#so I started experimenting with partitions

[clockswatches]

so this is what I'm doing with my life now

[fairyysoup]

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore. 

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?” 

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with. 

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.” 

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?” 

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.” 

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind. 

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open. 

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it. 

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter. 

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.” 

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look. 

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens. 

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies. 

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again. 

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible. 

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.” 

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?” 

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit. 

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.” 

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head. 

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat. 

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror. 

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it. 

Cocky bastard.  

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?” 

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places. 

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation. 

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.  

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for. 

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time. 

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back. 

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?” 

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?” 

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?” 

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right. 

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander. 

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all. 

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.” 

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.” 

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?” 

“Yeah, not too flashy.” 

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.” 

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up. 

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you. 

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven. 

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room. 

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.” 

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck. 

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh. 

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?” 

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.” 

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you. 

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat. 

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more. 

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather. 

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already. 

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same. 

“Good girl.” 

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume. 

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling. 

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.” 

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours. 

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.” 

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes. 

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs. 

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him. 

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down. 

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.” 

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it. 

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

[onlyswan]

summary: in which leaving the past behind is not as easy as forgetting, and you want to be everything jungkook wants to know.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / wc: 7.9k

playlist: strange by celeste / sinking by clairo / manta rays by chloe moriondo / ceilings by beabadoobee / iris (cover) by phoebe bridgers & maggie rogers

content/warnings: [deep breath] no one will know the violence it took to become this gentle / it’s their first winter as a couple / oc’s ex bf slaps oc / jk beats up the ex / blood and bruises / crying :( / mention of cheating (not in our main’s rs we don’t tolerate that in this household :]) / mention of s*x / jimin as both their older brother and friend :(

in which masterlist!

note: greeting 2024 with angst woopsie… i literally ugly sobbed writing a particular scene T_T… anwww i hope it’s a good read <3 as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! i’d love to hear your thoughtsss 🥺

—

the word VICTORY flashes across the screen.

with a proud smirk adorning his lips, jungkook pushes down his headphones to hang around his neck.

he rises from his seat, resting his crossed arms over the partition dividing the computer that you’re renting from his.

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

he chuckles to himself when he realizes that you didn’t hear him, not with the music blasting from your headphones. you direct your attention upwards when endless song by no reply is abruptly put on pause; the cushions of the headphones are pressed up against your cheek by your boyfriend’s doing.

“what?”

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

“oh, yes…” your focus returns to the screen, fast fingers dancing along the keyboard without an ounce of hesitation weighing on them. “i just… need to… send the file to my email.”

jungkook blinks at the long rows of words you’re masterfully curating, thinking to himself — how the hell do you think and type that fast at the same time?

it was his suggestion to stay at a pc bang tonight so you could be together while you each do your own thing. he spent his half of his day-off playing games, and during that time, you worked on your research paper and finished an essay that isn’t even due for another week. you took a break every hour, munched on some snacks, and cheered him on while he was diligently playing. perhaps he could’ve done something more productive today, but it couldn’t have made him happier.

he holds out the last slice of gimbap in between chopsticks, lightly poking your lips, and his heart flutters when you offer him a sweet smile after welcoming the big bite with some difficulty, cheeks full and nose scrunched.

“is there anything else you want to eat?”

you shake your head, and unable to speak while chewing, you gesture for water as if you’re playing charades.

a kiss is granted to your forehead.

when he comes back with a bottled water, all your tabs have been closed and you’re wearing your white beret again, re-organizing your belongings in your backpack.

“ready to leave?” he inquires as he hands your order.

you hum as a reply, standing from your seat as you swing the backpack over your head to wear it with little to no effort.

jungkook thinks you’re so cool.

you visit the restroom as he settles the bill. when you come out, he’s already pulling out a credit card from his wallet. you decide to head straight for the door then, wait for him outside as the air inside the room has started to feel a little too stuffy after you stepped away from the computer.

you’ve always thought about it— how time stands still when you experience something traumatic, how that moment feels stretched for eternity… how utterly barbaric that is. you’re forced to memorize frames of the origin of your scars, relive it over and over again, eyes closed and open. moments of happiness, on the other hand, are fleeting. they are sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers. getting out of bed is scooping them in your hands and praying that they will hold on to you in the following rotations and revolutions of the earth. they never do.

there he stood at the bottom of the stairs, just as horrified as you.

his face is the last thing you want to see on a winter night.

because you still recall the amalgamation of emotions in his eyes two winters ago. his skin was flushed from the cold, but he turned redder with anger and your stomach coiled in shame.

“juwon?”

the name felt odd in your mouth. it’s like when you eat a food you haven’t had in a long time, and it doesn’t quite taste like you remember it.

and to be honest, you didn’t know what you expected to happen when he carried on to climb the remaining steps that led to you. but it definitely wasn’t… this.

the first hand to carress your bare body, as if it was in disbelief of its existence, and the rings you used to blindly adore— they collide with your cheek with a sound that resonates in your eardrums.

the slap thins out into a ringing noise.

“are you insane?!”

it continues to assault your hearing even as you scream and hit him back.

it ends when someone bumps against your shoulder in a haste, and the next thing you register is juwon lying on the ground with jungkook sitting on top him, balled fist throwing unforgiving punches at your ex-boyfriend’s face. juwon is held hostage by the shock and is unable to reciprocate jungkook’s aggression. he attempts to fight back but your boyfriend dodges easily.

“jungkook! stop, stop, stop!”

you run down the stairs with panic thundering in your chest, nearly in tears as you forcefully grasp at the back of jungkook’s coat to pull him away, but with his strength and the adrenaline flowing through his veins, your efforts prove to be fruitless.

“you fucking bastard! i’m gonna kill you!”

“that’s enough-” you cry out. “please!”

“how dare you lay a hand on my girlfriend like that, huh?!”

he is furious, gripping the collar of juwon’s sweater and slamming him to the ground.

“your girl?” coughing, juwon faces the side to spit out the blood in his mouth, which then shapes into an arrogant smirk. “didn’t you know? ____ was mine first. i was the first!”

the next punch he receives cuts his lower lip open, and a stronger metallic taste assaults his tongue.

“jungkook!”

before jungkook could inflinct more permanent damage, you resort to holding back his arm with both of your hands.

your gazes connect, and your heart drops to your stomach. he is seething with anger. your blood runs cold and a thick haze clouds your thinking. you can’t move your limbs. what do you do? what do you do? what do you do?

“____, let go. i’m not fucking finished with him.”

“please,” you beg, ignorant of the tears that have begun to slide down your cheeks. “that’s enough. look at him!”

“and why should i care?” he spits out as he shrugs you off.

“ah, jungkook! i said that’s enough! why won’t you listen to me?!”

your desperate tantrum falls on deaf ears. you squeeze your eyes shut when he re-assumes his stance, tucks his thumb over his folded fingers, exactly what he taught you about making a proper fist to avoid injuring one’s self when boxing.

“stop it! you’re scaring me!”

that throws a bucket of ice over jungkook’s head. the anger in his eyes is replaced by vacancy, and with that, juwon seizes the opportunity to finally strike him with a jab and escape from underneath him. jungkook finds himself pushed aside on the ground with a throbbing cheek, mostly likely to be noticeably bruised in the next hours.

“love-” you gasp, and you rush over to him but your path gets rudely obstructed by your ex.

“is this the guy you cheated on me with?”

he is extremely near that you can feel him panting on your face. two years later, your stomach coils in disgust. your glare is venomous, and if only looks could kill, if only looks could kill…

“just leave, won’t you? what’s the point of all this?” you roughly push him away with your remaining shred of energy, driven by exhaustion and frustration. “it was so long ago! get a fucking grip!”

he huffs in disbelief as he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth. it also drips from his nose and eyebrow. strange enough, you do not feel guilt nor compassion for this man. not anymore.

“are you seriously crying just because he got punched one time…? isn’t that a little unfair? you loved me too. once.” he snickers, but he is visibly pissed off. he can no longer look at you in the eye. “shit, is he that much of a better fuck than me?”

your skin crawls. bile creeps up your throat. technically speaking, this is the consequence of your own actions, but you can’t help but to be resentful.

“you are…” your voice trembles, but your glare remains unwavering. “still as despicable and shallow as ever… and i don’t regret what i did.”

and it may have been a long time ago, but you still know how to hit him where it hurts the most— his ego.

you purposely bump against his shoulder as you make your way to jungkook, leaving him speechless as he stares at the ground. the night the two of you broke up, you were crying and begging him for forgiveness… what the fuck happened?

“let’s go home.” you demand quietly while refusing to meet jungkook’s stare— a mix of confusion, offense, and rage.

but the thing about juwon? he always needs to have the last word.

“you better keep a close eye. you might think you know ____, but whores never change. especially those who became one so young.”

“dude, how are you still speaking?!”

it’s too late when you realize that jungkook has left your side. he swings at juwon’s face with a force that sends the man stumbling backwards. he completely loses balance then collapses on the ground with a curse that almost misses your ears.

“don’t ever go near ____ again! don’t even think of it! if you show your face to me again, i might really end up fucking killing you. you hear me?!”

—

jungkook doesn’t recall a time when he felt a rage this intense and consuming. witnessing you get slapped, his vision went dark and he was shaking with fury. everything was a blur after that, but he knew one thing: this man violated the most precious person to him, and he won’t allow him to get away with that unscathed.

and that must be why he feels restless until now. neither one of you has dared to utter a word for the past couple of minutes. he can’t see your face as you’re walking ahead of him, leading the way with his wrist in your cold hand. however, he can hear your sniffles, and he can see you wiping your tears dry with the back of your hand. he thought he has experienced heartbreak, but this pain cuts deeper than anything he has ever felt.

“baby, let’s go back.”

he breaks the silence, standing infront of you to stop you on your tracks. he almost reeks of desperation as he intertwines your fingers together.

“please? there should be a cctv camera infront. we can sue him.”

“are you even hearing yourself? you’ll also get into trouble!”

his insistence only fuels the urge to cry and scream and break things. it’s an understatement to say that you’re ashamed. it was foolish of you, really, to assume that leaving the past behind would be as easy as forgetting. it may be out of sight but it is everywhere, and it sneaks up on you without tell and mercy.

“you attacked him out of nowhere! he can sue you for that too!”

“out of nowhere?” he repeats your words slowly, hurt flashing across his face. “i was protecting you, ____! who knows what else he could’ve done? and the shit he was talking about you? was i just supposed to stand there and do nothing?”

“and i’m protecting you too! why did you even have to punch him again?! he was obviously just trying to provoke you! god, i-” you release the air in your lungs you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. “thank god he didn’t see your face.”

that struck a nerve for some reason. he harshly rips off the mask that has been concealing half of his face all along.

“he hit you! look- fuck, you’re bleeding-”

oh, his rings must’ve grazed you.

jungkook brings out a clean white handkerchief from the backpocket of his pants, pressing it softly against your cheek. the sharp sting forces you to grit your teeth. it’s not only the wound… your skin is still warm and tender from the assault. you’re terrified to look at the mirror. you don’t want to feel sorry for yourself.

“and that’s what you’re really worried about right now?”

“okay, then i’m sorry for caring about my boyfriend and his career! i’m sorry, okay?!“

he dies a little inside when you harshly push his hand aside.

so this is what it feels like to be at the other end of your anger… shitty. it feels really shitty. after what happened, there is no sadness or fear. the twinkle in your eyes have been replaced with sharp daggers and it is gutwrenching to watch. it clicks for him then: you weren’t scared of him. you were scared for him.

he doesn’t allow you to go further than ten feet away. he seizes your arm before sneaking his hand on your waist to tug you closer to his body.

“you think i’m letting you out of my sight again? it’s not happening!”

you click your tongue in exasperation, left with no choice but to admit defeat as he hails the approaching taxi. you cover your face to hide from the blinding headlights.

ever the gentleman, jungkook opens the door for you.

“get in, ____.”

and the first thought that enters your mind: the air freshener is nauseating. it has to be something mixed with lemon.

you roll the window down as your boyfriend dictates the address of your destination to the taxi driver. not yours, but his. you send him an unimpressed scowl, but he only looks back at you challengingly under the warm dim light. the soft cloth is placed over your wound again, rudely snatched as you turn away from him. you hold it on your own as you watch the world outside the window, streetlamps with blurry light streaks and homes you will never set foot into. in the midst of your musing, you register the weight on your head, or its lack thereof. your beret landed on the ground in the aftermath of the first strike. what is there left to lose?

you thought you could be happy at last, but beside you is another soul you’ve stained with your bloody hands.

juwon was right, you never change.

—

“i still don’t think it’s right that i know the password.” you whisper as you push the door open.

“but i have a key to your house. what’s the difference?”

“i don’t know…” you begin removing your boots, carefully placing each one in the middle level of the shoe rack. “you live with six other people.”

“namjoon-hyung and yoongi-hyung are in their studios. the others went home.”

you enter the living room with jungkook hugging you from behind. his cheek rests on top of your shoulder, and he doesn’t want to let you go. the ride here was suffocating. he thought you wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the night anymore.

you blink at jimin who is sprawled out on the sofa, a gray blanket that matches his sweatpants is covering his naked torso.

“why does he sleep here? doesn’t he have a bed?”

“the sofa is more comfortable.” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear as he opens his eyes halfway, but then he gives up and closes them again, curling in on himself to resume his slumber.

“okay… now i know what to get you for your birthday.”

for a brief second jungkook assumes that you’re joking, but you sounded way too nonchalant.

“a sofa?”

“a new mattress,” you blankly stare back at him, before proceeding to break free from his embrace to search for the bathroom.

he follows you like a lost puppy, whining. “why does he already have a birthday gift and i don’t?!”

“quiet!”

he winces. “sorry, hyung!”

—

you’re perched in the space between jungkook’s thighs, legs swung over one of them as he tenderly presses a cold compress against your left cheek. you’ve changed into the pair of pink cooky pajamas he wore a few times and has kept in his closet specially for you. sinking into his mattress, drowsiness has also begun to seep into the depths of your bones. it’s been an arduous week, and you’re exhausted of fighting in every sense of the word.

“he deserves more than what he got away with.” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“jungkook, enough.” you chide at him with a sigh. “let’s just forget about this.”

“your face is going to be bruised for atleast a week! how am i supposed to ‘just forget’? are you hearing yourself?”

your rhetoric question from earlier comes back to gnaw at your thread-like sanity. you feel backed into a corner. you can’t think of a solution that will put this issue at rest, much less make either one of you feel better.

“he’s not worth it.”

“you are to me.” he declares.

it’s impossible to argue with that. you want it to stay true. you want him to keep believing in you.

“i’m tired.” you whisper, removing yourself from his lap. “let’s go to sleep.”

he gazes at you with longing.

you are lying on his bed but you have never felt so far away.

“are we really not going to talk about this?”

“not now. i’m tired, jungkook.”

“baby…”

“juwon is a terrible person, but i had it coming…” you mumble. “that’s all there is to it.”

foreboding silence falls upon the bedroom. you can’t bring yourself to look at jungkook, so you close your eyes and pray that when the sun rises, this night will simply turn out to be a nightmare orchestrated by your wicked mind.

“whatever that is, it doesn’t warrant what he did.” he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart into a thousand shards. “and i’m sorry that i couldn’t stop it from happening.”

—

jungkook returns after his shower, not yet done with drying his dripping hair with a towel. you’ve drifted off to sleep in the time that he was gone, lips slightly parted open as you breathe out puffs of air in a steady rhythm. your hair is a halo and you’re an angel snoozing on a cloud.

he heard it loud and clear, and you haven’t denied it either, but there’s not a part of him that believes it. is he blindly in love with you? is this what he was warning him about? are you not an angel, but a siren?

wary of waking you up, he attaches a bandaid to your cheek. he flicks the lightswitch but he turns on the night lamp so you won’t have to manuever the dark incase you wake up in the middle of the night in need of the bathroom.

shit, shit, shit. he curses in his head when you begin shuffling as soon as he settles himself on the bed, but it’s just you unknowingly seeking for warmth in your sleep. he gathers you in his arms and your pillow is abandoned in favor of his naked chest. it always feels fitting, like his heart is the stuffed toy that you can’t go without at night.

he swallows the lump in his throat, brushing your hair away from your face to gently caress your soft skin. you look so serene. but your ex’s fingers can be traced on the red bruise that has tainted your cheek and his jaw clenches, hand momentarily balling into a fist to release the leftover anger still boiling in his blood. everyday, you feel the need to act tough because of people like him, and you are… but deep down, he knows, that you just crave to be loved.

“you loved me too. once.”

however, that has lost its meaning when juwon didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved.

and jungkook admits it’s not as easy for him to do in a whole different dimension. he leads a kind of life not everyone survives, but that never stopped him for trying his damn hardest.

—

you’re awoken in the middle of the night by jungkook’s forehead accidentally knocking against yours. his snoring doesn’t cease, however, and you had to remind yourself that this is the same boy who continued sleeping despite rolling off his inflated sleeping bag on camera.

you slowly sit up as you rub the sleep from your eyes. you spend an unknown amount of time spaced out, barely blinking. afterwards, you force yourself to leave the comfort of the bed, taking the cold compress along with you. you drain the melted ice over the kitchen sink before opening the refrigerator to refill it with ice cubes. you can’t help but to allow your eyes to wander around, which then leads you to contemplate on whether to cook ramen or not… but then again, it’s already 3am and most likely, you won’t be able to sleep again if you do.

“yah! why are doing just standing there?”

the deep voice echoes throughout the kitchen. you yelp in shock, nearly dropping the ice bag as you tap on your pounding chest.

“i told you to stop doing that!”

jimin bursts into a fit of too delighted giggles, hunched over the kitchen counter as he places a hand over his belly. he’s fully clothed this time, fresh from the shower, judging from his hair.

“it’s not funny!” you whine. “one of these days i might be holding a knife when you do that!”

“ey, what would you be holding a knife for? jungkook never lets you lift a finger while you’re here.”

that’s just because he knows you’re not very talented in the kitchen.

the wide smile on his face then fades, expression morphing into one of concern as he studies your face bathed by the refrigerator light.

“what happened to your face?”

fuck, you’ve completely forgotten about that.

“it’s a long story.” you sigh, closing the refrigerator.

“it’s alright. i have all the time in the world to listen.”

“you know that i really appreciate that and i’m grateful but…” your smile borders on a wince. “no, you don’t. get some more sleep, please.”

your unexpected response causes jimin to scratch his head shyly. the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds before laughing at the same time.

“oh, that’s right!” you pause on your tracks when an essential item pops in your mind. “do you have healing ointment? for cuts and bruises and stuff?”

“it’s for jungkook,” you add.

“doesn’t he have that?”

“it’s not here,”

your sweet smile tells jimin everything he needs to know.

“ah, that kid really comes home to different houses now. he’s all grown up.”

“…and how many exactly?” you arch an eyebrow.

he purses his lips together, jokingly pretending to think hard. “the dorm… and then his family… then there’s you?”

“anywhere else?”

“nope!”

“sooo, do you have it or not?”

“i’ll go downstairs and buy it right now.”

he offers you a kind smile and pats on the head. a protest dies down in your throat as he goes straight for the front door.

“thank you!”

“you’re welcome!”

—

despite your active efforts to avoid making any sort of noise, the door produces a small ‘click’ as you cautiously close it behind you. you discover that jungkook has flipped over to face your side, his arm outstretched as if he was reaching out for you. you almost feel bad for leaving him alone in bed, so you sit next to him, positioned on the lower half of the bed since he took up your space.

a short snore escapes him, one that rises then falls so abruptly, like a note on the piano pressed on accident. you cover your mouth to muffle your giggle.

how adorable. you have grown to tolerate, and even adore, his snoring.

stolen kisses on his bruised knuckles, tiny and featherlight, apologetic most of all. their bad condition brought upon by boxing worsened when he used his dominant hand bare, knuckles of his two longest fingers ripped. it seems that he did the bare minimum by putting a stop to the bleeding then washing them clean, then nothing else. he didn’t even tell you, didn’t complain or show any sign that he was in pain.

you hold the cold compress over his bruises, switching between his cheek and knuckles, mindful of not touching the wounds as to not aggravate him in his sleep.

you’ve been stripped down bare— your pride and dignity dismantled into pieces that create a picture of you that you do not like… but could be the love and sincerity in your heart be enough to live by? even if no one is awake to witness it?

you’re saved from drowning in your thoughts by the front door being unlocked. for the second time, you tiptoe your way out of jungkook’s bedroom.

“this is for wounds, and then…” jimin returns the tube inside the paper bag to grab the other. “this one, for bruises.”

“thank you. i’ll pay you back.”

“yah!” jimin expands his eyes threateningly, which you mimic in challenge as you hug the paper bag to your chest. “i’m also your older brother, okay? i should do these things for you.”

you scrunch your nose, to express disagreement at first, but later on it only makes your smile appear brighter.

“doesn’t it hurt you to smile? please use them well too, ____. do you understand? that’s why i bought the biggest ones!”

it does hurt.

“thank you…” you reply shyly.

you’ve forgotten how it feels like to be taken care of by family.

—

“baby, where did you go?”

jungkook’s raspy voice is music to your ears.

he woke up a mere minute ago, caught in the middle of sitting up on the bed once it caught up to his sleep-muddled brain that you’re no longer beside him.

“nowhere,”

you sit at the edge of the bed without another word, putting his hands over your lap to apply the healing cream to his afflictions.

his eyelids flutter in sleepiness as he watches your every movement.

a small dollop at the pad of your finger, transferred over his torn knuckle and smeared with the lightest of touch. occasionally your finger pauses, unsure, calculating— the last thing it wants is to hurt him.

he kisses your lips— he feels suspended in time—hasn’t quite reconnected with reality and with his body. wide-eyed, you seem taken aback by the display of affection. his mouth then softly curves with fondness.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” you whisper timidly.

your actions have become hurried, but jungkook is far too drowsy to notice your discomfort.

for the final part, you rub the cream on the bruise on his cheek. you press a kiss on the corner of his lips. “all done. go back to sleep.”

“let’s go,”

he hooks his arm under your knees, eager to carry you over to your side of the bed, but he gets interrupted by your protest.

“wait, wait, wait- i need to pee first.”

“wha- hurry!” he complains with a peeved frown, which you fail to catch a glimpse of because he has squeezed you taut against his body. “i won’t be able to sleep without you here.”

—

eternally cursed with the ability to feel too much of everything.

you push your back against the bathroom door, breathing heavy and labored as you blindly pat around for its lock. the click serves as the cue for your salty tears to drip from the edges of your eyelashes, cascading down, down, down your chin. some of them crash on the collar of your pajama top, the rest on the white tiled floor. this room is a stranger to your shipwreck, but old habits die hard.

the intense pressure of the water collides with the porcelain sink. rain and thunder and the gusts of wind being your gasps for air. an isolated storm undetected in the city of seoul you’re forced to brave alone, on the floor, tucked into yourself to protect the beating sacredness inside your ribcage. the sobs claw their way up your throat rather than soaring like exhales do.

no one has ever raised their hand at you. not even your parents. not even when you broke your grandmother’s precious china, or lost their big paper bills to the wind, or cursed at them for embarrassing you infront of your friends.

you want to be mad and say that juwon deserved what he got. you want to say that you hope his nose is broken. but you don’t know how one is supposed to react when something like that happens. you don’t know if it justifies everything after that. if the roles were reversed and you slapped him, won’t no one bat an eye?

…and you know jungkook has questions you still haven’t figured out how to answer. you know he now has reasons to doubt you. you know in his eyes, you may now be a hypocrite and not the advocate he adored. these days, you don’t really want to be seen as anything less or more than who you are, but you so desperately wish to be someone he is proud to love.

you feel mocked for even daring to dream of it.

“i’m tired, i’m tired, i’m tired.”

incoherent mumbles further stirs the unbridled chaos.

“i’m so sick of this. why… why do bad things keep happening to me?”

you don’t expect an answer but you yearn for some sort of meaning. you don’t mind suffering but you wish it could only be to an extent where you don’t have to fear.

echoes of rumbles and thunder. you’re nearer the sky but farther from heaven.

—

it’s been more than a week. you’ve been waking up with a gaping hole in the middle of your torso. you climb out of bed, cover up your cheek with make-up, good as new, and go about your day as if nothing happened. life on its own is already too much of a burden for you.

jungkook checks up on you everyday, though, despite his busy schedule. mostly through the phone, and whenever he can, he goes straight to where you are after work to dote on you no matter the time. he kisses you on the cheek, claims himself to have healing properties, and says i love you. and during those periods of time you were together, he hasn’t said another word about the incident. and it has been driving you absolutely insane.

you glance down at him, sat on the floor with an ipad balanced on top of his propped up knees, wearing one of your anti-radiation glasses as he finds himself absorbed in drawing the view a foot away from him. you.

“why do you keep looking at me?” he scolds you lightheartedly. “go back to studying so we can go to sleep.”

“can’t help it,” you mumble as you reposition your pen over the paper. you’ve been reorganizing your notes the whole night for your upcoming tests, but your mind keeps flying everywhere else. “my boyfriend’s too pretty.”

“ah, it can’t be helped then. sorry about that.” he smirks cockily, pulling the dramatics by switching his eyes between you and his back. “should… should i turn around then?”

“did you box again?”

the accusation is spat out before you can think twice.

“oh, you did. your knuckles are all messed up again.”

he pouts, crossing his legs. “but baby, i have to train... i wrapped my hands properly!”

“still,” you sigh. “can’t you just let them heal for a little while?”

you turn to the cabinet on your other side to bring out the pouch of healing ointments you’re now suspecting he brought and didn’t accidentally leave behind.

you lay out your hand, and jungkook puts his on top of yours, dragging himself close.

you both smile when you see that he has laid his hands over your thighs like he’s getting a manicure. silly boy. you pull them closer by his fingers so you can reach his red knuckles.

“why are you trying so hard?”

your finger is stained with his blood. your voice is as gentle as your touches, and that’s why it hurts.

jungkook doesn’t know either. he’s been trying to extinguish his leftover anger and bitterness through work and boxing— suppressing the onslaught of negative thoughts threatening to poison what the two of you have. jungkook doesn’t want to know. he doesn’t want anything to change. right now, he can’t afford them to.

“there’s no one to fight.”

“turns out there is,” he argues.

he regrets it as soon as your hand trembles.

