begged him to come to home, I promised myself that I would never put myself into a position where I could be hurt like that. I vowed never to marry anybody. But as… you know, we’ve been together and our relationship has progressed, I’ve found myself rethinking it all over again.”

Derek doesn’t cut in when the pause comes: he’ll know when Spencer’s finished, but he presses gentle kisses of reassurance to whatever he can reach, kissing his hand, his shoulder, his forearm, his ear. The soft pink blush blooming on Spencer’s neck makes the endeavour feel worthwhile. 

“When I was watching that couple dancing, Derek, I wanted it to be you and me. You’re not the man my father is and I’m not my father’s son, so fearing the outcome of my parents’ marriage is starting to feel more and more irrational. I know we can’t predict the future, but I know that right now I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

As soon as he’s done speaking, he buries his face in Derek’s neck, making himself as small as he possibly can against his bigger body. They’d had a few conversations about marriage over the years, but neither of them had considered it especially important so they’d usually just left it, but there were times that Derek longed to propose to Spencer, to make it official. He couldn’t stop worrying about what would happen if he got hurt — he needs to know Spencer would be treated as his next of kin, that everything he has would be Spencer’s. He’d always sensed, though, that with his boyfriend it was more than just a case of not seeing it as necessary or worth the enormous cost of a wedding, and he hadn’t wanted to prod him where he knew it was probably sore. 

“Dr Spencer Reid,” Derek teases, “are you proposing to me?”

“No, no,” Spencer laughs, withdrawing his face from Derek’s neck, blushing slightly. “You were the one who brought it up!”

“I’m only teasing, baby,” he chuckles, running a hand down the side of Spencer’s arm. “Listen, if you want to get married, we’ll get married, okay? It’s as simple as that. I can’t say I haven’t longed to make you my husband at different times over the years we’ve been together, and the idea of throwing the best wedding anybody’s ever been to very much appeals to me.” He grins up at Spencer’s shy expression. “Do you want to be, you know, proposed to?”

Spencer blushes properly at that, looking a little sheepish as he avoids Derek’s curious eyes. “Maybe….”

“I thought that might be the case.” Derek smiles fondly before swinging his boy over so he’s laying on the couch before following suit and positioning himself on top of him. “You better be prepared, Dr Reid, because I am going to blow this proposal out the water,” he promises, kissing him deeply as he winds his fingers in his hair.

“I don’t doubt it,” Spencer whispers, before kissing him again, pasta forgotten and cold on the kitchen table. 

⭐️

Derek lets a few months pass — although he bought them both rings the day after their conversation — before he finally proposes. He knows that anything special or flashy is off the table, because as soon as Spencer detected a hint of something out of the ordinary, he’d know it was coming. He’d also considered involving the team or his family, but eventually settled on it being just the two of them. An exclusive memory shared only between the two of them sounds pretty good to him. 

The first day they have off in September is warm and bright, and Spencer just smiles at Derek’s suggestion of a walk around their local park. They often take strolls around the city’s more nature-rich areas on their days of reprieve from their gruesome job, but it feels even more electric than normal when Spencer slides his palm against Derek’s and interlocks their fingers as soon as they lock the door behind them.

“I’m going out with the girls tonight,” Spencer tells him as they make their way out of the apartment building and into the golden sunshine, the autumnal season still early enough for its warmth to be felt against their skin. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Penelope’s bringing us to a show at her favourite drag club, and I’m quite excited, actually.”

“I’d like to see you in drag, baby,” Derek teases, swinging their hands between them. The streets of DC at 10am on a Tuesday aren’t all that busy, and they walk at a slower pace than normal, enjoying the lack of businessmen and executives jostling them in their hurry. Derek’s other hand fondles the velvet box in his pocket but he doesn’t feel nervous. Anticipation swirls in his stomach, but he’s had enough practice taming it with all his years as an FBI agent to not let it show. 

“You have seen me in drag, moron,” Spencer laughs, rolling his eyes. Derek will never tire of that sound. It still sends the same butterflies loose in his chest as it did the first time he heard it.

Years later, Derek won’t remember what he said in response to that, just that he managed to keep up a conversation the whole way to the park as he ran his fingers over the velvet box in his coat pocket, and Spencer never suspected a thing. 

He waits until they’re far enough into the park to have a little seclusion and privacy to stop walking, accidentally interrupting Spencer’s ramble about his most recent documentary as he pulls gently on their interlocked hands to get him to pause walking, too. Derek’s on one knee by the time he turns around, velvet box in his hand, and Spencer’s hands fly straight to cover his mouth in surprise. 

“Spencer, you are the love of my life. I didn’t think I’d ever settle down, I knew not to expect love, but then I met you. And I fell head over heels for you, baby. You’re everything I need for the rest of my days, and I don’t want to spend a single moment of the time I have left without you by my side. Now, although I know what you’re going to say, and this isn’t the most romantic surprise anyone’s ever pulled off: Dr Spencer Reid, will you do me the honour of agreeing to be my husband?”

“Oh my God,” Spencer says, tears streaming down his face, “Derek, yes, of course I will.”

He doesn’t waste another moment on his knees, springing up and wrapping his boy in a tight hug, before pulling back slightly, gripping Spencer’s face in his hands and kissing him gently. He’s never had a way with words, not like his future husband, so he tries to convey everything he doesn’t know how to say with the way he kisses him. 

When they pull away, he thinks he’s succeeded by the look on Spencer’s face. Derek takes his finger and slides the engagement ring on; a simple silver band with a line of deep-set diamonds running through its centre that fits him perfectly. He passes the box to Spencer who catches on and does the same to Derek, pushing the matching band onto his fourth finger. They stand there, in the middle of a park with their heads bent together, staring at their hands for an inordinate amount of time. 

“Soon it will be us slow dancing on a mahogany dance floor,” Derek murmurs, lifting his right hand to the nape of Spencer’s neck, winding his fingers around the small curly hairs there. 

“Can we use that Sinatra song for our first dance?” Spencer asks, and his eyes are so open and earnest, they take Derek’s breath away for a moment.

He huffs a laugh as he leans forward to rest his forehead against his fiancé’s. “Baby, I’d give you anything you asked for, you know that,” he promises, but really The Way You Look Tonight would be his first choice, too. Their first date had been at a late night café, and towards the end of the night the cover band playing in the corner had played the Sinatra classic. With a little persuasion, Derek had got Spencer out of his seat and they’d danced happily to the music, not caring that they were the only ones dancing. 

They’d danced to it countless times in the kitchen since, and it had slowly grown into their song as their relationship had bloomed. Really, using any other song would be a crime. 

“You’re lovely, with your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft,” Derek sings into Spencer’s ear as they continue their walk through the park, making him giggle happily. 

“There is nothing for me but to love you,” Spencer sings back, linking their hands again.

“And the way you look tonight,” they finish together, collapsing into laughter as their tuneless voices join together in an ugly harmony. 

“I do love you Spencer Reid,” Derek sighs, happiness filling him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

“Not as much as I love you, Derek Morgan,” Spencer argues, pressing even closer to his fiancé’s side. 

As they tease one another lovingly, Derek realises that he can’t wait to have this argument for the rest of his life.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @drinkingcroissants

[annetteblog]

Intro & My take on KM

Hi!

I’m new around here so it’s supposed to be (not so short) introduction, since I don’t know how to start a blog heh. I hope to sprinkle my 0.5 cents into the KM conversation and maybe to bring a new perspective from someone, who is not a part of the typical English-speaking West.

Who /the hell/ Am I?  

(please, consider it to be said with NJ’s voice from Intro: Persona :D)

I was born in Siberia (it’s in the Asian part of Russia), currently live in the European part of the country while studying at a Uni (European in terms of geography, not in terms of everything else i’m definitely not shading rn lolllll). English is not my first language, I’ve just kind of learnt it to some extent. Due to this it takes me more time to write a post; and I may (and will) make some grammatical & other mistakes. Plus I’m lazy AND busy with Uni, so I won’t even promise to be consistent in posting smth lol. But I thought I need more practice in terms of writing in English, so here I am, actually scribbling something. This feels weird, because I’ve been around stan Tumblr since 2015, but never ever interacted, just read.

How I ended up around Jikook/Kookmin (and BTS) & My (long&messy) take on this matter

Although I had heard of BTS before, I became an Army only in October 2018. I had kinda avoided them, because you know... boybands.... sing songs about romantic love and how they love girls.......... (+I had been around Twitter when 1D been at their peak and I remember a quite toxic community of fans, whom always had scared me). Shortly, hello stereotypes. Obviously, after I got engaged I felt terribly sorry that I had been sleeping on them, but what is done cannot be undone. 

Someone I knew back then reposted one of their MVs and I, during my sad hours of procrastination, decided to watch it. Then I saw their live performance with the same song. And I thought “wow these guys can sing and dance and the music is kinda cool, i need to check this out maybe??” 

Then a funny thing happened. One of the next videos I watched (the same person had it added to their page) was a 2016 BangtanBomb where JM and JK practiced their Coming of Age dance. 

