#nothing is set in stone yet obvs

[deityofhearts]

even if it’s not very far, the idea of moving away from where I’m at now (like the general county) seems very exciting and is like idk I think a step in the right direction

[heartofbusan]

I saw this tweet and it speaks to me, it says it all

https://x.com/mainlykm/status/1828489606209081405

there is just so much love there, so much that they decided to travel together and then enlist together

I like what you said about the narrative, it’s what i thought from the start in regards to the car talk as it absolutely set the scene, of friends that have not spent a lot of time together and want to (they obvious can’t indulge the truth, or say they are lovers). So hey, let’s travel together for fun!

It makes sense, it gives as reason for the show, the why they are doing it. People thinking all sorts of stupid things, but that was always clear to me. I had wondered before the show aired how they were going to navigate that, the why, and so it made sense to me to lead with that, I think that’s why Jimin lead the conversation referencing they hadn’t been on a trip together in a while, acknowledging that they had been on a trip just them before.. one which is infamous. GCFT has always set them apart since its release, no other members have that sort of trip on record (obvs we know about Tae and Hobi’s trip). I mean why out of all the members, or out of all their friends, did they need or want to spend that travel time together? I mean that in the sense that it was also the case that as far as Army could see, Jimin and Tae hadn’t been spending much time together, so why not him? (Talking abkut NY/CT). The other thing that sets them apart to me is how we didn’t get any live content at the time of filming, in comparison to Jimin going to see Yoongi in NY and going live, we got nothing when he was with JK, why? It marks them as different in my opinion.

I do now wonder about the arc of the story in the rest of the episodes, I love your thought process there. I’m going to say I’m nervous for any in depth talk they may have, we’ve gotten nothing much so far about MS, but obviously in Japan they know they got in. I’m nervous because any information they give us about their reasons will be used against them, and sadly atp not just by tkkrs, but by insecure jkks too, and what a sad site to be in . However, I can’t imagine it won’t be mentioned, the bittersweet thing about Japan meaning they were just a mere couple of weeks away from enlistment day whilst there.

I have enjoyed this show immensely and agree with what you said wholeheartedly about the purpose of it all is to show us them, as they are. The small details of their relationship, the small but oh so significant details of their bond, how in sync they are and just move together. It’s truly beautiful and all I want from it is for people to respect them, and their really incredible bond. 💜

Hi there,

Do you remember this time last year when we were teased a possible Jikook live but it never came? JK did his very best, put on his poutiest face, fanned his lashes, showed us brawn and muscle and all sorts of things in order to get Jimin to join him during one of his many lives. Ah, what a thirsty time that was.

No, they didn't go live or tease the actual show when they were filming AYS, and I think that's probably due to them wanting to 1. Keep AYS a surprise, and 2. They still might have needed to 'sell' the show to a distributor.

Regarding the first I think we all know they love to give ARMY gifts. They know, THEY KNOW we love them together. The amount of times people have been asking them to go live together ect..they were probably giggling knowing what they were preparing. Their excitement during the NamVMinKook (help what is their name 😩) last live when Joon alluded to bedroom MMA..they were exited and wanted to keep it as surprise. On the second point I think, like someone mentioned (please, I forgot who it was, please come get your flowers 💐) they might not have sold an 8 episode show yet, so nothing was set in stone. They had a wild idea and a dream! but maybe not yet a clear idea of how they'd be promoting the show, they had no title ect. Like we say here, they might not have wanted to make us happy with a dead bird.

As to your point of them mentioning MS.. hmm..I dunno, I'm not as nervous for it, I guess. They mentioned it explicitly in episode one where they talked about deciding to do the show because thy would be going away for a while. They also said they wanted to keep doing it, to quote JK "until we're 50".

If they do mention it, I think it will be just as brief, not a whole explanation. It's as deep as they're willing to get, I suppose. Very Jimin-esque, mentioning it,but also keeping it close to the vest. They know about their haters, ofc they do, but if they're like me, they curate what they see and what they allow to permeate into their sphere. I block and report, but I suffer no fools. Not on any app. Why waste my time reading that drivel when there is this kind of love story to be celebrated.

If we were surprised by them enlisting as a duo, then I'm sure they talked about how it would be received, and they decided it was worth it.

Yes, their bond is what as breathed live into my veins these past weeks. Hell, the anticipation has been building for months! And I hope they know that. I hope they know that there are people like you and I, dear anon, who will support them, whatever may come.

Thank you so much for your lovely ask 💜

[grandpasauce]

@arlathvhenan tagged me for some WIP goodness so here, have this unfinished WIP that’s been sitting in my notes app for an undetermined amount of time.

This is set a few years after Trespasser.

Solas/f!Lavellan obvs

-

This is something that dawns on her one grueling evening, when the hairs on her neck stand on-end. She’s in an abandoned temple—ancient and degraded enough to be mistaken for any of the Evanuris’—where vines entrench the crippled mosaics, uproot long-standing pillars and make home between the rubble. And that’s all it really is: Rubble. That Solas values it more than the lives of every living creature doesn’t make it anything more.

The thought lurches her stomach, perseveres despite the dread that braces her body the moment she senses someone nearby. Venatori, most likely. She’s barely evaded them three days now. Comparable to ants, typically, but three days of brisk and sleepless travel make even her muscles weary. Not only that—her mana is nearly sapped. And she’s never been one for hand to hand combat, lyrium-laden prosthetic aside.

“You must leave.”

That’s when she realizes it’s probably not Venatori. Turns out, she would have preferred Venatori.

He’s indistinct—shaded by the backdrop of that blasted, blistering northern sun—but his voice is unmistakeable. Solas stands under the archway of a glimmering ruin, obstructing her only exit from the shrine. Figures she would have sought refuge in the one fully enclosed space this wreckage offered.

“The Venatori make to surround you.” Solas continues, evenly. Sunlight glares off the point of his golden shoulder plate. “They will not wait much longer.”

She scoffs, “You don’t say.”

“I will not ask why you were out here alone.”

“Alright.”

“Nevertheless, you must leave. There is nothing for you—“

“—what are you doing here?” She cocks her head, “How did you find me?”

He’s quiet then, moves out of the walkway until she’s able to make out his features entirely. There’s a heaviness under his eyes, something hard in the crease of his brow she’s not comfortable seeing. The air fluxes, pressing against her—a split moment of contortion as though reality were flickering around him. And yet, it is all so familiar to her. The makings of him are seared into her memory even still, like his face were as commonplace as the back of her hand. She hasn’t seen it in years. She sometimes wonders if she’d even recognize her own hand, were it to reappear by some miracle. Now she knows. She would.

She would.

“They are my doing.” Solas says evenly. “And, as such, I will deal with them. I’d prefer it were you gone before that happens.”

Danyla nods, thoughtfully.

When she doesn’t move, Solas inclines his head ever so. “You will leave, then?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Where do you suggest I go, Solas?” She shrugs, “You’ve said as much—they’ve surrounded me.”

“If you make haste, you may—“

“—and why would I do that?” Danyla snaps. “I’ve been running for days. I’m exhausted. If you’re going to kill them anyways, I’ll just wait until then.”

Solas’ jaw flexes, gaze hovering over her shoulder while he deliberates. Or fumes. It’s reasonable to assume there’s a factor beyond Danyla’s Safety that begs her absence. She can’t begin to theorize what, but it’s causing him enough strife to make her curious.

Solas nods after a few moments. “I may have a solution.”

There is an eluvian nearby, apparently. Solas shows her to it, only a few minutes walk from the ruined temple, through an illusory tangle of verdant shrubbery. His steps fall uncannily silent as they walk. She follows in his shadow, paying close mind to keep him decidedly ahead of her.

Once they arrive, his eyes flash—the mirage dispelled—and he motions for her to enter the unveiled eluvian.

“You first,” She insists.

They emerge somewhere in the crossroads—at least, that is what she deduces. The room is dilapidated, stone ceiling crumbling into a crude skylight, and the kaleidoscope of colors that filters in is recognizable—in an unnerving and otherworldly sort of way. Otherwise, she might have mistaken their surroundings for an old, elvhen room somewhere in Thedas. There’s no windows, just stone walls smothered with tattered bookcases and veilfire sconces. If not for the four poster bed in the center, she’d equate the space to the Vir Dirthara.

It’s certainly derelict enough to compare. She nearly falls flat over something the moment she walks forward.

“What is this place?” Danyla asks, squinting into the darkness—the aperture in the ceiling only lending so much aid. “It’s a mess.”

“I have not used this refuge for some time,” Solas stands beside her, hands clasped behind his back. “You will not remain here long, I assure you—and we have limited options, as you seem fit to remind me.”

“Oh—it’s ‘we’ now, is it?” Danyla bites back, if a little lackluster considering her preoccupation with the skylight. Or rather, the writing desk hovering precariously over the skylight. At first, she thinks it merely crossroad debris—but it fails to drift along with the rest after a time.

Solas sighs, a sound both exasperated and resigning. Her chest aches.

She looks at him, the corner of her mouth twitching at the unimpressed quirk of his brow.

“Well, go on.” She waves him off. He blinks, igniting the room’s veilfire. It washes the bookshelves blue and flutters across Solas’ pensive demeanor. He leaves her, then, with the halfhearted request to not touch anything, though he doubtlessly knows she will.

She is tired, though, and figures if there were anything damning to be found, Solas wouldn’t have left her here to begin with. So her snooping is more cursory than inquisitive, picking at the plethora of books that have managed surprisingly well through the ages. Most of them are not new to her, recommended once upon a time by Solas himself. He apparently has favorites.

When her reading grows stale, she checks on the writing desk from before, finding it tempting only for the fact that it eludes her. The eluvian’s reflection allows her to cantrip the muck of the past three days from her gear, her face, and her gnarled knot-of-a-braid.

Then, she sleeps—too exhausted to bother with sitting up worried for the safety of a figure from legend. If there is mercy to be spared, let it be granted to the Venatori. Solas had a way of terrorizing even hardened Ben-Hassrath before their deaths. Maybe wariness would be the wiser reaction under the care of such a man—if she could even call him one anymore. But she’s also wise enough to understand if Solas wanted her dead, she would be. That he even cared to warn her of the Venatori shows he is not entirely lost. Not yet.

She will be gone from him soon, regardless.

She wakes to a shift in light. It flits against her eyelids, lulling her from slumber until she notices him. His feet settle near the foot of the bed, like he were touching ground from the air. And then she realizes, perhaps that is exactly what he was doing. The implications of flight magic are too exhaustive for her to ponder so soon after waking up, though, so she files the thought away for another time.

His back is to her, but he knows she’s awake. The shadowy drape of his robe drifts to a stillness against his knees, and she considers how she misses his old attire. Homely as it might have been to some, at least it would be familiar.

“How long have I been asleep?” She utters, rolling her neck in a stretch. The bed is massive. The ancient elves were not gargantuan in stature, but the furniture certainly gave that impression.

“Not long. You are free to go.” Solas says, still turned from her. He strides to the eluvian, activating it wordlessly before finally regaling her with, at least, the side of his face. He’s expectant, and strangely eager to be rid of her.

She decides not to comment that only prisoners go free.

-

Thanks for tagging me!!!!

[glorious-catastrophe]

hi. i'm currently reading the ill-made knight and feeling insane, so naturally i looked it up on tumblr to find the other sickos and saw your tags on some random "have you read this book" poll about queer lancelot and i just have to ask. is there, like, more of it? i honestly know pretty much nothing about arthurian legend in general, i just found out about this specific series and started reading it, but now i'm kinda hooked. on lancelot especially. what a guy. are there other interpretations of lancelot as being queer?? it's just so interesting to me if he's not just the guy who's fucking king Arthur's wife but is also in love with him too.

hi anon!

first off: i’m so excited that you’re getting into arthurian legends!! it’s a really cool field with some really cool stories :) i wish i could go back and re-learn everything over again

ill-made knight is the most well known arthurian retelling with overtly queer themes, so you’re off to a good start. if you’re looking for similar vibes, i would recommend the sword stone table edited by swapna krishna and jenn northington—it’s an anothology, so it’s got a bunch of queer retellings of arthurian legends (but it might be a little difficult to track all of the characters if you’re unfamiliar with the source material) i know there’s queer lancelot in the story flat white, which is in that anthology

coming out later this year, you have tristan and lancelot: a tale of two knights! i obv haven’t read it yet but it seems like a good introduction to the knights of the round table at large and morgan la fey!

if you’re looking for something other than books, try the album high noon over camelot by the mechanisms (i usually listen on spotify!) if you’re into the magnus archives, the guy who voices jon is in the band—hnoc is a mix of a radio drama and musical retelling of arthurian legends set in space. and they’re cowboys. honestly what more could you want

if you’re interested in learning more about the source material, i would recommend le morte d’arthur as a starting point! it’s like THE arthurian book for people who aren’t insane about the middle ages and cant translate old english and old french. some serious academics are weird abt le morte for various reasons but it is a REALLY good starter text (and lancelot is a bit of a tragic figure and it makes me weep)

if you’re more interested in source material/lancelot stories, start with knight of the cart! there are some good translations (and bad ones) out there—i would recommend a poetry translation over a prose (so it’s written in poem format) because i’m a translation purist but it’s really down to taste

if you’re looking for more source material with more of a queer leaning/playing with gender i would recommend marie de france’s lanval—it’s short and sweet and has some really interesting moments, but, unforch, no lancelot

i do have to put a disclaimer here and say that 1) i have unfortunately been involved more on the academic side of queer lancelot (and queer and trans medieval studies) to know what’s really popping off in the arthurian legends fandom these days and 2) i am one of those people who is insane about medieval literature and have done a research about medieval lit as a whole and so some of the recommendations here are not… fun in a traditional sense. but nevertheless!

OH ALSO if you’re interested in a story about a trans medieval knight, i would recommend yde et olive—it’s a french chanson de geste (if i remember correctly) and from the same literary tradition as most lancelot stories

if you have any questions about arthurian legends in general, feel free to shoot me another ask! i love talking about it and i would love to be a help! and if i think of any more recommendations to send your way, i will reblog this post and add them! happy reading!

[dourpeep]

My half-sleepy mind came up with a whole scenario and my god do I want to do it but it’ll be off-canon since we have very little confirmed stuff about Inazuma (not including leaks)

Anyway anyway I’m also wanting to start a multi-part fic and this definitely could be a contender

If u wanna know more about what I’m thinking read the tags jdjdjd

[renaroo123]

Daisies and Daffodils

(Not my GIF OBV, and yes its from Tick Tick! Boom, but this is Peter’s vibe within my story )

TASM!Peter ParkerX TASM MJ. Eventual NWH spoilers but this part is NWH spoiler free!

16+ is recommended due to talks of depression, anxiety and potentially (eventual) suggestive themes. but as of now this work is SFW!

Word count : 2K

Peter Parker was not ready to move on, despite Aunt May, and others in his life pushing him to do so. He'd tried once but it completely blew up in his face.

But a run in with someone from his past could throw everything off balance.  Setting him down the path that had always been meant for him.

A/N: So hi everyone. This is my first stab at writing any type of Fan fiction in years. But No way home really inspired me to write again. I won't promise any regular updates but this most likely will not be a One and done.

Also the first half of the title will be evident in a moment but the second half isn't. Daffodils are symbolic of Rebirth and new beginnings. So it's going to be very fitting

As always comments are welcome, and constructive feedback as well. Thank you all for your patience. I hope you enjoy it :)

.

####

Gripping the daisies in his hand Peter Parker walked through the trodden path of the cemetery.  He'd never been the most comfortable in Christian cemeteries but his comfort was the least important thing to him right now.

Daisies were hard to find this time of year, as it was still too cold for them to grow naturally in New York

But they were her favourite. And after all it was her birthday.

Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy.

Beloved Daughter, Sister and friend.

1996-2014

In the years since her death he must have read her name a million times. He'd memorized  every line in the marble, each weathered scratch from the harsh winters and even how the black paint in the carving of her name has started to grey over the years

Yet it never got easier.

Thankfully he never encountered anyone visiting her. It was a crowded yet quiet place where he could be alone with himself and just talk.

"Hey Gwen" he said, taking in a steading breath. "I know it's been awhile since I've come to see you, but I brought your favourites"

Brushing the snow from the small vase in front of the stone, he placed the flowers inside.

"Hopefully they'll last awhile. The last ones blew away from the wind."  

And there he sat, rambling about his life (not that it had been terribly exciting), talking about nothing. Praying that somehow, she could actually still hear him and it wasn't just for nothing.

".. and of course May is still trying to set me up with her co-workers. She had let me be perpetually single for a while. But I think she's getting antsy for Grandchildren. I swear she'll never–"

He was suddenly cut off by a familiar voice that made him freeze.

"Peter? Dear is that you? What are you doing here" the woman said, surprised.

There were only two women who had ever called him dear like that, and his mother had been gone for many years. So it had to be Mrs. Stacy.

Peter quickly looked over his shoulder, and offered a polite smile. "Hello Mrs. Stacy. It's good to see you." He stood up and brushed off his pants as he continued.

"I was just here visiting her, and giving her her favourite flowers" gesturing to the vase near his feet. "I always bring them with me when I visit"

"Peter dear, I know it's been awhile since we've seen each other but after all we've been through I've told you you can call me Helen." She gave a sad smile, yet moved closer putting a comforting hand on his arm, before continuing "I didn't expect you here. I thought I was the only one who still came. Even the boys don't come with me anymore"

That made his heart twinge. In more ways than one.

First of course in the obvious. The two of them being the only ones left to still visit Gwen Stacy.

Second because he felt bad he'd not seen Helen in so long. They'd grown close after Gwen passed it wasn't easy on either of them but especially for Helen. Having lost both her husband and daughter within two years of each other.

She'd been his rock for the first few months and years after, and Peter had been hers.Peter had truly begun to see her as more than his girlfriend's mother, really more like his own in some ways.

But just like the rest of his Peter Parker life he stopped caring, because the pain became too much.

So he'd thrown himself into working and Spiderman. Everything else stopped mattering.

Thirdly because the look of pity in her eyes cut him deep into his soul. Shuffling his feet he looked down, not able to hold her gaze any longer for fear the tears may come back again.

"I was coming myself to see her. She would have been 28 today" Helen said as she knelt down, placing her own small bouquet in the vase next to Peter's.

Peters' heightened senses told him that she was adding chrysanthemums to the vase. The smell of the mourning flower was unfortunately too familiar to the young man.

