all went downhill from there

unpopular opinion: there’s no way we can get a great garnet episode at this point

aka why i can understand why garnet stopped having episodes dedicated to her.

this isnt to justify the lack of episodes dedicated to her, but rather my anger and frustrations with the crewniverse for repeatedly stunting any development for her and turning her into a really bland and overly forgiving mom character

garnet transformed from this mysterious mother figure that would do quirky things and have spouts of anger to a faux progressive happy go lucky character (odlaws’ put my issue into words perfectly if you wanna understand it more)

like back in season 1? what were garnet’s flaws:

she was awkward, she would turn violent if you pushed her hard enough, she over estimates steven, she can lose focus easily, her stoic persona made her come off as uncaring and intimidating

after jailbreak, keeping it together and cry for help you would think garnet would face new conflicts such as trust issues, dealing with PTSD, coping with horrific imagery, letting things go, etc

but no. we never get any of that. we’re not ALLOWED to get any of that. instead all that emotion and turmoil is given to ruby and sapphire. really godbless these characters, i still love them to death and despite some of my issues with keystone motel, its still a really solid and enjoyable ep. But this arc was supposed to be about garnet being hurt. pearl was jealous of garnet and pearl hurt garnet. when pearl was insulting sugilite no one went “how rude of pearl to insult amethyst and garnet”. We all understood that sugilite was a separate identity who made her own decisions and garnet and amethyst weren’t influencing it. 

even when ruby and sapphire were angry about how they were hurt, RUBY was in the wrong because she didnt want to forgive pearl right away and sapphire told her that forgiving pearl was the right thing. ignoring the fact that that was a terrible message to send, that you need to just forgive people who hurt you right away just because they’re close friends, we never get a chance to see garnet vent and show her anger. even in Friend Ship, it ended with garnet playing the life coach for pearl DESPITE pearl not giving a proper apology and instead making bad excuses and using guilt tripping tactics (”im not strong enough” “im just useless”). its like the tumblr equivalent of someone going “i know i did something bad i get it im trash i deserve to die”. But garnet can’t shut that down can she? garnet cant receive a good apology can she? no she has to sit down and stroke Pearl’s ego for a goddamn minute.

garnet cant express her feelings because that’s wrong and bad! pearl can scream at a child and smack a wall simply because he tried to be supportive but garnet cant be mad. garnet’s not allowed to express her feelings. Friend Ship and Cry For Help made me realize something awful.

when garnet’s mad its not sympathetic, it’s scary

back in season 1 I forgave it since garnet was an imposing figure. she’s weird and mysterious. when she was mad it was over things like accidentally getting her glasses knocked off and ronaldo kidnapping steven. you could laugh at the situation with her and not really take her anger seriously enough

so you would think given the circumstances, the writers would understand that we should sympathize with garnet since she was violated. which isnt at all funny and nearly made her defuse.

But you’re not supposed to empathize with garnet. you’re not supposed to relate to her. You’re not supposed to go “poor garnet thats so messed up”. you’re instead supposed to react like “Yeah that was messed up but WHY is she mad at pearl :(”

amethyst complains about the house being awkward and taking neither sides despite it clearly being something that she should be supporting garnet in. steven doesnt support garnet either. when pearl snapped at steven in Rose’s Scabbard, steven chases after her and spends some time with her to lift her mood. But steven didn’t care to do anything for garnet. Steven didn’t invite her to come to the motel. Steven didn’t take the time to talk to her. and Steven didn’t make any attempt to relate to her.

and yet guess who did get the good ol’ “get coddled like a baby” treatment.

pearl. someone who was the cause of all this drama. who not only violated a friend several times, but delayed their mission and risked endangering everyone for the sake of feeling good about herself. but ofc the writer’s woobie fave could never do anything wrong :(

an entire arc that should’ve been meant to flesh out both garnet and pearl ended up shelving garnet and treating pearl like the victim in all of this. that SHE’S the one who needs help.

how insulting

a black woman who sang a song about the importance of love and fusion, who nearly fell apart when she saw forced fusions, is not the victim in this. the Cry For Help was about pearl. garnet needed to drop all her feelings for pearl.

And afterwards it just went downhill from there. its like the show completely gave up on garnet.

more focus and screen time was given to ruby and sapphire, who again i love, but get more development than garnet.

and finally we reach “Log Date 7 15 2″ or as i like to call it “the rise of magical negro garnet”

Peridot’s comments don’t piss off Garnet. You don’t see her get visibly angry. She barely musters a response except for mildly bored look. I wasn’t asking for “garnet beats up peridot for being a homophobe”, but I know very well that garnet would not be the type to just allow Peridot to spend several days making off color comments. Garnet looks bored to mildly pleased. 

You could call this character development except… not really? Garnet smiling more does not equal Garnet being way more tolerant of disrespectful behavior. But since this was an arc for peridot i forgave it a bit. 

But then came episodes like Gem Harvest where Garnet would seriously be the last person to just shut up and tolerate Andy’s disrespectful behavior. And in Mindful Education we see garnet using ruby and sapphire to express how they handle trauma rather than Garnet using her own emotions.

Garnet isn’t flawed anymore. Garnet doesn’t make awkward comments or act in ways that are oddly violent. She’s not brash or passionate. She’s just there to offer advice.

Finally there’s Room For Ruby, an episode that made me sit and go “there is no way in hell this is the same garnet before”

  • garnet was already cautious with Steven trying to train a corrupted gem, why would she not even moniter him teaching Navy about earth (i know they think she’s dumb but she’s not an animal and there’s a reason why the diamonds sent out those rubies)
  • garnet saw a future where navy did not care about being a crystal gem and did nothing. excuse me? Garnet says herself her future vision works like a river with various streams connecting to it, and relies on the future thats most common (she when she jumped in front of a spilled coffee pot to protect steven). garnet even understood at the end of the episode that bad futures are possible and risky, and if they’re most common she needs needs to act on it. why on earth would garnet see a future where navy takes the ship and leave and not do anything about it
  • she was waaaaay too laxed about steven failing to stop navy. remember when she said she was terrified of Blue Diamond? Or when she smashed a warp pad just for seeing peridot show up? 

garnet’s cool with everything now. she doesnt care. she became the most assertive member of the team to the most passive. she’s easy to convince and push. she lacks any depth outside of “quiet mom who smiles sometimes”.

i cant believe im saying this but i honestly thing the crew fucked with her personality harder than lapis. because at least in lapis’s case, there was no concrete identity for her.

but there was one for garnet, one we all loved. 

awkward, funny, quirky, sensitive and assertive garnet.

the writers could have developed it more and jailbreak made me believe we were going to see more of her. but instead the writers decided decided “Garnet with layered personalities is a bit too much for us. so we gotta simplify her. make her the walking shoulder to cry on. the friend that enables everything you do, she just loves steven and thats all that matters.”

and that’s all garnet is now. she’s almost like peridot. happy go lucky, overly forgiving and a shell of her former self.

and that makes me mad

Wrong

Originally posted by lumos025

Summary: Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung bullied you in high school and by some sick joke the universe was playing on you, 2 years later Jungkook was attending the same University as you. Even sicker joke was being stuck with him doing a project on ‘Sex in Cinema’ for a whole semester. Go figure.

Words: 8083

Warnings: Smut, a lot of dirty talk holy shit (I can’t help it), oral, masturbation, overstimulation.

2 years earlier:

You walked down the road, almost around midnight, trying to get home as fast as possible the chilly rainy weather. Not to mention the truck that was trailing behind you and the screams and shouts of “wait up thunder thighs!” and “stop running away like a little bitch!” coming from the 3 boys who occupied it. Wrapping your arms around yourself to feel just an ounce of warmth, you willed yourself to ignore these bastards and walk faster. ‘I’m almost home, I’m almost home’ repeating it like a mantra in your head. Really, it was a stupid idea to think that you could enjoy a last high school party with your friends who were the complete opposite of you. After all, when the three most popular boys of the school were determined to make your life a living hell, why would anyone else want to treat you different in this extremely cliché scenario. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was it about you that made them hate you so much.