Do you know this moment with Gina from the 1st episode of Brooklyn 9-9:

Well, that was precisely me after I watched it. I don’t even know how to explain this, it was kind of a gut feeling? Whatever you call it, I started to get suspicious and couldn’t even explain to myself why. /actually now a do have questions to this vid and the main one - why does everyone cringe that much? if it’s a girly choreo than they had done some “girly” moves before. why is there such strong reaction??/

I started to get deeper and went to some ru-shipper communities. Shipping culture among Russian speaking fans is... well, weird to some extent, but I maybe address this topic some time later. You need to consider that (as far as you probably know) Russia is quite homophonic country and sadly is not the greatest place for LGBTQ+ community at the moment. The non-frienly influential attitudes hanging in the society + the general shippers’ weirdness = the result is not that nice honestly. 

I struggled for some time in order to find more mature people (not just in terms of age but in general sanity), failed, ended up with some EXTREMELY toxic ru-fans of TK, which was/is the most popular pairing here, spent among them like 15 minutes and ran away horrified. After that I didn’t even try to engage with shippers or believers or whatever of any pair and just decided to enjoy the music and the content (which is a great idea, highly recommend!)

After a couple of days I discovered that JK makes videos. I love video, films and visual art so I immediately found them on YT, saw the titles with names of different cities from all over the world and was like “Oh that must be so cool, he’s visited so many outstanding places I’ve never been to, so I really need to watch it! I shall enjoy some beautyyy”. Then I clicked on GCFt.

Well, what can I say. I did enjoy some beauty, but not the type I had initially anticipated. The biggest clickbait in my entire life. JK should be proud of himself.

                                       /as I said - the beauty/

I had already known Troy back then and I known the song’s lyrics so it would not be an underestimation to say - the video just blew my mind. I was like - hold on is this real? seriously?? no really really????? he manage to get away with something THAT obvious?????? dude how

As a person who edited videos AND is not a native English speaker, I don’t buy the explanation “oh he mustve didnt get the lyrics lmao”. You just don’t do that. You don’t. DON’T. You google and translate every shit you don’t understand, every word and idiom you’ve never encountered, because otherwise the possibility of an epic failure is very likely. You wouldn’t want to give your mum a video as a birthday present and then discover that you used a song with WAP-ish lyrics, right? (well maybe that would be okay in your family, I don’t judge, but that’s not the case for people I know). So don’t you dare to degrade JK’s intellectual capacities; such assumption is really offensive. He is a smart boii, he knows exactly what he’s doing in terms of his art.

So I was shocked, but decided to look for the context - maybe I missed some previous events regarding this Tokyo thing (another great idea - always check the context). Well, apparently I didn’t, because the whole narrative with the trip for two, lovely selfies etc. made my poor brain lowkey explode. (I still don’t buy the rings theory thing though)

But I didn’t give up lol! I’m a bit stubborn and it’s very hard to convince me in anything, so I decided to search for more context, more of their interactions, moreeee. Remember, the late October 2018, there were no swan lakes, RB, and even MMA18 hadn’t happened yet. 

This time I ended up watching content in more or less consistent way, and when I saw all of these scenes with affectionate JM and a cool badass i-don’t-care-about-anyone-i’m-a-manly-man-with-no-feelings-whatsoever JK, I just hysterically laughed. 

Homophobic Russia, remember? I recognized this. Growing up here being LGBT myself, taught me the same type behaviour during my high school days. When a girl I kinda liked but didn’t what to admit it to myself was nice to me or (oh god) flirted with me, I did something similar. It’s like a huge panic mode. Being an introvert doesn’t help either. The funniest thing is that you may not entirely realise what exactly is going on in terms of your own feelings, especially at that age (16-18ish). In my personal case, I thought I liked her but as a friend, only later to realise that well not as a friend oops :DDD The second thing (already not so funny) is that you actually consciously or unconsciously try to avoid the subject as much as possible, as long as possible and pretend that nothing is going on. We’re just bros. Stop doing this stupid gayish thing and don’t look at me like that, you’re annoying. If you ever do this again I (gently) kick you. I’m straighter than a straight line in my math textbook. IDK, but probably that’s your brain is somehow trying to protect you. Again, in my case&position I knew that the consequences for any non-straight person being outed would be bad (TW not to the point of being killed bad, but to the point of being excluded from a big part of society). So for me it was a mixture of the internalized homophobia + lack of self reflection + just being a bit emotionally slow + very! straight community around. Shit happens, I was a teenager and made my share of mistakes, but that experience helps me to recognize the same pattern of behaviour up to this day.   

So coming back to KM, because the post is already waaay too long and I just ramble. It’s been 2+ years for me being a part of this fandom, and what can I say... Things become more intense and eventful with every year passing by ;) Funny how I felt that vibe from the 2016 dance practice video. Seeing the Black Swan performance a week ago almost had me choked, no joking. They are amazing.

                                                    Pure Art

However, and I would like to emphasize that, I do not incline that KM are 100% romantically involved and/or gay or whatever. I tend to treat people with respect and not to make too much assumptions about their private life. That’s not my business. However, I’m also not a fan of heteronormativity, so I’m just sitting here and observe everything that’s going on putting some distance and not forgetting being generally polite and critical thinking. But if they are just straightest besties please give them an Oscar before Grammy

Anyways, I hope this blog won’t kick the bucket from the very start and I will post something every now and then. You can always ask me questions about some BTS/Jikook related stuff or something about Russia and a��Russian view on mass culture topics, since I’m pretty sure some of you have very stereotypical view of what is going on here :) However, do note that I’ve never been to America or Europe, therefore I may not be aware of something verrrry obvious to you or just have a completely different experience. 

P.S.  And yeah, I’m used to say Jikook, since it’s the name which is used much more frequently in Russian.  i like it better and what will u do haha

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Or on FF

Tagging:   @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda

Chapter 6: Muscle Memory

Emma woke with a headache and a slew of questions from Ruby.

Why is there a painting in our room?

Who the hell is Walsh?

Just what are you doing all day when you disappear?

Emma just grumbled about rich stalkers and stumbled to the bathroom for a warm shower. As she stood under the hot water, she hoped the steam would blow it all away and make the annoyances of dealing with Walsh disappear.

Unfortunately, the painting staring back at her as she opened the bathroom door brought her back to the immediate reality that this man she barely knew, gave her a painting that he just bought for more money than she made in months because he thought she was beautiful.

His attention made her uncomfortable, it unsettled her. She wasn’t sure why he continued to pursue her, but she was going to make sure he understood that his gift was not appropriate.

Stepping out of her room, she ran into August who was limping along the hallway. “Need assistance?”

“Emma, you are a welcome sight.” He grinned and she stepped up beside him to offer her shoulder to lean on. “I’m on my way to the medical bay.”

She gave him a knowing glance and pursed her lips together. “Hmm, this seems to be happening often.”

“Hey, I’m an injured man.” He replied incredulously.

“With a very pretty and attentive nurse.”

“Is she pretty?” He said with a smirk, “I never noticed.”

“Mmhm, you know if you lie, it makes your nose grow.”

“That’s a child’s fairytale, you don’t scare me.” He teased, reaching up to tap his nose. “See, no change.”

They reached the medical wing and August’s face brightened when Tink walked up to them. “There’s my favorite patient.”

“Good morning, Ms. Bell, my friend Emma made sure I got here safely.”

“Hi Emma. Nice to see you again. Your friend is in good hands, I’ll make sure he gets back to his room safely, in case you have plans.”

“Oh yes, August definitely thinks that you take great care of him, I leave you in his charge.” She winked at August as she left the room.

She turned the corner and ran directly into a man in uniform. “Emma, what a pleasant surprise.” He looked in the direction she had come from, concern slipping onto his face. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, just dropping my friend August off for his daily flirting session.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry, I think my friend has a crush on one of your nurses.”

“I suppose you know what the ship’s name stands for right? TLC, tender loving care. Seems only fair that he be taken care of properly.”

She laughed lightly. “Well, I think he’s a satisfied customer then.”

“Happy to hear that my crew is meeting expectation.” His gaze scanned her face, causing her body to heat up suddenly. “Well, I must continue on my duties. Captain’s job is never done.”

“Of course, you do have an important job here.” Disappointed to see him leaving, she started to walk away when she felt his hand on her elbow.

“I was wondering if you would be interested in joining me on the sky bridge this evening. I hear tonight will offer a beautifully clear night for star gazing, a favorite activity of mine while at sea.”

“Star gazing with the Captain, I don’t remember seeing that listed as an option on the excursion board.” She teased. “I’d be honored.” His mouth turned upward slightly, her heart pounding in her chest when his tongue darted out across his bottom lip.

“I’ll see you there, Miss Swan.”

Emma was in a haze the rest of the day, flitting about from activity to activity with anticipation. She couldn’t wait for the opportunity to get more alone time with Killian. Stargazing was lovely, but she wanted nothing more than to gaze into the galaxy held within his bright blue orbs.