Despite his best efforts Peter could feel his eyes misting, as he saw Helen taking a moment and mouthing what he could only assume was a silent prayer for her daughter.

As she tried to rise he quickly helped her up. Offering his arm to steady her.  She'd accepted and rose to her feet, taking a step back from her daughter's head stone to admire their combined handy work.

She couldn't help but smile down, before looking over to Peter. "I hope you've been well dear, how did you do in your studies" the inquiry was genuinely placed and Peter could help but spill his every thought.

But before he could say too much, Helen interrupted. "Peter Dear, why don't we grab something to eat. Maybe some cake for her birthday. It's definitely too cold to be catching up outside"

Peter hesitated for a moment. Not wanting to fall back into caring too much again, for fear it may bring more heartache.

Hadn't he caused her enough by now?

But his gut told him to just accept. If for nothing else the (hopefully) free lunch (absolutely nothing to do with the fact he was still worried about Helen and how she had been coping these years). So the pair left Gwen behind and traveled the short distance to a cafe down the street.

###

The catching up had been something Peter hadn't known he needed. Even though it had been nearly 7 years since he'd last seen Helen or the rest of the Stacy family, he felt at ease here with her.

He was glad to hear the boys were all doing well. Phil and Howard having graduated college and Simon just starting this past fall. It was comforting. Familiar.  

He caught her up on his own life. Mostly staying on safe topics like his work, Aunt May and his grad school.

But the comforting conversation didn't last as long as he'd hoped, as the inevitable questions came up.

" … I'm glad everything has been working out well for you dear. How has Adam been? Are you still seeing him? He was such a sweet boy"

That name made Peter's blood run cold and the chocolate cake he'd been enjoying turned bitter in his mouth. Adam had been his boyfriend for a short time about 2 ½ years after Gwen had died.

But his grief had inevitably broken them up. Even though he had liked Adam a lot, he had rushed into a relationship. Mostly at May's behest, she feeling he had to get out of the house. What a disastrous time that had been. It had truly started his complete downward spiral.

And he had been the only person Peter had been with other than Gwen. Even nearly 10 years on, her loss still haunted him almost daily. But thankfully May had stopped pressuring him as much after the messy break up with Adam.

"Adam and I actually broke up. Just before we fell out of touch actually. He was lovely but looking back I wasn't ready for that type of relationship. Honestly I don't know if I'll ever be"

Normally that would have been enough to make most people drop that, but it seemed Gwen had gotten her stubborn nature from her mother.  

Peter could see that sad look in her eyes, and he had a feeling he knew what was coming. She put her fork down on the napkin before she continued.

"Peter, honey you can't truly mean that. You're a young man. You shouldn't be throwing your life away for a girl you can't follow." Peter could tell those words hurt her to say, but irregardless she kept speaking "It's not healthy, and I know you loved my Gwen. Deeply. Honestly I would have loved to have you for a son-in-law, but I know Gwen would not want you living like this"

She had kept going but Peter couldn't hear anymore. The familiar feeling of disassociation nearly pulled him completely away from the cafe. He felt his stomach turning with anxiety, the rich cake he'd just eaten feeling like a rock in his belly.

He tried his best to politely interject but he feared  he may have come across rudely. "Helen, I know you mean well, but I can't." Despite his best effort his tears had started falling. Sniffling to try and compose himself he continued "how can I move on, I loved her so much. I wanted to marry her, move to England, have kids and grow old. I'd even been planning to get your blessing. Did she ever tell you? We had jokingly said if we had a son we'd call him George after her dad. She was my whole world, and it's my fault she's dead"

Helen had started crying herself now. Reaching into her handbag she pulled out tissues for them both, handing one to Peter.

"Peter, I know it's hard. But truly I know Gwen would hate to see you like this. She loved you deeply and would want you to have all those things, even if it wasn't with her."  Helen dabbed her eyes.

They must have looked like a spectacle in the corner of that cafe. Two people sitting and crying into their chocolate cakes and coffee. But it had been a long time coming.

"Gwendolyn would not want you to blame yourself dear, despite what you may think it wasn't your fault. I know it was your idea to explore that tower but in the end it was a tragic accident. It was no one's fault"

He'd almost forgotten the official version of what happened. The official story being that the two of them had been exploring the tower for a photoshoot for his portfolio, when Spiderman and Green Goblin ,(as he'd been dubbed) had their fight. And Gwen had gotten caught in the cross hairs. Spiderman was too late to save her.

Of course she had believed the version he'd told the police when it happened. A new wave of guilt and shame washed over Peter, knowing he couldn't tell her the truth of her only daughter's death.

Secrets and lying seemed to be the only thing he was good at.

"I know Helen, but it doesn't seem fair. How can I be happy when she wasn't allowed to." He snapped, though he immediately regretted it. By now there were people staring, giving them both strange looks. "Can we step out of here? The cafe is giving us weird looks" he said defeated wiping his face with the tissues.

Helen nodded and stood up, grabbing her coffee, and Peter followed behind her out the door, and onto the sidewalk.

"Unfortunately it's not fair honey, you both should have been able to have all those things you wanted and hoped for. But Gwen was taken from us. And we have to keep going forward." Her voice was full of emotion. "I know it will be difficult but I think you should try baby steps. Why don't you come over for dinner. I'm having Phil and his fiancé over Saturday after next, I'm sure they'd love to see you again. I'll l make branzino, I remember how much you enjoyed it"

Peter let out a small laugh at her obvious attempt at easing the tension. "I think that would be a nice step. Thank you for inviting me."

"Phil will be happy to see you, all the boys ask about you even after all these years. They really looked up to you Peter. I'll call your Aunt Mays with the details. But for now I have to be going."

Peter nodded and watched her walk away down the busy sidewalk.

'What have I gotten myself into?' he thought, sneaking through an alleyway to put on his suit. The only way to clear thoughts this heavy was to swing. Maybe take down a few petty criminals.

As fast as he'd changed Spiderman was once again flying through the tall buildings of New York.

Though the city he loved had no idea the heavy weight Peter Parker had just put onto himself. On top of everything else.

A/n #2: SO yeah thats it, tell me what you think 😅

[stardustedknuckles]

13-linking hands together during sex for Beau/Yasha?

Uhhh probably more than 1k, set after the Stone Coffin fight so obvs emotional hurt/comfort, operates under my personal favorite headcanon that they've been fucking on the sly since the getgo. No strings etc. Rated E for emotions (and also explicit).

Beau's resolve to turn Yasha down for her own good flares and fades at the first timid knock on her door.

If she's being honest with herself, she's known it was a non-starter since she first told herself it was for the best. The ethics of fucking someone who let themself get beat bloody like today - she could talk herself in circles but at the end of the day there's a huge part of her that's worried Yasha might just hate herself so much that she'll never let Beau touch her again. And right now, when she's in most need of comfort, the thought is unbearable.

She pulls the door open and leans on it a little, looking up at Yasha but not letting her in just yet. Her face is lightly bruised, her torso even worse outside the confines of her breastband. At the sight of Beau's expression she looks conflicted, like maybe this was a bad idea.

Then her eyes flick down to the knit line of pink flesh protruding from under Beau's breastband and she looks like this was definitely a mistake, but Beau's already let down her wall and she's got just enough fight to reach for Yasha's wrist when she shakes her head and looks at the floor.

"Hey." She keeps her grasp light - not because Yasha couldn't break her strongest grip, but because it feels important that she shouldn't have to. "I won't talk if you won't."

Yasha's stare lingers listlessly on Beau's touch for a moment before she drags her eyes up. "I think we have to."

They're quiet after that. Beau undresses Yasha with touches more careful and reserved than she ever has, and Yasha lets her. She says nothing when Beau raises up to kiss her, nothing when Beau pushes her gently, mindful of the bruises and the fading cuts from...whatever she'd been made to do, onto the bed.

"Yeah. But not tonight. Not if this helps." She hawks the next words quietly out of her own throat, an obstruction she has to clear to breathe. "It helps me too."

After a long moment, Yasha nods.

But she's not blank, either. She responds, even if she doesn't smile. She lets herself fall into Beau's hands and the difference between where they are now and where this all started - a boot in Beau's chest and the understanding that she was Yasha's to use - will stagger her if she thinks too hard about it. They'd been heading here by degrees before Yasha had been taken. A slow shift from domination into something shared. The last time they spent a night like this, Yasha had been terrified. "He's back," she'd whispered to the ceiling.

"I don't know what that means to you but I'm pretty sure we can kick his ass," Beau had replied, far too flippant and focused almost entirely on the promise of getting to put her mouth on Yasha.

And well. Hadn't that whole thing just gone to shit.

But somehow Yasha's here now and they're not talking, so there's nothing for Beau to promise that she can't keep. There's just Yasha spread before her in the low lamplight coming from the wall behind the bed, the faint eyeshine following her every movement not from suspicion but something approaching interest. She's too thin - still so powerful, but her skin clings to her muscles in a way that makes the slim part of Beau's mind not focused on the here and now rumble with fantasies of resurrection just to murder that dead demon fuck again.

Knelt between her legs, Beau can feel her mouth watering at the welcome sight of Yasha's cunt, drool the mirror to the shine of it through her curls. She's not sure what it would take to break either of them beyond the comfort sex can provide but thank the gods they haven't found it yet.

She slips her hand gently along the inside of Yasha's thigh, and after another moment of deliberation leans forward to press a kiss to the angriest of the bruises on that pale stomach. Yasha's watching her when she flicks her eyes up and when Beau ghosts to the next and waits, she nods. Hesitant when it comes to kindness, always, but the permission is given.

Beau's hand keeps a steady, slow rhythm between Yasha's legs as she maps the constellations of wounds new and old with her lips, and it isn't long before Yasha's breathing begins to hitch in a familiar way. She hears Yasha shift with the quietest of sobs and only just manages not to flinch when long, trembling fingers reach to brush over the puckered scar across her chest.

There are rules to this thing they do, mostly spoken but sometimes understood. The gentleness Beau is giving is already on the edge of what's agreed, but so is the fact of Yasha allowing it. Still, it's the most natural thing in the world to take the hand brushing knuckles over her skin in hers and push her weight forward so that she's leaned over Yasha and inches from her face as she keeps fucking her gently and searching for any indication that it's too far, too much.

Yasha's eyes shut tight with a whimper, and Beau might have retreated but for the way the hand under hers against the sheets spreads and - she hardly dares to breathe - threads her fingers between Beau's. Yasha doesn't hold on, just rests them there, but Beau is already closing her fingers around them and in the next moment the two of them are interlocked as Yasha's quiet sips of air get shorter and harsher.

She whimpers Beau's name when she comes, body taut and tears in her eyes. Beau kisses the salt and the damp of her away as softly as she dares, knowing that at any moment Yasha might catch her breath and stop her - return to her room as silently as she'd come as she has so many times before.

She doesn't, though. Her free arm releases her grip on the sheets and drapes across Beau's back, pulling her in as gently as Beau had grabbed her wrist. She could pull away if she wanted. Choice.

Except it's hardly a choice at all because when - when has lying on top of Yasha and pulling her close been an option? What's changed, that she would bury her face in Beau's neck and roll them sideways, let her ever-steady arms tremble around her and make the sort of noise she makes in her throat when Beau shushes her gently and strokes her hair? There is no choice. There is no other option but to be this - whatever this is - for as long as Yasha lets her.

It's minutes and a small, precious eternity before Yasha lifts her head to rest her chin on Beau's shoulder, before one of the hands holding her so tightly leaves to slide down her thigh and hook Beau's knee up over her legs. She makes a wet sort of questioning sound against Beau's ear and waits for the return nod before teasing her apart at the center, all without once letting go.

She doesn't leave, after, but neither does she cry and shake. Yasha's breaths even out in Beau's ear, the only indication she's still awake the thumb that rocks back and forth over Beau's shoulder. When they do finally roll apart, she reaches for the lip of the blankets and watches Beau, looking impossibly young and hopeful.

"Course," Beau whispers, forgetting herself for a moment but comforted in the knowledge that technically they each got one word. Besides, tonight's apparently the night for rule breaking - or maybe, she hardly dares to hope, a precursor to change entirely. Maybe after Kamordah, that specter looming in the back of her thoughts and making any thoughts of permanence possible. Maybe then, if it's not her nudging Yasha for this comfort or throwing herself into a fight just as brutal.

The point is, where they are now is not where they started. Where they are now, physically, feels the closest thing to right that Beau's known in a long time. For tonight, that's more than enough. Beau squirms a little closer and relaxes at the feel of Yasha's arm tightening around her waist, and she drifts off to the throb of her heart steady under her ear. Alive, alive, alive.

[bokutoslittlebird]

S/O with Daddy Kink + Sub tendencies — Bokuto/Iwaizumi/Sakusa

These are the more “dom” characters in which they do expect you to be submissive. Sorry this is late, I was out and about and thought I finished it (obvs I didn’t oop)

Bokuto

> He’s definitely thought about y’all. Like first week, he’s already ready to smash. He probably doesn’t bring it up at like all, but he thinks about it.

> He sees himself as the dom in the bedroom, so he isn’t surprised that you are submissive. Even if you’re wild like him or a free spirit, he’s gonna assume you let him take control and will not bring it up. That is the standard once it happens.

> Also probably wants you to call him something because I think he likes pet names a lot (intimacy y’know) and so he might put it a spur of the moment line like “Tell Daddy what you want, bunny/puppy/princess/little prince/etc.” and hearing that come out of his mouth it’s like “oh? Yes please”

> If he says something else (like Master), then you just gotta tell him afterwards (or during, your call) but if you go along with it and never bring it up, it’s set in stone. He assumes nothing is wrong and will not know unless you show visible hesitance and/or bring it up.

> Same thing the submissive tendencies. You might have to be like “oh, were you surprised?” And he’ll deadass be like “nah I always knew you were my good girl/boy/baby” like. Sir. Round 2?

> If you’re a switch leaning sub, he’s a good guy to go for. If you’re a switch leaning dom, he’s probably not the best option. He likes being in control because he likes watching you react to him.

Iwaizumi

> Similar to Bokuto, he assumes he will take the reins in the bedroom, but he doesn’t think that much about it. Your personality may show otherwise, but he is used to dealing with unpredictable things (read: Matsukawa and Hanamaki). So, not surprised.

> He, however, is probably surprised to find out you got a Daddy kink like ?? What? He’s completely lost because I feel like he’s used to it being a joke (courtesy of Hanamaki) but never thinking its an actual thing. Like, he’s desensitized.

> But actually hearing you call him that? Like you actually saying “Daddy, please,” in his ear all breathlessly? Ooh boy, you gonna be walking funky when he’s done with you if you walk

> If you’re a switch leaning sub, he’s a good to go to guy, but if you’re switch leaning dom, he’s probably not the best. He isn’t opposed to the idea but he automatically assumes him = dom.

Sakusa

> He’s kinda the oddball here lmao

> Sakusa, for his first time with you, he wants things to go smoothly. He needs to know what you’re okay with and what you’re not okay with. What names he can and cannot call you, and he is very open to telling you what he thinks he likes and if it would be okay to try them with you.

> A sweetheart honestly. This is where the sub/dom and daddy kink is established. Personally, I feel like he may have to grow on the idea of being called Daddy or even giving you a nickname in accordance to that (look at Bokuto’s pet names). He will warm up to it and it can become standard practice, but he’s going to need time.

> Sub tendencies, he kind of expected. Atsumu, the bastard, looked at you and immediately asked Sakusa if you liked it rough in bed/asked how his “brat” was doing. Anyways, Meian put him in timeout and Sakusa went home early.

> So he’s not surprised but you telling him you’re also a switch opens his options. He’s going to assume the dom role, but as your relationship progresses, he can eventually warm up to the idea of becoming a switch himself. Maybe he’ll let you dom and he’ll sub, but he’s not thinking about that quite yet.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | many thanks to @joonsrack​ for her translations and @jooneggs​ for beta reading

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: just a heads-up, there is French in this chapter. it isn’t translated because y/n does not speak French and thus has no clue wtf goes On BUT if you want the goss, feel free to use google translate or ur Local Translation Engine. explicitly sexual content, cursing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, spanking, dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, public (not sex-sex but sexytimes in public), shoe kink, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, use of safeword, teasing, bondage, gagging, use of sex toys, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, overstimulation, crying during sex, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, a sexy sliver of aftercare before yn zonks it

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

DAY SIX

You wake up early in the morning to a sore throat. Though the arm that rests heavy on your waist and the breath that tickles the nape of your neck tempt you back to sleep, you can’t even swallow without wincing, and the only solution is a cool drink and some pain meds. 

Namjoon doesn’t react when you slip out from under him, sliding your pillow under his arm. He simply lets out a satisfied hum and curls it closer to him. Still, you dress in breathy silence, tiptoeing out and leaving the door open a crack for your return. 

Downstairs, the blinking numbers on the microwave read shortly before 6am and you groan. The chance of you getting any more sleep after this was slim.

You pour some water and swallow some basic pain meds with a sigh. If you were honest, quiet moments like this were rare. Past the glass sliding door which leads to the outdoor dining area, you can see glints of reddy golds and flaming orange, pooling between trees to warm the concrete patio. This villa was truly beautiful, and you knew you’d never stay in a place like it again. Not only the house itself but the company you shared was invaluable. All the guys had such a personality to them, and you were surprised at how quicky you’d grown accustomed to them all. Fond, too.

Yoongi’s thoughtfulness, Jungkook’s energy, Jin’s stability. Taehyung who was so giving and Hoseok who never let the mood falter. And more recently, Namjoon becoming more confident and Jimin revealing flecks of heart behind the stone facade. Everyone brought something to the villa that made it a truly magical place. You feel like you’d be happy even without the mind-blowing sex. As the elimination day draws painfully close, your stomach turns with the thought of turning someone away. Of removing them when they’d only just gotten settled. The Lady was the hardest job in the game in many ways. 

Finishing your glass, you set it in the sink with a wet clink and roll your shoulders, arching your back as the last of your sleep leaves you in a final yawn. You turn to leave, squeaking when you’re met with a solid body coming out of nowhere. 

“Woah- Jimin?” The last person you expected to be up so early, you cringe as your voice raises in disbelief.

The man in question grins, eyes twinkling even in the relative darkness of pre-dawn. “Going so soon?”