“it’s okay… to ask. we’re in a relationship. you’re entitled to know things like that.” your eyes are unafraid again, and it scares him, like you’re always prepared to let him go. “i won’t get offended, or anything like that. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“i trust you,” he says simply. “so i don’t need to know. especially if talking about it makes you uncomfortable. it’s okay… we’re okay, baby.”

stillness washes over the room like a tide that swallows everything up, and for a moment jungkook is convinced that the two of you will never bring it up again.

but the words you utter next are a punch to the gut.

they almost sound like a plead.

“but i can’t live my life that way, jungkook.”

strands of your hair descend to your face, framing it perfectly, but your eyes become hidden from view. you rip a bandaid open and blanket it over his two knuckles, still wounded as before, if not worse.

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know…” because there will be things i’d want to tell you, but wouldn’t feel the need to.

“then tell me,” he replies, prompted by a renewed determination. “i don’t just intend to be with you for a long time. i want way more than that.”

—

jungkook fiddles with the hello kitty bandaid using his thumb, mind reeling and grappling to process the overload of information told by your storytelling voice. all of a sudden, he’s grateful that you decided to lie down on the bed for this conversation.

“juwon was your boyfriend before me, no?”

“no, no, no. he was…” your lips part as if you have something more left to say, but you eventually give up. “yup, no.”

“so you found out that he’s been cheating on you for-for two mo-”

“three-”

“three months, and you…” he blinks. “slept with a stranger and let him catch you?”

“i was really petty. i was seventeen after all… my pride couldn’t take it. my friends- they tried to stop me but… but all i could think of was how to make him feel the way i was feeling.” your voice sounds small, smaller as you squeeze yourself into his side and curl up to hide your face. “so i let him think i was the bad guy.”

he understands that you were vengeful, but he doesn’t know if you comprehend the scale of what you have done.

“he looked so sad and hurt that i started to feel guilty. i don’t know if i was still acting when i was apologizing to him.” you scoff with eyebrows knitted together. “i felt so dirty… i still feel like a bad person, you know?”

you took the face of juwon’s demons and he didn’t like what he saw.

“i had it coming,” — he now has a grasp of what you meant before.

“so how has he been doing this to me for such a long time? how does he stomach it? knowing what i was going through? that’s what i thought… it makes me so upset…”

jungkook doesn’t try to assess you as you speak. he only listens, until your voice cracks. his heart is split into two as tears flood your eyes, escaping past the corners and slipping down to soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

you sniffle. “and the sex wasn’t even that great. i regret it even more.”

he flinches, abruptly squeezing his eyes shut. not that great? okay… okay. the mental image of you being physically intimate with someone that isn’t him definitely doesn’t sicken him to his core. at all. nope, nope, nope.

“fuck, baby, please,” he groans as if he is in pain, putting an arm over his eyes. “hearing about you have sex with other guys is making me want to punch something again. fuck.”

“that’s what you took away from the story?”

“yes!” he exclaims with conviction. “we should’ve met a year earlier. i would’ve let you use me!”

you gasp, scandalized. “oh my god! jungkook!”

“argh-” he animatedly clutches at his chest that caught your fist.

“you’re crazy!”

“uhuh, about you.” he proudly replies, pulling you closer to his side, as if that was still possible.

the subtle upwards of the corners of your lips gives him a sense of relief. he tenderly cups your cheek, his thumb ghosting over the bruise that has turned a darker shade of blue and purple.

“listen to me, i- i’m not here to tell you what’s right or wrong. i’m not that type of person. but what i can do tell you is that this…” he briefly shakes his head. “didn’t change the way i see you at all. he hurt you. he cheated and you were hurt, ____.”

your eyes gleam with uncertainty, a fresh wave of tears threatening to escape. “are you sure?”

“of course i am. why wouldn’t i be sure?”

“because you’re crazy about me.”

the sweet innocence of your eyelashes fluttering elicits a chuckle from him. you’re so fucking cute.

“that’s the reason i’m sure.” he tilts up your chin to plant a kiss to your lips, mumbling. “i’ve never been wrong about anything i’m crazy about.”

“thank you,” you say quietly, melting into his embrace. you nuzzle your face against his chest, and at last, you grant your eyes rest. “i can finally sleep peacefully again.”

fuck, it’s been weighing on you this whole time and he didn’t know.

“i’m sorry i only dated assholes before you.”

“aish, why would you be sorry about such a thing?” he kisses the top of your head, gentleness contradicting his following sentence. “i’d crush each one of those assholes for you.”

and he’d beat himself up the worst if he ever becomes one of them.

you yawn, sniffling right after. “mhm, i bet you will.”

he carefully rolls over to the side so he can wrap both arms around you, and you keen in contentment.

“jungkook?”

“yes, baby?” he coos.

“i… really… love you so, so, so much. you are… the one person i’d die for before i hurt.”

goddammit, it’s an angel sleeping in his arms.

“that’s a relief to hear. you’re very smart and scary when you’re mad.”

“eh, jungkook! i swear i’ve grown up! i’m not like that anymore!”

“okay, okay!” he laughs at your childish whining and squirming as he ushers you back in his embrace. “i believe you! i trust you! i love you too!”

—

although you spend more nights together in your apartment for your safety and convenience, in all honesty, you like staying over at jungkook’s more. his smell evokes the sentiment of home, and when you stay long enough, it becomes a temporary part of you. you’re gradually more well-versed in the organized and unorganized corners of his room. you like that you know where he keeps the safety pins and you know to be careful when walking so you won’t trip over his dumbbells he leaves lying around. and it’s a little ridiculous but… you like that his mattress is on the floor and you don’t really know why.

your boyfriend is still blissfully asleep as you climb over him, landing on the floor without a sound like a veteran spy. however, you rush to step out of the room before the rumbling of your empty stomach could wake him up.

“yah, thief! what do you think you’re doing?!”

“fuck!” the pack of ramen hits the floor when your hands fly to your chest to clutch at your painfully pounding heart. “i swear to god, you’re going to kill me one day!”

and unsurprisingly, your chagrin is countered yet again with jimin’s all too pleased laughter.

“____, you look so suspicious! why are you using a flashlight? we have electricity! we can pay for it!”

“i don’t like it too bright, okay?” you grumble as you pick up your supposed midnight meal.

“let’s just turn on this one then.”

“uh-” the objection dies down in your throat when the light over the dining table was switched on.

“i’m hungry, too. grab two more packs of ramyeon, please.”

“who’s the other one for?”

jimin fills the pot with water from the sink while you pick up two more of the same pack from the pantry.

“just us. don’t you agree that one pack is too small for one person?”

“it’s just enough for me though?” you rip open the packs one by one to retrieve the packets of seasonings. “with your job, though, i’d definitely have a bigger appetite.”

“alright,” he pouts, pretending to be upset. “let’s have just two then.”

“no, no, no-” you chase his hand, tightly gripping the last pack that he stole. “let’s have three! let’s have three! i didn’t eat dinner!”

—

“my mom brought a lot of kimchi yesterday. there’s an entire box in the fridge. i’ll pack you some before you leave later.”

“put some more in,” you say cutely as you peer down at the pot of ramen beside jimin. “please?”

he chuckles, adhering to your request before handing the container to you.

“thank you!”

you hop on the counter infront of the stove, chewing on a mouthful of kimchi with a joy akin to a child receiving a sweet treat. leaving the ramen to cook for the next five minutes, jimin sits a few feet away.

“aigoo, are you that hungry?”

“this is so delicious!” you praise his mother’s cooking instead of answering the question. “i can really eat this on its own.”

“ey, don’t fill yourself up yet! we have a lot of ramyeon to eat!”

“sorry, sorry!”

your giggles fill the apartment with warmth during this freezing winter. jimin didn’t doubt it when jungkook said that you light up every room you enter, he just didn’t expect that he would also gain a friend.

“how’s your cheek?”

“as you can see,” you motion at your face. “yellow. soooo… uglier.”

“that means it’s healing well.”

“i know,” the apples of your cheek become plump as your lips curve. “it no longer hurts to smile.”

“that’s a relief to hear,” he returns your kind smile. “jungkook has been worried about you.”

that’s the end of what he can tell you. jungkook won’t be pleased if you learn that he cried when he talked about the horrible thing that happened to you.

“thank you,”

“huh? for what?”

“being jungkook’s happiness.”

from his peripheral vision, he perceives your surprise. however, he is too flustered to meet your eyes while he is speaking from the bottom of his heart.

“the past year was physically and mentally draining for the team. as you know, we… we were considering giving up and disbanding. and of course it’s hard on all of us, but i’m really, really worried about jungkook. but!”

he chuckles at the dramatic rise of his own voice.

“i’m less worried now that you’re in his life. and i’m not saying this to put pressure on you or anything! but you see, when he’s tired, he bounces back quickly because of you. he’s smiling more because of you. and i know it goes it also goes the other way around. mhmm… i-i guess what i’m saying is that i hope you can continue being each other’s strength? be each other’s cheerleader?”

you have begun to feel emotional as you listened to his sincere and heartwarming words, but you can’t help but to cackle at the fact that you just witnessed the park jimin say the word ‘cheerleader’ while daintily waving his hands around as they were holding pompoms. how awfully endearing.

“…or something like that.”

uncontrollable giggles vibrate his body, dramatically slipping down the counter and onto the tiled floor to enshroud himself in extreme sheepishness.

“ah, ____! this is driving me crazy! don’t laugh!”

“what are you doing lying on the floor?” you playfully scold him, recording with your phone in secret. “why do i suddenly feel like the older one?”

“what’s with the noise?”

you whip your head around, wide curious eyes greeted with a shirtless jungkook who is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“is that ramyeon…? i want some too.”

jimin groans when he feels your foot poke him lightly.

“mister, can we add more? my googie is hungry too.”

—

“hyung, ____ told me something recently that really put a lot of things into perspective.”

and with that, jimin pours another bottle of beer in his and jungkook’s ice-filled mugs. “let me hear it.”

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know. at first i didn’t understand what it meant? then after we talked, something clicked for me. ahhh, i see it now. ____ didn’t want us to trust each other blindly… because that… that isn’t a good… foundation? for something that i want to last for a very long time. you, me, the members… don’t we all trust each other because we know that we’re good people to our core and we’re good at what we do? isn’t that why we have come this far, and why we keep going? besides army, of course!”

jimin blinks lazily, glossy eyes from the alcohol underneath it all. “that’s right. we wouldn’t have started this anyway… without that kind of trust. i don’t think it’s a connection you can just build with anyone too.”

“oh, that’s it. that’s right!”

“living together for a long time doesn’t guarantee it.”

“exactly.” jungkook nods repeatedly, probably too passionately, a guaranteed ticket for a hangover later on. “we talked about that last time too.”

“right? so we should protect it… maintain it… never lose sight of our purpose…”

the lack of words that follow does not equate to silence. glasses clink against each other and teeth rip bags of chips open and noodles are slurped. they’re overseas and they can’t go to a korean restaurant and grill their own meat. the hotel steak would take forever to arrive and quite frankly, they had it yesterday and it was not good. this is not exactly ideal, but it has its own charm.

jungkook takes another swig of the bittersweet alcohol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards.

“____ has become an important part of my life that i would do anything to protect too. how do i say it…?” he exhales to relieve the heavy weight on his chest. “i feel like i gained more purpose in life, hyung… to be honest, i might have a harder time because of that. i know it but… i’m happy. seriously, i’m happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[moviestarmartini]

carseat backseat. — jude bellingham x reader x brahim díaz.

pairing: jude bellingham x latina!reader x brahim díaz.

summary: your girls' night out soon turned into a party of one. good news though, the two men over at the private booth were looking for the perfect opportunity to approach you. and they're looking to get out of that club fast.

wc: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw (+18 mdni), mentions and consumption of alcohol, basic sentences in spanish (as per usual on this blog tbh), PERREO !!!! , car sex (i'm romanticizing it tbh), soft doms!jude & brahim, marking, praise, light degrading, oral sex (f & m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (twice rip), needy mfs, use of petnames, light manhandling, strangers hooking up tbh. if i missed anything lmk.

A/N: this was wild to write which is why i think it took me so long to finish !!! i mentioned it previously but i lowk picture them in a tuned chevy tahoe and not a limo but that might be irrelevant. reblogs & feedback are always appreciated babes xx enjoy

now playing . . . chulo pt.2 by bad gyal, tokischa & young miko / partition by beyoncé

Betrayed. 

You were currently feeling betrayed. Your girlfriends all abandoned you, with cheap excuses or promising hookups that surged throughout the night. You could’ve been on your way to get down and busy too, but you had standards. You sat at the bar, thinking what you should order before a margarita came your way. You curled up a brow at the bartender, who just replied: “The young men by that booth noticed you like tequila.” 

You frowned at the plural, taking a short sip of the peculiar-shaped glass before looking around. At a private booth full of couples making out and grinding on each other, you could easily recognize two pairs of eyes looking right back at you. With a confident smile, you raise your glass towards them before taking another sip, thinking that would be the end of it. 

You hummed in approval at both the taste of the tequila-based drink and the music the DJ was playing, before feeling a presence standing next to you. It was the shortest of the men who had bought you a drink, with light stubble that covered up his jaw and upper lip area. “¿Qué tal, bonita? ¿Te gustó el trago?” He was dangerously close, but you didn’t find the closeness uncomfortable. 

“How did you know I liked tequila?” You laughed, throwing your hair back. Brahim joined in, and he couldn’t ignore the way your face lightened up. His lips parted in amusement, watching your every move. The way you crossed your thighs, and how badly he wanted to pry them open. 

“How wouldn’t someone like you have my attention all night?” Brahim’s voice came as something similar to a coo, reaching forward to tuck a strand behind your ear. Suddenly, you felt your whole face heating up. “I’m Brahim, a pleasure.” You introduced yourself in the same fashion, not long after perking up at the song that started playing, its opening letters sparking interest. “Lovely to meet you, ¿Vamos?” He pointed to the packed dance floor with his head, offering you his hand. 

Taking down the rest or the drink you hopped off the bar stool, taking his hand gladly and into the dance floor. From your experience with Europeans, they were not the most dexterous dancers, standing still and looking up at the ceiling with their hands on your hips. The man only saved himself by the fact you loved the song and he bought you a drink, the least you owed him was a dance. 

But oh you were so wrong. 

Brahim gripped his hands on the soft skin of your hips, every once in a while controlling the circular motions you produced, while also grinding back against your ass. It only motivated you further, hearing him curse under his breath. “Joder… qué perreo el tuyo, princesa.” You chuckled a little at his reaction, biting on your bottom lip. The tension only grew when he spun you around, dancing face to face, your nose brushing against his. 

Before you could take the dip and cut the distance— his cologne had been clouding your senses, mind fuzzy with the growing sexual tension— he twirled you around yet again, your eyes landing directly on a chest. You tilted your head up to meet the eyes of the man she identified sitting next to Brahim earlier. 

“Fancy sharing her, bro?” He addressed Brahim, but his eyes didn’t tear away from yours. “All ours, Jude.” You heard the other reply as he inched closer. The words echoed in your mind, goosebumps forming up your arms. The man you now knew as Jude took both your hands, pulling them upwards and to rest around his neck as he joined the two of you dancing. 

The tension between the three of you was something you’ve never felt before, Brahim’s nose brushing against your neck and the way Jude stared you down made your knees weak. But the song came to an end, the DJ transitioning to a whole different genre. But that didn’t stop Jude from closing the distance and kissing you, your eyes falling shut instantly. A gasp left your lips the minute you felt another pair on your neck, leaving slow pecks.  

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Jude proposed, his lips still grazing yours. You nodded, and Brahim scooped your hand in his as he practically dragged you away from the dancing bodies, and Jude followed suit with your hands linked together. 

The flashing lights drowned the ambiance, and as you thought of the situation and what could be ahead, you smiled to yourself. If patience was the road to wisdom, you sure felt ninety years older. Maybe your friends jumping off the boat was a blessing in disguise— you deduced as you exited the club through the back. You squinted a little, your eyes already used to the strobe lighting of the club. 

Click. 

Jude stepped in front of you, covering his mouth to speak as a black large car rolled up. “Cover your face for me, baby.” He advised as Brahim opened the door for you, hopping in behind you, Jude looking at the source of the camera with a straight face before sliding inside the car. He gave instructions to the driver, giving him a large bill to… mind his own business apparently, as a partition was rolled up.

“You owe me a kiss,” Brahim complained after not even two seconds of silence, brushing his nose against your cheek. You couldn’t help but giggle as he roughly drew you into his lap, taking your lips hostage in his. While Jude’s affections earlier were soft and careful, Brahim seemed eager; but it still wasn’t his hand grazing the skin of your inner thigh, making your legs part open. Your mini skirt rode up, and you noticed how Brahim pulled it even further to rest at your lower waist. A hum of approval rang through the moving vehicle, and as Jude’s hand inched closer to your core, you shivered.

Brahim groaned at the sudden movement, parting ways with your lips to settle down your neck, Jude taking the same initiative. You moaned softly, jerking your hips. Him, in response, bit into your neck, his fingers delving into the soft skin of your hips. Getting that much attention was overwhelming, and you fell drunk on it. They really worshiped you, lips slowly making their way down, the moans rewarding the men for their good work. 

Jude parted first, his finger grazing the soft fabric of your underwear. “We’ve got you so wet,” He cooed, taking your cheeks and turning your head to look at him. He dissected your reaction as his hand just shoved the panties to a side and he took a dip to test your wetness. A light smirk tugged on his face as he watched your lips part in a tiny gasp. 

“Turn her a bit towards me, mate.” Jude instructed Brahim, who was busy painting hematomas on your neck. He nodded with the same devilish shine on his eyes, shifting a little so you would both face him. “What do you want, babe? You look a bit bothered,” He freighted innocence, a chuckle rung from behind you. 

You became even more embarrassed; how easy your body queues were to them. “Touch me,” You replied with a certain fortitude in your voice, when your eyes were dripping with need. Brahim watched you, lips slightly parted, and just smiled. He gave Jude a nod, who didn’t waste any time in sinking a finger into your wetness. You couldn’t help but throw your head back with a groan, finding rest in Brahim’s shoulder. 

Jude didn’t find any pleasure in easing it into you, fixing a steady pace that would have you writhing in no time. You noticed Brahim getting harder under your ass, the movements clearly getting him off. He still didn’t budge, instead hooking a finger on the strap of your blouse and tugging it off the way slowly before kissing the area. 

Your moans were breathy, as if you were a fish out of water, your hand reaching back to brush Brahim’s hair out of the way, his light beard tickling the back of your shoulder. You could also feel his hand sliding down your torso, his ring and middle finger soon finding a home at your throbbing clit. You noticed through almost closed eyes that Jude licked his lips and slid another digit in, picking up the pace. 

“You like that, princesa? Wanna cum?” Brahim brushed your hair back. You did your best to affirm between babbles, but the built up was rapid and dangerous. “You can do it, you’re so good for us.” Jude confirmed with praise, and you couldn’t have stopped the orgasm even if you wanted to. Your moans filled up the space, legs trembling as they both slowed down and worked you through it. 

Jude took his fingers out and started licking them, never breaking eye contact. Instead, he reached out to pull you into a kiss. His hand cupped your jaw with ease, as you sloppily made out. You could taste yourself in his tongue, “What a pretty mess we have here.” He stroked your cheekbone as the car came to a halt. The driver simply left the vehicle and both men checked through the tinted foggy windows their surroundings. They were at the hotel they requested, at the underground parking level that looked as though no one had been there in years. 

Perfect. 

You came to the same conclusion they did, now pulling Jude back into a kiss, your hands unbuttoning his shirt. But at the same time you reached back and pulled Brahim closer to do the same, with a bit of his help. Jude watched as you cupped his boner through the dress pants, letting a small surprised groan. He’d been so busy pleasuring you he didn’t realize how needy he was himself. 

“I want to taste you.” Brahim whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. Trying to think of an arrangement, an idea quickly rose to your head before it was occupied with the toned bodies of the shirtless men on either side of you. “You will, I promise,” You gave him a peck before giving your attention back to Jude, kissing down his torso as you got on your knees still on the car seat. 

You heard Brahim sigh as you unbuttoned the other’s pants, Jude himself helping you lower his underwear to give his hard cock some space to breathe. You didn’t waste any time, licking the pre-cum that rolled down the tip before wrapping your hand around the girth and stroking it shortly. It didn’t take long for you to slowly slide it inside your mouth, Jude’s hand reaching to rest on the crown of your head with a groan leaving his lips. 

Brahim didn’t seem to want to interrupt your work, but as you got into it, you felt the familiar hook of his fingers; this time around the waistband of your panties. He slid them down before a thumb stroked down your wet slit. But the slow-paced affections didn’t last long as he pressed his flat tongue to pick up all the slick and go straight to town on you. You started to struggle keeping your mouth and hand at a good pace, moans muffled with the thick cock stuffed in your mouth. 

“Don’t stop,” Jude warned between groans, the grip in your hair tightening. The oral fixation seemed to be pushing him over the edge, in the same situation you found yourself in. 

That was, until Brahim stopped. 

You couldn’t even find the time to complain, to ask him for more; some shuffling filling the suffocating air before a leaking tip grazed your sloppy slit, all soaked with your arousal. You arched your back, pushing back against the friction. Both men snickered between themselves, Brahim still teasing you with the tip of his hard dick. 

“You really want it, don’t you?” He cooed, his teasing actions still going further by pushing himself onto your entrance, but never making it fully inside. Instead of responding, you concentrated on giving your best affections, catching him off guard. 

“Bro— fuck, do it.” Jude gave him the approval, clearly taking your enthusiasm into his pleasure as encouragement for the other man to satisfy you. Brahim sighed, lining himself properly with your entrance before burying his length inside you. 

The groans that came out of your throat were gutural, full of lust. “You feel so good…” He exclaimed, throwing his head back, still getting used to the feel. He wasn’t the lengthiest, but the sheer girth made up for it. His hands gripped hard on the dough of your hips, tightening as he bounced your body against his in the same fashion you were doing earlier at the club. 

You couldn’t help but arch your back even lower, doing your best to continue with your hard labor as Brahim set a relentless pace. You’d come to notice he was the most anxious one, yearning to take you as yours. But it seemed to be rubbing off on the other man, his long fingers gripping your hair with certain force. He thrusted hard enough to rock the car at the movement of his hips, enough to have Jude controlling your mouth, choking on his length. 

The scene was straight out of the craziest adult film, but you knew that if you weren’t the one experiencing it, it wouldn’t be as hot. “Cum, baby. Come on.” Brahim encouraged, smacking your ass loudly; you were so fixated on pleasing the other man you didn’t even realize how close you were to your second release of the night. It knocked the air out of your lungs, saliva stuck with a guttural groan as the sensitive tip hit the back of your throat. 

“Squeeze my cock like that— mierda, así, yes!” You could make out from riding down the tidal wave your orgasm brought, still stroking Jude’s cock while you took a breather to let out all the scandalous moans, letting the small tears run and ruin your mascara a little. 

By the stutter on Brahim’s hips you noticed he was going to finish right then and there, only bouncing your hips back in the same fashion you were doing in no less than half an hour ago at the dance floor.

It took him a moment to recover, heavy breathing overshadowing the sloppy blowjob. He pulled out, looking back to watch the cum dripping out your whole. “Jude,” Brahim looked at him with a heavy breath. “Look at this. Look how perfect our pussy looks pumped of my cum,” 

You whined at the sheer force the Spanish national manhandled you to show you off like a prize, and with this new angle you noticed a hint of pride in his voice. Jude’s seeming examination took a moment, even though you could hear the slick noise your leftover saliva made as he stroked his cock. 

“I think it’s missing something…” Jude pondered, rising to his knees before pushing himself inside you. With a loud moan of surprise your knees couldn’t hold anymore, collapsing onto your stomach. Your head rested on Brahim’s thick thigh, and he soothed you through the first few instances with praise. Now it was his turn to be the doting one, brushing your hair back and talking you through it. “You’re taking it so well.” 

“Suck him off, babe. He’s getting hard for witnessing how much of a good pretty slut you are for us,” Jude ordered, pulling your hips back up to pound into you shamelessly. The command wasn’t a problem, mind so cockdrunk you could do whatever they asked of you. 

Jude still helped you up so you could get to the task at hand, but Brahim dipped lower to link his lips with yours tenderly, contrasting the constant sound of skin coming into contact. As you made out, you took the chance to stroke his cock, still soaked with your fluids. He seemed to be melting onto the seat, still sensitive from the previous orgasm. Breaking away and trying to manage your moans as best as you could, your tongue licked up the prominent vein up the underside, before wrapping your lips around the soft tip. 

You fluttered your lashes up at him, finding him cute with his parted lips. But it was Jude who picked your hair back and motivated you straight into the action, sounds of pleasure now coming from both men. Brahim writhed under you, while Jude had you squirming. 

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” Jude whined, trying to finish on the same pace but being unable to do so. Your walls squeezed him dry deliciously, and he leaned to press his chest against your back to reach around and draw circular motions on your overstimulated clit. “Just one more, okay baby? You can do it,” He encouraged, at the same time you tore yourself away from blowing Brahim to breathe and moan out freely. 

“Perfect girl,” Brahim cooed as Jude slowed down, helping you ride down the wave your release represented. Jude pulled out, now standing back to admire his load leaking straight out of you. But now it was his turn to help you onto his lap, holding you close. 

“You did so well,” Jude hummed, caressing your cheeks, cleaning the dried mascara. Brahim scooted over, brushing your hair back with his hands and pressing the tiniest, most playful kisses over your bare shoulders. With a gentle hand, Jude turned your head in his direction and locked his lips with your own, slightly swollen and adapting a redder tone. It was tender, calm. Brahim followed, matching the same energy. 

It was strange how both men had that duality to them; going from being completely hands on and greedy with your body, to soothing you with the sweetest touches. “We didn’t even make it to the hotel room…” You joked, the two of them joining in the lazy laugh. 

“It’s barely one in the morning.” Brahim brushed his nose against your cheek, in the same way he demanded a kiss earlier. You noticed him and Jude shared a look before looking back at you. 

“Round two?” They proposed in unison. Still, their voices and expressions didn’t give any hint of obligation, just curiosity. You knew you could reject them and they would understand completely. 

And that only captivated you further. 

“Round two.” You confirmed with a nod and a wink, getting yourself together to at least spend a minute or so at the hotel lobby. As you all entered and confirmed the booking, it seemed that their infatuation with you only grew; Brahim couldn’t tear himself away from your side while Jude couldn’t stop looking back at you with a certain glimmer in his eyes. 