Emma practically skipped to the dining room to meet her friends for dinner that evening, but as she rounded the corner, her eyes caught sight of the one man she wanted to avoid. Walsh.

He looked up and she knew he had noticed her approaching him, there was no avoiding this. She marched up to him and he immediately stopped her before she could speak.

“Emma, I do hope you liked my gift.”

“Actually, I was coming over here to tell you that I think it’s inappropriate to send me something that cost so much, considering we don’t even know each other.”

“Emma, it was not my intent to offend you. You liked the painting, and I wanted to get it for you.”

“Why? You don’t even know me.”

“But I wish to get to know you better. Can’t you allow me that much?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, you knew I was with someone the night we first met.”

He looked around. “I haven’t seen him with you since. Seems if a man had such a beautiful woman on his arm, he would be foolish to leave her alone so often.”

“That is clearly none of your business.”

“Please, Emma, surely my gift has granted me some favor, perhaps you could join me for dinner.”

“I have plans.” She stated simply and turned to walk away. “I’ll make sure you get your painting back.” Without turning around, she made her way to her table.

“There she is.” David announced as she sat down. “We were wondering where you have been all day.”

“I helped gimpy down to the medical wing, took in some trivia, a couple other activities, and then I needed to take care of something.” She looked over at Ruby and Will who both knew about the painting.

“Bloody shame, you could sell that thing.” Will huffed.

“Sell what?”

“Emma’s has an admirer who gifted her a very expensive painting last night.”

“Oh, are you finally warming up to the idea of this cruise?” Her brother mused.

“Absolutely not, and I’m returning the painting, the guy creeps me out.”

“I apologize, should I leave?” Graham looked apprehensively at the table as he approached them at the end of Emma’s sentence.

“Sorry, I was talking about this rich guy that won’t leave me alone.”

Graham wiped his brow and took a seat beside Ruby. “Do you need me to have him arrested.” He grinned.

“I don’t think you have jurisdiction out here on the water, but that’s not necessary. He’s harmless, just determined.” She groaned.

“Well, if he doesn’t back off, the Captain of the ship can take care of issues like that, he has maritime jurisdiction.”

Emma’s head shot up at the mention of the Captain. “Seriously guys, I took care of it. I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need to run to the Captain just because some guy acts like a jerk.”

She would prefer to use the Captain for more erotic activities.

The subject was interrupted when dinner was served, and Emma welcomed the change of discussion to keep her mind from wandering into a place it didn’t belong before she met with Killian tonight.

“So, Emma, a bunch of us are going to the dance club tonight, want to join us?” Graham looked over at her and Emma smiled politely.

“What time are you guys heading over? I planned to go to the gym for a bit, but I can meet you guys there.”

“Why the bloody hell are you stepping foot in a gym while you’re on vacation?” Will argued. “You’re on a cruise ship, who works out on a bloody cruise ship?”

“A lot of people, William. It’s kind of nice, the view is amazing.”

“Suit yourself, I think you’re quite mad.”

Emma had no plans of meeting the group this evening. All through dinner the only thing on her mind was spending time alone with Captain Jones. While she found that she enjoyed his company, it was the butterflies amassing in her stomach that surprised her. She was both nervous and excited to get to spend more time talking to him. As much as she detested the premise of coming on a ship to hook up with eligible bachelors, she couldn’t deny her attraction to the devilishly handsome Captain. Nor did she want to. The anticipation of his body in close proximity to hers was enough to have her squirming under the table.

“Emma are you alright?” Emma jumped, banging her knee under the table.

“Sorry what?” She glanced up to see everyone staring at her.

“I asked what you were thinking of wearing tonight.” Ruby sat staring at her curiously while Emma stammered about needing to go through her closet to see what she had.

~*~

Killian was pacing on the bridge thinking about his upcoming evening with Emma Swan. He hadn’t been this delighted about being alone with a woman in years. Well, perhaps delighted but also anxious and positively full of nerves.

“Captain, I looked up the woman you wanted me to find, but there is no one on the ship by the name of Emma Swan.”

Killian stopped pacing. “Are you quite sure?”

“I had them check twice just in case. Anything else you need from me, Captain?”

“No, thank you for checking sir.” Killian dismissed the man and frowned. How did a woman he had physically spoken to, not exist on the ship?

He pulled the pocket watch from the chain on his hip, time seeming to slow to a stop the closer it got to meeting with Emma.

“Somewhere to be, Captain?” He looked up to see his First Mate approaching him. He nodded. “Captain, we have things handled here.”

“Thank you, Smee. Let me know if anything is needed.”

He excused himself from the bridge and returned to his quarters. He tried to calm his nerves as he stood on his balcony, watching the sun falling toward the choppy waters at the horizon. When the ball of fire finally dipped into the surface of its lover, he left his room to wait for Emma on the top deck.

As he approached, he realized he was not alone on the sky deck.

“Emma?”

She turned, her golden hair glowing in the moonlight.

“Hey, I uh, was hiding out so I thought I’d come up here a bit early.”

“And what, pray tell, would you be hiding from?

“Doesn’t matter.” She approached him, her eyes glimmering as she met his gaze. “I believe I was promised star gazing.”

“Aye.” He took her hand and guided her to the corner of the deck, sitting down in the large lounger and patting the spot next to him. She stood thinking for a moment before joining him on the chair, melting into his side.

“So, Captain, what are we looking for?”

He took her hand and pointed it toward the sky, “Right there, you see that bright star?” She nodded. “That’s Deneb, the star sits at the tail of the constellation, Cygnus.” He turned toward her, meeting her eyes. “That’s the Swan. Mythology says that the Cygnus is actually Zeus in disguise on his way to a tawdry tryst.” He laughed, then traced her hand across the sky. “That star, that’s Albireo, it sits at the Swan’s head and if you are lucky enough to view her from a microscope, you would be blessed with the sight of not one, but two stars huddled together.”

“Where did you learn all of this?”

“My mother used to take Liam and I to our rooftop at night, she would tell us tales of the constellation and the Gods. After she passed, it was the one thing I took solace in, in a way, I suppose it allowed me to continue to communicate with her in some way.”

“That’s beautiful. When did you lose your mother?”

“Oh, I was but a young lad of four.”

“I’m so sorry, are you close with your father.”

“No, it was just Liam and I, my father left shortly after my mother died.”

“So, you were all alone?”

“Liam took good care of me. He did the best he could being a young man himself. But he raised me right, taught me to sail, he joined the Navy after I came of age and of course I followed him. Everything I have, all of this, I owe to him.” She was lost in thought beside him. “And what of your parents, are you close?” She laughed but it wasn’t a pleasant laugh which caught him off guard. “Just who are you, Swan.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

“It’s not a pleasant story.” She said as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“You and I have that in common it seems.” He said sadly.

She sighed and relaxed beside him. “I never knew my parents, they left me, wrapped in a blanket on the steps of a police station when I was just a few months old. No note, just dropped me off like I was a donation at Goodwill or something.”

He swallowed hard; it was not a pleasant tale to be sure.

“Anyway, the Nolan’s adopted me, gave me a last name. But they passed when I turned 16, car accident. But my brother, David, he raised me, he’s a good man and he tried to do the best he could with an unruly teenager.”

“Is that why I couldn’t find you in the ship’s register?”

“You were looking me up?” She mused.

“I was merely curious.”

She narrowed her eyes before continuing, “I used the name Swan when I ran away from home.”

“Well, aren’t you a surprise? Your brother must have been distraught.”

“He was, like many sad stories, I met a guy, who I thought meant something to me. I mean, I wanted him to mean something so of course, he disappointed me. And it sucked and it changed my life.” She turned toward him, rolling slightly in the chair to face him. “You ever want something to work out so bad that your whole world falls out from under you when you lose it?”

He nodded, “Aye.” A lump forming in his throat.

“That’s what happened to me when Neal left. Things got hard and he ran, and I thought my world was over. But…” She stopped talking, looking back up at the sky.

“I was married.” He said suddenly.

“What?”

“I was married for two years.” He said softly.

“But you’re not married now?”

He shook his head sadly. “She died three years ago. Aneurysm. One day she was here, and then…just gone.” He snapped his fingers.

“Oh God, that must have been terrible.”

“One of the worst days of my life.” He felt her fingers trace the flesh at his arm and he turned toward her, a look of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Life isn’t fair.” She said sadly. “Is it?”

She was staring at him, sadness sitting behind the green in her eyes. The wind was blowing across the bow, sending her hair in waves across her forehead. He reached out and brushed the strands from her face.

“Do you want to kiss me?” She whispered, reaching out to grab his hand before he pulled it away from her face.

“Does the lady wish for me to kiss her?” He asked, his heart speeding up in his chest.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it since you kissed me on the bridge.”

“I was afraid I had overstepped.” She sat up, her eyes meeting his.