“I-” You find yourself at a loss of words, feeling caught somehow, and you clear your still-aching throat. “What are you doing up?”

“Looking for you, little mouse. Or did you forget I’m next in line?” He speaks as light and melodic as a music box, but his lips are twisted in a grin as his eyes roam over you, wearing the same clothes as last night. “Has our Namjoonie finally popped his cherry?”

The way he plays with every syllable has you feeling so vulnerable, so under his control, and your gaze falters, looking instead at his odd attire. Like he’d gotten up in a hurry, he’s wearing a mix of pyjamas and clothes. His legs are tightly clad in glossy faux leather, blacker than black, and his top half is a silk pyjama top, sinful red trimmed with black, and with only a single button done up in the middle of his torso, exposing his lower stomach and the top of his chest. You suck in a breath at the expanse of skin, and what looks like the black sliver of a...tattoo? 

“Cat got your tongue?” he questions, drawing your eyes back up as he licks his top lip slowly, purposefully.

“It’s none of your business,” you reply, cursing the way your voice catches throatily, clearly affected by him. “And if you’re going to take your turn, can we at least go somewhere a little more comfortable? It’s six in the fucking morning.”

Like a switch is flipped, his face darkens, the humour gone. You swallow the lump in your throat as Jimin’s mouth sours into a scowl, but you can’t deny the heat that pools between your legs at it too. “I knew it,” he announces, voice acidic. 

“Knew what?” Your fate sealed, a streak of confidence rises within you. You’d ruffled him. And every part of you is screaming to make him react again. 

His eyes are molten power as they focus on you. “Five days and you’ve already become a spoilt brat.”

Your mouth drops open. “Fuck you! It’s your job to fuck me.”

“Why should I fuck you when you haven’t done a thing to earn it?” Jimin takes a step forward and reflexively you back up. “You’re an ungrateful cockhungry slut, little mouse. If you want me, beg for it.” He takes another step and again, you shuffle back, heart picking up.

“I shouldn’t have to beg,” you counter, though your voice isn’t as firm as before. Jimin simply raises a brow, continuing to walk you further into the kitchen until your lower back strikes the countertop. You swallow again, wishing you weren’t so easily affected. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just send you home.”

“You could,” he gives dismissively, lips twitching into a sneer at his following words, “but I don’t think you will. I don’t believe you’d send me home if I didn’t fuck you. Because you want to know how it feels.”

You bite your tongue, glaring up at him, at the way he’s so indifferent about it. “Fine. Then fuck me.” 

Jimin tuts reproachfully, his arms leaning forward to prop himself up on the bench behind you, caging you in. Your heart stops beating, the throb felt between your legs instead as he’s close enough to touch, his mouth close enough to kiss, not that you’d dare. “That isn’t begging,” he whispers in disapproval. 

“I don’t beg,” you insist, even as your hands clench, fighting the urge to touch him. 

Suddenly, the shadow over his face disappears, and he pushes up, creating some distance between you again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says airily, causing you to frown in confusion. “We aren’t at the begging stage yet. You know what you need first?”

You stare at him blankly, giving him a shake of your head. 

Jimin grins, and you swear you see his eyes flash. “Punishment.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you breathe, though instead of sounding offended as you intend, you just sound needy. Fuck Park Jimin and his iron grip on your arousal. 

His grin broadens like the Chesire Cat. “You’ve been very bad, little mouse. You’ve been demanding and impatient, you’ve used vulgar language and I seem to recall the night you interrupted my sleep because of how loud you were next door. I can’t let it slide,” he divulges with a solemn shake of his head, like your poor behaviour pains him, “I just can’t.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t punish me like a child.”

“And that will be another one,” Jimin says instead, perfectly calm, rich blue hair catching the light as the sun continues to rise just outside. 

“Another what?” you fire back, beginning to tire of so much talk and so little action.

“Another spank,” he deadpans. Were it anyone else, any other situation, perhaps you would’ve laughed at it. Instead, you stare wide-eyed at the stoicism on his face. “That makes it five for swearing to me in this conversation alone, four for being impatient, and five for keeping me up that second night. Should we round it up to twenty?”

You stay silent for a moment, desperately trying to process it. You shake your head slowly. “You can’t make me,” you point out.

“Of course I can’t,” Jimin gives with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as if to demonstrate how calm he is. Your eyes are magnetised by the silver rings that glint on his fingers, unable to keep yourself from imagining how they might feel on you. “You can always use your safeword, and I’ll respect it,” he continues. “But I doubt it. Whether you like to admit it, little mouse, you want this. You think I haven’t worked out that you a little pain with your pleasure?” He stands back, just a step, but the extra distance makes you feel suddenly unanchored, and you hate it. “I’m going to give you three seconds to turn around and bend over. If you don’t, I’ll walk away and you get nothing. If you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can talk.”

You huff, pressing your lips - and thighs - together in an effort to stay strong.

“One,” Jimin begins, eyes alight with bemusement. You don’t move, just sighing in annoyance again. “Two.”

Your incisors are clamped on your tongue so tightly you can almost taste blood as you glare intensely at his mouth. He draws it out cheekily, letting you wait painstakingly as he wets his lips and finally opens his mouth, the pink of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he-

Before you can process it, you’re flipping yourself around and pressing your upper chest against the counter, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation as Jimin begins to chuckle. 

It’s far too loud for the stillness of the early morning, and you muffle a sob in your forearm - not regret, but neediness. A week he’d deprived you, and the smug fucker was right: you’d take what you could get, and love it too. Blessedly, he doesn’t seem to notice the sound, the air filled instead with his triumphant peal of laughter at seeing you presenting yourself to him just like he knew you would. 

“Oh, little mouse,” he coos. “What would the others think if they saw you like this, hm? Bent over for me in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could walk in.”

You take in an unsteady breath, feeling your pulse race with excitement as his fingertips - still cold from the morning air - slip under your waistband, as he painstakingly slides it down, revealing your ass. You let out a small whimper when the toe of his shoe catches your ankle, pushing to widen your legs apart. You bite your lip, cheeks heating, core heating even more. 

Jimin runs his palms flat over your bare ass and you hiss through your nose at how icy his rings feel. While his hands are smaller than those of other guys of the house, you feel no less under their control, shivering at the contact. “Was it twenty we agreed upon?” His tone is light, playful. He knows he’s got you, and one final burst of defiance bubbles up through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you spit. “Does that make it twenty-one?”

You’re jumping before you even feel the lacing of fire on your right cheek or hear the smack that echos in the room. You choke on a moan, unable to deny how the pain settles into a low-burning pleasure that adds to the wetness between your thighs.

From behind you, you hear Jimin sigh heavily and quickly, like he’s trying to calm himself. “I want you to count them,” he instructs, and you flinch as his hand comes down on you again, but this time his slaps are weak, light swats that warm your skin to prepare it. “Twenty starting now. Understood?”

You bite your lip, but pull yourself up a little to free your face, propping yourself up with your elbows. You feel so vulnerable like this, just your ass bared, legs spread and at his mercy, but all you can think of is feeling his hand on you again. Blearily, you nod, and a pleased hum comes from his throat, barely audible. 

Jimin makes you wait for it, holding the silence so that your ears strain, fighting the urge to glance ba-

You jerk with a shallow cry as your other cheek stings with his smack, core clenching. “One,” you announce quietly. With every moment of sunrise, the room gets lighter and lighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. Was that dread in your stomach or excitement?

He doesn’t speak, only smoothing the skin to cool it before laying another blow, waiting for you to call out a shaky “two.” He’s wearing at least three rings, and you can feel them, more unforgiving than his flesh and painfully ice cold. You wonder in the back of your mind if they’ll leave marks. You can’t help but hope they do. 

You’ve made it to eight strikes before your knees begin to shake slightly. Every lick of pain simultaneously hurts more on the raw skin of your ass, but pools as liquid pleasure between your legs faster as you grow accustomed to it. Your pussy aches for contact, and you arch your back after the ninth spank falls, presenting yourself to him even more in the hopes that he’ll be tempted, but Jimin just tuts in disapproval.

“Look at you, little mouse. Soaking after a few spanks. You love this, don’t you? No part of you can deny it anymore.” You pant and bite down hard on your lip, wanting so bad to beg for it. Still, you refuse. Jimin just hums at your attempt at stoic silence, amused more than anything. “Almost halfway. It’ll be over so soon, don’t you think? We should make the most of this.” 

You frown at his words, more so when you feel the heat of his body leave you. You crane your neck automatically, spine lifting to stand, but his voice freezes you. 

“Fucking face the front and keep position,” he seethes, “I never said you could move.”

You sink back down, widening your legs and lowering your chest so it rests on the edge of the countertop, eyes locked onto the splashback in front of you. With ears straining, you shudder at the sound of a drawer sliding smoothly open, and the various clinks and thuds that follow as he rummages. Once the drawer shuts again and Jimin returns, you can barely breathe, goosebumps breaking out on your thighs and arms. 

He pats something against you, then slowly runs it over the heated skin of your ass, the slight friction making you hiss. “Do you know what this is? Feel it.” He continues to brush it around slowly, and you wrack your mind. It’s not metal or plastic - the texture is a little too rough and it isn’t as cold as his rings were. You hiss when you feel it dip down between your thighs, too low to touch you were you need it most. The shape is a tall oval, flat on one side but concave on the other, and you let out a low moan, back arching lower as you work it out. Jimin laughs, bringing it back up to tap it teasingly on your cheek. “I think you do,” he remarks. “Shall we continue?”

You bite your lip but it can’t fully cover the needy moan that spills out. He’s really about to spank you with a wooden spoon, and you’re really dripping for it. “Ye-yes,” you gasp out, a cry ripped from your throat at the first hit. It’s far sharper on your skin than his hand, whistling through the air and landing with a resounding smack. The sting lasts longer too, almost like you can feel the exact outline of the spoon on your skin. “Fuck, ten.”

When Jimin speaks again, his voice is rich with sadistic amusement. “Do you like it, little mouse? You should see yourself. The outline of the spoon just now, the marks from my rings-” he drags a single nail down one of the aforementioned marks, and you keen, the raw pain sent straight to your core, “you mark so beautifully for me. This perky little ass of yours is so red, you know? Should we make it even redder?”

Without waiting for your answer, he lands three smacks in quick succession - right, left, right again. Your body’s instinct takes over and you pull your body forward, tucking your ass in as if to escape it, even as your core throbs with need and your nipples press stiffly against your shirt. 

Jimin won’t have it, though, and you moan in a low keen as he wraps an arm low over your hips and tugs you back down, pressing the middle of your back with the fist and clenches the spoon so that you arch beneath it, dropping down that hand to run his knuckles lightly over your abused skin. “Shh,” he hushes firmly, “we aren’t done here yet. If it’s too much for you, you know what to say.”

Your heart warms at his reminder of your safeword, but you have no intention of using it, already melting under the additional physical contact. Instead, you lean back into his grip, presenting yourself for more. 

You sense rather than see his grin, but it makes you shiver nonetheless as the amused breath escapes his nose, his cool fingers running over your flesh, thumb and pointer as the rest wrap around the stem of the wooden spoon. “Are you gonna count them then, little mouse?”

Your mouth drops open to answer, but you pause, having to really think back. “Mm, uh, twelve? Eleven?”

Jimin chuckles, returning to those light teasing pats of the wooden spoon, just to make your thighs shake. “Thirteen, actually,” he reveals in a rakish tone. “If you wanted more, you just had to ask.”

Before your brain can process a retort, the spoon comes down again, an audible thwack that jiggles the flesh of your ass with the force of it, and you keen, knees buckling for just a moment. The contrast of intense stimulation of the fiery skin on your ass and the complete neglect of your needy core is infuriating but addictive nonetheless. “Fuck, Jimin, fo-fourteen.”

You automatically suck in a breath in the sudden lull as Jimin rears his hand back, but the quiet reveals a different noise, the laughing and joking and thud-thud-thud of people coming down the stairs, and you’re choking on the air in your lungs, freezing as two familiar faces round the corner and come to a halt as they witness the scene you’re in. 

Your legs shiver but your core throbs still as Jungkook and Taehyung watch you wide-eyed, eyes dancing in unision from Jimin, to you, to your ass and the spoon in Jimin’s hand. The cheeks of your face are somehow hotter and redder than the others, but regardless you stay frozen in position, waiting for someone else to make a move.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, the only one of you four unbothered. “She has six hits left, boys,” he offers up, patting your hip like you’re a ride to have a go on. “Any takers?”

Taehyung steps forward first, Jungkook’s mouth still hanging low. As you watch his slender fingers wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon, you shiver, and he chuckles at your reaction. 

“You know,” he muses casually, replacing Jimin behind you as the older man steps away to lean against the bench beside you, “I think I’m starting to warm up to this whole situation, petal. Where else would I get to walk in on a sight like this? And Jimin-hyung is so generous to let us help out. Thank him, Y/n.”

A breath rushes out of your throat, one you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Humiliation rushes through you, but it’s cloudy with arousal, and your tongue is loose with it. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung coos shortly, and that’s the only warning before he’s swatting you harshly with the flat back of the spoon, and you let out a strangled moan. Your ass won’t stop stinging between hits, but you obediently call out ”fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,” until you only have three to go. 

Taehyung relinquishes his turn reluctantly to Jungkook; the youngest contestant in the house eying you up strangely, almost like he can read and understand the pleasure in the welts on your ass and the tremble of your knee. Almost like he’s been where you are, or somewhere close. Judging by the apparent variety of his streams, you don’t doubt it. 

Like Jungkook’s testing the waters, his first hit is the weakest, barely making you flinch. You exhale lowly in disappointment. “Eighteen,” you say, swallowing down the drool that threatens to gather. 

Before any more land, you instead feel fingers at your hairline, brushing back strands that have covered your face. Small but strong points of pressure light up on your jaw as Jimin pulls your chin to look up at him, his eyes swirling with deep satisfaction. 

“I wanna see the look on your face,” he announces quietly. “I want our Jungkookie to make these last two hurt. Will you take it for me?”

His voice brooks no disagreement, still dripping with authority and control, but you know that he’s once more giving you an out should you wish to use your safeword, so you nod shakily, eyes fluttering. “Please.” You’ve still received no friction - or contact at all - on your pussy, and you feel yourself going crazy. The pain is addictive, licks of pleasure that seep into your veins after every spank, but you can’t handle how you drip down your own thighs, soaking your panties even as they rest hooked just above your knees. Two more hits and you’d finally get what you needed.

You haven’t seen Jimin’s face this close, and certainly not seen his eyes in such intense detail before, and instead of anticipating the next hit you find yourself blinking up at him dazedly. His hair, the deep glossy navy that you’d never seen on somebody before, is swooped gracefully over his brow, which is still a natural black, and below it his eyes are molten with lust and satisfaction, watching your face intently. His hands are hot on your face, the rings cool points of unforgiving contact, and you can’t help but wonder if the plush pillows of his lips are warm like his hands or cool like his rings. They’d feel softer against yo-

“Fu-fuck!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as two sharp hits strike you not on the already-red skin of your ass, but the tops of your thighs instead, just below the swell of flesh. It’s more painful than you’d expect, but you’re so turned on that your mind just screams better and more. Caught up in it, you belatedly gasp out a “nineteen, twen’y,” and feel yourself sink against the countertop, held up by Jimin’s hands on your face and jaw.

“Little mouse,” his voice calls out, and your brows knit together as you struggle to decipher his tone. “Little mouse.”

You force your eyes open, breathing heavily through your mouth as everything except the burn below and Jimin above fade away. “Jimin,” you whisper, lips barely moving.

His give a twitch, pleased. It warms your heart to see the flicker of approval. “What do you say, hm?”

You don’t even think, but your body knows the answer. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“I’m not the only one,” he remarks, though a pleased grin is evident on his face and in his voice. 

Truthfully, you’d almost forgotten the others, but as you thank them, eyes still locked on Jimin, you feel your toes curl at the realisation that you’re surrounded by three extremely attractive men. Men that are all here to-

The dopey smile of anticipation is struck from your face when Jimin abruptly lets go of you, pushing off the countertop. You stumble, catching your legs under you and fumbling to pull up your jeans reflexively. “Where are you-?”

You jump at the dull clang of the wooden spoon being tossed in the sink, Jungkook’s hand free as Jimin discards the tool. You watch openmouthed, panties and jeans barely on as the former rest uncomfortably soaked against your core, as the eldest of the three rolls his shoulders and sighs happily. “So, boys; should we make some omellettes for breakfast? I feel like cracking a few eggs.”

Taehyung grins and Jungkook’s gaze slides to you in uncertainty but the two agree, casually retrieving ingredients and utensils like you aren’t sitting there with a stinging ass and your jeans unbuttoned. 

“Jimin,” you mumble dumbly, and to your surprise he acknowledges you this time, walking over to stand in front of you with a congenial smile. 

“You’re done here, Y/n,” he announces. Unabashedly, his hands slip down and begin to fully slide your panties and jeans up, fingers slipping up the zip and buttoning them closed. “You didn’t want to beg, and I’m not going to make you. You took your punishment, so why don’t you toodle along? I’m sure one of us will call for you when breakfast is ready.”

Your mouth drops open, the final lusty haze of the scene evaporating fast enough to leave you reeling. “Are you serious? You aren’t going to do anything?”

Jimin’s eyebrows lower intently, voice hushing like he’s sharing a secret, even though Taehyung and Jungkook are right behind him in earshot. “Oh, little mouse. You know exactly what to do to get what you want.”

He waits expectantly, but your eyes dart past his shoulders to the other two boys. Begging was one thing, but in front of the others? You fight a pout, hoping your face looks angry rather than put out. “You’re an asshole, and I’m voting you out.” 

His grin broadens, wolfish. “Well then,” he remarks with an unbothered lift of a brow, “I better hurry up and make these omelettes before I get sent home, now, shouldn’t I?” 

And with that, he turns his back to you and begins chatting to his friends. You stay for one more moment of shocked silence, but soon turn tail, stomping back up the stairs with the wet fabric of your panties pressing coldly against you.

---

When you peek your head in the door, Namjoon is still asleep, so you quickly duck back into your room and change into some fresh clothes and underwear before going back in, content to chill on his armchair until he wakes. 