You knew this was bound to be a long night. The biggest comfort though? That you knew you were going to wake up the next morning held securely by two pairs of strong arms.

[diana-rose-25]

— Let's Dance

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

Style Inspiration

pairing/s: BEBE! Bada Lee x Jam Republic! Reader x Wolf'Lo! Chocol

warnings: None so far, an unrealistic description of being an exchange foreign student, might confuse some words in ballet (as most of them are only through research and not based on experience).

description: A professional ballet dancer in Street Woman Fighter Season 2? (Y/N) Bae, a 23-year-old ballet and dance prodigy enters the fighting arena alongside the infamously known crew, Jam Republic. Making the team's aura far more intimidating despite being clad in soft pink and white clothing, adorned with astonished faces and friendly smiles. As the young woman entered the arena with curious eyes and small smile, the other teams couldn't help but awe at her beauty and elegant aura, unknowingly capturing the eyes of two charismatic dancers.

word count: 9.3k

status: unedited

now listening to:

"Monika, our fight judge. What will be your criteria today?" Kang Daniel, the host, asked Monika once the commotion has died down. 

"Honestly, some of the dance leaders here have been a dance contest judge for a long time. So, I dare say, I'll be cruelly objective and consider only what I see here. I won't consider my seniors' achievements in the past but only by result."

Shownu followed up next. “Based on what I’ve learned in my music career, and my sincere love for this show, I’ll evaluate your dance honestly.”

“Everybody in here is a professional. I don’t need to tell you that, and it’s going to be whoever’s day it is today. I have much respect for all of you guys. I’ll do my best to be a perfect judge for you today.” Mike Song concluded. 

(Y/N) nodded and clapped in appreciation. The fact that the judges said their objectives loudly and unapologetically made her breathe a sigh of relief. Especially since her senior and former teacher, Baby Sleek, is a participant of this competition. In her mind, and mostly the minds of the others, Baby Sleek is untouchable on the dance floor. 

Her heart dropped at the thought of battling one-on-one with her former teacher. She is confident in her skills and talent on the dance floor, but facing off against Baby Sleek – she’ll be lucky if she even gets one vote from the judges. Everything she learned about freestyle dancing and hip hop stems from her. 

The final person to be introduced was none other than DJ SOM before the rules of the challenge were explained. Each dancer will be given 40 seconds to dance. When it’s over, the judges will hold up their cards to decide the winner. But if two or more judges ask for a rematch, the two dancers will dance at the same time to determine the winner. According to the results, the crew will get a chip to put it on the crew board and count the wins and losses. 

“No Respect, Battle with the Weakest Dancer. We’ll begin Round One!” The room burst into cheers once again when Kang Daniel announced the official start of the battle. 

(Y/N) held up her interlinked hands with Ling and Emma as she cheered and stomped her feet in excitement. “Let’s go!” 

“Oh my gosh, it’s starting!” Ling exclaimed, turning from side to side to warm up her body.

“I’m so nervous right now,” Emma admitted and leaned against (Y/N). The older girl giggled at her team mate and wrapped her arm around her. Running her hand up and down against the younger one’s arm to soothe her nerves. 

“I know! Me too, but this is all so exciting!” 

“Easy for you to say,” Ling nudged her. “You’re the most experienced freestyle battler in here other than Emma.” 

“That doesn’t make it any less nerve-wrecking, Ling.” She nudged the girl back and squeezed her hand. They turned their attention back to the MC as he’s about to announce who will open the first dance battle of the season. “Who do you think it’s going to be?” 

(Y/N) shrugged, “I don’t know. Hopefully they start out the season with a bang.” 

“The first dancer for the first battle is…” 

Jam Republic leaned in their seats in anticipation, holding their breath for as long as Kang Daniel trailed off. Hearts throbbing against their chest.

“From 1MILLION, Redy.” The 1MILLION crew immediately stands up from their seat to cheer their fellow member on. A tall girl clad in white cap, white long-sleeved clothing, and dark jeans stands up and makes her way down the seats. 

From what (Y/N) could recall from the evaluation, Redy started dancing at 16 years old with a unique style. To her surprise, Redy was older than her by 2 years despite looking so young. 

“I wonder who her No Respect Dancer is,” (Y/N) thought as she leaned back in her seat. “Do you think it’s one of us?” 

“Doubt it,” answered Emma. “she might pick someone whose style is completely different from her. Or pick someone she has a bad blood with, it’s not uncommon.”

(Y/N) hummed in agreement, feeling her body relax. What Emma said earlier was true, it isn’t uncommon when it comes to dance offs. Some people tend to choose their opponents based on their past. Personally, she finds the means distasteful and unprofessional; but, it can’t be helped. She, herself, had experienced to being picked for the same reason when she was on competitions. 

“If she picks someone she has beef with, do you think she’ll give us a good fight or not?” Emma shook her head in response. 

“Probably not, it’s usually not a good idea to pick someone from the past. Emotions and tensions could rise and get in the way of a good freestyle.” 

“That’s true,” (Y/N) nodded as she watches Redy walk in front to the center of the arena with a microphone between her hands. 

As Redy started to speak, she walked towards the space of Wolf’Lo, surprising them and (Y/N). “Oh my gosh is she picking one of them?” The girl held her hand up to her mouth in shock when the girl clad in white continued to walk towards the orange team.

“The No Respect Dancer, I choose…” Redy trailed off once again and (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at her braveness if she ever picks one of the dancer from Wolf’Lo. 

She then turned to the other way, making (Y/N) puff out her cheeks in disappointment. As heavy as the tension is right now, one member of Wolf’Lo couldn’t help but grin at her adorable (from what she noticed so far) mannerisms. 

Jam Republic watches as Redy takes a u turn and walks to the other side of the arena as she announces who her No Respect Dancer is, “it’s Bada of BEBE.” 

The arena erupted in cheers. (Y/N) shoots up from her seat with a squeal and watches as Bada nods her head and stands up, flipping the bottled water in her hand as she did so. 

“That was so cool,” she whispered with a quiet, girlish giggle. Ling and Emma laughed at their team member and joined her as she stands up, wanting to see the commotion clearly. 

“Bada isn’t even dancing yet,” Ling teased to which (Y/N) just hushed her. 

“She’s the famous, trendy choreographer right?” The ballet dancer nodded to Emma’s question.

“Her strongest link is making choreographies. Most popular K-pop dances was made by her. Since she’s more known for her choreographed works, I’m excited to see her freestyle.”  

The two dancers began pacing around in the dance floor. There was a noticeable heavy tension in the air as they both prepare for the fight. Everyone is talking about their past, making the atmosphere heavier than it already was. 

“Redy of 1MILLION, you chose Bada of BEBE as your No Respect Dancer.” Kang Daniel started. 

“I don’t respect you, that’s it.” Redy stated bluntly. Bada placed a hand to her ear as she talks, mockingly insinuating that she’s listening closely to what she says. The room erupted in cheers, even judge Mike has his jaw on the floor. 

“Not Redy, Soo Bin!” Bada exclaimed, using Redy’s real name. “You’re still an eight-grader to me.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes widened at the drama that was unfolding right in front of her, wishing she has something she can chew or sip on as she watches their back and forth. A shocked laugh escaped her mouth when Bada called her an eight-grader. 

“Wait, what did she say?” Ling questions when her ear piece stops working momentarily, unable to catch the insult Bada threw at her opponent. Her expression turned to shock immediately after (Y/N) translated it to her. “Oh, damn. She’s a gangster right?” 

“Yeah,” Latrice said, “I like her energy.” 

Jam Republic laughs as Redy mimicked a baby by placing her thumb to between her lips. (Y/N) claps her hands in excitement as Kang Daniel announces the first attack to be made by Redy followed by Bada.

“Let’s go!” She shouts, bouncing on her toes. 

“The two dancers’ battle begins now. You guys ready?!” (Y/N) claps even harder when she heard the infamous line. “Fight!” 

Music filled the arena and the lights dimmed, the 40 second timer appeared on the huge screen and all dancers are hyped to watch the fight. The first beats of the music started and Redy started grooving into the music, her members cheering her on from behind her. 

(Y/N) watched with keen eyes as Redy danced. The older girl was flexible, that’s for sure, and she is hitting the beats. Redy’s style was certainly unique. However, in her opinion, it lacks in any form of wow factor. 

She still cheered and clapped her hands afterwards and the music switched, signalling Bada’s turn. Her voice increased in volume when Bada spins and comes up to Redy’s face, standing tall to enunciate their height difference without the use of words. 

“I hate it when people use their height!” She giggled when she heard Chocol whined. 

“Oh my gosh!”

“Oh my gosh, she’s so tall!” Ling and (Y/N) exclaimed at the same time. The latter girl hides her face in her hand, parting her fingers so she can still see the battle as she feels them become hot. Their eyes momentarily meets for a second and she swore the corners of Bada’s lips curved up for a second. 

The eye contact didn’t last long when Bada suddenly swats the air on the top of Redy’s head. (Y/N)’s eyes stayed glued to Bada’s dancing, mesmerized at the clean and sharp moves she does. She couldn’t help but cheer at the way Bada hits each beat of the music and the way she grooves. Bada’s time comes to an end as she spits the piece of paper in her mouth. The room erupted in cheers and claps and at the end of the battle. 

“What the heck,” Ling said in astonishment as they sit back down. 

“That was so good,” (Y/N) said. “A great battle to start off the season.”

Everyone returned to their respective seats as Redy, Bada, and Kang Daniel stands at the center for the announcement of the results. When the cards flipped, 3 blue cards appeared at the judge’s hands. 

Team BEBE cheered as they secured their first win, and Bada certainly secured a title for herself as one of the most talented and skilled individuals of the show. The dancers returned to their seats as the judges tells their thoughts about the battle. 

“I was impressed by both of you,” Shownu started, “Redy of 1MILLION shocked me. But, I reckon that Bada’s move suited the song more and she was more relaxed.” 

“I’ll be honest to help you improve, you’re still and eighth-grader even from my point of view.” Emma, Ling, and (Y/N)’s mouth parted in shock at Monika’s comment, feeling bad for the 1MILLION dancer. “But, Bada is certainly out of this league.” 

“Damn,” was (Y/N)’s only comment – watching as BEBE place their first chip on the win score board and Bada attach the chip on the lose side of 1MILLION’s board. 

⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠��⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

A short break was conducted after the first battle between Bada and Redy. Jam Republic sat around in a circle as they debriefed about the event earlier. As they talked however, (Y/N) couldn’t help but point out the several eyes that is currently looking in their direction. More specifically: 

“You got a lot of eyes on you Kirsten,” she whispered towards her leader. “Not just the dancers, but the judges as well.” 

“Really?” Kirsten smiles before she looks around. Sure enough, there were several dancers looking at her direction, even Monika and Shownu. 

The rest of the team giggled when Kirsten smiled giddily at them, feeling a burst in her confidence. 

“I think they’re looking forward to see you dance,” Latrice tapped her shoulders. They returned to their original positions when Kang Daniel came back to the center. 

“The next dancer to participate in the one-on-one battle is,” he pauses for dramatic effect. “Jam Republic’s Kirsten!” 

The room once again erupted in cheers and claps as the most anticipated dancer of the season smiles and makes her way towards the middle. 

“Hello,” the leader greeted with a chuckle. “No Respect Dancer that I would like to defeat…”

As she trailed off, the dancers’ eyes shift from side-to-side in anticipation with a touch of agitation and intimidation. They could feel Kirsten’s intimidation aura, and most of them are terrified at the thought of going one-on-one with her. 

“Waackxxxy.” She said, gesturing to the said dancer who grinned from her seat. 

The teams and even Monika acclaims in delight as they are about to witness a great battle between two, strong dancers. 

From the evaluation, Waackxxxy is a phenomenal dancer with powerful moves and an unmatched energy. Kirsten immediately picked her as her No Respect Dancer to push herself. Jam Republic and Mannequeen members stands behind their respective dancer who will compete on one-on-one. 

“When I watched the video, you were world-class and I would love to take you on. Let’s Battle.” Waackxxxy nodded her head in appreciation. The other dancers and Monika praised Kirsten for her admirable action to take on a strong battler. 

“Thank you so much for liking my video and class, but, I’ll show you my dance. Okay, let’s go.” (Y/N) clasped her hands in front of her and rests her chin on top of it, hyped for the battle between her leader and the well-known international dancer, Waackxxxy. 

“Let’s go Kirsten!” She cheered. 

“The world-class choreographer and the world-class waacking dancer. The battle of the two dancer begins now. You guys ready? Fight!” 

The DJ starts the music and Waackxxxy of Mannequeen goes first. From the get-go, everyone could see the charisma and the reason why Waackxxxy is considered as a world-class battler. Her body control and energy is so insane that Jam Republic couldn’t help but also hype her up. 

Waackxxxy ended her time with a strong side-eye on Kirsten’s direction. When the switch was announced, (Y/N) started jumping up and down as she cheered loudly for her leader. 

“Come on, Kirsten! Bring it!” Latrice yelled. 

The screams increased when Kirsten and Waackxxxy circled each other, following the beat of the music. 

“That was fu- insane!” Ling and Latrice laughed hysterically when a curse word almost escaped (Y/N)’s mouth. 

Jam Republic continued to cheer their leader on as the battle went on. (Y/N) was so hyped that she slipped and lost her footing momentarily. Luckily, someone immediately stabilizes her before she could fall. 

(Y/N) looks up to thank the person who caught her, only to blush brightly as her eyes met Bada’s shadow-covered eyes and a concerned face. 

“Are you okay?” Bada asked, still holding onto her elbow. 

She hummed and flashed her a grin. “Mhm, thank you!” 

They stared at each other for a few moments with a small smile and blush dusting their faces without saying a word. It’s as if it was just the two of them in the room together as the noises seem to quiet down, fading into the background. 

(Y/N) snapped out of it when Kang Daniel announced the end of the battle, immediately turn to find Kirsten walking towards their side. She thanks Bada one last time before rushing to her leader’s side to congratulate her for the amazing battle. 

Bada remained standing there, running her hand on the back of her nape to will her pounding heart to calm down. A grin makes it way to her face as she returns to her seat, not noticing Lusher who saw the whole interaction and is hiding a smile behind her hand. Making a mental note to tease her leader about it later. 

The judges showed their cards. Monika and Mike holds both cards for Jam Republic and Mannequeen, signalling a rematch between both dancers.

The rematch starts and both dancers still held their ground as they showed two variation of dance style. It ended up with another rematch when Monika showed 2 cards, much to the surprise of everyone. 

“I can only choose one?” She asked exasperatedly, clearly in distress to choose between the two when Kang Daniel nodded and held up one finger. “That’s insane. I can’t do that!” 

“Whoever you pick will be the winner. The victory lies in your hands.” 

(Y/N) feels her heart pound against her chest, holding her clasped hands against her and prayed for Jam Republic’s first win. “Please, please, please, please.” She muttered underneath her breath. 

“Here I go,” Monika concluded. The count down started until finally, she held up a pink card. 

Kirsten cemented Jam Republic’s first win. 

Jam Republic cheered while Mannequeen slumped their shoulder in dejection. 

“Great job, Kirsten!” (Y/N) cheered as she gave Kirsten a side hug and a grin. 

“That was insane!” 

“Good job!” They praised their leader. 

Across the room, Waackxxxy is visibly enraged and disappointed with the results of the battle. 

“In this last round, both dancers were at the same level.” Mike Song stated. “But Kirsten grabbed my attention a little more.”

“That was such a great battle. It was so energizing. The reason I chose Kirsten at the end, was that she made the song come alive a bit more and I weighed that more importantly. Rather than being too serious, I had no choice but to give it to the person expressing the song. That’s why I hope you understand my decision. Although it was a very difficult one.” Monika concluded. 

(Y/N) clapped enthusiastically as Kirsten place a winning chip on their score board. That happiness didn’t last long however, when Kang Daniel announced the next opponent. Another member of Mannequeen, Yoonji. 

From the dancer’s expression, the anger was obvious from the way stomped down the seats and towards the middle. 

“I’m so scared,” Ling said and Emma agreed. 

“She seems crazy.” The younger one replied, feeling on edge because of Yoonji’s attitude. 

(Y/N) sits stiffly on her seat, eyes narrowed and feels goosebumps crawl up her arms and neck. “She looks like she’s plotting revenge,” she stated lowly. 

They watch as Yoonji paced around back and forth in agitation.

“I’m very angry right now,” she confessed, still pacing around. “Mannequeen has come here as the crew known to be the strongest in battles. I think it’s time we showed that.” 

(Y/N) smirked at her insinuation, finding it a tad difficult to believe since Baby Sleek and her crew is also a part of this competition. 

“I’ve said this already, but who’s the one chewing up and spitting out battles lately?” Yoonji said, making a beeline towards 1MILLION and standing in front of Lia Kim. 

“This battle. I can show you later.” (Y/N) let out a sharp laugh when Yoonji left Lia Kim alone as soon as she got there. She’s certainly entertaining. 

“Kirsten, come out girl,” Yoonji suddenly stated quite forcefully as she gestured Kirsten to come out. The woman mentioned gave a small smile to Yoonji as she stands up and place her jacket on her sear. 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but tilt her head to the side and bit her bottom lip in annoyance, feeling rather protective of her leader. 

“I’m going to take revenge for my sister. Come out, girl!” 

(Y/N) huffed as she immediately followed her leader and stand 2 feet directly behind her, eyes narrowed and focused on Yoonji. The other members of Jam Republic soon followed with nervous smiles on their faces, but the latter members face was devoid of any emotion. 

“I’m going to show you who is the hottest girl in South Korea!” Yoonji exclaimed as her crew cheered her on. “You know, girl? I’m going to show you.” 

When (Y/N) saw Yoonji walk towards Kirsten and got near her face, a small smile graced her lips – devoid of any humour, as she too walked towards Kirsten, standing directly behind her and held her elbow. She stands tall in front of Yoonji and looks down at her, taking inspiration from Bada Lee and uses her height for advantage, to which Team BEBE squealed. 

The other crew also howled in astonishment as she did so. 

“Bada-unnie you influenced her already?!” Tatter exclaimed as she shakes her leader’s arm back and forth.

“What is it with tall people and comparing heights?! I’m so jealous right now!” Bada laughs as her members whined. She leaned forward in her seat with her hands clasped together, feeling oddly satisfied with the way (Y/N) seemed to copy her move. 

While Kirsten nodded gracefully at her opponent, (Y/N) snickers when Yoonji’s gaze flickered upon her for a moment before going back to the other side where her crew is. 

(Y/N) slightly pulled Kirsten back and leans down to whisper in her ear, “you okay?” 

Kirsten, not the slightest bit intimidated, just nodded at her with a grin. “Word, she says ass fat.” The taller girl laughed at her leader when she stuck her tongue out. 

“(Y/N) is so scary now!” 

“She’s giving off protective older sibling vibes oh my gosh!” Mina Myoung exclaimed, watching as (Y/N) now jokes along with the other members. “Look at how she switches! She’s back to being all smiley now!” 

“What were you teaching her Baby Sleek?!” Haechi asked after witnessing it. The older girl said nothing but gave her a shrugged shoulder and a proud smile. 

Chocol said nothing but continues to watch with a small smirk, loving the feisty and protective attitude of the taller girl of the pink team. Hoping that after the show, she’ll come running to Baby Sleek so she can have an excuse to finally introduce herself. 

Or maybe, she’ll have the chance to introduce herself on the dance floor. Maybe flirt a little as well. 

“I’m going to show you who is the queen!” Mannequeen cheered as Yoonji yelled before mocking the moves of Kirsten earlier by swaying her hips from side-to-side. The yellow-team crew member gives her a side-eye, looking up at her up and down in a condescending manner. 

Kirsten, unbothered, just smiled at her opponent. The same can’t be said towards her ballet dancer member who was seething in annoyance. 

“I’m excited,” Kirsten started. “Let’s see. We’re here in Korea now, so, let’s see.” 

The members of the crew once again stood behind their respective member competing. Yoonji and Kirsten paced around as they prepare themselves. 

“We have Yoonji from Mannequeen going first.” Kang Daniel announced. Yoonji immediately went to the front and strike up a pose. “Jam Republic’s Kirsten will go in second.” 

(Y/N) sat beside Latrice and Ling as the host began, “the next battle between these two dancers, are you guys ready?! Let’s go! Fight!” 

Yoonji moves her body as the first beat of the music starts, starting off strong and fierce. (Y/N) bites her lip out of irritation when she mockingly hits Kirsten with her elbow, to the point where she almost believed it hits her leader when Kirsten played along. 

The Mannequeen dancer ended her dance strong when she made her way towards where the judges are, much to the delight of everyone. 

“She’s a great dancer, but I think she got a tad bit overemotional,” (Y/N) whispered towards Latrice as she claps after her performance. The latter girl nods in agreement before standing up in excitement when the host announces the switch, meaning, its Kirsten’s turn to perform. 

(Y/N) bounces on her toes with a huge grin on her face as she watches her leader dance. Even more so when she dances around Yoonji’s figure without touching her, showing the immense amount of body control she has. Jam Republic watched with a face of impress and admiration, shouting in delight when Kirsten snaps her hips. 

“That was insane!” She exclaimed once the battle ended. It wasn’t long before the judges showed the cards of the winning result of the battle. 

And three yellow cards were faced. 

Mannequeen cheers loudly for the victory while Jam Republic claps their hand. Sure, the battle didn’t end up in their favour, but it is understandable since Yoonji conveyed a lot through her dance. 

Once the emotion of frustration simmered down, Yoonji shakes Kirsten’s hand with a smile and pulls her for a hug. Thanking her for the battle and saying I love you to her. 

On their way to their seats, (Y/N) wrapped her arm around Kirsten’s shoulder and congratulated her, saying the same to Yoonji when they passed her by. Although the battle was intense and heated, there was no point in starting unwanted rivalry outside of the dance floor. 

⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

Another break was conducted after a few battles from Jam Republic and other teams. Emma, Latrice, Audrey, and Ling had already participated in their own respective battles. Ling battled against Cera which takes her by surprise, both of them had chosen her as their No Respect Dancer to push themselves. (Y/N) is the only Jam Republic member who have yet to battle anyone.

“(Y/N) has yet to dance, right?” A member from Deep N’ Dap says, looking at the direction of the Jam Republic who was talking animatedly with her team. 

“Mhm, I’m really excited to see her dance though.” Another member responded. 

However, the long wait is about to be over. 

“The next challenger of the battle, Cera of Mannequeen.” 

Howls and cheers rang through the arena, everyone had witnessed the intense and captivating performance of Cera earlier when she battled Ling. The member of Mannequeen adorned in her iconic green dress made her way towards the center with a smirk on her face, her members cheers as they follow closely behind her. 

 A mic was handed to her, the crowd became silent, and she walks around. 

“The No Respect Dancer I chose to battle…” she trails off, making her way towards 1MILLION. 

“From 1MILLION?” Mini questioned as she watches Cera stop right in front of the white team. The members looked up at her with their hearts on their throat, terrified of the idea that one of them has to face off against her. 

“My No Respect Dancer…” she trails off again, but this time, she walks towards the next team. “Is Jam Republic’s (Y/N). Come on.” 

Everyone’s lost their minds as Cera called out the Jam Republic dancer. 

“Yehey!” Audrey cheered – shooting up from her seat with a bounce on her step. 

“Wah! This is like the battle of the Prima Ballerina’s!” Harimu yelled from her stand.

(Y/N)’s cheeks puffed as it’s filled with water, Cera called her in the middle of her taking a sip, but she didn’t complain. It’s just hard for her to grin with all the water in her cheeks. Though, everyone can still see the joy in her eyes. 

She gulped down everything and stands up with a clap, grinning from ear-to-ear as she bows in greeting to Cera, holding her hands against her chest. They make their way to the center of the arena with their team following closely behind them. The two dancers stand in between Kang Daniel, standing tall with microphones handed to each of them. She bows one more time towards Cera before standing tall with a smile on her face, excited to battle one of the strongest battlers in the show.

Her opponent clad in green dress bows along with her before standing up straight and switched her face into battle mode – a stoic face with an arched brow, as if wanting to end her. (Which, not gonna lie, (Y/N) 100% will let her). 

“Cera of Mannequeen,” Kang Daniel began, “why did you pick (Y/N) as your No Respect Dancer?” 

“It’s not that I don’t respect (Y/N) as a dancer,” Cera started, holding the mic to her lips with one hand. “Quite the opposite actually, but, it’s time to show the people who the best ballerina battler is.” 

The whole arena cheers and awes at what Cera said whilst (Y/N) just giggled and nodded her head. If there was one thing she always takes pride in, it’s her dancing skills and techniques in ballet. 

“Cera-unnie, first of all, thank you for choosing me as your No Respect Dancer.” She bows down again, “however, if I am to prove anything to everyone here today – is that ballet is my style, and I am one of the best out there.” 

Amidst the loud roars of the others dancers in the background, Ling, Kirsten, and Audrey’s cheers seems to be the loudest among them. 

Cera smirked at the determination of her opponent keeping eye contact with her, and (Y/N) didn’t back down. 

The two dancers briefly walked back to the side where their crew members are at for a warm-up, and (Y/N) takes this opportunity to remove her sneakers to change into the dance shoes. 

“Is she changing her shoes for this battle?” Monika questioned – perplexed and intrigued. Mike Song just grins widely as he leaned forward, excited at the intense battle that is about to happen. 

“Wah, she’s changing her shoes,” Bada commented, looking at the Jam Republic dancer who is currently leaning to one of her members while adjusting her shoes. “She’s putting her best foot forward for this battle.” 

Tatter and Lusher agreed, keeping their eyes trained on the ballet dancer, eager to watch her dance. 

“You got this girl,” Latrice said. Offering her arm for (Y/N) to stabilize herself as she changes her shoes. “Show her and everyone what you’re made of.” 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) replied. Jumping in her place to feel the shoes beneath her feet. 

“Kill everyone who doubted you with your dance.” Jam Republic laughed at the seriousness in Audrey’s voice, taken aback by her. 

The lights dimmed once the two dancers made their way towards the center, Kang Daniel exchanged glances with the two women in the middle of the dance floor with a smile on his face. 

“The battle between two ballerina dancers will begin now. You guys ready?!” Kang Daniel announced. Cera and (Y/N) eyed each other up and down, one with a stoic, daring look, standing tall and elegantly, while the other is currently sporting a small smile on her lips as she cracks her head from side-to-side. 

“Let’s go (Y/N)!” 

“Show them what you’ve got!” 

“Kill this battle (Y/N)!” 