“I hadn’t been kissed in seven years.” She said softly and all he could think of was what a damn shame that was. “Why should everyone else on board this ship get to have fun except for us?”

“Is that what we’re doing? Having fun, Emma?” He paused before continuing. “I do wish to kiss you, again. I just…”

She frowned, “I understand if…” He pressed his hand to her lips, silencing her.

“It’s been three years, Emma. I’m rusty.” The corner of his lips turned up, “But I think I’d like to figure it out.” Her lips puckered, kissing the pad of his finger that was resting on her lip and he felt shivers race down his spine. His thumb pressed against her jaw line, sliding his hand to her neck, and bending forward to capture her lips with his. Her fingers slid into his hair, eliciting a light moan from his throat.

The kiss was intoxicating, she tasted of chocolate and honey and the moment her tongue slipped from her mouth, he allowed her entrance, their tongues tangling in a heat of desire, his hands exploring the curves of her torso. When his fingertips touched skin at her waist, she moaned wantonly into his mouth and he dropped his head against her neck.

“There may be others on deck.” He breathed against her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

She pulled back, staring at him. “Perhaps the Captain can give me a tour of a more private location?” She said softly and he chuckled.

“I think that can be arranged.”

~*~

Emma couldn’t believe what she had said, did she really just ask him to take her somewhere private? Did she intend to sleep with him, a man she had only met a few days ago? Emma was not a reckless person, having Henry at such a young age had taught her to be responsible, never stepping outside of the lines she had set for herself.

And now she was stumbling down the hallways of a cruise ship, her mouth pressed against the Captain of the ship, her body on fire, burning to have him touch her, take her, devour her. She needed this, needed him. She never allowed herself a moment to have something she wanted, everything she ever did was for Henry. With her back pressed up against the door, his hand in her hair, his tongue hot against her ear, she decided that she could have one moment to take something she wanted.

The door pushed open and she fell backwards into the room, his hand steadying her at her back. “Woah, sorry, I think I’m a bit anxious.”

“I’m glad it’s not just me.” She looked around the room. “Holy shit, is this your room.”

He chuckled. “It’s a bit much, I know.”

She wandered through the room, finding a full living room, doors heading off in both directions. “How many rooms do you have?”

He held up his hand, counting on his fingers, “Living room, dining, bedroom, guestroom, and two bathrooms. It’s a bit obscene.” He laughed before stopping to lean against the wall of the door frame, his eyes dark and wanting. She walked slowly toward him. “Shit.” He swore and she stopped in her tracks. “I apologize, Lass, I am out of practice. I’m afraid I don’t have any protection with me, I had no intention of…”

She stopped in front of him, her lip turning upward. “Well, lucky for you, my best friend was determined, even under my direct protest, to ensure that I was prepared.” She opened her purse, displaying a full line of condoms. “Unless you’re not interested…”

He advanced on her in one move, pulling her against his body, the bulge pressing against her hip all the answer she needed. The nervous energy and concern she had before they got to the room were gone, replaced instead with curiosity and desire. Emma hoped that the few memories she had of sex would soon replace her inexperience from lack of practice. They stumbled in the dark, tripping over furniture, and Emma could barely hide her embarrassment when her bra clasp got stuck in the threads of her shirt. Standing in the darkened room, one arm free from her strap and the other encumbered in her sleeve. Despite her attempts at trying to look sexy she was the picture of inexperience.

“Perhaps I should rescue you.” He chuckled against her neck, reaching down to assist her, his teeth raking against her flesh causing goosebumps to appear along the length of her arms. “Relax love.” He whispered.

“Sorry, I’m not exactly experienced in hooking up with men.”

She felt his smile along her jaw, “I haven’t done this for 7 years, but I’m pretty sure it hasn’t changed since then.” His fingertips slid from her neck down to her breast. “Perhaps it’s all muscle memory.” His voice was thick in her ear as his thumb rubbed against her nipple, eliciting a groan from her throat. His light chuckle at her response combined with his hot breath in her ear had her dripping with want.

She had only had sex with one other man before. Neal. He was not a talkative lover nor a patient one and while she found sex pleasant, she considered it something she could live without. Emma knew her own body and how to scratch the itch when the feelings arose. Men were never a necessity.

However, as Killian’s hand slid between her thighs, lightly teasing her before he reached up to push her shorts down, she felt her knees give way in anticipation of what was to come. He pushed her back toward the bed, the back of her knees bumping the mattress.

She sat back on the bed, his eyes staring down at her as he stood in front of her. With shaky hands she grabbed his belt, pulling the leather through the loops and sliding it to the floor beside her. Her heart was pounding as she fumbled with the buttons, pushing the pants from his hips to his ankles. He pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him in his boxers in front of her.  His thumb hooked under her chin, pulling her eyes up to meet his. “You really are quite beautiful, Emma.”

She gulped, sliding her hands up the bed to pull her body upwards. She felt the bed dip as his knees pressed into the mattress. He pulled her foot up his body, massaging her calf with his hand before bending to press his lips where his hands had been.  His fingers continued their way toward the apex of her thigh, his mouth not far behind, peppering hot kisses to each part of her flesh. Emma’s entire body felt like it was on fire as he slowly inched toward her most aching desire.

Their eyes connected before he dipped between her thighs, her entire body tensing when his tongue slid between her folds. She could barely stop herself from reaching out and gripping his hair in her hand, the other tightening in the folds of the sheet as her head fell backwards on the pillow, her moan echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

If this was what he was like without practice, Emma dared to think what he would be like after a few more tries. Squeezing her eyes shut she pushed away thoughts of continued activities with the man currently pumping his fingers inside of her. This was a fleeting moment, a one-time thing she deserved to experience, however when his teeth raked over her bundle of nerves, his thumb following with pressure, his fingers sliding in and out of her as she screamed out his name, she thought that maybe she really did owe it to herself to make this a two- or three-time thing before she got off the ship.

~*~

Killian was sure that the sound she made as her body tensed and fell apart under his hands was something he could play over and over again and never tire of hearing. Though he hadn’t pleasured a woman since Milah, watching Emma fall over the edge was like cracking a safe, it was intoxicating and worthy of the treasure it provided.

He slid slowly up her body, his teeth nipping at her soft flesh, sucking against her supple skin in ways that he knew would leave a temporary bruise in the morning. He knew he shouldn’t take pleasure in knowing he was marking her body, but it excited him all the same. He was eager to slide into her, to feel her beneath his body, writhing, moaning, all for him. His body was on fire and only she could put out the flames. When their mouths met, she hitched her leg around his hip, and he swallowed her moans, his erection twitching against her mound.

He moved away from her and she whined. “One moment, love, we aren’t going to get far without one of these.” He lunged for the condom on the bed, tearing the corner open with his teeth and reaching between them to sheath himself.

She bit her lip, watching him, the anticipation of what was about to transpire creeping into his brain. She blinked slowly; her hair splayed out on his pillow. He pressed his lips lightly to hers, “Are you…”

“I want you.” She whispered, the moonlight framing her face. His heart was racing as he pressed against her legs, she opened further to him as he positioned himself at her slick opening, slipping slowly inside of her. “Oh God.” Her legs squeezing him, pulling him toward her as he pushed forward, fully seating inside of her.

“Christ.” He grunted, before their lips met hungrily, his tongue slipping into her mouth before he began to thrust into her. Her nails pierced the flesh at his back, bucking her hips into his, sending his body into a frenzy. As if a switch was thrown, their motions became frantic, desperate, and messy, the sounds of moaning, heavy panting, and strangled screams invading the normally serene ocean sounds around them.

Just when Killian was sure he wouldn’t last any longer she shoved his shoulder, pushing he over onto the bed and sinking down on top of him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would last like this. Her blonde hair cascaded down her naked form, the moonlight glowing on her milky white breasts, her chin tilted toward the ceiling with her mouth open, soft moans falling from her lips.

“Emma, look at me, darling.” He reached out, taking her hand, and bringing it between them, intertwining their fingers against her clit. Their eyes made contact and she screamed out, squeezing his cock in her warm slick until he could hold back no longer, spilling into the condom as he bucked into her body. When her hips finally stilled against his, he reached up, his hand trailing her spine, pulling her down to him and twisting her to her side, his lips pecking softly at her jaw.

“I hope that was at least as good as you remembered sex to be.” He smirked.

“Oh God no.” She exclaimed before laughing and he frowned. “I mean, I’ve never experienced anything like that.” She added.

“My apologizes, for your past lover then.”

Her head fell back on the pillow as she broke into a fit of giggles that was almost music to his ears. “I don’t know what I find more attractive, the sounds you were making a minute ago or the ones you are making now.” He said lazily and she pulled back to stare at him before she started fumbling around for her clothes.

“You are welcome to stay, if you would like.” She turned to look at him.

“I would, but Ruby would ask a million questions if I didn’t come back to the room tonight. She’s already going to wonder why I didn’t come to the dance.”

He sat up, kissing her bare shoulder as she tried to gather her clothes to dress. “Emma.” He said softly against her skin. “I want you to know that I do not normally behave this way.”

