and this is the part where i come up with new stupidity

doemerchant  asked:

Hey I was wondering could you list YOI completed fics which are long and good ? "-"

What a great ask! Shoutout to all the amazing fic writers who write full freaking novels for free because they love the show that much. You all do such great work for the fandom and I thank you all so much. Here are some of my favourite  long, completed fics!

Originally posted by things-all-love


Completed Victuuri Fics (Over 40k Words)


all the world’s a stage by braveten, Explicit, 112k
AU where Victor is the the most famous actor in Hollywood and Yuuri is a silver medalist at this year’s GPF… and also has a huge crush on Victor. Yuuri auditions to become his skating coach for a movie with the help of Pitchit and cuteness ensues. Fun, great writing, good plot. Lots of fluff, some angst, and a little bit of smut. Amazing fic!

Home by Kurenaito, Teen, 46k
Three years after the series, Yuuri has retired, and he and Viktor live in America. It’s no secret that Viktor likes to make impulsive decisions. Cute adoption fic! Bonus angsty Yurio..

Melodies Unheard, but Felt All the Same by Watermelonsmellinfellon, Mature, 69k
Yuuri wanted to make history as the first deaf man to win the Grand Prix Final. Of course he’s a little skeptical of Victor Nikiforov’s presence, but Victor proves to be different, and Yuuri appreciates that. Amazing fic that truly shows that love wins, no matter what obstacles face them.

Maelstrom by feelslikefire, Explicit, 43k
Victor Nikiforov is poised to win gold in his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final. He has the world at his feet, is unparalleled in the sport–right up until a snowstorm blows into Sochi, and he finds himself repeating the same day over and over and over. He stumbles over Yuuri Katsuki, and everything changes. THE GROUNDHOG DAY AU!!

On Our Love by LiaoftheDawn, Mature, 46k
The fic where Victor thinks he’s doing the right thing, manages to disappoint all the Yuris in his life, and still everything works out at the end. LOVE this fic… I’m sobbing…

like your french girls by ebenroot, Teen, 102k
in which Victor is an artist, Yuuri is his figure skating muse, and Yuri is so done hearing about their stupid love story through Instagram. Great artist AU fic with lots pining Victor and fluffy scenes!

Between us by Vitavili, Mature, 169k
Love hurts. Love heals. Sometimes it’s really easy to love. Sometimes it feels like hell. You can forget to love yourself because you are too busy with loving someone else. Stunning fic with heavy angst but a happy ending.

Yuuri!!! on Floor by thehandsingsweapon, Not Rated, 67k
The gymnastics edition, in which Viktor is still a skater. A story about how sometimes love comes slow and soft, and how hearts get bigger when they break. Great gymnastics AU!

Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by Reiya, Explicit, 197k
Rivals AU where Yuuri’s main goal, ever since he was a child, is to beat Victor and win the GPF. SO MUCH ANGST (like, so much) and deliciously hot, hot, hot! You might die from reading this… it’s that good. Thumbs up!

Standard Deviations by JustBeHappy, Teen, 82k
Victor knew something was wrong when he woke up. Firstly, Yuuri wasn’t by his side in bed. Secondly, the wallpapers weren’t supposed to be blue. Great time travel AU!

Beside the Dancing Sea by lily_winterwood, MapleTreeway, Explicit, 186k
New York Times-bestselling author Viktor Nikiforov arrives in the sleepy seaside town of Torvill Cove to cure his writer’s block. After encountering local wallflower Yuuri Katsuki at a party, he discovers that this mysterious dark-haired man has a couple secrets up his sleeve. And Viktor will be damned if he doesn’t find out just what those secrets are. LOVE this fic!

Love So Life by shamarmon, Teen, 114k
Yuuri Katsuki was simply living his college life, teaching ice skating lessons to little kids, when suddenly his idol and champion figure skater Victor Nikiforov bursts in and requests that he start babysitting his three year old nephew, Yuri Plisetsky. Yuuri finds himself growing to be a part of their family and helping them work through their complicated family issues. Super cute!

lie to make me like you by cityboys, Mature, 80k
Victor is a retired actor looking for love, and Yuuri happens to be the (un)fortunate soul to unwittingly ask him out at the beginning of the month. Except relationships don’t come with a script, and it’s much harder understanding love than roles. Awesome actor AU!