From the time that you can remember, and you remembered a lot, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook had always despised you. It’s like they couldn’t stand your existence. When you would be at the library helping out by staying late, they would wait after school, yes they would go out of their way to stay at school longer, to make sure that your walk home was as stressful as possible. Making fun of pretty much anything and everything you did was a normal occurrence. You had just learned to live with it, but not today.

You suddenly started to slow your pace. They are cowards, you thought. What can they possibly do? Always taunting, always calling names, always making you feel shit about anything you took interest in. But they were all talk, right? You thought, huffing out. People like them walk in groups because they can’t actually do anything alone. You don’t know what came over you, but you suddenly stopped and turned around slowly. The truck that the boys were trailing behind you also slowed and stopped a few meters away.

The one driving was Jimin, while Taehyung sat beside him and Jungkook stood, head poking out of the truck’s opening in the ceiling. You stood defiantly, shaking from the growing rain, your hair soaked and hands tightly by your side. Silently daring them to charge the truck towards you. ‘They won’t do it, they’re cowards’ you thought, your confidence growing slowly. You couldn’t tell where this adrenaline rush had come from to give you such courage to finally stand your ground, just a few weeks away from graduation. You could see Taehyung’s cunning, and terrifyingly psychotic grin widening as he relentlessly whispered in Jimin’s ear, whose grip on the wheel was tightening as he looked you right in the eyes. Jungkook was laughing. He apparently found the situation so amusing, that you decided now to grow a spine and challenge them. Suddenly, the sound of the engine revving was as loud as the rain.

It all went pretty much downhill from there. The last thing you remembered was your too loud heartbeat, the bright flash from the truck and Jungkook’s face suddenly forming a horrified expression as if he wasn’t just laughing at you.

Present day:

You weren’t looking for him specifically among the crowd flooding into the lecture hall. But something did happen inside you when you spotted him. A kind of lightness, or a lifting of some heavy part of yourself. Everything was settling into a nice, normal routine. You were going about your daily lives in an ordinary manner, and you were doing it completely separately.

He sat in the fourth row, and you sat at the back. Only now there was no rising sense of dread. You didn’t keep your hand to yourself when the lecturer asked a question. You answered, without the background sound of someone snickering. And even when it felt as though he was looking at you, when you snuck a glance at him you only ever saw the back of his head.

He bent low over his notes, and his head occasionally lifted a little as he really listened to whatever the lecturer was saying. Once or twice you actually caught him nodding, or doing a little staggered-looking half laugh over some ridiculous concept. As if he loved it all now.

He loved it so much he was sometimes at the lectures early. You would come in with Y/B/F, still giggling over something ridiculous, and get the faint prickle that told you he was already there. Only now when it happened it didn’t make you want to cover yourself up, or run and hide. There was nothing to hide from. Everything was going to be super cool and totally fine from here on in. Or it would have been, if it were not for the group project. The one that you were so excited for that you didn’t process it when your lecturer started reading out the names. You would be working with Y/B/F—that was a given. You were going to watch ridiculously filthy movies together and laugh about bobbing butts and ogle Ewan McGregor’s penis.

And then you heard his name.

Followed by yours.

Distantly, like in a dream of being in class.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you have a problem with that assignment?”

Everyone was looking at you now. No—not just looking. Examining, as though You had become a new and baffling species. The girl who was not excited about the idea of spending a whole semester with Jungkook. The creature who seemed horrified at the prospect of working with him. It made it difficult to do anything at all, even with Y/B/F urging you to say yes, yes I do have a fucking problem. Though you still didn’t expect the shake of your head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of your head and that was it. Your lecturer moved on to his next victim, leaving you in something You once had a nightmare about in ninth grade. Working with Jungkook. On a semester-long project.

About sex in cinema.

“Don’t worry, we can fix this. Just go to his office and talk to him privately about it. He would have to be Satan himself to not understand,” You heard Y/B/F whisper. But the words seemed even further away than you name had when your lecturer read it out.

“Right. Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

“I can come with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been punched. In the face. With a small nuclear blast.”

“I’m sure,” You said, but soon came to regret that firmness in your voice. The steady nod that told Y/B/F it was okay for you to go in a different direction once you were outside. It only meant that you were on your own when you got to the tiny hallway outside your lecturer’s door.

And saw that Jungkook was already waiting. Of course he was—he probably had the same concerns as you. No matter how sorry he was or what he thought of being in the red and being wrong, he would never want to work in close quarters with you for the entire semester. In fact, him being sorry likely made the situation seem worse to him. Most likely he had calculated all the awkward conversations you guys would have to have and how far apart he would have to stand to keep you comfortable, and found it as unbearable as you did.

Even though his expression seemed to say something else.

Oh god. His expression was saying something else.

Then he held up his hands, as though to calm you.

And you knew.

“All right, Y/N, I know that you’re probably thinking it’s way better if you do this project with that gal pal of yours, but wait, okay? I got reasons why this is gonna be fine.”

“Is that seriously why you’re here? To stop me asking to switch us?”

“Well…no. Not stop you exactly. Stop is a really strong word.”

“While I’m glad you’ve learned that—” You said, your voice briefly catching when you saw his wince. He winced, your mind hissed, before you forced yourself to finish. “I still think it covers what’s happening here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about it for a second. Just, like, hear me out.”

“I want to. I really do. But come on. You know I wasn’t born yesterday. This has all the hallmarks of some kind of trap or prank or joke at my expense.”

“How could it possibly be a trap or prank? He put people together based on…I don’t even know what he put people together based on. But it couldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

You searched his face, looking for the lie. Waiting for him to show some hint of bullshit, beneath those too-kind eyes and his spread hands and the obvious logic of what he was saying.

Only there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

And it made no difference at all.

“Okay, I buy that. I do. Yet the fact still remains: I cannot do a project with you. Ever. You have to know that doing anything like that is completely impossible for me. Right?”

“I was just thinking that maybe…maybe you could give it a chance. You know, now that we’re on speaking terms and everything is almost cool between us.”

“You think everything is cool between us?”

“Well, maybe not cool exactly. More like…okay.”

“Still need to dial it back a notch, chief.”

“Reasonable? Not bad? Kind of semi decent?”

“That last one is getting close.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.

Relenting, you thought. He’s actually relenting.

“Fine, we are a fucking disaster.”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” You said.

“But I figure we can work on it.”

“By doing a project on sex in the cinema together?”

“Well,” he said. “When you put it like that it sounds dumb.”

“There’s no other way to put it! That is literally what you’re suggesting.”

“Yeah, I get that. I just…want to not get that. I want it to be easier or better or just not the way this is.”

“That could have been my daily prayer in high school, Jungkook.”

He didn’t react the way you expected to, with more weird arguing.

He just closed his eyes.

He closed them like someone had just told him his family had been in a fatal accident.

“I wish I could go back and start over again. More than wish—I would give everything I have to start over again. The wrestling, this scholarship, every party I ever went to and every fun thing I ever did. And you can choose to not believe me about that, but—”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah.”

“Then why does this have to be such a big deal?”

You thought of Y/B/F saying attempted murder.

“Y/N that is fucking attempted murder. Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about anything you put him through now. His friends and him included, ran you over with a fucking truck. How much physio and other therapy sessions did you have to go through because of them, huh?”

The terror that used to flood you when he walked down the hall.

That ever-present sensation of a grille barrelling into your body.

“Because understanding that someone is truly sorry and wanting to spend huge amounts of time with them are two different things. I might see that you mean this, and know rationally that I can almost sort of trust you. Maybe I even want it to be that easy, too. But your face is the one I had nightmares about for two years. Your smile doesn’t seem happy to me. I associate it with cruelty.”

You shook your head. Glanced away from him so you didn’t have to see the defeated look on his face.

“It’s hard for me to look at you, Jungkook, no matter how much I appreciate what you’ve done here.”

“That was a really well-thought-out and logically sound speech.”

“I know it was. I’m pretty proud.”

“And I have no argument against it.”

“You don’t need one. What you’ve done here…” You gritted your teeth hard and looked at the ceiling. But this time it didn’t stop the tears. They were already welling up by the time You explained the rest to him.

“It means a lot. And a million men would never have done the same, I can promise you. I don’t have any messages from Jimin on my phone. Taehyung isn’t going to call anytime soon. It’s just you, a rare fantasy in the middle of all this dismal reality.”

