#was planning on posting this friday but apparently I have no self-control

[tup-ika-5385]

Summary:

A Sequel to the fic "A Series of Hard Knocks," focusing on Tup and Dogma. Now six months after the trials of Umbara, Tup and Dogma are growing into themselves as well-established members of the 501st. Tup's been training more with Fives and Jesse, set on an ARC trooper promotion, and even Dogma has found a place in medical, where his intense focus and organization are both needed and appreciated. While helping Dogma study for his medic exams, discoveries are made, and help comes from unlikely sources as they unearth a foreboding plot.

Chapter 2 Summary:

Fives, Tup, and Dogma learn more about Tup's condition, and Hardcase makes a new friend.

Chapter 2: Just Sleep Deprivation

Racing down the empty Kaminoan hallway, Kix’s pounding footsteps echoed loudly on the duracrete floors.

He pushed himself faster as he remembered the barely hidden panic in Dogma’s comm.

“Kix, we need you in med-bay. I-It’s Tup.”

The few troopers he’d seen in the hallways knew better than to stop a medic on a tear towards medbay, and the front desk was unmanned when he got there, so it wasn’t long before he was entering the room in question. Opening the door, the first thing he spotted was Tup sitting on the exam table, hand in a plaster cast and tear tracks on his face. There were a few other weirdly-placed bandages visible under his off-duty reds, from what he could see, but the combination of covered injuries made no sense to his medic-trained mind.

“What happened?” He asked, moving closer to take a look at the casted arm. He didn’t know why they hadn’t just stuck it in a bone-knitter if a break was the issue.

Dogma answered first, and Kix was surprised to notice that Fives was present as well. “Tup was helping me study for my junior medic’s exam— he’s not injured, those were for practice. But I was doing the standard assessments, and Tup… he had some concerning results. I thought he was faking at first, for practice.” Dogma wrung his hands together anxiously even as he stood up straight to deliver his report. 

“Can I see?” Kix asked, and Dogma nodded, handing Kix the report before turning back towards Tup to give his hand a squeeze. Tup himself didn’t really respond, eyes worryingly unfocused, although he did lean on slightly to his brother’s touch.

Reading through the results, Kix was quick to agree that something was going on. Troopers didn’t just get… vision deficits and coordination issues without an explanation, and as he shone a penlight in Tup’s eyes to rule out a concussion, his worry increased. 

“Kix…?” Tup asked, wincing at the light, starting to come back to himself a little bit.

“I’m here, vod’ika. Just double-checking some things. How often have you been spacing out like that?” He asked, keeping his tone gentle. If not for these results, he would’ve chalked it up to the late hour, but now that he was looking for it, there were some small differences to Tup’s reaction times, even as he turned towards Kix to form a response.

“I dunno, maybe a couple times over the past few days. Haven’t noticed it myself that much, but I think it happened more when I was stressed.”

Kix nodded in understanding. He’d always worried about Tup’s headaches masking something more serious, given that most troopers didn’t even have headaches, and without Dogma’s exams, it would’ve been easy to miss this… whatever it was, especially because they were supposed to be redeployed in two days, right after Dogma finished his test. But he trusted Dogma’s assessment; something was definitely wrong here, and it worried him.

“Alright, Tup. After looking at the results, I agree with Dogma that something is probably going on, but we won’t know for sure until we take some scans. The Kaminoans like to do stress tests in these situations, but I’ve never been a fan of them personally, so we’ll be doing a more intense brain scan instead. There is a small risk of swelling and worsening of symptoms, but in most cases, it’s relatively minor.” 

Tup swallowed, looking nervous, but after an encouraging nod from Fives, he leaned into Dogma’s silent support and responded. “Okay… let’s do the scan.”

Kix gave him a comforting smile before moving to the control pad on the side of the room to set up the scanner. Inputting his authorization code, he frowned at the panel. “That’s odd. It’s saying that Level 5 atomic brain scans require authorization from either a Kaminoan or a natborn instructor. It’s been a while since I’ve used this type of scanner, I admit, but I don’t remember that being a requirement.”

Kix muttered a curse at the useless machine and Dogma shared a worried look with Tup. Given Dogma’s uncertain status after Krell’s death, they were both uncomfortably familiar with the consequences if the Kaminoans got word of Tup’s unexplained symptoms. 

Thankfully, the anxious silence didn’t last long as Fives stepped in, looking to Kix for permission before getting out a datapad and plugging into the system controls. He wasn’t a natural at programming it like Echo had been, but his hard-won computer skills came in handy more often than he’d like to admit, and it wasn’t long before he bypassed the login, stepping away to give Kix room to work. “All yours, vod.”

Kix smirked, glad that Fives’ ARC training was being used for good, rather than to escape medbay or turn off the bed-alarms like he’d done on one particularly memorable occasion. “And here I thought you ARC troopers were only good for your looks.” 

“What can I say? We’re the full package, vod.” Fives snarked back, moving out of the way for Kix to continue, now that he had access to the scanner. 

After another few seconds, Kix nodded. “Looks like we’re good to go. Are you ready, Tup?”

“Dogma should do it. It’s his practice case.” Tup mumbled, nodding as he laid down on the exam table, giving Dogma a faint smile. 

Kix gave Dogma a questioning look. “You feeling up for it, Dogma?”

Pushing down nervousness and dread, Dogma stepped forward to man the controls. “Yes sir… Fives, could you…?” Almost without needing to be asked, Fives took Dogma’s place keeping Tup company, only letting go of his hand when the scanner started to lower. 

The low vibrating of the scanner whirred unpleasantly as Dogma continued, slow and steady. Kix stood by to assist, just in case, but it wasn’t necessary. He grimaced as he heard a low groan from Tup, but before too long it was done, and the scanner was being removed so they could surround Tup once again. 

Once the scanner had been moved, Tup sat up unsteadily with a grimace. “Well, that didn’t exactly tickle. How long ‘till we see the results?”

“Not long,” Kix responded, waiting for the scans to upload, and finally they did, transmitting to Fives’ datapad so Tup could see them. Now, Tup had never seen a brainscan before, and neither had Fives, but the red circle on the scan didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“What the kriff is that?!” Fives asked.

“I don’t know, why are you asking me?!” Tup cried, still a little shaken from the scan.

Looking between the screen and Kix, Dogma asked in a low tone, “Is that a tumor?” His stomach filled with dread and his heart dropped into his boots, but he knew what the answer would be.

Kix bit his lip, sending Tup a concerned look. “Whatever it is, it’s pressing up against Tup’s frontal lobe. The swelling is probably what’s been causing all your symptoms, Tup.” He didn’t want to cause a panic, but internally he agreed that it didn’t look good. 

“W-What should we do?” Tup asked, looking to his brothers as his anchor. Fives was quick to put a steadying hand on his shoulder, and Dogma didn’t protest when an outstretched hand pulled him closer. 

Kix opened his mouth to respond when all of a sudden, they heard the rattle of supply crates outside the room and a distinct increase in the amount of traffic in medbay. Glancing at his chrono with a curse, he realized it was nearly 0600, and that their unoccupied corner of medbay wasn’t going to stay that way for long.

“We should get out of here before someone comes looking.”

“B-But what about Tup?!” Fives cried in dismay. Dogma gritted his teeth, clenching his unoccupied fist as tightly as he could, but morbidly, he understood Kix’s reasoning.

“I don’t like it, but the thing in his head isn’t going anywhere, but if the Kaminoans get their hands on him… it won’t be good. We’re not going to leave it in there, but we need to strategize, come up with a plan.” Kix sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Looking up at his worried brothers, Tup gave them a half-smile, mustering up his usual charm to reassure them, despite the sharp pain in his head and the weird disconnect he’d felt since the scan. “I’ll be alright, Fives. Like Kix said, it’s been there for a while; what’s one more day?”

And as they snuck out of the medbay, making sure to wipe the main computer first, Tup pushed himself forward even as he started leaning more heavily on his brothers than he had been before. Probably just sleep deprivation.

________________________

Letting out a jaw-cracking yawn, Hardcase rubbed bleary eyes as he made his way towards his morning rehab session. It would be one of his last ones, at least with Patch, since the rehab medic was finally returning to the 104th after a six-month posting with the 501st after Umbara. 

He’d left Dogma and Kix with enough instruction to continue helping the other troopers with their exercises, and he said he’d always be open for a comm if they ever needed help. But Hardcase was finally starting to get used to riding the waves of his chronic pain, between keeping up with his stretches, meds, and recognizing when his Z-6 just wasn’t in the cards for the day. Even the worst of his hypertrophic scarring was doing a little better since they arrived on Kamino, where they’d managed to pester the Kaminoans into allowing laser surgery that would usually be considered cosmetic and unnecessary. 

Walking down the hallways, Hardcase focused his thoughts on the therapy session ahead. Patch had informed him that the group today would be pretty small, given that the rest of the 501st was halfway to Ringo Vinda, but there’d be another trooper there with pretty similar experiences to Hardcase, with an added dose of traumatic brain injury. 

Maybe they’d have some thoughts on weapon modifications; Hardcase himself had gotten pretty creative recently when it came to modifying his heavy gun, figuring out which components were necessary safety features, and which ones were more kilos than they were worth. The thought brought a grin to his face as he entered the room, surprised to find it mostly empty, save one. Patch must be running late.

Hardcase did a double-take when he glanced at the other trooper in the room, if he could even call them that. Even sitting down, the other trooper easily dwarfed the standard issue chair he’d taken residence in, and Hardcase paused for a beat as he saw the other’s facial scar. It was definitely smaller than his own, but he was surprised to see that their hypertrophic scarring was almost worse than his own. Usually, with access to bacta, most scars wouldn’t look that bad, even in the rehab stage, and while his own difficulties were explained by Krell, the traitorous shabuir who’d denied him basic medical care, timely medical intervention usually helped with the worst of it. 

He noticed the other trooper shrink into themselves a little bit and Hardcase sheepishly realized that he’d been staring. Not wanting to prolong the awkwardness, he approached the other trooper, sticking a hand out. 

“The name’s Hardcase! I’m a heavy gunner from the 501st. What’s your name, vod?” Even with the obvious physical differences, he’d recognize a brother anywhere.

“Uh, my name’s Wrecker– I-I’m from Clone Force 99.” Wrecker responded with a lopsided grin. He pushed down some frustration as his voice stuttered, like it had since his injury. Tech told him that it’d get better over time, and it already had, but he hated how it made him stick out even more than usual, and some of the less-considerate regs had taken to teasing him for it. 

Thankfully, this reg didn’t seem to be one of them, and as he turned around to pull up a chair, Wrecker caught a glimpse of a rather large scar on the back of Hardcase’s head and continuing under his blacks.

“Hey, we match!” He exclaimed before he could stop himself. ‘Pointing out other people’s scars is rude,’ Hunter’s voice repeated in his mind, and he grimaced. That was another thing he’d noticed since his injury. He hadn’t had much of a filter before the accident, but it seemed like every other conversation, he’d stumble across another line, earning his brothers’ ire, or worse, the Kaminoans.

Thankfully, this reg– Hardcase laughed with an easy smile before sitting down. “We do! Practically twins, if I do say so myself.” He said, flexing a predictably reg-sized bicep, earning a returning laugh from Wrecker. Unfortunately, this sparked a few more laughs than he’d been expecting, and the reg’s smile turned a little strained and confused by the time that Wrecker finally stopped, panting a little bit.

“S-Sorry. ‘S from my head injury. Once I start laughing, it’s hard to stop.” He explained, and the reg made a noise of understanding before nodding. “Makes sense; I think there’s a Commando in the 212th who’s got the same thing.”

“Really?! I-I’m a Commando too!” Wrecker grinned, realizing belatedly that he’d stated the obvious, given his nonstandard armor, but too excited to care. 

“Yeah; his name’s Gregor. Only met him a few times, but he seems like a solid vod, if a little chatty. Not that I can really complain though.” He grinned self-deprecatingly. “Kix, my batcher, always says that my mouth moves faster than my common sense, but that’s usually just because he hasn’t had his morning kaff yet.”

“Sounds like my Sarg, H-Hunter.” Wrecker offered.

“Heh, well Kix is a medic, which is twice as bad! My trainers always said there was a leak in my growth tube or something, which made me hyperactive, I guess, but I say it’s just my natural charm. Not my fault he can’t handle all this before 0900.” He smirked, leaning back in his chair, earning a returned smile from Wrecker, who was finally starting to relax in the other’s presence.

“Tech says I’ve got bad impulse control.” Wrecker said, earning an encouraging look from Hardcase.

“Yeah? We've probably got that in common, then.”

“Yeah. He says it’s part of m-my head injury, but he suspects it’s always been there, with my enhancements an’ all.” 

“Enhancements?” Hardcase asked, looking intrigued.

“Yeah! I’ve got extra strength, compared to most troopers. I-I can lift a gunship if I try.” He grinned proudly. 

“I’m a little jealous, vod.” Hardcase returned the grin. “I’ve been working on it in rehab, but on bad days, I can barely lift my Z-6.” He was only in his lower armor for rehab, so he didn’t hesitate to shrug off his shirt to show Wrecker his scar. 

Wrecker gave a noise of admiration as he saw the extent of his scarring, as well as the detailed tattoo-work of a Krayt dragon covering most of it. “I got this blowing up a Seppie supply ship! Still gives me trouble most days, but Patch, the rehab medic, he’s got all these ideas to help manage it, which is great. Speaking of which, where is he?”

Wrecker looked towards the door with a shrug just as Patch ran in, panting slightly. “Sorry I’m late, vode! Kix said he’d wake me, but I guess he forgo– Hardcase, where is your shirt?!” 

Patch asked, looking briefly scandalized, prompting an uncontrollable fit of laughter from both troopers. And as Wrecker wiped tears out of his eyes, he decided that maybe some regs weren't so bad.

[insidekaz]

And Thus, Everything Is Tumbling Down

(I know that's a weird way to start another one of my strange post. It'll be explained later. Prepare for a pretty lengthy blog today.)

Hello people of the internet. It's me, Kaz, your local enby who messed up so hard that they put themselves on the couch, only for my partner to come and get me and bring me to bed. Before you say anything, I know that that's also a strange way to start off a post that basically going to turn into a public self-shaming post, but try to trust me when I say that all of this will be explained in the next few minutes (well, hours for me. I don't exactly plan on sitting down and typing all of this out in one sitting.)

I'll start off by saying that I've been stressed lately. No job, places saying that they're hiring but not calling me back, the cost of living being diabolically bonkers, all of that. Doesn't help that while I'm at home applying for jobs and doing side hustles, my partner is pulling extra hours at its job to make sure that we don't drown in this capitalistic economy.

That's not the reason why I feel like everything's falling faster than a tower of Jenga blocks. The reason is because of one major flaw with my personal psychological programming and how I go about trying (and failing) to fix it. Man, this post sure is colorful today. Anyway, I have this...thing in my head that annoys me if there's information that's made apparent that I don't know or the possibility of an event that can happen. For example, if someone were to tell me "Hey, I'm planning a surprise for you.", it'll start to bother me to no end until I gather all the information needed figure out what that surprise could be, thus spoiling the surprise for myself in the process. Or, and this is the more relevant example, if there's something that I'm made aware could result in something bad happen, I, for some fucking reason, act upon my impulses and try to get that bad thing to happen. Usually, I'm stopped before said bad thing could happen and that usually calms me down for the time being.

Yes, it's just as infuriating as you're thinking it is, both of me and everyone around me. Yes, I have tried to control this impulses in the past. And yes, I have continuously failed to keep these impulses under control.

This time, this was different. I'm not going to go into exact detail of what happened, but I will alluded to the idea that I almost invoked a pretty bad situation that almost ended in property damage. Of course, as always, the chaos was halted. Yet, that doesn't make the situation magically better. I know, shocker. Above all of that, it was my significant other that had to calm everything down. I'm not gonna lie or try to justifying what most people would think and say "Oh, it was the autism making me do those things." That would be disrespectful to other people with autism and just blatant dishonesty. I will admit and say that those were conscious actions that I made of my own accord, me allowing and enabling the impulsive thoughts to (somewhat) win. This was a situation that didn't need to happen between the two of us, and now things are more than rocky.

Oh, and then get this! Yesterday afternoon, after being on no-talking terms for about a full day (Thursday night to Friday evening), we actually get to talk about what happen. Well, it was less both of us talking and it was more my partner talking and pointing out my bullshit and me just, well, taking it. I mean, I couldn't really refute anything that was being said to me. This wasn't the first time that I allowed my impulse to get the better of me, nor could I really apologize again cause, while it would be meaningful, I couldn't guarantee that this wouldn't happen again. I'm a person of chaos, advocate for the viewership of each and every possible outcome that can happen on a quantum scale, leaning more towards the good ones, yet the bad ones always pique my curiosity. So, with no other options in which I believed I could contribute to the conversation, you wanna take a shot in the dark as to what my next actions were?

I ran away. I'm not even kidding. Imagine the most brisk walk from a living room to an office on the other side of the apartment that you can, all while keeping my head down to avoid any further eye contact. ...Yeah. I did that. Willingly if I may add.

I know, 10/10. Amazing strategy there Kaz. Encore, please. But seriously, I don't know what the fuck I was thinking at the time and I still don't know now. My usual avoidance of conflict has basically turned into a fear of conflict at this point in my life. I mean, seriously, what was I thinking? Nothing's gonna get better by me hiding in my office. Even when I was done for the night and put myself on the couch, my partner realized I wasn't in bed and came to get me. I could've talked about it then. Hell, I could've said something, anything. Yet, I didn't. I just rolled over and went to bed, allowing the silence to go on ever longer. Again, what does that say about us? What does that say about me? Usually at this point in the relationship, one would be asking themselves whether they're becoming a burden to their partner, but is that a question I can even ask myself? Have I ever not been a burden to them? Am I becoming a burden to both of my partners? Like I said, I could've said the smallest thing, even a "good night", but I didn't. I just...laid there and fell asleep, probably making them think that I had just forgotten about everything or just didn't care.

I'm unpredictable. I'm loud when it comes to my chaotic ideas, Yet, I'm silent when it comes to apologizing. I'm confident when it comes to my aspirations, But timid when it comes to admitting I'm wrong. I'm constantly writing, constantly thinking, constantly typing out my ideas, words in which I'll write a million of to get my imaginations across, Yet I can't find the words when they matter most. ...the fuck's wrong with you Kameron?

I've got all these big ideas, these dreams, these ambitions of what I want my life to be, where I want to be, who I want to be with. I've written miles and miles of short stories, beginnings of novels, documents within documents of world-building. I'm able to do all this, but I can never seem to find the words when they're needed to be said.

How does one say that they're sorry when they've shown otherwise?

How do I get over these feelings about myself?

[nebulous-frog]

hoping for more (Ch1/10)

Relationships: Jon/Martin/Tim, QPR Tim/Sasha

Summary: Tim wishes Jon and Martin would warm up to each other- the archives can’t handle much more of this awkward, tense energy. When Martin starts living at the archives, things begin to change. Tim sees an opportunity to ease the tension, get Martin and Jon more in sync, tease his friends goodnaturedly, and fall in love. Wait, fall in love?? Oh, dear. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’s sure he’ll be happy so long as they’re happy… (and they’re sure he’s a crucial piece of that arrangement)

AN: This is for the @bunnies-in-the-archives event! This fic got... much longer than I'd expected, lol, so I've broken it up into chapters that I'll be posting soon (aiming for one every few days, depending on my work schedule! They're ready to go, it just takes a bit of coordination to get them out lol).

My wonderful artist is @yakov-ukha, who made some fantastic art that I could stare at all day! Massive thank-you to you <3 

Link to AO3   Fics Masterlist ART

Martin took a deep breath at the base of the steps of the Institute. The last few days had been rough, but it was Friday. He’d keep his head down, do his work, and have a nice self care weekend to forget all about it. He just had to make it through the day.

 As he opened the door, he heard a voice call his name.

 “Martin! Wait up!” Tim came bounding up the steps, a tray of to-go mugs precariously tipping in one hand and a paper bag clutched in the other. 

 “Morning, Tim,” Martin replied as he held the door. He mustered up a smile, pretending he wasn’t as tired as he felt. 

 “Thanks, wasn’t sure what my plan was here,” Tim joked, gesturing with his full hands at the door and crossing the threshold. 

 Martin nodded and followed Tim inside. “Of course. What’s all that for?” 

 “Just some morning goodies for the crew. I’ve got some muffins in the bag for everyone, plus everyone’s drink orders. Things have felt a bit… tense this week, wanted to end it on a high note. There may or may not be an extra treat for my favorite former library assistant.” Tim grinned and bumped Martin’s arm with his elbow.

 Martin laughed, blushing. “Oh, that’s nice of you. It’s definitely been a bit of a tough week, it’ll be nice to have a good start today.” 

 “Sure thing, man, you deserve it,” Tim said with a wink. 

 The muffins weren’t just for the group morale, Martin knew. They weren’t even just a pick-me-up for him, specifically. He noticed the way Jon’s eyebrows raised in surprise and interest for a moment before dropping back into his affected scowl- his clear attempt at seeming more in control and boss-like- and he noticed how Jon’s posture and steps weren’t as severe as usual. It sucked that his boss needed treats in a bid to boost his mood so he wouldn’t be so mean, but Martin couldn’t argue with the results. For the first time all week, he made it through the whole morning and most of the afternoon without any conflict with Jon, either in the bullpen or in Jon’s office. 

 Unfortunately, he didn’t quite make it to the end of the day. About an hour before they would all clock out, Jon’s door opened suddenly. 

 “Martin,” Jon barked. He was glaring down at a file Martin was fairly certain he had delivered to his desk earlier that afternoon.  “I need to speak with you immediately.” He turned around and disappeared from the doorway.

 Martin felt Sasha and Tim’s worried glances as he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to brace himself before walking across the room to face whatever he’d apparently done wrong this time.

 Out in the bullpen, Tim pulled out a sticky note and quickly folded it into a little origami heart. He drew a duck wearing a top hat, hoping the randomness would surprise a smile out of Martin whenever this impromptu meeting ended, and he rested it on Martin’s keyboard. Sasha nodded at him approvingly, and they both turned back to their work to wait.

 A few minutes later, Tim looked up when he heard Jon’s door shut. Martin was walking out, face bright red, looking utterly exhausted.

 “Hey, Martin. You okay?” Tim asked cautiously.

 Martin startled, seemingly lost in his head. He looked up and briefly met Tim’s eye before looking anywhere else. “I- Yes, I’m fine. It’s just- it’s fine. Just didn’t include my citations properly again. I’ll just… I’ll be in the break room for a minute.” He nodded to himself, then walked to his desk to pick up his mug on the way out the door. 

 Sasha caught Tim’s eye and gestured with her head towards Martin’s retreating figure. Tim sighed and stood to follow. 

 A promotion to a job like this definitely was stressful, Tim told himself. Of course Jon’s been acting differently. Gertrude left the archives surely worse than she found them, to a degree where even a conservative estimate would suggest it would take decades to undo her mess. Jon didn’t have archival experience or a degree in it, and Elias was always pushing for more. It made total sense that Jon’s stress was such that he’d turned into a bit of a dick. 

 It just hurt that Jon hadn’t seemed to have noticed. 

 When he entered the break room, Martin was shuffling some boxes of tea around in the cabinet and the electric kettle was already heating. 

 “Do you want to talk about it?” Tim asked, standing in the doorframe. 

 Martin sighed, shoulders slumping, arm still outstretched in the tea cabinet. “I- I don’t know what to say.” He settled on some chamomile and pulled it out with two mugs.

 Tim knew chamomile wasn’t Martin’s first choice, knew that he only picked it because Tim liked it. He wished Martin would make whatever would actually soothe himself, but he didn’t say anything; Martin was the sort of person who relaxed most when his care instincts could be used on someone else. 

 “That’s understandable.” Tim took the milk from the fridge and passed it over, then leaned back against the counter.

 “I’m just- I don’t know what to do anymore? I don’t- I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong, it seems like there’s always something new.” 

 Tim nodded sympathetically. “If it helps, I don’t think it’s anything to do with you, really.” 

 Martin scoffed. “What do you mean? He only ever chews me out, I know you and Sasha have noticed. Definitely feels like it’s me.” 

 “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Tim reassured quickly. “He’s absolutely the harshest with you in totally unjustifiable ways. I just meant that while you’re the target, it’s not necessarily personal.” 