Until You Return to Me by BatMads, Teen, 113k
Yuuri and Victor are in St. Petersburg together at last, but when Yuuri has difficulty adjusting to the transition and tragedy strikes, it seems as though they may be separated forever. Now they struggle to find their way back to each other when the universe seems to conspire against a happy ending. THE SLOWEST BURN FIC YOU WILL EVER READ OMFGDHFSDK

Please Have Mercy On Me by all_those_big_ass_trees, Explicit, 85k
Viktor’s been living with Yuuri for a month now, but Yuuri is still not used to him. But Viktor is a good teacher, and Yuuri is a good student. Love!

centripetal force by braveten, Explicit, 85k
Victor speaks seven languages. (Physics isn’t one of them.) Luckily, though, he ends up rooming with his antithesis: a shy, black-haired boy who just so happens to be a physics major. I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH

No Less Unthinkable by rageprufrock, Explicit, 79k
In which Katsuki Yuuri fights a losing battle with chronic anxiety, the quadruple Salchow, and his own judgment four drinks in — but wins the war. Stunning fic!

pick lilacs for the passing time by astralelegies, Teen, 68k
In which the outlandish prodigy Victor Nikiforov hits Yuuri’s life like a whirlwind after he transfers to a prestigious ballet conservatory in Moscow, two grumpy teenagers learn to be friends, and Mila’s Straight Girl CrushTM might not be so straight after all. 

An Intangible Force of Motion by doeinstinct, Teen, 76k
The new season is in full-swing, and Viktor is realizing just how much work it is to coach and compete, but the exhilaration is worth it. The pain in his leg is probably just from overworking. Probably. So sad but so good.

Call Everything on the Ice… by shysweetthing, 50k
Victor learns Japanese while in Hasetsu. He doesn’t tell Yuuri, and things get dicey when he overhears Yuuri and Mari talking about him in Japanese. Repeatedly. ONE OF MY FAVOURITE FICS EVER

starstruck by shizuoh, Teen, 58k
In which yuuri is a simple barista, viktor is a famous movie star, and yuri is an 8 year old kid stuck in the middle of it. I adore this fic!

matched by bigspoonnoya, Explicit, 52k
Viktor Nikiforov considers himself an excellent matchmaker, but there’s one love life he can’t seem to get right: his own.

A white guy’s thoughts on “Get Out” and racism

This weekend, I went to see a horror movie. It got stuck in my head, and now I can’t stop thinking about it—but not for any of the reasons you might think.

The movie was Jordan Peele’s new hit Get Out, which has gotten rave reviews from critics—an incredible 99% on Rotten Tomatoes—and has a lot of people talking about its themes.

First of all, I should tell you that I hate horror movies. As a general rule, I stay far, far away from them, but after everything I’d read, I felt like this was an important film for me to see. This trailer might give you some inkling as to why:

Creepy, huh? You might know writer/director Jordan Peele as part of the comedy duo Key & Peele, known for smartly tackling societal issues through sketch comedy. Get Out is a horror movie, but it’s also a film about race in America, and it’s impressively multilayered.

I left the theater feeling deeply disturbed but glad this movie was made. I can’t say any more without revealing spoilers, so if you haven’t seen the movie yet and you don’t want to have the plot spoiled for you, stop reading now and come back later.

Seriously, this is your last chance before I give away what happens.

Okay, you were warned. Here we go.

Our protagonist is Chris Washington, a young black man who has been dating Rose Armitage, a young white woman, for the last four months. She wants him to meet her family, but he’s hesitant. She acknowledges that her dad can be a little awkward on the subject of race, but assures Chris that he means well.

After unnerving encounters with a deer (echoes of The Invitation) and a racist cop, Chris and Rose arrive at the Armitages’ estate. On the surface, the Armitages are very friendly, but the conversation (brilliantly scripted by Peele) includes a lot of the little, everyday, get-under-your-skin moments of racism that people of color have to contend with: Rose’s dad going on about how he voted for Obama, for instance, and asking how long “this thang” has been going on. Chris laughs it off to be polite, though he clearly feels uncomfortable.

There’s a fantastic moment here, by the way, when Rose’s dad offhandedly mentions that they had to close off the basement because of “black mold.” In the midst of the racially charged atmosphere of the conversation, it’s nearly impossible not to take this as a racial remark, and Chris certainly notices, but what could he possibly say about it? Black mold is a real thing; his girlfriend would surely think he was crazy and oversensitive if he said it sounded racist. Chris never reacts to the remark, but that one tiny moment is a reminder to the audience of a real problem people of color often face, when racism can’t be called out without being accused of “playing the race card” or seeing things that aren’t there. (Incidentally, it turns out that the basement is actually used for molding of a different sort.)