She laughed again, “You mean have sex with your passengers?”

“Well that yes, but…”

She turned, “Killian, I wouldn’t be here if I thought that of you. You don’t have to explain. I find you attractive, I enjoyed the evening, we are two consenting adults.”

“I’d very much like to see you again.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we are stuck out here on the ocean for another week then. I can’t see how we wouldn’t see each other.”

He narrowed his eyes, “That is hardly what I meant.”

She leaned forward, nudging her nose into his neck. “I’m just teasing you.” She nipped at his ear. “I want to see you again too.” His arm went around her waist and he pulled her backward onto the bed. Their mouths connecting hungrily.

“It’s still early, Swan. I don’t have to check in on the bridge for another hour.” She giggled into his mouth, “It would be a shame to waste all those condoms.” When he felt her hand wrap around his cock, he thought perhaps he could be a little late to the bridge.

[sleep-i-ness]

Dance With Me (Steve Rogers x reader)

FOR SSB21

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: None? A little alcohol and rich people being hypocritical

Word Count: 1.9k

Square Filled: Dancing

Summary: You’ve been assigned a recon mission at a fancy ball and you’re dreading it, most of all because you’re pretty certain your partner is your colleague Mark. But you’re pleasantly surprised.

A/N: Yes I busted the end of this out in 30 minutes because I hit 500 followers and I thought it was deserved. Enjoy!

You tugged at the zip of your gown, huffing as it refused to budge. When you’d been assigned to a reconnaissance mission, you had assumed it would be simple subterfuge. Ducking around corners, your usual gear and more of an in-and-out situation. Instead, you were dolled up to the nines in a dress you could hardly breathe in and no weapons. You were posing as a couple with a colleague; you weren’t sure who, but you were hoping that it wasn’t Mark. You were sure he was a lovely guy, but something about him unsettled you so you had never stayed close enough to him to ever find out.

A knock at the door interrupted your train of thought, attention slipping, and you hissed as you stabbed your scalp with a bobby pin. Dammit. Mouth full of hair grips, you spat them out onto the desk once you’d deemed that your bun was virtually indestructible.

“Coming,” you called, silky-soft fabric swishing around your ankles as you rushed to the door. How on earth were you meant to fight if you encountered any trouble?

Pulling the door open, you smiled politely at Commander Hill, waiting for the rest of the mission debrief. Although you loved your job, it was very last-minute prep-wise, and you would have preferred to have the information more than 30 minutes before going in.

“Agent Y/L/N.” Hill nodded at you, flicking through something on her tablet.

“Commander Hill. Come in.”

Your room was sparse; simple SHIELD accommodation while you waited to be deployed, no knick-knacks or personal belongings because you were never too long in one place. Hill hovered beside you as you returned to the desk, touching up your mascara with a brush of the wand.

“You will be undertaking a reconnaissance mission at the annual Clanwing Ball. All the richest people in the world will be in attendance and you are looking out for this man, a Mr Ian Quinn, owner of Quinn Worldwide.” Hill held up a picture of an attractive man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. You scanned his features, committing every last wrinkle to memory. “We believe that he is interested in an element known as Gravitonium, discovered by our very own Franklin Hall, and it is your job to find out if he is looking for funding or any further information on the subject. You have been paired with Captain Steve Rogers.”

Steve Rogers? You couldn’t lie, you felt a lot more at ease now you had an Avenger at your side. It was surprising that someone with such a recognisable face had been chosen to accompany you, but perhaps that was the whole point. There was no point wasting time mulling it over; you’d never be able to understand the inner workings of Director Fury’s mind.

“Understood. Where will I be meeting Captain Rogers?”

“At the Avengers Tower in Manhattan. A car has been arranged to transport you.”

The car rolled to a stop in the garage, seeming out of place amongst the collection of expensive vehicles. The door was opened for you and you stepped out, smoothing down any creases in your skirt. You let your eyes trail up the man in front of you, offering a small smile. Your gaze moved from the polished black shoes, army clean, to the spotless black trousers, to the crisp white shirt, tight black waistcoat and matching tailored blazer.

“Captain Rogers, a pleasure,” you offered your hand, which he shook effusively.

“Likewise, Agent Y/L/N. Please call me Steve,” Captain Rogers chuckled politely, looking almost as uncomfortable in the suit as you felt in your dress.

“Well then, you should call me Y/N.” You grinned, readjusting a slipping strap.

Steve offered you his arm, inclining towards you slightly. You took it, trying not to seem too eager as you followed.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of asking Tony – Mr Stark to speak with us as he has had dealings with Quinn in the past. Director Fury has expressed the importance of the mission’s success which is why we met here, rather than at the main facility.”

You nodded; he was very serious, and you hoped that the evening wouldn’t be too dull. Maybe Mark would have been an improvement.

Any complaints were wiped from your mind as you stepped out of the elevator, eyes widening almost imperceptibly as you caught sight of the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows. You would bet that they were a massive security issue, but the view was worth it. Manhattan was spread out in front of you and you felt like a god with the city at your feet.

A low whistle broke your reverie and you spun, making eye contact with an amused-looking Tony Stark. He sauntered over to you, slinging an arm over your shoulder, and, out of the corner of your eye, you caught Steve rolling his eyes.

“What do you think?”

“The view is incredible,” you murmured.

“I’d say there’s something much more beautiful right next to me.”

You glanced back at Steve. “Oh, well, Steve is gorgeous.”

Stark chuckled. “I like you.” He sipped on his drink, swirling the ice cubes round as Steve stepped up next to you. “Hey, hey, no need to get all possessive Cap.”

“Stark.” There was a warning tone in Steve’s voice as he raised one perfect eyebrow.

Stark clapped his hands together. “So, you want to know about Ian Quinn? Well, he’s your typical billionaire; arrogant, loves beautiful women, so you’ll have no problem there,” he sent you a wink, “and pretty much believes he’s untouchable. Make it worth the chase for him and get him to brag.”

Was that not obvious?

Bright lights flashed as you stepped out the car, clutching onto Steve as you would a life ring. You fixed a pearly smile onto your face, cheeks aching by the time you got through the doors and away from the cameras. You just hoped that they wouldn’t be particularly interested in publishing the ones of you; you’d have to speak to Director Fury or Commander Hill about stopping any publication in case it would jeopardise your career.

Woah. Any thoughts of work slipped from your mind as you descended the grand staircase, admiring the grand opulence surrounding you. Polished marble frescoes decorated the walls and ceiling, spotted with Renaissance-like artwork. It felt like the Sistine Chapel, only tackier. Bright gowns shimmered and sparkled in the sea of moving bodies, shining like gems amongst the darker tuxedos. However, among them was an unavoidable obstacle. Bodyguards stood at every corner, aquiline eyes following their principles. You would be unable to sneak off at any point with this many eyes on the floor.

You tugged Steve over to the side of the ballroom, avoiding the twirling couples as you made your way across to a less populated section. As a waiter passed, you grabbed two flutes of champagne, offering one out to Steve, who shook his head.

“Alcohol doesn’t do much for me.”

“Can’t let it go to waste, I guess.” You downed one after the other, returning them to a nearby waiter’s tray. God, they were everywhere. You guessed rich people must be able to afford that many staff.

You turned your body to face Steve, stepping closer into his personal space; to any nosy onlooker you’d seem deep in conversation which allowed you both to scan the room for the man you were looking for.

“Can you see him?” Your gaze returned to his face, roving over the sculpted jaw and enviably long lashes.

Steve hesitated. “No.”

Damn it. You could see little from your corner and you doubted Steve could see much more, despite his height.

“Dance with me, Steve.”

Leaving him no time to answer, you pulled him into the midst of the bodies, slipping a hand onto his shoulder. He begrudgingly took your hand, placing his other on your waist as you began the waltz. 1,2,3..1,2,3.. You spun and dipped as though it was second nature, Steve’s hands catching you in the right position as you twirled out and back into his arms.

“Anything?” He murmured as he dipped you, eyes locking onto yours.

You righted yourself, glancing over his shoulder. “Nothing.”

The orchestra grew to a crescendo, players moving in synchronisation as the conductor waved frantically. It was so much better dancing with a live orchestra than practising in a cold room with a recording. Especially when you had a man like Steve as your partner.

The man in question glanced back at you, raising an eyebrow as he caught you staring at him. You looked away hurriedly, pretending you had been surveying the floor the entire time.

“Although I’m sure I’m interesting to look at, as you told Tony,” you grimaced, “Quinn seems to be hiding from me so I think it would help to keep your eyes on the floor.”

You paused. “Shut it, Rogers.”

He pulled you close, returning to the classic 3-step as you revelled in being so close to his warm chest. It was stupid to feel so secure in his arms, especially on a mission like this one, but there was just something about him.