 Martin shot him a look that clearly conveyed every ounce of skepticism he contained.

 Tim’s lips quirked in a small smile. “I know, I know. Jon just knew me and Sasha back in research, we have history. Jon and I have been friends a long time, and he knows Sasha would eviscerate him if he was this nitpicky with her. He hasn’t given you a chance and he hasn’t given you the benefit of the doubt, so he’s decided you’re an easy target for his stress. That’s not excusing it, not by any means- he needs to get it together and do better- I only mean that it’s really not you. It’s him.” 

 The kettle clicked off and Martin began pouring the tea in silence for a moment. He sighed again. 

 “Yeah. Has he always been like this?” 

 Tim shrugged. “Sort of? Not this intense, but he’s not the most aware and he didn’t particularly handle his stress well in research, either. But he’s gotten more uptight and less personable. He used to laugh at my jokes and make his own jokes. He’d get this little grin whenever he’d manage to make someone laugh, it was always…” Tim sighed and shook his head, clearing it of the memories of that cute smile and the adorable snort noise Jon would make if he was surprised enough with a joke. Jon’s cute idiosyncrasies were not the point. “I think the stress of this job has really affected him.” 

 Martin hummed and blew on his tea before taking a sip. “That makes sense. I wish I’d gotten to know him before now. Maybe this would’ve been easier.” 

 “Maybe, yeah. I’m going to try to get him to get away more, at least get him to do something outside of work every once in a while. Maybe that’ll help him relax a bit? I miss my friend, and I’m tired of watching you walk out of his office all sad. It’s not fair of him to be like this.” 

 “Oh. Yeah, I suppose. Just… don’t tell him we talked about this, yeah?” 

 Tim shot Martin a horrified look. “Of course not! What happens in the break room stays in the break room. I’ve got your back. Besides, getting him to chill out wouldn’t just hopefully help you, it could also make the whole work culture better, make my job easier to do, and maybe even get my friend back, at least a bit. Trust me, I’ve been thinking about this a lot now, and especially after this week. Something has to change.” 

 A small smile graced Martin’s lips. “Right. I’m glad it’s not just me being sensitive, that you’ve noticed it, too.” 

 “Definitely. And Sasha has, too. We much prefer it when you’ve got that smile brightening the room,” Tim said with a wink. 

 Martin snorted and rolled his eyes. “Okay, that’s enough of that, then. I’m getting back to work.” 

 As they left the break room together, Tim graciously did not mention Martin’s blush.

[returntosaturn271995]

Saturday, August 10th: A sentence or two for the last 11 days- because the faintest of ink is better than the best memory

God once offered me perfect breasts or a perfect memory- I forget which one I chose.

All jokes aside- here's a vague social calendar for August so far. The vibes have been immaculate but could use some of the basic organization and self-discipline I occasionally dabble in.

Wednesday, July 31st: Ran 4 miles, made Keith schnitzel before he headed off to Vegas

Thursday, August 1st: I honestly can't find any evidence this day even happened, which is ironic because the quote I wrote down for it was "accountability is power". I assume I paid some bills, which is nice.

Friday, August 2nd: Haley, Monika and I went out drinking and dining downtown at Lumi and I lost my car keys like a fucking idiot. Didn't let it ruin the night though. I wore a hot pink dress with a gold clasp in the front and Monika wore a crop top to distract from her peg leg- it's giving pirate wench chic.

Saturday, August 3rd: Got my car keys back! A very annoyed uber driver delivered them unto me. Thanks Tile! All the fake nails I pressed on fell off. Went on a long walk with Maddy in a baby blue outfit to get smoothies. Posted on IG: "Is there a clean girl aesthetic where two showers later your eye-makeup is still on?". Made a peach and goat cheese pizza while Keith sent me filthy texts from Vegas.

Sunday, August 4th: According to my to-do list, I walked to my car and incurred the wrath of newly purchased vans blistering my heels. (Nate actually noticed my car across from his house because it's beat up, 25 years old, a BMW and not at all a metaphor for my life). I wiped down the bathroom and my dressers and took out the trash. Keith came over and we grabbed sushi in PB, the waiter winked too much. I wore a graphic tee, black slip dress, and carried cherry red handbag.

Monday, August 5th: Finished House of The Dragon, read, caught up on the news, and made Keith and I tomato basil pasta with breadcrumbs and parmesan. Kirby called asking to hang out, apparently he's doesn't want the current girl he's dating to be his gf, is it wrong that I'm oddly relieved?

Tuesday, August 6th: For lunch I made myself spicy quesadillas with sour cream. Then after some mild peer pressure I went out to the ball game AKA the VOLO team that so far has broken Monika's ankle and Brielle's arm in three places. We just sat there, drank wine, and DJed. After some swift losing, we went to the Old Town Saloon afterwards and Keith ended up joining us. Turns out he knows Eli from a business lunch in SF years ago. The world is tiny. Keith and I ended up getting Taco Bell and I introduced him to the Cheesy Gordita Crunch.

Wednesday, August 7th: Canceled my plans because holy fuck was I tired. I made some black bean and veggie stuffed peppers, cleaned the kitchen, read, grocery shopped, started birth control, and took a very nice shower.

Thursday, August 8th: Kirby came over for fried chicken sandwiches and the sunset at Wind and Sea. Wore a white denim dress and he took photos of me at golden hour. I gave him some books I thought he'd like: Mathew Perry's autobiography and David Sedaris's "Naked". He asked if I ever gave back his sunglasses. "No." I lied. Then I changed in to my, "Play Something Emo" shirt, Keith came over, and we watched the beginning of the final season of The Umbrella Academy. Our Chemical Romance.

Friday, August 9th: A lot of sleeping with vivid dreams. Not sure what any of it means or why I can go down so hard. Factory re-set. Kind of nice. Keith texted to let me know that he paid for an elderly women's flowers in line at the grocery store (where he was probably buying Kombucha or a twisted tea), but she welled up and said thank you. I believe that he did it, there's something romantic and generous to his character- even if he's still kind of a douche in a bunch of other ways. Why must people have layers??

Saturday, August 10th: I woke up ready. Threw on my yellow work out set, did some skincare, and the walked to grab breakfast supplies for the week. I took my meds, went on the briefest of runs (it all counts!), and meditated on pattern interruption. Why stumbles don't have to become falls. I did the laundry while watching My Lady Jane, began planning next week, and ate at home. Bonnie's second baby was born, a girl named Solvei ("Sunny" if she ends up cheerful). Tala's reaction to having a baby sister? "I'm so mad right now, cause I love my baby so much".

That's a she wrote, folks! For now.

[subbykboys]

the bad boy’s secret | chanyeol

↳ pairing : badboy!chanyeol x reader

Genre ➞ bad boy AU, fwb AU, college AU, smut

Warnings ➞ sub!chanyeol, dom!reader, bondage, oral (m. & f. receiving), edging, unprotected sex, riding, mild dirty talk, mild degrading, creampie, face riding, cum eating [ sorry not sorry ], reader is in denial , overuse of the word please

Word Count ➞ 8.2k

chanyeol is a bad boy with a nasty reputation. he’s sexy, mysterious, and entirely untouchable. well... to most people, that is. to you, on the other hand-- he’s something else entirely.

posted ; 6.04.20

there was an angry chill in the air. it bit at your face and hands as you strode to the campus lot where your car was parked. all around you, brightly colored leaves fell to the earth as strong gusts of wind broke them free of the branches they so weakly clung to. they blanketed the ground in shades of vibrant reds, tempting oranges, and dull, blotchy browns. 

it was actually really beautiful. you'd always been a fan of the cool undertones of fall. especially the reds. ugh, red was such a gorgeous color. practically everything you owned was red, or some varying shade of it. it was just so sexy and dangerous and— 

"(y/n)!" you were snapped from your inner thoughts by a barking voice. 

quickly, you averted your eyes from the ground and onto the face of the girl walking beside you. her name is Mina, you're pretty sure. you grimaced at her irritated expression, realizing you must have zoned out again. getting lost in your thoughts at inappropriate times was a pretty frequent occurrence for you. 

"huh?" 

she scoffed in disbelief, eyes narrowing, "where's your head at? i've been talking for a solid five minutes and i'm pretty sure you stopped listening six minutes ago."

you chuckled, scratching the back of your neck as an apologetic smile touched your lips, "sorry. i was just thinking about the leaves." 

"you're so weird." 

you didn't know why she felt comfortable saying that to you. you weren't even friends. at least, not by your standards. maybe acquaintances. maybe. 

and that was only because you happened to have the same afternoon photography class and just so happened to sit next to each other. you supposed in her pea sized brain that was enough to qualify for a friendship. but you had standards. and she was god damn rude. 

regardless, you didn't have the energy or patience to start any sort of altercation. so you shrug, head bobbing lazily in agreement. 

"i know."

that seemed to satisfy her as any remaining glimmer of annoyance was swept off her features with one last eye roll and replaced by a light grin, "whatever. hey, there's this party at my boyfriend's frat house tonight and you should totally come." 

"no thanks." was your swift, concise rejection. but of course, that was not enough to satisfy her. 

"what? why not?" her tone demanded an explanation that you really didn't feel like giving. 

sighing heavily, you kicked a pebble across the sidewalks. "parties aren't my thing." 

that was maybe half the truth. you actually did like parties. just not frat boy parties. they were like beacons for girls with low self esteem and insecure rich boys with superiority complexes. they were loud as fuck and made your head ache. not to mention they reeked. apparently, a lot of guys didn't learn in high school how to put on deodorant. your preference stood with more low key parties, with a more controlled number of attendees and some chill drinking. maybe getting a little baked if you were in that vibe. 

"you can be such a buzzkill," she groaned loudly, head rolling back as she stomped her foot childishly. you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

"i know." 

"do you ever just let yourself have a good time? like ever? we're in the prime of our lives for god’s sake!" and there she goes again with the 'prime of our lives' bullshit. please. maybe this was the best life would ever be for her, but you had other plans. 

"i have to finish an essay for my business class." no you didn't. 

"but it's friday! you have all weekend to finish it!" why was she trying to argue with you? you'd already said no, so why was she still trying to convince you. spoiler, you weren't about to change your mind anytime soon. 

"i prefer not to put work off until the very last minute." also a lie. 

"(y/n)," she whined, "come on, i personally think it would be pretty healthy for you not to spend another friday night pent up in that little apartment of yours—" 

all at once she was cut off by the distinct roaring of an engine. both your gazes shifted towards the road ahead of you, watching as a flashy red motorcycle came tearing down the street. an excited gasp exploded from your–barely–acquaintance's mouth while a low groan escaped yours. 

fantastic. just what you needed. your daily dose of—

"Yeolie!"

you winced as she squealed his name, waving energetically. you silent prayed he'd just keep going. but of course, he didn't. his bike came to a gradual halt in front of the sidewalk you stood on. it purred as he planted his feet securely on the cement. 

now this next part you could almost see happening in slow motion. 

he reached up with his leather glove clad hands, pulling off his sleek black helmet to reveal a pair of thick, pink lips, a sharp, defined nose, charcoal black eyes, and a head of silver locks. you could practically feel Mina swooning as he swung his head to the side, effectively flipping his hair like some kind of wannabe fetus Justin Bieber. it took less than a moment for those dark eyes to fall on the pair of you, and a slow smirk to crawl across his face. 

Mina immediately rushed up to him (all too energetically for someone who already has a boyfriend, mind you), squeaking out sweet greetings as her touchy hands found purchase on the sleeve of his leather jacket. 

what was up with him and the leather anyway? it was only on shockingly rare occasions that you witnessed him donning something other than his signature black leather outfit, decorated with silver zippers and complimented by a thick chain around his neck and a single silver earring. how much cheesier could he get? 

you'd think after high school, people would be over the whole 'bad boys are so hot' thing. 

apparently not. 

because at your uni, Park Chanyeol was hot shit. every girl and every guy wanted to get their hands on him in one way or another. he was dangerous, sexy, mysterious, hard to get. he rode a blood red motorcycle and smoked blunts behind the main building for god's sake. 

he was the definition of a cliche. but it seemed you were the only person that could see through his whole charade. 

"(y/n), don't be rude! come say hi to Yeolie!" Mina suddenly whipped around, waving you over. 

this bitch— 

the corner of your lip twitched in a subtle sneer, but, ever the pacifist, you obliged, slowly moving to stand at her side. his irritating smirk widened upon your approach, tongue swinging over the corner of his lip as his eyes dropped to do a brief once over. 

"Chanyeol," you grunted with a less than enthusiastic tone. 

"(y/n)," was his swift reply, voice as deep and smooth as ever, "wonderful seeing you again. you look as happy-go-lucky as ever." 

the sarcasm was palpable. 

"yeah well, it seems i just can't contain myself with you around," you bit back with just as much satire, lips curling dryly. 

"i'm flattered," he all but cooed, head tilting downward as his teeth latched onto his bottom lip. 

he stared boldly into your eyes, and you stared right back with just as much fire. 

"um... do you guys, like... know each other?" 

"no."

"yes."

you both responded simultaneously.

confusion plastered itself across her face, eyes jumping back and forth from your face to his. a taunting smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "we actually went to the same high school, isn't that right, (y/n)?" 

you huffed in annoyance, shoulders slumping, "yeah. we did." 

"and you never told me this because…?" 

because you weren't close in the least and you hadn't even told her when your birthday was let alone about your high school life. 

"didn't seem like important information." 

she gaped at you in disbelief, "anything regarding my Yeolie is important information!" 

was she trying to stroke his already colossal ego? if his head got any bigger, it might just explode.

Chanyeol’s grin broadened at her statement, and you silently groaned, knowing exactly what was coming before he even opened his mouth, "yeah, (y/n). anything regarding me is important information. so why didn't you tell her? trying to keep me all for yourself? how greedy of you." 

"please." you scoffed.

Mina glared at you sharply before plastering an innocent smile across her face and twirling a strand of her platinum blonde dyed hair. "ignore her, Yeolie. i was actually wondering if i'd be seeing you at Jake's party tonight?" 

"wasn't planning on it," he admitted, and Mina pouted, lips puckering, over dramatically whining in protest. suddenly, his eyes shifted to you, that stupid smirk touching his features,  "but maybe if a certain buzzkill was attending... i'd be more tempted to make an appearance." 

buzzkill? oh, you. 

"i'm not—"

"of course (y/n)'s coming! wouldn't be a party without her!" Mina rushed to cut you off, throwing an arm over your shoulder and yanking you into her side with a grip tight enough to bruise. you looked at her like she was crazy, brows furrowed, eyes wide, lip raised in a disgusted sneer. but her hold was enough to squeeze the air out of your lungs and steal away your ability to refute. 

Chanyeol’s brows jumped in surprise, an amused grin spreading across his face, "really?"

"wait, no—"

"yes! i was surprised when she agreed, too! but guess she's finally breaking out of her shell!" you were going to kick her ass if she kept cutting you off. 

"well isn't that great to hear." there was a mischievous flicker in his dark eyes, a look you knew all too well. 

"so... you'll come?" she asked hopefully.

"sure." you were annoyed at how easily he agreed. he was still smirking smugly as he began pulling his helmet back down over his head. shooting you a wink and a two fingered wave, he spoke again, "see ya tonight." 

with that final word, he was speeding off down the road, tires kicking up dust and pebbles as they spun. 

as soon as Mina's grip loosened from around you, you were ten feet away, swiftly walking in the direction of your car. "(y/n)! wait!" she cried out, running after you in her five inch heels. you didn't slow down in the least. 

"i'm not going, Mina," you said sternly, not even bothering to look back at her. 

"b–but i told Chanyeol—" 

"no." 

"please?"

"not. happening." 

⋄⋆⋄

you ended up going. 

not because you wanted to, of course. but because Mina decided it was necessary to show up at your apartment and quite literally drag you out. she was surprisingly strong for such a small person, and fiercely persistent. she'd even gone the extra mile of forcefully applying makeup to your eyelids and lips. that's not to say you didn't put up one hell of a fight. but conflict was never your strong suite, and you eventually ended up going pliant under her ministrations. 

unsurprisingly, it was just as you expected it to be. loud. stinky. and filled to the brim with horny bastards looking for a quick fuck. you'd been there for all of ten minutes and you'd already gotten your ass grabbed six times. slimy assholes think it's acceptable to touch someone without permission. all the more reason you didn't want to stick around for long. 

not to mention, Mina had ditched you the minute you walked in the door to suck faces with her fuckboy boyfriend. since then you'd been gravitating from room to room, searching for the best place to sit without being squished by a horny couple practically dry humping against you. 

luckily, you found your solace upstairs in an empty bedroom. the music was muffled the moment you shut the door, the stuffy air that smelled of sweat and marijuana also clearing out. finally, you could breathe. 

you spotted a candle and lighter on the bedside table, and quickly moved to light it. the dull, soothing glow that filled the room, splashing light across the walls made the headache that had begun to swell at your temples ease up. exhaling softly, you fell back onto the neatly made bed, body relaxing into the soft duvet. 

but of course, your moment of tranquility was short lasting. 

because before you could so much as shut your eyes, the door was opening, and a painfully familiar voice was purring, "there you are~ i've been looking all over for you, (y/n), you sly girl." 

"fucking hell," you growled under your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows to face him properly, "what do you want, Chanyeol?" 

he gently nudged the door shut behind him, before walking over to where you lay. "isn't it obvious?" he murmured, leaning forward to press his hands against the mattress on either side of your ankles. 

"spell it out for me." 

he chuckled softly, knees meeting the bedding as he began to crawl upwards, until his face was hovering over yours. even you couldn't deny how beautiful he looked up close, with those big, dark eyes, boyishly grinning lips, smooth, tan skin... 

"i," he began, nose nudging against your cheek, "want," his lips feathered over yours, "you." 

a dark chuckle rolled off your tongue as you met his hooded, lustful gaze. "you we're so greedy last time... and still... you couldn't get enough," you replied smoothly, voice deepening as your desire for him grew. 

"what can i say? i'm insatiable." 

you scoffed, the corners of your lips curling as you lifted your head slightly, leaving only the tiniest of spaces between your mouth, "i don't think you deserve it." your whisper caressed his lips all too temptingly. A chill rolled down his spine, eyes fluttering as he felt himself falter briefly. 

"maybe i don't... but i can earn it..." 

now that caught your interest. 

a smirk touched your features, "and how might you do that?" 

he bit his lip, trying his best to subdue a grin, "by doing whatever you ask of me." 

"you willing to take that risk? after that little stunt earlier? i might just decide not to go easy on you." your voice was taunting, but the challenge and threat were very real. 

"i can handle anything you give me." 

you raised a brow, amused by his naive confidence. then, in the blink of an eye, you had him underneath you, pinning his wrists to the mattress above his head. the action had been so sudden that he could only gasp in shock when his back collided with the bed. you stared down at him with dark eyes, the tip of your tongue sliding over the corner of your mouth. 

"you sure about that, big boy?" 

he inhaled deeply when your head lowered to the curve of his throat, lips just barely grazing over that sensitive spot. "most definitely." he let out breathlessly, eyes fluttering as he tilted his chin back, offering himself to you. something dark alighted in your eyes, a sinister gleam in your smirk as thoughts of how you could absolutely ruin him flooded your mind. 

"you're going to regret saying that." 

you didn’t offer him the opportunity to respond before your lips crashed down on his. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the sudden action, but quickly relaxed beneath you, returning the kiss eagerly. 

see? you much preferred Chanyeol when he wasn’t running that big mouth of his. he was always so much more fun when he was choking on desperate moans and trembling uncontrollably under your touch. 

truth about the infamous Park Chanyeol? he was a bitch. 

in fact... he was your bitch. 

it started back in high school. when you were the chill girl who wasn't too well known by anyone outside of your friend group, and when he was the untouchable bad boy that everyone drooled over. 

to keep it to the point, you'd both attended a mutual friend's party your senior year, got wasted, and hooked up. 

but, it wasn't what you'd expected it to be. no, because you'd expect Chanyeol to be the kind of guy to pin a girl (or guy) down and dominate the fuck out of them. but the moment your voice took on an authoritative pitch, he was putty in your hands, whining and moaning and begging... it stirred something to life inside of you that you had no idea was there. 

and it was good. really good. so good, in fact, he came running back to you within the next week practically begging for more. and shit, you gave it to him. he was one of the first guys you'd dominated like that. it was empowering, controlling a guy as big as Chanyeol was. it was an addictive sensation. 

but you'd made it very clear from the beginning that it was going to be nothing more than sex. it wasn't romantic, you weren't friends, and you had no intention of getting to know him on a deeper level than his body. though, he seemed suspiciously intent on worming his way into your life one way or another. the boy was relentless. luckily, you were equally as stubborn. a match made in hell, aren’t you? what a spectacle. 

you drew away from the kiss at the feeling of his tongue prodding at your lips, a low whine following soon after. you scoffed softly at the sight of his pouting face, “so needy.” 

“you can only blame yourself.” he shot back easily, eyes already hooded and darkened with lust. excitement glimmered within them as you reached down between your bodies, fingers slowly undoing his belt. 

“is that right?” you murmured, not breaking eye contact for a single moment, a lazy smirk resting on your face. he swallowed, trembling pupils jumping noncommittally from your intense stare down to where you were making easy work of his belt buckle. 

“i— yes.” you don’t think he knew what he was saying yes to, his mind already becoming a muddled mess from the promise of what the night had in store for the two of you. his rationality had a nasty habit of hopping out the window whenever you got him in this position. 

“what are you hoping happens tonight, Chanyeol?” you asked softly, slowly pulling his belt from the first loop of his jeans. 

he swallowed thickly, head beginning to swing back and forth is slow swoops. “i– i don’t—” his voice broke off with a strangled whine as you allowed your fingertips to caress ever so gently over the ever growing tent in his pants. 

you raised a brow into a questioning arch, stifling a smirk of amusement at his already flustered state. “it’s a simple question.” 

his cheeks pinkened. “i just… want you.” it almost came out more as a question than a statement, words shy and hesitant. 

“want me to what?” you pressed. 

“to… to kiss me.” his gaze fell onto your lips, his own parting. 

“kiss you?” you repeated, tone on the verge of taunting. “asking for a lot there, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

you were teasing him, but he didn’t seem to mind, blinking slowly as he dragged his tongue over the pink swell of his thick lower lip. “want you to touch me…” his voice lowered an octave, deep, lustful eyes looking up at you intensely. 

“where?” 

“everywhere.” he replied without missing a beat. “anywhere. just— just want your hands. or your mouth. i’ll take anything that you give me… but you already know that.” 

you really loved the sound of his voice when he got like this. it was softer than cotton and smoother than silk, rumbling so deep in his chest that you could almost mistake it for purring. it spilled off his lips like the thickest, sweetest honey, so lush and lovely, dripping with shameless desire. something about it was so soothing. and the sounds he made were even better, his guttural groans and melodic moans were nothing short of symphonies. and you were the conductor. 

chuckling, you smirked down at him. “you’re right. i do already know that.” he gasped as you suddenly yanked his belt completely free. “now be a good little bitch and grab onto the headboard.” 

he eagerly complied, capturing his lip between his teeth as he watched you bind his wrists above his head. his eyes slowly dragged over your face, drifting over the length of your neck, following the smooths swells of your chest beneath your black tank top. a low groan slid from his lips as you pressed your hips forward slightly, just barely grinding against his growing erection. his eyes snapped up at the sound of your soft laughter. 

“my eyes are up here, sweetheart.” you hummed, pulling his belt taught before looping it around one of the vertical wooden bars. 

“and beautiful eyes they are.” he grinned up at you in that boyishly charming way, shooting you a playful wink. you scoffed, hands drifting down to rest on his firm chest before one raised to grip his jaw, tilting his head upward. lowering your own head, you allowed your lips to caress teasingly over his. 

“maybe i should gag you, too. keep that pretty mouth in check,” you mused, dragging your thumb slowly over his full lips, “but unfortunately i think i enjoy the sound of your voice almost as much as you do. especially when you're moaning my name. god it’s so hot.” 

you almost growled as he took your finger into his mouth, moaning softly around it. you swooped down, swiftly replacing your finger with your lips. the kiss was deep, rough, and hungry. distracted by your weaponized tongue, he didn’t process that you were unbuttoning his jeans until they were being pushed down his thighs and your hand was gripping his arousal through his thin black boxers. 