You’d told him you would stay, and the way the fabric of your leggings rubs against your sore ass when you sit only reminds you of the fact that you’d been gone longer than anticipated already. He looks peaceful, though, clearly quite content with the pillow you’d left him with. Namjoon’s mouth is parted slightly, slack and half-pressed into his own pillow. He clutches yours with both arms, snuffling or grunting in his sleep every few moments. 

You’re happy with just scrolling through your phone aimlessly for the half hour or so it takes before he wakes, back arching and neck cracking as he stretches. A beam broadens on your face at the dazed slow blink and wide yawn that he emits. “Sleep well?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He pats the pillow and mattress beside him in confusion, sitting up to stare at you with a squint. “You stayed?”

“I said I would,” you dismiss, a single thread of guilt wrapping around your heart at the memory of where you’d just came from. “I woke up a bit early and needed a drink. Sore throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen dramatically, the concern on his face ringed by a mess of tanged purple hair. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve asked…”

“You’re fine, Namjoonie,” you murmur. “I was actually wondering if you’d want to-”

You break off to the sound of what is undoubtably Jungkook belting out his lungs from downstairs, announcing breakfast is ready. Namjoon lights up, kicking the blankets off in a rush to get out of bed. “I’m starving,” he chimes, getting dressed without a shred of the self-consciousness you’d witnessed the night before. Hunger has seemingly stolen all his brainpower, and you follow his eager slipstream as he rushes down the stairs noisily, thumping into the kitchen. 

Both your heart and your core throb in disappointment, your opportunity for morning sex lost by the offer of a hot meal. Your mood sours even further when you come face-to-face with the three youngest serving up omelettes, Jimin smiling brilliantly, still dressed in a barely-buttoned silk pyjama shirt and some black glossy pants.

He barely spares you a glance, even as he sits almost directly across from you. You take a seat between Namjoon and Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin on the other side and the heads of the table kept by Hoseok and Yoongi. 

You have to admit that the wafting smells of cooked egg, cheese and various spices have your stomach grumbling, so you vow to ignore the unsatisfied heat between your legs and the smug man across from you and tuck in, your knife cutting through the omelette like butter. It’s delicious, and clearly everyone at the table shares the same sentiment, moans of surprised enjoyment filling the air. 

“I’m impressed, Jimin,” Yoongi admits, “the first time I’ve even seen you awake for breakfast and you make us this. It’s fantastic.”

His voice is melodic, teasing at your eyes even as you avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin replies warmly, “I was actually taught the recipe from one of my good friends who works as a chef in France.”

Hoseok isn’t impressed, and the way he scrunches his face up in annoyance makes you suppress a grin. “Let me guess, Remy the rat? If we dig around in that hair of yours will we find him tugging you around?”

Jimin ignores him coolly, knife twirling deftly around his fingers. “I haven’t seen Victor in several years, but his cooking lessons have always stuck with me. Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai qui tu es.”

“You are what you eat,” Namjoon muses, shoveling a wobbling stack of egg into his mouth. 

Your eyebrows lift, turning to him with shock. “You speak French?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin straighten in interest at the man directly across from him, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, cheeks bulging as he hurriedly tries to finish his mouthful. “Took it as an elective in university,” he explains once he’s done, “never actually been to France, though.” He turns to Jimin finally, eyes shining with the spark of curiosity that always seemed to smoulder there. “What’s it like?”

“C’est incroyable,” Jimin enunciates, the French dripping off his tongue like sparkling water. “Tu devrais y aller un jour. Mon ami a un appartement à Paris avec une chambre d’amis dans laquelle je séjourne des fois.”

Namjoon gasps, and you glance around the table, everyone bar the two of them looking totally confused. “Avec vue sur la Tour Eiffel?” The only indication it’s a question is the way his pitch rises, but the rest is incomprehensible to you, so you just return to your omelette, content to watch the conversation play out like a foreign movie without subtitles. Body language and tone being your only clues.

“Bien sûr,” Jimin replies easily, his head tipping to the side, eyes burning as he stares at the older man, “mais on pourrait peut-être parler de choses plus excitantes que cela? As-tu apprécié la compagnie de Y/N dans ton lit hier soir?”

You straighten up as you hear your name, glaring at Jimin in suspicion. You’d never regretted picking Spanish in high school instead of French more. Namjoon, interestingly, seems equally ruffled by Jimin’s comments. “That’s really none of your busi-”

“Tu vas me parler en Français, Namjoon, ou je vais commencer à te poser des questions en Anglais. Qu’est-ce que t’en dit?  The choice is yours.” Jimin’s voice turns sharp, spitting out the syllables like jabs. The choice? In unison, everyone at the table turns to Namjoon in question as the academic flushes. 

“Fine,” he says shortly in English, before switching back to French. “On n’est pas vraiment... allés jusqu’au bout. J’allais lui proposer ce matin, mais tu nous a appelés pour le déjeuner. .”

Jimin’s mouth curls slowly, deviously, making Namjoon swallow. You feel your own cheeks heat at the thought that they were very likely speaking about you. “Is that so?” Jimin asks in English, head tipping slowly. He takes a single bite of his breakfast, making Namjoon shift awkwardly in his seat at the wait. “Well; I do apologise for interrupting.” You look up between the two of them. Was he referring to him spanking you that morning? Or him calling you down just when you were going to make a move? Jimin isn’t done, sliding down in his seat just slightly, so he’s leaning back. “Laisse-moi me faire pardonner.”

Namjoon’s brows knit and his mouth opens to reply, but suddenly he goes ramrod stiff, eyes flying wide open. “Wh-what are you-?” His chest heaves once, his throat bobbing as he swallows down the rest of his sentence. 

You frown, glancing down to see the shiny tip of Jimin’s shoe pressed firmly against Namjoon’s crotch, shifting back and forth. You look away, hoping to avoid attracting more attention to Namjoon’s predicament, but you can’t deny the hot rush of heat between your own thighs at the thought of Jimin getting Namjoon off at the breakfast table with just the sole of his shoe. You finish off the last of your omelette bitterly, hating the way that your mind wishes you were in Namjoon’s seat right now. 

Like nothing’s happening, Jimin continues to converse with his elder, the others at the table seemingly none the wiser. “Ce n’est peut-être pas une une chatte bien chaude et humide, mais tu es un bon garçon, n’est-ce pas? Tu vas prendre ce que je te donne, non?” 

“Jimin,” Namjoon croaks out, voice surprisingly steady even as it’s low with arousal, “i-is there any more batter left? I’d love another omelette.”

Jungkook pipes up, finally hearing enough English to be able to contribute. “There’s not much left, but I was actually thinking I kinda feel like some hash browns and bacon, so we could go for round two if anyone else is up for it?”

Yoongi and Jin, like they’ve been awakened with the promise of more food, drag their chairs back simultaneously to stand. “I don’t trust you with frying bacon, Jungkook,” Jin answers from beside you with a small grin, “let hyungs help.”

Half the table files away, Hoseok also joining those in the kitchen, probably because he’s hoping for some taste-testing, and you’re left with Taehyung being the only unaware party, on his phone as he mindlessly sips away at a glass of juice. 

“Regarde-moi ça,” Jimin announces with melodic glee. “il y a moins de regards sur toi maintenant. Les autres sont dans la cuisine, Taehyung ne nous prête pas attention, et Y/N sait déjà ce qui est entrain de se passer; regarde-la.”

You glance up at your name but Taehyung doesn’t even react, mouth slightly open as he focuses on the video he’s watching silently, pinky finger tapping at the condensation on the glass absentmindedly. 

Namjoon turns to face you, before glancing down at the shoe which rocks faster and broader between his legs, his cock tented and leaking a small wet patch in his trousers. He knows you know. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Jimin overtakes deftly, making Namjoon hunch over the table as the jerking of his shoe against Namjoon’s clothed cock speed up. Even as Jimin’s eyes are on you, he addresses the older man in lush French. “Est-ce que tu vas venir comme ça, hm? Crois-tu pouvoir rester silencieux?”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat stemming from between your legs as you wish you could’ve felt some contact from Jimin instead. Even just the sole of his shoe would be better than nothing, but it seems that Namjoon doesn’t share the sentiment, as his hand shoves at Jimin’s foot. “Rouge,” he gasps out lowly, and Jimin recoils like he’s been shot. 

Sitting upright, feet to himself again, Jimin’s eyes widen at the word. Even with the little to no French knowledge you have, you can guess the meaning. Red. Namjoon used the safeword. “I’m so sorry,” Jimin croaks, and you’re startled at the vulnerability and genuine apology in his voice, “are you not-?”

“Juste parce que je suis techniquement vièrge, ça ne fait pas de moi un soumis,” Namjoon explains with a rueful smile. You wish he would’ve spoke in English, but his light tone at least reassures you that he isn’t mad or hurt or upset. He mostly just seems a little embarrassed and overwhelmed. 

“Can we stop speaking in baguette?” Taehyung pipes up miserably, putting his phone away. “Oui, oui. Mercy. Oh reservoir. Anything more complex than that and you’ve got me lost.”

Namjoon frowns, bewildered. “Do you mean merci and au revoir?” 

“Do I?” Taehyung questions rhetorically, eyes dazed. Namjoon just shrugs hopelessly, but that seems enough for the black-haired boy. He cheers up a bit and, glancing at Namjoon’s hunched figure, lets out a short sigh. “You look tense, hyung. Do you need some help relaxing?”

Jimin bites his lip with guilt, and you hate the way you’re drawn to that pillow of flesh, so pink against the white of his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to lean over there and see what it felt like to kiss him. 

Namjoon, however, seems less concerned with Jimin. You get the idea that perhaps he’s not one to have a short temper or hold grudges. “It’s okay, I think I might have a quick shower upstairs before the second lot of breakfast is finished.” Displaying his characteristic shyness, Namjoon makes an awkward yet completely unsuccessful attempt to leave the room without revealing his tented crotch. 

Taehyung’s eyes follow it out until Namjoon’s out of sight, his mouth hung open. After a moment’s thought, brows knitted tightly together, Taehyung turns back to the two of you at the table. “Do you think he’s turned on by food or something? He did seem pre-tty eager to chow down that omelette. I should go ask him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin sinks his face into his hands as Taehyung scrambles after Namjoon, and you honestly don’t blame him.

--

You manage to make it to late afternoon before you encounter Jimin again. After the meal, he speaks quietly to Jin and the two disappear into the private rec room. For you as well, the day is spent inside, Jungkook asking for your assistance in spotting him at the indoor gym, mostly so he can explain to you and Hoseok the extremely elaborate plot of his latest anime show while he lifts weights. You and Hoseok, completely lost, ended up spending hours there trying to understand all the character arcs and plot twists and backstories, eventually moving up to Jungkook’s room so he could show you the first few episodes. By the time he let you go, you made your way downstairs with a bag of laundry, having almost spent a full week in the villa.

Unlike most of the house, the laundry feels very basic and surburban: a front-loader, a dryer and a sink with some cabinets are really the only pieces of furniture, so you perch on the dryer as you wash, and the washer as you dry your load of clothes. 

Letting the regular thump of the drying machine lull you into a sleepy daze, you’re too zoned out on your phone to notice someone approaching until fingers wrap around your phone, pushing it down away from your face. 

Jimin’s still hasn’t changed out of his red pyjama shirt, and as you sit up ramrod straight and focus onto him, you admire the way the lapels lay open to expose his collarbones. “Fancy seeing you here,” he announces with a grin, eyes raking over you as you sit atop the washing machine. 

“What a coincidence,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be, little mouse?”

You fight the urge to press your legs together at the petname, Jimin’s eyes intelligent and self-satisfied as they watch you. “Coming here to seduce me.”

Jimin laughs, and your cheeks flush hot at the sound, his head tipping back to expose a graceful neck. “Oh, Y/n, don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m just here to do my laundry.” 

Dubious, you keep your legs dangling over the side and your arms crossed as you look down. True enough, a basket of washing rests and his feet, and you wait bitterly as he brushes your legs wider so that he can turn on the machine, selecting the right settings and pouring in a scoop of detergent. You keep a stoic silence, biting down on your tongue at his actions, but he doesn’t seem to care about your eyes on him.

In fact, he appears to openly thrive on it, sinking into a crouch in front of the machine and blinking up at you innocently, his face in front of your aching crotch. Refusing to give in, you press your lips together while he opens the door and deposits his clothes, socks, underwear, everything he’s been wearing the past few days. Once he’s done, you feel yourself relax a bit, but then he lets out a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose I should wash these too,” he muses, fingering at the bottom edge of his shirt, and your mouth goes dry. That fucker. He doesn’t even look at you as he undresses, but the smirk on his lips speaks volumes.

Your hips long to writhe, but you force yourself still as he unbuttons his shirt, opening it up and chucking it in casually, running a hand over his now-naked chest, quite literally rubbing it in. The most skin you’ve seen on him yet, you allow yourself to drink in the sight. He’s more muscular than you’d expect, though it’s all lean muscle, graceful yet speaking to a corded strength. 

Even though you know it’s coming, there’s nothing that can prepare you for the obscene sight of him pulling down the zipper of his black patent leather pants, revealing equally black boxers. He’s not hard, not even the slightest hint of a chub, and the thought infuriates you that he could make you so needy without even getting aroused himself, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

As he lowers his pants down, his thighs are revealed in all their glory, the thickest part of him. They flex as he lifts each leg, tugging off the pants fully and tossing them in. Though you hadn’t noticed before, now is the first time you’ve seen him without his shoes on, and you marvel at the fact that he loses none of his power like this, that it really comes from within, from his piercing gaze, knowing smile and confident posture. Chucking them in the washing machine too, he pauses for a moment, lip tugged up in a smirk, before his ringed fingers find the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Startled, a breathy, “Jimin,” falls from your lips unbidden, barely audible.

“Hm?” Jimin has no regard for modesty as he bares himself fully, cock twitching as you stare, wide-eyed. “What’s the problem, little mouse? This is a shared facility.” He chucks the slip of light fabric amongst the rest of his clothes and shuts the lid, pressing start. A gasp escapes you as the machine kicks into gear, already beginning to shudder and rock under you, sending vibrations to your needy core. 

As you stare, Jimin stands in front of you, resting a hand on the edge of the machine, right between your splayed legs. His dick is slowly plumping up, the man completely unbothered as he lowers his free hand to press at the skin around it, sighing. 

Your fingers clench into fists as your arms remain crossed, pussy thriving and dripping with the pleasure after so long, but cursing that his hand is so close yet so far to your clothed cunt. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you spit, leaning back and tipping your head up to stare stubbornly at the ceiling. The image of him, his naked body is still seared onto your eyelids and you let out a huff. “You have no shame.”

“Shame never seemed like a particularly useful quality to have.”

“I’m not giving you what you want,” you insist, voice trembling slightly - though you blame the steady jarring of the washing machine that runs from your core all the way up to your teeth. 

“Then I could say the same to you,” you hear Jimin reply easily, before letting out a suspiciously low groan. 

Your head shoots down and you gawk at the way he grasps himself, fully hard now, and runs the crook of his pointer finger over his weeping head. His cock is gorgeous, the hair above trimmed neatly and the tip arcing towards the ceiling, towards your shocked stare as he smears the glistening precum around his head, hissing at the coolness of his rings on the heated skin. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you utter in complete bewilderment. “This isn’t washing your laundry!”

Jimin hums, head tipped back and eyes slipping shut in indulgence. “I can leave to jerk off alone if that makes you more comfortable?”

You fall silent, eyes locked onto his languid strokes. That isn’t what you want at all, and he knows it. “Jimin,” you murmur lowly, captivated by the slow drags of his hand on his cock, rings glinting wetly. He makes a noise of response, almost lost in the mechanical whirring and thudding of the washing machine that stirs in your loins. Your voice is barely louder than his. “Jimin, why are you making this so difficult?”

His head tips back down, lips parted and eyes lidded. “Oh, little mouse,” he sighs, “do you wish you could touch? Do you wish I was inside you?”

You glance again at his hand, resting mere centimetres away from your core. “You know I do,” you admit in a small voice.

“Then beg,” he replies simply, hand slowly picking up speed on his dick. “The only thing that’s keeping you horny and unsatisfied is yourself. You could’ve cum three times already if you knew what was good for you.”

You sigh, licking your lips needily. A light ding echoes in the room; your washing has finished in the dryer. You ignore it. “Please, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes open fully, locking on you with a smirk. “Closer,” he answers, teeth exposed as he grins just slightly. Still, though, he continues to stroke himself, even going so far as to take a half step forward to rest the underside of his cock against the washing machine, groaning at the vibrations. 

You huff when you realise he isn’t going to speak further. “You do realise I could just go get myself off, right? You don’t have all the power here.”

You know you’ve said the wrong thing when his cheeks lift, lips spread wide in a teasing sneer. “We both know that’s not quite true. Perhaps I don’t have all the power, but a little birdie told me that you’re no longer allowed to put your hand in your own pants. I don’t suppose that rings a bell?”

He knows about Hoseok’s deal. Perhaps they all do. In an effort to wipe the smug look off his face, you scoff, spreading your legs wider in a show of relaxation. “Well then, I guess I might as well go upstairs and ask Hoseok to fuck me. I bet he’d do a better job than-”

Like lightening, his hand leaves his own cock and lashes out, fisting your shirt in his hands and tugging you forward, hard enough that you have to quickly uncross your arms and grab onto him to stop your foreheads from knocking together. You gasp at the fiery look on his face, his voice a sharp growl. “If you think he can fuck you half as good as I can, you’re dreaming.”

“Wha-?” you make out, so close that your breath ruffles the wisp of hair that swoops over his brow.

Just as quick as he grabbed you, Jimin lets go, stepping away. “Your laundry is ready,” he announces lowly. “You’ll be waiting outside my bedroom door in two hour’s time or you won’t get anything at all. Clear?” 

Startled, you nod, jumping down off the mid-cycle washing machine, your legs feeling wobbly with the sudden withdrawal of vibrations. Grabbing your washing out of the dryer, you rush out the room with one last glance at him before the door slams and locks behind you. All is silent in the hallway as you ascend the stairs, but internally you scream with excitement. 

--

Two hours drags and stretches and then snaps, everything too slow and then too fast until you’re knocking on Jimin’s door, stomach swirling sickly with anticipation. 