He turned around when you were done. All the way around—and then his arms went up to cover his head and you understood. What you said had affected him, strongly. Maybe more than his words had affected you. It took him twice as long to get it together, and even after he had he couldn’t quite look at you. He just kept staring at the wall and clenching his jaw.

And saying things. Oh yeah, he said things, in a strained, shaky voice.

“I meant what I said, you know. That you are the very best.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to ask you not to say it again.”

“I can’t stop. I have the opposite of whatever idiocy infected me in high school.”

“What, like insane-need-to-compliment fever?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

“Well it has taken a raging hold of you, let me tell you.”

“I know it seriously cannot be stopped.”

“I think you have a terminal case.”

“Not a bad way to go, if you ask me,” he said, so soft and sincere it took all your strength to stop yourself smiling in response. You could feel your lips trembling. Your cheeks ached with the effort of pinning them down, yet still You knew you were failing. You could see it in his satisfied expression.

And hear it in his words.

“That’s better. Seeing you look happy.”

“I am happy,” You said, then added without thinking: “Are you?”

Of course you didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a polite habit, based on interactions with people other than Jungkook. People who had actual problems, who lived troubled lives, who might answer with a god no. Jungkook would never need to answer with a god no. His life was full of endless possibilities and unfettered glory. He could snap his fingers and have a thousand people follow him to the ends of the earth.

He even looked that way, in the dim light of the narrow hallway between these offices.His hair was the colour of dark chocolate. Every item of clothing suited him perfectly, from the rich grey-blue of his V-neck to the jeans he’d tucked into his timberlands. He exuded cool from every pore; he could have stepped off the cover of a magazine. Yet all you could see was his face as it slowly sagged. It was like watching someone cut the strings that had held a mask in place—a mask you hadn’t known he was wearing. You thought that smiling golden god who had tormented you was the real him, but for a second you couldn’t be sure. Just for one heart-rattling second, and then the door to the office opened and that glimpse of something else was gone—so fast You would imagine later that it had never existed. It was just a trick of the light.

Better to focus on the real and the now.

“What can I do for you two today?” Professor asked.

Then you took a breath and answered.

“Nothing,” You said.

A few weeks later:

After that day, you didn’t know how or why you suddenly decided to give working with him a try, but so far, it was going…. okay. You two met up at the library, took your notes, glancing at each other once in a while, mostly Jungkook, asking each other questions relevant to your awkward topic given the situation and that was that. He made jokes sometimes that managed to get out a few carefree laughs out of you as well. It was all… comfortable. Nothing that you had expected. That is why, you decided, it was time to move on to watching actual movies for references, in your project.

It was nearly one in the morning, on a Wednesday night when you went to get him as your friend was out and that was the only time Jungkook was free after wrestling practice. Everyone was in bed, and it gave an eerie feeling to your journey back to your dorm.

As did his silence.

He was always talking—You realized that then. Sometimes he practically kept up a running commentary on everything and anything, yet here he was as quiet as stone. And it wasn’t because he was exerting himself. He didn’t breathe hard once the whole time. He could have been carrying a backpack full of air. But the idea of mental trouble lingered. When you tilted your head a little, you could practically hear his mind going over and over things, in a way that just wasn’t like him. He was easy-going. Happy-go-lucky. He never worried about things the way you did.

Until now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem a little…”

Like an ominous statue of yourself.

“I was just thinking what movie we should watch.”

“Oh. Oh. You mean…right now?” You asked.

“Well, that’s what you came to get me for.”

“That’s true, I did come and get you for that.”

“Unless you don’t want me in your room so late.”

“No, no why would I…no, that’s cool.”

“You’re in the Jubilee Building, right?”

You had the strongest urge to ask him how he knew. But that seemed just as weird as objecting to him being in your room.

“Yeah. You just go past the science block and then—”

“Right, right, right I got it, I got it. The statue of Heo Nanseolheon is outside it, yeah?”

“That’s the one. Then it’s the third floor. Don’t worry though, there’s an elevator.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Do you wanna let me unlock the door?” you asked standing behind him when you both reached your dorm.

“Oh shit, yeah. Yeah, go ahead,” he said moving his bulky body out of the way as you slid past him to unlock the door. Everything had returned to the way it should be now between you and Jungkook.

Except for the sexy movie you were now going to watch.

Alone. Together. On your bed. In the middle of the night.

You let him pick the movie, thinking that would make things easier somehow. Nothing could be misconstrued, at least, that way. He wouldn’t think you meant anything by your choice, whatever it might be. But you forgot that he might mean something with his choice. You watched the heroine trying to clumsily pick up the hero at the start of White Palace, and cringed so hard it felt more like a cramp in your gut. Your cheeks grew hot, in a way that made you grateful for the dim light of your feeble bedside lamp.

Otherwise he would see your face go red and know you understood his point—despite the fact that his point was fucking nonsense.

“This is even less realistic than Dirty Dancing.”

“Really? You think so? Like, in what way?” You asked.

“It just seems like she keeps pushing and pushing. No woman would push a guy that good-looking if he didn’t seem into it. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing.”

You didn’t look at him, but knew he shrugged.

His arm rubbed against yours as he did it.

“Maybe she doesn’t care.”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe she knows he’s actually into it.”

“That could be one explanation.” Jungkook says, sighing.

“Plus she obviously gets exactly what she was looking for.” He adds.

Onscreen, Susan Sarandon was going down on James Spader.

Which to you didn’t seem to back up his point at all.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s having a great time getting absolutely nothing out of this.”

“That’s what this looks like to you? Like she’s getting nothing out of this?”

“Well, in movies they make it look like she is. But I doubt she really would be.”

“You doubt that giving a guy a blow job could be enjoyable for a woman.”

You glanced at him then, just to see if his expression was as incredulous as his voice.

Then had to look back at the screen quickly. If anything, his expression was worse. He had one eyebrow raised, and there was almost no humour in his eyes. This was serious somehow. Much too serious.

“I don’t know. I mean it’s not really something you do for your own enjoyment. You do it for his.”

“So to you there’s nothing pleasurable about it. Nothing sexy about having a guy at your mercy. Begging you, moaning for you, trying not to push too deep when it gets too good.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do those things?”

The words came out too fast. Too disbelieving, too.

But You just couldn’t stop them. They ripped out of you before you had time to talk it over with you mind, all ragged around the edges and maybe a little breathless. Just enough that he likely heard it, and wondered why. You couldn’t tell him, however. You didn’t know yourself. You only knew that when he started talking again, you had the urge to put your fingers in your ears.

“Of course I do those things. Having your cock sucked is fucking amazing,” he said, which was absolutely fine.

But then he kept going.

He kept going.

“The heat and the slickness and her looking up at you as she works it with her hands and lips and tongue. Especially the tongue. The tongue is the best part. Watching it curl right around the—”

“Well, okay, it sounds cool when you put it that way.”

God your voice sounded loud. And too fast again, too. All your words practically jumbled together.

“I don’t know what other way it could possibly be.”

“How about hold still while I fuck your face? Some guy coming right in your eye? Losing a chunk of hair because he pulled too hard?”

“You’re not serious. Tell me honestly. None of that happened.”

Now his voice was bright with amusement. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

“All of that happened. To me. More than once.”

“Yeah but after…”

“After what?”

“After he came then he…”

He made a circle with his hand bobbing his head, as though you should know that one thing logically followed on from the other. It was all completely easy and obvious.

Instead of the hardest quiz you had ever had to get through. “Then he what? Gave me cab fare?”

“No. No. After that then this happens.”

You glanced at the thing he was pointing at.

Then had to look away again, quick. At your hands, at the bedspread.

At him, as he oh-so-slowly realized what your sudden awkwardness meant.

“This has never happened to you. Holy shit. You’ve never had a guy go down on you.”

“I have had a guy go down on me. I totally have.”

“Are you sure about that? You don’t look sure.”

“Well, maybe not like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it. This is actually the most basic, ordinary way to go about eating pussy.”

At those words, you could feel the fire burning on your cheeks and your breathing getting laboured. Jungkook really had no filter.