“fuck, (y/n),” he groaned deeply into your mouth, arms gently tugging against their restraints. you dragged your lips away from his, face lowering so that you could suck your mark onto the expanse of his neck. he sighed blissfully, hot breath rushing over your ear as he subtly rolled his hips, body temperature rising steadily. you bit down on his collarbone, hands pushing up under his shirt to feel at his toned, well built torso. he was so hard, muscles rigid and protruding, so warm to the touch. 

it was rather amazing. a guy as big as Chanyeol, as strong and as confident, could easily get the upper hand over you if he wanted. he could flip you over and pin you down without so much as breaking a sweat. but he didn’t. he let you pin him down, tie him up, dominate him, mind and body. he allowed himself to submit to you, to be taken by you: slowly, quickly, roughly, gently, he didn’t care, but dammit he enjoyed every second of it. and if that didn’t give you a rush of power, then you don’t know what could. 

goosebumps rose across his honeyed skin as you pushed his shirt up to fully expose his tight body to your ravenous eyes, a chill rolling down his spine when you lowered your mouth to latch onto the smooth swell of his pectoral. he moaned quietly, back arching as you peppered kisses down his abdomen, slowly shifting lower, lower, lower… until your face was level with his bulge. 

a sound of excitement flooded past his lips, his breathing becoming rapid and deep. “really?” he asked hopefully, voice breathless and light. a slow smirk crawled across your lips and you chuckled at the way he jolted with a moan when you pressed a slow kiss to his clothed arousal. 

“really.” you hummed in confirmation. “you said you wanted my mouth, didn’t you?” 

he frantically bobbed his head. “yes. yes, god yes. please.” you almost laughed at his shameless display of desperation. he let out a deep, strained groan as you flicked your tongue over his clothed erection, head falling back. 

“ah ah, eyes on me, baby.” you scolded mildly, squeezing his thighs in warning. he lifted his head without argument, face flushed and glistening with faint perspiration, lip caught in a tight grip between his teeth, brows furrowed. 

from your viewpoint, he looked rather beautiful: arms bound above his head, exposed chest rising and falling dramatically with each deep breath, messy silver hair falling flawlessly over his hooded, lustful eyes. 

and he in turn was also quite taken by how perfect you looked between his legs: smirking lips hovering right over where he needed them most, dark, penetrating gaze making his body tremble with an unspoken need. 

your fingers slipped under the elastic of his boxers, slowly easing them down his thighs until his length sprang free. “there he is,” you murmured, tongue dragging over your lower lip as you admired him, long and thick and swollen, precum spilling over his hot, red tip. he shuddered in delight as you traced your finger over a vein. 

“(y/n)…” his usually deep voice was pleading and airy, hands curling into tight fists above his head, “please.” 

you smiled up at him innocently before delivering a teasing kitten lick to his sensitive tip. he whined softly, hips twitching as his need for you increased tenfold. 

a slightly more sadistic side of you rather enjoyed watching him squirm. perhaps it was that hidden part of you that wanted nothing more than to tease him into oblivion with insubstantial caresses and borderline torturous kisses until he was writhing helplessly and there were tears spilling from those beautiful big brown eyes. 

however, a larger part of you craved the sight of his stunning, fucked out expression. the one where his face glistened with sweat, thick pink lips swollen and red from being ruthlessly and relentlessly attacked by those pearly whites, puppy dog eyes hooded and fluttering, fighting to remain open against his mind's desire to just melt completely into the pleasure coursing like hot lava through his veins. that was the face you wanted to see more than anything. 

a broken moan flooded from his gaping mouth as you fastened your lips around his tip, the taste of his salty precum immediately lathering your tongue. he trembled as you hummed lightly around him, mouth silently forming the words ‘oh god’ as the vibrations sent sparks of pleasure shooting through his body like static shock. 

“feels good, (y/n),” he whined weakly, stomach tensing, “feels so good.” 

your response was to thrust your head down and as much of him into your mouth as possible. he cried out, hips snapping up at the feeling of your gentle sucking. you were quick to pin them back down, a warning glare darkening your gaze. 

“‘m sorry—,” he slurred, panting heavily, “i’m sorry.” he was quick to submit, fighting against the painfully strong urge to fuck himself up into your warm mouth and forcing his quivering body to go pliant beneath your ministrations. satisfied for the time being, you dragged your tongue from his base to his weeping head, tracing slow, taunting circles over his most sensitive place. 

a broken moan was all he could manage as his cock twitched tellingly, precum spilling down his throbbing length. you fixed your lips back around his tip, sucking gently. his thighs trembled at the sensation it sent shooting through his veins, a breathless ‘oh’ pulsing from his pink-bitten lips. 

“(y/n)— (y/n), if you keep doing that—” the warning was clear, but you wanted to see just how close you could bring him to his release before stealing it away last second. it was always fun to watch how hard he came down from his high when he was denied of it. it was delicious, the way he gasped and trembled, shuddering hips desperately seeking out more frictions, but never receiving it. he was so cute when he got like that. 

“you gonna come, baby?” you cooed, replacing your mouth with your hand and shifting upwards so that you could look directly into his eyes. you wanted to be able to see the look in his pretty brown eyes when you stole away his release. he whimpered, head bobbing rapidly as he caught his lower lip between his teeth. 

“please.” 

you only offered a low, contemplative hum before a wicked smirk struck your features. “not yet.” 

a sob broke from his lips as you drew away from his throbbing dick, his high stolen only moments before it could come crashing down over him. his hips bucked, desperately seeking the friction you so cruelly denied him of, but finding nothing but empty air in place of your warm touch. his muscles trembled, broken pleas spilling from his quivering lips. 

“(y-y/n), no— please,” he gasped out, arms tugging against the sturdy binds, fingers aching to touch you, grab onto you, hold you. 

you hushed him with sweet words, pressing a soothing kiss to the cut of his jaw, hands massaging the bulk of his muscular thighs and holding still his stuttering hips. 

“fuck– i hate it when you do that.” he cursed weakly, glassy eyes peering up into yours. 

“no you don’t.” you chuckled softly, brushing his damp bangs out of his face in an unexpectedly tender gesture. 

“you’re right, i don’t.” he relented easily, the corners of his lips curling subtly. 

a sudden silence fell over you, and it took you a moment to realize that he was looking at you with those eyes— the ones you knew all too well. the ones you’d told him plenty of times to drop. because those weren’t the kind of eyes you were supposed to look at a fuck buddy with. those weren’t the kind of eyes that just anybody could be on the receiving end of, most definitely not you. 

“don’t look at me like that.” you warned, hardening your expression. 

“i can’t help it.” he breathed. you felt your stomach twist. damnit. 

“then close ‘em, Park. before I decide to blindfold you, too.” 

it seemed your threat wasn’t very well received, as the smile adorning his features only expanded, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly. 

“that doesn’t sound too bad.” 

a dry laugh burst from your lips. “god, you’re so fucking submissive. how has nobody else untangled your little ruse, hm? acting all big and tough on the outside when all you really want is to be tied up and fucked like a horny little bitch. am i really the only one that’s got you figured out?” you hummed thoughtfully, tracing your fingers down his throat and caressing his collarbone. 

“you’re the only one, (y/n).” 

for some reason… you had a strange feeling that that sentence held more meaning than you were willing to decipher.  

“you tell all your little side fucks that?” you taunted, disguising the slight tremor in your chest with a dangerous smirk. 

he shook his head, gaze not wavering for a moment. “there’s no one else. only you.” 

fuck. you needed him to stop talking. so, you did the one thing that always did the trick: shoving your fingers down his throat. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the unexpected intrusion, a sound that easily melted into a low moan, his tongue immediately getting to work lapping at your digits. 

“you talk too much.” you murmured, taking him off guard and eliciting a low groan from the back of his throat as you ground yourself down on his naked length. “you came to get fucked, didn’t you, sweetheart?” 

he eagerly nodded his head, hips nudging up excitedly against your own. 

“thought so.” you chuckled. 

through wide, glassy eyes, Chanyeol watched you push yourself upright, straddling his thighs. just as he was about to ask what you were doing, you grabbed the hem of your tank top and peeled it off over your head, discarding it onto the floor, your pants fast to follow. 

“fuck. you’re so beautiful.” he groaned deeply, ravenous gaze raking over your nearly naked form. you smirked at him cockily. 

“i know.” 

a surprised laugh erupted from his lips at your blunt reply, eyes glinting with something akin to admiration. “as you should.” 

smiling to yourself, you swiftly climbed back on top of him, not wasting any time before grabbing hold of his throbbing dick. he let out a breath of appreciation at the contact, biting at the inside of his cheek. every muscle in his body tightened as you teasingly traced his tip over your clothed heat, his precum slickening the thin fabric. 

“are you wet?” he asked weakly, voice so airy and strained that you almost missed it. 

grinning devilishly, you toyed with the elastic. “do you wanna find out?” 

“yes,” he all but hissed out, muscular arms straining against their secure restraints, “fuck— yes, please.” 

“mmm, you sound so hot when you're desperate to get fucked.” you groaned softly, nudging your underwear to the side in order to slip his head through your hot arousal. he shuddered at the sensation, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched you tease not only him but yourself as well with fleeting caresses of his needy length against your burning core. 

“(y/n).” his deep voice had become little more than a breathless whimper singed with molten desire. you felt your pulse jump at the very sound of it, your own want for him swelling with every passing second. 

Chanyeol let out a broken gasp as you sunk down on him, cursing weakly as you took him in inch by inch. a low hum vibrated on your lips at the blissful stretch, hot tendrils of pleasure igniting throughout your body. 

“sometimes i forget just how good you feel inside of me.” you breathed out heavily, peering down at his already fucked out expression with a coy smirk. 

“i could never forget.” he moaned, roughly biting his lower lip. a slow, deep grind of your hips had his head of unruly silver locks tossed back into the plush pillows, an unsteady groan of your name filling the hot, heavy air surrounding you. 

“fuck, go faster.” 

he realized his mistake only when your fingers were pressing into the length of his throat, all motion ceased. “is that how you ask for things?” you asked, voice dangerously calm. 

he was quick to shake his head, eager to right his wrong. “please. please go faster.” 

“that’s better.” 

a rough sob is pulled from his flushed throat (which you’re almost certain will be raw tomorrow morning) as you fuck yourself down onto him. the pace was fast, hungry, rough. his back bowing off the mattress, hips pulsing upward, desperate to meet each thrust half way. 

“(y/n),” you almost moaned at the sight of his body rolling beneath yours, muscles flexed and trembling, toned arms straining against the tight hold of his belt, the leather biting pretty red marks into his wrists, “i wanna touch you— please let me touch you. let me feel you, baby. you know i can make you feel good.”

his begging caused a playful grin to draw itself across your face. “should i?” you murmured thoughtfully, rolling your hips in slow, controlled circles. a low, throaty moan vibrated in your chest as he thrust himself up inside of you, just barely brushing over that perfect little spot. 

“i can be so good for you. please… let me be good for you, (y/n).” 

“well when you say it like that…” you sighed, feeling any remaining resolve come crumbling down. 

excitement ignited in his dark eyes, and he watched with bated breath as you reached up, getting to work on freeing him from the binds. 

the very moment the belt fell slack, releasing his hands, they were on your skin, eager and impatient, tugging you down into a heated kiss. it was messy and rough, all biting teeth and lashing tongues. not that you minded much, it was always fun reminding him who was in charge, one way or another. 

his wandering hands eagerly explored the expanse of your body, squeezing, pressing, pulling. and you let him have his fun, let him push the limits, testing your boundaries with every curious prod and trembling caress. 

it was only when you felt his fingers pressing into the swells of your ass and begin guiding your movements that you drew the line. it took all of a few seconds for you to have his wrists pinned down on either side of his head. 

you pulled away from his lips was a disappointed sigh, tongue clicking. “still no restraint, i see? i’m disappointed. i thought you said you’d be good for me, yeolie? was that good?” he all but whimpered, his head, too muddled from pleasure to form coherent words, shaking remorsefully. “no… that was very bad. bad boy, yeolie.” 

his dick throbbed so hard inside of you that you could’ve sworn he’d almost just come. 

a scoff of both amazement and disbelief escaped your lips. “you like being called a bad boy?” 

how ironic. 

color flushed into his cheeks, embarrassment shining in his big, glassy eyes that were now refusing to meet your gaze. 

“look at me.” 

he gasped as you purposely clenched around him, thrusting your hips back until he was balls deep, successfully forcing his attention onto your face. you grabbed his chin securely between your thumb and forefinger, and lowered your head to the point where your lips were just barely brushing over his. his pupils were blown and trembling as they met yours. 

“you wanna be my bad boy, baby?” 

his jaw fell open, a thunderous moan breaking from his chest. 

“yes.” 

“say it.” you all but growled, tone leaving no room for argument. 

at this point, he was too lost in his own desire to feel any real shame. 

“i wanna be your bad boy.” 

a triumphant smirk curled onto your face, and you rewarded him with a gentle kiss to his quivering lips. “you gonna come for me, bad boy?” he was already bobbing his head frantically before you’d even fully gotten the question out. you chuckled sadistically at his unabashed desperation. “should i let you?” 

“(y/n), please— i don’t think i can— fuck.” he panted out, voice shuddering and breaking as you fucked yourself down on him at just the right pace to keep him teetering dangerously on the edge without completely throwing him over. you bit your lip, pleasure exploding like firecrackers in your veins as he thrusted into you. fuck, if he didn’t stop hitting that spot… 

his hands curled into tight fists where they were pinned to the mattress, dull nails biting smooth crescents into his palm. noticing this, you took it upon yourself to weave your fingers through his, holding his hands in an unexpectedly tender display. only because you didn’t want him to accidentally hurt himself… that was all. 

but, perhaps it was a mistake. 

because that look returned to his eyes with vengeance, his features melting into bursting admiration and unspoken emotion. this time, you ignored it, too gone in your own pleasure to spare it a second thought. that’s what you convinced yourself of, anyways. 

he was pulsing intensely against your slick walls, twitching cock threatening to erupt at any given second. you could tell he was fighting to hold himself back, the veins in his throat growing prominent from the strenuous effort. it was admirable in a way, how desperately he wanted to please you, even if it meant denying himself of the greatest pleasure of all. you’d encountered very few men with that kind of will power. so you couldn’t help but to respect it when you saw it in Chanyeol. 

“you look like you’re about to explode.” you taunted breathlessly, lips pulled into a lust hazed smirk. “it’d be cruel of me to tell you to hold it, wouldn’t it?” 

he whimpered helplessly, obviously not sure which answer would satisfy you and which would coax you into further torturing his already wrecked body. 

you offered a rasping chuckled. “you’re lucky that i’m feeling rather generous today.” 

something between a sob and a moan are thrown past his lips as you slam yourself down on him, purposefully squeezing your walls around him. he cries out your name desperately, imploringly. you know he can’t hold back anymore, no matter how hard he tries. his body was going to come whether he liked it or not. you felt in the way he throbbed and twitched inside of you, heard it in the way he groaned and sighed, saw it in the way his eyes rolled, body shuddering uncontrollably. 

“come.” 

and he fucking did. 

his body stalled, back arching off the bad, hips sputtering up in sharp, quick thrusts, the sound of skin on skin contact resonating through the room. you cooed, relishing in the way he quivered and keener beneath you, mouth gaping silently for a few moments before growling moans finally broke through, rumbling so deep in his chest you could have easily mistaken it for thunder. 

you let him fill you up, painting your walls with his release, knowing damn well your intentions once he was finished. 

“that’s it, baby…” you cooed, releasing one of his clenched fists to caress his feverish face, tracing the lower line of his plump lip, swollen and red from his relentless biting. 

“oh! look at that. you made a mess, sweetheart.” you purred, smirking wickedly as you watched his arousal drip out of you and onto his now half hard cock. he moaned at the sight, cursing under his breath. “I think it’s only right if you clean it up.” 

his eyes snapped up to meet yours, excitement immediately burning with his hazy, blown pupils. that was your boy… always eager to clean up after himself. especially if it meant he could put his tongue and lips to proper use. 

“fuck. ride my face. wanna taste you. wanna make you come.” he groaned breathlessly, freed hands reaching down to grip at your thighs, tugging at them impatiently. 

you chuckled at how eager he was, happily obliging. you climbed up, repositioning yourself to hover over his flushed face, caging his head between your thighs. his fingers pressed into your hips, pulling you down and into reach of his greedy tongue. you couldn’t help the sigh that slid from your lips at the first contact, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his tongue dragging hungrily through your come soaked folds. 

“that’s right. eat your come, baby. lick it up.” you breathed out heavily, fingers weaving through his damp silver locks. 

he moaned against you, the vibrations sending chills rolling down your spine. it was like white hot electricity in your veins when he rolled his flattened tongue cover your clit, a sharp moan erupting from your throat. 

“fuck, just like that. right there.” you panted, hips grinding down against his skilled tongue. “you’re so fucking good with your mouth, yeol.” his determination spiked at the praise, lips encircling your clit and sucking purposefully. 

pure euphoria rushed through your veins, head falling back as your grip on his hair tightened. his rapacious hands danced across your body, fingers pressing hotly into your skin, obviously not having learned his lesson the first time around. though, you weren’t too keen on correcting him. especially not with the fire his touch was igniting across your body. 

your hips stuttered as his tongue pressed inside of you, lapping at you hungrily. “tastes… so good…” he groaned brokenly against your arousal, hooded eyes devouring the sight of you falling apart above him. 

if there was one thing Park Chanyeol loved– it was being the cause of your pleasure. 

snagging your lip roughly between your teeth, you meet his searing gaze, your walls clenching around his invading tongue at the almost unbearable intensity of it. 

“you like it?” you moaned, feeling yourself begin to climb your way towards release. he nuzzled against you, nose pressing against your clit as his tongue teased your entrance. 

god… if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was trying to suffocate himself. knowing Chanyeol, he’d probably consider it the perfect way to go. perhaps you would have laughed at the thought had it not been for the molten pleasure numbing your mind and senses.

“i’m gonna come.” 

at your breathless declaration, Chanyeol is quickly replacing his tongue with two of his fingers, fucking them up into you steadily while his mouth gets to work on your clit. it feels so good… you’re numb to pretty much everything else but the feeling of him, the sight of him. 

and you find it’s just that that finally sends you tumbling over that ledge: the sight of those beautiful brown eyes, dark and eager, burning with unspoken emotion, pooling with crimson seduction. he’s breathtaking. 

you shift off of his face carefully, a hazy, satisfied smirk settling across your face. 

“what a filthy boy.” you purr softly, more so to yourself than him, delighting in the sight of his face, glistening from a mixture of both his and your own release. his lips curl upwards at the corners, sinful tongue peeking out to drag over them and savor the lingering taste of you, a low hum of appreciation rumbling deep in his chest.  

his hands don’t leave your hips as you carefully lift yourself off of him, offering some much needed support for your still shaky legs. you flop down on the mattress beside him with a soft ‘oof’ and shut your eyes, taking a moment to catch your breath and gather your scattered wits. a few moments of silence pass, before your brow twitched in irritation. 

“stop staring before i smack you.” even with your eyes closed, you can feel the heat of his gaze on the side of your face. 

he chuckled unabashedly, not all too torn up about being caught. “sorry. i can’t help myself,” he paused, “you’re just so beautiful like this.” 

sighing, you roll your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “what’d i say about calling me beautiful?”  

he pouts, looking like a scolded puppy. “not to say it after sex.” 

“that’s right.”

“but it’s the truth!” 

“Chanyeol.” you groan, throwing an arm over your face. 

he huffs in annoyance rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his palm. “what’s so wrong with me saying that you're beautiful?” 

“you know exactly what’s wrong with it.” you grumble, shooting him a pointed glare, one he is quick to return. rolling your eyes, you turn away from him. “i’m too fucked out to try and argue with you right now so can you just drop it?”  

one of his arms snakes over your waist, and you inhaled sharply in surprise as he tugged you into his chest. 

“Chanyeol—”

he was quick to disregard your warning tone, nuzzling his face into your neck. “i like to cuddle.” 

“you know—” you began, scowling as he cut you off a second time. 

“i know what we agreed to but come on… a few minutes won’t kill you.” he grumbled, low voice raspy with exhaustion. 

the slight tightening of his hold around you told you that he had no intention of letting go any time soon. your features twisted into a scowl, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. 

but your resolve to remain unphased wavered. 

because, for a moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of his body against yours, allowing yourself to melt into it. it was a strange sensation, the comfort it brought you… the security. perhaps it was the aftermath of your orgasm. or maybe the exhaustion from a stressful week. or maybe something else entirely… regardless, you found yourself relaxing into him, into his hold, into his warmth. it wasn’t something you could really control. and even if you could, you weren’t sure if you would do anything different. 

minutes passed. maybe two. maybe five. maybe twenty. you weren’t really sure. you could hear the muffled music still pumping through the speakers somewhere downstairs. dull footsteps and low voices passing outside the door every now and again. the soft glow from the still candle flickered soothingly over the pale walls. 

a strange sense of calm had settled over you at some point. you weren’t sure quite when. all you knew was that if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear the steady beating of Chanyeol’s heart. his breathing had become slow and heavy, warming the side of your face with every exhale. 

“are you…” you swallowed, throat unexpectedly dry, “are you asleep?” 

you were met with silence. 

sucking your lips into your mouth, you slowly turned your head. your heart faltered in your chest. “geez.” you muttered softly, a faint smile touching your lips. 

he was knocked out cold, cheek smooshed up against the pillow, lips parted and puckered out, hair cast across the white pillowcase, a few locks stuck on his eyelashes. you lifted your hand carefully, gently brushing the silver strands out of his face. your fingers lingered on his skin, caressing ever so lightly over his cheek and jaw. 

“beautiful.” 

it took you a moment to realize that that word had just come from your lips. you jerked away like you’d been stung, eyes wide, and heart suddenly racing. 

shit. 

you were so fucked.

[kalee60]

I wish you would write a fic where stucky are mad at each other for some reason but get forced into the same tiny escape pod and spend a very interesting hour pressed so tight together on their way back to the surface...

Not going to lie Bec - when I first saw this prompt, my mind immediately went one way, and one way only - and I'm pretty sure you just played me like a fiddle with this idea of yours and knew exactly what I'd write.

So please take this humble offering, you are literally my greatest support and I would not be here without you gorgeous ❤️ my adoration for you is endless for our unique and special bond x

The fic is just over 4k and also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - Truth or Dare and rated M for mild sexual content 😉

If you'd like a fic - here's the post - I wish you'd write a fic... (It might take me a little bit to write - but I will get there!)

"Are you freaking kidding me right now Rogers?" Bucky shouted as he tried to wrest control of the tiny submarine, or whatever the fucking contraption Stark had purpose built for underwater expeditions, from his meathead best friend who never had a plan. "What the hell was that?"

Steve glared over at Bucky, who scowled back. "I had it under control."

"Under control, my ass. You ran us into a goddamn rock, a rock so sharp we now have a leak - and guess what? We just happen to be about three miles under the sea!"

"I - " Steve started to say then stopped abruptly to slam at the controls before him in the dim lighting, trying to unwedge the small vessel off the rock.

"Don't! Fuck Steve, leave it, don't get us off the rock - we'll tear apart if you do." The sharp edge of panic amidst his anger was clear.

"I know what I'm doing, Buck." Steve ground out.

The panic immediately disappeared leaving only ire behind, "I highly doubt that by looking at the trouble you got us into. I thought partnering up with Sam was a pain in the ass for those few months, but I'd somehow forgotten what you were like."

Bucky heard Steve grinding his teeth, and satisfaction filled him that Steve was at least angry at their hopeless situation, one he was solely to blame for.

They’d been tasked to go to the Raft - one of the inmates had managed to escape - Namor, and although Bucky thought it was way out of their scope of skills to be chasing a literal being that came from the ocean, who had super strength and a huge advantage by, well, being able to breathe underwater, the Avengers assembled and it was left to Cap, no, Nomad and Bucky to sort it out.

At first, the mission was fine and on track, they were given the craft from Stark, Steve assuring both Bucky and the cocky self-appointed head Avenger, that he'd used it many times over on missions, and away they went. Bucky had realised after an hour at sea as they dove deeper and deeper, Bucky wide-eyed at all the sealife and fish that swam into the lights from the craft, that Steve looked a little peaky, a little sweaty. Apparently, after some hard prodding, Steve admitted he'd only taken it out for a few runs in the East River and had never been in the ocean with it.

Bucky was fuming.