He takes his sweet time answering, heightening your heart rate, but by the time he does it takes your breath away. He’s in a different pair of black pants, jeans that are skinny enough to make his legs seem a million miles long. His chest is fully covered this time, but it’s a transparent white mesh singlet, a white pressed blouse with gold buttons and cufflinks unbuttoned at the top to expose it. His lips, plush as ever, are covered in a sheer gloss that glints in the light and his eyes are intense in the frame of thick lashes and a hint of shadow on the lids, warm and smokey. As usual, he’s laden with jewellery, his classic silver rings paired with a pair of thin dangling chains from his lobes that sway hypnotically when he tilts his head in greeting.

You, too, had dressed for the occasion, seeking out your prettiest pair of lingerie - a black lace set with embroidered vines and buds around the hems and cups. The only thing you’re wearing on top is a black silk robe tied lazily around your waist. Thanking your lucky stars nobody had wandered into the upstairs hallway while you were waiting, you step inside, the thick carpet under your bare feet muffling your steps.

Jimin is back in shoes, and you bite your lip when you recognise them as the ones he’d worn at breakfast just that morning. It feels like days ago, your heightened arousal the whole day stretching time into an eternity. 

“Kneel,” he instructs shortly, pointing at the carpet in front of him. For a moment you hesitate, but you'd gotten so far and it would be foolish to test your luck and risk getting thrown out with nothing yet again. Besides, part of you wants to see what he'll do when you're actually good for him. You kneel.

His room is perhaps one of the largest excluding yours. His bathroom door is shut, but even just the bedroom has room for a queen bed, two nightstands, a dresser and a chest at the foot of the bed which you're facing. You wonder idly if he'd paid the staff off for the biggest room, but before you can ponder much more he steps in front of you, his crotch right at your eye-level. You glance up him, sucking in a breath at how perfect he looks glancing down at you.

You lick your lips in anticipation, and it draws his attention. "This pretty little mouth of yours," he muses, reaching out to run his fingers over your lips, tugging down the flesh to watch it bounce back. Your chest puffs in pride, mouth practically watering at the thought of sucking him off. You part your lips when he presses on the seam, and his first two fingers delve into your mouth, slowly thrusting so that the pads run along your tongue, making you drool around his digits. You widen your jaw obediently, eyes pleading. But his face changes, then, a frown clouding his features. "More trouble than it's worth," he decides stiffly, and suddenly your mouth is empty, Jimin wiping your saliva off on your cheek before he turns his back to you, opening the chest.

Your mouth stays slack and open, but for a different reason. From what you can see, the wooden box is filled with toys, slips of fabric and leather, metal chains, everything. Suddenly, something catches your attention. At the bottom right corner, the initial PJM have been gracefully engraved, painted in with a glossy black ink. This is his, you realise, what he uses for his shoots. You feel your panties dampening between your legs as he rifles around.

When he turns back around, you recoil slightly, recognising the buckled contraption he comes up with. A ball gag. He smiles wickedly at your reaction, standing over you and running his hand through your hair, combing it back from your face. "This is a good thing, little mouse," he explains, tapping your lips twice to indicate to widen your jaw. You obey in a daze, feeling the sphere of unforgiving black plastic fill the front half of your mouth, your teeth keeping it in place. "Now you won't be tempted to run your mouth. Isn't that thoughtful of me?" You glare up at him as the straps wrap around your skull, his deft fingers tightening the buckle just enough so you can't spit the ball out. Your breath comes through your nose now, huffing at him.

He chuckles, crouching in front of you. It's overwhelming, suddenly having his face so close again. The perfect swells of his cheekbones, the sculpted brows and intelligent eyes so intensely locked onto yours. "You can't speak now, little mouse. So your safeword is going to be non-verbal. Click your fingers once for yellow, and over and over as much as you can for red. Okay? Click now so I know you can do it."

You click your fingers, feeling your chest ease slightly with the reinforcement of your safety net. The moment you're done, however, that warm concern vanishes, and he straightens up, turning away from you yet again.

"You're lucky," his voice announces, leaning over to dig in his box of tricks, "normally I'm not so generous. Normally I wouldn't let you cum until you'd well and truly earned it. But those cries of yours on the Monday night..." He trails off, spinning back on his feet to face you, a pair of leather cuffs in his hand, unconnected with heavy duty silver loops dangling from them. His eyes pierce you with a hint of vulnerability that you don't think he even realises he's showing. "You drive me crazy, Y/n. I want to hear you cum over and over and over again for me."

No matter how much your chest rises and falls, you feel breathless, eyes wide. Unable to verbally respond - though you don't even know what you'd say - you just give him a pleading gaze, hips rocking against the bottoms of your feet in search of friction.

He lets out a breath, stepping forward. "Take off your robe," he instructs with a rough voice. Your fingers fumble with the slack knot, hurriedly shedding it and tossing it away, leaving yourself in just the lingerie. "Fuck," he says with a breathy chuckle, "you're gonna be the death of me, little mouse. Wrists."

You clench your teeth around the ball gag in a keen at his words, lifting your arms up to reach him.

One at a time, he fits on the leather cuffs. They're relatively wide, though not too thick, and once he does up the buckle on each one you feel your eyes flutter. Something you'd never felt before but it's divine, the way they wrap so snugly around your wrists, not only a physical anchor, but a reminder that you're his, letting out a low moan when he slips a finger in one of the silver loops, tugging to ensure the fit.

Jimin's lip twitches at your reaction, and instead of telling you to stand, he uses the hoops, pulling your wrists up by the cuffs until you stand to ease the pressure, stumbling slightly as you get off your knees without your hands to assist. He leads you to the head of the bed, where you see the two chains that wrap around the bars of the headboard.

"On," he instructs, letting go so you can clamber up, sitting as you await further instruction. "On your back, darling," he coos, pressing at your shoulder so your head rests back onto the pillow. Automatically, you lift your arms, pulling a smile from his lips as he loops the chains through the silver hoops of your cuffs, spreading your arms wide apart, knuckles brushing against the wood of the headboard.

"Don't go anywhere," he remarks teasingly before leaving you, retrieving a few things from the chest. You tug slightly at one of your cuffs, testing it, and muffle a groan at the feeling of being trapped, tied down and at his mercy.

When he returns, his hands are full, and he tosses the fruits of his labour on the bed beside your torso, getting up on the bed to sit between your legs. You gasp when he tugs your ankles firmly, making you slip down so that your arms are straight, less room to struggle. This way, too, you can barely crane your head up, chest blocking your few of the toys he's brought over.

"Now," he says with a patient sigh, fingering the hem of your panties, "let's get rid of these, mm?" You lift your hips obediently when he goes to slip them down, curling your toes at the sudden cool air on your pussy. "Fuck, look at you," he gushes lowly, his fingers running up and down your slit so light you can barely feel them, making you whimper. "So fucking wet, little mouse. I haven't even touched you."

You lift your head to moan at him, trying to get out your plea, though your words are unrecognisable through the ball gag.

He pouts teasingly, rubbing the flat of his palm over you, slicking up his hand. "Oh, poor baby. The mean old Jiminie kept teasing her, did he? Baby just wants to cum?"

You groan, eyes scrunching shut as you nod your head. Even the simple touch of his hand between your legs is so good you could cry.

You tremble when you feel two fingers slip inside your wetness, a tight fit but one that lets him in so smoothly with how much you're soaked for him. He finds your g-spot with an almost supernatural ease, rubbing at it with the pads of his two fingers, curling inside you. You let out a strangled groan which makes him chuckle.

"I'm being generous now, aren't I? Say thank you, Y/n."

You sob. He knows full well you can't speak, but you obey nonetheless, letting out an unintelligible garble of your thanks.

"Good girl," he coos, and your legs fall apart wider in bliss as he begins an indulgent pace, the cool bands of his rings when they plunge inside you addictive. The second his thumb lifts up and begins rubbing at your clit, you're already on the edge from being deprived so long, and you cum almost immediately, shuddering around his fingers at the deep but powerful satisfaction.

You come down from your high relatively quickly, but he's already slipped his hand out, and you glance down in confusion, only to choke on a moan when you see him, tongue poking out slightly in focus as he uses your own slick to lube up a dildo, a powder pink silicone one that's roughly the shape of a cock, but far smoother, getting wider at the bottom for a place to hold it.

Once he's done, almost without acknowledging you, he grips your knee, making it bend and your leg lift higher up the bed, spreading you wider open for him, the other one still flat on the mattress, splayed wide.

"That was your warm-up, little mouse, I hope you enjoyed it," Jimin remarks with a grin, and you breathe heavy around the gag, back arching as he presses the head of the dildo into you.

It's far wider than his two fingers, and the stretch dumbs you, making your mind slow to a halt to appreciate every inch that fills you, dragging against your sensitised g-spot. Jimin's knuckles bump your clit when he bottoms out, and you shiver, the dildo so deep inside you.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he declares rhetorically with a wolfish grin, and once again your eyes squeeze shut when he begins a bruising pace, every strike spearing you open and making your eyes water. Your spine hitches as you writhe beneath him, but his grip on your bent leg is too strong, and no matter how hard you clench he drives the dildo so fully inside you that your mouth is slack, wide enough that your teeth don't even clamp around the ball on your tongue. With an open mouth, more sound comes through, and you hear the room filling with the wet sound of him fucking you with the dildo, but also your own moans and hiccuped screams.

He fucks you to the edge faster than you can comprehend. There's so much pleasure on every stroke, and he's using so much speed that it feels like you can't take it, like you might explode, but still he pins you down, letting you yank at the cuffs that bind you as you're forced to cum violently around it, thigh muscles clenching as you try to clamp your legs around the intrusion.

"Fuck, that's it, don't stop cumming," you hear him growl, and you sob with pleasure as your orgasm morphs quickly into oversensitivity, but Jimin never lets up for a second.

Your eyes water, tears slipping down over your temples as he continues to fuck you, and suddenly you no longer feel his hand on your leg, it flopping down weakly as fingers tap over your hand.

"Don't forget the signal," he instructs as you sob and writhe, "I'm not fucking stopping without it."

It takes you a moment to process that he's asking about the safeword, but as overwhelmed as you are, you don't want him to stop. "Hngingn," you cry, his name coming out jumbled through the ball gag, and your legs automatically lock around his hand, seeking to stop the roughly thrusting dildo, but his spare hand just rips your legs away, one of his jean-clad knees pinning down your shin and your screams reach a new pitch when you feel fingers strumming at your clit, the pleasure like a million needles, making your hands fist.

After an eternity of going crazy with overstimulation, you pass a bend. The pain turns back into pleasure, and you settle, going quiet and shifting slightly to seek it out, eyes rolling at the rhythmic rocking of your hips as he fucks you with the dildo.

"That's it," Jimin guides, breathless with exertion, "I want you to cum again, little mouse. Clench tight for me."

You do as he says, eyes so blurry you can't even see anything but the patch of blue in your vision, his head bobbing slightly as he speaks.

Without thinking, you follow his instructions, and like clockwork a third orgasm rips through you, taking you by surprise as the extra pressure of the dildo on your g-spot plunges you over the edge. You hadn't even realised you were close, but clearly Jimin had, and you tremble beneath him, letting the waves of pleasure flood to every corner and crevice of your body, your fists tightening and your toes curling. You weep openly at how good it feels, whimpering when his fingers on your clit stop and the dildo slows, slipping out of you one last time with a slick noise.

You're sweating, twitching, trembling, but still you manage to blink away your tears and focus on him blearily as you feel him removing the ball gag from around your head, fingers gentle as they massage your jaw slightly, letting you close it and lick your lips, feeling the ache.

"Did so well," he praises, and you pant happily, a lazy smile stretching out on your face as your tears begin to dry. The sound of a zip makes you frown, so you glance down to see Jimin already fisting his own cock, just as red and needy as the last time you'd seen it. You whimper as he shuffles forward, lifting your legs up into the air to spread you wide for him.

Almost forgetting you can speak now, you whimper wordlessly for a few moments, before making out a weak, "Jimin," tone pleading.

"Shh," he coos, his cockhead tapping at your drenched entrance, making you shiver. "One more, little mouse."

"I can't," you sob, chest hitching as he slips into you, just bigger than the dildo. You let out a reedy cry at how he strikes you're abused g-spot, and his fingers massage the backs of your thighs soothingly.

"You can," Jimin insists, fucking into you slowly, making you hiss every time, "just one more for me. You have your word."

You sob at the overstimulating madness as his pace picks up, driving so intensely inside of you, but you don't use the safeword. There's a kind of euphoria bliss to being stretched to your limits, pushed so far, and you trust him to take care of you, want to do a good job for him.

So you shake your head, moans blending into cries blending into whimpers. "Fuh-fuck," you gasp as once more sharp stimulation turns warm again, and you near a fourth orgasm. You shiver under Jimin, his thrusts so deft and powerful, jerking your body in rhythm. "I ca- I can't cum again," you admit shakily, "'s too much, Jimin, I can't take it!"

Jimin grunts with the force of his thrusts, but his hands are gentle as they keep your legs spread. "You're almost there, little mouse, you're doing so well."

Your back arches violently when he drops one of your legs to rub at your clit, fresh tears streaming into your hairline. "Fuck, oh god, I'm gonna- fuck!"

You stream as your final orgasm takes you like a train, and a feeling you've never experienced rushes through you as you squirt, thighs clamping iron tight around his hips as he curses at the sight and spills into your trembling body.

Even in the throes of his own orgasm, you feel Jimin's hands pass up and begin releasing you from the headboard, your arms falling limply as he cups your face, barely even rocking into you as every slight movement plunges you into oversensitivity.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath with closed eyes as this thumbs brush away your tears, his cum hot inside you.

"God, Y/n, you were amazing, did so well for me," he confesses lowly in your ear, and you let out a whimper as he presses a single kiss to your cheek, the most tender he's been with you so far.

"Did well," you repeat mindlessly, "Jiminnie."

"You did," he promises, and you hiss as he pulls himself out of you carefully, the feeling of his seed mixed with your own cum flooding out down onto the sheets. "God, look at you," Jimin muses under his breath, surely not meant for you to hear.

Barely conscious, your eyes flutter, and the last thing you remember seeing is him stripping off his expensive white cotton blouse, cleaning you up with it so gently that you barely feel the sting on your clit.

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

TAGLIST

Okay real talk doing 5 ppl per comment takes fucking AGES so imma just try 45 since last time 50 didn’t work.

@agustdpeach @tinysweetscrown @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @saikokirastuff​ @kim-ji-woo-hoo​

@starryskyslove @taemetiger @wildly-lost-lantern @mini-coop25 @bbbrats

@crafty-babe @megahwn @sope-and-shine @kuppyjiminie @igot7-penta-seo

@brooklyn11208 @taetaehooray @heathenssss @ironicarmy @mykingdomismyheaven

@franklytae @ddaenggtan @scribbleseas @ex-silent-reader @lovelysky15

@0nlyours0 @houseofarmanto @xddaengx @bucky-thorin-winchester @joonadore

@shi-tmp3 @latina-army @djasheyash99 @yeontanie21 @chogiyeol-utopia  

@swanqook @parksfilter @jungtaeyoongles @lilylovsu @kaitlynmarie1120

@karma299 @tearkth @hjordan1994 @bangtan-dreamland @sarcasmflowsinmyveins​

The rest will be in the comments!

Unable to tag @risefallrise @btsphdotcom @kitty-queen-13  @stardust-and-ashes@crazykpopaddict @positivelyjada @paradisetaemin  @awixxx @litty-dumb @passionate-love-57911 @sweeneyblue1 @carrooooooooo @purplepearl07

[ginjointsintheworld]

So not trying to be gloomy but I re-watched Janet's most recent live & a few things she said were telling. In response to question of taking Max's role "she might be lucky to keep her job with some of the stuff she's pulled" and how watching Bloom in love while "enjoyable" it's "also terrifying" because of the secret; waiting for shoe to drop. Janet's worried that she still has to deal with her issues with abandonment. Can Bloom work through abandonment with or w/out Leyla?

I ran out of characters but to continue on from my question about abandonment with or w/out Leyla. I could imagine a scenario where the fallout results in Bloom finding a way to get Leyla's spot back or something comparable. Realizing how hurt Leyla is she doesn't try to control the situation and allows herself to let Leyla go. Obvs it's Leyla's choice but we end the season wondering if Leyla chooses to stay or go.

it's hard to gage how much to read into what the actors say because they do try to speak in a way that toes the lines but keep it exciting. and outside of the 'bloom will be lucky to keep her job' comment, is there anything she said that we weren't already conscious of? cause we've all been waiting for the other shoe since 3x14. whether it resolves well or not, we knew going into s4 that a fallout was inevitable. also i genuinely wonder if the writers have even decided yet how they want the entire fallout story between lauren and leyla to play out? for all we know they're still storyboarding everything past discovering the secret and nothing is set in stone. you'd think though that if they were planning on making this be the entire s4 storyline and even use it as a cliffhanger into s5, that's a lot of investment and they'd want to keep the relationship/leyla.

i could see lauren doing that, pleading a 'punish me however you see fit, what i did was wrong. but leyla is innocent she didn't know' case kind of like what she was doing with brantley in s3. if they did want to sit in the abandonment issue and focus on lauren working through that independently, there are ways to temporarily "disappear" leyla without writing her out. she could keep the residency but switch to the night shift and be under candelario's leadership instead. that way she's offscreen but easy to reintroduce when the time comes. idk a part of me thinks that if they wanted to write her out via leaving NA for a residency elsewhere (maybe the one in spokane) then they would have played up on leyla's nagging feeling of isolation from the other residents and that she didn't earn or deserve her spot at NA. but now that she's getting along with the other residents and have shown multiple times that she IS a skilled and talented doctor by her own merits, that could give her the fire to say 'yes, lauren may have gotten me this spot but i was the one who proved that i'm good enough to be here' and stay.

or devil's advocate, it could just be groundwork to make leaving hurt even more :/

bottom line is we could theorize until the cows come home but ultimately all we can do is watch it play out and there's still at least 3/4th left of the season to go. a lot can happen.

[shesawriter39049]

|7 DEEP| M| MASTERLIST|

SMUT/ANGST/FLUFF/POLY AU 

AU SUMMARY- Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with! This is a candid in-depth look at the rollercoaster ride that is your life!

ALSO LOWKEY A RAGS TO RICHES STORY.....

Namjoon, Yoongi, Jin, Tae, Hoseok, and Jimin, all already work with the OC and Joon, Kookie comes in later one as a new hire...and the possible final piece…

DISCLAIMER: Obv this is a poly so the boys are Bi..but outside of kissing and dirty talk I have not YET ventured into physical MXM….