“Yeah, but this seems really exciting and sexy and hot.”

“Going down on a girl is really exciting and sexy and hot. Like I said about giving a guy head? Exactly the same principle. You get to see you writhe and shake and push herself against your mouth. Just like that, just like Sarandon is doing. Look at her. Look at her.”

“I am. I am looking,” You said, but You weren’t, not really.

You were thinking of the shiver that had gone through you when he said look, soft as butter and so oddly tender. And the way that he was looking himself, eyes almost far away.

Like he was seeing Sarandon, but putting someone else in her place.

“Think about how it must feel.”

“Yeah I can…I get that…”

“Think about his tongue slowly easing over her soft folds.”

“Is that…how…is that what you…” You said, breathlessly “Uh-huh.”

“And it works?”

You voice was a whisper now. But that was okay. His was, too. It was so low he had to lean close to ask you questions. He had to meet your gaze, and You had to meet his.

“What works?”

“It makes you…you know. Cum.”

“Oh yeah. But you gotta take your time.”

“I see. I guess that makes sense.” You were just babbling now, trying to keep up with him.

“Let it build, nice and slow. Start by just stroking her with your fingertips. Work her, you know, until her lips part. And then when she’s all open to you, you just trace the shape of her with your tongue. Lick and lick in these ever decreasing circles until you’re right…fucking…there.”

“Where? Where…where are you?”

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew you shouldn’t as soon as it was out. Your faces were too close together now, and his body seemed to be looming over yours. That was his shoulder, almost nudging your chin. And his thigh, pressing deep and hard into yours. His answer was never going to make any of this better.

Then it came, hotter than molten lava and twice as destructive.

“Her clit. Her slick, swollen clit.”

“I see. That makes sense,” You said, even though that wasn’t what you wanted to go with.

No, what you wanted to go with was more like oh my fucking God this can’t be reality.

“Then you just…stroke it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until she’s mindless.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, or doing. She might tell you to bite, to fuck her with your tongue and fingers, harder or faster or some word that doesn’t even make sense. Hips coming up to meet you, greedy for it, horny for it, so horny she barely notices that her hand is in your hair and she’s squeezing tight enough for it to sting, so close to coming that her whole body is shuddering and shivering and flushing that deep, good pink. Soon as you see it you just know she’s burning. That her clit is aching and throbbing and her pussy is all open and slippery, and one more second of this will make her come. She’s already coming, before you even know where you’re at. Hard, hard, hard, like she never has before.”

You were holding your breath by the time he was done. You practically had to—his face was so close now you could have blinked and brushed his cheek with your eyelashes. Every word he said seemed to stroke against your face, cool at first but then more heated. As though he was starting to boil alive inside, too. Certainly he looked that way. You have never seem him flushed like this, not even when he pushed himself during a match.

Not even when he was embarrassed.

Though you supposed that wasn’t a common occurrence. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed now, and he’d just said all those words. He said clit and pussy and slippery, as if that was just a normal way to talk to your friend. And he did it all without flinching, too. Without glancing away or putting some distance between you. In fact, those eyes of his—now heavy lidded and so soft focus—seemed intent on you more than they ever had been before. They skittered all over you face, searching for something you had no idea how to give.

You didn’t even know what the something was.

You only knew that it made you forget yourself, just as he had described.

It made you search his face back, marvelling over every brutish line and gentle curve. Those lips of his, as plump as a girl’s yet so masculine at the same time. Every inch of them gleaming, as if he’d slicked them with gloss in anticipation of a kiss. Though even in that moment you didn’t really believe you wanted that. Until he whispered, low and heavy against your own lips.

“You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Touch yourself.”

It jolted you, when he said it.

But not as much as realizing why he said it.

You followed his gaze down, and took in the unmistakable sight of your hand in your lap. Really, really high up in your lap. Almost between your legs, in fact—though that was fine, it was cool, it was okay. You stuttered ‘no, no I didn’t really want to do that’, but it didn’t matter.

Because his hand was actually between his legs.

“I do,” he said.

As the whole world as You knew it dissolved right in front of your eyes.

“You do?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m dying to.”

“Because of the film. Because of the movie.”

“Sure. We can say that, if you want.”

You closed your eyes. Swallowed thickly.

Wished hard that he hadn’t added that last part.

“If we could that would be awesome.”

“No problem. I mean it was probably inevitable that this would happen to us.”

“Probably, yeah. Almost definitely, in fact.”

“Just a natural response to a sexy movie.”

“Seems that way to me.”

“So you just slip your hand under your waistband, and I’ll slip my hand under mine,” he said, which was fine all on its own. The problem was that he then went ahead and did it. You tried not to look, but saw anyway. You saw the way he fumbled in his haste, as though all his talk was only calm on the surface. Underneath, something was paddling frantically. It was making his cheeks pink and his body all trembly.

And his dick hard. God, his cock was hard.

You could see that without even trying at all. The curving shape beneath his sweatpants was enormous and unmistakable, and even if it hadn’t been, his hand made it pretty clear. As You watched, he eased it over that solid length, before finally clasping it in a way that shoved the swollen head right up against the tented material. Now You could make out ruder details, like the thick ridge around the head, and the slit at the tip. Both pronounced, explicit, rude.

But that wasn’t what really got you.

It was the way he stopped to lick his palm, before shoving it

under his waistband.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, are you serious?”

“It’s cool. it’s fine. We don’t even have to look at each other.”

“No I guess not. I guess…I guess that I can just watch the screen.”

“We’re just two people getting off over a hot movie.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

But that wasn’t strictly true. You weren’t getting off over the movie at all. Nothing was even happening anymore—it was just rich people looking down their noses and arguments over a Dust buster. If anything, it was vaguely depressing, rather than lust-inducing. Yet still You sat there, face burning, body tender and rigid all at the same time. Half of you stuffed so full of embarrassment and shock you sort of wanted to block everything out, the other half just shamelessly straining to hear every single tiny sound he made. Never daring to look, of course, but then…

You really didn’t need to.

He made so much noise that you could make out almost everything. Every little moan and gasp—and there were a lot of them, too. Lots of thick, guttural moans that started on an ah and ended with a kind of abrupt sigh, as though a knife had sliced through his throat before he could finish. So many soft mmms and gasps, like he honestly couldn’t get enough of whatever he was doing.

Though it was the whispers that hit you hardest. They got you right in the gut, low down and deep enough to ache. Oh yeah, he murmured, as though the hottest sex in the world was happening onscreen. As though they were fucking like animals, up and down and left and right. His tone even sounded sort of tremulous, and it got more intense as time went on. Soon he was panting, and rocking, and every now and then uttering something he was clearly imagining himself doing.

“Ah, yeah, suck my cock, just like that,” he said.

Then just to make it extra agonizing, he spat into his hand.

To make it extra slick, you thought, like someone’s mouth. Someone sucking him the way he’d described, slow and steady until he was actually shuddering, right here and now. The bed was moving, at least, and it wasn’t because he was working that cock hard. He wasn’t. He was going slow, so slow, squeezing and rolling rather than the short, fast kind of thing You’d always thought guys did. They almost never seemed to do anything else in porn…but then again they never did all this other stuff, too. You dared to turn you head a little more and saw to your astonishment that he had his hand pressed to his mouth. He was almost biting his fist, chest heaving, body shivering all over—but most important, eyes closed.

He couldn’t even see you looking. You were free to do as you pleased.Yet something held you back. You couldn’t seem to do more than peek out of the corner of you eye, and even that made you feel strange. You kept getting this clenching sensation—sort of like embarrassment or humiliation—and it got worse when his back arched. When he actually said out loud that he was almost there, that he was so close, that he was gonna come all over your duvet. I need something to do it on, he said, and even that had a shameful frisson of its own. You had a brief flash of him kneeling up and suddenly coming all over your face, or maybe pulling down that ridiculously large neck hole to expose your breasts.

Followed by an image of that thick white liquid coating you, striping you face, dripping off your tight little nipples. Him pushing his cock past your lips to finish off, groaning as he flooded your mouth.