He became even angrier when they found Namor, and Steve without any hesitation hit a button that harpooned a weapon from the undercarriage, missing the man completely and hitching it on a nearby rock, careening them towards it. Bucky was certain he saw a smirk and a laugh from their quarry as he swam off - uncaptured. Free.

It was, in fact - quite humiliating for two usually competent supersoldiers.

So now they were fixed tightly onto a jutting rock bed, water leaking slowly into the vessel and Steve was acting like a massive stubborn child about their situation. Especially when they realised they couldn’t call for assistance - they were too deep for a signal.

As a starfish floated by and suckered itself to the window, making a home there, Bucky was starting to wonder if they'd get out of the situation in one piece. They may have the serum running through their veins, but he was certain drowning was still on the scope of things that could kill them. He glanced at Steve who was still pressing buttons - that and along with an irate best friend who had a penchant for knives.

The urge to strangle Steve and his handsomely stubborn face rose with each and every breath, and he couldn't fathom why he was in love with such an imbecile. Bucky, glad that Steve wasn’t aware of where his feelings lay, not wanting to openly tell such an idiot he loved him; though Bucky hadn’t really had an opportunity to approach Steve about it, unsure if he ever would find the courage to bring it up.

Plus right then... right in that moment as they floated and bobbed in the undercurrent while beady eyed fish approached them curiously, Bucky was livid and was certain that even if Steve turned to him to profess his undying love - Bucky would punch him in the face.

“What do you propose we do then smarty pants?”

Bucky’s mouth formed a tight line at the old taunt.

“I suggest we get into the escape pod and head for the surface.”

“What? And give up?”

“Give up Steve? Of course we give up. What the fuck do you think we can do?” Bucky exclaimed, as Steve grumbled into the small space. “For a brilliant strategist you sure are an absolute ninny sometimes.”

“A ninny?” Steve burst out in horrified disbelief.

Bucky felt his lip twitch and almost laughed at Steve’s expression and the absurdity of their situation that by calling Steve a ninny, is what pissed him off the most.

“The only way we can do anything of any use now, is if Namor comes back and surrenders. And I don’t think he’s about to do that, considering he sped off laughing when you marooned us on this damn rock. One I might add that has more strength and the ability to stay calm and think more rationally than you.”

“Are you seriously comparing me to a rock?”

“If the Cap fits.”

“Really?” Steve deadpanned at Bucky’s admittedly terrible attempt at humour.

And before Bucky could say anything further, potentially offer a simple truce, a large shadow loomed above them and Bucky was instantly caught in the beauty and grace of the huge marine animal swimming overhead, close enough Bucky could reach out and touch if there wasn’t glass between them. It looked to be a shark of some type and Bucky was captivated by the smooth skin, the sheer mass and the tail that flicked; until that same large tail hit the vessel on one of it’s sweeps, dislodging it from the rock.

With a triumphant yell, Steve pushed on the accelerator as Bucky yelled at him to stop, and suddenly the whole craft shook and groaned, creaking as the very structure started to unhinge.

“Jesus fuck, Steve. Get in the escape pod now!”

Steve for the first time since they entered the vessel listened to Bucky, and they both jumped up and scrambled for the pods that were situated behind their seats, opening the escape hatches - only to find one empty, and the other thankfully still in place.

“Shit, Tony.” Bucky swore. “Don’t you know about the Titanic? Always have enough damn life rafts. Fuck.”

“We can fit.” Steve said matter of fact and opened the hatch door, just as the thick glass from the front of the craft splintered, water spurting through and a loud cracking filled the space. Bucky’s heart thumped hard and fast at the danger they were in, his Soldier training all but useless in the face of this new terror.

Bucky pushed Steve, who yelped at being manhandled into the small space, and Bucky jumped right in, landing on top of Steve, their faces only inches apart - and that face did not look happy.

They had just enough room for Steve to hit the big red button that closed the pod, and an automated voice immediately filled the area.

“Releasing in three, two - one.” 

The voice went silent as the capsule whooshed out of the craft, and Bucky was on the correct side to see through the glass over Steve’s shoulder, the lights of the vessel flickering as it tore apart from the pressure of the water. Bucky let out a shaky breath that they’d escaped in time.

“Calculating your trajectory and location,” the voice began, then went silent for a few seconds, “you will breach the surface in just under two hours.”

“Two hours.” Bucky griped and wiggled, Steve hissing for him to ‘quit it’. The voice continued on in its modulated voice.

“Due to your depth, the emergency pod has been slowed to ensure you rise at the correct rate so you do not suffer any complications.”

“Complications,” Bucky said under his breath, knowing with the serum it was unlikely they’d get sick. “I’ve got a big bearded one right in front of me. I think that’s complicated enough - just get us to the surface quickly.”

The voice droned on about protocols and safety features for a few minutes and mentioned when it came into range it would send a distress call to FRIDAY for assistance. Finally some good news, because all Bucky could think about was the fact the enormous shark was not in sight. He hoped it was long gone.

“Can you move your damn leg?" Steve hissed, shaking Bucky from his contemplation of why he insisted on watching Jaws a few weeks earlier.

But it was the tone Steve used that irked Bucky further, and ever helpful, he moved his leg back and forth like a petulant kid. “That enough movement for you?”

“Buck, your damn knife is digging into my thigh. Actually why in the hell are you wearing it on an underwater mission in the first place?”

“Why did you bring your shield?” Bucky countered, not wanting to tell Steve about the other seven knives in his pants.

“That’s not really comparable.”

“It is.” Bucky replied sullenly, knowing it wasn’t at all. 

Steve sighed heavily, and they spent a good fifteen minutes without conversing, not even daring to look at the other in the soft green-tinged light from the control panel where Bucky could read their glacially paced progress as they headed for the surface. They were still so far down.

“Truth or dare? Steve suddenly asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Are you for real? Now?” Bucky asked incredulously. “Look, I know that game worked when we were kids - but read the damn room, well, pod.”

Steve didn’t respond as the charged air between them rose in silent intensity.

“Truth.” Bucky finally bit out after a long minute.

“Why did you bring knives on an underwater mission?”

“Jesus Christ, you don’t let up, do you? Why am I even surprised, it’s Steven Grant Rogers asking. Because Steve, I take them everywhere. You know this. I might have had to stab some seaweed for being rude to your delicate sensibilities or something. And don't you dare try and say they haven’t gotten us out of tough spots before.”

Steve harrumphed, “I’m hardly delicate.”

“Sure thing.”

They fell silent again, until Bucky gave in and sighed heavily. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you lie and say you knew how to drive the boat?”

“Bucky, you don’t drive a boat.”

“Yeah, well you proved that without a doubt.”

Steve tensed up, Bucky experiencing Steve’s muscles bunching together against his body from being so close, he swallowed heavily. 

“I thought I had it handled. How difficult could it be?”

“Steve…” Bucky started, stopped then sighed, “Steve, you need to actually be truthful with me, to the Avengers, especially if you need help. You don’t have to prove that you have it together all the time, every time. That’s what I’m for.”

“So you’re saying you could have piloted the boat?”

“Is piloted correct? But in answer - no, I couldn’t have. So we would have found a better way.” 

“Buck, he’s an underwater being, what else were we going to do but try and follow him down here?”

Bucky remained quiet thinking over the options. When the call went out, only Steve and he were available for the mission, so in a way Steve was correct, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

Steve moved suddenly in an unintentional grind, and a spark flew down Bucky’s spine, shit, they were close, really close, and through his initial fear and anger, Bucky hadn’t really thought about the situation he’d inadvertently put himself in. Pressed up against Steve’s body in a way he’d never been before.

Oh shit…

“Truth or dare,” Steve asked, breaking Bucky’s thoughts on the bulge he could feel just slightly higher than his own.

“Truth,” Bucky gritted out, looking over Steve’s shoulder at the murky water surrounding them. “It’s not like we can do any dares down here.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking directly at Bucky, and Bucky finally gave in and glanced his way, holding Steve’s gaze, and knew immediately that he shouldn't have. Steve’s eyes had taken on a greenish-blue tinge, making them pop and they softened at the edges once Bucky was in their snare. Bucky let out a long exhale. He hated when they fought - but he was still annoyed that Steve hadn't listened or been truthful.

“Are you dating anyone?”

Bucky jerked in surprise, wincing straight away, as rubbing up against Steve wasn’t going to help him remain impassive. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one I would have thought,” Steve replied curtly, and Bucky saw the slight tick in Steve’s cheek, and he caught his breath. For some reason Steve was invested in his answer, but why? Could it mean..?

“We live together Steve. You know I’m not.”

“Not even Darcy,” Steve countered.

Unable to stop it from bubbling up, Bucky started to laugh loud and heartily before realising that the motion was doing nothing to stop the friction between them, and Bucky started to worry that the knives on his person weren't the only hard thing Steve could feel pressed up against him.

When he’d composed himself, he saw that Steve had tilted his chin up proudly, and Bucky knew he’d hurt his feelings.

“Uh, that’s a negative. Darcy and I are not dating, she’s like Becca. You know - a little sister, an annoying one too, and yeah I love her, but not in the way you think. To be honest I’d like to date…”

Bucky trailed off, realising he was about to give too much away.

“You’d like to date?” Steve coaxed, eyes riveted on Bucky as he looked slightly down at him, and Bucky wasn't sure he'd ever really get used to the change in Steve's physique. Having to look up to his once small friend, shoulders wide enough he was a literal tank.

“Tall, blonde people,” he admitted, face immediately heating; not meaning to let that particular parcel of words out.

“Oh.” Steve replied, face slack and wondering as he stared at him, the gravity in his eyes not letting Bucky look elsewhere. So Bucky shut his eyes to escape, berating himself for being an obvious fool.

“Dare,” Steve husked.

Bucky snapped his eyes open to find Steve unblinking, attention directly on him, and there was something lurking behind his gaze, something dark and delicious, Bucky uncertain if what he saw was real or not. So he thought about his response carefully before answering.

“Okay, Stevie,” and Steve inhaled sharply through his nose at the nickname, Bucky pleased at the response. “I bet you can’t get your hands to the control panel to turn on the exterior floodlight so we can see the fishes.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “You want to see the fishes?”

Bucky nodded slowly, having a gut feel Steve already saw through his game, considering where Steve’s hands were positioned in the first place. Between their bodies.

Steve wriggled his fingers, and a live wire burned through the very structure of Bucky’s cells, remaking them into something different, something primal as Steve continued to move and pushed his hand between them towards the panel, inadvertently pressing hard up against the front of Bucky’s pants, right over his dick in the process. A dick that was suddenly much more interested in their predicament. 

Bucky might have made an error in judgement as he slipped out a strangled gasp.

Steve’s face lit up in a grin at Bucky’s unintentional response, deliberately mimicking the same movement again.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the touch through his tac pants, wishing for no obstructions between them, and before he could lose himself completely in the sensations, Steve's hand pulled free to touch the control panel, light suddenly flooding outwards. Tufts of seaweed and darting fish fled past the glass as they continued to slowly climb for the surface. 

And before he knew what he was saying, Bucky was pressing his hips the scant inch forward into Steve's body and whispered, "I dare you to do that again."

The ragged and shaky exhale from Steve was gratifying in its sheer emotion, and the 'Buck' that tore from his throat made Bucky look up. The moment his eyes met Steve's he was gone.

"Can I?" Steve asked, and Bucky could do no more than nod as Steve's lips came crashing down on his.

It was the kiss Bucky had been waiting a lifetime for, and he couldn't believe as Steve's tongue slipped in between his lips, a low deep growl erupting unbidden in his throat, that the catalyst was a failed mission where they were stuck together angry in a cylindrical tube in the middle of the ocean.

Steve's hand forced itself back between their bodies, and Bucky moaned as Steve made the best of the small space, rubbing over and over until Bucky grew thick and hard in his pants, all while Steve kissed the very breath from his body. Bucky was stunned that Steve was an exceptional kisser, partly impressed and partly jealous at the realisation that he'd had experience, more than Bucky first thought.

"Jesus Buck, you taste so good."

"Yeah?" Bucky husked back, leaning up as far as he was able, capturing Steve's lips again. What started as chaste, soon became hungry and insistent and Bucky tried to move his hands, but there was no room for two sets between them, Steve’s all that could fit; so Bucky let Steve take control, do what he wanted. And somehow, without even speaking about it, Steve gave Bucky exactly what he needed, what he craved. And if Steve wanted, Bucky would spend his lifetime taking care of Steve in return.

"Your fucking knife," Steve husked into his cheek as he pulled away, lips wet and thoroughly kissed. It was a spaced out look Bucky wanted to see more often.

"That's not a knife," Bucky sassed back.

"Well unless you're extraordinary and have two dicks, then yes, I think the one pressing just above my knee is a knife."

Bucky tried to adjust his stance to lessen the pressure from the weapon, and at Steve's wince, he knew he'd not managed to do it.

"Well to be fair, I wasn't expecting to end up in this predicament."

"Predicament?" Steve asked as his fingers pressed against Bucky's groin again, pushing and sliding to create extra friction.

"Oh shit," Bucky breathed, hating and loving the knowing smirk on Steve's face. "Maybe I've been wanting this for over a hundred years and you know, since nothing has ever happened before, how was I to know that being trapped in an escape pod, while seething in anger would do it for you?"

Steve looked blankly at Bucky, mouth open, shock clearly written over his face. "Over a hundred years?"

Bucky realised he had no filter when Steve had a hand on his dick, and flushed at the long kept secret, now a confession, but kept going, confirming it. He was all in by that stage.

"Give or take a year."

"Buck, why the hell didn't you say anything? I've been waiting since…"

Steve trailed off and Bucky couldn't help it.

"Since..?"

"I was sixteen."

"Fuck," Bucky surged forward, kissing the breath from Steve, and Steve's hand movements became more insistant. Suddenly Bucky felt the zip of his pants loosen and he couldn’t stop the wanton moan from escaping and he wriggled his hips in anticipation. Between one breath and the next Steve had somehow, miraculously snaked his hand into Bucky's pants, and now, now, there was only a layer of thin underwear between them.

Why the hell hadn't he gone commando?

"God, Buck, you feel amazing - knew you would.” Steve said as he looked into Bucky’s eyes while stroking him, and the sheer power behind his gaze pushed all of Bucky’s buttons. “Want to get my mouth on you."

Bucky gasped, vibrating at the imagery and Steve chuckled, nipping at Bucky's lips, kissing him again and again and it hit Bucky that Steve was able to feel every single quiver and sharp intake of breath he made. He was no longer able to hide his reactions, even if his face gave nothing away - Steve was so close that all of Bucky's tells were like a neon sign emblazoned above his head. Steve had him at his mercy.

And Bucky loved it.

"I want that," Bucky whispered back, "want your mouth everywhere. Want my mouth all over you too pal, I can't wait to get you naked."

"You're too much," Steve ground out and suddenly Bucky was being kissed deeply, thoroughly and he lost all concept of time and space. Steve's fingers gripped his dick, squeezing and making short jerky motions, it wasn't the greatest angle, and Steve didn't have full motion - but it was perfect. Bucky was so turned on, his dick weeping into his underwear, and he knew that if Steve kept going, kept kissing him, touching him, he was going to come in his pants like he'd done too many times when they’d slept next to each other before the war.

"Oh fuck Steve, keep doing that."

"You like that?" Steve husked, complying when Bucky nodded his head limply, rubbing in tight circles, fingers tangling in Bucky's underwear as he tried his best to get Bucky off. And Bucky, well he wasn't easy, it usually took him a while to get in the right headspace to feel comfortable enough to let go, to let himself be free in the moment, but with Steve he knew he could be. He trusted Steve, wanted him by his side always, and he knew he'd catch Bucky, protect him as he fell. Steve would never let go again.

"Gonna make you come on my dick," Steve rasped into Bucky's mouth, making Bucky forget everything sweet and hopeful in their future to concentrate on how filthy Steve’s lust driven words were, "going to fill you up, and I'm never letting you out of my bed again Buck. You're mine - you hear that?"

"I… yes… yours," Bucky said as his knees buckled, and Steve had him, gripped him tight, pinching his dick in a way that made Bucky white out and he came apart. Bucky spurted into his pants, underwear soaking up his release and he jerked and whimpered as Steve held him through it, mouth hovering over his, whispering words of want and desire. 

"You're gorgeous Buck, the prettiest fella I ever saw."

"Jesus Steve," Bucky breathed as he came down from his orgasm, legs still twitching. "You're going all Brooklyn and sappy on me."

Steve kissed the corner of Bucky's mouth delicately, as if he hadn't just got him off in the tightests of spots, and removed his hand from Bucky's pants. "Always felt sappy with you Punk."

Bucky grinned back, sated, happy and languid - until he felt it.

"Have you got a fucking bludgeon in your pocket?" he exclaimed when Steve shifted, and awed, Bucky realised exactly what Steve was packing in his plain navy shorts that were often tangled with his black briefs in the dryer at home. Steve's cheeks tinged pink and Bucky was gone, so gone on this man who was sweet and commanding all at once.

"Oh shit Steve, am I going to have fun with you."

"Yeah?" Steve grinned back, suddenly a little shy, a little hopeful and Bucky smiled.

"For the rest of our lives if you want."

Steve sucked in a breath, "I'd like that."

"The surface is less than twenty metres away, a rescue shuttle has been dispatched and will meet you on the surface."

The automated voice fell away, and Bucky and Steve looked over each other's shoulders at the lightened water, having completely ignored the sea of fish and marine animals around them. It was stunning, there was so much life just under the surface.

And before he knew it, they were blinded by sunlight as the pod popped up on the surface, Bucky finding Steve on top of him, all of his weight pressing him down as the cylinder floated in the ocean on its side. The sheer bulk of Steve was phenomenal, a portent of things to come.

"Far out, you're heavy." Bucky commented with a grin.

"Sorry, the serum… well you know."

"No, I like it." He said as Steve kissed him again, leaning down to take Bucky's mouth under his in a passionate but short taste. "But you're still an ass for getting us into that position in the first place."

"How did you know I didn't plan it this way?"

Bucky laughed just as the lid opened and he squinted into the bright light, the quinjet hovering over them, finding himself staring directly up into Clint's grinning face.

"Looking cozy there boys, need a hand?"

"I think we have that handled," Steve replied with a smirk, staring at Bucky, and Bucky could only gaze up into the brightest blue he'd ever seen, the eyes of his best friend, his soon to be lover and hopefully so much more.

It took some maneuvering to get Steve off him without toppling them into the ocean, but soon they were inside waiting as Bruce and Clint secured the pod to take back to Tony's lab.

Bucky made his way to the front of the jet as Steve called in their failure to Fury, and greeted Natasha who was in the pilots seat, stretching his arms up and over his head, popping his muscles from having been cramped up too long. 

She looked him dead in the eye in the unnerving way only Nat could, and remarked, "your fly's undone."

Red faced, Bucky looked over at Steve who'd heard Nat and was silently laughing, telling Fury that 'no, he didn't think losing Namor was amusing', before hanging up and motioning Bucky over.

"You really are a jerk." Bucky hissed as he pulled up his fly, finally realising how wet and uncomfortable he was. He needed a shower. Preferably with company.

"But I'm your jerk though."

"Gee, aren’t I the luckiest guy in Brooklyn," Bucky snarked back at Steve's playful wink, and for the entire trip home, neither of them could keep the grins off their faces.

A day later - Natasha brought Namor in.

[taelonsamada]

Fragment Friday - Silvered Scars

@romirola reminded me that today was Friday! lol I swear sometimes the days bleed into each other… Tagging @dominimoonbeam @ejunkiet and @glassbearclock cause I’m always eager for even a single sentence into whatever you guys are currently working on ❤️ (no pressure, obviously!!)