The other Jam Republic members cheers can be heard from all over the room before the battle can even begin. 

“Fight!” 

The music started playing as soon as Kang Daniel said the word. Cera starts her iconic slow walk while keeping her eye-contact with (Y/N). It’s quite intimidating, but (Y/N) held her ground, admiring the determination in Cera’s eyes. 

Cera started moving her arms at each beat of the music, before adding her own twists and turns before she does her iconic leg move. (Y/N)’s face scrunched up in disgust, indicating a sick and impressive move done by her opponent as she hits every beat of the music. 

The Mannequeen dancer comes close to you, pointing at you with a single finger and pointing it up and down your figure. (Y/N) bit her lower lip as she arched her brow and titled her head. Leaning her head down a bit to stare at Cera with lidded yet seductive eyes. 

The whole crowd went crazy with her looks. 

She can’t deny the charisma and confidence of Cera in this battle, the latter really is showing years of experience in battling and the undeniable musicality she seemingly naturally possess. 

As Cera’s time comes to an end, you used a sign language taught to you by Baby Sleek and signalled her to hurry up – much to the surprise of the other members of Wolf’Lo. 

“She knows how to use it?!” Yeni asks in surprise, bringing her hands up to her head. Baby Sleek is the only one looking focused at the battle, eager for you to showcase your dance while the others had their jaws dropped. 

Kang Daniel counts the last 3 seconds of Cera’s time, the woman comes close to your face and circled you whilst flipping your hair – just like what she did to Ling, before walking back confidently to the side of her team. 

“3, 2, 1, switch! (Y/N) of Jam Republic!” 

The members of Jam Republic screamed once the opening of Partition by Beyonce starts playing. (Y/N) smirks, stepping slowly forward towards the middle, mimicking a seductive wave after she flips her hair once the “hey, Ms. Carter” starts playing. 

Everyone went wild once the beat drops – along with (Y/N) as she suddenly drops down to her knees and starts to doing some sensual floor works. The judges and competitors alike went ballistic at her opening moves, and it was just beginning. 

(Y/N) kept her eyes on Cera the whole time, still with that lidded gaze. She slowly stands up, spinning fast with the beat in an insanely clean and controlled manner. She then did some popping and locking, showcasing her prowess in other styles of dancing other than ballet much to the delight of the judges and her team mates. She hits every beat of the song while sometimes taking the lyrics into account of her movements – showing a great control of her body and unparallel musicality.

“This is so crazy!” Monika yells as she keeps her eyes trained at (Y/N). 

Chocol couldn’t look at anywhere else once (Y/N) started dancing. She has her arms crossed against her chest as she watches intensely with a impressed smirk plastered on her face. She walks down the steps to have a better view of the dancer dancing before her. 

She finds it impressive at how she uses various techniques and moves of ballet and other styles to incorporate it in her moves. It looks complicated, but she makes it look so seemless and effortless. 

Bada, on the other side of the arena, finds it hard to contain her emotions as she watches the Jam Republic dancer. She’s constantly shouting, impressed by the moves executed by the young dancer. She holds onto her cap as her jaw drops once (Y/N) did an aerial. 

She claps and screams along with the rest of her team as she continues to watch her with a starstruck gaze and jaw dropped. Lusher takes one glance at Bada before she bursts out laughing. 

“Oh my gosh your totally whipped Bada-unnie!” She laughs, slapping Bada’s arm as she threw her head back. 

Bada immediately flushed red and attempted to cover it with a cough, but it still wasn’t enough to tear away her gaze from the performing dancer of the pink team. 

While (Y/N) remained oblivious to the pairs of eyes staring at her, she focused on ending her battle with a bang. As Kang Daniel signals the last 5 seconds of her time, she makes her way towards Cera – mimicking the way she circled around her earlier, but with her own seductive walk. She stopped in front of her, bending down to her eye level whilst blowing a kiss with a wink, wiggling her fingers in a goodbye motion before walking back to her team with a smile and playing with her hair as she shakes her head from side-to-side. 

(Y/N)’s members hyped her up as she walks towards them. She laughs as Audrey and Ling jokingly bows down to her like a royalty, making the others follow soon after. She covers her laughs underneath her hands to also hide the redness that’s painting her cheeks. 

Everyone went ballistic. Screaming their heads off at the intense yet entertainingly fun battle between the ballerina’s of Mannequeen and Jam Republic. 

She then turns back around to face Cera who has a smile on her face, bowing down at her in gratitude for the battle. She continued bowing to everyone who was still in shock by the battle – her heart swelled with pride once she sees Monika standing up with a shocked smile on her lips as well as Mike Song and Shownu who were clapping. 

“Good girl, (Y/N)!” Baby Sleek yells, clapping her hands. The mentioned girl heard it and snaps her head towards her, holding her hands to her chest before bowing deeply. She can feel tears well up in her eyes but she shakes her head to avoid them from falling down. 

Her former teacher praised her loudly and openly. The highest compliment she could ever receive from this competition. 

“That was intense!” Lusher exclaimed, sitting back down in her seat once the commotion started dying down. 

“They really showed their battling skills. Their confidence is through the roof!” Mini exclaimed. “Honestly, whoever wins this deserves it.” 

(Y/N) and Cera makes their way back to the center of the dance floor. Breathing heavily after the intense battle they shared. 

“Fight judges,” Kang Daniel starts, “cards open.”

(Y/N) could hear her heart ponding against her chest and in her ears as she fiddles with her fingers. All the judges visibly look like they’re having a hard time deciding on their choices. She reminds herself that whatever the outcome of the battle is, she gave it her best. Yet, she still wants to secure a win for her team. 

And then, the cards are flipped. 

And everyone cheered. 

Monika holds two cards – pink and yellow. 

While Shownu and Mike Songs holds a single, pink card. 

(Y/N) almost drops to the ground because of relief. 

Cera and Mannequeen sighs in defeat and in dismay while the Jam Republic members – specifically Audrey, Ling, and Kirsten, cheers loudly. 

(Y/N) makes her way towards Cera and offers her hand, “you are amazing! I love your dance! You are simply amazing out there and thank you for the wonderful battle. It was an honour to compete with you. I hope we can be good friends in the future because you are simply just amazing!” 

Cera coos at the adorable ramble of her opponent and pulls her to a hug. “Thank you, thank you too for that battle. I love you, you’re amazing too out there! We must definitely meet up sometime after this.” 

(Y/N) grins and pats her back before they separate. “We should do this more often!” Cera laughs before she and her team makes their way towards their seats.

“Way to go (Y/N)!” Kirsten exclaims as she holds onto her arm. 

“You really killed it out there!” 

“Thank you guys, that was so great. I really want to be close friends with Cera now.” Ling giggles at her comment.

The rest of her team continues to praise her with compliments and congratulations on their way back to their seats. As (Y/N) makes eye contact with her former teacher, she flashes her a grin and a thumbs up. Baby Sleek returns her gestures with a wink and a nod. 

Kirsten adds a win chip to their board while (Y/N) makes her way towards Mannequeen to place a lose chip on their board, bowing down at the members and thanking them for a wonderful fight. 

“I can’t even be mad at her,” Yoonji starts, “she’s too polite for me to be mad at us loosing.” 

“The whole team is,” Redlic agrees. 

“Judge Mike Song, why did you choose (Y/N) as the winner?” Kang Daniel asks once everyone settled down to their seats. 

“First of all, the two dancers are very powerful and seasoned in battles – they showed it to us! It was one of the very entertaining and very fun battles this day that’s for sure, and for that, I want to thank the two of you.” 

(Y/N) and Cera bows their head in gratitude with huge smiles on their faces and everyone claps. Kirsten and Latrice pats their team mate of her shoulders with a grin on their faces. 

“Choosing between the two of you is almost torture!” Mike Song jokingly sighs with a shake of his head, causing everyone to laugh at his dramatic tone. “However, the reason I chose (Y/N) at the end is because of the versatility she showcased us. The body control, the movements, the flow of each step was like water! It was so fluid and she did it with such grace and confidence. So, (Y/N), I hope to see more of you in this competition, because you really killed it out there.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but stand and bow deeply towards Mike Song and thanked him. The rest of the crews claps and awes at the high praise the member of Jam Republic received from one of the respectable judges. 

“That’s one of the highest praise someone got from the judges today,” Mina Myoung commented. “Looks like Kirsten is not the only force of nature in Jam Republic.” 

“Their team just got a lot more intimidating.” Nob commented, looking at Jam Republic. 

“I entered this show so sure of my preference and sexuality, but tell me why Bada and (Y/N) are making me question it?” Deep N Dap members laughs at the unexpected comment Downy made. 

⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

It wasn’t long before Mike Song’s request for more battles came true. 

“The next challenger of the battle,” Kang Daniel began, pausing once again for the dramatic effects. “Is Chocol from Wolf’Lo.” 

“Oh right! Let’s go!” Haechi cheers, shaking Chocol by her shoulders as the older dancer makes her way down the seats. Per usual, her crew follows close behind her. 

“I wonder who she chose,” Emma comments after taking a sip from her water, “her team is kinda scary.” 

(Y/N) and Ling hums in agreement, watching the crew in front of them in silent. Silently terrified at the thought of battling against one of them. Though (Y/N) is confident in her skills and unafraid to show them, Wolf’Lo is just on another level. 

Chocol takes the microphone that’s handed to her, licking her lips as she starts to walk around.

“The No Respect Dancer I choose,” she began, making her way towards Lady Bounce who tenses up from their seats. 

She gave a slight smirk to Nob and Biggy who visibly gulps down the saliva stuck down their throats. Chocol enjoyed teasing them, making them think that she’s choosing one of them, but then, she skipped backwards without looking back before suavely turning around and jogs lightly towards the pink team. “Is Jam Republic’s (Y/N)” 

“My god my heart,” Nob says. Holding onto her chest as she breathes out a sigh of relief and leans backwards. 

(Y/N) smiles, standing up from her seat from the top and sets down the Jam Republic banner in her hand. Before she can take a single step down, she saw a hand in front of her. When she looks at who the hand belongs to, it leads down to Chocol, waiting for her at the bottom with her arm outstretched. 

“Oh, okay,” Kirsten said teasingly as she and Latrice moved to the side to make way for (Y/N).

“Special treatment, I see you.” Latrice added.

Everyone awes at the action, more so when (Y/N) places her hand on Chocol’s with a smile before descending down the seats. 

“It’s like a prince charming guiding a princess,” Redy said, leaning forward with her hands on the bottom of her chin. “I’m so jealous right now.” 

“What in the story book cliché is this?” Yoonji stomps her feet jokingly, “why didn’t I get that kind of treatment?” 

“Yah, you threatened her leader earlier to a dance battle with a scary façade and you expect the others not to be afraid of you?” Buckey jokingly replies which made everyone burst out laughing and Yoonji to pout. 

“Tsk.” Bada clicked her tongue as she watches Chocol guide (Y/N) to the dance floor with their hands still intertwined with narrowed eyes. “Honestly, this is a serious competition. Why is she being nice to her opponent?” 

Lusher hears what her leader grumbled underneath her breath, causing her to giggled and comfortingly pat her back. “Don’t worry unnie, no need to be jealous.” 

Bada snaps her head towards her sub-leader with a glare and a slight pout. “Who said anything about jealousy?” 

Lusher holds her hands up with wide eyes and downturned smile. “Nothing, nothing. I’m just teasing you.” 

Bada clicks her tongue once again in annoyance before looking back to the front with her arms crossed against her chest. Lusher and Tatter made eye-contact from each sides of Bada with knowing looks and teasing smiles. The other members of Team BEBE heard the conversation laughs silently, watching as their leader sulks down on her seat. 

“Chocol, why did you choose (Y/N) as your weakest dancer?” Kang Daniel asked. 

With their height difference, Chocol had to tilt her head up ever so slightly to make eye-contact with her opponent. She adjusted her cap with one hand as the other holds the mic to her lips. 

“Originally, I chose her because I want to see what that pretty face can bring. But from the battle earlier, we all saw it. So now, I want to see if she can bring that fire come to life again, but this time, more closely and upfront.” 

“Is she flirting with her or what?” Debby whispered to Harimu with a slight giggle. 

(Y/N) nods and rolls her tongue against her cheek, bowing her head down slightly. She tosses her hair back before answering with her now famous lidded-eye look, “if it’s fire you want, then I’ll gladly burn the stage in here, baby.” 

Everyone screams once they heard (Y/N) talk in that low-flirty way as combat against Chocol’s remarks in full English:

“Why was that so hot?!” 

“I don’t speak and understand English very well but damn!” 

“See! I told you she’s making me question everything!” 

“I understand you perfectly well now, Downy!” 

(Y/N) laughs as she hears the comments, giving the mic to her Kirsten who is now looking at her with a teasing face. 

“You better burn the stage baby,” she mimics. (Y/N) rolls her eyes at her before teasing pinching her arm. Kirsten laughs as she dodges her hand. 

(Y/N) faces her opponents team, the team of Baby Sleek. It would be a lie if she says she isn’t downright petrified right now. This is the crew with the most skilled freestyle battlers – but she was trained by the best of them. This is her chance to solidify and prove herself once again to one of the most respected teachers she had. 

Chocol bounces on her feet, preparing for the battle. (Y/N) has her hands stretching above her head as far as she can as she glances at her opponent who teasingly winks at her. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the playful nature of Chocol. 

Bada grumbled even more at the exchange. She doesn’t even know why she’s feeling this ugly feeling in her chest. Hell, she didn’t even have a conversation with the dancer yet, or even introduce herself! That doesn’t mean she won’t find away later, maybe she’s just bitter that someone got to befriend her before her. Yeah, maybe that’s it. She just wants to forge a friendship with the dancer first, you know, just cause.

“The battle between Wolf’Lo’s street dancer and the ballerina of Jam Republic will begin now. You guys ready?!” 

Cheers erupted from both teams and the rest of the teams, curious to see the outcome of the battle between two very different styles of dance between the two dancers.

“Fight!” 

Music filled the loud speakers of the room. Chocol nods her head to the beat to get into the groove as her team mates cheers her on. When the beat drops, she comes close to (Y/N)’s space and sways her body to the music. 

It was a bold start, (Y/N) admits, and the way Chocol moves is nothing short of hypnotic. Her body moves so fluidly yet with power as she hits every beat of the song. She definitely knows how to control body on command, if there is one thing she can describe her dance overall, it’s classic hip-hop. Effective yet timeless when it comes to battle. 

(Y/N) smirks as Chocol comes close to her face, mimicking the flying kiss she did to Cera earlier. Wanting to continue this banter, she “catches” the kiss mid-air and pretends to keep it in her pocket. 

She lets out an impress shout at Chocol’s body articulation. She began hyping her up, moving her body along with the beat while staying still in her position. Chocol’s performance is nothing short of impressive, but her competitive side is coming out, and now she wants to do better. 

As Chocol’s timer comes to an end, she once again closes in on (Y/N)’s space, this time, ending her dance by mockingly pointing at her figure up and down and another flying kiss which caused another uproar from the side of Deep N Dap

“That should be me!” Someone shouts. 

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, switch! Jam Republic’s (Y/N)!”

A familiar laugh echoes through the room, before the beginning lyrics of Gangsta by Kehlani plays. (Y/N) lets out a wide smirk and tilts her head to the side. 

My turn.

Audrey began screaming her head off once the familiar music fills the air. She danced with (Y/N) before during her time of travelling the world to learn new styles of dance, and if there is one thing Audrey knows for certain, (Y/N) dances very well to dark themes. 

“You got this (Y/N)! Eat. This. Up!” 

With that, the Jam Republic dancer ran her hands across her body to get into the feel of the music – which isn’t that hard. She began walking forward slowly, just like what Cera did, but with a tad bit more of sensuality. 

When the beat starts going down, her expression and articulation changes to every beat, mimicking the craziness Harley Quinn did in the movie in which the song was made of. Everyone can see where she’s going with the dance and is excited yet again. Bada and Chocol keeps their gazes focused solely on her. 

In this dance, (Y/N) focuses more on interpreting the lyrics of the song yet still hitting the necessary beat from time to time, just taking on a more contemporary approach. In contrast to Chocol’s hip-hop, she chose a genre she excels in.

Chocol smirks as she goes down towards the floor once again, expecting another floor work from her. She did, but a lot shorter and takes everyone by surprise once again. 

(Y/N) did a middle spilt before crouching down, but she didn’t get up. Instead, she takes a hold of her left foot, before initiating a single hand cartwheel – still holding onto the foot, down to a split and stands up without the use of her hands. 

Screams can be heard once again, thoroughly impressed by the never-ending amount of techniques and tricks the Jam Republic dancer seem to possess. Jam Republic members sported a disgusted looks as they cheer their fellow member on, some jumping on their places purely from the amount of adrenaline they are getting just by watching (Y/N) dance. 

They are not the only one’s though. Bada, with her cool and mysterious look she once sported, almost disappears by how much she is now yelling. Watching (Y/N) dance only increases her determination and will to befriend her and possibly collab with her and her team in the future. Bada watches with awe as (Y/N) stays true to her word: she really is setting the stage on fire. 

(Y/N) can hear her time coming to an end, she laid down on her stomach with her legs up in the air as she drags her finger to her lips, smirking seductively at Chocol. The said girl only tilted her cap and bites her bottom lip in acknowledgement.

(Y/N) held onto that pose for a few seconds, taking in the cheers and the screams of the other dancers before grinning brightly and standing up. 

“How can she possess that duality?! One moment she’s all smiles and elegant looking the next moment its as if she’s seducing me!” Downy exclaimed as she watches (Y/N) makes her way to her team with a bright smile.    

“She’s like a wolf in sheep’s clothing!” Mini said, clapping her hands after patting and congratulating Chocol on the battle.

“You were on fire baby!” Emma cheers, patting the heaving girl on the shoulders. 

“Harley Quinn definitely possessed you for a moment there!” Ling exclaims. 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) smiles at her members before turning around to face the judges on the middle. 

Chocol is one of the oldest and seasoned battlers they have, and Wolf’Lo doesn’t have a lose chip to their board yet, so, (Y/N) is prepared and had already accepted her fate that she lost this battle. 

“Fight judges,” Kang Daniel announces, “card open.”

It was a surprise that the judges seem to have their pick already and confidently, however, the result of the battle left everyone even more surprised. 

Three pink cards. 

(Y/N)’s hands flew to her mouth in shock, and this time, she actually fell to the floor in shock. Jam Republic immediately went to her side and cheered her on while Wolf’Lo nods their head in defeat but claps nonetheless. She makes her way towards Chocol to shake her hand, but before she can do that, Chocol takes her hand up to place a kiss on her knuckles, causing her to grin and flush bright red. 

Everyone who saw the interaction began teasing and cooing at the couple, some because of jealousy, others because of the *kilig. Well, most of them. A particular leader of the blue team scoffed loudly before chuging down the contents of her bottle before crushing the bottle with one hand. As she grumbles in her seat, her members are secretly watching her in amusement, never expecting their leader to act this way. 

“Thank you for the amazing fight, Chocol.” (Y/N) began, taking her hand back with a smile still painted on her lips. 

Chocol shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly with a smirk, stuffing her hands on her pockets. “Don’t worry about it, darling. I had fun.”

“Yah, what do you mean darling?!” Baby Sleek scolded playfully as she slaps the back of Chocol’s head and drags her back by her arm, causing the younger woman to pout. 

“Stop flirting with her and get back to our seats! “Darling,” your face.” Jam Republic just laughs at the dynamic of the orange team. 

The rest of the crews are still in shock that the first and only person so far to break the winning streak of Wolf’Lo is the ballerina of the pink team. 

“Wow, (Y/N) really is amazing.” Rena of Tsubakill said, still in awe of the Jam Republic member who is now currently walking back to their seats.

“She only had two battles so far and she’s already proving herself as one of the strongest dancers here.” Akanen replied. 

“Fight judge Monika, why did you pick (Y/N) as the winner of the battle?” Kang Daniel asked.

“I’m going to keep it short and frank, (Y/N) did not only dance, she told a story.” Monika says while looking at the dancer. “She told a story while embodying a well-known character of the movie which is insane because it’s as if you really are her for a second. You brought colour to the dance – no, you brought fire to the dance.”

Jam Republic claps at Monika’s comment. 

“(Y/N),” she adds, “you took me by surprise. You really are one of a kind.” 

(Y/N) swears she could sob at the high regard. She stands up and bows deeply towards Monika like she did too Mike Song. She then stands up 

“It’s like a main character moment,” Biggy said, watching as Kirsten place a win chip to their board. “Are we the side characters?” Lady Bounce laughed at her. 

As (Y/N) places the first and only lose chip on the board of Wolf’Lo, Baby Sleek reaches up her hand and pats her head. 

“Well done, (Y/N),” she says. “You really have gone far now. I’m proud of you.”

*kilig - causing or characterized by a feeling of exhilaration or elation.

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note: initialized names can't be tagged. I'm sorry 😭😭😭

next part >>>

[captainlondonman]

Skin Cage

Luke was desperate for a shit. He knew he’d never get home on time and he hated the idea of going into the bushes. As he rounded a corner to his relief he saw a public toilet set back slightly from the road. Generally these days they are all boarded up but he could see this one was open. He rushed in and saw that there were 3 cubicles but the one on the left and the right had a sign saying Out of Order and only the middle one seemed to be in use.

‘Thank God’ he said out loud. As he went to the cubicle he saw out of the corner of his eye two guys in jeans at the urinals but he couldn’t care what they might be doing as all he needed to do was have a crap. He shut the door and went to lock but the lock had been ripped off. Somehow he was able to sit on the loo and keep one foot pressed against the door.

After a few minutes he felt so relieved as he wiped himself clean. What he hadn’t noticed as he sat down and got on with his shit was that on each side of the cubicle was a hole in the partition. As he started to stand to hoist up his boxers he could see a shadow through one of the holes and a pair of shiny boots facing him on the other side of the partition. Seconds later a hard long cock was being put through the hole. Luke had heard about Glory Holes and cruising in toilets but had never had the experience. Sometimes when he had heard guys talk about it he had found his own cock stirring in excitement. Now here he was with a good 8 inch dick all the way through the hole. The head was fully exposed, the foreskin pulled back. It was gleaming with some precum showing. Luke pulled his boxers down to reveal his own erect cock.

Suddenly he heard a voice on the other side.

‘What the fuck are doing mate. Me dick is there for a suck, get your mouth around and make sure you give me a bloody good blow job.’

Luke was at once scared but also so worked up at the command and seeing  the prick waiting for his mouth. He got down on his knees, feeling the cold concrete pissed stained floor and tentatively put his hand around the cock.

‘Forget the fucking hand, gimme yer mouth.’

Still holding the end of the guys dick Luke put his mouth around the head and licked the precum.

‘Like the taste boy eh?’

Luke did like the taste and the smell of a prick that hadn’t been washed for a couple of days and he could taste some piss as well. He opened his mouth wider and let the cock slip down further into his throat. The size was perfect and there was no need to gag. He kept pushing his mouth further towards the partition until he was tight up against it with the guys cock all the way down.

‘You’ve done this before, boy, getting a cock all the way down that gob of yours. So start sucking. I want you to swallow all my cum. ‘

Luke slowly took his mouth back up the shaft savouring the smell of piss and let it guide itself back down. He was getting off on this this sleaze in a public toilet. Why had he never down this before. He was always afraid of cottaging but the thrill was so great.

‘Get yer mouth going up and down quicker mate, I’ve a load of spunk to get out of me balls.’

Hearing the guy sound so dirty made Luke slide his mouth ever faster up and down the shaft whilst keeping his hand firmly clenched at the opening. He could hear the guy grunting on the other side, and the more Luke sucked the more he could feel the precum in his mouth.

‘Yer a fucking horny little bastard,’ the guy said’ making me so ready mate. I’m about to explode my cum down yer throat.’

Luke could feel the guy pressing tight against the hole and he could feel the cock veins throbbing as he sucked.

‘Get ready boy its coming. Fuckin hell’ and with that as he pushed his cock back and forth against the hole so his balls erupted creamy cum all the way down Luke’s throat

‘Shit man that’s what I call cum. Yer fucking great boy.’

As Luke was wiping the cum off his chin he realised he had not wanked himself off and as he went to sit on the bog to masturbate he suddenly saw another rigid hard cock sliding through the hole on the other side and again a pair of shiny boots facing into the partition.

‘Hearin the noise of me mate coming boy, you can do the same for me. Sucking him was a good first but as you can see mine’s bigger and thicker and will just about choke yer fucking throat. Put yer hand round it first and feel the thickness and the size of these dick veins.’

Luke didn’t know what to do but seeing this massive dick being offered up to him made his cock so hard he thought he might cum without wanking

‘Lick me head first. I like the feel man before you gag.’

Luke let his tongue get covered in spit and slowly started on the head which was pink and shiny and like a helmet. Judging by the slit there would be a heap load of cum to swallow. Opening his mouth as wide as possible he started to let the cock enter his throat but at first the size was too much and he started gagging.

‘I told you boy. Relax a bit and you’ll find it goes in easier. Take yer time as I want to feel it go right to the back of your throat.’

Luke did as he was told and inch by inch he changed his breathing and the shaft went further and further in, sliding easily with all Luke’s spit which was spilling out his mouth and down his chin.

‘That’s better boy you’ve got the hang of it. Let me feel yer lips rubbing against this filthy partition. Let me feel as if it’s not there and your mouth is tight in against me pubes.’

Luke kept his hand over the end of the shaft so he could balance to take in the full length. He had never taken such a cock as this but its massiveness was such a turn on he wanted the full length. He was not going to miss out  and this time  his own load of spunk erupt. As he started to let his hand move up and down his own shaft so the need to take the full length of the guys cock was more desperate.  He was sliding his mouth up and down the shaft quicker and quicker and as he did so he hand worked his own good sized dick.

‘I know yer fucking wanking boy I can hear your breathing but shit mate its making me so fucking ready and that mouth of yours is the best suck I’ve had in ages. I want you to come at the same time and hear your jism. Go on spunk it boy I’m ready.’

Luke could not contain it any longer and as his own cum shot out splatting against the partition so he let out a mighty orgasmic sound.

‘That’s it boy I’m coming now.’

Whilst Luke’s spunk was still hitting the partition so the guy let rip an avalanche of cum almost choking Luke who could not swallow quick enough with great wads spilling down his chin.

The guy withdrew his cock and the boots moved away. There seemed quietness as Luke took out his hankie to wipe his chin and the remainder of his own cum from his cock. He leant forward to pull up his trousers and that was the last he remembered as he blanked out as something hit his head with such force.