There are other reasons for Chris to be unsettled: The only other black people on the estate are two servants, Georgina and Walter (Rose’s dad says he knows how bad it looks, but that it’s not what it seems), and something is clearly “off” about them. Later, more white people show up—and one more black character, and he, too, feels “off.”

By the end of the film, we learn the horrible secret: Rose’s family is kidnapping and luring black people to their estate, where they’re being hypnotized and psychologically trapped inside themselves—Rose’s mom calls it “the sunken place”—so that old or disabled white people’s consciousnesses can be transplanted into their bodies. The white people are then able to move about, controlling their new black bodies, with the black person’s consciousness along for the ride as a mere “passenger.” In a shocking twist, it turns out that even apparently-sweet Rose is in on the plot, and Chris must fight her and the rest of her family to escape.

This isn’t a “white people are evil” film, although it may sound that way at first, but it is a film about racism. I know many of my friends of color will connect with this movie in a way I can’t, so I won’t try to say what I think they’ll get out of it. I do want to say how I connected with it, though, because I think what Jordan Peele has done here is really important for white audiences. 

If you look beyond the surface horror-movie plot, this film actually gives white people a tiny peek at the reality of racism—not the epithet-shouting neo-Nazi kind of racism that white people normally imagine when we hear “racism,” but the “Oh it’s so nice to meet you; I voted for Obama” kind of racism, the subtle othering that expects people of color to smile and get along and adopt white culture as their own whenever they’re around white people.

So many of the moments in Get Out are clearly intended to work on multiple levels. When Chris confronts Georgina about something being wrong and she smiles and says, “No, no no no no no,” with tears streaming down her cheeks, the symbolism is blatant. How often do people of color have to ignore the subtle indignities they face and hide their true emotions in order to avoid coming across as, for example, “the angry black woman/man”? How many times do they find themselves in social situations—even with their closest white friends!—where people make little comments tying them to an “exotic,” supposedly monolithic culture, where they have to respond with a smile and a laugh instead of telling people how stupid and offensive they’re being? 

I can’t tell you the number of these stories I’ve heard from my friends, and I’m quite sure that the stories I’ve heard are only a tiny fraction of the stories that could be told. So there’s something in that moment that speaks volumes about the experiences of people of color in America.

The same is true for so many other moments. The black characters Chris meets at the Armitages’ have all symbolically given up their identities and conformed to white culture; when Chris meets one character, he turns out to be going under a new name, with new clothes and new mannerisms; when Chris offers him a fist bump, he tries to shake Chris’s fist. Again, within the story, there’s an explanation for all this, but every moment here is also about assimilation and culture differences. 

For me as a white audience member, all of these moments did something remarkable: They showed me my own culture—a culture I’m often blissfully unaware of because it’s all around me—as something alien. They reminded me that I, too, have a culture, and that expecting everyone else to assimilate to my culture is just as much an erasing of their identities as it would be to expect me to assimilate to someone else’s culture.

And that’s a big part of what Get Out is about—the erasing of identities, and the power of racism to destroy people. I think it’s really significant that racism is portrayed here very differently from how it’s normally portrayed in movies written by white people. In most Hollywood movies, you know a character is racist because they shout racial epithets or make blatant statements about a certain race’s inferiority. That allows white audiences to say, “I would never do/say that, so I’m not racist!” We really don’t want to think we are.

But notice something important about Get Out’s treatment of racism: This is a film about the literal enslavement of black people—racism doesn’t get more extreme than that—and yet Peele doesn’t go for the obvious by having the white characters admit that they think black people are inferior; instead, they subjugate and dehumanize people by claiming to admire things about them. They turn them into fashion accessories. 

When Chris asks why only black people are being targeted for this procedure, the response is telling: It’s not (supposedly) because the white characters think African Americans are bad, but rather, because they like certain things about them and they want “a change” for themselves. They want to become black—it’s trendy, we’re told!—but without having had any of the actual life experiences or history of African Americans. White people need to see this: to experience the ways in which Chris is othered by people who tell him all the things they like about him—isn’t he strong? Look at those muscles! Does he play golf like Tiger Woods? And he must be well-endowed and have such sexual prowess, right, Rose?