This will probably be the last time I post a bit from Silvered Scars, as it’s PRETTY MUCH done, but I figured after all the other bits I shared, it was time to share a bit of the romantic part, since this IS an urban fantasy ROMANCE novel X3 LOL enjoy~

~~~

“…Bait… is about all I can think of to draw him out.” Rowan eventually spoke, and that one word was like a punch in the gut for Argent.

“You are not using yourself to pull him out into the open.” She practically growled, the wolf looking at her in surprise at the harsh tone of her voice.

“You were the one who pointed out in the first place that using us as bait was a good way to draw him out.” She pointed out, and Argent grit her teeth with a poor imitation of the shifter’s growl at having her own idea used against her. “You got a better idea on finding him?”

“No, but that’s not the point!” Argent hissed, growing more agitated. To her frustration, Rowan smiled, reaching for where her clenched fist was pressed into the futon, though she stopped and placed her hand next to it instead, the edge of her fingers just barely touching Argent’s.

“You know, you’re cute when you’re angry.” She mused.

“Oh, then you’re about to find me fucking adorable.” The healer snarked, though she shifted her hand to curl her fingers around Rowan’s in a loose hold. A quiet laugh came from the shifter, and she lifted her hand that Argent was holding in order to press a brief kiss against her fingers.

“Well, when you come up with a better plan, you be sure to let me know.” She mumbled against her knuckles. Argent huffed, though she felt her breath catch in her throat at a kiss that Rowan placed between her knuckles, those grey eyes still trained on her.

The wolf lifted an eyebrow, apparently noticing the response she gave. Those lips curved where they were still pressed against her hand, and closed a bit more firmly around the soft skin of her knuckles, nibbling and applying the lightest bit of suction.

Argent’s free hand clenched into the cushion of the futon until her fingers ached, unable to take her eyes off of Rowan’s mouth.

She watched her turn her hand over, pressing a kiss against her palm now. Then the heel of her palm. Her inner wrist. It was the feeling of teeth nipping lightly at her wrist that earned a gentle gasp from the healer.

At the sound of her gasp, Rowan pulled gently on her arm the same time she leaned towards Argent, the two of them meeting in the middle. Or at least they would have, if Rowan hadn’t caught hold of her cheek and halted their movement when her mouth was a breath away from the healer’s.

She studied Argent’s face, her thumb stroking repeatedly over her cheek. “…can I kiss you?” She asked. The question floored Argent. The wolf had literally ridden her leg to an orgasm so hard she nearly lost consciousness, and yet she was still asking before kissing her…?

Lifting her hand, she curled her fingers around the wrist of the hand on her cheek, nodding with a smile. The low heat that had been simmering in her veins flaring into a blaze at the look in Rowan’s eyes at her answer.

Her free hand slid up the length of her arm and along the side of her neck, coming to join the first one and rest on either side of her face. Holding her gently as she just barely brushed their lips together. What little self control Argent had when it came to this woman was waning, and she leaned forward as her own lips parted, the kiss deepening.

Both of them turned towards each other at the same time, Argent’s arms curling around Rowan’s neck in order to pull her even closer. The fear that had taken root in her gut when the wolf suggested they use her as bait had her holding onto the other woman with a new kind of desperation. As if she could keep her here, keep her safe, as long as she kept a firm enough grasp.

[dreamdropxoxo]

First Snow

Laurent sent Damen the picture he had just taken and added one question mark. Then he sipped his tea and started to type on his document. The seating area looked very christmasy and he had almost grinned when he saw it. It somehow fit.

His phone pinged and he threw it a glance.

‘Is this where I think it is?’

‘Maybe.’

Laurent put his phone on the low table before him and continued to work, it was not five minutes later that a shadow fell over him. 

“Mr. deVere, what a pleasant surprise.” Damen grinned brightly down at him where he sat in the lounge area of Damen’s company. His dimple was so adorable, Laurent had to focus really hard to appear serious.

“Mr. Vallis, I already arranged with your secretary that you’d be free for the next hour. Care to join me for lunch?”

The look Damen gave him at that was absolutely worth explaining his personal relationship with Damen to his sceptic secretary. 

Well, he admitted, it had been easier than expected because Egeria had told him exactly what to say to her and he was apparently blond and pretty enough to be a believable dating partner for Damen. At least Damen’s type came in handy in this situations.

“Are you ambushing me to ask me out?” Damen sounded so excited, Laurent had to put a lot of effort into maintaining a mask of absolute calm.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Vallis. I’m here to discuss business of uttermost importance with you.” 

Damen’s face fell. He looked like a kicked puppy and now Laurent wanted to coo at him and then wrap him in the softest, warmest blanket he had at home. “Then are you available?”

“I am, available that is. I’ll get my coat.” 

Five minutes later they walked on the curb towards the restaurant Laurent had made reservations in. It served Mediterranean food and Laurent had picked it with Damen’s preferences in mind. When something cold landed on his cheek, he furrowed his brow. It shouldn’t be raining today.

Fortunately, they made it inside soon after. They were shown to their table, a secluded spot directly situated by a big window, and sat down. Damen leaned back, his legs casually spread and Laurent was very grateful for the table between them. He couldn’t see anything even if he wanted to. 

“So, what business do you want to discuss with me?”

Laurent leaned in and motioned for Damen to do the same. He raised his eyebrows, but leaned over the table too.

“Closer, Damianos.” He obeyed and Laurent whispered, “I need your help. The situation is dire, indeed and I’m in desperate need of assistance. You’re the only one who can help me.”

Damen looked worried and Laurent had to use every ounce of self-control to keep from bursting into laughter.

“I’ll do what I can. Laurent, I promise I’ll help you to the best of my abilities.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. What are your plans for tomorrow?” Tomorrow was Friday and there were two weeks to go until Christmas. Now, Damen looked very confused. “I’m working.”

“And after work?”

“I- thought about working out.”

“Could I persuade you to skip your workout?” They were still both bowed over the table and Laurent could see the golden flecks in Damen’s brown eyes. He had really pretty eyes. Very warm and earnest. 

“Yes. If you need my help tomorrow, I can absolutely reschedule. Should I come over to your company or do you want to come to my office?” Damen was so cute, Laurent wanted to kiss him all over.

“No. You have to come over to my apartment.”

Now Damen finally seemed to catch up that there was something fishy going on. “You will have to tell me what you need my help for. I’m really worried here and I have the suspicion that you’re joking.”

Laurent smirked. He couldn’t keep it inside any longer. “Well, you shared your apparent proficiency in the baking field with me some time ago and I need to prove to my family that I’m not completely helpless in the kitchen.”

The words needed some time to sink in and when they did, Damen gaped at him. “That’s your ‘business of uttermost importance’?”

Laurent leaned back, nodded and then he started to laugh, because Damen’s expression was so indignant, he couldn’t hold it in for one second longer.

“I was worried here!”

“I know and that was very adorable. But you didn’t answer my question yet. Could you come over to my apartment tomorrow to help me bake Christmas cookies for my whole family who assumes I’d set myself on fire as soon as I step into my kitchen?”

Damen snorted and leaned back too. “I don’t know if I want to help someone who applies such underhanded methods to get help like you, Mr. deVere.”

“Please. I’ll do anything,” Laurent said with his best innocent face while looking at Damen with big pleading eyes. He could see the other man gulp while his gaze dropped to Laurent’s mouth. “Fine. Fine. You win. I’ll be there.” 

Laurent had to look away, otherwise he might have smirked again and that was not very advisable after the stunt he had just pulled. He looked outside. “Oh, it’s snowing, look Damen. It’s the first time this year, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful.” Damen’s voice sounded almost reverently and when Laurent looked back to him, he saw that Damen wasn’t looking outside at all. He felt a flush slowly creep up his neck. Before he could say something, Damen continued, “But, then you really ambushed me to ask me out.” It sounded like a revelation. 

A little bit disbelieving. 

“Yes. And to ask you for your help.” Laurent smiled at him softly, before looking outside again, where the snowflakes fell thick and fluffy.

The complete calendar.

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part six

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x Reader

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

      Posting new chapters every Wednesday and Friday!

          Getting to know you

While a certain member of the Seven entertained violent thoughts at the upper levels, Sarah sat at her desk filing papers. To be honest, she was studying more than she was doing her job, but there wasn’t much of a workload anyway. Keeping her textbook laid flat against her knees, she quickly went through the lines of text before typing away at her computer for a few minutes.

Martha was perched on her desk reading through some folders.

“You do know you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

Sarah sighed and finished the paragraph she was reading on molecular recognition.

“I know,” she conceded, before defending herself. “At least I’m doing something constructive.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and shot, “Look at Sierra, over there.”

Her friend moved naturally, looking over at the clock while noticing the young woman taking a string of selfies with her coffee. Martha grimaced, shaking her head.

“No girl, just no.”

“I know.”

“Someone needs to tell her, she won’t stop.”

Sarah laughed, “She’ll learn someday.”

Checking the clock herself, she found herself growing hot. She pressed her sweaty palms into the wood surface of her desk, letting her legs stretch out underneath it. Her fingers twitched slightly, and she masked her unease by bringing her hand back to her mouse, clicking away at the screen.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sarah made a noncommittal sound, not letting her eyes move away from the screen in front of her.

“You look...” Martha trailed off before finding the right word, “squeamish.”

“Well that sounds lovely. Just what I like to hear.”

Martha sighed, her eyes narrowing at her friend. “You know I worry. You sure everything’s okay?”

The sight of Black Noir occupying her couch was seared into her mind. She could no longer hide. She could only face it and be smart about the information she disclosed.

Her friend was still watching her, and Sarah finally pushed away from the desk.

She pushed her glasses back up and, pinching the bridge of her nose, she bowed her head down.

With her hair falling around her face in soft curls, she murmured, “I’ve made a contact.”

Martha immediately put her papers down and turned to fully face her. “What do you mean?”

“Someone reached out. It’s dangerous, but it could be very rewarding.”

“Who is it?”

Sarah looked around and brought her hands back to the keyboard.

“I really can’t say.”

At Martha’s pointed look, she further explained. “I really can’t tell you. It’s someone—,” she wasn’t sure how she could describe Black Noir without giving it away. “It’s just someone really high up. Lots of info.”

“Oh my gosh, it’s B.N. isn’t it? You said he made contact.”

Sarah shrugged. “Maybe.”

Martha stared at her for a few moments before accepting her friend’s silence.

“Just be careful, okay?”

Sarah nodded, “You know I am.”

Her friend shook her head. “I know you are, but we’re getting closer. Things could get hot.”

The room grew even louder and more boisterous as lunch time rolled around. Sarah proceeded to close the files she’d been working on.

“Oh, and you’ll have to tell me all the deets, understood?”

The young woman laughed, wondering deep down if she’d be able to tell her anything at all. The dead don’t speak.

“I’m ready for lunch, let’s go find Annika.”

.

The hours after lunch were spent worrying and suffocating that same preoccupation with fool-proof schemes. It was an endless cycle, really. Every time she found a flaw in her set of questions, it sent her spiraling into self-doubt. Could she truly pull this off?

She was more and more convinced that he hadn’t been sent by Vought, simply because he was a trained assassin who didn’t need these long and ambiguous methods to extract the information he needed. He was more than capable of inflicting mind-blowing amounts of pain. And pain always loosened the tongue.

So maybe he wasn’t doing this for Vought. Maybe his fixation and stalkerish tendencies towards her could be chalked up as misguided and genuine. In that case, he was still a dangerous wild card since she wasn’t who he thought she was. If he’s truly loyal to the company, her identity might prove to be an issue.

And so, it went on and on. She went through potential questions she could ask, and questions she should steer clear of. She recalled all the tips and tricks Mallory had taught her, from the phrasing of the questions, to the body language she should maintain. The goal was to ask a series of common questions and sparsely slip an inquisitive one into the mix. But would this work on him?

She’d have to work much slower to access some, if any, information.

Most of all, she was afraid of her body giving her away: her fast heartbeat and shallow breathing, paired with the subtle interrogation could give it all away. And this terrified her.

Sarah watched the clock tick closer and closer to five o’clock with increasing dread.

When it arrived, she waved over to Martha, gathered her things and walked out the door with as much confidence as physically possible.

.

In his living quarters, Black Noir stood in front of a mirror. He remembered Sarah’s reaction. The woman apparently concealed it well, but he’d caught onto her fear, her state of agitation and turmoil. Was it because of his dark appearance, or was it something deeper, a reaction to the violence he represented? He tilted his head to the side. Or did it have to do with her file, something she’s hiding?

The tall man couldn’t think of any way to convince her of his good intentions towards her. All he could do was respect her boundaries and listen to her; hope she’d accept him.

He usually avoided the mirror in his room, not really needing it for any aesthetic reason. He wore the same armored suit every day and was almost always covered from head to toe in tough black material. And yet now, he stood tall in front of it and took in the sight. He was closed-off, impenetrable, dangerous and stealthy. He appreciated the simplicity of the reinforced suit. It wasn’t flashy like the ones his teammates wore. And it didn’t convey any light-hearted or patriotic meaning. It was functional and allowed him to blend into the shadows and kill. His skull-like mask was the last thing many men saw before he proceeded in tearing them apart. Seeing it in daylight had nothing on witnessing it come out of the shadows at night. Like a nightmare taking form right before their eyes.

And now Sarah had witnessed a small violence on his part, the skull he hid behind and the strength he possessed. It was perfectly normal for her to be afraid.

But the knife, a small part of him reminded. Yes, that was a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. But he’d take his time, god knows he could be patient. Especially if it was for her. The mysterious Sarah Burns.

.

As eight o ‘clock crept closer, Sarah could be found in her kitchen, finishing up her dinner. The creamy pasta she’d made sat heavy in her stomach, the knowledge of her impending doom adding an extra ton. After quickly washing the dishes, she sat at the table and scrolled through the memes Martha had sent her. When she realized they revolved around Homelander, she grew interested. There was no way the Seven’s leader would accept this, and the inner conflict it would produce was the perfect cover for her plan to proceed.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Sitting still, she tensed, ready to whip up and out of her chair. A dark clothed hand came up and over her shoulder moving towards her cell phone.

She almost jumped out of her skin as her mind thought of the worst possible outcome of having his hand so close to her neck. And yet, he simply leaned over and promptly pressed the heart icon below one of the memes. He liked the meme.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak and closed it a few times. He finally retreated from his spot hovering over her and went to stand at a respectful distance, his back to the wall.

She spun around and stood up, her heart still clogging her throat.

“Jesus Christ,” she hissed, eyes wide and a hand raised to her chest.

He simply watched her with that magnetic gaze she couldn’t seem to escape. She picked at the hem of her shirt, not knowing how to proceed. How had he even entered the house?

His gaze settled on the small notebook she’d left on the table for their upcoming meeting. He moved slowly and gave her wide birth as he took it up into his hands. He flipped to a blank page and wrote.

Are you afraid, he paused before adding, of me?

He passed the notebook to her. She took it hesitantly, and once she read his message, her eyes kept flicking from the page to his mask. You could snap me like a twig. She was indeed very much afraid.

“No,” she answered, with a slight shake of her head.

He tilted his head slightly to the left before raising his hand to his chest. He lightly tapped right over his heart. Sarah initially didn’t understand the meaning of the gesture, but soon realized he was referring to her heartbeat.

She brushed it aside, “Oh...” You probably have a dozen different instruments of death concealed in your suit. “That’s nothing, I’m just jumpy, I guess.”

She hummed, looking for a way to grow her confidence and gain control of the situation.

“Plus, you kind of came out of nowhere. In my house.”

He was still, unsure of how his sudden appearance would pan out. He almost wanted to hit himself for not thinking it through.

“How did you even get in here? I know everything was locked.”

He shrugged, almost imperceptibly, before offering his hand. She passed him the notebook and pen.

Trade secret. If I told you, I’d have to kill you :)

Her heart almost stopped cold before she regained composure. If it weren’t for the smiley face he’d added towards the end, she might have died right then and there. And she laughed, she actually laughed. Maybe it was the tension, or the insane fact that Black Noir was in her home, attempting to crack a joke.

“I guess I don’t really need to know,” she surmised with a small smile.

He nodded before adding more to the page.

Your day?

“How was my day?

He nodded, captivated by the fluid movements her hands naturally made as she spoke. He’d noticed it immediately the first night he’d seen her at the gala. Over the next week of watching her, he’d quickly filed it as one of her mannerisms.

“I can’t complain. Honestly, I don’t really like that job, it’s more something to keep the bills payed until I get the position I want.”

He wrote, PhD student. Applied Physiology

“That’s correct,” she confirmed. “Why am I not surprised you know that?”

I know some things. Not everything.

He wanted to apologize for making her uncomfortable but ultimately found it too difficult to actually write down. He wasn’t accustomed to apologizing; he’d never actually needed to. Not out loud, or on paper.

She accepted the quiet confession. “That’s okay. I’m not all that interesting, and there’s nothing to hide.”

They both knew it was a lie, but Black Noir understood her need to protect herself. She’d share the truth with him once he’d won her trust.

“How was your day?”

He straightened and thought of how to approach this question. Thinking on his toes, he went with the easiest, most believable story.

Meetings, promotional event. He added for emphasis. Boring. I slept.

There was no way he could tell her he’d spent most of the day fantasizing her ex-boyfriend’s murder, only to have it executed a few hours ago.

She laughed lightly, “Who knew, I thought you’d be off on some top-secret mission.”

Her hopes were crushed when he answered with a simple shake of the head. She hummed. He leaned against the wall, ever observant of the woman facing him.

“Oh, you can sit. Here let me—”

She got up to pull a chair out for him, but he stopped her with a raised hand. He crossed over to her side of the table and angled the chair she’d been previously occupying before abruptly standing and knocking it out of the way. She slowly sat and let him push her in. He calmly took a seat in front of her.

“Thank you”

I have manners :) 

She nodded, “Yes, you do.”

She squirmed under his stare, under the black mask she was starting to grow accustomed to.

Sarah broke the silence, “I wanted to thank you for the other day. I could’ve handled it, but I’m glad you intervened.”

He watched her and she continued, “It was a bad relationship, and seeing him really threw me off balance. Then you showed up, and I was just…,” she trailed off.

He reached out and briefly touched her hand before sharply retrieving it. It was what he’d seen other people do in society, or in the movies he watched in the privacy of his living quarters. As he understood, it was meant as a way to show affection and give comfort. But were they at a stage where he could do that? He honestly didn’t know.

He jotted down a line, I understand

“And thank you for the gifts, I mean, the flowers and the earrings—they’re all so beautiful but you really don’t have to go through all that trouble.”

I want to

She smiled reading the words. She leaned back in her chair and took him all in. Who was this man? The Black Noir she’d gathered intel on for Mallory was nothing like the man sitting in front of her. Well, maybe that was extreme, she had seen proof of his deadly work. And yet, she was not seeing the ferocious, sinister monster she’d come to imagine over the years.

He was a more complex sort of enigma, one that was maybe as complicated as her own. While she needed to maintain her guard around him, she found herself slightly relaxing in his presence. There were multiple layers to this man, and maybe she could appeal to the human, well-mannered side of him.

.

They spent the rest of the next hour exchanging questions. They mostly revolved around their likes and dislikes, jumping from books to foods, and finally to movies. She quickly realized he was well cultured on cinema, especially war and action movies which he clearly enjoyed.

“Hmm, how about Tears of the Sun?”

He nodded. A favorite.

“Black Hawk Down?”

The large man nodded with enthusiasm.

“What about Saving Private Ryan.”

He snorted. Don’t insult me

“What’s your favorite movie ever? Like the perfect mix of action, shooting and humor.”

He thought for a few seconds before deciding. Die Hard

When he pushed the notebook towards her for her to read, he emphasized his point by tapping on it and sitting back, arms crossed.

“Well, I like what I see. Yippee kay ye, am I right?” she said with mirth. “Yeah, I think that’s Bruce Willis’s best movie.”

He was glad she liked it as well. Early that morning, he’d made a rapid search on the Internet before having to attend meetings. He searched, “How do you know your first date is going well.” He wasn’t quite sure if it was an official date, but in his mind, it was as close to it as it could get. His search gave a wide range of answers. After reading through a bunch of them, he gathered that for it to go well they needed to click. There had to be a spark, whatever that meant.

More precisely, there had to be common topics, common likes and dislikes. The conversation should come easy, and awkward silences should be avoided at all costs because, while they might not disturb him, they may be uncomfortable for her. And while they’d gotten off to a rough start, things were now going quite smoothly.

Sarah thought long and hard, “What about Pearl Harbor? It isn’t as action-packed but it’s still a really good historical war movie.”

No

She nodded, and shyly added, “Well, if you’d like to, you could come over and watch it. Actually, we could watch Die Hard one time, and Pearl Harbor another.”

He watched her, the way she was so self-conscious. Sarah constantly touched her cheeks, her curly hair, her neck. If only she could see herself the way he saw her.

He wrote. I would like that

Checking her watch, she barely contained a yawn.

“I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s just late for me,” she assured.

I’ll go

“No, it’s okay, really.”

He shook his head. I don’t need sleep. You do

I’ll be back for those movies

Sarah smiled, “All right.”

Black Noir rose to his full height and she watched him with a twinge of fascination. Who even was this man?

When can I see you

“Well, tomorrow night I’m going out with my friend, but we can definitely schedule Die Hard for the night after. Eight pm?”

I’ll be here.

She walked him to the door and leaned against the wood. The doorway seemed smaller as he walked through. He clicked the switch turning her porch lights out and quickly jotted a few lines down.

Turn them on when I leave. Safer

She nodded with a small smile. How could someone as dangerous as him be so concerned with her well-being, she didn’t know, but she found herself liking it regardless.

He quickly scribbled something down before shutting the notebook and handing it back over.

Facing her, he raised a hand as if he were about to wave. His hand twisted into a thumbs up before he took his leave. Walking away, he crossed under a single streetlight before disappearing into an alley.

She stayed there for a few more seconds, just peering into the darkness. Heeding his advice, she shut the door and switched the porch lights back on. Retreating further into her home, she flipped through the pages looking for his last note. It was a small smiley face he’d doodled on the edge of the page.

She steeled herself against feeling anything but contempt. She reminded herself of the danger he could pose to her. But as much as she wanted to suppress it, she couldn’t help the small smile on her face as she fell asleep.

Giulia

PART 7

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[kinetic-elaboration]

September 10: Friday

I just had this feeling this morning like I didn’t want to go to work and eh... that was probably right. Nothing really bad happened, I just felt very strongly that I did NOT want to be there.

My coworker wanted to talk to me at like 8:30 in the morning (you know those silly little ‘don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee’ signs?? literally do not talk to me before 9:30 EARLIEST) and I was supremely incoherent. Then later a different coworker essentially took out his bad mood on my department including on me personally, and it was... dumb. I got his point but I’m just, as I tried to explain to others later, unkeen on being talked to about actions I took under others’ explicit instructions. Also, in part because of that, in part because I thought he was semi-unreasonable, and in part because I just truly didn’t want to do what he was asking/telling me to do, I did not really budge on the issue. Which was very awkward because as I said I did get his point. And of course the issue is SOMETHING DUMB which is always how it is. All of these fights are 100% shit that would sound idiotic if you tried to explain it to someone else, which is why I’m vaguing right now.

And the nametags thing came up on Teams (thanks @ the same coworker), and the only good thing about that is that the director explicitly said she was against the idea so I feel pretty confident that it won’t be mandated. Also I could detect some panic in other people about it. I do NOT like the way this is being handled AT ALL. Plus it’s just the hill I’ve decided to die on (because I think I can win--so I guess it’s better to say this is the hill I’m going to defeat my enemies on) so I gotta get annoyed at it. I refrained from contributing to the conversation but I did like the director’s anti-nametag post, which I think gets my point across.

Also I felt like I spent a lot of time doing not much, to be honest. Still didn’t go to stupid compact shelving. Devoted too much time to the crap in the above paragraphs. Talked to BL over in admin and heard some more unflattering stories about a particular administrator. Like, incredibly unflattering. Which is stuff I do want to know but it contributes to the overall Mood of the day, which again is ‘I don’t want to be here.’

I took a very late lunch, and that in turn contributed to me not paying enough attention to the time and leaving late.OH AND I got 3 important emails in the last ten minutes of the day. Two were very expected because they were coming from the West Coast but the last was like.. do not make me deal with this right now.

I didn’t deal with almost any of it but I did get so distracted that I left about five minutes late, and so I missed the bus. I wasn’t too upset about it since the weather was nice anyway and I didn’t mind spending some time downtown. But I did waste time trying to see if I could catch said bus, and then more time trying to go to my favorite coffee shop, which had closed at 5. But since it was 5:15, there were still people inside (cleaning up, which is fair) and people outside (drinking coffees they’d bought before 5 I’m sure, also fair), and the sign said hours were until 7 so I spent a few confused, embarrassing moments going ????? what is the truth?

So ultimately I went to a different cafe, a newish one that opened in 2019 I think. I’ve always avoided it in part because the floor is very loud and in part because I felt like I was cheating on my main place lol. (Not that I never get coffee anywhere else... just that this place is so close to my usual place, I always feel like, if I’m in the area, I might as well go to said usual place.) I did find the inside very disorienting. The pattern of the floor is just truly A Lot. They did have these weird teacup ornaments hanging from the ceiling though. I got an iced latte, which was fine, and this delicious spinach and feta pastry. I feel like I should stop by more often for baked goods. I settled outside with what I’d gotten, mostly because of the floor, partly because it actually was nice out, and partly because I’m not currently comfortable with indoor dining, even in places with almost no one in them.