The strings soon died to a silence as Mr Clanwing himself took to the stage, smiling broadly at the crowd thronging in front of him. Steve’s hand remained on your lower back as you slipped to the edge of the crowd. It was always handy to be able to make a quick escape.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank you, on behalf of the Clanwing Charity, for your generous donations and attendance tonight. It is wonderful to see so many of you show such support for combatting the atrocities in the world.”

You rolled your eyes, zoning out. You really couldn’t be bothered to hear a billionaire prattle on about how he’s helping the poor when he only gives a tiny fraction of his fortune away to avoid having to pay tax.

Steve’s grip on your arm tightened as a crash echoed across the room. Glass from one of the high arching windows shattered across the floor as a raucous group clambered through the frame. Gate-crashers. Mr Clanwing rushed off stage, engaging in furious discussion with a member of staff. You snorted as his face grew redder and redder.

Security quickly surrounded them, thick beefy men with biceps twice the size of your head, but the damage was done. The mood was dampened and already you could hear whispers across the crowd and shuffling feet as people thought about leaving.

“My apologies, but it seems that the evening will have to be cut short as there is a health and safety risk due to the glass strewn across the floor and cold winter air. Do not fear, we will attempt to reschedule despite your very busy lives.”

A grumble echoed across the crowd and you sighed. Well that was a waste of time. No Quinn and only two glasses of probably very expensive champagne to make you feel better.

Steve offered you his arm as you manoeuvred through the crowd, hoping to escape before everyone else. You clutched on gratefully. You just wished you could spend a little longer with him.

Steve squeezed your arm softly. “Considering that was a disappointing mission, how about you come back to the Tower and we make up for it with pizza?”

You grinned. “I’d love that.”

-

-

marvel tags: @1marvelavengers1​ @neymarlionelmessi7​ @okkulta​ @yourenotafailureoverall​ 

steve tags: @uglipotata72829​ @cheapglitter​ @persephonehemingway​ @a-stressedstudent​ @ccosmic-illusion​ @20coldhearts​ @blackblossomqueen​ @atomic-chickenwings​ @its-evita-here​ @inkandpen22​

ssb21: @star-spangled-bingo​

[jeromesxreader16]

Such a Joker (50)

Part 49 Here

~o0o~

Jim POV:

As I come out of my office I see a large number of cops watching Jeremiah sitting calming in the holding cell. "Don't you all have work you should be doing?" I yell towards them as they scatter.

"Pardon me, Jim."

I walk over to Jeremiah raising my brows. "What is it?" "I'd like to press charges against Bruce Wayne's butler. I mean, just look at my face. I can't have my wife seeing me like this."

I scoff smirking with pure anger, "I think you look great."

"And I'd like to speak to Bruce again. We couldn't really talk before what with his girlfriend bleeding out all over him."

"You tried to prove you're better than your brother. But I'm still here. I'm searching for (Y/n), and the city's still here. You're a failure, Jeremiah. Enjoy Arkham. Your brother did. I'll be the one to make sure (Y/n)'s visiting hours will be less than none."

"Bring me, Bruce Wayne... I'll let you speak with (y/n), and I'll tell you where the other bombs are." I walk closer engaging. "We have all your bombs."

Jeremiah nods with an underlying smirk, "The maze bombs, yes. I mean the other ones. Jim, as an engineer, you expect systems to fail. So, you build in redundancies. And I am a very good engineer."

"You're bluffing."

"Am I?" He smirks at me waiting for a reaction.

"You're right, you know. I did fail. I didn't yet understand the vision I was servicing, but, I do now. My eyes are open as will yours be. When you realize I'm not bluffing, bring me, Bruce Wayne. And I'd like a coffee. Black. Two sugars."

~

"How many bombs are there? Where are they?" I challenge him again. "I want to talk to Bruce Wayne."

"Tell me where they are, you son of a bitch. Who's helping you?"

"Bruce Wayne."

I grunt, shaking my head in frustration, "You are never gonna talk to Bruce Wayne. You hear me?"

Jeremiah shrugs smirking, "Then more people will die and you will never see (Y/n) or meet your grandchildren." I look up meeting his icy eyes with cold blood. "What? You're lying." Jeremiah sighs, "My wallet, right sleeve, forth slot, a sonogram photo of my two twins. I don't bluff, Jim. Why do you think I ask for your blessing? Wouldn't want your daughter unwed and knocked up, huh? But once again you resented her happiness, and she ran right into my arms. You never were good at holding on to what you care about, were you, James?"

~

Bruce finally walks in as I'm strapped to the dolly awaiting transportation to Arkham. "Hello, Bruce. It's great to see you."

"Where are the bombs, Jeremiah? Where is (Y/n) Gordon?"

"Closer, please."

As Bruce teds near I speak again. "Tell me. How is the young lady doing?" Of course no reaction. I smile switching subjects, "You know why we're destined to be best friends? Because we're very much alike. You are as I used to be. At war with your true nature. You must truly embrace it if you ever want to be free. I'm just trying to help you."

"Trying to help me? By torturing Alfred? Trying to destroy Gotham?

By shooting Selina? You think we're alike because there's a darkness inside both of us. But the difference is, I know how to control mine."

I scoff smirking, "I think you could be so strong. I see it. He sees it too." Bruce looks at me confused walking closer. "What do you mean, "he"?"

"Where are the other bombs?"

I roll my eyes looking up at the camera playing the game, "What bombs?" "Bombs you planted around the city. You blew up the Mayor."

"Ah, that bomb. Yes, that was the only one. But it did what it had to do. It got you here."

"You said, "he." Who do you mean?"

I smile gasping at Bruce. "The one who opened up my eyes. Who showed me that everything I was doing, was not to create a Gotham of my own for (y/n), and I, But yours, Bruce. The Gotham you need. Your dark island. And it will come to be, Bruce. Tonight."

"Tell me his name," Bruce demands empty-handed.

"What did the doctors say? Will the little bitch ever walk again? What vertebrae did I sever? I was hoping for the lumbar..." "TELL ME HIS NAME!" I laugh at his anger. "You already know his name. You're his heir."

Bruce gasps letting my suit wings go. "Ra's al Ghul... No, it can't..."

"Shh." The lights flicker as the room goes dark and I am freed from this hold.

~

Enter the building I see (Y/n) waiting with Ra's, overlooking the old city. "Jeremiah! Ra's was just telling me he could marry us!" I grin walking over as the men get Bruce ready for the arrival.

"Could you?" Ra's nods smirking, "Just say when my boy. I can-" "Now." I pull out two solid gold bands passing mine to (Y/n). "You're prepared." She giggles. "I've been waiting."

Ra's chuckles offering off a quick blessing to us as a couple. "Do you Jeremiah Valeska take (Y/n) Gordon as your lawfully wedded wife?" "I certainly do." I grin watching my love. "And do you, (Y/n)-" "Yes." Ra's gestures between us chuckling. "Wonderful, you may kiss your bride, Mr. Valeska."

I scoop her in my arms kissing her deeply. I pull away as the men waltz a masked Bruce into the room. "Ah, hate you missed the ceremony, friend." I walk over pulling the bag off of his head.

"How did you two..." "Find each other?" Ra's finishes, "I'd like to think it was you, Bruce. You brought us together."

Ra's turns to me and (Y/n) as we look at the city. "I trust things went smoothly?" "Like clockwork. Did your men retrieve my bombs?" "They are en route to their positions as we speak. From here, we can take in the full majesty of Gotham's destruction."

"You're both insane!"

Ra's shakes his head in disappointment, "I know it's difficult to fathom, Bruce. But Jeremiah and I are doing this for your benefit."

"How is destroying Gotham supposed to help me?"

"Because I had a vision. That out of this crucible of blood and fire will rise the Dark Knight that your city needs. That I need."

I scoff pulling away from (y/n) and joining Bruce and Ra's. "To be honest, Bruce. Prophecies, visions. Not really my cup of tea. But our friend revealed something to me. That my twin obsessions, rebuilding Gotham and rebuilding you, are one and the same. You're the brother I never had. The one Jerome never could be. We will create a legacy in this city. Gotham falls. We rise. Together."

Barbara walks in passing each of us towards Ra's. "Oh, hey, Bruce. Freak. (Y/n), looking beautiful!"

"Hello, Barbara. I'm really glad you came." She sighs shrugging. "Bad news, baby. I'm not leaving. Gotham's in my blood. And I don't think I can let you leave either. You see, you say you're leaving. But I've got a feeling you're gonna be back. And I don't like looking over my shoulder."

"Need I remind you, Barbara. You've already tried using that knife. And also, you're outnumbered."

She hums smiling "Hmm. That Demon's Head is really not working out for you, huh?" Suddenly Oswald yells striking us and the fight breaks out quickly.

Tabith tackles me to the ground as I search for (Y/n) in a blind panic. She holds her knife to my neck sneering, "So you know, this is for Selina." I flip her overtaking the blade from her and pressing it to her skin. "In that case, it must be very disappointing for you to be dying like this." She smirks and moves her arm. "I'm not talking about you." She pulls her trigger making me search where the bullet traveled.