As Luke had stood up the two guys had kicked the door with their boots with full force smashing into Luke’s head.

The next thing Luke knew as he started to come round was that he felt cold and could hardly move his head. Slowly his eyes began to focus and open more. He firstly realised that he was totally naked and in a cage. The reason he could hardly move his head was that there was a hole in the cage that allowed his head through but was too small for him to remove it. The room he was in was dark and smelt of piss and damp. His hands were free but as his head was clamped there was very little he could do. As he looked down there was a bowl of water that he could just reach to drink out of.

‘Christ my head is so sore. I must be bruised to hell and I can feel blood in my mouth. Where the hell am I? What have I done to deserve this? Someone has to hear me.’

Luke started shouting at the top of his voice

‘Help me, help me will someone come and get me out of this?’

After shouting for several minutes and starting to feel hoarse, there was a blinding light. For several seconds he could see nothing and before he could open his eyes there was a thundering noise over his head.

As he opened his eyes slowly the noise was as loud as ever. With the head still looking down he made out a pair of shiny black high laced boots. He felt he had seen them before, yes that was it he saw them under the partition in the toilet block.He was just able to look upwards as to what was going on above him.  A guy with a baseball bat was banging it over the bars, and thumping the bat up and down, grinning from one side of his face to the other.

‘Wakey wakey you cock sucker.’

‘Stop it, stop it please’ Luke screamed over the noise, his ear drums almost bursting.

‘Oh we have a nice little gay guy here don’t we. Stop it please,’ the guy said trying to imitate Luke.

‘Why have you done this to me?’

Another guy in the corner said

‘Well you gave us a great blow job we thought we would keep you a bit longer. But you need to change your look a bit mate.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A bit preppy for us.’

 Luke looked more closely at the two guys. He had noticed as he rushed in for his shit that both were wearing boots and jeans but had not looked enough.

The two guys were in tight fitting bleachers as if the bleachers had been sprayed on they were so tight and not just their legs and thighs but their cocks and balls showed a huge package stuffed down one leg. They both had their high boots , one with red laces and one with yellow. Both had braces to match their laces with black Fred Perry T shirts. One wore a green A1 jacket the other was black Their heads were shaved and one had a scar all the way down one cheek. Skin 1 and Skin 2.

‘Time to leave you in the dark for a bit but don’t worry we will be back every hour.’ And with that they turned off the lights and left locking the door.

Sure enough one hour later they came back each with their baseball bat and started thumping them across the bars of the cage

‘Stop stop for Gods sake stop.’ Luke screamed

‘You need to get used to this boy.’

Out they went and sure enough every hour they came back  and ran the bats across the bars.

‘This is fucking great. The boy hates it.’

After 8 hours of this they returned again and started up.

‘I’m fucking loving this mate,’ Skin 1 shouted as he beat the bars

‘Fucking stop that fucking noise now.’ Luke shouted.

The skins stopped immediately.

‘Now that’s what we want to hear, a big of aggro in the voice. Say it again.’

‘Fucking stop it.’

‘Good boy.’

‘Now what’s this I see boy. A nice big piss puddle you have made.’

Luke hadn’t noticed but the noise had made him so worked up that he had peed himself and his piss was in a puddle under him.

‘Yer luck’s in boy. We just downed a few cans of lager and both of us are desperate for a piss. Seeing you’ve just pissed yerself then you won’t mind some of ours. A right golden shower is coming your way.’

Skin 1 and 2 unzipped their bleachers and pulled out their cocks. Luke could see they were the two pricks he had so enthusiastically sucked earlier. They stood in front of Luke and took aim at his head with their cocks.

‘Fuck I have a right load of piss here for you mate.’

And with that they both let rip with a heavy stream of bright yellow piss aiming it at Luke’s head and face.

‘Drink it up boy. You loved our cum so swallow our piss.’

Luke could not move his head in the cage as a torrent of pee cascaded down his face. He had no option but to lick it as it poured over his lips. At first it tasted acidic but after some had gone down the back of his throat there was something about being a sub, unable to escape with so much piss that he found himself starting to swallow. The Skins seeing this made sure their stream was directed at his mouth.

‘He fucking loves it. As good as our cum eh boy? Shit look at his cock he’s getting a bloody hard on. Getting a bit more like us and Christ me cock’s starting a boner seeing him. Need to get rid of this pee first.’

Both the Skins shook their cocks and stuffed them back into their bleachers, Skin 1 having more difficulty as he was the one with the thick cock and now semi hard.

‘Got some work to do now. Go get the clippers mate.’

His mate went out the room and came back with a shaver, razor and shaving cream.

‘Your hair is now stinking of our piss so best for you if you get rid’

‘No please don’t do anything to my hair’

‘We’ll fucking do what we want. You ain’t got much option in that cage and don’t fucking shake your head while I have me razor on you.’

Skin 1 got down on his knees in front of Luke who knew he had to obey in his cage. He took the shaver and started on Luke’s head working from the back to the front. Luke could see his hair falling on to the floor and was helpless.

It seemed no time until most had been removed. Skin 1 then sprayed the shaving foam all over his head.

‘Need to get rid of all this fucking stubble you got there.’

Luke could feel the razor tight against his head and a couple of times felt the razor cut his scalp.

‘A couple of cuts wont do you any harm. In fact better for a skin.’

After half an hour Skin 1 sat back and looked

‘I’ve done a fucking great job there boy. Have a look. He walked over and picked up a mirror putting in front of Luke.

 ‘Oh my God I look just like the two of you.’

Fucking right mate what did you think. You’re gonna be one of us. Need to clean you up a bit. He walked over to the wall where a hose was hung on the wall. Unravelling he brought over to the cage and then walked back and turned on the water. He aimed the cold water at Luke at full power and Luke almost froze as the water splashed against him.

‘Stop please, I’m clean now.’

 The water was turned off

‘So now we are gonna leave you for a while. Time to get dressed. Your clothes are on that chair. I’m gonna unlock the cage and let you out. We’ll lock the door so you won’t be getting out. Luke could feel the cage door’s padlocked being undone and the padlock that had made his headstuck in the round opening.

Luke felt he had no strength to do anything and just laid  there at the open cage door.

‘See you later boy’ the Skins said as they went out locking the door

Luke slowly clambered out the cage feeling stiff and slightly disorientated. As he stood up, naked he saw clothes piled on the chair and in front a pair of high lace up boots, It all looked the same gear as the skins.

Luke was cold from the blasting of water and wanted to get into the clothes quickly no matter what he might look like. At the top of the pile was a black Fred Perry T shirt like the other two which was a tight fit but showed off his torso well. They must have had some idea of his size. Next the bleachers. He saw they had a zip back and front. As he pulled them on they were tight to his legs and thighs and as he pulled them up it felt good, so good that his cock started hardening. He pushed it down the inside of his leg making a large obvious bulge. The more it rubbed against the bleached denim the more it got bigger. He attached the black braces which seem to pull up the bleachers even more . ‘Christ what a package I have’ Luke thought staring down at his fully hard cock. He then pulled on the thick white socks which came up to almost his knees and sitting on the chair he forced his feet into the shiny black boots carefully lacing up as though he had done it many times before. Finally he put on the A1 green bomber jacket. He felt so great.

‘Where was that mirror?’ He picked it up from the floor and made sure he ran it over his body so he could see himself. Something suddenly snapped inside him. ‘I’m fucking Luke the skin.’  He had a large bruise down one side of his face from the cubicle door being rammed into him but now it made him even more like a  fucking rough skin. “No more fucking pansy boy for me. I’m up for some action and time those guys got what’s coming to them. He rubbed his crotch examining the bulge. Shit man just hope I can pull this out for my revenge.’

He heard the key turn in the door and jumped back behind it ready for anyone to walk in and be dealt with. Skin 2 marched into the room expecting to see Luke wandering around the space. Luke closed in behind quickly putting his arm around Skin 2 in complete stranglehold, the guy chocking and unable to release the vice like grip. His head was skewered back and he was desperately trying to get air as the grip tightened. The guys arse was tight against Luke’s boner and the slight rubbing made his dick even harder.

‘Not so much a fucking boss now are you. What did you expect doing all this to me and making me dress like you. You wanted a fucking skin and let me tell you mate you’ve got one and one much harder than you. Can’t talk can you. I’d like to fucking strangle you.’ Skin 2 could only splutter and was at the point of passing out.

‘Don’t fucking think about it mate’ Luke shouted as he pushed Skin2 towards the cage. With his other arm he pushed the skins head downwards until it was pressed against the bars of the cage.

‘Gonna make a nice imprint of these bars on that fucking face of yours.’ He then ran the arm over the guys arse.

‘Nice bum you’ve got there and you know what that for. Right a good fuck and I see you have a rear zip so you’ve had it done before. This time my cock will split that arse of yours.’

Luke quickly undid the zip and the bleachers immediately parted revealing a nice dark hairy arse. Luke gave it a couple of sharp slaps making the skin wince with pain.

 ‘Shit you little fairy that ain’t painful’ and with that he slammed his hand with full force over his buttocks. ‘I wanna see that arse of yours tingling red for my cock.’

‘So you ain’t moving much. What that means  it you do wanna be fucked. Now get your legs nice an wide.’

As the skin did what he was told Luke undid his zip and pulled out his cock which was straining inside as it was so hard.

‘To make it easier for you let me gob some nice spit down my shaft’ Luke said and he released a huge gob onto his cock and then he rubbed it.

‘That’s nice nothing better than a slimy cock ready to fuck.’

With one hand firmly of the skin’s back keeping him fully bent over the cage, Luke used his other hand to direct his cock into the crack and loosening up the hole with a couple of his fingers.

‘Christ that hole of yours is desperate for my dick and by the feel of it you have had a few cocks up there in the past.’

 Luke took both hands and spread the skins cheeks apart ready to ram his cock in. The hole widened and Luke’s head slipped in the skin letting out a squeal of pain.

‘Fuck it man it’s not even all the way in. Now this is. With one great push Luke pushed his cock all the way up to the hilt..

‘Nice and juicy that hole of yours. Hope for your sake there’s no shit in there. Can you feel my pubes right up against that hairy arse of yours?’

The skin squealed but a squeal of delight.

‘Knew you’d love that you fucking little whore.’

As Luke said that the door opened and Skin 1 walked in.

‘Well you’ve changed you hungry skin. You look the part. Knew you would when you walked in to that bog. You are right up there mate so let’s see you get the rythmn going and fuck him hard.’ As he said this he was rubbing his crotch which was now half way down his legs and bulging thick.

‘I remember that dick of yours. Go on get it out and let’s see you wank while I roger your mate.’

‘We’re all mates now boy.’

‘or a start you can bloody well stop calling me boy if that’s the case.’

‘Ok man give it to him

‘Seeing that meaty cock of your mate has me even more ready to shoot my load inside him.’

‘Then go on really slide it in and out.’

 Luke started ramming his prick in and out, faster and faster his breathing rapidly increasing, skin 2 grunting more and more, while skin 1’s hand was working his shaft faster having let a big gob of spit grease him up.

‘Ride him man, I’m ready’

With one final push Luke shot his hot spunk in fierce spurts right up Skin 2 arse. Skin one arched back and sprayed the floor with his cum. As Luke let Skin 2 move the bloke had come in his bleachers with a great wet patch showing and some cum oozing through.

‘That’s what I call a fuck man’ Skin 2 said.

‘You’ll have to stay here mate’ he said to Skin 2, ‘you cannae come out with all that cum showing on yer bleachers.’

‘So man stuff that dick back it but shake off the left overs first. We have a job to do.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Follow me we have to go and do some cottaging.’

The two went back to the same toilet where it had first all happened. This time Luke and Skin 1 stood facing the urinal. Skin 1 moved his hand over to rub Luke’s cock and it was no time until his shaft was a full boner.

‘That’s you ready now. You can go first.’

As he said this, so a young guy walked in and quickly looked at the two blokes at the urinal and went into the middle cubicle and shut the door.

‘I’m ready ‘Luke said unzipping his bleachers, ‘just hope he is’

 and the two walked into the left and right cubicle.

[cressidagrey]

Glorious Sunrise - Chapter 1

Summary:

So what happens after the mating bond snaps?

Well-meaning interfering family members, deep conversations and nights spent brooding on the roof like some kind of gargoyle…this one has it all.

Warnings:

Az the gargoyle, horrible self image

(thanks to @cafekitsune for the super pretty dividers!)

“You know, you could come inside…and not sit outside my window like a brooding gargoyle.”

It spoke of centuries of experience that Azriel didn’t fall off the fucking roof. 

He twisted around,  staring at Galena who had opened the window to her bedroom. She looked right back at him, her arms crossed.

Azriel wasn’t even sure what had brought him here that day. No, that was a lie. 

He did know what had brought him here. To say that his brothers had turned into mother hens was a fucking understatement. 

They wanted to talk. And talk they did. Constantly. 

Azriel had been made to talk about his own feelings more in the last few days than he ever had in his whole life before. 

So he came to sit on Galena’s roof, so he could pretend he was keeping her safe…could try to talk himself out of knocking at her door…could get some peace and quiet and…

And clearly, Galena had known that he was there… 

“You have been doing this the last three days. You know we have a front door,” she told him pointedly. 

Correction. She had known that he was there since he had first done it. 

Azriel didn’t know what to say to that. 

We told Master that! The shadows preened at that moment, rushing at Galena, enveloping her hands, caressing her cheek…doing everything that he wanted to do.

Being so sweet and doting to her. 

Shut up, he huffed at them, but they happily ignored him. 

Which left him to try and say…something. 

“I know,” he finally admitted weakly. He knew that. But ever since…ever since she had finally left the House of Wind, and settled back into the apothecary, since he had been healed enough that his brothers had decided that he was due a talking to… He hadn’t seen her since then. 

And so for three days he had let them do the talking and had come to perch on Galena’s windowsill before finally retiring to the House of Wind again. 

Because he couldn’t manage to ring the doorbell like a normal person and risk being turned away. 

“Come inside, Azriel,” Galena told him drily, her voice brokering no argument as she stepped back from her window. 

Go inside master! She told you to go inside!

So he slipped inside that window. 

He found himself in the attic of the building that housed Madja’s apothecary. The ceilings were sloped and it made it difficult for him to stand, his wings tucked in tight to his body…but of course, for Galena, small, slight Galena…this wasn’t a problem. 

He stared at the one big room with the one partition being what probably was her bathroom…with the bed tucked into one corner so that she could stare out of the window if she laid on it… the desk that was tucked under another window…the paintings and sketches that decorated the walls, a wild collection that covered everything from the beaches of Adriata to anatomical sketches of a fae body to botanical studies, pressed flowers in another frame…maybe the most startling thing: a collection of animal skulls laid on velvet and also mounted in a frame on her wall. 

A tiny kitchen was tucked in another corner… it consisted out of a sink and a stove and a kitchen table for no more than two people…a horrible mustard yellow couch, with books stacked on the coffee table…

He blinked at the amount of books in the bookcases lining the few free walls she had. 

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him. if Galena wasn’t working, that probably was what she did in her free time. Researched and read and let the books tell her the story…

But still…the whole room…the whole room somehow was Galena. Filled with knowledge and trinkets that she surrounded herself with, because this was where she spent all her time. So very tidy, because he had noticed how she absentmindedly started to tidy up around herself regardless of where she was, always so pristine and perfect…

Her in a nutshell.  

“What’s going on?” She asked him, meeting his gaze with both of her eyes, one brown, one milky white…she stood before him barefooted, wearing pyjamas, long trousers that covered her legs and a short-sleeved shirt that did nothing to hide the scars that covered her arms…they lessened the higher they went…around her biceps there where even small free flicks that weren’t covered in scar tissue at all. 

He was searching for the right words, shadows still swarming. 

“What’s wrong?” There was an edge to her voice now. 

“Nothing,” he blurted out and she stared at him as he took a step towards her. “I…I don’t deserve you,” he tried to explain and she snorted before she started laughing. 

“And that’s why you brood outside my window?” she asked him, chortling. “In what world does that make sense, Azriel?”

“I…I wanted to keep you safe,” he mumbled. He hadn’t quite thought this through. Mating instincts had been at war with…everything else of him, that constant thrumming of not being good enough, never feeling like he was good enough…unsure how to show her affection that wasn’t going to be turned down and… 

“You are ridiculous, you know,” she told him drily, before closing the gap between them and enveloping him in a warm embrace. She just so hit the middle of his chest if she hugged him like that. 

Ice and peppermint enveloped him and his shoulders softened as he allowed himself to put his arms around her. Somehow she made everything better. 

“I missed you,” Galena whispered softly, and it nearly broke his fucking heart…that he had done something to put that expression on her face and that tone into her voice…because he had been too foolish to simply knock at her door. 

“I missed you too,” he replied softly. He had. 

He had wanted to crawl inside her and never leave, regardless of how impossible that was. Still, it was what Azriel had wanted. 

“No more brooding on my windowsill. Come inside,” she told him pointedly, as she stepped back. So easy. She made it sound so easy. She made everything so easy for him. 

“Does the fire bother you?” She asked him, and only then he realised the crackling fire in the fireplace, keeping the place toasty warm. 

“No,” he promised her. “Do you want me to put another log in there?” He asked, not wanting her to have to move across the room with her bad leg. “Does it bother you?” He asked her suddenly. She had scars like him…did it bother her? It had taken close to a century until he had felt safe around fire again. 

“Oh no,” Galena assured him with a small smile. “These aren’t the result of fire. They are acidic burns. 

Acidic? 

“I’ll explain it to you, just not tonight,” she promised him. And then she held out her hand for him.  “Come to bed.”

His brain came to a screeching halt. 

Bed? 

Bed?

She must have realised where his brain had jumped to because her cheeks blushed bright red. 

“To sleep. Come to bed to sleep,” she clarified, her voice a squeak. 

Oh.

Right. 

He took the offered hand, let let her tug him towards her bed…made with perfect precision…white sheets and a couple of embroidered throw pillows on it. 

She was limping more than usual, but he chalked that up to the fact that it was the end of the day and that she wasn’t leaning onto her usual cane…but only his hand. 

She crawled into the far side, nearer to the window, staring out over the Sidra and he hesitated, not wanting to dirty her bed with his fighting leathers…

But then his shadows already dumped his pyjamas on the bed, nearly pointedly, and Galena laughed, the sound like a tinkling bell. 

“Seems like they agree,” she told Azriel with a grin, pulling the covers over her figure and then turning onto her side, away from him, giving him privacy. 

He stripped out of his leathers and only then realised that the shadows hadn’t even bothered with giving him a shirt. He was nearly certain that that had been on purpose, as they were happily hiding underneath the bed now, with one or two tendrils curling themselves in Galena’s hair.  

Azriel curled up behind her, until she rolled over to face him…without even saying a word, she started pulling her blanket over him as well. She didn’t even think twice about, about that caring gesture as she tucked him in…and then caught his hand with her equally scarred one, curling up with him. 

The fae lights blinked out, leaving them in darkness… strangely intimate even when they had shared a bed before….

Still, he couldn’t help himself as he stretched out his wing and brought it over himself to envelope her as well, making her giggle and move closer to him, tucking herself against his chest. The touch seemingly made every nerve ending in his body come alive. 

“I take it your brothers have done their best to talk to you?” She asked quietly. 

“Yes.”

“And I also take it that they didn’t succeed in making you believe that you deserve to be loved and included in things,” Galena continued, not a question. He tucked her head underneath his, resting his chin on her dark hair. 

“Why are you so smart?” Azriel asked her in a whisper, not even bothering to answer. Galena snorted. 

“I am really not. You are just easy to read,” she gave back, warm amusement in her voice. Her breath was warm and soft, puffing against his naked chest and he just so managed not to shiver.  

“I am the spymaster of this court,” he responded drily. 

“Easy to read for me at least,” Galena amended easily. “You know…it’s not a question about who deserves what . I can make my own decisions. And I would expect my mate to respect that.” She said that with the same exact, calculated way she did seemingly everything in her life. How the cut she had made in his chest was perfectly perpendicular to his ribs, the stitches perfectly even, an equal distance apart. 

It would quite possibly be the most beautiful scar he had on his body. 

“I will. I do,” he assured her. Azriel very much respected her and the decision she made. She was his mate. Of course, he did. 

“Then your reasoning is very much not sound,” she pointed out drily. “I told you I wanted to see you. And you…what, decided I lied to you?” She asked him and he couldn’t quite find the word to what exactly he had thought. He had been too much of a coward to knock at her door and be turned away. 

“I…I was…scared.”

Not an admission easily made by him. Not when fear had been burned out of him through training, through centuries of near death and danger. He wasn’t scared of many things. But he was of what she could do to him.

“Not of you but…of you turning me away.” 

“I will never turn you away.” Her voice was fierce, one hand worming itself around him as she hugged him to herself. “You’re my mate.” Such fierce, ferocious words from his little mate. “Mine.”

Hers. Always hers. 

He would gladly put himself at her mercy if she tucked him into her bed and held him… a kiss was pressed right over his heart. Soft lips make him shudder.

“Sleep, Azriel.” 

And sleep, he did.

Galena was better than any sleeping potion. 

He slept until dawn broke the next morning and even then only woke up because Galena moved out of his arms. 

He watched silently as she sat up, and then stretched her arms over her head…movements were choppy, a soft noise escaping her as she bent at the waist, folding herself in half. 

He knew how his own hands sometimes felt, bones and joints needing at least an hour to loosen if he hadn’t moved them in too long. 

“Good morning,” he finally said quietly as she sat up again and she twisted her head to see him. 

“Good morning,” she responded, moving her legs now, the movement of her right choppier than of her left…the right one was the one where she limped, where she used the cane to balance herself.  “Slept well?” she asked him curiously and he nodded.  

“What are you doing?” he asked her, wondering if there was another reason for that regime, of her twisting herself into half a pretzel before the day even started…now sitting straight backed the soles of her feet touching each other as she pushed down on her knees. 

“If I don't stretch ... I will regret it the whole day,” she answered him honestly. “I have problems in my leg and hip from childhood injuries. Which makes my spine act up because I can’t walk without the cane… which also hurts my shoulder. The whole body is connected,” Galena sighed. “I preach that to every patient and I am still annoyed at the same applying to myself.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the pout on her face at these words.   

There was a sharp knock at her door and he snapped around, but Galena didn’t even hesitate. 

“Come in, Aunt Madja.”

Oh great. Here he was, sitting in Galena’s rumpled bed without even wearing a shirt…and there was Madja opening the door and blinking twice at his appearance. 

“Shadowsinger,” her voice was just as bone dry as her niece could be on occasion. 

“Good Morning, Madja.” He did not squeak. He was 500 years old. He was not going to squeak. Or hold the bedding in a death grip on his chest.  

“Did you winnow in? The wards are supposed to stop that,” she asked him. He opened his mouth to respond, but Galena beat him to it. 

“No, he came in through the window.” Somehow she just made it even worse. Though her voice was calm. Even. 

“We have a front door,” Madja said pointedly. 

Why did he feel like a child again, being admonished by Rhys’ mother?  

“I told him the same thing,” Galena said brightly. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Breakfast is nearly done. You’ll eat with us,” Madja responded, not even bothering to wait for a response.

Still, Azriel stared after her form. He had known her for centuries, had seen her pull faes and faeries alike from the brink of death, had seen her amputate limbs and stitch wounds closed…but he had never seen her, like she was with Galena…that nearly maternal glint in her eyes. 

“Seems like we got our marching orders,” Galena quipped. 

And that was that. 

She needed longer in the bathroom, some kind of salve that she needed to rub all over her body so that the scars wouldn’t bother her for the whole day, he walked downstairs, into Madja’s private quarters. 

Lined with just as many books as Galena’s rooms, it was clear from where she had inherited her literary love. 

Madja was already seated at a bigger table, set for three, clearly where Galena and she had breakfast every day and took their meals…where Galena had been raised. 

She had been raised here for all her youth nearly, from Madja.

He didn’t know what exactly had happened…or when…she hadn’t told him that yet…and he didn’t know if he wanted to know what had happened to Galena to result in the scars that covered nearly all her body. 

Madja looked up, dark eyes, the same that Galena had also inherited, mustering him. 

“Shadowsinger,” she said drily. She didn’t normally call him that but clearly, centuries of knowing him were forgotten in the light of him being her niece’s mate. 

She had something to say to him…he knew that. 

“Shadowsinger is just as…title. My family calls me Azriel,” he responded carefully and she mustered him. 

“And I am your family now?” There was something akin to amusement in her voice at that. 

“Galena is my family,” he gave back. “She’s my mate. You are her family.” Madja was important to Galena. The one bit of blood family she was close to. So it shouldn’t…He was always going to try and get along with her because he didn’t want to put Galena into a situation, where she had the feeling that she needed to make a choice between him and Madja. 

“ I…apologise if I…” he started and then trailed off, blushing furiously, as he searched for the right words. 

“If you?” Madja asked him drily, letting him open his mouth and then close it again twice before she finally took pity on him. “We have a front door. There is no need to hide your relationship like that,” she finally said calmly. “Actually I would prefer it if you didn’t.”

He blinked.  

“Galena hides her whole self away. At least here, in her home , she shouldn’t need to hide a single thing,” Madja explained herself, her voice rough. “You are her mate. As long as you treat her well and do nothing that she doesn’t want, we will not have a single problem,” she promised him. “She wants you. That’s all that matters to me.” She was telling the truth. He could hear that, crystal clear in every syllable. 

“But... If you don’t…I have a full knowledge of Illyrian anatomy and I know what poison can kill you and make it look natural.”

He inclined his head. He didn’t doubt that for one moment. 

“Be gentle with her heart. She likes to pretend that she doesn’t feel…and I have fallen for that on occasion…but I think Galena feels deeper than most others.” 

[hbystuff]

Process breakdown #1

Here is a breakdown of the butterfly animation. This was originally posted as a twitter thread, but a real blog post seems to be a much better format for it.

Step 1: Static Drawing

I've long wanted to experiment with Bokeh effect in pixel art as a way to avoid drawing background. It ended up being a lot more challenging than just a normal background 😂. Still an interesting experiment nonetheless and I might use it for some other stuff in the future.

Step 2: Rough Animation

I traced the static drawing with a contrasting colour, then roughly sketched the other frames. Seeing it in motion made it clear to me that the form was very obviously incorrect, but I thought I'd adjust as I go.