NOTE- As long as this keeps getting support the initial plan is 7 one-shots, one for each boys. Everyone installment will have smut as well as a overall storyline, one that not only ties into your job, but also the OC’s (AKA YOU) special dynamic with each individual member. The last one-shot (7th) will be the first and maybe only one where smut wise it’s all 7 of them, it will finally address how they all came together, and will be partially a flashback sequence. HOWEVER, there will be bits and pieces of the “Characters” lives and what not sprinkled within the “drabbles” too...so those will also be worth reading especially, as the story developes....or at least reading the summaries! 

Kookie will make appearances throughout, however, he is NOT as involved off rip as the other boys…

ONE-SHOTS SO FAR :

AFTER-HOURS- NAMJOON X OC (Tae comes in at the end) - 

ABOUT- Your husband and business partner find you up way past acceptable work hours for the 3rd night in a row! So, daddy has to step in and remind you that’s not something we do in this household. You come before work, in every sense of the phrase!

OR-You're in desperate need of a 2nd videographer/editor, because Yoongi’s in over his fucking head! So here you are, up at 1 AM scrolling through resumes because your that boss that hates to overwork her employees so she overworks herself!

AKA- “MEET THE KIMS” 

PRETTY PLEASE- TAEHYUNG X OC - ( Joon comes in at the end)

About- Tae fucks you on top of your receptionist's desk before you fire her…

Or- Tae’s feeling a little needy...and somewhat high-key self continuous about you possibly hiring a new production assistant...AKA...Jungkook. It seems as though Mr. Kim takes pride in being the youngest within the office! It seems as though your baby boy just needs a little..reassurance…

JIN & CHOCOLATE- JIN X OC (FT A lil Seok at the end ) - 

(5K SMUT WITH A SIDE OF PLOT! NOT JIN’S INTRO CHAPTER) 

About-You suck Jin off…and brownie batter may or may not be somewhat involved because why the fuck not. Oh, Hoseok comes over to drop off weed…and welll….doesn't exactly leave

Or- His assistants birthday is tomorrow and she’s insisted on him making his infamous “Dizzy Brownies” AKA…pot brownies and Jin being the perfectionist he is, scrapes the first batch. You however, think they’re fine and if he’s not gonna bake with said  batter you’ll find use for some of it…..Then Hosoek stops by to bring the missing ingredient…weed and his dick…

TOUCH ME , TEASE ME- NAMJOON X OC 

(5K, IN COLORATION TO THE EVENTS THAT WILL TAKE PLACE IN “GOT ME LOOSIN’ ALL MY COOL)

About- Namjoon eats you out the minute you walk in the door because well…that’s the kinda husband he is!

Or- Jimin text’s Namjoon to brace him for the mood you’ll more than likely be in after a day full of drama and finally firing the front desk receptionist! Which essentially red for him to make you come hard AF and then feed you….OH, and You guys invite Yoongi over to talk about the Tae and Kookie “Thing”

PRIVATE SHOW- TAE X OC (NEW) 

(5k, Holiday esque one-shot however for the 1st time it does dive into the downside of being in a poly relationship that’s essentially a secret in the publics eye) 

About-Just a casual lunch outing where Tae’s trying to do his job and your trying to get him off under the table with your shoe...nothing new!

OR- Tae and yourself are grabbing lunch at 71 Above, after checking out the last couple of venues for the company's end of the year Holiday party. While at said restaurant, it becomes a humbling reminder that the most important people in your life are essentially a secret...cute!

 UP AND COMING: In no particular order! 

MUTED- YOONGI X OC (SIDE JIN)- HIATUS

Note, this is more of a smut drabble though it will be around 3k...this is NOT Yoongi/Jin’s official “Introduction” if that makes sense….(SNEAK PEEK IS LINKED) 

About-Yoongi goes down on you in the back seat while you’re on a business call….Jin’s driving, lowkey watching..and being a little shit the entire time…

Or- You’re on the phone with a dick of an investor and a second away from losing your shit and calling off the entire deal…however…your boys decide to “distract” you. Give you a little something to keep you at ease so you don’t blow this 6 figure account…

MAKE ME PROUD- JIMIN X OC (ALL THE MEMBERS ARE IN THIS BRIEFLY)

About-  Jimin and yourself take a trip to get a sneak peek at “Filter” before it opens… and Jimin fucks you on top of the bartop…

Or- Jimin’s ready to make his first solo big boy investment….AKA...opening up his own Gay club in WeHo...and the new business venture also reopen’s old wounds about his past. Both good and bad..but at the end of the day he remembers he wouldn’t the version of himself that he’s oh so proud of...without a little someone named “Y/N” 

 “PARTY FAVORS”- YOONGI X OC- 

About- You and Yoongi get a little one on one time while in Amsterdam, IE getting completely stoned, and attending a sex show..hell maybe even joining in on a sex show...shit just get’s wild in the Dam!

OR- You and your boys jet out to Amsterdam for the weekend to celebrate 16 AVN award nominations (AKA THE TONY’S/GRAMMY’S OF PORN) and while high and in a country where nobody knows who you are...(which means Yoongi and yourself are free to do as you please even in public)....Yoongi admits for the first time that sometimes he feels a type of way that HE wasn’t the one that married you considering the two of you were a thing FIRST....

“CHAMPAGNE SHOWERS” - JIN X OC (Side Namjoon)- NEW 

About- Jin says he's coming over to discuss business over brunch, champagne, and a nice Jacuzzi bath…which, of course, leads to more than just talk about “Finances and portfolio expansions” 

OR: Jin’s the eldest, he loves control, he needs control, hints why he’s the finical controller..always has been...even in the domestic sense. Jin’s also shit at feelings he’s used to being the shoulder to cry on not needing the shoulder..he’s not used to feeling vulnerable...so it’s not to easiest for him to admit that he misses being the one you all come home too...misses being “needed”! He’s used to being the one that has his shit together, being the glue that’s held you lot together during your worst times..so this...is completely out of his comfort zone!

“ALL EYES ON ME”  - HOSEOK X OC (FT OT7)-  NEW 

About- Hoseok and yourself have sex in a very questionable place while at the launch party for ‘Spectrum” I.E. your newest business venture...sex toys…your man deserves a little…”Thank you” for all the work he’s put in...including planning this party!

OR- Hoseok’s in over his fuckin head, he’s the one essentially spearheading the launch of “Spectrum” which is obviously his job as the head of Marketing, tactical ETC, however, this is just..different...he’s literally the one steering the boat. He’s good at what he does he knows this, he’s fucking made for it...but...it;s still’ bringing out some old, nasty insecurities...reminding him how he's his own worst critic...a perfectionist to the fault. Reminding them of those days where he never thought he was good enough...and it would absolutely break him if he lets you lot down! 

“GOT ME LOOSIN’ ALL MY COOL) -KOOK X READER | JIMIN X READER (SMUT) FT- YOONGI & TAE

About- Jimin and yourself take Jungkook shopping for a new suit to wear to the “Spectrum” launch party! OH, and Jimin fucks you in the backseat of your truck in the parking garage of the mall…..

OR: You know Kookie still in that “Broke college grad” phase only being with the company barley a month, and you don’t want him to feel self-conscious at the event! You’ve also been too busy to really check in with him to see how he’s adjusting! So, you thought something like this, in a more laxed atmosphere, would be a good solution! Oh and Jimin, honestly he’s just nosey as fuck and inched himself along, like nobody really invited him he invited his damn self! Also Jungook can’t underatand why the fuck your all so damn attractive...like...why!?

AKA-MEET JUNGKOOK JEON

SNEAK PEEK 

***

THE “FINAL” ONE-SHOT,  IS NOT FULLY OUTLINED YET

******

FINAL NOTE-

This series is open to request...for one-shot/ member scenarios/drabbles.

The initial 7 one-shots are done to get the dynamic and I guess you could say “Plot” set in stone...however, once that’s done and in-between I’m open to random scenarios as long as it somewhat coincides with the “Universe”

This is a story that follows normal day to day life in a sense....they just happen to live a very exciting one!

Anything from them going grocery shopping and making dinner...all the way to the OC and one of the boys fooling around on set...as long as it fits the vibe. I’m down!

   *** To clarify as well...publicly ( And in the workplace) the world just knows your married to Namjoon....the whole poly situation is not something blasted on your Wiki...at least not yet....***

(Optional)

***POSTIONS’S WITHIN THE COMPANY*** 

(Obv things are spread out now and they have other employees but they all STILL oversee multiple jobs...It’s a habit now. For so many years they couldn’t afford the help! So, now that they can they’ve just become a little...protective of said job duties..) 

Y/n Kim(26)- CEO/Founder/HR/Storyboard/Content  creator/Directory/Scriptwriter/Talent scout/ALL OF THE ABOVE (Set design, DVD author, 2nd Location manager, etc)   

Namjoon Kim (26)- CEO/ Founder/ Director/ Content analyst/ Lead scriptwriter/ Sr Production manger/ ALL OF THE ABOVE (IT, web design, outreach, etc)

Yoongi Min (27)- Head digital producer/ Program/site Planner/Production manager/Sound engineer/Production scheduler

Taehyung Kim (24)-Executive Assistant/ Content admin/ location manager/Wardrobe assistant/backup talent scout & health liaison

Seokjin Kim (28)- Senior Accountant/ Sales manager/ Financial controller/Logistics/Operations

Jimin Park (25)- Head talent scout/ Model Liaison/ Wardrobe/ Hair & Makeup coordinator/ Onset assistant/Health Liaison

Hoseok Jung (26)- Social media/ Streaming manager/Tactical marketer/ Advertising/event manager/PR

NOW HIRING: FOR A VIDEO EDITOR/IMAGE PROCESSOR/SOUND EDITOR/SECONDARY PHOTOGRAPHER AKA-

 “PRODUCTION COORDINATOR“

....WELCOME TO ONYX!

[thebibliomancer]

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 6

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because the quest is back on!

Last time in book: Kylan and Naia have joined forces with Rian to overthrow the Skeksis. Unfortunately, Kylan has also been declared a traitor by the Skeksis. The three decide to leave Stone-in-the-Wood immediately and pursue separate plans. Rian will go to the All-Maudra with the vial of Mira goo. Kylan and Naia will go find Aughra and try to alert all Gelflings to what the Skeksis are doing.

Chapter 6

The heroes make their way through the forest to the Black River. Kylan sings a Jarra-Jen story that gets Rian to open up.

The gang... is there a catchy name for the protagonists? Kylan’s crew? Anyway, they’re leaving Stone-in-the-Wood in the dark of the night because at least 2 out of 3 and probably 3 out of 3 are fugitives.

But more importantly:

“Best wishes!” Mythra said. “When I’m big, I’ll come and join you. I fear no lying Skeksis!”

Mythra is too powerful!

“Once you’re big enough to not be eaten in one gulp. Then I’ll welcome you.”

It was the first playful thing Kylan had heard the soldier say, and it was endearing.

It really is!

I love the dynamic between Rian and Mythra.

The three set off in RPG formation: Rian in the front, squishy Kylan in the middle, and Naia in the back. Kylan, in Kylan fashion, feels bad and tells himself he brings value to the party somehow, even if he doesn’t know how.

Best boy Kylan, you’re the best boy. But also: you came up with a great third option between Rian and Naia’s position last chapter. That’s something!

The group also starts discussing whether the Skeksis have been preying on the Gelfling for a long time. Kylan brings up the census, how the Skeksis come twice a year to record the number of Gelfling. Rian even darkly calls it a harvest.

“We count the peach-berry trees every spring, and pluck half the blossoms so they bloom in the summer. That way we know they will all bear fruit, and how many. Mother Aughra taught the Gelfling these things long ago, and we’ve performed the counting and plucking every year since the Age of Innocence... and yet we couldn’t see that the Skeksis were doing the same to our people in front of our very eyes.”

Naia said, “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to consider.”

They wonder whether the Skeksis perform the census with the Dousan and the Grottan. Rian says that he’s only ever seen a single Dousan guard at the Castle and none from the Caves of Grot. He speculates that the Skeksis may have finished them off long ago without any one noticing.

Grim.

Kylan can’t help but contrast this grim Rian with the sentimental, kind Rian he saw in the dreamfast and also in his interactions with Mythra and Shoni.

Guy’s been through so much.

But Kylan has an idea! STORY TIME. Of course about Jarra-Jen, obvs.

Naia: “I could use a break from the stories of our real life.”

Mood.

Many songs of our lightning-born hero are known

From courage and cleverness are these stories grown

But no song is filled with such heartache and yen

As this one of the Dew-Tree and brave Jarra-Jen

Kylan sings the song of Jarra-Jen’s cool girlfriend Amiris of Darkwood, the Singer of Dew. She apparently personally applies the dew to every blade of grass, which is impressive.

Also, she had green hair. The Gelfling are anime people in this continuity apparently.

“Jarra-Jen loved Amiris, as a singer loves song” which is a good line. And they danced every night. They had a really good relationship.

Then Kaul, the Dark King of Sand, ruined the mood by Ganondorfing all over the happy times.

He kidnapped Amiris and took her to the dunes and demanded she make the desert green like Hyrule. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she couldn’t? Because of climate?

But Kaul was a dick about it.

So the King, at her failure, grew wrathful in spite

He took her out in the desert, upon sands hot and white

There he punished her, holding her face to the suns

“If I can’t have the Garden, then neither will no-one.”

Cool rhyme though.

On the fourth morning, Jarra-Jen finally found her but too late. ‘She wanted to cry but the tears had been burned out of her eyes’ amount of too late. She dying.

So she makes a magic seed pop out of her chest, as ya do.

Jarra-Jen pleaded and begged, cried for her not to go

She put the seed in his hand, bade him help it to grow

Then she melted to stardust. The wind took her away

Jarra-Jen left with the seedling on his loneliest day.

Dang, that’s sad.

Don’t you hate it when your gf melts into stardust after staring into the suns too long?

Jarra-Jen plants the seed like Amiris asked but it won’t grow because this is still the desert.

He called to the earth. He called to the sky

But nobody answered. The dew-seed would die

With no other hope, Jarra-Jen fell to his knees

And wept...

Bursting forth from the sands came an enormous tree

Brown of skin, strong of branch, and emerald of leaf

Its roots rippled the earth, its crown brushed the sky

And Jarra-Jen poured forth every last tear he could cry

I feeeeel like salt water wouldn’t be great for growing a tree but Jarra-Jen is a folk legend. This kind of thing is just what they do.

Anyway, Kylan finishes up the song. And I feel like this is the origin story of whatever the Patron Tree of the Dousan are. Huge magic tree in desert? Gotta be.

Naia helpfully tells the moral of the story to the audience. I mean, this is YA. And also, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate the cliff notes.

“I liked it,” she said. “I think it’s a good lesson... We will always face hard times, but it’s important to remember that our sadness can often be what becomes our strength. There’s no weakness in sorrow or grief.”

Rian says nothing about the story but he sniffs and wipes his cheek. He was moved.

Good song-telling, song-teller Kylan.

And what good timing, he finished the story right as they reach the Black River and it’s time to split up.

Hm. Earlier I joked about Naia having to go to Ha’rar after all the detours last book so its funny to me that she’s still not going. I wonder if she’ll ever go to Ha’rar.

Anyway, Rian gives them directions for how to find Aughra’s house from here.

Realizing that they may never see Rian again if something goes wrong, Kylan tells him that he’s not alone and “we may be strangers by blood, but we’re family in arms.”

Rian softens for them.

“I miss Gurjin and the others very much,” Rian confessed. “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger. Every night I dream of the Skeksis hunting me, killing anyone nearby. Gurjin, Mira, Mythra, Timtri, my mother... The only way I can rest is if I’m alone. Once the All-Maudra has been told, maybe I will stop looking over my shoulder, but until then... I couldn’t see you in danger when Gurjin died to protect us.”

=(

“I do trust you both, though. As I trusted Gurjin. I only fear that my sorrow will not be enough to grow anything.”

“Only if it’s salted with remorse,” Kylan said. “Good journey to you, Rian. We’ll meet again in Ha’rar, with help from Mother Aughra and stories of our adventures on the High Hill.”

=]

Rian floats away in a boat and with his last words as he disappears into the shadow warns Kylan and Naia to stay away from finger vines. Whatever those are!

After Rian disappears along the river and the other two Gelfling prepare a second boat, Naia compliments how on the nose the story choice was.

“That song of Jarra-Jen was really something,” Naia said ... “I think it really moved him. I wouldn’t mind meeting the song teller who wrote it. The song that soothed the soul of the boy who first saw the Skeksis betrayal!”

“You don’t have to wait to meet that song teller,” he said. “You already did, in Sami Thicket, when he was running away from home.”

“When he was...” Naia coughed in surprise as she put one and one together. Then she crowed with laughter. “You devil! You made it up just for Rian?”

AMAZING.

Kylan figured Rian wouldn’t listen if Kylan just straight up said the stuff about sorrow growing good things so he wrapped it in a story HE MADE UP ON THE SPOT INCLUDING RHYMES and sang it!

What a good song-teller.

And Rian thought wow this ancient story about a cultural folk hero hits me where I live.

Amazing.

I hope Rian passes that off as a real Jarra-Jen story and it gets spread around and becomes part of the accepted canon of Jarra-Jen adventures.

I wonder if there was already an Amiris and a story linking Jarra-Jen to the Patron Tree in the desert. How much Kylan was able to pick up from other stories to make his seem more legit.

“I don’t regret it one bit, Song Teller,” Naia said, as the opposite bank came into view in the dark. “Taking you along. I would have been a fool not to. I hope you know this as I know it.”

It was possibly the sweetest thing she’d ever said to him, and Kylan finally let out the smile he’d been holding back.

BEST FRIENDS.