The bombs go off destroying the city as my wife falls bleeding from the bullet that pierced her. "No!" I growl rushing over. She cries holding her chest. "Jer-" "No, no, don't speak. You're going to be fine." The city burns down as my love's life source lowers.

"You're going to be fine, love. We're all going to be safe. Tomorrow is a new day,"

~

Staying by her bedside the entire night as the doctors work to remove the bullet, and stabilize her and the babies. "She should wake soon, Sir. The children are healthy. She's lucky it wasn't any closer to her heart." I nod boring my eyes into her face.

"Thank you, Doctor."

(y/n) mumbles and opens her eyes slowly. I smile leaning over, "Rise and shine, beautiful." She looks up at me confused, then looks down at her chest gasping, "That bitch." she sneers growling and trying to sit up. "No, no, don't try that." She gasps, putting a hand on her belly. "Jer-" "They're alright, doll. You're very lucky. All four of us are."

She looks over to me putting a hand on my cheek. "What do we do now, Jeremiah?" I smile rubbing my hands on her stomach. "Now, my love, we enjoy our marriage, and wait for our children." Her cheeks glow as I speak of our children. "I love you, Jeremiah." "I love you too, Mrs. Valeska. Always."

~ Day 87~

I sit at the radio discussing yet another call on the state of Gotham to the officials over the bridge. "Your people have decided to ignore evacuation orders." "No, no, no, no. It is clear you don't understand." "What's to understand, Mr. Gordon? I'm afraid you're making your-" "For the last time... after the bridges blew and the government declared Gotham off-limits, the city was up for grabs. Given over to criminals and murderers. New territory is controlled by whoever has enough power to hold it. I mean, we have Penguins in City Hall, for God's sake. Barbara and the Sirens control an area around their club. It's the only place in Gotham not suffering for food or booze. Barabra trades mostly for information. It's women only, but men can buy windows of time. To the west Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow. Victor Freeze is further north warring with Firefly. And to date, there have been no confirmed sightings of Jeremiah Valeska, or my Daughter, (y/n). Then there is us. The GCPD controls a ten-block area around the precinct, where we feed and protect 150 civilians. That number could grow as who knows how many others are trapped around the city. These are innocent people who couldn't get out. The Government has a duty to protect them. You have a duty to help them." I finish waiting for the response.

"We've been over this time and time again. No one is allowed in or out of Gotham."

"People we are protecting are not criminals." "And anyone who stayed after the evacuation order is no longer the government's responsibility." "We're surrounded by hostile forces. We are running out of food, ammunition. There are children here. You need to evacuate them." "A committee is being formed regarding the situation in Gotham."

I huff shaking my head. "At least let us resupply ourselves."

"We understand the situation."

"You DON'T understand. If you did you would do something. Just say we're on our own." The radio waves stay silent as no response comes through. I nod gruffly and turn off the communication.

I look to the corner of the desk seeing a photo of (Y/n), along with the photo of the unborn twins. I sigh holding them to my heart. "Please be okay."

~

"I like Jeremy," Jeremiah says as we relax on the couch together. "And for a girl?" He hums thinking. "What if we stuck with the J name? I kinda like Juliet." Jeremiah looks at me smiling. "I think that's lovely."

I stroke my small belly with love. "I just want them here already." Jeremiah laughs kissing the top of my head. "They'll be perfect."

~

Months pass of us hiding, gaining followers, and then finally start to dig under the city for our escape. Fully 6 months pregnant and things are just seeming harder. "You're sad," Ecco says frowning. She scoots over massaging my shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong." I sigh stroking my stomach feeling a wash of sadness. "I miss my dad. I hate to say it, but I do. These kids won't have a Grandpa." Ecco nods sighing dramatically. "I am so sorry, (Y/n). I wish I could help." I smile leaning my head on her shoulder. "How's that bullet feeling in there?" I tease as she giggles. "It's still rolling around in here!" She shakes her head, knocking the loose pieces in her brain. "I still can't believe you did it." She shrugs giggling, "Anything to help you, (Y/n)."

"Come on, let's see how the boss is. It's been a while since I've seen the progress."

Ecco helps me down the steps into the area where they're digging the large tunnel. "Wow! Looks, good everyone!" I yell, making the workers greet me with forced smiles. "Darling." Jeremiah clams walking to me, placing hands over my stomach with a grin. "Ecco, you're not supposed to bring her down here. It's dangerous." He glares at her. "Jer, I wanted to, she was obeying me." He reluctantly nods waving her away.

I switch the radio station finding a slow song and smiling. "Dance we me, Jer." I grasp his hand swaying with him to the music. "We're close aren't we?" I nod laughing. "Just three more months, Jeremiah." He shutters with a smile. "I can't wait." 

[funknrolll]

Focusing on Prince and the song Avalanche: Lesson learned or....??

Hi my music lovers, today we are celebrating the birthday of the undisputed music legend and virtuoso: Prince Rogers Nelson. Since all that is happening these days, I wanted to offer you guys the chance to reflect on these crucial issues. Therefore I chose to focus only on one song in Prince's vault: Avalanche. In my opinion, this piece is quite relevant to what is happening these days. I really hope I do Prince justice. I hope we can learn something from this article and the lesson Prince taught us. Should there be anything, I missed do not think twice to let me know or contact me. Enjoy the article.

In 2002, Prince released One Nite Alone (Solo Piano and Voice by Prince). As the title suggests, the only accompaniment in this album is the piano. Today I want to offer you the chance to reflect on the song Avalanche. Avalanche. The message delivered with this song is compelling, and the lyrics were magistrally written. Moreover, as many people know, Prince was an avid reader and an extremely educated person who had a vast knowledge not only about music but also about history, in this case. Indeed, with these words, the Artist is referring to some historical events to create one of the most MONUMENTAL protests songs in music history. Before I explain this total MASTERPIECE, I need to mention some crucial points. I will never stress enough about this. We all know that Prince was a black man. However, the fact that he, in some interviews, said things like "I was brought up in a black and white world. Black and white, night and day, rich and poor. I always said that one day I was going to play all kinds of music and not be judged for the color of my skin, but the quality of my work" or quoting his song Controversy "I wish there was no black or white" etcetera... It does not mean he was not conscious and aware or proud of being black. This does not mean that he was not aware of what black people had and still have to endure and go through. Indeed, Prince was extremely knowledgeable of everything that I mentioned, and he was proud of being black, and this is something significantly present in his music, in his sense of style, in his words, lyrics, music videos, concerts, and movies. I'm making this point because I have overheard too many people accusing Prince of not embracing his blackness or even being biracial as the new york times erroneously claimed. None of these things are true. I also heard that the Artist was not aware of what black people had and still are going through and that his music was not "politicized enough." This is another big fat lie. This song is proof. Therefore, before writing and describing this MONUMENTAL song, I thought I needed to re-emphasize this significant point. By the way, Prince's mother was NOT Italian. She was a beautiful black woman. Furthermore, as already mentioned, Artist had extensive historical knowledge and was also conscious and aware of how black people have always been exploited and treated. Moreover, Prince was accustomed to speaking his mind and saying what he meant, and just by reading the superlative and poignant lyrics, we could see that the Artist was quite straight-forwarded in writing this piece. Indeed:

He was not or never had been in favor

 Of setting are people free

 If it wasn't for the thirteenth Amendment

 We woulda been born in slavery

 He was not or never had been in favor

 Of letting us vote, so you see...

 Abraham Lincoln was a racist who said

 "You cannot escape from history "Like the snow comin' down the mountain

 That landed on Wounded Knee

 Nobody wants to take the weight 

 The responsibilityHear the joyous sound of freedom

 The Harlem Renaissance

 Hear Duke Ellington and his band

 Kick another jungle jam

 Ooh, do you wanna dance?

 Who's that lurking in the shadows?

 Mr. John Hammond with his pen in hand...

 Sayin' "Sign you're kingdom over to me

 And be known throughout the land!"

 But, you ain't got no money, you ain't got no cash

 So you sign yo name, and he claims innocence

 Just like every snowflake in an avalanche...Like the snow comin' down the mountain

 That landed on Wounded Knee

 Nobody wants to take the weight 

 The responsibility 

This masterpiece begins with a quote taken from the 4th Lincoln-Douglas debate held in Charleston, South Carolina, on September 18, 1858. Lincoln opened his discussion with these words: 

"While I was at the hotel to-day, an elderly gentleman called upon me to know whether I was really in favor of producing a perfect equality between the (slur)  and white people. [Great Laughter.] While I had not proposed to myself on this occasion to say much on that subject, yet as the question was asked me, I thought I would occupy perhaps five minutes in saying something regarding it. I will say then that I am not, nor ever have been, in favor of bringing about in any way the social and political equality of the white and black races, [applause]-that I am not nor ever have been in favor of making voters or jurors of (slur), nor of qualifying them to hold office, nor to intermarry with white people. I will say in addition to this that there is a physical difference between the white and black races, which I believe will forever forbid the two races living together on terms of social and political equality. And since they cannot so live, while they do remain together there must be the position of superior and inferior, and I as much as any other man is in favor of having the superior position assigned to the white race."