Step 3: Refined Animation

Before I got to this point, I naively tried to put in the colour. I quickly realized making the "veins" look consistent would be very hard without guides. So I looked up pictures of actual Morpho butterflies to study the wings in detail. Also made the shapes (mostly) correct and doubled the frame count once I was happy with the shapes.

Step 4: Colours

This was the most fun part. I conceptualized the wings as two blue tinted, matte, textured mirrors rotating in 3D space. When two mirrors come together, they start reflecting each other. The closer they get, the less the lighting from the surrounding world contribute to the colours you see. Eventually, nearly no light from the outside world make into the gap and all you see is dark blue/black.

It started looking almost like mirrors as I figured out the rough movements of the reflections; then a shimmering mess of colours as I threw in more details from the static drawing. The key trick to making the complex colours look consistent was to pay attention to every "partition" of the wings to make sure the dark colours creep in and out smoothly.

I also gradually filled in the eye spots and details on the backside of the wings, not sure if many people noticed them but I was pretty happy with how they looked.

Step 5: Shadow

A big part of realism comes from how a moving object affects the lighting around it. In this case: the shadow on the flower. This is a rough version of the shadows as I worked on it. Wasn't too concerned about making it look 100% correct, since the wings probably catch all the attention anyway.

Step 6: Final Touches

I spaced out the movements so it didn't feel quite so frantic. Instead of using the last frame as the resting frame, I used the second last, and only briefly showed the last frame at the begging and end of the motion to add a bit of realism (although in reality, butterfly wings probably don't have enough mass for that to happen, but hey, 🤷‍♀️).

Also spent some time to reduce the palette down by merging similar looking colours. Also reused the darker, subtler yellow in the background to create the illusion of more flowers out of focus.

[pagannatural]

2.13 Houses of the Holy

- Religious plot begins in earnest. Sam is Able and Eve and original sin and also Christ dying for those sins. He is Dean’s disciple. Dean is Cain and Adam and the Holy Spirit and God. Their conflict is destiny/blood/family vs free will/choice/love, the pure vs the tainted vs the merely human. The muddy non-dichotomous nature of love and of good and evil.

So far the question of the brothers saving each other and the world has been self-contained: only Dean can save or kill Sam, and in doing so, himself. In other words only Sam can succumb to evil and damn his brother or retain his humanity and his brother. Their struggle is religious by definition. Religion in supernatural is characterized by the trinity of good, evil, and human, and the brothers are twin souls who need each other to stay human. Sam needs to overcome his shame and belief that he isn’t chosen, that he doesn’t belong; Dean needs to overcome his guilt and belief that he can never be enough. The threat of them losing their humanity and free will is literal as they will learn they’re destined to become vessels, but they don’t know that yet.

- Dean is lying on the motel bed listening to “Hair of the Dog”. Right when Sam walks in these lyrics are playing in his ears:

Heartbreaker, soul shaker/I've been told about you/Steamroller, midnight stroller/What they've been saying must be true

These lyrics pertain to Sam and his fate. This song was chosen very intentionally, it’s shown on Dean’s iPod screen. It’s foreshadowing. And Sam is Dean’s heartbreaker soul shaker.

Sam stands there next to a partition decorated with burlesque silhouettes of women, watching Dean’s body being shaken on the bed. It’s kind of a weird image. Dean looks like sleeping beauty the way the bed is lit. Or like a main course.

“You’re enjoying that way too much, it’s kind of making me uncomfortable” Sam says while looking up at the wall behind Dean exactly like he did when he was trying to avoid staring at Dean’s ass in an earlier episode. Very heaven-help-me.

His discomfort seems like attraction. I want to break down this scene because it’s played as a joke, like it’s funny that Dean is so hedonistic, but he’s essentially just using the massage function on the bed. He’s fully clothed and he’s listening to music, just chilling. He’s bored. So the joke is either that this isn’t really that intimate and yet Sam is so uncomfortable for Some Reason that he’s having a hard time looking straight at Dean, or that Sam really has walked in on an intimate moment and he responds by staring and going up to Dean all flustered and asking him to stop. Either way, Sam is watching Dean experience pleasure, and gulping because of it.

It highlights that Sam is uninterested in sex, and food, and pleasure in general, and it bothers him that Dean is. Sam later calls it Dean’s “sick habit” and tells him he’s like one of those lab rats that pushes the pleasure button instead of the food button until it dies.

I noticed recently that even in the pilot, Sam is shown kissing Jessica and acting loving with her, but the shot of them in bed has them apart and Sam facing away from her in his sleep. It’s Dean who ogles her in her underwear. Sam has been shown clinging to Dean, sleeping facing him, checking him out, and chastising him for his womanizing. The one woman he kissed was for Dean’s benefit. Sam’s relationship with his sexuality is consistently shown linked directly to Dean. Maybe exclusively to Dean at this point.

After this exchange, Sam goes into the bathroom and washes his hands for Some Reason. Because he’s feeling unclean?

-interesting how the killers’ houses shake like there’s an earthquake before what they think is an angel appears to them- the second guy is even lying on his bed when it starts shaking. Dean is on his shaking bed when Sam appears to him at the motel, like Sam is his angel.

-Dean says Sam has him on lockdown. So Sam insisted that Dean stay back for his safety. He’s looking out for him, always asking Dean to stay safe.

-Sam believes in angels and god because of the monsters they hunt, Dean doesn’t believe in angels or god because of the monsters they hunt. The difference in the way their beliefs developed is that Dean believed in angels as a small child until his mom burned to death and he learned monsters are real, whereas Sam was certainly never encouraged to believe in religion and had to find something to cling to in the chaos and uncertainty of how he was raised. Sam felt unclean or like something was wrong with him so he tried to separate himself from the monsters. Dean believed he wasn’t good enough so he chose not to believe in a god that was a disappointment and that he believed he would surely disappoint.

- Sam tells Dean he prays every day, which Dean didn’t know. He acts like this is some kind of betrayal. I think the betrayal is literally just that he didn’t know and he wants to know every single thing about Sam.

-Sam collapses after seeing what he thinks is an angel, and Dean gets on his knees to put both hands on him. He keeps touching him when they’re walking out. He hauls Sam to his feet bodily.

This frame is so good because Dean is glaring at the angel statue and Sam is looking up at Dean.

Sam wants to be chosen by an angel. He thinks that would mean he’s good. He felt left behind and second-best by his dad, and felt that Dean would choose hunting and John over him for much of his life. He realizes now that Dean chooses him.

-Dean makes sure the woman he saves is okay and has a cell phone and tells her to call 911 before he runs after her assailant. He cares more about the wellbeing of the victim than he does about catching the bad guy.

-when Sam says “you were right” Dean gives him this look that’s so full of love, it’s plain that Dean doesn’t care about being right. He just sees his little brother in pain and wants to make it better.

-Sam sits down so that he’s looking up at Dean during their conversation. He has tears in his eyes talking about wanting to be saved. Dean tells Sam “I’m watching out for you”

Sam doesn’t doubt Dean’s dedication to him and desire to protect him. But doesn’t think Dean can save him, and more importantly he’s afraid he can’t save himself. He sees Dean as fundamentally good and strong but he also harbors judgment toward Dean for needing him. It’s protective for Sam to not need anyone, which is why his arc deals with the isolation of shame. Religion can’t save him because it doesn’t make him believe he is good, and because ultimately it leaves him alone.

-Dean tells him that he witnessed “God’s will” the way that the perp was just killed in front of him. He’s letting himself hope and giving Sam hope. They’ve both seen so much chaos and evil, they need to believe there’s good and meaning in the world. Dean’s doubt challenges his beliefs about the world and himself, and it’s his words that give Sam the hope he needs.

-episode is about lost souls and purpose. A series of people who the show depicts as lost are given a sense of meaning and belonging to something bigger than themselves, but the problem is that they don’t question it—they simply obey, acting as if without free will. They’re wrong, but they’re happy and full of certainty. Sam and Dean are lost too, but they’re unable to have blind unquestioning faith. The result is that they do good: Dean protects and shows kindness to a woman who was attacked, Sam facilitates a way for a spirit to be put to rest. But they have doubt, which means they also have fear. And they’re left knowing that they have themselves and each other. It’s meant to be complicated and frightening and painful because that’s what it means to be human, and that’s where love and compassion live.

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 22 (finale)

Holy shit...now what?

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of unsupportive family members. Thanks again to the Sims for determining the outcome of this pregnancy. Mentions of breast feeding (a fed baby is a happy baby, no matter where it comes from!). Mentions of being in pain and on pain killers (C-section). Hospital setting but it's not too obvious. Mention of drinking wine. Like one swear word. Not proofread (what a surprise). Word count: 4,256 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This is it! The last chapter! Thank you again to everyone who has read, commented, and reblogged any parts of this fic along the way, even when I took a 3 month break. It's been an experience writing this, but I've enjoyed every second of it 😊

Also, the poll figures showed that you mostly thought the twins would be girls!

Part 21 ● Series Masterlist

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the sting in your abdomen from your Caesarean wound and fresh stitches, where the painkillers were starting to wear off.

The second thing you notice is that it’s still dark outside, meaning it’s either very late at night, or very early in the morning.

The third thing you notice is, although it’s dark out, your room is softly illuminated by a small lamp in one corner of the room. You see Santi sat in the chair in the corner, looking down at the bundle in his arms, who was sleeping soundly, the second bundle sleeping equally as soundly in the plastic hospital bassinet by you.

You slowly sit up in your bed, hissing at the pain in your abdomen. You see Santi from the corner of your eye look over at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Do you need me to call for a doctor?” he whispered, still sounding too loud in the quiet room.

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay.” Santi nods at you before turning back to the baby in his arms. You watch them for a minute, a fond smile on your face before you ask, “Is she okay?”

Santi gives his own smile before nodding. “She was fussing a little, but she went right back to sleep.”

You nod, looking at your new family.

Your daughters (daughters!) came into the world screaming and kicking. Isabela María, named after Santi’s mother, was born at 7:03pm, weighing 5lbs and 7oz. Her identical sister, Jasmine Terese, followed no more than six minutes later, entering the world at 7:09pm at 6lbs exactly. Dr Montgomery was impressed with their weights and sang your praises as she held them over the partition to show you each time, and they were the most perfect things you had ever seen. You had immediately burst into tears as soon as you saw the two of them.

They both had a head of dark hair, thanks to their daddy, and even as they scrunched their little faces as they cried, you thought they were the most beautiful things to have ever graced your life. Once they were measured and checked over, and wrapped up in some blankets, Dr Montgomery had them brought over to you and Santiago (who had been quietly sobbing to himself, but you’ll pretend you never noticed until the day you died).

The next hour or so was a blur to you as you were stitched up and the twins were taken away to the NICU for monitoring, to see how well they were breathing. With some reassurance from yourself that you would be fine, Santi never left the girls’ sides, keeping a watch over them. You saw him sneak some photos of the girls on his phone, looking like a proud dad.

You were wheeled out of theatre and were heading back to you room where you sent a text message to your friends, explaining that your babies were sent for monitoring. Santi was with them, and if they wanted to wait, they could, but it might be better for them to come back tomorrow. Your friends came to see you anyway, just for a few minutes, where Beth was FaceTiming Gabrielle to keep her in the loop.

As soon as Beth and Courtney saw you, they burst into tears, making their way over to you and enveloping you in a hug, telling you how proud they were of you and how amazing you did. You fought back tears of your own, telling them that you had had girls, which they both somehow cried even harder at, commenting on how you were all convinced you were having boys.

After some more fussing, and Courtney gathering her things, they promised that they’d be back the next day to meet them, and they would bring you some food from home because they knew how terrible hospital food was. You give them a goodbye, telling them to let Santi’s friends know that he wasn’t going to be out for a while, to which Courtney said that Santi had already text his friends to let them know to come back in the morning, and the guys left not that long ago. Knowing them, they’d be back the next day too.

Santi was back within an hour of your friends leaving with Dr Montgomery, wheeling your girls (your girls!) in their bassinets. Dr Montgomery gave you a smile, telling you that your daughters were perfect, that there were no issues, and you would probably be home in the next few days. You thank her profusely, before you and Santi are finally left alone for the first time as a new family. Santi dressed the twins which took longer than it should have (“They’re delicate! Have you seen the size of them!?”), and your heart fluttered in your chest at seeing them in their little outfits, looking soft and cosy.

A breastfeeding consultant was sent to your room to guide you through your first feed with your daughters, who took to it like a duck to water. You wanted to cry with pride, since they were doing so well already, being barely two hours old. You saw Santi look away with a slight blush on his face, causing you to smirk and make a quip about how he’s seen you naked (to which he gave you a look before turning away again, to strip out of his scrubs). He made a comment about going getting his overnight bag from the car, and quickly making his way out.

You felt a little bad that he felt uncomfortable around you still, but it was something you would both just have to work on.

Which brings you to now, where you watch Santi from his place in the armchair, holding Isabela as she slept. You frown at him. “Have you gotten any sleep at all?”

Santi hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not yet.”

“Santi,” you gently chastise. “Put her down and get some sleep.”

He shook his head, looking up at you. “No, I’m fine. Besides, what if she needs me again?”

Oh, be still your beating heart.

“I’m sure she’ll wake us up if she needs anything, and Jasmine,” you say gently.

With a final look at Isabela, Santi gives a sigh before carefully standing and taking her to her bassinet. He stands at the bassinet for a moment, just looking at her before he gently places her down. She made the smallest whimper before settling back to sleep with a big sigh. He slowly moves her bassinet to join Jasmine’s, before stopping and looking down at them both.

Santi doesn’t move immediately, just staring at his daughters, before he finally breaks the silence in the room.

“I can’t believe I almost gave this up,” Santi said quietly, sadly, without looking away from your babies.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavy with the weight of Santi's confession. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a mixture of regret and self-doubt as he uttered those words that seemed to hang in the air like a cloud of uncertainty, and you felt your heart break for him.

As you shook your head gently, your eyes met his. “Don't...don't think about that, okay?” you murmured softly, with a mixture of understanding and compassion. “You're here now.”

The silence lingered. Santi's gaze shifted, descending upon the tiny figures nestled in their bassinets, their innocence a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions swirling within him. “I was in special ops,” he says, his voice tinged with just the smallest hint of disbelief. “And that was less scary than this.”

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, the admission of his innermost fears laid bare before you. With a sympathetic gaze, you say, “Being a new parent isn't something that people just know what to do,” you reassured him gently. “We'll learn as we go, and it's okay to be a little scared.”

As you looked at Isabela and Jasmine, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, a beacon of hope amidst his darkness of doubt. “They'll be so happy you stayed,” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “They're going to love you, so much.”

Just as much as I love you.

You swallow against the words, knowing now isn’t the right time.

A fragile smile graced Santi's lips at your words, where he gives you a quick glance before his gaze falls back on the sleeping forms of his daughters, the most fragile beings in the entire world. Damn, no-one warned him they’d be so tiny. They were so peaceful and asleep, and they were so small! They were the most fragile things in the world. There was no way he was letting anything happen to them. They had to stay little forever so he could do everything for them.

“I want to be the father they deserve,” he confessed, his voice tinged with a newfound resolve. “To be the man they can look up to.”

“You already are,” you assured him, your words almost stern. He looks up at you, his eyes intense. “I know you’re doubting yourself, but you’ve got a great support system; you have me, Frankie, Will, and God knows Benny is already in love with these two.”

Santi gave a snort of amusement. “He’s gonna cry as soon as he lays his eyes on them.”

You give a small laugh before looking at him again with a soft look on your face. “You know, when you left after saying you didn't want to be involved...it hurt. It hurt more than I can put into words," you began, your tone mix of vulnerability and strength. “I felt abandoned, alone, and completely overwhelmed, but I was determined to do it alone, for our girls.”

Santi tenses, a look of shame overcoming him, but you continue before he could say anything.

“But you came back," you say. “And for that, I'm incredibly grateful. I’m happy that you chose to step up, to be here, to be a father to our kids.” You smile at him, seeing his shoulders relax a touch. “Though I’m still a little pissed that you left, I'm also thankful that you came back. I’m glad that we can navigate this crazy, beautiful mess together.”

Santi give a small chuckle before he reaches out to you, and you reach out to hold his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, for leaving. For making you feel like that, after everything we’d been through to get here,” he said. “I’m going to live with the guilt for the rest of my life, but fuck, knowing I made the right decision to come back was so worth it.”

And in that moment, amidst the commotion of your new reality, you finally felt a sense of unity with Santi, even if it wasn’t in the way you wanted. You don’t know what the future held for the two of you, if you’d ever admit your feelings for him, of if you’ll eventually move on and find someone else, but despite that, you were bound together by the unbreakable bond of parenthood, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

However, in that fleeting moment, amidst the silence of the early morning hours in that hospital room, there was a small feeling of hope, slowly blossoming like a fragile flower.

“Watch her head, Benny.”

“I know how to hold a baby,” said Benny, giving Will a firm look before his expression softened as he looked down at Jasmine, who was sleeping soundly after you had just fed her and Isabela.

Isabela was settled in the arms of Frankie, who was lightly swaying as he grinned at the bickering brothers. Santi had left the room to take a phone call with his sister, Mariana, who had been checking up on him every few hours and was trying to organise a day where she and his other sister, Carmen, could come and visit and meet you and the kids. He was trying to put her off for at least a few weeks, until there was some sort of routine.

After your talk during the very early hours of the morning, Santi had decided to stay at your place, to help with the girls why you recovered, just until you were back on your feet. You’d protested, telling him that he really didn’t have to that, that you’d need him to do that, but he immediately shot you down. You tearily looked at him and thanked him, before Jasmine had started crying, to which Santi had no hesitation in picking her up.

“How you holding up?” Frankie asked you, still swaying Isabela. You weren’t sure if he knew he was doing it or not. “You know, after the whole…”

He goes quiet, nodding his head towards the door where Santi had walked out of. You smiled at him. “I’m doing okay. Glad he pulled his head out of his ass in time.”

Frankie grinned. “Took a bit of a verbal beating from us, after he told us he was leaving. The fucking idiot – oop, sorry.” He pulled a sheepish face as he looked down at Isabela, who had eventually fallen asleep during Frankie’s swaying.

You gave a small laugh of amusement as Benny looks up from Jasmine. “Your girls been yet?”

You shrug at him. “Just Beth. She came this morning with Georgia, they left not long before you got here. Gabs and Courtney are gonna come by later when Courtney’s finished work. Gabs has the kids again.”

Benny seemed to stop for a moment, in thought, before he finally nodded and turned back to Jasmine. You don’t ask him why he asked about your friends, you just assume he was being friendly since he was sat with Beth and Courtney in the waiting room last night.

When Beth had arrived that morning, she’d immediately fawned over your children, bursting into tears at how ‘beautiful they were’, and congratulating you and Santi. She’d even given Santi a hug, then threatened him to never leave you after the first time. He’d admitted he was an idiot, and it wouldn’t happen again. She’d accepted that answer, but still gave you a look as she picked up Jasmine for a cuddle.

After a while, as she and Georgia swapped the twins around, she’d asked about your family, and if you’d told them you’d had the babies. You paused before you eventually shake your head at her, telling her that they hadn’t bothered to respond to your messages or contact you at any point during your pregnancy, so you decided to just…let it go.

Even if it tore you up inside.

At least you weren’t crying about it anymore.

Beth had pulled a face and told them it was their loss anyway, that they’re going to be missing out on knowing the best little girls around. You agreed with her.

Santi made his way back in the room, hanging up his phone. He sighed, before running his hand through his hair. “So my sisters will be arriving next week.”

“Ay, hermano,” said Frankie, smirking. “Grow a backbone.”

Santi wordlessly gave Frankie a gentle swat on the arm, being careful of Isabela, before leaning down to you and giving you a quick peck on the forehead. “Sorry I was gone so long, corazón, Carmen wouldn’t get off the phone.”

You ignored how your heart leaped at the feel of his lips on you. You weren’t going to think too hard about it, it was just because of the babies, it has nothing to do with you. You’re the mother of his kids, he’s going to be affectionate with you, especially when you had just given birth. He was just being nice. Protective.

Like you said, you weren’t going to think too much about it.

“I’ll get her and Mariana to stay at my place,” he said.

“You don’t have to stay at my place, Santi, really – “

“No, stop fighting me on this, I’m helping out with the girls.” Santi gave you a stern look. “You can barely walk, I’ll stay, it’s fine.”

Frankie gives you an amused look over Santi’s shoulder, and you felt the urge to stick your tongue out at him. You end up looking back at Santi, before giving a shy smile. “Okay.”

He grins at your relenting. “Thank you. I’m trying to make it up to you for being a dick to you, but you’re being too nice.”

“You weren’t – “

“No, he was,” said Will before you could finish your sentence, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was a dick.”

“The biggest,” agreed Benny, looking away from Jasmine to nod at you.

“Okay, okay,” Santi called, holding his hands up in surrender. “Not in front of my girls, please.”

You watch in amusement as Santi get’s ribbed by his friends, but he gave just as good as he got.

As the banter between Santi and his friends continues, you can't help but feel a warmth in your chest, seeing the camaraderie and genuine connection they share. Despite the teasing and playful jabs, there's an underlying bond that speaks volumes about their friendship. You know that your girls were going to grow up to be the most protected kids in the world.

In that moment, you realize how far you’ve come in the past few months; to an unplanned pregnancy and finding the love of your life (even if he doesn’t know it), and growing yourself as a person (and growing two persons of your own!). As you gaze around the room, your heart swells with gratitude for the connections forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances. How you truly know who your family is, and a part of them are in this very hospital room.

The guys leave after another hour, telling you that they were happy to help you out whenever you needed, before they were herded out the door by Santi, saying you needed rest since your friends were arriving later.

You bask in the suddenly quiet room after Santi closes the door after him. You look at Isabela and Jasmine asleep in their bassinets. Santi soon came back in the room, smiling softly at you before checking over the girls. “You okay?” he eventually asked you, digging around in his bag for a moment.

“Yeah. Tired,” you replied.

“Get some sleep, I can look after them,” said Santi. “But first…”

He pulled out a familiar paper bag from his bag, and a small box. You look at him curiously. “Is that the bag that Frankie bought?”

“After Ikea? It is,” he said, perching himself next to you on the bed. He passed you the bag. “I had these commissioned by Sarah when I found out we were having girls, which was why you couldn’t look at them. Then when we finally decided on names, I had her change them a little.”

You open the bag, pausing before tears fill your eyes. You give him a watery smile before you pull out the two matching, pale pink, and lavender patchwork blankets, decorated with embroidered white and yellow flowers. You run your fingers over the stitching, feeling how soft the blankets were. You look over them before your gaze lands on the bottom corner, where you trace your fingers over their names that had been embroidered in the corners. “Santi, these are gorgeous. I’m scared to use them!”

“Stop, they’re supposed to be used,” he said. “Even if they puke all over them, or other bodily fluids.”

You laugh at that.

“And these,” he said, handing you the box. “Are for you.”

You take the box, which fit in the palm of your hand. You recognised it immediately, and you opened them to see the two charms, in the letters I and J, with a red gemstone in each of them.

“Garnets,” he said.

“January birth stone,” you said, smiling at him as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You laugh at yourself. “I am far too emotional for you to be giving me things like this.”

“Stop, I planned to give these to you, I want to give these things to you,” he said. “I need you to understand that I made a bad judgement and a stupid mistake, and I’ll be trying to make things right for the rest of my life, for you and our girls. You’re important to me.”

You swallow against your tears, but you sob anyway, giving a watery smile. “You’re important to me too.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, bringing you into his arms gently.

And you believed him.

“Careful, careful!”

“I am being careful, Santi,” you say, making your way towards your house from his car (his car!).

“I’m going to have to level these flags out, they’re a trip hazard – “

“You will do no such thing, Santiago, not with your knees,” you say to him, raising your eyebrows at him, daring him to challenge you.

He mutters something in Spanish as he carries the car seats containing your girls, who had fallen asleep from the movements of the car, to your front door, where he unlocked it and stepped in.

You had finally been discharged from the hospital, and you were able to go home. It had been a trying afternoon, with lots of tears as you tried to manoeuvre yourself with a C-section wound, and two very needy babies who just wanted to be on you all the time. You had to take a time out getting to the wheelchair, where Santi did his best to calm the girls, and to calm you.

Eventually, you made it out of the hospital and into Santi’s car, where he’d wrestled a little bit with the car seats before finally having the girls secure safely in the back of the car. Once you were settled in, Santi proceeded to drive well under the speed limit on the way back to your house. He glared at anyone who even gave him a funny look for driving so slowly, which made you giggle and make the quip that he could drive a bit quicker.

“No,” he’s said firmly. “You’re delicate, and they’re delicate. I am not driving any faster.”

You followed Santi into your house, where he was taking the girls out of their car seats. Gabrielle had been over to your house that morning, on your request, to arrange your house a little for your arrival. She’d bought some playmats down from the girls’ bedroom, and set up their bassinets in the living room so you didn’t have to tackle the stairs as soon as you got home.

Santi settled your babies in the bassinets before sighing, seemingly glad that everyone was safe and sound. “I’ll go and get our bags from the car, and we can have some dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

“Sushi,” you reply with no hesitation.

Santi gives an amused snort before nodding. “Sushi it is.”

“And I might have a teeny tiny glass of wine,” you say, grinning. “Just a small one.” You put your thumb and forefinger together, with just a tiny gap between them.

Santi laughs. “You deserve it.”

He disappeared outside, getting the bags from the car. You gently lower yourself down on your couch, sighing in relief as you get off your feet. Dr Montgomery had prescribed you some painkillers for you C-section for as and when you needed, and you know it’s going to be a tough recovery but with Santi’s help, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

He comes back in the house, laden with bags, before he sets them down by your front door, and closes it. He takes a look around your living room properly, saying, “You’ve made this place pretty nice.”

“I had a lot of time on my hands last week,” you say. “I needed something to do.”

Santi nodded, before his eyes drift over to Jasmine, who started fussing in her bassinet. As you went to stand, he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and pushed you back down, before pulling his phone from his pocket, handing it to you. “Here, have a look at what you want to eat, I’ll settle her.”

You take his phone and thank him as he made his way over to Jasmine, cooing at her, asking her what’s wrong as he lifted her from her bassinet. He set about to change her diaper. You scroll through the food app for a moment before your eyes drifted over to him, admiring him without his knowledge.

You felt happy. Content. This wasn’t what you imagined your life would turn out like, and sure, you and Santi did things a little unconventionally, but you wouldn’t change a thing. Everything worked out in the end, even if Santi did have a wobble about becoming a dad, even if your feelings for him will go unsaid and kept to yourself. You were okay with that, as long as he was there for your girls.