I only had like 25 minutes to kill at that point, but it was nice. I had a notebook with me and I did a teeny bit of planning on the Southern Gothic AU (still behind on this!!). Mostly I listened to the conversation next to me. I couldn’t entirely help it; the girl’s voice was carrying. She was talking to her guy friend about some recent issues they’d been having in their friendship. I was honestly...kind of impressed with them? I could mostly hear her--he was talking too but his voice didn’t carry as much--but it just overall sounded like a really open, emotionally honest, generally calm talk. Like certainly there were strong emotions in play (not exactly going to judge whether they were “warranted” given the apparent facts of the dispute, since I just ranted about a disagreement over something so dumb I don’t even want to name it in public) but they were just... expressing feelings that were difficult, and expressing displeasure with others’ actions, without yelling or being passive aggressive, etc. I mean even that they’d picked this time and place to meet specifically to discuss it I thought was commendable. And they were definitely friends, not bf/gf, because the disagreement involved his girlfriend (once referred to as his “partner”...sorry lol I judged that a LITTLE since they looked like they were maybe 21 years old--partner in WHAT??). The girl mentioned her therapist, which put a lot of her tone and vocabulary into perspective. Not necessarily in a bad way, I mean, it seemed to be working? But as someone who has never been to therapy, but is self-taught, so to speak, in gauging and describing my own feelings, I could... discern a sort of purposeful vocabulary that almost sounded scripted. I wrote down some specific quotes but I don’t want to put them in a public place. I’ll draw my respecting-strangers’-privacy line in the sand there. But a lot of, like “when you do x, it makes me feel y” kind of controlled explanations.

Anyway, I got very invested in that. Partly for future writing purposes, partly out of curiosity and partly because... I don’t know that I could have that kind of conversation NOW and I’m fairly sure I could not have when I was in college. I mean.... I don’t know... I’ve blocked out a lot of the pretentious/serious/about-our-feelings talks I did have. And what sticks out now are all the times I didn’t do that--all of the many, many issues with TA38... Even the way B and I have literally NEVER acknowledged the handful of times we hooked up in 2009.

You’re never gonna sound COOL talking about your emotions, your wants and your needs; it’s always gonna sound, imo, like a Therapy Script. And I don’t even always think you gotta have those talks. After graduation, R and I literally had this exchange where we said ‘well we both made mistakes last year, and we could try to untangle it now, but it’s just gonna bring up a lot of bad feelings. It’s done now anyway. Blanket apologies given, blanket acceptance of apologies, let’s move on.” And we did and it was fine. But if we’d had better conversations while we were living together, that would have been a different situation.

All of which is of course complicated for me personally because I am extremely conflict-averse. EXTREMELY.

Anyway, I ran into BL at the bus stop and we talked a bit there and on the bus, which was fine but kinda exhausting tbqh especially because of the topic of conversation. I got home at 6:30 and must have crawled immediately into bed and gone to sleep, but I barely remember it at all. Woke up at 10:30 and had no idea what time it was or what day it was or what I was doing.

Had dinner and then somehow went down a rabbit hole that started... somewhere?? and ended with me looking up my childhood home on Google Earth, which you KNOW is the sign of a mentally stable person who is doing just fine okay.

Now it’s the absolutely disgusting hour of 2:30 in the morning... Idk I wanted to go out tomorrow and take advantage of the nice weather but we’ll see how that goes. The thing is I feel like I need a full day to sleep but I only have two (2) days and in that time I gotta do laundry, cook for the week, preferably write one (1) whole chapter of this fic, and possibly also go on the aforementioned excursion. Which is a lot for me. It doesn’t really... fit.

Everything’s just so much all the time and so on.

[pepethehobbit]

VDS College AU

Okay so first of all, Hi everybody. I have never written anything in my life before, at least not a fan fiction, so please be gentle with me. Also notice that English isn’t my first language, so if there are any mistakes I am sorry and I am asking you to please point them out to me. In general, any constructive criticism is welcomed.

I originally wanted to wait for vds week to post this but I finished it and I would really like your feedback and reactions. I am truly very nervous, I usually don’t put myself out there, so please be kind, yeah?

Now to the fic itself. It’s sort of a little cracky, but not really, I tried my best okay? I was inspired by a fic called “I have hella feelings for you” by MacksDramaticShenanigangs on AO3. It’s an evak fic and it’s really funny and angsty, it has it all, you should all go read it. She was inspired by one particular tumblr post which you can find here.

Okay anyway, enough from me, I hope you enjoy the story, I had certaintly had fun writing it and for my first try, I actually kind of like it. Apart from the title, please ignore the terrible title, I couldn’t come up with anything else.

Speechless

It was Lucas first real day at the University of Antwerp and also the day he saw him for the first time. The week prior had been solely for orientation and no real courses had started. It was just a way to show the freshmen how the Uni works and a chance for getting to know your fellow students. The group he was sorted into was full of other art students like him. There was one student though who he clicked with immediately. He had platinum white hair and always wore, as far as Lucas could tell, a black leather jacket and chunky Dr. Martens. Lucas and Sander discovered that they share a portraits class together and decided to meet in front of the building before classes would start.  

So that’s where Lucas found himself right now, in front of the art building, waiting for Sander with a coffee in his hand. He was feeling a mixture of excitement and regret. He was truly happy that he could finally begin his new life, to study what he loves and away from the controlling grasp of his father’s hand. But did he really have to pick his first class on a Monday at 8 o’clock in the fucking morning? His thoughts went back to his friends back in Utrecht and he decided to text them about his poor life choices, throwing in a miss u guys for good measure. Obviously there was no immediate response, as they probably were a bit smarter than to take 8 am classes. When he looked up from his phone he was greeted with the sight of Sander jogging up to him.

“Hey Lucas, I am so sorry I’m late. Did you wait here long? I’m sorry but Robbe was being his extra cuddly self this morning.” said Sander in a way of explaining that made Lucas think he was supposed to understand.  

Lucas was a bit confused by this statement as he had no clue who Robbe is. “No worries, I only got here 5 minutes ago. But let’s go inside, I don’t want to sit in the first row.”  

They found some free seats at the back of the classroom and while they were sitting down Lucas asked who Robbe is.

“Oh, yeah sorry, of course you wouldn't know. Robbe is my boyfriend, we just moved in together. Everything is still a bit stressful with unpacking and we are waiting for the kitchen to arrive, so he needed some morning cuddles.” While Sander was talking Lucas noticed how his voice filled with excitement and how his smile got considerably wider as he talked about his boyfriend.  

Lucas was kind of jealous. Not of Robbe of course. But he wished for that kind of intimacy and love in his life. He knew he was gay and there were a few hook ups here and there back in Utrecht but never anything serious and always hidden from the outside world. His friends and his mum knew but he wants to have a person that would make him happy and that he could show off with pride. He doesn’t want to hide anymore.

“The kitchen should be there by Wednesday, and we are planning on throwing a housewarming party on Friday. You should come. I’ll introduce you to Robbe, I’m sure you guys will get along great, I can feel it.” Sander was grinning as he said it and Lucas easily agreed.  

“Yeah sure, I would love to come. I’ve never been to a housewarming party, anything I should bring?” Before Sander could answer the professor walked in and the class started. Sander whispered: “We’ll talk later.”  

The next one and a half hours were filled with mostly boring organizational stuff and one homework assignment. The professor wanted to have an overview of his students’ skills. After class Sander had to rush to his next course and yelled over his shoulder as he ran the other way that he will text Lucas the address for the party and that he looks forward to introducing him to Robbe.  

Lucas waved him goodbye and headed to the campus cafeteria, he didn’t have time for breakfast this morning and just bought a quick coffee to feel more awake. On his way there a group of three boys caught his attention. Actually it would have been hard to overlook them as they were laughing loudly and gesturing wildly with their skateboards in their hands.

But one of them in particular made Lucas steal a second glance. He was tall, maybe even taller than Lucas, brown eyes, a jawline that could cut glass, a smile that made Lucas’s inside fill with butterflies and dark brown hair that looked so soft and fluffy that Lucas had the sudden urge to go over there and pull his hands through it.He wore a red sweater that looked like it experienced a lot of love throughout the years and loose hanging jeans.

Lucas stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at the beautiful stranger. He only vaguely noticed the other boys, one with blonde curly hair and the other with a red and black striped jacket. The boys continued talking and it looked like they were trying to convince Hot Guy to do something. He was vehemently shaking is head while laughing as the others were nodding their heads enthusiastically and making a look around you motion with their arms.  

Lucas noticed that he was still staring at Hot Guy and quickly snapped out of it, he didn’t want to be creepy. And he had places to be and was actually really hungry now. One last look at the boy with the most beautiful and kind looking eyes Lucas has ever seen and he would be on his way.  

Only now Lucas was directly looking into them. An expression came across Hot Guy’s face that looked pleasantly surprised and caught off guard at the same time. Hot Guy held his gaze for what felt like forever and Lucas knew he was doomed. He needed to get going or he would develop a useless crush on someone that was probably straight anyway. So he quickly looked away and continued down his path to the cafeteria trying to get those eyes out of his mind.  

He was nearly at the entrance when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was once again met with Hot Guy’s face. Only now up close he was even more beautiful than Lucas could have seen from afar. He didn’t know what to do as he kept staring up at him in shock. Turns out he actually is taller than Lucas, if only by a little bit.  

Before he had a chance to say anything though, Hot Guy just raised his hand in the universal sign of expecting a high five while lifting his eyebrows expectantly. Lucas was dumbfounded, stared at him for a while longer and then just raised his own hand to slap it against the strangers. Because what else are you supposed to do when the most beautiful boy you have ever seen just comes up to you and silently demands a high five.  

Lucas is still in shock but the moment he wants to pull his hand away Hot Guy links their fingers together, swings their now joined hands back and forth a few times and says:  

“Hi, I’m Jens. We’re dating now. Love you, babe!”  

Before Lucas had a chance to respond or to even fucking process what the hell just happened, Hot Guy winks at him, let’s go of his hand, puts his skateboard on the ground and skates back to the direction he came from.  

Lucas was speechless. Truly and utterly speechless. What the hell? He looked after Hot Guy, or Jens apparently, as he skated away so smoothly Lucas was a bit jealous of his skills. He turned a corner and Lucas couldn’t see him anymore. Still being in shock he began to shake himself out of his stupor. He started to laugh as he saw how ridiculous this whole situation was. A few faces turned his way while he just continued to silently shake his head in amusement and disbelief of what the hell just happened.  

He stood in front of the cafeteria a while longer still unable to process what that was until the growling of his stomach finally brought him back to reality. He went in, bought himself a croque and sat down near the window to look outside to the other students still mingling around the lawn. Another smile began to spread on his face as he began to recall the feeling of Jens holding his hand tightly in his own.  

This is ridiculous, Lucas thought. Don’t get attached, that was just a stupid joke, there is no way that Jens was actually interested in him. Still the situation made him smile and secretly there was a part of him that hoped he would see him again even if the rational part of his brain tried to drown out these thoughts. As he ate his croque Lucas was unable to stop smiling.

The following days were normal. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. He hadn’t seen Jens again and Lucas tried to forget the incident as well as he could. He had met with Sander once in a break between classes to eat lunch. As much as he tried to forget Jens, he found himself telling the story to Sander. He told him he saw him before he was approached by him and that he thought that he was beautiful. Sander smiled knowingly at him but didn’t say anything and let Lucas continue. Lucas finished with: “Well I know it was just a joke anyway and I know he wasn’t serious, how could he have been, he doesn’t know me.”

“That sounds like there should be a but somewhere.” Sander smirked at him. He has this expression as if he knew something Lucas didn’t.  

“No, there is no but. Sure, he was the most beautiful man I have ever seen, but it was a joke and I shouldn’t get my hopes up in ever seeing him again. This is a big campus with lots of students. I am sure he pulls stuff like this with a lot of other people.” Lucas tried hard not to sound jealous, because that would truly be a bit pathetic. Jealousy for hypothetical people? Get a grip, Lucas.  

“Well now I am just offended, what about me? I am clearly prettier than Jens.” Sander smiled teasingly at Lucas but something else caught his attention. “Wait, wait, wait, I didn’t say his name was Jens, Sander!” Lucas saw a flash of an “oh shit” expression cross Sander’s face and before Sander could say something back, Lucas nearly shouted in surprise: “You know Jens! Holy shit! How? Is he a friend of yours? Did he tell you about that already?” There were some more questions racing through his head right now but before he could utter them Sander stood up abruptly and mumbled an excuse of being late to meet with Robbe.  

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and go Sander, who is he? I want to know him!” Lucas said in disbelief. But Sander was already on his way, at the exit he looked back at a still very much in shock Lucas and said: “I’ll text you the address for our party tomorrow. Who knows, maybe your mystery man will be there. Then you can ask him yourself.”  

And with that, Lucas was left speechless for the second time in just one week.  

His initial plan to forget about Jens turned out to be quite hard after Sander had accidentally revealed that he knew the person that had left him so amazed. With the connection to Sander, Lucas let himself hope that he would have a chance of getting to know Jens. The rational part of his brain told him that he shouldn’t go to that party, Jens will be there and Lucas will just embarrass himself in front of him with his obvious crush. But his heart told him to go and to take the chance. Even if Jens really was only joking and he wasn’t the least bit interested in Lucas, it was still a great opportunity to make new friends here in Antwerp and maybe even laugh with Jens about the whole situation. Without revealing Lucas giant crush of course.  

So, that’s how he found himself in front of an older looking apartment building looking for the doorbell of Driesen and Ijzermans being rather nervous. What if Jens was really there? Or worse, what if he wasn’t? He was just about to contemplate leaving when a girl with platinum blonde hair like Sander’s arrived at the door and asked: “Are you here for the housewarming party as well?” Lucas took that as his sign that he should just suck it up and give it a chance. He smiled at her and said: “Yes I am. I’m Lucas. I met Sander at orientation week and he invited me here.”

“Oh so you are an art student as well? I’m Zoe by the way.” She said it while she pressed the door bell and a few seconds later they were buzzed in. They held small talk in the elevator all the way up to the top floor. Zoe apparently was Robbe’s old roommate and they knew each other from school. She now also studies law at the University of Antwerp.  

When they arrived at the top floor the door to the flat was already open, signalling any visitors where the party was happening. They could hear the music and faint conversations from the hall. Zoe confidently entered the flat and was immediately greeted by a boy with brown, long, wavy hair, in clothes that were at least one size to big for him.  

“Robbe! It’s so nice to finally see you again, it’s been way to long.” Zoe exclaimed while she hugged him hello. Sander appeared behind Robbe and hugged Zoe as well once his boyfriend was done cuddling his old roommate. He noticed Lucas standing somewhat awkwardly at the side of the doorway and ushered him inside.  

“Hey Lucas, you came! I wasn’t sure if you really would after our last conversation.” At that Robbe looked a bit confused. Sander turned to him and just said with a certain conspirational and suggestive tone to his voice: “Robbe, that’s the Lucas, the one your best friend and I told you about.” At that Robbe’s confused expression turned into one of recognition and he hugged Lucas enthusiastically in greeting.  

“Oh Lucas, of course. I have heard so much about you.” Now it was Lucas turn to be confused, because he genuinely doesn’t have a clue as to why Robbe would be so excited to meet him. Also who is Robbe’s best friend, how does he know Lucas and why would he talk about him a lot? It doesn’t make any sense.  

He tried to shake himself out of his confusion, just greeted Robbe in return and told him that Sander basically never shuts up about him as well and that he feels like he knows him already. At the mention of Sander talking about Robbe, he just blushed and looked up into his boyfriends eyes. Sander leaned down and pressed a quick but firm kiss to Robbe’s lips and it seemed like Robbe needed a few seconds to come back to earth.

“Anyway, it’s really nice to finally have a face to put to that story. Make yourself comfortable, drink anything you want, beer is in the fridge and if you want to smoke we have balcony.” At the last part of the sentence Robbe wiggled his eyebrows suggestively making it clear that he did not talk about smoking cigarettes.  

Lucas laughed at that. “I do actually have some with me. I don’t trust you Belgians with something so precious as weed.”

As Robbe laughed Lucas noticed someone coming out of a room, stepping into the hall and he had to suck in a breath. It was him. Jens. Hot Guy. But not in his red sweater this time. He was dressed in a blue button down, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His rather loose hanging pants from the first time Lucas saw him were replaced with tighter black jeans and that just really wasn’t fair to Lucas. His hair though looked still as soft as Lucas remembered and he is again overcome with the urge to run his fingers through it.  

“Robbe, what is taking you so long? I thought we were gonna smoke.” Jens made his way over to them and Lucas tried to prepare himself as best as he could. But nothing could have prepared him for the glory that is Jens up close. He must have already drank a fair amount, his cheeks were flushed slightly red and when he saw Lucas he stopped dead in his tracks and swayed a little having to hold on onto the wall next to him.  

It seemed like Jens got his chill back rather quickly though. He threw his arms up around both Sander’s and Robbe’s shoulders, standing in the middle of them. He didn’t look at them but held Lucas gaze steady when he uttered the sentence that would leave Lucas speechless for the third time this week. All of these moments had something to do with Jens.  

“Robbe. Sander. Allow me to introduce you to my future boyfriend.”  

Lucas gaped at him, not really knowing what to say, while Sander and Robbe laughed at this ridiculous comment. But then Lucas saw an opportunity. Didn’t he say Jens and he were already dating? He looked up at Jens and tried to infuse his gaze with as much confidence and cheek as possible.  

“Future boyfriend? I thought we were already dating?” At that Jens’s smile grew wider and he stretched his hand towards Lucas and said: “I’m Jens.”  

Lucas smirked at him and took Jens’s hand in his for the second time this week. “I know. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t even know your name?”  

“Well, looks like our help is not needed here anymore. We’ll leave you to it.” Sander pulled Robbe and Zoe, who was still standing next to Lucas with an amused face, away from the doorway and further into the flat leaving Jens and Lucas alone in the hall, still holding each other’s hands.

They stared at each other for a few moments without saying anything. Lucas noticed that the blush was still present on Jens’ cheeks and a hoop earring that he hasn’t seen before, that somehow just made him even hotter. It was becoming a bit awkward just standing there, staring at each other but Lucas for the life of him did not want to stop. He scrambled his brain for something to say but was saved by Jens interrupting his thoughts.  

“I must say, you are at an unfair advantage. You are definitely the better boyfriend. I don’t even know your name.”  

Right, yeah. Lucas totally forgot to introduce himself. He felt like they knew each other already, it was really weird what Jens made him feel in these short interactions they had until now.  

“Well that’s just rude. You always go up to random boys, claim them as your boyfriend and forget to ask their names?” Lucas said instead of introducing himself. He had way too much fun with this situation. He was finally talking to Jens, he seems funny and if Lucas is reading the signs right he is even flirting with him a little bit.  

“You were not a random choice.” Jens mumbled under his breath and looked down at his hand. Lucas wasn’t quite sure if he heard that correctly.  

“What did you say?” Lucas asked but instead of answering Jens just pulled at his hand that he was still holding and led him into the flat. As he walked in front of Lucas with their joined hands he turned his head back over his shoulder to look at Lucas and asked: “Wanna smoke?”  

There really only was one simple answer to that question. “Sure” Lucas said with a grin on his face so wide it could split his face in half. Jens answering smile was just as wide and he pulled Lucas through the kitchen onto the balcony. Thankfully they were the only ones with this idea, as they were alone once again as they stepped into the cool night air. Lucas was not quite ready to share Jens yet. He wanted to get to know him more.  

“This is actually a little bit embarrassing, again. I didn’t bring any weed.” Jens looked at him sheepishly and Lucas had to laugh.  

“You invite me to smoke with you, without having anything on you? That was a great plan really, you really have thought this trough, haven’t you?”  

Jens tried to level him with a look that Lucas read as “I am not impressed” and Lucas just raised his eyebrows at him in return in a playfully mocking way.  

“Okay, yes, I admit, not one of my best moments. Maybe I just looked for an excuse to be alone with you some more, you are my boyfriend after all. I don’t like sharing you.” Lucas was truly baffled. How could Jens seem almost shy at one moment and then just say stuff like that with a confidence that Lucas wishes he had. Lucas just tried to keep up with the banter and not completely melt at the sight of Jens so close to him.  

“Oh you mean the boyfriend you still don’t know the name of?” Lucas said with a cheeky smile up at Jens.

“Because you won’t give it to me.” And that was just the perfect opportunity for Lucas to tease Jens even further.

“Woah, woah, woah, that’s moving a bit fast don’t you think? We haven’t even kissed yet.” Lucas can’t help the pleased smile as Jens is having a coughing fit and trying to control his breathing again. He didn’t know where his confidence was coming from but he liked that it seemed to have an effect on Jens. The blush that went away when they stepped onto the balcony is back at full force as he sputterd out incoherent sentences.

“That’s not what I… I just wanted… That came out so wrong! I mean not that I would mind if we did, you’re gorgeous. Oh god sorry I’m making you uncomfortable, you barely know me and I just…”  

Before Jens could continue though, Lucas decided to save him. “Jens, oh my god, shut up.” He laughed while he says it, took his hand in his again and introduced himself. “My name is Lucas. And I actually have some weed we could share. It’s better than your Belgian shit anyway.” Lucas got his already rolled joint out of his pocket, lit it up and took his first drag.  

At that, Jens seemed to return to his chill demeanour and relaxed his shoulders again. He huffed out a relieved laugh and said: “Come on, you probably haven’t even tried Belgian weed. Don’t knock it till you tried it. Next time, I’ll bring the weed. I promise.”  

“Next time?” Lucas couldn’t help but ask, as he really wanted to see Jens again after tonight. He handed the joint over to Jens and he didn’t make a great effort to avoid their fingers brushing over each other.  

Jens smiled at him in a way that can almost be described as fondly. He took a drag, exhaled the smoke, looked Lucas in the eye intently and said: “Yeah next time. You really expect to never see your boyfriend again?”  

Lucas laughed at that but it came out weak. He didn’t know if this is still just part of the joke for Jens or if there is a part of him that really wants to see Lucas again. He just had to ask.  

“Why did you do it?” He looked down at his hands, avoiding Jens’ gaze while he waited for the answer.He didn’t specify what he was talking about but Jens knew anyway.

“Honestly, it was a dare. My friends came up with it. I was supposed to go up to anyone, give them a high five and say that we are dating now and then just leave without saying anything else. I didn’t really wanna do it, but I thought the idea was funny.”  

Oh. Well, that definitely wasn’t the answer Lucas was hoping for. Part of him thought about this as well. That it was a prank would be the most logical explanation for it. But the other part of him had hoped that Jens did it because he was interested in Lucas.  

“Oh, okay.” Lucas didn’t know what else to say to that. He must have done a poor job of concealing the disappointment in his voice as Jens chuckled, lifted his finger to Lucas’ chin to make him look him into his eyes again. Lucas saw amusement there and maybe also a bit of hope.  

“But then I saw you.” Jens said in explanation as if this would clarify any of the insecurity in Lucas’ brain.  

“What do you mean?”  

“Well, I didn’t want to go up to just anyone and do what I did with you. I thought the idea was ridiculous and I would only embarrass myself. But then I saw you… and I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you. So I decided to suck it up and accepted the dare. It was just an excuse to hold your hand really.” Jens explained with a chuckle. He then looked into Lucas’ eyes with hope and an edge of vulnerability.

“Oh, okay.” This time it was not disappointment filling his voice but absolute wonder and amazement. He didn’t know what to say to Jens so he just continued to stare into those beautiful brown eyes. Jens’ hand was still under Lucas’ chin. When did their faces get so close? He saw how Jens’ gaze dropped down to Lucas lips and as if on instinct Lucas couldn’t help but pull them between his teeth to wet them. He inched his face closer to Jens, dropping his gaze to his mouth just as Jens looked up into his eyes again. The corner of Jens’ mouth curled up as he made the distance between their lips even smaller. Lucas could feel the other boy’s breath across his lips. They were only inches apart now and Lucas was desperate to know how those soft looking lips would feel on his own.  

The balcony door opened and two other boys Lucas didn’t know stepped on to it. Jens and he scrambled apart in shock and looked at each other sheepishly.  

“Hey, one of you have a lighter?” One of the boys asked. Lucas, glad for the distraction, gave his lighter to him so he could lit up his cigarette. He was still trying to process the intensity of the moment he and Jens just shared.

“Thanks, man. You planing on sharing this?” He asked with a smile and pointed to the joint still in Jens hand which wasn’t even lit anymore. Jens looked at Lucas for confirmation as it was his weed. Lucas just nodded and for the duration it took to smoke the rest of the joint he found himself trapped in awkward small talk with these two boys and Jens. He just wanted to be alone with Jens again and maybe finally find out what those lips feel like on his. But the moment was gone and Lucas couldn’t help but feel disappointed.  

When the boys stepped back inside, Jens and him followed them. But before Lucas could step back into the kitchen, Jens reached for his hand and linked their fingers together. Lucas looked up at him in surprise. Jens only shrugged with his shoulders and motioned for Lucas to follow him to the living room, where many people were already dancing.  