And he would have flooded it, too. You glanced at him just in time to see him shove his sweatpants down, that big dick swelling under the pressure of his too-tight grip. Thick ribbons of come already hitting his bared belly, over and over until you were sure he must be done. He had to be, yet more kept flowing over his still-working fist. You watched it run down over his fingers in slippery trails before pooling in his lap.

Though none of it was what you kept seeing behind your eyes in the aftermath. Instead, you saw the way his face had looked as he shot his load. The open mouth, and the closed eyes, and most of all the strange, wrenching vulnerability that had covered him for a moment. No mischief, no macho bullshit—just a completely open and abandoned sort of ecstasy.

And all of it for you.

He knew you had watched him. He still knew now. You flicked your eyes back to the screen as he started to catch his breath, but the first thing he did was include you.

“Guess I kind of made a mess here,” he said, everything about his tone suggesting two conspirators, finishing off their evil deed. You even got up after he’d said it, to get him a tissue.

Though when You got back he’d pretty much taken care of most of it.

You stopped in the doorway to the bathroom at the sight: Him, casually licking his messy fingers.

It took you a good two minutes after that to go over to him, with your fistful of toilet paper. And when you did go, it was on very shaky legs. Your whole body felt shaky, in fact—though not in any way you’d experienced before. This was like being full to the brim with something burning hot, skin so close to ripping that it couldn’t keep still. Sometimes you thought you could see it shivering slightly under the strain, and every inch of it was tender, so tender. His leg brushed yours as you sat down, and it was agony. You even winced—then immediately regretted it.

He had been concentrating on clean-up. Now he looked up at you sharply.

And asked questions You were loathing to answer.

“Have you…not? I mean have you not—”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.”

“God, you must be bursting.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

The problem was though; you didn’t seem fine.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Your hands were fists on your thighs.

And of course he could see all of that.

“You look like you’re bursting.”

“Oh yeah? And what does bursting look like?”

“Your voice is shaking.”

“Is it?” You asked, voice so light it almost passed.

Almost, almost, almost.

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Are they?”

“And then there’s the fact that your nipples are like diamonds. Fuck, look how stiff they are. Isn’t that agonizing, having them like that? I bet your clit’s the same. Bet your pussy is so wet. So wet you’re making a mess of the nice, clean clothes.”

Your cheeks grew hotter and hotter as he whispered each word. By the time he was done they felt like they were going to melt right off you face. That tense, cringing feeling in your stomach was ten times worse, and that was before he got to the last point. The one about the clothes, and the mess, and oh god what if he was right? It felt as if he might be. You weren’t wearing any underwear, and everything was really slippery between your legs. You could feel it, every time You moved.

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry I don’t…I hope…it’s just that—” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing

“Honey, you don’t need an explanation.”

His tone was like sinking into a warm bath—and the thumb you could feel stroking over you forearm only pulled you deeper down. He just did it so idly. So like he wasn’t touching you at all.

Before you knew it, you were up to your ears in liquid heat.

“Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like I do.”

“I’m sure. I mean, the movie was pretty intense.”

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

“No, god no,” You said, too fast and too fierce.v

Though it was only afterward that you realized how it sounded: Not like someone trying to say you didn’t want to masturbate. Like someone saying that you wanted him to stay.

And he took it that way, too.

“Or, you know. I could just…do it for you,” he said.

Then you just had to do your best not to go out of your mind.

You stopped herself from jumping up. Kept your hands from flailing.

Didn’t look at him, in case looking made you do something crazy.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

Again, you had the urge to get up. Maybe you even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking your arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of your arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of your throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing you there. It felt like kissing.

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

All of this was without the scariness of the real thing. It was just a game, that was all—and one that you could win if you really put you mind to it. He thought he could get you so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. You were a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. You were impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where you almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of your swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through you was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to your clit, or eased a finger into your slick little hole. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure he’d touched you at all.

Yet you still had to clench your jaw.

You had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened before—the film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching you, with his skill. He wasn’t skilful at all. He was terrible. Awful.

he worst lover you had ever had.

You had no idea why your thighs were trembling. Or what made you moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling you just what he found there.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Y/N, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all You could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for the feel of him doing it.

He used two fingers—two of those long, thick fingers—yet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into you. There was no fumbling or searching. Your body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on you for hours. He knew exactly how to touch you there, and when he did you simply had to respond. Your gasp rung out in the small room.Though you vowed it would be the last one. That was it now—you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good. you kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why was he the one who had to be so good at this? How did he know how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?

Even watching him do it was exciting. You made the mistake of glancing down and all you could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give you a glimpse of your glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way you were spread around that thick intrusion…

Fuck.

You had to look at the screen just to stop yourself coming right then and there—though even those measures had an exciting quality of their own. James Spader was just doing something incredibly dull now, while you sat here watching through slitted eyelids, cheeks flushed and legs spread, as a man slowly fingered your slick, flushed pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, until you were so beside yourself you weren’t sure you even wanted to hold back your moans. You only knew that you were still trying, for reasons that seemed vague and far away now. It just doesn’t matter, your mind hissed, but you kept it up anyway. You held yourself more tightly and bit deep into your lip—deep enough that you tasted blood. And when he started to ease those fingers up, you shut your eyes tight. You thought of other things, more boring things: dry books and bird-watching. All to no avail. He made one circle around your clit.

Just one tiny, insignificant circle, and that was it. Your orgasm rolled up from that stiff little bud, in one all-consuming and all-powerful wave. It took away your control over your body—your toes curled tight and your back arched. But most important, it took away your control over your mouth. It let one little word slip out.

Though one little word was more than enough.

“Jungkook,” You said, and after that the game was pretty much up. That was gratitude in your voice and pleasure in the sigh behind it, and all wrapped in the neat little bow of his name. There was no more pretending that it wasn’t him who had made you feel this way, or suggesting that all of this was just a game.And he knew it immediately. He kept up the thrusts of his long, thick fingers, helping you prolong the feeling of your orgasm for as long as possible. And he didn’t stop there. Your face was starting to contort from the oversensitivity and it was obvious that Jungkook knew it too from the way he bit his lip and started to purposely move his fingers faster once again.

“Ahh! J-Jungkook… I can’t….” You moaned out, though this seemed to have no effect on him as he seemed determined to elicit another orgasm from you. His fingers scraping against your tightening walls as they fought to repeatedly slam back inside you. Your thighs were shaking, your eyes half lidded, leaning back on your hands as his worked between your legs. Suddenly you gripped Jungkook’s moving hand as you came dangerously close to letting go.

“That’s it, fuck, cum again for me Y/N. I need this. You need this” He almost sounded desperate and it made you want to sob because everything was so fucking hot.

With a cry of his name, you came undone again, your body almost curling in towards itself from the sensitivity.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” he said, as though you’d cried out the filthiest thing on the face of the earth. And, again, he didn’t stop there. You could hear him fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants already—though you tried to turn it into something else in your head. He was just pulling them up, you thought. They had slid down as he serviced you, that was all.

Only it wasn’t all.

When you made the mistake of glancing his way, you saw so much more than you were ready for. It was supposed to be over now, completely over, but he’d shoved everything down to mid-thigh and his cock was in his hand again and god god god why was it so arousing? You’d had cum twice already. He’d had one orgasm already, and now he was being so fucking filthy.

Yet somehow the filthiness only made it worse.

You came searingly close to telling him yes.

And go on.

And come all over me—just like you’d imagined.

For one wild second, it even seemed like he might. He was groaning and panting and he kept saying things, incredible things like “do you see what you do to me do you get how fucking horny you make me oh fuck just hearing you moan my name”. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, and you knew he was close. He was going to yank your top down any second now.

Any second, you thought.

Though you didn’t realize how much you wanted it until the first thick burst slid over his fist.

Didn’t know how little control you had over herself until he grunted your name and shuddered violently, that slick fluid easing over his still-pumping fist. After all, if you’d had any you would have stayed right where you were, content to just watch.Instead of leaning forward to take that heavy, swollen, slippery head in your mouth, to catch the last ribbons of his salt-sweet cum all over your eager tongue.