[fredriks]

❝ What I’ve learned from a mirror? Look too hard and you’ll find you a stranger. ❞  FREDERICK ‘FRED’ WEASLEY II looks a lot like that muggle, JUSTICE SMITH, right? Only 19 years old, that GRYFFINDOR  alumnus works as a TRAINEE HEALER and is sided with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. HE identifies as a CISMAN and is a HALFBLOOD. [ PLOT ARC 23, PROPHECY 26, THE DROWNED. ]  (cami, she/her, 20, gmt+1)

DEATH TW, PANIC ATTACK TW, ANXIETY TW

PAST

george weasley, entrepreneur legendary, and angelina weasley, quidditch superstar, turned ireland’s national team manager. the couple was a shining example of success and happiness, and that only grew at the news that they’d soon have their first child. a new generation of the ever growing family was on its way, and fred was to take a quiet spot within it - not the eldest, not the youngest, just right. 

born to salt and mist, fred grew up by the sea, in a house his father insisted he must build himself (and constantly repair, due to all the flaws in the construction). the irish coast is carved in sharp cliffs, and some of his very first memories are the wind at the very top - which he swears would have blown him away if his mother wasn’t holding him - and the clashing of waves, making the ground shake. small as he was, frederick didn’t fear the powerful water, but was drawn to it instead. to the contemplation of how much stronger and destructive that natural force was, to the beauty of it, to a humble acknowledgement. in retrospect, he knows this should have been his first fear. sometimes it even feels like a confirmation that there was never a mistake, he WAS brave, but perhaps simply lost it along the way.  

a couple years later, roxanne joined the family. fred was always rather close with his cousins on both sides of the family, but roxanne was different. he couldn’t quite understand it, but it was with her that he developed his role of protector. even though they were so close in age, fred embraced his big brother place, and soon that tender caring way of being was shown to most, if not all. he’d rush faster than all to whichever cousin took a fall, his eyes would fill up with tears at the sight of the smallest bruise on his mother, the result of the quidditch matches she won. he quietly understood melancholic states way before he had any business in knowing what sadness was - his father got unexpected hugs and gifts of drawings after bad days at work, and at a certain date every year. from a rather young age, fred had a knack for emotional intelligence. (this is obv likely to change when we finally have a roxanne, which reminds me - GIVE US ROXANNE)

as a way to connect them to the muggle part of their heritage, angelina made sure her children got as much of a non-magical education as they could before they headed off to hogwarts. with two hard-working parents, it was also the most practical solution. thus, fred’s days were constant tastes of both sides, and that was simply his reality: in the morning he’d be walked to school, just a few streets away. they’d play and learn the alphabet and talk about their favourite cartoons. in the afternoon he’d sit with grandpa arthur, who seemed to ask lots of questions about rather normal things, or he’d “help” dad and his uncle at the store, which mostly meant passing coins from customers to the cashier (a rather important task). george and angelina worried about the potential signs of magic fred should one day show, and how they might ostracize him and later roxanne in such a society, but they soon learned they had little to fear.

fred took a little longer to begin showing clear signs of magic. long enough to bring around some speculation of him being a squib, but it turned out that his magic, regardless of his lack of control or the height of his emotions, was simply subtle - flowers bloomed a little more, a mirror fogged up, a loose thread on a shirt for pulled a few more centimeters. it still isn’t a flashy sort of magic to this day - sometimes it’s like his magic runs on a very empty pipe, leaking a few drops at a time only. others, it’s as if he’s working with a rather fine thread, rich but fragile. he’s yet to learn if there’s an actual block in his system that he need to work out, or if he’s simply carrying a type of magic he’s hasn’t fully understood yet. 

when fred was still rather young, his family showed concern about his lack of complex speech, which soon developed into a very clear stammer. caring as they were, the couple tried all methods, magical and muggle, to help their young son - after lots of trial and error, they settled on a dublin speech therapist, who stuck by fred for most of his early life in constant sessions. the little kids who copied his stuttering with mockery in the playground soon became a foggy memory and at age twelve he had his very last session. his speech was fluent. “cured”, he’d thought. 

his speech was intertwined with his signs of magic  at first. most emotional reactions, which lead magical children to show uncontrollable magic, were conveyed through his stammer. if fred was nervous or angry, it intensified, or his voice was simply blocked. it took close attention for anyone to notice all of this, and his subtle works of magic, and to this day that is how it works for fred. his spells are subtle, almost dimmed. he has an eye for the small touches and delicate work, but can’t make a single thing explode. 

then, it came the time to pick a side. there wasn’t much choice, given how it’d always been expected that the year he turned eleven, fred would move to hogwarts and leave the muggle world behind, so he didn’t say a word. however, there was real anguish in saying goodbye to his school friends and realising that the following year there’d be no way back. he was a wizard, who’d lead a wizard’s life. he BELONGED somewhere else. doing what was expected of him, the boy said a tearful goodbye to his parents, after confessing once again his fear of living away from them; held his little sister for as long as possible;  and took his cousin’s  hand, joining them in the whole chapter of his life. 

HOGWARTS

GRYFFINDOR. fred had no preferences, so he was silent as the hat pondered for a few seconds, just short to a minute. at first the decision made sense - his family had a longstanding reputation in the house of roar, so why not? his namesake, the war hero fred weasley, had been a brave man. his mother was stoic and valiant against everything. frederick had never feared the waves. 

the doubts took a few months to set in. shy and simple, his housemates often overwhelmed him, and the natural feeling of belonging that his family spoke about was a promise that never came. the true sense of displacement came after his very first winter break. he’d returned home, to his house, family, and beloved muggle friends he’d left behind. his routine briefly returned to what it was before hogwarts and january was a cold and harsh reality check - on the second day back, he drafted a letter to his mother, asking her to let him go home. but he never sent it. instead, he made the best he could with the little tools he had, deciding to become a great wizard, rather than a great lion. after all, fred could not quit. the temptation would be torturous, but he had higher expectations of himself. 

fred made few but intense friendships, mostly with kids from other houses. he accepted the narrative that he was not brave, nor noble, much less the hero type, but instead a gryffindor legacy (and that was the sole reason of his placement). he focused on his grades instead, his dream job adapting from doctor to healer - sleepless nights and migraines to achieve the one goal he had in mind, even if he’d stopped feeling the pull towards it by third year. 

from the very start, fred’s relationship with his magic was complicated. he enjoyed it, surely, and was able to perform it, but his biggest aptitude was for the theory of it all. essays, understanding the mechanics, homework. at times, it felt like not much about him would have been different, had fred stayed in the muggle world. sometimes, he even revisited that thought of leaving it all behind - but he never did. after all, he was a driven young man, he couldn’t QUIT.

everything changed in his final year. there’d been commotion in the background, but fred had willingly shut it off until his uncle’s murder. after all, the aurors got it, right? the legendary order of the phoenix got it, yeah? headmaster longbottom got it. HARRY POTTER got it. long gone were the days where children such as himself had to worry about dangers outside the stone walls of the castle, and fred had nothing in common with the generation past, who’d begun their own revolution from within hogwarts. uncle harry’s murder changed it all.

fred knew his limits and fears,  and he’d never think of himself as a revolutionary, a child soldier. yet, his heart belonged to a kinder place, and he was good. out of all the uncertainties that surrounded him and his narrative, frederick knew for certain that he was a good person, and that the world required more of him than he’d been so far willing to give. on his final year at hogwarts, a spark of  purpose lit up after he made one of the few spontaneous decisions in his life, and joined the newly formed knights.

as far as he could remember, fred was a protector, so the decision made sense. it was an unexpected decision nonetheless, but soon the boy realised that at last, something clicked. whenever their work got hard or scary, he didn’t wish to quit, but was energized by a hidden fire. for once, that flame didn’t feel dim. his passion didn’t waver, perhaps because it was more of a necessary task than a hobby. taking the codename of LUCAN - a loyal companion to king arthur even after he’d been hurt himself - fred channeled the bravery he’d never seen in himself. he channeled the knights from the myths of his group. his father and mother. his uncle fred. pushing himself to the very edge just to accumulate a little more kindle.

his seventh year was a haze. like an adrenaline rush, it went over his head. fred felt larger than life and than himself, too big for his skin. while starting his time at hogwarts was harsh, leaving was much harder. how could he in good conscience walk out when they were so close to their goal, to bring back the bravest man he knew? how could he leave them to their own devices? and selfishly, not that he’d admit it - how could he break away from his newfound purpose and from what he so devotedly believed int?

PRESENT

the order of the phoenix, counting legends among its ranks such as harry potter, alastor moody, marlene mckinnon, fred and george weasley - and now him. his friends at school collected their cards. he knew their legendary stories, some directly from the players’ mouths. 

it was the logical next step, but when he joined, just some days out of hogwarts, there was a clear distinction. he was a child once more, rather than lucan, a brave knight. the knights weren’t seen as a necessary part of the war, the order couldn’t yet comprehend the work they’d been doing. neither could fred. 

he took up the codename HORTON, after his patronus, an elephant. the mighty size of the animal, he speculates, is due to his own fears and how much he needs a big protector that can shield him - he’d never consider the possibility that there’s more of him within his small body, or that HE could be that very protector. the codename was the first thing that popped to his head, a memory of horton, the elephant, a character from dr. seuss books he was read as a kid. a kind and loyal character that somehow always achieved his goals, quite a good parallel. did he casually tell the older order people he wished would take him seriously that his codename came from children’s books? yes. no regrets. 

graduated with the soul-crushing requirements for healer training, fred had a ten year plan drawn and step one was taken care of. it was beyond competitive, everyone trying to climb higher and get the best shot - a shock to his system. fred would fall asleep over books, the work consuming him even at home, and yet it wasn’t enough. ‘your heart isn’t in it’, an older healer said to him once, after yet another failure to keep up. it made no sense. on paper, he was the perfect candidate: kind, caring, smart, high grades. hands on? he froze, it was as if his tongue was stuck once more, words and actions unable to get out. 

his heart wasn’t in it. it was busy with the order, where he kept trying to prove himself worthy despite his youth and inexperience. it was busy with his fellow knights, who he couldn’t leave hanging. 

frederick knew that to be taken seriously, he had to close the door on the knights. outwardly he did so, but his research on the resurrection never ended - it was the only logical solution, and one that would bring such joy to his family and himself as well, or so he thought. letters and patronuses, secretly sending research back and forth, maps and notes and order secrets signed with LUCAN at the bottom. their work was too important to stop, and he hyper fixated on it, until death did its bidding. 

first, do no harm. he was not a muggle doctor, but his code of ethics was the very same. on paper, they’d done all the right moves, but it ended terribly. appalled by the results, he fell into a deep hole once the consequences of his actions hit him. as a future healer, he should have known better than to meddle on life and death. as older, graduated, an ORDER member, he should have known better. as frederick weasley, with all the standards he’d self imposed upon himself, he should have simply known better. 

guilt is a consuming feeling, corroding one from the inside out, soul and body. headmaster longbottom was murdered. they’d murdered him. he’d murdered him. and uncle harry, after a life of war, deserved to rest. he’d murdered him too, taking away all that he was and knew. there was blood on his hands. 

the order could not know. if they were made aware of the extent of his actions, how he’d used their resources and knowledge to do this, how he’d not broken away after graduating, they might just kick him out. sure, he’d fed his fire too much too fast, resulting in the predicament he found himself in, but he couldn’t simply put it out. there was too much of himself depending on it, and surely he could still do some work. some good work. when asked, he justified that “it felt right then”, but never that he’d kept on going. the shame over the hurt he’s helped bring about is too heavy. now, more than ever, his younger fellow knights are stuck in war, and he can do less and less about it. 

fred sets clearer lines now. terrified of what war can do to him, and how much of a slippery slope the feeling of usefulness and purpose is to him, he tries to keep himself in check. it barely works, though. his attention is on his healer work now, and how it can benefit the war. perhaps he was always meant to be a helper, not a fighter, or so he tries to convince himself. 

he’s trying to prove himself to the order and earn their trust and respect, but is petulant enough to ignore the experience of the battle-tried leaders. how can he not when at times he’s seen a better way, and been in the very center of it? his attempts to rise up fail when he constantly disagrees with methods and positions, but his voice shakes after one simple denial.

OTHER

“The Drowned will ultimately survive the war, but they will pay dearly for it. Doomed to outlive their loved ones, death might have been a much kinder fate for them.” fred wishes he could apply muggle logic to prophecies and such, but that’s a chance he could never take. the allocation of prophecies and people is a game he’s played many times - that drawer in his bedroom full of half-empty notebooks had a distinctive coldness to it. a mathematician getting equations in place. however, he’s never even entertained the thought that he could be a part of it. even though there are more fates than leaders, he’s just assumed that the war shall be longer than expected, that others will join and be found. 

he’s avoided the topic of mortality within a war, despite it having been the cause of many a demise within is family. during his heyday with the knights, he feared it often, but quietly. he feared for others mostly, and that still applies. the thought of his family and friends getting killed in the conflict drives him into full-blown breakdowns, so he’s learned to lock it out of his head. 

fred will develop a strong sense of survivor’s guilt alongside his already rather intense guilt. the fact that he sees himself as a minor background character, rather than even a small player, and that he constantly feels like whatever he’s done is simply not enough - it all adds up to him never believing he deserved the win that is surviving over all the fallen. every time he needs saving on the field, that someone must disarm his opponents for him or that he purely freezes - it just plays in his head in a loop. how could he consider himself worthy of surviving when he needs so much aid to do so?

death is always a trade. he’s learned that with neville’s death. so who is being traded for him?

he has inherited absolutely none of his father’s famous knack for pranks and being a class and family clown, but rather the bits of dry humour he gathered from both him and angelina. he’s also just too lame in general for it, i love him

his father’s shop in diagon alley is his safe place. after a bad shift at st. mungo’s or with the order, it’s always there that he returns to. it’s more impersonal than home, so bringing that heaviness with him there doesn’t stain the memory of the place. and, of course, being there simply brings his mood up, be it the contents of the shop or his uncle, father and other employees who’ve quite literally seen him grow up. sometimes even when george isn’t there, fred will sit around in his office, or just help shelf stock, marvel for a bit at the creativity that goes into some of the products. however, he visits the hogsmeade location much less.

it was always obvious he’d likely into end up working at weasley wizard wheezes full-time, that his ambitions lied in different places. that was never really an issue within the family. 

his work with the order is a bit all over the place, when they do allocate him a task (there’s a deep frustration growing within fred, though). he’s been doing some healing work, some field as well - although he’s not very good at it; most of all, he’s been doing logistics. moving refugees, spies, soldiers and objects under the radar, organizing who goes where and how - but all under very clear instructions from above. however that flame inside of him craves for more, for the rush once more. 

bravery can come in subtle ways. it doesn’t need to be a showy explosion of dauntlessness, but rather a willingness to remain somewhere terrifying, and to give name, body and soul to something worthwhile. he’s horrified every day, though.

fred has very much built a narrative about himself and his lack of importance and bravery in his head. no matter how often he proves himself wrong, it’s quite hard to change the way you’ve always been thinking.

there’s something very CONTAINED about fred. it always feels like he’s not giving people more than a surface level insight, or that there’s a bubbling underneath, barely contained by his skin. even his closest family struggles with this. he doesn’t quite have a reason for it besides expectations he’s placed on himself - who should fred be? what would fred say? how would fred react to this? or perhaps there’s just something wrong with him, a glass wall between him and the world. 

he has trouble expressing himself. he’s also quick to quit explaining himself anyway.

he’s used glasses since he was eight! goes for a thin rounder rim currently. 

fred has truly kept all knights secrets to himself. despite not being able to deal with the consequences of their mission, he doesn’t see them and the order as partner entities, and his loyalty is much stronger with his armored friends. 

in the last year or so, the techniques he’s learned to deal with his stammer have failed him. perhaps it’s due to the stress he’s been under, but fred has found himself more and more often stuck on a syllable, or fully unable to get any sounds out. especially when he needs to throw a spell out. 

he wishes the order and thus the revolution would be safer, not visible at all even. does think they should feel like they have something to hide. they’d have so much more of an advantage if the whole world didn’t just know them so easily - but his complaints get ignored at the order, especially when he puts them out in a very distinctively know-it-all tone. 

which he has most of the time. fred is very much a know-it-all, a tad arrogant even in that aspect. 

“tell the truth and run”

please make him stop with this ‘i’m not that significant, all people considered’ mindset

fred has a tendency to accumulate until he bursts. his family and close friends have seen their fair share of intense breakdowns coming from frederick. on a smaller scale, panic attacks as well. but he’s never made any push towards getting professional help, passing it out as a ‘thing i do. we’ve all got those, yeah?’

his name is actually frederick, just often shortened to fred. but truly, he prefers the full version. it has a smarter more classic feel to it, and it also helps him forget who he’s been named after and all the complicated feelings that come with that

raised in coastal ireland, fred spent a lot of time growing up at his grandparents on both sides of the family, and in diagon alley and hogsmeade, where his family owned shops. his accent was a tad confusing before he joined muggle school, and then the irishness really fixed. 

growing up in a very halfblood sort of environment and still having to this day close muggle friends had made him develop some rather muggle tastes, especially when it comes to technology and entertainment. huge video games enthusiast, we love a gamer

also loves chess though. and as much as he loves muggle things, nothing beats the rush of wizards chess

he was already graduated when the knights divided and got their daemons, so he didn’t exactly go that route, but he applauded their commitment to doing no further harm. he fears that himself, very often actually. that there’s nothing quite as strong stopping him from falling down the same rabbit hole again. 

really close with his parents and sister. still lives at home but is planning on moving out soon, although that’s quite a daunting step and he’d miss their house by the sea. 

breaks his glasses often 

has a baby face and that only makes it harder for others to take him seriously

messy gay

george dropped out and followed his dreams. angelina was highly successful and passionate about her work. sometimes fred feels like he's lacking that drive and that one perfect goal in his life-long plan. 

he’s the human embodiment of trying too hard

loving quidditch was not a question. raised in the cheering crowds, he got quite a privileged look inside the famous sport, having pictures with loads of quidditch stars, some of them being usual dinner guests back home. he learned to ride a broom quite young, but only applied for the hogwarts quidditch team once, in his third year. he got in, but left during his fifth to focus on his studies and his new role as prefect. he still watches professional games religiously, and is a die hard holyhead harpies fan., although his main allegiance was always shifting to where his mum was playing back then

a very easy crier. tells everyone to just ignore it. 

grandpa arthur got special tours of his muggle schools whenever the family got invited to events and plays. just frederick pulling him by his hand and showing him everything and adoring the curiosity. he always loved mixing both sides of his life quite a lot.

his wand wood (black walnut) doesn’t do well with inner turmoil and loses some of its accuracy and finesse. he’s been struggling with that a lot - always has, but in the past few months more than ever. catch fred throwing it against a wall and leaving the room, only to return and apologise 5 seconds later. 