And so Lucas spend the rest of the evening dancing with Jens and talking to him and his friends on the couch when they needed a break. He found out that Jens is Robbe’s best friend and at that he leaned into Jens’ space and whispered in his ear: “So you talked to Robbe about me, huh?” Jens only blushed and pushed him away just to pull him close to his side again. He found out that Jens is studying music, has lived in Antwerp his whole life, that his baby sister is called Lotte and that he loves her a lot. He found out that Jens came out as bisexual in the last year of high school where he just kissed a boy in the middle of a party for everyone of his classmates to see. Everything he found out about Jens that evening made his crush on him grow even bigger. He wasn’t just the most beautiful boy he had ever seen, he was also funny, confident, loving and just the nicest person Lucas has ever met. During the evening they sat closer and closer together, Jens never let go of his hand and sometimes he would play with Lucas’ curls in a way that it seems he doesn’t even realize that he was doing it. Lucas loved these moments the most.  

When the party died down and it was time to leave, Jens insisted on walking Lucas home, even though it was only a fifteen minute walk.  

“You really don’t have to. I know the way.”  

“Do you though? You just moved here, I need to show you the way around the city.”  

And who was Lucas to say no to such an offer. The walk home was spend in comfortable silence. Here and there Jens pointed something out to Lucas, a great cafe at the corner or the best place for fries in the city. Lucas tried to remember these tips but it was currently hard for him to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of Jens’ hand in his.  

When they arrived at Lucas’ dorm building, Jens turned toward Lucas and just looked at him nervously.  

“I… I had a really great time tonight. God, that sounds so lame.” Lucas just laughed but before he could say anything in return Jens continued. “Okay just let me say this. I just… I just want you to know that… that it may have started as a joke, but I would really like to see you again and take you out on a real date. If that is something you would want, I mean. You don’t have to of course. I know I am not your boyfriend or anything, that was just a joke. And even if you were my boyfriend you are of course not forced to go anywhere with me and you don’t need to fee-”  

Lucas just couldn’t wait anymore. A rambling and nervous Jens is just about the most endearing thing Lucas has ever seen. He pushes himself on his tiptoes into Jens’ space and presses their lips together. His hands go up to Jens waist and stay there even when he pulls back. He looks up at Jens who still has his eyes closed and his mouth hangs open a little, as if he is waiting for another kiss.  

“I really want to see you again too.”

At that Jens opens his eyes, looks at Lucas in disbelief and awe, like he can’t believe his luck. He smiles and pull his bottom lip between his lips as he asks: “Yeah?”  

Lucas answering smile is just as dopey and wide and he can’t help but look at the way Jens bites his lips. He wants to kiss those lips again. “Yeah.” Lucas says with a definite and happy tone in his voice. He has never been more sure of anything in his life.  

“That’s really good. Not gonna lie, it would’ve really sucked for me if you didn’t want to see your boyfriend again.”  

Lucas laughed out loud and Jens looked at him in wonder. Lucas hands travelled from Jens’ waist up to his neck in an attempt to pull him in even closer. Jens came willingly and encircled Lucas’ back with his arms. This time it was Jens who closed the distance between them. He rested his forehead against Lucas’ and just breathed him in for a few seconds. The intensity of this moment threatening to overwhelm both of them, but then Jens leaned his head down to capture Lucas’ lips once more.  

As Jens’ lips glided smoothly across his own, as Jens hugged Lucas so tightly there wasn’t even an inch of space between them, as Jens let out a soft moan when Lucas bit his bottom lip gently, as Lucas was finally able to feel the soft curls of Jens’ hair between his fingers, that’s when Lucas decided that he would never want to stop kissing Jens.

[chinatea]

Jikook Sexy Alien AU Part 1

Personas are a product of @satellite-jeon​ ‘s beautiful mind.

This is WIP and still pretty drafty, and I’ll be posting new parts to tumbler as I finish them. I’m planning 4-5 parts overall. 

For my best girl @kmheart​ <3333 Thank you for loving this mess. <333

Warnings: Coarse language.

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly when his life took a dive from awesome to downright shitty.

And even if he did, he wouldn’t be telling that story any time soon ‘cause no one gives a rat’s arse about good ol’ boy Jungkook who scrubs pools for a living. 

It didn’t start that way. In high school, he was a local superstar. The golden jock. The whole fucking trope, baby. With titties of all caliber following him everywhere. Boy did love him some pussy. Dicks, too. He loved everything to do with sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

He believed himself invincible and it was only a matter of time before he mingled with the wrong crowd. Only back then, he thought of them as friends. His bros for life.

Well.

Now, he cleans pools - the only kind of gig he can scrounge up nowadays, what with a criminal record and whatnot - and trusts no bro. 

And when he’s not cleaning pools, he’s stuck at the garage being bossed around by a dirtbag who happens to be his uncle. His uncle, Sunmu, hates his guts - one of those stupid homophobic fucks who can’t mind their own fucking business. Needless to say, no love lost.

As much as Jungkook wants to punch his stupid teeth out - what’s left of them anyhow - he needs the money and it’s not like his uncle can do much more than run his smelly farthole of a mouth. Which he does. At lengths. The dude just never shuts up. Until one day, Jungkook made him shut up - even his golden-boy patience has its limits. And the dude blew up, called the police, the neighbors came a-running, the whole nine yards.

One hell of a shitshow, that night.

So now, Jungkook has taken to bringing guys to fuck in his garage instead. Totally intentional. He knows the geezer, like the sick fuck he is, had cameras installed all over for his own perverse pleasure. So Jungkook lets him enjoy it while he can.

‘Cause once the summer ends, Jungkook will burn down his fucking shack and hit the road, because he’s this close to being done with the shitfucks that are hell bent on ruining his life.

Another day. Another mindless grind.

Luckily for him, the client has vacated the house for the day, leaving their big pool in his capable hands. A much welcome break from those rich fucks being all smug and pissy and all up in his grill about every little nothing. 

Rich tits always think they know everything.

Not to mention their shitty kids running around, destroying his equipment and yapping his ear off. Or worse yet, their old haggy wives flashing their saggy tits at him - goodness gracious, does his face say he’s into wrinkled-ass pussy or something?

He thinks the fuck not.

Jungkook plops down on a deck chair and pops a can of coke open, taking a long chug. When he doesn’t have people looming over his ass, he prefers taking things slow. At his own pace. That’s what he’s all about. 

As much as he could wrap things up faster and call it a day, he’s not looking forward to trudging back to the garage. Sunmu the dipshit would be there, of course, nagging at him with this shit or that and he’d rather chill out here - the house is off-limits, locked tight, but the scenery is gorgeous. The house sits on a cliff, with the pool area overlooking the city below. 

It’s private and quiet and damn therapeutic. Like, he could just close his eyes and pretend it’s all his. That he’s not a broke-ass dude about to keel over any day now, but someone who is in control of his life. 

And he does just that. Closes his eyes and leans back, cradling the coke to his chest like one does a lover.

Mind blank of any thought.

The sky above crackles in warning, too close for comfort. And it wakes up goosebumps along his skin as he jostles awake from his little moment of inner peace. His hands flap around, knocking his coke over - it drips all over his tank top. 

Nice, Jungkook thinks. 

Of-fucking-course, it must rain today of all days. He scrambles up to his feet, ready to start hauling all the gear back into his truck when IT happens.

At first, he is not even sure what IT even is. One moment, he’s one grouchy mess, spewing dozens of profanities at no one in particular while tugging at his stained top in a retarded attempt to shake the mess off. And the next-

Something, fairly massive and spherical, materializes a few inches above the pool before plunging into water like a dead weight. Jungkook can only manage an undignified squawk before the impact wave sends him flying into the thorny shrubs framing the pool.

Mother-fucker.

When he drags his ass back from the shrubs, drenched from head to toe and covered in scratches, all he knows is that his stained shirt is the least of his problems now, because this…

What the fuck is this? he thinks, staring agog at the offender, hogging the pool now.

It looks like…something.

Maybe a futuristic car or a flying vessel of some sort. He has no clue, really. What it is or where it came from, but it’s here, right in his face, obstructing his work. Like a bastard.

He’ll have to call up a tow truck or something to pluck this sucker out, which will take forever and there go his plans for Friday night out.

Jungkook walks around the pool, inspecting the strange contraption from all sides. It’s slick and round and very, very chrome. Perhaps - a submarine. Some ultra-slick technology with masking abilities. Which apparently can fly, but not very well, otherwise, how the fuck it’d ended up stuck in his pool.

Those rich fucks and their stupid malfunctioning toys, eh. 

Jungkook sighs and kicks the empty coke can lying about. It flies off towards the pod, ricocheting right off its shiny cask with a sharp clank. And now he has even more trash to dredge up from the puddle bellow. What joy.

As he is about to roll over and wail in self-pity, the pod wakes up with a tremor, sending shallow ripples over the water. Jungkook freezes, frantically thinking over his choices - his gut reaction is to hightail the fuck out of here, because the thing is starting to show signs of life and it doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, not one bit.

He better scram and scram fast. Fuck the money and his uncle - especially his uncle - no one told him scrubbing pools involved close encounters of the third kind.

He makes to do just that but doesn’t make it too far as he bumps into someone, loosing his balance and sending them both to the ground. With a groan, he opens his eyes to stare at the unfortunate soul who had to bear the brunt of the fall on their- his. 

It’s definitely a he. A he so stunning Jungkook’s jaw goes slack and his brain radio-silent. Meanwhile, the he doesn’t waste any time making the most of their proximity as he slithers his hands around Jungkook’s neck and presses against him in a soft sweet kiss.

A supernova goes off at the back of his skull. 

It was awesome.

“Hello,” the other says, a quality to his voice that is out of this world. He must be out of this world, because how?

“I’m Jimin.”

“Hi,” Jungkook says.

A dumb grin takes over his face.

He’s tingly all over. He thinks he’s in love. 

“You’re gorgeous, Jimin-ah. Will you marry me?”

“Marry?” Jimin says tentatively as if testing the word on his tongue. His lips are pretty and full, forming a perpetual pout. It’s adorable. “I can’t marry. I need to mate.”

“Oh.” That throws Jungkook for a loop, as his heart swells with emotion. “Mate who?”

“You,” Jimin smiles. “Serendipity has chosen you as the most suitable candidate within this quadrant of our galaxy. We’re compatible.”

“Wow,” Jungkook whispers. He understands jack shit, but it does feel like serendipity, doesn't it. Just a moment ago, he was one miserable son of a bitch and now…he’s the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucking quadrant of their galaxy. 

“You do know I’m scrubbing pools for a living, right?”

He props himself up on his hands, hovering over the gorgeous Jimin and eyeing him like a candy on a stick. Jimin has pretty dainty hands. They are always in motion, feelings up Jungkook’s arm muscles, bulging all prettily just for him - this shameless little minx.

“I know everything about you,” Jimin says, his voice washing over Jungkook’s mind like a gentle summer tide.

Turns his brain all mush-mush. 

“Every second of your waking moment. Every dream, every thought you’ve had. Serendipity has shown me all of it.”

Whomever this Serendipity is, Jungkook hopes it didn’t show every single thought he had. After a certain age, they’d gotten rather repetitive and tended to fixate mostly on things below the belt - which is not the image of himself he wants to project into this world. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Jimin purrs, tapping his temple lightly.

His hands wind up in Jungkook’s hair, massaging the scalp and down his neck. His touches are flitting, almost shy and it kindles longing in Jungkook like never before. It tramples all of the questions budding in his head. Melting reason away. Before he knows they’re kissing again and it plays out like a dream. 

He’s doing something, but he’s not really in control. It feels good. Peaceful, he’s in a safe place. Jimin’s touches are weightless and tender as he maps out his body with the very tips of his fingers. 

Like he can reach everywhere - can touch anywhere.

The moment something prods his mind, gentle and soothing - akin to a light breeze caressing the leaves - Jungkook shivers. Falls under. A feeling like no other. Floating, like a little air bubble. 

It’s gone as sudden as it came and Jungkook finds himself yearning.

“We can’t do it here,” Jimin says as they both move upright in sync. He grabs Jungkook’s hand. “Let’s go. Serendipity will have to stay here for now.”

“Serendipity?” Jungkook asks, shaking off the drowsiness as his brain slowly kicks back into gear. “You mean that pod thing?”

“Don’t call her ‘a thing’,” Jimin chides. “She has feelings. Quite a temper, too.”

“Damn, a she-pod with feelings”.

They’re standing now with Jimin plastered against his chest and nuzzling his mighty pec. Not awkward at all. 

“She’s a ship. The most intelligent ship in the whole galaxy. Completely self-aware,” Jimin says, exploring the vastness of Jungkook’s chest with his curious palms now. Jungkook starts to notice a certain obsession here of a tactile nature, but can’t find it in himself to complain. “Be kind to her.”

“I am kind,” Jungkook says. “I’m like...wait, who are you?”

“I’m Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nods. “But what kind of Jimin are you? Where did you come from? You’re not with the Joneses here, are you?”

With the burden of rational thinking, Jungkook slumps into a realization that he has questions. And he must ask them. 

“No, I’m from space,” Jimin says like it’s not big deal. “We need to go,” he commands, taking charge and dragging Jungkook along.

“Space? Wow,” Jungkook says. “That’s, ah, nice, I guess. Never been myself, what with the radiation and minus fuck-ton degrees, you know. Transportation kinda sucks, too. I don’t know if you’re aware but we’re kinda still in the stone age or whatever, but, ehm...remember when I was lying on top of you, with our private parts perfectly aligned? That was nice too, wanna, ehm, do that again?”

“Here is not safe,” Jimin says and at least, it’s not a no. “Serendipity can hide herself well enough, but it’s a matter of time before he tracks me down. And if that happens, I don’t want him to track me down right next to her.”

“Who’s he?” 

“Just a man who never gives up what’s his.”

“You mean, like, ex-boyfriend?” Jungkook asks, swallowing down an annoying spike of jealousy. “Do you even have boyfriends in space?”

“I meant Serendipity, not me,” Jimin says. “And yes, we do have boyfriends up there in space. You don’t have to worry though, he’s been mated for the past five hundred years. He’s that boring.”

Jungkook lets out a low whistle.

“If his mate looks anything like you, that’s understandable.”

[morethanaprincess-a]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO / Depends. I think fans usually love Sonia or hate her.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / In some aspects.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO /

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL / Verse-dependent. Mostly good, unless Despair-verse or post-Neo World Program/post-SDR2 for canon verses or Talentswap!AU for my Ultimate Mafia Boss AU. Sonia's reputation is pretty terrible in these.

How strictly do you follow canon?  

I do the best I can, considering that for most Danganronpa characters, there's limited information unless they're a protagonist. Considering DR, depending on the timeline of Sonia's class, takes place in various settings, realities, and states of mind, it can be a challenge to keep everything consistent. While I don't do a lot of threads that take place strictly in the SDR2-verse, where I do try to keep events canon to how they unfold in the game and as precisely as Sonia is presented as I can, other verses tend to be a bit more canon-divergent in order to fill in character building gaps that the game and anime don't really offer. The biggest change I tend to do is that unless I'm writing a thread of Sonia's arrival or first year at Hope's Peak or during the Neo World Program of SDR2, I don't tend to write many of her slang or word mix-ups. While Sonia reads and writes her 30+ languages better than she speaks them, I still believe she picks up on foreign languages easily and learns from her mistakes. She's a smart person, considering all of her talents mentioned in the SDR2 game alone. I also tend to disregard some of Hajime's free-time events with Sonia, particularly in terms of the hero legend and how she would allow the fabled hero to immediately marry and rule with her. My Sonia, for the most part, is a self-rescuing princess (and has a tendency to want to rescue everyone else too!).

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  

Is your muse looking for a friend and/or significant other who's just fascinated by everything they do and will support them no matter what? Someone who doesn't care about where you come from, your family, your looks, your socio-economic status but only who you are? Someone generous, kind, gentle, optimistic, smart, well-read, well-mannered, and will always be your muse's biggest cheerleader? Then your muse will definitely want to meet Sonia Nevermind, Hope's Peak Academy's Ultimate Princess and occult and serial killer-lover extraordinaire. She's poised to inherit a European country that thrives under absolute monarchy, a ridiculous amount of wealth and prestige, her own military, and more homes and assets than one person, and one family, really need. But get her talking about her favorite books/movies/TV shows, particularly horror and romantic dramas, and she'll be ecstatic. She loves exploring haunted locales, questioning the motives and methods of serial killers (real and fictional! I hope you've seen Friday the 13th, Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, etc. Is your muse Team Freddy or Team Jason?), and experiencing a 'normal' lifestyle unbefitting of a royal. Novoselic has no amusement parks, so your muse can really wow Sonia by introducing her to her first roller coaster! While she can't actually participate in Freemasonry or murdering people (Despair and Talentswap verses aside!) due to her title, she's still quite intrigued by it all. And like any proper Novosonian, she adores her chocolate and her wine. She's got a massive sweet tooth, perfect for her usual sweet and kind demeanor.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?)

She's not terribly edgy or sarcastic in most of her verses. It's very easy for Sonia to get duped by someone, as she's quick to consider people friends unless otherwise shown differently. She's very poised and polite due to her upbringing and doesn't often act on every impulse she has or speak her mind, especially if her opinion is divisive or negative, unless she trusts your muse. It's easy for her to accept friends into her life and far more difficult to accept romantic love, as she's frequently facing people who love her for her looks, title, and apparent purity, which frustrates her. She doesn't want to be put on a pedestal, she simply wants to be treated normally. She also doesn't get into too many fights, especially if she's been slighted. This is not a muse who's going to throw a punch, but she's excellent with firearms of all sorts. Pistols? Check. Rifles? Mastered them. Rocket launcher? Her favorite! And of course, she learned how to drive a tank before she could drive a car. If you're looking for a meek and shy muse to write with, Sonia's not that type. She's reserved in some things, but if your muse is really out of line? She'll call them out on it. She also has a tendency to want to lead in everything (it's a struggle for her to give up control, she can't help it!) and is a workaholic unless your muse distracts her.

Sonia has a fair amount of Rich People Problems. If that doesn't interest you or your muse, you may not enjoy interacting with her. But she remains as humble as she can about it all. She's terrible at putting herself first and admitting feelings for anyone, automatically assuming the person she cares for wouldn't want to be close to her, platonically or romantically, because of how complicated her life is as a future monarch. There's a lot of press, official appearances, and times she has to be a Princess before a person. She never wants to feel like a burden to your muse, which can sometimes come off as passive. But in life or death situations? Her bravery comes through.

And let's not go into how her Despair verse could be potentially triggering to some muses and/or muns. Sonia's absolutely disgusting when in Despair: lots of gore, lots of torture, lots of death, lots of blood, and a fair amount of sex with bad intentions. She's a gross human being (and has to deal with all of that in a post-Neo World Program verse!).

What inspired you to rp your muse?  

I've been roleplaying for a pretty long time (not necessarily all on tumblr, but for awhile. I'm old!), and I've played action/fighting muses, know-it-all/brainy/witty muses, and muses who border on the mean girl trope with a heart of gold. But I've never really played a sincerely kind and good person. I tend to prefer writing female characters (I'm just more comfortable writing women than men most of the time!) and I've always had an interest in royalty and European history since I was a child. I played and watched Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc originally and while I found it fun, it didn't really hold my attention for long. It took 5-6 years or so for me to try out SDR2, and upon getting introduced to Sonia it was just a perfect fit. I love how kind and open-minded she is, how much she believes in the best of everyone, and how her interests in the occult, serial killers, anime, and dramas are a stark contrast to her royal upbringing. So many royal characters are complete snobs with no interest in commoners, which was never the sort of muse I wanted to write. But I loved the idea of Sonia's fish out of water situation of being the only foreigner in her class (and likely most of the school), who's just so happy to be there even though she gets various customs wrong and is just plain weird due to her personal interests. Additionally, I have a strong interest in horror, the occult, and serial killers myself, so it's been fun incorporating my thoughts on what Sonia would like outside of what the game and anime offered.

What keeps your inspiration going?  

This might be corny, but it's Sonia's innate curiosity about the world and everyone in it. Admittedly, I'm not terribly up to date on current and popular anime (and I've only played DRV3 once, so I don't know those muses as well, and I never completed that game's Talent Development Plan), so it's hard when I don't always know the franchise of the other muse Sonia's interacting with, but she's still so fascinated about others and is inclined to ask questions and take on new experiences. But when I'm feeling stuck on inspiration, I'm returning to books, movies, and TV shows. For Sonia specifically, I watch and read a lot of historical and royal-focused dramas, as well as horror and classic literature. I also follow blogs featuring royal history and modern royal coverage (though when it turns too gossipy, I tend to cringe!) for plot ideas. 

Still, it's the hardest for me to interact with other muses whose muns automatically assume I'm familiar with their fandom, especially when it's popular. I tend to do a fair amount of apologizing in that case, as most of my favorite anime are considered old or classic at this point. 

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO. 

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO.  

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO / Most of the time!

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  

Not terribly. In general, if someone doesn't like my portrayal, I question why they're following me (especially if we aren't writing together). I'm much more the type to respect someone's space if they decide to unfollow and/or softblock than want criticism of my portrayal. Of course, it's different if I'm writing with someone for awhile and we have multiple threads and character development, I'm a little more open to criticism but likely won't change my portrayal based on it. 

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?

I do! In general though, I tend to prioritize threads and IC asks over OOC, starting with what I've got muse to write with first. I have anon turned off and so I don't really get a lot of random questions about my muse anymore unless I've posted a meme asking for muse headcanons, but when I do get them, I try to answer them to the best of my ability.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?

Not really. It's okay to disagree with my headcanon, that's totally valid! But if it gets to the point where I'm being told how to write my muse, I get annoyed. When I write with a mun, I accept their headcanons in our threads, no questions asked. I prefer the same courtesy with my muse and their headcanons too.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  

Doesn't really matter to me. My general assumption is, is if someone disagrees with my portrayal, they likely won't write with me, follow me, or accept ask meme submissions from me. 

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  

We probably aren't roleplaying together. They likely either don't want to write with a Sonia or my version of her, and that's ok! What isn't ok is gossip and anon hate. I've turned off anon for this reason and won't turn it back on unless I need to (for example, a mutual I trust wants to send something on anon IC). It's a significant weight off my shoulders, not dealing with OOC anon rudeness.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?

Sure! No one's perfect. The only one that bothers me is different spelling for US English and UK/AUS/CAN English. I'm from the US and it's just easier to write in that, so I don't get anything wrong.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?  

I like to think so! I'm pretty easygoing and understanding of things like hiatuses, no writing inspo, etc, as long as I'm told that's what it is. Of course, I have my preferences for writing style (I don't do much one-liners or crack RP, just not my thing. I write a lot and try to avoid purple prose as much as I can!), but otherwise I like to plot, to wing it, coming up with new AUs and ships, etc. I also like chatting fandoms and such OOC as well! Admittedly I'm not great when it comes to mental health struggles, as I go through them myself and while I'm pretty high-functioning, RP and tumblr is my escape from my career and horrible stuff IRL, keeping me grounded and such. I like roleplaying, chatting fandoms and fun things, and just having a good time over here and on discord.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by: @monsieur-de-paris​ (Thank you!)

Tagging: Since this is a very long meme, whoever wants to do it. 

[presidentrhodes]

Spider-Man Far From Home spoilers

I just finished watching it and, honestly, I’d say it was a pretty good way to bid farewell to the first three phases of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. 

Spoilers under the cut. This is pretty long and rambly. 

1. Midtown high is supposed to be a school for geniuses but these little shits use comic sans in tribute videos and steal watermarked Getty Images pictures to put in them. I loved it, particularly with the song choice and the fact that Vision’s picture was from the Civil War airport standoff in Leipzig — that means only Peter could’ve provided it and no one bothered to ask how he got it. 

2. Tom Holland really wasn’t kidding when he said the film was a love letter to RDJ/Tony Stark. He was everywhere, his sacrifice was being recognised around the world: they even had a documentary on him, which was available in the in-flight entertainment, plus, there were murals and photographs in Venice and Prague. He was very much present throughout the film. 

3. EDITH. In a nutshell, it’s an augmented reality-enabled AI that controls a tactical and defensive system Tony built to protect Earth in the aftermath of his demise. Think Ultron’s perfect self minus the winning personality — EDITH controls a bunch of massive Stark Industries satellites in orbit that are equipped with thousands of weaponised drones. It can remotely target individual threats and take them out with simple voice commands. It also is able to connect to any network in the vicinity, so, Peter was able to see what his classmates were doing on their devices. 

I’ve already seen so many angry posts comparing EDITH to Project Insight without taking into account a) intent; and b) the reality of the MCU. Tony didn’t build EDITH for the same reason Zola built Project Insight. The former was meant to be a last or first line of defence, controlled by an Avenger Tony personally trusted. The latter was a means to subjugate the world population to Hydra’s will. 