“Fucking fuck, Jagiya” Jungkook cursed loudly, watching you take the head of his cock in your mouth. He slid his hands in your hair, gripping it from the bottom of your skull gently, rocking your face back and forth, riding out the last of his high. You looked up at him, eye still glassed over, breathing hard and laboured and slid the head of him out of your mouth.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was shocked at your boldness but he seemed pleasantly surprised. His pupils blown out, lips swollen, skin gleaming. He truly was a work of art. The magnitude of what you two had done hit you hard. So, naturally, there was only one thing left to do in panic.

Kick him out.

“Jungkook…you need to leave”

A/N: So, Idk what happened but yeah hope you all enjoy. Not sure if I’ll make this a series since I’m bad at continuing ideas. I may stick to separate scenarios. I get bored easily. However, please feel free to check out my blog and send me ideas for new fics

9

top 20 degrassi characters (as voted by my followers): #13. Fiona Coyne

“There was a time in my life where my worst fear was that I would be alone forever. But last night when I was waiting around in the hospital alone, I had a lot of time to think. This past year’s been the best of my life. I have the best girlfriend in the world, I’m not gonna let one break in ruin how far I’ve come. I love my condo and I might still get scared sometimes, but I have to keep living there. It’s my home.”

ONLY 90s KIDS REMEMBER

When BTS only meant ‘behind the scenes’

When SEVENTEEN was just a magazine

When Big Bang was just a theory

When f(x) meant just math

When shiny was spelled with a 'y’

When SM was just a card for your camera

When EXO was just a hug and a kiss

When the only K-POP you *kinda* knew was Gangnam Style….

…til it all went downhill from there…

I am going to submit a random headcanon to you:  

Stiles dragging the pack to play Laser Tag.

Stiles that played once, when he was twelve. He asked it as his birthday present, and John and Melissa drove them to the nearest place from Beacon Hills. Stiles was absolutely delighted, until they learned that they would be put with strangers to form a team. It all went downhill from there. 

They were left alone to be shot at fifteen seconds in, and had to hide under a ramp. Scott had an asthma attack when the fog machines started and Stiles, terrified, had to drag both of them out. He then fell into a full blown panic attack in the changing rooms.

So, not their best memory.

But fast forward seven years later. They are nineteen now, Scott is a werewolf and Stiles has been tortured and shot at. Laser tag is gonna be easy. Stiles is so ready to avenge their younger selves.

He only need a team.

Stiles prudently presents the idea during pack night. He’s not worried for most of them, he knows that most of his friends have an unhealthy love for violence and winning. He’s also ready to make Scott cry in order to convince Isaac.


The only unknown variable is their taciturn alpha. Somehow, convincing him to play with lasers in a room reeking of teenager’s hormones and sweat seems like a difficult task. But Stiles has prepared his speech, he has perfectly reasonable arguments, and he will bullshit about pack unity and trust exercises if need be.

Of course, because this is Derek and he likes to fuck up with Stiles’ expectations, he’s only finished the first sentence of his passionate plea when Derek raises one hand in the air to stop him.

Yes,” he breathes, and smiles. They all blink at him a little. Derek keeps smiling, bunny teeth showing and looking almost… excited.

So.

Derek’s family apparently used to throw their kids into the woods to pitch them against each other for fun.

Stiles is not surprised.

Stiles is awfully not surprised.

This was the family whose genes created Peter Hale.

Not noticing their stunned silence, Derek describes his childhood memories. During their monthly run under the full moon, adults used to hide colored pieces of tissue everywhere. The next day, Derek, his sisters and cousins were all let loose, in several teams, into the wood. At dusk, the team that was able to bring back the more targets to their home base while protecting said home base from enemy raids won. The prize was some old trophy, bragging rights and first crack at every dish during the huge dinner.

Derek is trying so hard to communicate his enthusiasm for his claws-and-fangs-allowed, hunger-game version of catch the flag that his hands are moving a little bit in the air. It’s adorable.

When Scott tries to get back on the subject of laser tag (Stiles glares at him, because Derek was sharing things), Derek immediately nods and explains helpfully that there is a place supernatural-friendly just 45 minutes away from Beacon Hills. There is no protest in the pack. Stiles bats the air with his fist in victory.

Their first game together teaches Stiles a lot of things.

Keep reading

kiss me with rain on your eyelashes

this fic was inspired by this lovely drawing by @mundanelion ♥ thank you so much for this beautiful piece and for letting me use it as my muse!

this is a mix of show!canon and book!canon when it comes to magnus’ past

tw: non-graphic description of drowning, past trauma

(thank you to my wonderful beta @magnusragnor who, as always, did an amazing job and put up with my anxious self. i love you)

He should have known from the moment he woke up to the sound of Alec moving around the dark room, stubbing his toe against the dresser and muttering curses under his breath, that this wasn’t going to be the best day. The fact that it was still dark and Alec wasn’t laying in bed, under the warm sheets and and wrapped around Magnus should have been a clue.

“Alexander?” he murmured sleepily.

Through half lidded eyes he saw Alec freeze, his silhouette framed by the city lights filtering through the gap in the curtains they forgot to close the night before, a thin ray of ghostly white breaking through the shadows.

Keep reading

shameless [ stan uris x reader ]

summary: stan likes to flirt. also, pumpkin heist?

warnings: none my boi

a/n:  this is written for @superwolfiestar ‘s “Beauty and the Beast Halloween prompt challenge”! this is day  22 and prompt pumpkin patch. also, request by anon:  Hi! Could you possibly do a Stan Uris x reader where he starts to shamelessly flirts with the reader when they are alone, and at first she is shocked that quiet Stan is doing that. She then tells the other losers, but they can’t believe it until they catch him doing it. But he doesn’t really mind ‘cause Stan the Man is high key a 1000% savage lol Hope you like the idea :)

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.

“Did you smile when you recognized my voice just now?”

Confused and even a bit disturbed, you stare into space as your face slowly twists in confusion. You press the bright red telephone to your ear. Behind you, in the living-room, whilst cleaning your mother calls you sweetly and asks who are you talking to. A moment of pure awkward silence passes.

Stan?” You ask; you swear it was his voice, but Stanley Good Boy Uris would never in a million years pull a one-liner on you. That’s Richie’s shtick.

“We’re hanging out tonight, just so you know.”

Beep beep beep. He hung up. Shaken, you slowly put down the telephone. Mixed feelings brew within you: is this a joke? Is Stan okay? Are you okay? Impossible to tell at the moment, but your heart is racing and your cheeks grow feverishly hot. Did he ask you out? No, no way, not Stan Uris. Are the Losers pulling your leg? Possibly. Your birthday is coming up and they always think of something hilarious and equally embarrassing to do on such occasions.

You suppose you’ll have to find out when night falls.

That’s how it had started. A simple telephone call and all went downhill (or uphill, deepening on how one choses to view it) from there. Stan Uris had a knack of catching you in situations where you were alone: after cheerleading practice, shoving your books into your locker, on your way to the girls’ bathroom (That was one time. Coincidentally he had emerged from the boys’ bathroom as you were pulling the handle to girls’ one!). He would wink (yes he would!), call you some sort of made up nickname or just throw you a compliment before disappearing to find Bill. The worst part was, in front of the Losers he was as normal and as sarcastic as he ever was. And Beverly didn’t believe you, either.

“Stan? Really?” She had rolled her eyes with a cheeky smile one time at lunch, “C’mon (Name), at least pick a boy that has actual courage to do that.”

And now here you are. Evening is drawing near and the world paints itself in pretty gold-orange and pink-purple shades. Everything has a strange rosy hue to it, as if someone had taken one of those new age cameras and put a filter on it. It’s also strangely warm, so you lose the scarf and gloves as you hop off your bike along with the two other boys accompanying you. You all stop next to Mr. Feilche’s home. He is an old policeman with a short temper, and currently the only one on the block that is at work and also grows pumpkins in his garden. Halloween is fast approaching and making Jack-O-Lanterns with the Losers has become tradition. Sadly, limited cash supply turns you to crime.

Not like stealing a few pumpkins is all that bad, after all. He has a dozen. You are positive Mr. Feilche won’t even notice.