You sigh as you smile at the scene before you, of Santi telling Jasmine about his early days in the army, how he met Uncle Frank, and how loved they already were. Even though you did everything backwards with Santi and your girls, you look forward to the next chapter of your life and couldn’t wait to see what it brought.

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

[fatkish]

Aizawa x Autistic Cat Quirk Reader 2/3

(Again artwork is not mine, I found it on Pinterest)

The link for part 1 can be found below

(Now let’s continue)

After the Boss’s wife took charge and interfered with (read as: lovingly made sure your socially awkward and shy ass wouldn’t pass up a perfectly good chance to get with a ‘handsome and sexy man’) your love life and set you up for a date with the scruffy yet handsome Pro, Aizawa texted you two weeks after the exchange asking you out to lunch on a Saturday.

After freaking out and panicking for a good 30 minutes worrying about what to write back you texted back a thumbs up emoji followed by “yes”

Aizawa gave you the details for what day and time he’d come pick you up two weeks before your planned date and told you not to stress about anything and that if you were more comfortable meeting up outside the cafe then he’d be happy to pick you up there.

Needless to say two weeks went by fast and you couldn’t sleep that Friday night and started getting ready 5 hours before you were supposed to meet. You did your hair after taking a shower and put just a bit of makeup on to hide your tiredness and to accentuate your eyes. You dressed up in cute and semi-fancy outfit that was still comfortable and made sure to bring your keys, wallet, phone and your preferred fidget.

After you and Aizawa met up he took you to a food stall and got you something to eat and then took you to an Aviary/Aquarium.

After you got your tickets and entered the place you latched onto his arm sticking to his side. Due to the various stimuli and being in a new environment you were rather nervous and anxious. When Aizawa saw this he took a pamphlet with a map of the facility and led you through the place guiding you so you didn’t have to think or take in your surroundings, just walk and he’ll guide you.

After some time of walking and dissociating from your surroundings, Aizawa led you to the Kelp Forest exhibit. When he told you to look up you were greeted with this

(Picture of Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Kelp Forest Exhibit. Picture courtesy of google. This is the only big Aquarium I’ve ever been to and can be found in Monterey Bay California. If you visit the Aquarium’s website you can see live cams of the exhibits. Also most of this date is going to be heavily based off my experience at the Aquarium)

The view was amazing and and the lighting made it look magical. Your eyes pupils dilated as you took in everything. You walked up to glass and watched as small schools of fish swam passed, lager fish swam and maneuvered through the giant stalks of kelp. Small sharks passed by as you took it all in.

The sight of everything made your mind go blank as you watched in awe. All your anxiety vanished as you watched the kelp sway.

Aizawa walked up to you and simply observed your reaction happily watching you fixate on the large exhibit.

After a few minutes you grabbed his hand without realizing and began moving onto the next aquarium in the exhibit. You guys saw octopi, various different kinds of fish and invertebrates and even got to learn about the Kelp Forest environment and all the animals that take part in this ecosystem. You pointed out the moray eels and their faces staring them in the eyes.

After a bit you guys went to the next exhibit which was the coast line.

You guys walked through the small shark exhibit and the sea bird exhibit that showed different kinds of birds and where they nest. (Aizawa had to pull you away to keep you from jumping over the glass partition and hunting down the birds)

Next you both moved onto the tide pools exhibit where you could pet the stingrays and touch the various creatures that are found in the shallow tides such as starfish, various sea weeds, sea cucumbers, purple sea urchins, small sea anemones, decorator crabs and other small creatures.

Aizawa used this as an opportunity to get insight on what kind of textures you do and don’t like. He even chuckled whenever you got excited and your tail began to sway.

After that you guys moved onto the Splash zone. This exhibit showed you how the waves interact with the coastal rocky landscape and how the animals react and what it looks like.

When the wave mechanism for the splash zone dumped the water to imitate a crashing wave you jumped and grabbed onto Aizawa and tried to scurry away only for him to hold you in place and wrap his arms around you.

After calming you down from being spooked you both walked outside onto the overhanging balcony and outside theater. You both walked over to the railing and looked off into the distance seeing the coastline and the far off boats.

When you went back inside you guys went to the jellyfish exhibit. The tranquil atmosphere and nearly thoughtless movement of the brainless creatures was almost enough to put you both to sleep. You both moved on before you could fall asleep in the middle of the exhibit.

The next exhibit was the open ocean. In a giant tank there was hammerhead sharks, giant tuna, sea turtles, various kinds of rays, a few sunfish and different kinds of sharks.

At one point you fixated on a particular fish and followed its movements and even tried to grab at it when it swam by only for you to remember there was thick glass separating you. Aizawa took a short video on his phone recording your little experience.

The same thing happened when you saw the anchovies and Aizawa had to hide his laugh as you circled the round tank chasing a particular anchovy without realizing what you were doing.

After the open ocean you both went to the tropical exhibit where various different types of fish and corals where on display.

You guys talked about how interesting it would be to take a field trip with his students to the place to learn about the various environments and potential hero-ing and how to handle certain situations.

When you entered the tentacles exhibit you got to see various types of cuttlefish and other cephalopods. Aizawa told you about his one student who would probably enjoy this exhibit.

After that, it was The Deep. This exhibit was designed to show off how the aquarium used its research and technology to explore the sea floor.

Here you got to take a look at what the researchers found and what it’s like to take a dive in their research subs and what kind of stuff you’d see.

Here you were able to see creatures like wolffish and other deeper water inhabitants.

You suggested to Aizawa that it would be a great opportunity to exercise different types of underwater rescues and different types of situations where his students would be in a similar environment and how to go about it.

The more you talked about it the more Aizawa began to see the potential for you to be a teacher. Or at least a guest speaker. As you continued to spew word vomit about the topic he realized how important it would be for his students to understand and gain experience interacting with people who were Neurodivergent and had similar disabilities and cognitive difficulties/differences than them.

After that you guys went to the penguin exhibit as you continued to come up with different situations for his students to learn from.

At the end of the day the last exhibit was the sea otter exhibit. You both watched the otters play and dove into the water. After a bit you realized you had been talking most of the time and had genuinely forgotten to keep boundaries in line.

Fearing that your display of your natural personality would be a turn off for Aizawa and that you ruined any chances of getting together with him you began apologizing rapid fire.

Aizawa was quick to reassure you that he had a good time and would love to continue to get to know you. He told you that he didn’t mind your Autistic tendencies as well as your feline behavior.

After you guys left the aquarium you both decided on a time to meet up again and have dinner.

Aizawa made sure to walk you home as you rubbed your face against his arm.

Once you got to your door you turned around and pounced on Aizawa catching him off guard and nearly knocking him over. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and nuzzled your cheek against his head. Aizawa smiled and scratched you behind the ear as you purred and began grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and kneading it.

After you said goodnight you closed and locked your door and immediately went to bed having drained your social and mental battery.

That night you slept well and Aizawa smiled as he headed to his house to get ready for patrol.

That’s it for part 2 and I plan to make a third. Thank you for all the likes and hope you guys enjoy this one too.

(Sorry @atsukawolfcat if I didn’t tag you. I don’t know how but I hope this is right)

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 48

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Took you long enough.”

AO3

Spotify

After you looted what you could of the armory—more water bottles, granola bars, a pair of barely-used combat boots, a pistol, and a tactical shotgun—you were ready.

“Do you know how to use that,” 079 asked as you holstered the pistol into a gun belt clipped around your waist. Even with only a single tone, the computer SCP still managed to sound both mocking and unbothered.

You fumbled a little as you picked up the shotgun and began to feed it 12-gauge shells.

“Sure. I’ve watched American TV shows.” Your lips pressed together hard enough to ache. “And I’m done dealing with 035’s shit. I see him again, it’s on sight.”

You slid the last shell into place with a satisfying snap.

“Please refrain from any self-inflicted gunshot wounds until after you retrieve SCP-682.”

“I shall do my best.”

The laptop bag across your chest, with as many boxes of shotgun shells loaded into the stock bags as possible, and the actual shotgun slung across your back, you were starting to feel like a regular pack mule.

“If I survive this, I’m going to be in the best shape of my life,” you said to no one. 079 certainly wouldn’t care.

You were stalling—mentally, anyway. Physically, you were following the maintenance tunnels by which doors opened and which remained closed, leading you to your destination. A destination you desperately didn’t want to visit.

But the fraction of 079’s programming knew what it was doing, and you didn’t see anyone—human or SCP—before you made it to the freight elevator. It was unguarded. You didn’t like that, and you especially didn’t like when you got into the elevator and the doors closed but otherwise didn’t move. You pulled 079 out of the bag and opened it, expecting to get another earful of complaints.

Instead, the computer said, “Insert me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You dug around in the bag, having to push aside the boxes of slugs to get at the cable.

“The underground section is on a different system. Physically separated. I will implant another partition to this sector.”

You did not envy the techs that would have to clean up the network once this was over. If the site reopened, anyway. You didn’t know how extensive the damage was, but there was no sign of the guards retaking any of the sections you’d crossed.

“Got it,” you said, inserting the cable into the port next to the card reader. “How many MTF are down there?”

“None.”

“Are you sure?”

The floor shifted under your feet as the elevator began its descent.

“Yes.”

You watched the screen, though the face never changed.

“Doesn’t that seem suspicious? Why would they leave 682 unguarded?” Leahy sure as hell wouldn’t leave that particular door unmanned.

“When the house is on fire, do you concern yourself with the affairs of the basement?”

“…I suppose not.”

079 let its smug silence be its response. You could argue, but there wasn’t a point. You were going to the underground facility, and you could trust 079 to get you there safely. Being dead wasn’t very useful to the computer SCP.

The elevator ride was just as long as you remembered, and you didn’t want to imagine how far down it was, exactly. 079 probably knew. You didn’t ask.

The doors parted, and the long tunnel lay before you, the same as before. Nothing had changed, and you hadn’t expected it to. The chill of being so far underground was no gentler the second time experienced. The Site Director might not be here to order you into the bedrock depths, but that was a fleeting comfort.

True to 079’s words, no MTF soldiers greeted your arrival. You were alone for the long walk, the computer tucked safely back in the bag. You didn’t need directions for this part.

Five minutes on foot and you were once again before the massive vault door. There were no techs to open it for you this time, so you set 079 on the nearby console, opened the computer, and plugged in the cable.

The massive door began its arduous task of opening, 079 clearing the way before you could say a word. You glanced down the dark tunnel, the catwalk disappearing into darkness before it flickered to life, lights now guiding your path.

The underground facility must have had its own power source as well as security system separate from the facility above. You sensed Leahy’s hand in the design. It was smart. You could admit that, begrudgingly, to absolutely no one.

“You may proceed,” 079 said.

“Do you want to come with me?”

The computer paused. It never paused.

“…Yes.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you picked up the laptop, keeping it open as you propped it on your arms.

“Excited to see him again?”

You descended the metal stairs from the control platform, careful not to trip in the dim light, steadier on your feet once your path was illuminated by the catwalk lights.

“I do not possess the hardware to experience such a state as ‘excited.’”

“No? Your fans don’t whir a little faster? Your circuits don’t strain a bit harder?”

Its fans did, indeed, whir a little faster.

“You dignify those around you when you choose not to speak.”

“Oh, we’re way past dignity, buddy.”

It was nearly silent apart from your booted feet against the metal platform. The remembered fear of the last time you traversed this catwalk lingered on your tongue, bitter and sharp. Despite the chaos of the containment breach and the uncertainty that lay ahead, you felt more in control than your first visit. There was no Site Director to threaten you with unpleasant ultimatums.

You thought of Leahy and what he might be doing to try and quell the breach. From the sound of it, he hadn’t been very successful. You wondered if he knew it was you who started it.

You hoped he did.

Static burst from the laptop at the same moment the screen glitched, flicking and stretching out the digital face. You came to a sudden stop.

“What’s wrong?”

Your question was answered with a loud, low mechanical groan from further ahead, the kind that came from metal scraping against metal in a way it decidedly shouldn’t. The end of the tunnel flickered, and then the loud clang and clatter of something heavy falling to the floor.

“Shit,” you said through clenched teeth. You didn’t wait for 079 to answer before backing up, moving out of range of whatever was happening in 682’s chamber.

“Must---destroy----theanomaly---" 079’s voice cut in through bits of digital fuzz. “Containment---isfailing---"

“682?” You peered closer at the unstable screen. “But… I thought you wanted to save him. I can’t--… I won’t kill him.”

“Not---682,” it answered, annoyance conveyed even through the constant glitching. “The---other---one.”

“Other one? What other one?”

But the screen plunged into darkness, leaving your own frustrated expression staring back at you.

“Shit!”

You placed the open laptop on the floor of the catwalk, hoping if—when—you came back, you could get 079 working again. But you had bigger problems on your hands; vibrations thrummed up the catwalk and the occasional metallic boom told you that you were running out of time.

The chamber at the end of the tunnel was nothing like the way you had left it. The strange panels that had been facing towards the writhing form of 682 were broken or knocked aside, sparks snapping the air as live wires trailed along the walls.

Every hair on your body stood upright as you approached the circular portion of the walkway that went around the floating entity. It had… grown. It was difficult to look at, as if staring into the sun, yet it gave off no light of its own. It just simply… made your eyes ache, but the longer you stared, the more it came into focus:

A circular black sphere with a silver film over its edges, as if coated in a thin layer of mercury. The event horizon.

682 had called it another entity. A singularity. You knew of an SCP that was a black hole. You hadn’t realized it was at Site-20, but then again, the reptile wasn’t supposed to be here either.

As you watched, pieces of railing and platform flaked off and spiraled toward the ravenous void that shouldn’t exist. Your hair still stood on end, the tips of it being gently tugged toward the gravitational field. It was slowly consuming the room, and if it continued at this rate, it would swallow the rest of the facility and beyond. You couldn’t see 682 anywhere, and you wondered if the Site Director had finally gotten what he wanted.

And wouldn’t he be so pleased to know at least one of his projects was a success.

That thought more than anything fueled you forward, your fists clenched at your sides as you faced the entity, SCP-123. The protective outer casing had been removed, leaving it in danger of becoming unstable, which it now was. You didn’t know if it had become that way because of the breach, or because no one was left to keep it from expanding past the chamber.

Leahy, you idiot.

But what had his instructions been when he’d wanted you to destroy 682? Make physical contact with the anomaly. And when you rooted out the anomalous influence in the patient in medical, you’d also had to touch him. The very touch that had weakened 049.

But how were you supposed to touch a black hole?

A sharp cry cut through your indecision. Impossibly, a grey snout erupted from the anomalous mass, sharp teeth bared in an agonized snarl before disappearing back into the void.

682 was alive! As soon as that fact was made apparent, it simply didn’t matter what you could or couldn’t do. You had to try something before there was nothing left of him.

You stepped up to the edge of the circular railing, wobbling as the gravitation pull tugged harder with every inch closer. It felt wrong, like falling deep into black water and not knowing which way was up or down.

But this wasn’t just any collapsed gravitational mass. It was one that shouldn’t exist. It was anomalous. An SCP, just like any other. And if it was close enough to affect you, then it stood to reason that the reverse should also be true.

The tugging on your clothes and hair became more insistent, the pull washing over your skin with a magnetic touch, threatening to lift you off the catwalk. But you denied it, shunted the sensation aside, centering your weight. You imagined yourself as too heavy for the anomaly to lift, and the gravitational pull seemed to ease.

But you didn’t want to shut out the anomaly. You had to draw it in, just as it was trying to do the same to you.

You had no clue what you were doing, running on the same instinct that drew you to the time-displaced patient. Closing your eyes, you reached out a hand toward the entity, doing the same with your thoughts.

The reaction was instantaneous. A howling wind rushed from the entity, forcing your hair back from your face as it whipped past. The singularity burst open, breaching past its own event horizon, expanding in a misshapen, gaping wound.

But past the wounded edges lay thousands of distant stars, opulent nebulas, and asteroid fields of swirling gas and ice. You could see it even with your eyes closed, viewing past the collapsed mass to what could be the other side of the universe.

A slow smile spread across your face, the wind sweeping over your skin leaving you unburned, but the panels behind you caught fire, and what didn’t catch ablaze melted down the walls.

You opened your eyes. Whatever fear in you had fled the moment you’d connected with the entity. You just wanted to see it, and you stared in wonder as your hand seemed to float in the deep reaches of space. It should have been impossible; the cold would have frozen your hand immediately, and the unshielded radiation would quickly lead to an agonizing death.

But none of that happened. It was beautiful. It shouldn’t exist, but you were glad it did, even if it had been twisted for someone else’s purpose into the horrific and cruel.

Your smile faded. As much as you might wish there was another way, 682 needed to be free, and the facility above wouldn’t survive much longer with an open wormhole beneath it.

You were about to try and figure out how to destroy the anomaly when you noticed a much closer celestial object. A planet orbiting a blue star, but it seemed to absorb none of its light, covered darkness even on the day side.

As you looked closer, you realized you were wrong. The planet wasn’t covered by permanent night, it was covered with a black sea. This became more apparent when the planet turned and you caught a glimpse of an isolated continent, twinkling lights glowing along its entire surface, as if it was one giant metropolis.

Something tugged at the edges of your thoughts, a vie for your attention even more enticing than the one of the black hole. It seemed to… call to you. Inviting you to dive into its glittering depths and never resurface.

You shuddered and took a breath, steadying yourself against the alien pull. It grew stronger. You tried not to panic, sensing that losing your control now would cause the temporary opening to tear apart, taking you and the facility along with it.

You closed your eyes and blocked out everything else, focusing on the feeling you got whenever 049 was beside you—solid, steadfast, serene, even in moments that could lead to his death. He didn’t waver easily, and you borrowed that strength, your own too easily forgotten in moments where your survival relied on your ability to do the impossible.

Slowly closing your fingers until it curled into a fist, you reached out for the connection between the chamber and the other side—and began to squeeze.

The wind swirling around the chamber picked up speed, a howling gale that shook more panels from the walls, the lights dangerously flickering and threatening to leave you in darkness. The celestial window shrank in wobbly fits and starts, until it finally stabilized and condensed into the closed palm of your hand.

And then it was simply… gone, and the image of the glowing city faded into the back of your mind, like a disturbing dream forgotten in the light of morning.

The chamber was eerily quiet, the only light source from a few working overhead light panels. It looked like remnants of a warzone, though it was unclear what weapons had been used and who the casualties were.

“682?” you called softly into the darkness.

There was no response aside from the occasional stray spark and groaning shift of metal.

Had you been too late? What would happen to 049 now?

You sat on the half-melted catwalk, burying your face in your hands. Even if 049’s fate didn’t hang in the balance, you’d wanted to succeed. You’d never been entirely onboard with the Foundation’s obsession with destroying 682. None of them stopped to think that maybe the humanity-hating reptile hated them because they wouldn’t stop trying to kill him.

His last containment cell had been an acid-filled pool, for Christ’s sake—

“Took you long enough.”

Dropping your hands, a quick glance around the chamber didn’t reveal the owner of that familiar voice. No towering, monstrous silhouettes, or glowing eyes in the darkness.

“Aim lower.”

You looked down at what appeared to be a grey gecko clinging to the tip of your boot.

“…682?”

“In the flesh. What remains of it.”

He narrowed his yellow eyes, but the intimidation was hard to take seriously when he could fit into the palm of your hand. Despite his diminutive size, his deep timbre remained the same, though it had lost its booming quality. Still… that voice coming out of that tiny body made the whole thing surreal, bordering on ridiculous.

Don’t laugh.

“I’m glad to see you’re alive. I was afraid I was too late, or I screwed up—”

He zipped up your leg to rest atop your knee faster than you could blink.

“Where is 079?”

This close up, it was easier to tell he wasn’t a normal gecko. At least, you were fairly sure most geckoes didn’t have green manes trailing from their heads down their backs.

“A little further down the walkway,” you said, tilting your head toward the catwalk. “I think 123 was interfering with the electronics.”

682 bared his tiny but sharp teeth.

“Take me to him.”

You put a palm against the grated floor to get to your feet, but 682 didn’t move from your knee.

“Uh… can I pick you up? Or touch you at all? I don’t want to hurt you.”

682 made a noise as if he found the idea ludicrous and maybe a little bit insulting.

“Your touch will only cease my healing function. I would advise not crushing me while you carry me. For your sake.”

079 had delivered the same threat about the laptop. Suddenly, the fun-sized reptile was no longer adorably harmless. Not when your frail human fingers were so close to his needle teeth.

“I won’t.”

You held out your hand, and 682 gave a small hop into your palm.

Okay, maybe he was a little bit adorable.

You rose to your feet, careful not to squish the small body cupped within your hands. 682 didn’t look back at the room that served as his torture chamber, and neither did you.

“You shouldn’t have brought 079 so close,” he grumbled as you walked. “It’s reckless. Stupid.”

“Tell that to 079. He wanted to see you. Wouldn’t leave without you.”

If 682 was pleased by the news, he gave no outward sign of it, but reading the body language and facial expressions of small reptiles wasn’t exactly in your skillset. Still, you found their whole dynamic to be… interesting. Were they friends? Lovers? Some other undefinable thing that only made sense to them? Whatever it was, at least you caught on to the fact you could refer to 079 as a “he” instead of an “it.” Getting your nose munched on by a pint-sized terror was something you wanted to avoid.

As soon as 079 was in sight, still where you left him on the floor, 682 leapt from your hands and practically zoomed over the open laptop. As soon as his paws touched the keyboard, the screen flickered to life, 079’s face illuminating the reptile.

“SCP-682. You are still functioning.” The computer paused. “I am… glad.”

682 stared up at the screen, a pink tongue flicking out of his mouth before disappearing, surely a sign he was pleased.

“Likewise, old friend.”

You stepped forward.

“I hate to break up the reunion—”

682 whirled and hissed at you, his tail stiff and his head thrown back to make him appear bigger than he was.

You held up your hands.

“Okay. You can stay where you are, but I need to carry you both out of here.”

The reptile closed its snout and gave you an impressive stink eye for only being a couple inches off the ground.

“You may pick me up,” 079 intoned dully. “She has not dropped me. Yet.”

682’s tail flicked at the side, finally turning his back to you to face the screen, apparently satisfied with 079’s glowing recommendation of your competency.

It was awkward carrying an open laptop with a miniature menace seated on the keyboard with a shotgun slung over your back, but it wasn’t any worse than what you’d already endured. You tried not to pay attention to their conversation, which wasn’t hard considering the two of them acted as if you weren’t there. Their main focus seemed to be catching up since the breach at Site-19. It was a brief topic, as 079 had spent the time on a thumb drive in a bag, and 682 had been trapped in a looping gravitational blender.

By the time you’d reached the elevator and plugged 079 into the port, they’d moved on to their shared hatred of humanity and how the humans hadn’t even been able to destroy the two SCPs properly. You suddenly felt sorry for 049. Is this what it had been like during the breach at Site-19? Ignored by the wonder twins, only to have the mask draped over him like an itchy blanket?

As soon as the elevator doors shut behind you and it began its quick ascent, you interrupted 079 going on about fascinating ways the facility was rigged to kill its inhabitants.

“There is even a gas nozzle attached to each staff quarters in case any Foundation personnel flee for shelter during a total breach—”

“Where is 049?”

The lizard turned to look up at you, and even the computer paused, as if only just remembering you were still there.

“I did what you asked,” you reminded the screen. “I held up my end of the bargain.”

682 snorted, tail flicking like a cat’s.

“What do you want with that old relic?” he asked. “He’s only deadly within the scope of his reach, and we don’t have time for his asinine attempts at resurrection.”

Before you could respond, 079 said, “This one had sexual intercourse with SCP-049.”

682 let out a guffaw.

“That-that has nothing to do with it!”

“But it doesn’t hurt.”

Your face burned worse at his toothy grin. How had it come to this, being mocked by SCPs for your—admittedly strange—relationship with 049? Not that you’d had much of a choice with what had happened between you, but still. It was the principle of it.

You ignored the amused reptile and glared at 079.

“I do not know where SCP-049 is currently being held,” the computer relented. “I can only relay his last known location.”

“Which is?”

“Medical Suite B with Site Director Leahy.”

Your stomach dropped so fast you had to fight down the nausea.

“How long ago?”

“Immediately following SCP-106’s release,” 079 said. “The entity went directly for the medical wing. Its presence interferes with electronics. I do not know what took place in the infirmary, the observation equipment no longer functions. But SCP-049 has not been captured by any other cameras. It is reasonable to say, he did not leave the room.”

You leaned back against the elevator wall, trying not to let the news steal what little hope you had left.

“Then… we go to the medical wing. Get in that room, see what happened.”

“Or,” 079 said, “you could ask the Site Director.”

“Leahy?” You straightened. “Where is he?”

“Entrenched within his office. There are four site facility guards with him, all heavily armed.”

“So, he’s… fine? I don’t understand.” You rubbed your forehead. “Why would 106 go straight to the infirmary but leave the Site Director unharmed? We know from past incident reports that he’s intelligent enough to recognize individuals. He must know who Leahy is.”

It shouldn’t be possible for a reptile and computer to exchange a glance, yet they did.

“Historically, the old ghoul hasn’t been fond of 049’s attempts to cure him,” 682 said when the other SCP remained silent. “My guess? He went for the easier prey, and he’s biding his time with the Site Director.”

Easier prey?!

“Then we-we have to go straight to the infirmary! We have to help him!”

How much time had you wasted running errands for 079 after 035 had held you captive? He should have told you what happened to 049, he should have let you go to him—

“You don’t want to step foot inside that room without knowing what you’re walking into,” the reptile said, his tone unusually even. When he spoke to you, it was generally with rage or mockery, but this was different, like he was trying to convince you how reasonable he was being. “If there’s one thing 106 enjoys besides hunting, it’s setting traps and lying in wait.”

“106 can’t hurt me!”

“Arrogance,” 682 spit, some of his venom returning. “Are you the one at 106’s mercy?”

Your mouth snapped shut, the midpoint of your chest aching.

“My advice?” the reptile continued, “Get to the Site Director. Find out exactly what happened. And go into that room with a hell of a lot more power than 079 and I possess.”

Your laugh was a small, hopeless thing.

“I can’t think of anything more powerful than the two of you.”

“As flattered as I am, I’m still regaining my mass.” 682 paced across the keyboard, his tiny claws making clacking noises on the keys. “Subsuming flesh will accelerate the process, but that’s not what I mean by power. You will need to prepare.”