STATS

name: FREDERICK ( named after his uncle. meaning ‘peaceful ruler’. ) LLYR ( meaning ‘the sea’. ) WEASLEY II

age: nineteen

date of birth: 6th of july, 2006

hometown: lahinch, ireland

current location: lahinch, ireland

gender: cis-man

pronouns: he/him

orientation: so gay

blood status: halfblood

hogwarts house: gryffindor

financial status: upper middle-class

spoken languages: english and can read ancient runes.

occupation: trainee healer

sun sign: cancer

moon: scorpio

mbti: ISTJ-T

moral alignment: lawful good

four temperaments: melancholic

element: water

enneagram: type 1 (the reformer)

father: george weasley ( b. 1978 )

mother: angelina weasley née johnson ( b. 1977 )

siblings: roxanne weasley ( b. ??? )

pets: a dog named lando and a snowy owl named hugh.

wand: black walnut, phoenix feather, twelve inches, reasonably supple.

patronus: elephant

electives: arithmancy & study of ancient runes

NEWTs: arithmancy (A), transfiguration (O), potions (E), herbology (E), charms (O), DADA (E)

hogwarts extracurriculars: prefect, quidditch chaser (3rd-5th year), briefly in the charms club during 4th year

favourite subject: study of ancient runes

least favourite subject: astronomy

[shhhhyoursister]

hi friends i wrote this all yesterday and just never posted it i guess and these thoughts are definitely less coherent but!!!!! they’re valid!!!!! so here is the second edition of.....

MUSIC IN DRUCK (3x02)

quick musical doodles - i’m including this just cause it makes me laugh, cause it starts and the first notes hit kinda heavy, especially cause you can see matteo sitting on the steps just flopped over and it seems like it could potentially be the start to a serious scene, but then you see the BOYS coming in and then you see matteo looking slowly up at them and carlos’ fucking face kills me every time he looks like he’s trying so hard not to laugh but jonas and abdi are walking with like,, a hint of swag??? and then you can see the “what the fuck” on matteo’s face, that part is just hilarious and i had to mention it

obvs - so i didn’t think i’d have much to say about this song (plays during the scene where david and matteo are awkward gay stuttering and then leonie comes over) but i think the function of it is to highlight the whole nervous/stuttery/apprehensiveness of approaching/talking to someone you’re developing a crush on??? and how you can obviously hear the music during the moments of awkward silence and there are no words so you’re just kind focusing on the fact that they aren’t speaking and it plays until david is completely gone

8896 - so this song gets interesting when you look into the lyrics a lil more,, this song plays while matteo is watching david try to shove his bag in the locker (as this post said it’s heavy bottom imagery) and when i looked ho the lyrics i was like 🤔🤔🤔 because the first line is “you say there is nothing to hide” which is interesting because both matteo and david, at this point in the story, are hiding pretty big things about themselves!!!! it gets even MORE interesting later on when you look in the 2nd chorus and see “we’re running down roads and crossing track stones / pay for the ticket, just enjoy the circus / run away another day” that first line kinda made me think about them leaving leonie and sara to go to the pool (i know they were riding bikes but you get it) which is further cemented by the last line?? like how many songs did the druck crew manage to find that reference “running away”???? that must have been someone’s entire job!!!!!!!! (also the fact that this song that mentions hiding things and running away leads up to matteo googling how to have sex with a girl when you’re not into her.....)

go! - AKDKAKD okay y’all there’s not even that much for me to say about this one i just needed to include it cause the absolute CAMP of having matteo fantasize about david walking down the hallway staring at him and then twirling while a dramatic saxophone song plays in the background???? are you kidding me???? that’s comedy gold

where’s the catch? - this song goes from rap to basically a few different voices going “aaaAAAHHHHH” (in like a nice melodic way of course) as he sees david in the bus, and then they the beat kicks in again as matteo is doing his weird 👁👄👁 intense staring, and it’s a very steady beat and it was kinda making me think about when you’re standing near your crush and you can kinda feel your heart beating a little harder and faster and you can maybe hear it a little in your ears and your palms are sweaty (moms spaghetti) and you’re trying to not be weird (matteo definitely did not succeed at that) and you’re just excited?? that’s the vibe i got with this song in this part, esp cause it sounds like it’s in kind of a weird key so it’s really driving in that “this is exciting but strange and kinda nerve wracking but i don’t hate it” vibe ya know??

**jazz - okay so i think this was such a fucking good song to play for this part???? “drink more water” is just....idk really funny to me?? but also the song itself is really chill and playing a rap song if they knew they were gonna cut the sound of the dialogue out was a really smart type of song to choose!!!! like it’s obvious that matteo is just staring at him and losing his mind over having a cute boy at his place, and the way they cut the words out when matteo and david are talking and slowly fade it out....it’s good dude it’s VERY good

love$ick - this song starts with a very interesting lil percussion bit that really sets up the tone for this part of the clip??? it’s fun and catchy and has an interesting beat and mixes really well with the sounds of two high dumbasses cooking gross sandwiches and falling in love :,,) it’s also kind of interesting that they chose to play a part with no words while they are cooking because there is very little actual dialogue, so unlike before where they filled the silence with fast rap, here they really want you to focus on the smaller details and the way their bodies already naturally kind of move around each other very well?? and the way they end it right after the boys each take a bite of the sandwich is really funny to me just cause you can obviously hear the *crunch* and then it stops and you hear them both going like “hmmm” “mhm” and the “weird....but also good??” i think i love every single decision this show has made so far with the music tbh

**go rilla - this song starts playing like the second before matteo picks up davids beanie, and it definitely isn’t the happiest sounding song, but while it has kind of a sadness to it the music drives in a way that makes the vibe more that matteo is sad that david left, but seeing the beanie is a moment of “oh, but now i get to interact with him again” so it’s a hopeful kind of sadness?? i’ve definitely talked about the hopefulness of some of the songs before but i feel like its the correct word?? like as a viewer i’m hearing that song and seeing him hold the beanie and i’m thinking to myself “oh, davids gone, but it’s not over yet folks!!!!”

ahh hope this was okay hope y’all enjoy readin my stupud ass thoughts about this topic lol next one soon??? probably??????

[ruoyeming]

My Fav Books, another chaotic list

Another quarantine review fest! I know I ranked my top anime but this is seriously too hard so I’m just going to list them to avoid hours of debate. Enjoy!

1) The Skulduggery Pleasant series

This whopper of a series (now at 15 books jesus christ I didn’t know there were that many I’ve only read about twelve) has a special place in my heart. I was FULLY obsessed with it throughout my tween - and teen - years, and for a reason. This shit just butters my bread like nothing else. The story follows a young girl Valkyrie Cain (who eventually becomes a young woman through the series) and her partner in crime, a fashionable living skeleton called Skulduggery Pleasant. They’re MAGICAL DETECTIVES!!!! Bitch!!! They use elemental magic - water, earth, fire, air - to fight off magic-wielding bad guys and look good doing it. The duo is hilarious and seriously shaped my sense of humour, the dry wit and comedic writing style stuck with me and influenced my own writing style to this day! As the series progresses we get a massive cast of characters but to me they’re all memorable, likable (mostly) and well-developed so that’s not an issue. I have no fukcing clue how Derek Landy comes up with his stories because every book in the series has an absolutely wild (yet unique) plot with its own twists and turns. It gets REALLY dark and depressing at times, gory, brutal etc etc especially in the later books I have no idea why this is labeled as a kids series.

10/10 for badassery, humour, and MAD codependency issues

2) The Feverwake series

This bitch is one hell of a YA series. It’s actually only a 2 book-series which is rare, but that’s not the only thing that sets it apart from other creations of its genre. It’s hard to explain the setup without waffling so I’ll just quote the blurb of the first book: “In the former United States, sixteen-year-old Noam Álvaro wakes up in a hospital bed, the sole survivor of the viral magic that killed his family and made him a technopath. His ability to control technology attracts the attention of the minister of defense and thrusts him into the magical elite of the nation of Carolinia.

The son of undocumented immigrants, Noam has spent his life fighting for the rights of refugees fleeing magical outbreaks—refugees Carolinia routinely deports with vicious efficiency. Sensing a way to make change, Noam accepts the minister’s offer to teach him the science behind his magic, secretly planning to use it against the government. But then he meets the minister’s son—cruel, dangerous, and achingly beautiful—and the way forward becomes less clear.”

As you can tell from this, the series is heavy on its politics but in a grounded, realistic and relevant way which is different to many other YA series. Marxist theory is brought up, and you can make some pretty strong links between the books and real events. The magic also has a semi-scientific explanation which is cool and adds to the realness. Anyways this series is action packed and full of twists, plus there’s a bisexual main character and queer romance at the core!! Wig!!! Very good for moral debate - how far is it acceptable to go to protect the oppressed before you become one of the oppressors? Dark and exciting series.

10/10 queer representation and political themes.

3) Spin the Dawn

It’s probably obvious that I’m biased towards YA books but they’re just so exciting and cool! Anyways this is about a girl living in a kind of alternate universe ancient China where magic exists. Maia Tamarin is a skilled seamstress who dreams of being the Imperial Tailor, a position that can only be held by a man. She poses as her brother to go to the royal palace and enter a competition full of skilled tailors, all vying for the role of imperial tailor. She also meets Edan; a mysterious, annoying, but SEXY mage who seems to know her secret identity? Oho? IMO this would be an elevated book if Edan had been a girl but that’s just me being gay. As the final challenge Maia is tasked with making 3 dresses from the sun, moon, and stars - a mission that takes her to the ends of the world in search of these magical materials (obvs Edan goes with her and they kiss kiss fall in love). It’s a fairly classic YA plot and characters but the combination of Project Runway, Mulan, and kind of Lord of the Rings(??) vibes makes for a very entertaining read. It’s also really fun to imagine what the clothes look like, plus the romance between Maia and Edan is very cute. Second book is yet to be published but sounds lit.

10/10 magic fashion and romance (despite its heterosexuality)

4) Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

Usually I steer clear of angsty gay stories because I’ve consumed too much of the depressing narrative which is all about suffering because of being gay, but fuuuuuuck this book is like the definition of bittersweet. Mostly bitter to be fair but it has a happy ending which was lovely after the emotional torment of the book. It’s about two teen boys - Aristotle is angry and repressed, Dante is eccentric but kind, and the two eventually form a strong friendship after meeting at the local pool. It’s kind of obvious that Ari is in denial about a few things, which leads to some real sad boi hours. There’s also a devastating moment around halfway (not sure) through with a car accident which makes the whole thing 10x heavier. Despite all this, the book has its sweet moments - parents play a big role, but not in the way they usually do in queer stories - and like I said the ending is the bandage for your broken heart. I’m not sure what it is about the writing style, maybe the way it just cuts between scenes randomly or perhaps the way the dialogue and actions are so realistic, but it’s so different to any other book I’ve read that it’s stayed in my mind for a while after reading it.

10/10 really good philosophy plus supportive parents

5) The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue

Okay if this was a ranked list, this bad boy would be on its way to the top spot. It’s got everything: historical setting, gays, pirates, alchemy, humour, adventure, angst, character development, and some healthy second-hand embarrassment. It’s not complicated or philosophical but reading this book all in one go is like taking five shots and diving into a pool. It’s exciting and witty, but deals with darker themes like child abuse too. One of the MCs also has a disability and doesn’t treat it as something to be cured, which is a lesson our protagonist has to learn. Speaking of protagonists, Henry ‘Monty’ Montague is a great main character. He’s obnoxious, oblivious, and hedonistic yet quick-witted and passionate, and he has a good heart. Sometimes you just want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him for being such an ignorant idiot, but throughout the book he grows and learns to open his mind more (as well as becoming more humble). He’s a great example of a flawed yet likable main character. He is also a bisexual icon.

Oof forgot to even talk about the story. Monty embarks on a tour of Europe, usually taken by lads his age to get all cultured before they settle down and inherit the family company or whatever. With him are his younger sister Felicity, a girl with a brilliant mind for science who isn’t taken seriously by anyone because of her gender, and the lovely Percy, Monty’s lifelong best friend (and crush). Monty ends up stealing a very valuable object that turns the Tour into a manhunt across Europe, and drags the trio into a big ol’ conspiracy involving something that may or may not be the philosopher’s stone????

Issues of race, gender, and disability in historical context are really well done, and it’s an absolute banger of a book.

10/10 very exciting adventure, plus GREAT GAY ROMANCE

6) Heaven Official’s Blessing

HOOOOOO BOY. This is probably my absolute fave on this list. It’s a webnovel (originally Chinese but the full translation is online). Set in ancient china in the cultivation world (difficult as shit to explain if ur not into all of that but I’ll try), basically there’s three realms - the heavenly realm, the human/mortal realm, and the ghostly realm. If a mortal reaches a certain point (good deeds, power etc), they ascend to become a god - or if they fall far enough, they become a ghost. 

I’ll just quote the author’s description again cause I don’t have the brain cells required:

 “Eight hundred years ago, Xie Lian was the Crown Prince of the Xian Le kingdom. He was loved by his citizens and was considered the darling of the world. He ascended to the Heavens at a young age; however, due to unfortunate circumstances, was quickly banished back to the mortal realm. Years later, he ascends again–only to be banished again a few minutes after his ascension. Now, eight hundred years later, Xie Lian ascends to the Heavens for the third time as the laughing stock among all three realms. On his first task as a god thrice ascended, he meets a mysterious demon who rules the ghosts and terrifies the Heavens, yet, unbeknownst to Xie Lian, this demon king has been paying attention to him for a very, very long time.”

It’s hard to describe the enormity of this story and all the emotions it encapsulates, you really have to read it for yourself. But bitch the undying, pure, Hozier-devotion-level LOVE is by far my favourite part of this story. If you’re looking for an epic, god-tier gay romance, then this is it baby!! This story has comedy, action, and downright harrowingly depressing moments, but throughout is this achingly beautiful love between fallen god and last believer.

I don’t wanna give too much away cause there are some big ol’ plot reveals, but oooh this shit made me cry. The protagonist is MY FAVOURITE EVER I didn’t think it was possible to like a protag so much!! He’s legit my fave character! At first he seems oblivious and carefree but he’s just doing his goddamn best after all he’s been through and he’s so fukcing kind and just wants to help everyone for fuckcs sake excuse me I need to go have a breakdown.

Okay I’m back, anyway there’s a great cast of characters, even the background characters are all incredibly memorable and all given their time to shine and develop. My faves include Quan Yizhen, a rowdy himbo who just wants to fight, and Shi Qing Xuan, a friendly genderfluid god who controls the wind. Read this shit I’m not joking it’ll change your life. 

10/10 for everything

[spookymvlders]

NOTE: this thing is under re-construction bc we changed it up!!!!!!!!

Hi welcome to my sloppiest request I hope you enjoy all the fun things I have to offer and let’s just heckin’ get right into it lol!!!!

Do you like Peaky Blinders? Wow cool great because that’s what this request is centred around!!! I’m looking for some family to aid my guy, Misha Vulchanov (Jake G), as he attempts to have the world’s biggest and longest migraine ever!!!! I’m obv loosely basing the family’s dynamic around the Shelbys/Blinders but feel free to just really stretch the fuck out and play in that space ok? Let’s not let our dreams be dreams!!

The rough concept is: They start low. Low low. Let’s say with fucking nothing but a hollow name and the skin on their backs. They don’t come from privilege, they have no prestige. Their parents are deadbeats and their future is grim.

What does this mean? Nowhere to go but up.

They start to build, using the best (only?) tools at their disposal: grit and iron, backbone and brawn, ruthless blunt force, and rough and inelegant—yet potent—magic. There’s no denying their potential, even if it is forged in dirt and oil and blood-red spit. Misha, second eldest of the rowdy bunch. strikes a bargain with the Seven Sisters: proper enforcement, no questions asked; every job done right the first time. And for a time, this works beautifully.

But it isn’t enough.

They’re not here to lie stagnant. This is about upward mobility. This is about the future. This is about the money, the power, the means to protect what’s near and dear. This is about building something great. no matter the cost.

So Misha manages to negotiate a ‘promotion’ of sorts and the family finds themselves branching into distribution, as well.

Unsurprisingly, it’s still not enough.

Which brings us to the present, in which the Vulchanov/as are low key tryna get their hands on EVERYTHING. Maybe it doesn’t look like overturning the sisters. Maybe it’s just using them as a stepping-stone. Maybe it’s something sinister. Maybe it isn’t. Everything is up in the air (esp considering we don’t have any solid Sisters yet but THAT’S OK), but I’m really looking forward to building a nice dramatic plot with whoever’s interested in doing just that!

Ok now into the deets.

And for the record, I’m scrapping what little history is on this family in the HP world because fuck it I’MA DO MY OWN THING. So in this reality, there’s an entirely different Durmstrang founder and no relation whatsoever they’re just on their own doing their thing!!! That said, they all did attend Durmstrang and all that we’re just pulling the aforementioned plug from the mix. You get it. Moving on.

They’re a half-blood family, but all political alliances and beliefs and fcs and shit are open. I think it would be fun to maybe incorporate some other things into their “hobbies” like care of magical creatures or some shit?? Nod 2 the Shelbys and their horses hayyyyy!!! But this is getting so long I’m not gonna fucking get into that now.

Jk one more note: the ages I’m putting are entirely flexible, but I do want the siblings to remain in this order from oldest-youngest. So like as long as John is older then Ada by at least a year etc, it’s all good. Don’t be too hindered by the guidelines I’m setting bc they’re loose and flexible.

So, the roster:

Arthur Shelby / 39+ / Jai Courtney      - yavor vulchanov, taken by abe

Thomas Shelby / 38 / Jake Gyllenhaal      - misha vulchanov, taken by sis

John Shelby / 30+ / Dacre Montgomery      - aleksi vulchanov, taken by georgia

Ada Shelby / 25+ / Weronika Spyrka      - svetlana vulchanova, taken by joey

Finn Shelby / 18+ / Open FC

Polly Gray / 45+ / Open FC

Michael Gray / 25+ / Open FC

Freddie Thorne / 28+ / Open FC

Alfie Solomons / Open Age / Open FC

Any other characters you’d like to bring from the series are very much welcome, too!! I’m just not gonna list them all because no. Anyway!!! Hmu if you’re interested, my discord is sis#9992! Please make them I’d love to have a nice dysfunctional family who lives and dies for each other and I need this deep deep deep in my soul thank you I love you bye.