Taking in a deep breath you stare down the looming house. It seems eerie even, with the curtains drawn and the doors locked and no live being inside. Its paint is already falling and porch lights flicker uneasily in the evening shade. Throwing your bike into nearby bushes - so no one would see it, obviously - you shove your hands into your pockets and look at the boys: Richie follows in your example and lazily drops his bike next to yours, while Stan is careful, setting his and covering it with leaves. Once the boys are done you all share a nod.

“Everyone remember their codenames?” You ask.

“Richie is Eagle 1,” Stan speaks up, “You’re Been there DoneThat, I’m Currently Doing That.”

“Dude, wasn’t (Name) Eagle 2?” Richie inquires. 

Stan shakes his head, “That would imply that she has something to do with you.” Sharing a laugh you shake your head softly before motioning for them to follow.

You, Richie and Stan slowly creep into the back yard, jumping over a short fence and making sure none of the neighbors notice you through the windows. Ben was busy with studies, Mike had expressed no enthusiasm in stealing, Bill and Beverly apologized and said they were planning to go to the movies while Eddie shook his head, nearly violently, and stated that he will never stoop so low and that his mother would kill him if she found out. Richie was in from the get-go. And Stan was the one to invite you.

The pumpkin patch sits silently, one growing bigger than the other, and your eyes glaze over with awe. So orange! So healthy! You haven’t seen such pretty ones in the supermarket and with a wicked grin you glance at the boys.

“Jackpot. Eagle 1 has spotted a goldmine, I repeat, Eagle 1 has spotted a goldmine…” Richie fixes his glasses, rushing to the biggest pumpkin. His fingers dig into its sides and with one swift push upwards he tries to pick it up. You can’t bear to watch his pathetic, though hilarious, attempts, “It’s cool, I don’t need your help, Cerrently Doing That, like at all! You know why—Cuz I’m a real man!” He barely lifts it above ground before dropping it. Losing his balance, Richie stumbles back, “Damn, it’s heavier than Mr. K’s tits.”

You and Stan slowly approach the patch and watch Richie fumble as he picks another, way too heavy, target. You are still unsure why Stan had asked you here. You have noted him go through a change of some sort. Saying and doing things he normally wouldn’t. You can’t help but wonder, and hope, that it’s due to you. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t like Stan – he’s a bit of an asshole, but he’s generally a good and kind person. But he’s safe. If someone had told you that Stan Uris would indulge in theft you would have dismissed that claim immediately.

Yet look at the two of you now. Standing in the shade shoulder to shoulder in pleasant silence with small, dazed smiles gracing each other’s faces and no real sufficient thought in mind. You almost forgot about the reason you even came here and if it wasn’t for Richie’s screaming you porbably would’ve floated away into lalaland. It is getting a bit late and a twinge of worry that the owner will come back soon and give you hell for breaking an entry sparks in your chest. You glance at Stan and then back at Richie, “You think we should go help him?”

“Do we have to?”

You crack a smile, “Well we could just leave him and make a run for it.”

“I think we could still make it in time to see that movie you wanted.”

You gulp. Blink a few times once the cool wind brushes your cheeks, “What?”

Stan finally turns to you, “’Nightmare on Elms Street’, right? You said you wanted to go see it.”

“Oh,” You smile softly, coming to hook your hair behind your ear, “oh, uhm, yes, I did, didn’t I…”

Stan takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, “Don’t worry about having nightmares. Because the only dreams you’ll be having are of me—“

“Holy shit, (Name).” Richie’s voice shakes you, “Beverly told me Stan the Fucking Man was making the moves on you, but I so did not fucking believe her!”


end.


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MC Headcanons

Apparently, @battyhatter and I aren’t allowed to headcanon together, because then we don’t get any sleep.

So, we were talking about the fact that–in all technicality–MC finds the phone with the RFA messenger. Meaning, it’s not actually her phone. So, I made the comment that there were probably instances where the RFA phone would go off and confuse MC. You know, like the whole, but that’s not my phone??? Where are these alerts coming from??????

To say the least, it all went downhill from there. So, in no particular order, here are some of the headcanons we came up with. We were specifically thinking of the 707 route when we were talking about this.

  • at Rika’s apartment, MC loses the RFA phone all the time: leaves it the bathroom, on the coffee table, etc.
  • Seven starts making a personal game out of it
  • “let’s call MC and see how long it takes her to notice it’s the other phone”
  • the first couple of times is funny, but after the fifth or sixth time, he starts yelling at the security footage
  • “MC, it’s under that plastic bag in the kitchen. I can see it glowing. Okay, you’re in the kitchen. Now look to your left. The LEFT gdi.”
  • Seven watching in varying degrees of exasperation and amusement as MC leaves the apartment to get food, only to come back a few seconds later because she forgot her purse
  • MC going into chatrooms and being very forgetful about topics the RFA has discussed, i.e. asking the same questions in three different chats
  • after the Secret Ending, MC moves in with Seven and Saeran, which just adds to the ridiculousness
  • Seven makes a checklist for MC that they keep by the door to try to get her to remember her keys, phone, wallet, etc.
  • the checklists work for a few days, until MC leaves the house without her purse because after she checks everything off, she still manages to leave her purse in the entryway
  • “Watch the step.” “I know. You don’t have to remind every single time.” *trips* *Seven looks into the distance like he’s on The Office*
  • someone save Saeran before he knocks himself unconscious with all the facepalming
  • Saeran gets to the point where he sometimes follows MC to pick up the stuff she drops/forgets in order to slip it back into her purse when she’s not looking
  • the first time, he confused some baristas at the local coffee shop, but they eventually just come to accept it as a part of seeing MC
  • Vanderwood eventually joins in on the “Mother Hen” club that’s going on between the twins about MC’s well-being
  • “You’re hopeless. Here’s your phone, your wallet, your transit money.” “Thanks…” “Seriously, completely hopeless. Now, here’s your lunch for the day. Shoo.”
  • Seven recalibrates his robot cats so that they serve as “living” alerts/reminders for MC
  • “Don’t forget to take your meds, meow!” *distributes the appropriate dosage*
  • and then here comes the irony
  • MC is an event coordinator for her day job, so that’s why she felt so at ease taking over for Rika’s position
  • at work, MC is very detail-oriented, to the point where she can remember everything a client has asked for, down to the smallest detail
  • this also comes into play with her motherly tendencies
  • MC knows everyone else’s schedule - remembers when Jaehee and Jumin are in a meeting, knows when Zen has a big audition coming up, scolds Yoosung when he’s in the chatroom and not in class
  • MC remembers all the little details about the RFA, too - Jaehee’s favorite coffee, Jumin’s favorite wine, the exact level of Yoosung’s LOLOL characters, Zen’s preferred brand of face masks - and is the best gift giver
  • MC: “Make sure you eat a good lunch!” *five seconds later* “…Did I have lunch???”
  • literally everyone questions why she isn’t that meticulous in other aspects of her life
  • Saeran questions his brother’s taste in women, but Seven loves her anyway
  • (though he spends too much time baby-proofing the house because he has a very klutzy gf)
possesive [ darkiplier x reader ]

warnings: this is defo not a healthy relationship bare in mind

a/n: i’m kinda tired. i rly like the ending of this
also! request by anon:  Possessive!Dark x Reader. Where he actually FEELS affectionate towards the reader and he doesn’t like anyone else showing her affection or kindness because he wants her to think that he’s the only one that loves her. He wants her to seek comfort in him so that he can listen to her pain and feelings of rejection and he feeds off of it. And he loves to reassure her that he loves her because he knows that his claws of manipulation will sink deeper into her

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.

There are two sides of him, one might say. One is primarily controlled by logic and cold polished feelings, a strive for success and the masterful art of manipulation. The other, however, one that shows much more often when he’s around you, is the incurable desire for both affection and destruction, love intertwined with hatred and violence mixing with a gentle touch. There is not a doubt in your heart that he loves you – in his own twisted way perhaps, but loves all the same. What you do doubt sometimes is your ability to hold and bear his love, because it is no sweet trip down the river in sunny spring. No. It is more of a stormy night, a bullet being fired or a car speeding down the highway bound to crash. It’s chaotic. Intense. Unstoppable. Destructive.

Ultraviolet, one may even say.