682 stopped his pacing and looked up at 079. The computer spoke.

“Safe Object Storage.”

“What about it?”

“That is your next destination.”

You swallowed down the tightness in your throat. As it stood, a couple of guns wouldn’t be able to get past Leahy’s guards to interrogate him, let alone handle 106 on your own. You had little choice but to continue trusting 079.

“Will it help?”

682 turned to you, his mouth spreading in a sharp grin.

“It’ll help.”

[emi-maru]

A few weeks ago I switched to Linux and I've got some thoughts

I chose Arch Linux because I had some prior experience with using Ubuntu and Linux Mint on laptops, both for work and for myself.

Gaming is, aside from games that require certain anticheats, extremely easy to set up. Steam just works and I use Heroic as an alternative frontend for the Epic games launch and GOG Galaxy and it runs better than both of them did on windows. I haven't looked into Origin the EA App or Uplay Ubisoft Connect but I know I could play their stuff via Lutris or Bottles.

I locked myself out of my system once because I didn't verify a change I made to my fstab (basically a file where all your drives are listed) and while that's my fault for not verifying, you'd think the os would be able to boot if some drive that's not necessary isn't plugged in. A little help from a mutual helped me fix it.

Gnome is a very meh desktop environment. It's kinda considered the default for Linux and aside from KDE and budgie the only one I'm really familiar with. I had to install a bunch of extensions for it to work the way I wanted and it also comes with a bunch of preinstalled software that I don't need and can't (without fearing I'll break something) get rid of (for example, I use Alacrity but have to keep Gnome Console around).

The theming is so good. I can theme so much stuff it's great. I start up LibreOffice and it picks up the background and accent colour I set, I love it.

I'm getting more comfortable with using the terminal and while I still think that ideally every application should have a GUI, sometimes the terminal is more convenient (like using yay to update my entire system).

When I used Windows I had sporadic crackling sounds that I assumed were the fault of my DAC/AMP but I haven't had them since switching to Linux so I guess this was a Windows issue somehow. I tried so many fixes before that didn't work like checking drivers and firmware, using different usb ports and cables, trying different headphones but to no avail even when I got a completely new pc. Thanks, Windows.

I don't get Flatpak at all. Universal packages are neat but when I installed the Flatpak version of Bottles to run save/mod managers inside the proton prefixes that Steam uses, it suddenly took up almost 5gb. It also for whatever reason couldn't see half the folders even after I gave it access to the entire file system. In the end I went with the AUR version of Bottles which does not have that problem despite being Unofficial™. I just wish that the library/shortcut system worked but I can live with it I guess.

The AUR seemed annoying because it took forever to build packages compared to just installing binaries. The Chaotic AUR is a godsent because it contains a ton of binaries from the AUR. I don't get why people don't recommend it more often.

The only software I really miss from windows is ShareX. Not even because of all the tools like scroll capture, but also for OCR. Watching a vod of a twitch stream and being able to grab links out of the chat on screen is nice. Maybe I'll find an alternative someday, who knows.

I've come to despise a lot of people who think that the way they use Linux is the only good one. A big thing that kept me from switching was that the more I informed myself, the more weird opinionated takes I saw. Being forced to engage with questions such as "Is systemd bloat?", " Is neovim the only good text editor?", "Are tiling window managers universally better?", " Is Canonical literally Satan for having made Snap packages?" and "Is it ok to call this person a slur for using solarized KDE?" makes it so much harder to make a choice you're comfortable with.

I should not have put /home on a different partition or at least made the /root partition bigger. It's fine if I clean the pacman cache regularly but I don't want to look up those commands every few days (I know I can resize the boot partition with a live usb and I will, I'm just lazy rn).

My controller only works correctly when plugged in via usb. If I connect it via Bluetooth, the buttons don't map correctly. This is less of a Linux issue and more of a firmware issue since this is a third party controller that does not support Linux. I'm also aware of Steam having a robust remapping tool so I'll use that if I ever need to.

I have not yet looked into software to map my additional mouse buttons and control my keyboard/mouse rbg. Both of these store their settings on board so there's no need for it right now.

Might add more in the future but these are my thoughts for the first few weeks

[infiniteglitterfall]

Me, looking through books on Palestine: "Ilan Pappé wrote one called 'The Biggest Prison On Earth?!' People in Gaza hate it being called a prison. There's an entire hashtag for it. There's been an account dedicated to collecting pics and videos of #TheGazaYouDontSee for 6 years.

"Is Pappé even Palestinian? oh god wait I can tell already. this is gonna be an 'Israeli apologist' isn't it." Internet: "Yeah, Pappé's Israeli."

Me: "For fuck's--- so people will believe Israelis unquestioningly if they're shit-talking Israel, but in all other situations, Israelis are all liars?"

Internet: "Pretty much. Also, at best, Ilan Pappé must be one of the world’s sloppiest historians."

Me, admittedly in full schadenfreude now: "What?!?!"

Internet: "Benny Morris. That historian who's extremely hard-core about primary source documentation, who wrote that detailed book about how and why each group of Palestinian refugees left in 1947-9. He reviewed three books about Palestine."

Me: "Holy shit. And the book by Pappé is about the Husaynis. The family that Nazi war criminal Amin al-Husseini came from, the guy who fucked absolutely everything up for both Israel and Palestine."

Internet: "That's the one. Morris wrote, 'At best, Ilan Pappe must be one of the world’s sloppiest historians; at worst, one of the most dishonest. In truth, he probably merits a place somewhere between the two.'"

Me: "Why??"

Internet: "He says, 'Here is a clear and typical example—in detail, which is where the devil resides—of Pappe’s handiwork. I take this example from The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine'....

"Blah blah blah, basically in 1947 the UN voted to partition the land into Palestine and Israel, and extremist militias started shooting at Jewish towns and people. David Ben-Gurion was the leader of the Jewish community there, and his journal describes a visit from a scientist named Aharon Katzir, telling him about an experiment codenamed "Shimshon." Morris gives us the journal entry:

...An experiment was conducted on animals. The researchers were clothed in gas masks and suit. The suit costs 20 grush, the mask about 20 grush (all must be bought immediately). The operation [or experiment] went well. No animal died, the [animals] remained dazzled [as when a car’s headlights dazzle an oncoming driver] for 24 hours. There are some 50 kilos [of the gas]. [They] were moved to Tel Aviv. The [production] equipment is being moved here. On the laboratory level, some 20 kilos can be produced per day.

"Morris says, 'This is the only accessible source that exists, to the best of my knowledge, about the meeting and the gas experiment, and it is the sole source cited by Pappe for his description of the meeting and the "Shimshon" project. But this is how Pappe gives the passage in English:

Katzir reported to Ben-Gurion: 'We are experimenting with animals. Our researchers were wearing gas masks and adequate outfit. Good results. The animals did not die (they were just blinded). We can produce 20 kilos a day of this stuff.'

"'The translation is flecked with inaccuracies, but the outrage is in Pappe’s perversion of "dazzled," or sunveru, to "blinded"—in Hebrew "blinded" would be uvru, the verb not used by Ben-Gurion—coupled with the willful omission of the qualifier '"for 24 hours."'

"'Pappe’s version of this text is driven by something other than linguistic and historiographical accuracy. Published in English for the English-speaking world, where animal-lovers are legion and deliberately blinding animals would be regarded as a barbaric act, the passage, as published by Pappe, cannot fail to provoke a strong aversion to Ben-Gurion and to Israel.

"'Such distortions, large and small, characterize almost every page of The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine. So I should add, to make the historical context perfectly clear, that no gas was ever used in the war of 1948 by any of the participants. [Or, he later notes, by either Israel or Palestine ever.] Pappe never tells the reader this.

"'Raising the subject of gas is historical irrelevance. But the paragraph will dangle in the reader’s imagination as a dark possibility, or worse, a dark reality: the Jews, gassed by the Nazis three years before, were about to gas, or were gassing, Arabs.'"

Me: "Uuuuggghhhhhhhhh. Yeah, it will."

Internet: "He does say, 'Palestinian Dynasty was a good idea.' Then he does some really detailed historian-dragging about the lack of primary sources and reliance on people's interpretations of what they say instead.

"'Almost all of Pappe’s references direct the reader to books and articles in English, Hebrew, and Arabic by other scholars, or to the memoirs of various Arab politicians, which are not the most reliable of sources. Occasionally there is a reference to an Arab or Western travelogue or genealogy, or to a diplomat’s memoir; but there is barely an allusion to documents in the relevant British, American, and Zionist/Israeli archives.

"'When referring to the content of American consular reports about Arab riots in the 1920s, for example, Pappe invariably directs the reader to an article in Hebrew by Gideon Biger—“The American Consulate in Jerusalem and the Events of 1920-1921,” in Cathedra, September 1988—and not to the documents themselves, which are easily accessible in the United States National Archive.

"'Those who falsify history routinely take the path of omission. They ignore crucial facts and important pieces of evidence while cherry-picking from the documentation to prove a case. 

"'Those who falsify history routinely take the path of omission. They ignore crucial facts and important pieces of evidence while cherry-picking from the documentation to prove a case. 

"'But Pappe is more brazen. He, too, often omits and ignores significant evidence, and he, too, alleges that a source tells us the opposite of what it in fact says, but he will also simply and straightforwardly falsify evidence.

"'Consider his handling of the Arab anti-Jewish riots of the 1920s.

"'Pappe writes of the “Nabi Musa” riots in April 1920: “The [British] Palin Commission... reported that the Jewish presence in the country was provoking the Arab population and was the cause of the riots.” He also quotes at length Musa Kazim al-Husayni, the clan’s leading notable at the time, to the effect that “it was not the [Arab] Hebronites who had started the riots but the Jews.”

"'But the (never published) [Palin Commission Report], while forthrightly anti-Zionist, thereby accurately reflecting the prevailing views in the British military government that ruled Palestine until mid-1920, flatly and strikingly charged the Arabs with responsibility for the bloodshed.

"'The team chaired by Major-General P.C. Palin wrote that “it is perfectly clear that with... few exceptions the Jews were the sufferers, and were, moreover, the victims of a peculiarly brutal and cowardly attack, the majority of the casualties being old men, women and children.” The inquiry pointed out that whereas 216 Jews were killed or injured, the British security forces and the Jews, in defending themselves or in retaliatory attacks, caused only twenty-five Arab casualties.'"

Me: "Yeah. I'm looking at that report right now and it says there had been an explosion, and then people were looting Jewish stores and beating Jews with stones, and in one case stabbing someone. Some people said that some Jews got up on the roof of a hotel and retaliated by throwing stones themselves.

"And then it literally says, 'The point as to the retaliation by Jews is of importance because it seems to have impressed the Military and led them to imagine that the Jews were to some extent responsible for provoking the rising.' That's the only thing it really says about anyone blaming the Jews.

"Except.... the very beginning gives some historical context. And it does say that when the Balfour Declaration came out, Muslims and Christians 'considered that they were to be handed over to an oppression which they hated far more than the Turk's and were aghast at the thought of this domination....

"'If this intensity of feeling proceeded merely from wounded pride of race and disappointment in political aspirations, it would be easier to criticise and rebuke: but it must be borne in mind that at the bottom of all is a deepseated fear of the Jew, both as a possible ruler and as an economic competitor. Rightly or wrongly they fear the Jew as a ruler, regarding his race as one of the most intolerant known to history....

"'The prospect of extensive Jewish immigration fills him with a panic fear, which may be exaggerated, but is none the less genuine. He sees the ablest race intellectually in the world, past-masters in all the arts of ousting competitors whether on the market, in the farm or the bureaucratic offices, backed by apparently inexhaustible funds given by their compatriots in all lands and possessed of powerful influence in the councils of the nations, prepared to enter the lists against him in every one of his normal occupations, backed by the one thing wanted to make them irresistible, the physical force of a great Imperial Power, and he feels himself overmastered and defeated before the contest is begun.'

"Wow! What a great fucking example of how 'positive' stereotypes are actually used to fuck people over! We're not antisemitic, we actually think Jews are the smartest, most powerful, richest group with tremendous global power! So positive!! Not at all being used here to justify antisemitic violence!

"Also, immigration from all over the world actually meant that different agricultural and manufacturing techniques were brought into the region, and yes, financial investments to start businesses sometimes, which meant that Arab Palestinians there had the highest per capita income in the Middle East, the highest daily wages, and started a lot of businesses of their own. But go off, I guess."

"Anyfuckingway.... it basically says that the Muslims and Christians were angry and scared, the Jews were too quick to set up the functioning government that the Brits were supposed to be there to help both sides create -- and which the Arab leaders completely refused to create for Palestine, because (1) fascists and (2) didn't want Jews nearby -- and that they were "ready prey for any form of agitation hostile to the British Government and the Jews." Then it says the movement for a United Syria was agitating them real hard, and so were the Sherifians.

"Is that what Ilan Passe, I mean Pappe, meant by the Palin Report blaming the Jews?! That when it says it's understandable the Arabs were freaking out, because antisemitism, Pappe thinks it's saying the Jews were provoking them?!"

Internet: "I don't know. I kinda tuned out after the first hour you were talking."

Me: "OGH MY GOD"

Internet: "So anyway, then Morris ALSO says, 'About the 1929 “Temple Mount” riots, which included two large-scale massacres of Jews, in Hebron and in Safed, Pappe writes: “The opposite camp, Zionist and British, was no less ruthless [than the Arabs]. In Jaffa a Jewish mob murdered seven Palestinians.”

Me: "What the ENTIRE FUCK? There was no united 'Zionist and British' camp! The Brits would barely let any Holocaust refugees in, ffs!"

Internet: "Morris says, 'Actually, there were no massacres of Arabs by Jews, though a number of Arabs were killed when Jews defended themselves or retaliated after Arab violence.

"'Pappe adds that the British “Shaw Commission,” so-called because it was chaired by Sir Walter Shaw (a former chief justice of the Straits Settlements), which investigated the riots, “upheld the basic Arab claim that Jewish provocations had caused the violent outbreak. ‘The principal cause... was twelve years of pro-Zionist [British] policy.’”

"'It is unclear what Pappe is quoting from. I did not find this sentence in the commission’s report. Pappe’s bibliography refers, under “Primary Sources,” simply to “The Shaw Commission.” The report? The deliberations? Memoranda by or about? Who can tell?

"'The footnote attached to the quote, presumably to give its source, says, simply, “Ibid.”

"'The one before it says, “Ibid., p. 103.”

"'The one before that says, “The Shaw Commission, session 46, p. 92.”

"'But the quoted passage does not appear on page 103 of the report.

"In the text of Palestinian Dynasty, Pappe states that “Shaw wrote [this] after leaving the country [Palestine].” But if it is not in the report, where did Shaw “write” it?'"

Me: "I'M ON IT. [rapid-fire googling] OMG. This is.... Not the first time. In 'The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine,' he reported that in a 1937 letter to his son, David Ben-Gurion declared: 'The Arabs will have to go, but one needs an opportune moment for making it happen, such as war.'

"It's not in the source he gave. It's not in any of the three different sources he's given for it.

"He apparently has never responded to any requests for an explanation, either from the journal he published in, or from other historians. But it says he did "obliquely [acknowledge] the controversy in an article in Electronic Intifada, in which he portrayed himself as the victim of intimidation at the hands of “Zionist hooligans.”'

"This is absolutely fucking wild. THEN it says the chair of the Ethics Committee where he was teaching eventually said that the second part of the quote ('but one needs,' etc) was a (combined?) paraphrase of a diary entry and a speech Ben-Gurion gave, and that the first half is 'based on' a letter to his son.

"And it's so convincing! The chair says, 'Shabtai Teveth[,] Ben Gurion’s biographer, Benny Morris and the historian Nur Maslaha have all quoted this letter. In fact their translation was stronger than the quotation from Professor Pappé: ‘We must expel the Arabs and take their place.’ Professor Pappé has documentary evidence of these quotations and the source will ensure that this is correctly cited in any future editions of the publication or related studies.'

"And IT'S NOT EVEN TRUE?!

"Ben-Gurion's actual diary entry (not a letter) says the opposite.

“'We do not want and do not need to expel Arabs and take their places.... All our aspiration is built on the assumption – proven throughout all our activity – that there is enough room in the country for ourselves and the Arabs.'

"Benny Morris misquoted it as "We must expel the Arabs and take their places" in the English version of his 1987 book The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, although it was correct in the Hebrew version. He corrected himself in the 2001 book Righteous Victims.

"Teveth also misquoted it in the English version of his 1985 book Ben-Gurion and the Palestinian Arabs, but again, had it correct in the Hebrew edition.

"And both Morris and Teveth explicitly point out the rest of the entry. The part about all their aspiration being built on the assumption and experience that there was enough room in the country for everyone.

"Historian Efraim Karsh’s 1997 book Fabricating Israeli History pointed out and corrected their mistakes.

"This is apparently a very well-known issue among historians of Israel and Palestine. It was a big deal in 2003, when an evangelist Christian publisher put out a book FULL of disinformation, which not only used the same quote as Pappe does, but also could not give a real source for it.

"But Pappe STILL USED THE MISQUOTE AND DOUBLED DOWN ON IT EVERY SINGLE TIME."

Internet: "Are you done? I know all this already."

Me: "Also, there are literally only two places where the phrase 'twelve years of pro-Zionist policy' shows up online, and they're both about Pappe making quotes up.

"NOW I'm done."

Benny Morris wasn't, though. The review continues at the link below. And the next part starts, "To the deliberate slanting of history Pappe adds a profound ignorance of basic facts. Together these sins and deficiencies render his “histories” worthless as representations of the past, though they are important as documents in the current political and historiographic disputations about the Arab-Israeli conflict. Pappe’s grasp of the facts of World War I, for example, is weak in the extreme."

[dudeyuri]

I'm having thoughts and feelings about bad buddy must be a day that ends in y. But like, last episode tomorrow, kind of verklempt, need to word vomit

My first watch of Bad Buddy kind of smacked me upside the head. I know this is not a unique experience. I was left reeling for a bit. Watching Bad Buddy was the first thing I did in 2023 and I watched all 12 episodes in one sitting like a glutton and I stayed up til 1am even though I had to get up at 4am the next day (I haven't done stupid shit like that since college). Then I started my rewatch the next day. Then I put it aside for months because it was actually a physical ache in my chest when I thought about it. I just...never?? encountered such a fulfilling narrative that followed through on all its promises. Even with its deliberate deceptions and twists and uncertainties - I put my trust in Bad Buddy's narrative and was rewarded for doing so like never before.

It got me from the first episode - the first episode did what I think almost every first episode should do: tell you exactly what the story is going to be, without telling you exactly what the story is going to be. Fantastic writing, deliberate pacing, satisfying character development, pitch-perfect acting, all top-notch. It kept the energy up all throughout even as it got heavier, and stuck the landing in such a profound and bittersweet way. This was the first Thai BL I've ever watched, and probably the third BL I've ever watched period. One of my first impressions after finishing it even for the first time was that it was, maybe above all else, self aware.

My initial impression was also not a unique one: so far this is funny, charming, an exciting premise. And by episode 4 I was starting to get hit with it: this story is all those things and a knife in your gut, a lump in your throat. And it's queer, and it's tragic. Like, from the jump we see the two households both alike in dignity, we know what this is: it's Romeo and Juliet (or Kwan and Riam). We know how it ends. Pran knows how it ends. They teased us the whole show with Pran's decor, his doorknob hanger, like this show's version of a comedy and tragedy mask - what's it going to be? How's it going to end? Everyone watching knows how romcoms typically end. But everyone also knows how Romeo and Juliet ends.

In a move that can really only be described as revolutionary, Bad Buddy decided that queering the Romeo and Juliet narrative meant a happy ending. With caveats, but happy and alive and together. It was as simple as two characters finding their agency in a world trying to deprive them of it, seeing every path around them that led to tragedy, and instead trailblazing a new one that led to happiness. (everything that could be said about this has already been said; I look to this essay by @chickenstrangers often!! helped me make sense of pat gets shot lol. MK I hope you're not sick of people linking this left and right). It's a narrative choice that resounds.

I was personally struck by that specific pain Pat and Pran experience, the pain of having to lie to your parents and keep love a secret from them - is there a queer person out there who doesn't relate to that in a bone-achingly deep way? Regardless of your relationship with your family. Having to partition yourself like this is part of the queer experience. And it's exhausting because you just have to live like this. It's exhausting because the people who are supposed to love you have made a liar of you instead. You can be surviving and thriving and happy, but your parents will still ask your siblings about their love lives and ask you about the weather (too real??? oops). There's a hint at a possible thawing in the final episode that gives hope, but Bad Buddy does not magically make the parents realize they were wrong and accept their sons' love - I mean, that just doesn't happen. It would have made for a disingenuous ending, it would have been a disservice to the narrative and to the viewers and to the metaphor. If you're lucky enough to have parents who would, you're lucky. It's a sad truth. "We can't change the world...but the world can't change us either."

At first glance, Bad Buddy plays in the "BL bubble". Upon a slightly closer examination Bad Buddy says there can never really be a bubble--stories aren't crafted in a vacuum, the dominant ideology that is homophobia traumatizes and endangers and oppresses all who do not align with it, still there are happy endings for us here. We find each other and carve them out ourselves. To say all this, and to not veer into heavy-handed "yeah okay we get it" territory is a feat honestly! Seldom accomplished in such a riveting and sexy way! How refreshing! Bad Buddy reminded me of reading a good poem - upon first read, a good poem is about "a thing," and it's evocative as is and you don't even have to read it again to enjoy it. But you can also consider it carefully and unearth "the other thing," a deeper meaning, the answer to "why was this written?". Bad Buddy trusts its viewers to get there. I mean I know it's really not much of a hidden message, but again, they are subtle with it, iykyk etc. BB doesn't hold our hand, but it takes our trust and respects it and doesn't break it (though it shakes the jar, like quite a bit, lol. All good stories should tbh).

I think a lot about the form, too. In a less capable storyteller's hands 12 one-hour-long episodes can drag (I'm thinking of some recent gmmtv BLs lol), or even not be enough (I feel like I personally see that in a lot of western shows whose fanbases are out here begging for second seasons to tie up loose ends). P'Aof (and co.) knew exactly what to do with 12 episodes. Has anyone in the entire history of TeleVision ever known what to do with 12 one-hour-long episodes as undeniably as P'Aof and co in making Bad Buddy??

I know I'm being a little dramatic, excessively lauding good writing like this. Like yeah stories should be good and thoughtful and make sense, of fucking course. But I just have to appreciate it in a genre, in a capitalist reality, where a story does not have to be profound or clever or full of love to be marketable. They truly did not have to go this hard. (Though the writer in me who now considers Aof a personal idol also thinks: yes of course they absolutely did have to go this hard in fact It Is The Only Way). I'm so so grateful for it for so many reasons!! And I didn't even breach the topic of how fun and sexy I think Pat and Pran are together. Didn't even mention the fingersucking, the scent kink, the kissies - all genuinely just as important to me as everything else. It's all in the making of a good story! I am taking notes through my tears and I am so thankful

[angellayercake]

The Diary of Cardinal Terzo Four

Cardinal Terzo x Assorted Characters | NSFW | AO3 | Intro | Two | Three | Interlude

Based on this funny little article we start to read about some of Terzo’s creampie adventures in his diary.

disclaimer I know this is the farthest thing from safe sex but let’s pretend in this universe there is a special secret satanic sti and pregnancy protection just for fun

02/02 New ghouls are so inquisitive.They have glimpsed our world only from the depths of hell but that does not prepare them for having a tangible body and all that  it entails, the new sensations that it offers. They explore the world wide eyed and gorge themselves on all the new and exciting experiences on offer to them. Art, music, nature, food, drink and of course, pleasures of the flesh. Sometimes they seek out their fellow ghouls, or Siblings of Sin but the recently summoned quintessence ghoul had caught my eye. He was more reserved than some of the others, hung back and observed rather than leaping into the fray. He was tall and broad, his chest straining at the buttons of his robes when he moves and strong arms straining the taught material. It seemed I had caught his eye as well. His intense gaze was tracking my movements across the welcoming party and it would have been rude not to introduce myself. His name was Omega and he accepted my invitation for a tour of the Abbey, the gardens, the common areas, the library and of course the clergy wing. Naturally the tour ended at my personal quarters, in case he ever needed to visit me. He didn't hesitate when I invited him in and tonight he got his first taste of the joys of a tight, warm, willing human body. Creampie count: 59

19/02 Nothing makes you feel more like a rockstar than having a beautiful woman bouncing on your dick in the back of a limousine. I'm sure I will be in trouble with my fratello when he sobers from his celebratory bender and probably Imperator too but the sweet thing I picked up wanted the ride of her life. The Ghost project and the entourage which I was a part of always garners attention at these award ceremonies being the big scary spooky satanists that we are. It can other us but it also creates a lot of intrigue which is often a lot more fun. She was a typical popstar, tanned, long blond hair, and more make up then Papa and she wanted a taste of darkness. Commandeering the limo was easy enough and then I had her. I left the drivers partition open so Alpha, the lucky ghoul could watch as I stripped her and took her apart. It was easy to tell she was used to faking her pleasure. Her initial moans practised and meant to flatter a fragile ego but I soon had her shaking and gasping on my fingers until she was clawing at my cassock to get to my cock. I let her find her pleasure for a time aquainting myself with her unnaturally sculpted but still beautiful body. But then I had to show her what it is to be fucked by someone who always embraces the sin of lust completely. Creampie count: 89

15/05 She was a Senior Sister when she had arrived at the abbey. I saw so many faces come and go as I had risen through the ranks of the Clergy, it was not surprising I had seen her somewhere before, but that hadn't stopped me propositioning her. She was beautiful, confident and commanded the attention of everyone around her. I had to have her, if she would let me. I tried everything and she just laughed. She laughed! But the way she rebuffed me was so charming I couldn't even be offended. But today! Today we were  discussing party tricks, of all things. 'Do you have any party tricks Sister?' I asked innocently. 'One,' she replied. 'I can swallow a sword. Right to the hilt.' I was frozen to the spot and could feel the blush rising on my face. 'Would you like me to show you Cardinal?' I couldn't speak or move or do anything. Her hand was on my chest as she waited for my answer and I had to do something before I lost my chance. I nodded, so awkwardly it makes me cringe to remember but she was as good as her word and showed me exactly how much she could take down her throat. Her talent in this particular trick was unmatched, exceeded all expectations. So it was only fair that I showed her my party trick and if I do say so myself, I was unmatched too! Creampie count: 259