This was just the beginning of the speech Lincoln gave, and the words bolded are the exact beginning of the song by Prince (disclaimer: I replaced the racial slurs with this (slur) since I do not want any slurs on my platform). Moreover, as we can see in this song, the Artist was calling out the former President Abraham Lincoln for being racist. As you can see from this speech, HE REALLY WAS A RACIST. Moving on with the speech, Lincoln also said that he was not against slavery, and therefore he did not want to abolish it. Additionally, Prince mentioned the thirteenth Amendment. Before I report the Amendment, I believe it is important to contextualize it. What I am about to write will show one more time that Lincoln was a stone-cold racist, unlike many people were taught in schools. So, during the Civil War, the South USA (which economy was unfortunately still based on slaves working in plantations), wanted to keep a balance of free and slave states to maintain its political power in Congress. Southern slaveholders feared the loss of control for many reasons, including a rational fear that if Northern abolitionists had eventually swayed their representatives to vote to abolish slavery, the South wouldn't have had the votes to stop it. So, on September 22, 1862, President Lincoln warned the Confederate states that if they did not rejoin the Union before January 1, 1863, he would free their slaves. If they had timely surrendered, he would not have issued the Emancipation Proclamation. Therefore, on January 1, 1963, Lincoln "proclaimed" the "end of slavery." Bear in mind that this was as much an act of political/military strategy rather than moral courage.

Additionally, the Emancipation Proclamation freed only slaves held in the eleven Confederate states that had seceded, and only in the portion of those states not already under Union control. Slavery was left untouched in the loyal border states. The Proclamation also expressly exempted parts of the Confederacy (the Southern secessionist states) that had already come under Northern control. Most important, the freedom it promised depended upon the Union (United States) military victory.  The actual abolition of slavery was achieved when the Thirteenth Amendment was ratified on December 6, 1865. The first section of the Amendment declares, "Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime where of the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.". In addition to everything mentioned, the second segment of the speech I bolded is about the right to vote. Eventually, the Artist ends these verses accusing Lincoln of being racist, saying that it is not possible to escape from history. I must say that Lincoln really was A RACIST, and we have always been taught history the wrong way. I also must say that despite the abolition of slavery, black people were never really free, for racism was and still is one of the biggest plagues not just in the USA but all over the world and what we have seen until now is the proof.

Moreover, in the next verses, the Artist mentioned the Harlem Renaissance. For those who do not know that was, I will give a quick explanation of it. The Harlem Renaissance was a cultural, literary, and intellectual movement that fostered a new black cultural identity. This movement flourished in Harlem, New York, after World War I and ended around 1935 during the Great Depression. The movement raised significant issues affecting the lives of African Americans through various forms of literature, art, music, drama, painting, sculpture, movies, and protests. Voices of demonstration and ideological promotion of civil rights for African Americans inspired and created institutions and leaders who served as mentors to aspiring writers. The Harlem Renaissance arose from a generation that had lived through the gains and losses of Reconstruction after the American Civil War. Sometimes the parents or grandparents of those who lived during that historical period were slaves. Many people who lived in the Harlem Renaissance were part of the Great Migration. They moved out of the South into the black neighborhoods of the North and Midwest of the USA. African Americans sought a better standard of living and relief from the institutionalized racism in the South. Others were people of African descent from racially stratified communities in the Caribbean who came to the United States hoping for a better life. Uniting, most of them were their convergence in Harlem, New York City. Furthermore, Harlem was the center of a musical evolution that uncovered amazing talents and created a unique sound that had yet to be paralleled. Jazz was the newest sound, and it attracted both blacks and whites to go to nightclubs like the Savoy Ballroom to hear artists like Duke Ellington, Billie Holiday, and Miles Davis. Jazz was a result of the Harlem Renaissance, which originated from the musical minds of extraordinarily talented African American people. The genre includes traits that survived from West African American music, black folk music forms developed in the New World. In his song, Prince was indeed referring to jazz music and one of its most relevant and most brilliant artists: Sir. Duke Ellington. In the next lines, we see the Artist mentioning John Hammond. Hammond was a white talent scout, record producer, and music critic. This is another excellent example of how history has been distorted. Indeed, if you look upon the net, you will find that this man fought against segregation and racism. However, if you read Frank Kokofsky's book, John Coltrane and the Jazz Revolution of the 1960s, you will learn the truth about the political economy of white domination over black music. In particular, Kokofsky focuses on the relationship between John Hammond, Columbia Records, and the Artist Bessie Smith. Indeed, as Kokofsky writes:

"The first and most important point to emphasize is that, as author Chris Albertson reveals in his biography of Bessie Smith, Hammond signed the singer to a series of contracts with Columbia Records that gave her a small, fixed fee for each performance she recorded and no royalties. Such contracts were apparently standard practice with the executive, for Billie Holiday unequivocally stated in her autobiography, Lady Sings the Blues: 'Later on John Hammond paired me up with Teddy Wilson and his band for another record session. This time I got thirty bucks for making half a dozen sides.' When she protested about this arrangement, it was, according to her, a Columbia executive named Bernie Hanighen – and not John Hammond – 'who really went to bat for me' and 'almost lost his job at Columbia fighting for me.'" 

Hear the joyous sound of freedom

The Harlem Renaissance

Hear Duke Ellington and his band

kick another jungle jam

Ooh, do u wanna dance?

Who's that lurking in the shadows?

Mr. John Hammond with his pen in hand...

sayin' "Sign ur kingdom over 2 me

and b known throughout the land!"

But, u ain't got no money, U ain't got no cash,

So u sign yo name and he claims innocence

just like every snowflake in an avalanche. 

This situation is quite familiar, isn't it? Perhaps Prince had heard or read about this, and therefore he decided to add this fact to this masterpiece.

 Last but not least, another relevant part of this song is the chorus. Indeed, with this brilliantly written chorus, Prince is referring to the massacre of Wounded Knee, where more than 350 Native-American were killed. Indeed, On the morning of December 29, 1890, Chief Spotted Elk (Big Foot), leader of a group of some 350 Minneconjou Sioux, sat in a makeshift camp along the banks of Wounded Knee Creek. The group was surrounded by U.S. troops sent to arrest him and disarm his followers. The atmosphere was tense since an order to arrest Chief Sitting Bull at the Standing Rock Reservation just 14 days earlier had resulted in his murder, prompting Big Foot to lead his people to the Pine Ridge Agency for a safe haven. Alerted to the band's Ghost Dance activities, General Nelson Miles commanded Major Samuel Whiteside and the Seventh Cavalry to apprehend Big Foot and his followers, and the regiment intercepted them on December 28, leading them to the edge of the creek. While confiscating their weapons, a shot pierced the brisk morning air. Within seconds the charged atmosphere erupted as the Indian men rushed to retrieve their seized rifles, and troopers began to fire volley after volley into the Sioux camp. From a hill above, a Hotchkiss machine gun raked the tipis, gun smoke filled the air, and men, women, and children ran for a ravine near the camp, only to be cut down in the crossfire.

More than 200 Lakota laid dead or dying in the aftermath, as well as at least 20 soldiers. Although the story of the Wounded Knee Massacre is well-known, its causes and effects are still an enigma 125 years later. For 19th century Americans, it represented the end of Indian resistance and the conquest of the West. For Native-American, it represented the utter disregard of the U.S. toward its treaty responsibilities, its duplicity, and its cruelty toward Native people. In the 20th century and beyond, Wounded Knee continued to fuel controversy and debate. Notably, what is particularly controversial was and is the impetus and intent of the government that day, the role of the military, and the conflicting ways the tragedy is remembered today. Indeed, from this story, we can see how Prince gave his listener another example of how racism was a persistent plague.

Like the snow comin' down the mountain

that landed on Wounded Knee

Nobody wants 2 take the weight-

The responsibility

Moreover, as I said, the Artist with this MAGISTRALLY written lyrics educates his listener on how racism has always been a persistent, prominent, outraging, and horrifying plague that is still going on today. In addition to that, we can notice Prince's deep and broad historical knowledge, which is something incredibly fascinating and mesmerizing. Moreover, the arrangement of this song, the instrumental and the vocal delivery is among the finest and most poignant he has ever done. Indeed, the Artist with this masterpiece delivers an extraordinarily intimate and intense but yet POWERFUL performance. In my opinion, even though the only instrument played is the piano, its arrangement is outstandingly complex. The blues genre the Artist opted for, also could not have been more following the whole meaning and purpose of the song. Furthermore, the Artist's incredibly broad vocal techniques are perfectly accompanying the meaningful message of the song. Prince, with his ability to shift from a beautiful falsetto to an extremely low chest voice to eventually change to a powerful head voice during the last chorus, is putting into sounds magistrally and vividly a poignant lesson we are still struggling to learn.

Thank you for your attention.💜 Peace. G💜