Keep reading

THE NEW GIRL - PP

{request} could u do peter parker having a crush on the new girl at his school and she’s the first girl he’s had a crush on since liz and like everyone really likes the new girl so he thinks he doesn’t have a chance ?? sorry that’s so long but i love ur writing!!

{warnings} none!

{pairing} peter parker x neutral!reader

{bullet count} 13

  • peter parker was not one to get crushes easily, especially not with this whole super hero thing going on
  • but the minute he saw you from across the hallway at school, his breath was taken away
  • it all went downhill from there
  • every time his eyes would catch sight of you, he absolutely lost it
  • one because of how attracted to you he was, and two because he had not felt his stomach leap like that since liz was around, and it brought back some rather rough memories
  • and then, you guys were in the same fucking class
  • and to make things even worse, you were partnered up for a project
  • the minute you sweet voice met his ears, our dear peter fell even farther down that dark hole of young love
  • his hands got shaky, palms sweaty, knees weak, arms spaghetti
  • you noticed, of course, but decided to ignore it
  • peter was cute, yes, but you were here to complete a project, not acquire a boyfriend
  • that thought soon found itself being flung out of the peter’s bedroom window, because boy, was this boy something
  • skip forward a few months, and peter is brandishing you on his arm at the annual end of the year party, a wide grin on his adorable face because he couldn’t be happier with u by his side

anonymous asked:

“It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.“ Damian and Jason (about Tim?)

Here you go Anon! Sorry if it’s not exactly what you were looking for - I set out to write a short angsty piece about Damian feeling guilty about how he’d treated Tim but Bruce got there before me and then Damian ended up hiding under a table and it all went downhill from there. But I hope you get some enjoyment form it anyway :)

Mixing up / ignoring comic timeline is almost a hobby of mine, but this one actually had some contextual thought behind it. Not much but. Basically set sometime after Bruce comes back from the “dead” but no more specific than that…


Damian isn’t hiding, but he could see how it may look that way to someone else. Alfred the cat had fled under the dining room table when the yelling started earlier and when he hadn’t been able to coax him out, Damian had crawled under the table as well. Titus had followed him, sniffing at the carpet and knocking into chair legs with his tail before settling down with a huff. It had seemed much easier to just stay there than try to move both his pets.

Dick and Alfred have both walked past - looking for him, maybe, or more likely just going about their day - but nobody has actually come in yet. Father might have thought to look here, but he doubts Father will search for him. Not while he’s still mad, at least. 

“Hey Alfred!” a voice calls from the direction of the front door. The butler’s reply is muffled by distance and then the voices die off as the conversation moves into one of the Manor’s many rooms - probably the kitchen. Damian wonders who it could be; most visitors come via the cave.

He gets his answer a minute later when light footsteps precede the appearance of two socked feet and a pair of jeans in his vision. Todd is muttering to himself as he walks around the dining table then kneels down to start looking under it. The muttering stops when their eyes meet and Damian lifts his chin defiantly, daring the older boy to make fun of him. But all Todd says is, “Have you seen a pair of sunglasses under here?”

Damian glances at the floor around him and shakes his head. “No.”

“Dammit,” Todd mutters, standing up and almost banging his head on the table. 

“Must be in the kitchen…”

He leaves and Damian let’s out a sigh of relief, relaxing back against Titus’s flank. But it’s short-lived because a moment later Todd comes back in and sets something down on the table before crouching back down.

“You wanna come out?” he asks.

“No.”

“Okay.” His upper body vanishes upward again and when he comes back down he’s holding two mugs. He holds one out. “You want tea?”

Damian hesitates before nodding, reaching out to take the warm mug and cradling it to his chest. Even with the body heat from his pets, it’s remarkably cool under the table. He blows on the hot liquid then takes a cautious sip as Todd sits cross-legged opposite him with his back against the nearest table leg.

“So why are you hiding under a table?” he asks eventually, conversational in a way that grates on Damian’s nerves.

“I’m not hiding,” he snaps.

“Uh-huh. It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of that.“

“I’m not,” Damian insists. “Alfred wouldn’t come out. I had to come under here to get him.”

Todd looks pointedly at where the cat is now curled up in Damian’s lap, purring softly as he’s petted. “Right. And was it loud noises that drove Alfred under the table?”

Damian narrows his eyes. Todd takes a casual sip of his tea. And he knows. He knows exactly why Alfred ran under the table and why Damian is under the table and he just wants him to say it. Well he’s not going to. Damian grits his teeth and glares.

Todd just shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’ll just tell you what the official version is then, shall I?”

It’s blatant manipulation and Damian will not be swayed by it.

“So I was leaving my apartment this morning when I realised I couldn’t find my sunglasses anywhere. I had tea with Alfred yesterday so this is the only other place I could think they might be. And when I arrive, I find out that you and Bruce got into a screaming match this morning which ended with a broken chair and two smashed vases.” He takes a sip of tea - probably for some kind of dramatic effect. "Apparently you threw a 4,000 dollar vase at Dick’s head when he tried to intervene.“ Damian glowers at his shoes and says nothing. Todd pokes him in the leg. “Come on, short fry, spill.”

It suddenly occurs to Damian that not-hiding under the table was a strategically bad move. He’s trapped between Titus and Todd, without anything throwable within reach. And Todd is as annoyingly stubborn as everyone else in the family; he will not let this go.

“Father says I cannot patrol,” Damian eventually mutters.

“That’s it? You started breaking shit because he benched you? Wow. That’s almost me-level crazy.”

“He says I am banned from the Cave until i can find a way to deal with my anger that does not involve violence.”

The older boy snorts. “I hate to agree with B, but he may have a point. The vases I can understand - Lord knows how many of those have been broken since Bruce started collecting strays - but the chair was a bit of an overreaction.”

Damian can feel the anger from earlier simmering beneath his skin but short of throwing his cat at Todd’s head there’s not much he can do besides growl. “You’re such a hypocrite Todd - you tried to kill him first!”

Todd blinks, face scrunching up in surprise before smoothing out with understanding. “We’re not talking about B anymore, are we? This is about the Replacement.”

Damian looks away. His fingers are clenched so tightly around his mug his knuckles are white and his chest is tight with- anger. That’s what it is. Not guilt or regret or- None of the things Father thinks are affecting him. (Although, to be fair, Father does think anger is affecting him as well. And he may not be wrong but. He’s not completely right.)

“Bruce find out you tried to kill him?”

Todd shifts closer, leaning forward so he can reach behind Damian to scratch Titus around the ears. Their arms brush and Damian holds completely still, watching the older boy warily. He and Todd are not enemies, per se, but this… this friendliness is unchartered territory.

“He wants me to apologise,” he says stiffly.

“And you don’t want to." 

"It would not be sincere.”

Todd’s lips quirk upwards but it doesn’t quite become a smile. “That’s not the point.”

Damian frowns, brows furrowing. “Then what is?”

“To teach you a lesson.” Todd shrugs one shoulder, the simple gesture conveying a lot about what he thinks of Bruce’s parenting techniques. “You don’t want to apologise because it would be humiliating, admitting a fault or a weakness. He makes you do it anyway, makes you suffer the indignity of asking for forgiveness. It’s an unpleasant feeling. One you try to avoid in future by not doing whatever you did wrong again.”

“Oh.” When put like that, it makes much more sense. (Some detective he is if he can’t even figure out his Father’s motives.) “So all I have to do to get Robin back is apologise to Drake?”

“It’s a start.” Todd gives Titus one last pat on the head - and an “accidental” one for Damian as well - then scoots backwards until he’s no longer under the table. “Well, hide and seek has been fun, but unlike some members of this family I’m not freakishly short and my spine is not cut out for this kind of contortion.”

“Tt. You’re getting old, Todd.”

He gets a casual middle finger in response, “Respect your elders, Demon Brat.”
“I’m not a Demon!” Damian snarls.

Todd holds his hands up in mocking surrender. “Of course not, my sincerest apologies.” A quick flash of teeth as he grins. “You wanna repeat that back to me? Y'know, for practice.”

His laughter follows him out of the room as Damian scrambles out from under the table and takes off after him. His Father will surely make him apologies for trying to kill Todd as well, but it will surely be worth it to wipe that smirk off his older brother’s face.