All tech in the MCU is dangerous when it falls into the wrong hands — that’s why they’re called the wrong hands and why Steve once said the safest hands are their own. The supersoldier serum gave us Steve Rogers; it also gave us the Winter Soldiers, a bunch of dangerous, invincible highly-trained assassins. Pym particles gave us Ant-Man and the Wasp as well as time travel; it also gave us Yellowjacket, who immediately wanted to weaponise the tech. The Iron Man suit gave us Iron Man; but also gave us Iron Monger, who wanted to build an army of metal soldiers. Wakanda’s highly-advanced weapon systems were able to withstand a full-scale invasion from the Outriders, but those same weapons almost started a global war in Killmonger’s hands. Project Insight and Ultron showed us the bad side of AI; JARVIS, Vision, FRIDAY, Karen and EDITH, to an extent, showed us the good side of AI.

The point is, technology in the wrong hands will always be a bad thing yet people only seem to gripe about Stark tech while ignoring every other piece of advanced technology we’ve seen weaponized or misused. I wonder why. Since the MCU canonically isn’t made up of one big Luddite colony, there’ll always be new technology being developed and bad guys finding ways to abuse them. 

Just look at the holographic tech Mysterio designed while at Stark Industries. Even before he was fired, his ambitions were grander and afterwards, he weaponized it and willingly sent people to their dooms so that he could play a hero. When 16-year-old Peter Parker, MJ and Ned — literal children — found out the truth and Mysterio risked being exposed as a fraud, he actively tried to kill them. Mysterio beat the shit out of Peter and threw him in front of an incoming high-speed train, so, no, I don’t care if Tony Stark was mean to him by firing him, he was a piece of shit who tried repeatedly to kill a kid. 

Tony, meanwhile, spent $600+ million on the holographic tech to design B.A.R.F — a technology with some really promising applications in the MedTech sector to help people overcome their PTSD and trauma. That’s the fucking difference between a superhero and a supervillain.

Sure, EDITH also has massive privacy concerns. That’s on Tony, but after the Decimation, I think people have bigger problems to worry about than whether Peter Parker is snooping on their text messages. Ultimately, EDITH offers Peter, and whoever else is going to fill up the Avengers roster in the future, a plan B to strike the bad guys from a safe distance. I

4. Tony left Peter in charge of EDITH. Not the Avengers, not SHIELD, and definitely not the US Department of Defense — a fact that actually pissed off Mysterio. Tony left it in Peter’s hands because he knew Spider-Man took the meaning of responsibility far more seriously than he ever did. All those years ago, Peter told him if one could do the things he could, and they didn’t, and then the bad things happened, they happened because of them. And, honestly, if anyone deserves to have control over such a potentially dangerous piece of tech that can help in future battles, then it’s Peter — even more so than Tony. 

5. Again, Peter is 16 in this film and still coping with loss and trauma. He willingly gave controls of EDITH to Quentin because Mysterio had everyone fooled, including Nick Fury/Talos — they’re both highly experienced soldiers. Fooling them wouldn’t have been easy and Mysterio’s plan was extremely well thought-out and perfectly executed. Peter redeem himself in the end and takes back control of EDITH. 

6. Peter and MJ were super adorable. Spider-Man is the only franchise apart from Iron Man, where the secondary lead characters are allowed to grow without it all being about the main hero. MJ is allowed to explore her feelings for Peter and measure them against Brad’s affection. Ned is allowed to also grow in his character and be more than Spider-Man’s best friend/guy in a chair. 

7. Happy and May were also adorable.

8. Happy ruined a perfectly good bed of tulips just to rescue May’s nephew and give him the TLC/pep talk he needed after, again, Beck pushed Peter in front of a high-speed train that would’ve killed an ordinary person. 

9. Peter confusing ACDC with Led Zeppelin is the most Gen Z thing ever. Happy watched Peter design his own suit and it reminded him of the times he spent watching Tony tinker in his lab. You could feel Tony’s absence pretty viscerally in that scene on the jet. 

10. Peter tingle. Lol. 

11. Happy’s words about Tony were beautiful. He said something along the lines of, “Tony was my best friend. He second-guessed everything he did. He was a mess. But the one thing he didn’t second-guess was picking you.” That really furthered the Iron Dad Spider Son narrative.

12. Iron Zombie was the w o r s t thing ever. Again, Beck emotionally manipulated 16-year-old Peter Parker and said if Peter was any good, his mentor would still be alive just as he projected an illusion of a decaying Iron Man corpse attacking him. To give you a sense of how manipulative he really is, he told his guy in the chair that Peter’s blood will be on his hands because he had failed to report a missing drone part that MJ had discovered in Prague. 

13. Peter finally understanding that he doesn’t have to be the next Tony Stark or Iron Man. He just needs to be the next Spider-Man and Peter Parker. 

14. Peter choosing to safeguard EDITH. 

15. J. Jonah Jameson and J.K. Simmons. That is all. He’s the MCU equivalent of Alex Jones and I love him so much. I wonder if this means we’ll see Doctor Strange offer Peter his help to erase everyone’s memories about the reveal of his secret identity. 

16. Every Nick Fury scene automatically becomes 2000x funnier when you realize it’s Talos posing as Fury and 90% of the time, he has no idea what the fuck is going on and he’s just winging it as he goes along. Also, he was furious that he and his wife, as members of a shapeshifting species, were unable to detect Mysterio’s ruse. 

17. Mysterio was a douchebag. Apart from trying to kill actual kids because he feared they might expose him, he did nothing worthy of a hero. He was jealous and angry about Tony, and he wanted to usurp Iron Man without doing any of the hard work. He willingly put people in danger, was prepared to sacrifice people to make his actions seem more realistic and wanted to take credit for saving the day and preventing an Avengers-level catastrophe. I’ve already seen reviewers trying to sympathise with Mysterio, and his persistent attempts to kill a 16-year-old kid because Tony was apparently mean to him. 

18. And, no, Tony did not steal B.A.R.F tech from Mysterio as some review sites are claiming. The narrative is unreliable at best because we hear only Quentin’s point of view — the same Quentin who had been using his holographic tech to deceive people and put them in harm’s way because he wanted to shake the Queen’s hands or some misguided bullshit. He deserved to fired. Plus, he was a Stark Industries employee. Tech companies almost always own the patent to whatever tech you design or invent for them when you’re on their payroll. It’s how corporations work.

19. Tony quoted Henry IV to Fury when he told him to give EDITH to Peter and said Spidey wouldn’t get the reference (Heavy is the head that wears the crown) because it’s not Star Wars. It was a nice, poignant moment — made funnier when you realize that’s Talos in disguise, which means at some point, Fury had to have a conversation with him about Shakespeare and Star Wars. Someone pls write the fic. 

20. The most important thing is that this film actually tried to address the Decimation. Endgame pretended to gloss over it to give Gay Joe Russo his 15 minutes of fame. But this film actually started with May and Peter organizing an event to help the displaced. Pepper sent a huge check and apologized for not being able to make it in person. :( 

20a. I love Jake Gyllenhaal. I had expected Quentin to be a dramatic thot but he really brought a lot of depth to the character. 

Overall, I liked the film a lot more than I had anticipated. Some people are going to scrutinize this film to death to prove Tony was the ultimate MCU villain and, hey, if that’s the hill they choose to die on, I don’t really care. After 11 years and 23 films later, if they still think that Tony was the real villain all along, then nothing we say or Marvel does, will change their mind. 

Personally, I thought this film was a good send off to Tony, now that they’ve firmly established that Peter Parker/Spider-Man is going to be the new face of the MCU and will carry with him the Iron Man legacy. He wasn’t always right and a lot of his choices tended to backfire but, in the end, his motivations were good and he still went out as the man who saved the world. He, unlike Beck, or Vulture before him, never tried to kill a child, not even when he brought him to a parking lot brawl among friends. 

Now, if only Marvel can just leave Tony’s legacy alone and let Peter, and the rest of the MCU, thrive on its own instead of retconning established Iron Man lore to fit new narratives. 

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 2

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo, Even, and Aeleus settle into their new home in Twilight Town.

Notes:  In flashbacks prior to Ienzo's transition, "_____" denotes use of his deadname.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo tried to stay awake, but the long drive and his own exhaustion had him nodding in and out. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt safe like this, thanks to Aeleus.

"Get some rest, child," Aeleus said. "It's alright."

Even was on his phone, the glow bright against his pale face. "I reached out to the safe house. We should be set."

"That's good."

Ienzo slipped under.

In this dream, the ground underneath him was damp with dew. The magic doe, bright and glittering, danced for him, making him laugh. He'd been small, small enough that things were still good. He was still home.

"_____, child," Ansem said. He was still in his suit, doubtless having sought him after the endless parliament meetings. "Your creatures just get prettier and prettier."

"Merlin says my magic is almost as powerful as his." Smug.

Ansem chuckled. "It will be, child. Such is your bloodline."

"But practicing Protect is so boring. I want to do laser swords."

Ansem ruffled his hair. "And you'll get there, but first you need to learn the basics--which is control. I'm told you made quite a mess in Even's lab during your lesson."

His face burned. "It was an accident."

"I know. But all the more reason to take control over this part of yourself. Part of being a good ruler is self-restraint. And you want to be a good queen, don't you, _____?"

"...Yes, father." He dropped his eyes.

"Well. No need to be so serious. Why don't we get some ice cream?"

"...Even says you give me too much ice cream."

"I'd be a terrible parent if I did not occasionally spoil my child."

Ienzo woke slowly, blinking the wetness out of his eyes. It was light out now; he'd slept hard.

Father.

He tried not to think about him, because it always hurt. He hadn't seen him in years, not since--

"Alright, Ienzo?" Aeleus asked. "We should be there soon."

"Where are we going?" Ienzo asked. "Even never told me what plan B entailed."

At his name, the man jerked awake. "I'd just drifted off," he muttered. "We're headed towards the coast. Twilight Town. Hopefully we can settle there and plan next steps."

Ienzo frowned. The city was one of the biggest, other than the capitol. "Easier to blend in in a bigger city?"

"Precisely," Even said, with a sigh. "There's still a university there."

"We can just… live?" Ienzo was more than a little skeptical. "After so much running?"

"The city government is neutral towards the monarchy at the moment, and historically were loyalists. Better to be… on this sort of ground, while the resistance gathers itself."

"No need for you to be miserable," Aeleus added. "So long as you're cautious."

“But… once they do gather themselves?” Ienzo asked. He raised an eyebrow. “What then?” His own knowledge of the resistance was shadowy, vague--a network of survivors, monarchists and loyalists, and just other people who wanted to be rid of Xehanort’s stranglehold, who had lost people to his darkness.

“Then we will figure out what to do,” Even said tiredly. His eyes were bloodshot. “It’s imperative we keep you alive until then. That is to say…”

“Be prepared to keep moving?” Ienzo nodded. “Right.” He watched the city wash in around them, the protective wards around the city making the light rosy, like a sunset. Their contact had assured them that border control would allow Ienzo through, so long as they went to the right window.

Ienzo felt his heart beating harder now, and he pulled his hat a little tighter over his forehead. These moments were always tense, uncomfortable; what if this person had been caught? Or was forced to go to a different post? Or was simply ill? Ienzo held his breath, and he was fairly sure Even did as well, if the grip on his hand meant anything.

Aeleus rolled down the window.

“Passport, please,” the voice said boredly, and Ienzo gave another small start; it took all his effort to keep his face neutral, disinterested, in case there were prying eyes. The guard, too, noticing Aeleus, tensed his jaw, but his eyes were shimmering. Even took a quick breath. Aeleus handed over their forged papers. “...Roll down the back window. Just need to see your faces.” His deep voice remained impassive. Ienzo swallowed down the joy, the relief, to see the familiar violet eyes, the tangle of thick black braids.

Dilan, he thought desperately. So he was alive too, and not another casualty for the sake of his protection.

The man locked eyes for Ienzo; for a moment there was confusion, and then a sort of recognition, a pride , almost. He nodded once. “I see all is in order,” he added in the same bored tone. “Enjoy your visit.”

They slipped through the barrier without trouble. Ienzo felt it frisk him and winced; it was like receiving a mild static shock. Even gasped out a breath. “Gods,” he whispered. “Gods. I hadn’t let myself think about him.”

“It seems Ansem really pulled out all the stops,” Aeleus added. “Keeping us safe… that we might one day be together again.”

Then why couldn’t he be here with me , Ienzo thought, though of course he knew why. If both the king and the heir were in the same room… all the easier to dispose of them.

Twilight Town smelled like salt. Salt, and the sea. “The marine biology program here is apparently very robust,” Even said. His voice wavered just the slightest, with emotion, Ienzo suspected. “You might consider it.”

“...Biology was never my favorite.” Even in hiding Even insisted on continuing his education; Ienzo suspected the man didn’t want to let his own genius go to waste. The guilt was always there; prior to all this, Even had been surgeon general, and a preeminent researcher in his field. Now he was a fugitive, and it was all Ienzo’s fault-- “Besides, I have a lot of catching up to do.”

Even laughed a little. “A lot of those general education classes will be a breeze, Ienzo. I think you’ll do fine.”

How odd, to just go to college , to think about having a career. Would he ever? Would he not just be king? Or be dead? Would there ever be life after Xehanort? After the darkness?

Aeleus pulled up to an unassuming townhouse in a quiet, residential part of town. How bizarre, for it to be midmorning and for it to seem like twilight. It was quite easy on the eyes. Ienzo took in the neatly mowed lawn, the false stone front. His legs felt like jelly as he got out of the car. They only had one neighbor quite a few yards away; the next house was empty, for sale. All three looked almost exactly the same. “Cookie cutter,” he muttered.

“The point, Ienzo,” Aeleus said. “Let’s get our things.”

The house had been pre-furnished; everything seemed a little old, a little broken in. The walls were a pale blue on the lower floor, making the hardwood flooring seem all the darker. Even set his bag down in the kitchen. “I do so despise the modern white-on-white-on-white,” he said.

It was because it was too like his lab. Too much of a reminder. Ienzo bit his lip. “I do as well. Quite lazy. But an improvement on where we came from.”

“Yes, at least things here smell clean.” He poked around in the cupboards, in drawers. “Everything seems to be in order.”

“So quickly?”

Aeleus set a suitcase by the stairs. “For you, Ienzo, there are always set plans in place.”

“All these moving pieces I’m never allowed to see,” he said darkly. “I’m not a child.”

Even scowled. “No, but gods forbid you get captured and interrogated.”

“As if I’d ever say anything to anyone.”

His green eyes glinted. “You say that now.” He took off his glasses, heavy and dark-rimmed. “Besides, Ienzo. I’m sure we’d all rather you speak if it meant you could keep your life.”

Ienzo slid off his dirty hat. “Was that all from the car, Aeleus?”

“...Quite.”

Ienzo approached him slowly. “Are you… staying with us, then?”

A nod. “For the time being. Even has done well, protecting you, but if we are to be out in the open…”

“I could use a guard.” He tried to bite down on the emotion he felt. “Well. I’m glad. Even is horrid company.”

“Ungrateful brat,” Even called from in the kitchen, but without venom.

“Come here. I never did get to see you in the light.”

Ienzo did so.

“You got so tall,” Aeleus murmured, setting his hand on Ienzo’s shoulder.

“Well. Small compared to the two of you.”

“We’ve missed so much time.” He exhaled heavily. “I’d hoped your childhood would be better than--”

“We are all here, healthy, and alive,” Ienzo said. “I should take that and be grateful.”

“...Indeed.” Aeleus drew him into an embrace. He smelled so the same, and for a moment Ienzo couldn’t do anything but drink it in. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed comfort.

“...Both of you so emotional,” Even added, coming into the room. Then, “It would be good to have the presence of old friends.”

Aeleus gently let Ienzo go. “Even. I never did imagine you with long hair.”

“Somewhere my first chemistry professor is crying,” Even said, handling a piece of it. “Best to be somewhat unrecognizable.” He smiled a little. He reached to take Aeleus’s hand, and the two embraced. “I do hope you’ll tell us what it is you’ve been up to.”

“And I shall--once we’ve all gotten some rest. I’m sure you haven’t slept a whit more than you had to since this was all in motion.”

“...Quite,” Even admitted. “Yes, it is necessary.”

“You two go on, then.”

Ienzo carried his things upstairs. It was left unclear which of the bedrooms were to be his, so he took the one facing the small yard. It did feel so good to get out of that drab apartment, to see greenery again. To breathe. There was nothing here on the walls, a simple double bed, a writing desk, a dresser and an empty bookshelf. He unpacked--not that it took long--and perched on the mattress.

He would never feel settled, he guessed.

---

After a shower and a pathetic attempt at a nap, Ienzo went back downstairs to see if anything had been left to eat.

“I made some pasta,” Aeleus said, startling him. He was sitting at the small kitchen table, reading a book. “It’s in the fridge.”

“...Thank you.” He gathered some and heated it, got water. Ienzo realized he was kind of procrastinating. He joined Aeleus.

“Even is asleep, then?”

“Yes.”

“At some point today or tomorrow we’ll need groceries.” He set the book aside. “How… are you, Ienzo?”

“...A loaded question. I could ask the same.”

“Quite.” Aeleus cleared his throat. “It has been… much too long. You’re grown now. I can barely believe it.”

“Trust me, under Even’s watchful eye I certainly don’t feel it.”

Aeleus barely smiled. “It was his idea, to allow you to come here. Now here, here, but--”

“...Somewhere safe… relatively speaking,” Ienzo finished.

“I assume you barely feel like you hit the ground.”

Ienzo picked at his bowl. He wanted spices, cheese, but he knew Aeleus had done his best with what had been left. “A month here, a month there. Not so many are as well-traveled.”

Aeleus chuckled.

“But… you are right. He was always… overcautious about moving on. I used to… resent it, especially if I made some playmate or another. But I know now he was trying to keep me from prying eyes, and depending on the territory, there were many.” He kept his eyes on the wood-grain. “You and he have sacrificed so much for me--”

“Hush, child,” Aeleus said. “When we took our posts under Ansem, we knew full well what could possibly happen.”

“Twelve years in hiding?”

“You sacrificed it too.”

Ienzo exhaled. “What of you, then?”

Aeleus leaned back in the wooden chair. “I too, have… wandered,” he began, carefully. “As soon as we were… split up, I immediately sought to ingratiate myself with the resistance. It took time, to find someone trustworthy, who was not merely pretending to be a part of it. I worked with them to scout cities, gauge the threat of darkness. Mostly… I tried to find Ansem. I tried to find you . But Even covered his tracks well. I… have seen this land begin to fall to darkness. The whole west coast is all but lost to lawlessness.”

Ienzo exhaled.

“We sought to get rid of whoever allied themselves with Xehanort, but it became clear it was a losing battle. People buy his message, and then the darkness twists their minds.”

“There has to be something we can do more immediately,” Ienzo said. “There has to--”

“Your duty now is to remain alive,” Aeleus said.

“But I can never be a decent ruler if I let my subjects suffer for my life--”

“You can’t be a decent ruler if you’re dead,” Aeleus leveled.

“I’ve done enough waiting. Let me be a part of this, Aeleus. Let me--” But the man’s face had lost all expression.

“The time is not yet right,” Aeleus said softly.

“When will it be, then? How much has to be lost?”

“The decision is not up to me.”

“Then who? My father?” Ienzo hadn’t meant for their first real conversation in years to be an argument.

Aeleus said nothing.

Ienzo frowned. “I should go place some wards around the property line,” he said. “At least that is something I can do.”

[basicsofislam]

ISLAM 101: Muslim Beliefs: Knowledge of God Almighty: Nature: Cause or Effect? Part 4

THE THIRD IMPOSSIBILITY

The following two comparisons, which are mentioned in some other parts of the Risale-i Nur, explain this impossibility:

THE FIRST COMPARISON:

A wild, uneducated man enters a palace which has been built in a vast desert and decorated with all the fruits of civilization. Having examined all the thousands of marvelous, artistically made objects, as there is no one in the palace and due to his ignorance and lack of sufficient intelligence, he thinks that one of the objects in the palace must have made the palace with whatever there is in it. But whichever object he examines, he cannot convince even his crude and uneducated intellect that that object has built the palace.

Later, he finds a notebook in which there is written the detailed plan of the palace, a list of its contents, and the rules of its management. It is also impossible for the notebook, which has no hands, eyes, or tools, to have built and decorated the palace. However, having not encountered anything visible to which he can attribute the existence of the palace, and since in comparison with the other objects the notebook, which contains the rules of the palace’s construction, decoration, and management, seems to be more able to explain its existence, the man feels obliged to say, “It is this notebook which designed and built the palace, and decorated it with all those objects, which it had made and set in this palace.” Is this not sheer stupidity and nonsense?

As in this comparison, a naturalist who denies God enters this palace of the universe, which is infinitely more well-ordered and more perfect than the palace in the above-mentioned comparison, and which is decorated with miracles of Wisdom throughout. Not thinking that it is the work of the Necessarily Existent Being’s Art, Who is beyond the sphere of contingency, and evading that thought, he focuses on what they wrongly call “nature.” Nature is, in fact, a board of Divine Destiny or Determining in the sphere of contingency. Divine Destiny or Determining uses it for inscribing and erasing Its judgments. From another perspective, nature is an ever-changing notebook of the titles or laws of the Divine Power’s regular acts, and an index of the works of His Art as the Lord of the worlds. However, the naturalist who enters the palace of the universe says, “All these things require a cause for their existence. There is nothing visible that is more apt than this ‘notebook’ to attribute it to. Even though it is completely unreasonable to accept this blind, unconscious, ignorant, and powerless ‘notebook’ as the creator of the palace of the universe, which clearly requires an infinite knowledge and power for its existence, since I do not admit the existence of the Eternal Maker, I had better say that this ‘notebook’ has made this palace.” To which we reply:

O foolish one! Lift your head out of the swamp of naturalism, and turn round! You will see the Maker of Majesty, to Whom all things, from atoms to galaxies, testify, each with its own tongue, and at Whom they point, each with its own finger. Behold the manifestation of the Eternal Designer, Who has made that palace and written its program in that “notebook”! Lend an ear to His Book—the Qur’an—and be saved from your nonsensical words!

THE SECOND COMPARISON:

An extremely rough, uneducated man enters a magnificent barracks. He watches the disciplined actions of a marvelously ordered army carrying out its drill. A regiment, a battalion, and an army corps sit down, stand up, march, and take up and put down arms as though they were a single private. Since his crude mind cannot understand this and thus denies that the army is working under the orders of a commander acting according to the laws of the state, he imagines that all the soldiers are tied to one another with strings. He thinks what a wonderful string this must be and is astonished.

Later, on Friday, he goes and enters a magnificent mosque, for example Ayasofya (Haghia Sophia). He observes that the congregation of Muslims performing the Friday congregational Prayer rises, bows, prostrates, and sits at the voice of one man. Since he does not know the Shari‘a, which is the collection of sacred Divine laws and principles that guide the lives and worship of Muslims, he imagines that the members of the congregation are bound to one another with strings which control them and make them move like puppets. With this most ridiculous idea in his mind, he leaves the mosque. Like this comparison, a naturalist denier of God enters this world, which is, in one respect , a splendid barracks of the Sovereign of eternity for His numerous hosts, and, in another respect , a well-ordered mosque of the Eternal, All-Worshipped One for His servants. He fancies that the laws which the Eternal Sovereign’s Wisdom has established for the order and operation of the universe—the laws which have only nominal existence and are in fact the titles of His acts in the administration of the universe— have a physical existence and have enough knowledge and power to govern the entire universe. Instead of attributing these to the Divine Power, he attributes the existence and operation of the universe to these laws of nominal existence which he calls “nature”—and which have no power, knowledge, wisdom, consciousness, and will—and to what he calls “natural forces,” which are in truth a manifestation of Divine Power. He regards these forces as an independent power that is able to direct the universe. This is a thousand times greater abasing ignorance than the ignorance of the man in the above-mentioned comparison.

In short, if the thing which naturalists call “nature” has an external reality, it can, at the very most, be a work of art, not an artist; it can be a design, not a designer; a set of decrees, not an issuer of decrees; a set of the laws of the creation and operation of the universe, not a lawgiver; a created veil before God’s Dignity, not a creator; something originated according to God’s way of acting, not an originator; only a law, not an independent, conscious power or a powerful one; and a set of lines to inscribe on, not a source or origin or an author.

To conclude, since things and beings exist and, as stated in the introduction of this treatise, there can be no other way to explain their existence than the four mentioned above, and since the first three of these ways have been proven to be invalid because of the impossibilities elucidated, then necessarily and self-evidently, the fourth way is clearly the only valid way. It is the way of Divine Existence and Unity. It is indicated by the verse quoted at the beginning, Can there be any doubt about God, the Originator of the heavens and the earth? ( 14: 10), which clearly and undoubtedly states that there can be no doubt about the Existence or Unity of God, and that everything issues directly from His Hand of Power, and the heavens and the earth are under His Grasp of supreme control and direction.

O one who attributes creativity to “nature” and “natural” causes! The nature of everything, like the things themselves, is created, for it is full of art, original, and particular to itself. In addition, like everything itself, which is the result of a cause , its apparent cause is also created. In addition, the existence of everything depends on the existence of numerous “instruments.” Therefore, there must be an Absolutely Powerful One Who creates both the things and their nature and causes, and the instruments required. And what need does that All-Powerful One have to share impotent causes in His creativity and Lordship over existence? God forbid such a thought! Rather, He creates things together with their causes so that He displays the manifestations of His Names and His Wisdom. By so doing, He establishes an apparent, ordered cause -and-effect relationship, and makes the apparent causes a veil in people’s sight between His Dignity and what people may see as being defective or incompatible with mercy in things and events.

Which is easier and more reasonable for a watchmaker? Making the cogs of a clock and then arranging them to form the clock, or inserting a wonderful machine inside the cogs and then leaving the making of the watch to the lifeless hands of the machine? Is the second alternative easier and more reasonable or inconceivable and impossible? Use your reason to be the judge!

Or a scribe readies a pen, a piece of paper, and ink to write a book. Is it easier and more reasonable for him to write the book by himself, or to invent a machine inside the pen, the piece of paper, and the ink, more artistic and more troublesome than the book itself, and then tell that unconscious machine to write the book, while he does not interfere? Is not the second alternative a hundred times more difficult than the first?

Part1:

http://basicsofislam.tumblr.com/post/119346935115/islam-101-muslim-beliefs-knowledge-of-god

Part 2:

http://basicsofislam.tumblr.com/post/119431697960/islam-101-muslim-beliefs-knowledge-of-god

Part3:

http://basicsofislam.tumblr.com/post/119507755745/islam-101-muslim-beliefs-knowledge-of-god