The white people in the audience need to be reminded that just because you’re saying positive things about someone doesn’t mean you’re not being racist, that turning someone into an exotic “other” may not be the same as shouting an epithet, but it’s still taking away someone’s identity and treating them as a commodity.

The film is filled with these kinds of moments. When we realize that Rose’s white grandmother has inhabited the body of Georgina, the fact that she keeps touching her own hair and admiring herself in the mirror takes on a whole new level of significance. (White people, please don’t ask to touch your black friends’ hair.) When Chris connects with a dying deer on the side of the road and later sees a deer head mounted on the wall at the Armitages’ estate, the symbolism is hard to miss. Black people are being turned into trophies in this house. And, oh yeah, they’re being literally auctioned off—as they were in real life in the not-too-distant past.

One day, I’d like to see the film again to pick up on all the ways things read differently the second time through. I noticed several things in retrospect that gain new significance once you know the ending, and I’m sure there’s a lot I didn’t notice. For example, Rose’s dad says he hired Walter and Georgina to care for his parents, and when his parents died, “I couldn’t bear to let them go.” The first time you see the film, it sounds like the “them” is Walter and Georgina. But in retrospect, it’s clear the “them” he couldn’t bear to let go was his parents, so he sacrificed Walter and Georgina for them. Which, again, is an example of how the supposed care of the white characters for the black characters (his care for Walter and Georgina, Rose’s care for Chris) is really all about caring for themselves and treating the black characters as completely interchangeable objects.

The message of the film isn’t simply that the black characters are “good” and the white characters are “bad.” There are presumably—hopefully—many good white people in the world of this film, and many others who wouldn’t do what the Armitages are doing but also probably wouldn’t believe Chris or make the effort to stop it. Peele’s mother and wife are both white, so he’s clearly not trying to paint all white people as villains. 

But I admit, as a white guy, I really, really wanted Rose to be good. I’ve been the white person in an interracial relationship introducing my black boyfriend to my family. I’ve been that. So I related to Rose, and I really wanted to believe that she was well-intentioned and just oblivious; even though she misses the mark on several occasions, there are times that she seems like she gets it and she really does listen to Chris. When a cop asks to see Chris’s ID early in the film even though he wasn’t driving, Rose stands up against the obvious racism, showing us all what it looks like for white people to do the right thing. “That was hot,” Chris says to her later, and I thought, yeah, that’s who I want to be.

So I have to admit, it was really upsetting to me to see Rose, the only good white character left in the film, turn out to be evil. But I realized that part of that is that I really wanted her to represent me, and that’s really the point. Just think how often horror films have only one black character who dies early on, and how many films of all genres have no significant black characters for audience members to look up to or identify with. I think it’s really important for white audiences to experience that.

As I’ve reflected on the film, it seems to me like there are three kinds of popular movies about people of color. There are those that feature POC characters that are essentially indistinguishable from the white characters—as if they just decided to cast Morgan Freeman instead of Tom Hanks without giving any thought to the character’s race. Then there are the movies that deal with racism, but in a way that allows white people to feel good about ourselves, because we’re not like the characters in the film. (This is especially true for movies about racism in the past; some of them are very important films, like Hidden Figures, which I loved, but we need to be aware that it’s still easy for white America to treat it as a feel-good film and think that we’re off the hook because we no longer have separate restrooms.) And finally, there are movies that focus more directly on the lives of people of color but tend to draw largely audiences of color; not many white people go see them, because we think they’re not “for us” (even though we assume films about white people are for everyone).

Get Out isn’t any of those. It’s drawing a broad audience but it’s not afraid to make white people uncomfortable. And if you can give me, a white guy, a chance to have even a momentary fraction of an experience of the real-life, modern-day, casual racism facing people of color in America, I think that’s a very good thing.

kicking you out

for the anon who asked for a groupchat celebrity au with twitter. ik this isn’t exactly what you asked for, but i will do a proper celebrity au one day. probably. dedicated to my wife @jiilys bc she deserves all this and more


James Potter (@jimsradio) tweeted: thanks for tuning in last night! check us out next week when we’ll be discussing whether sand dollars should be a viable form of currency

Sirius Black (@blacksheep) retweeted: james no one cares about ur stupid fuckign radio show

James Potter (@jimsradio) retweeted: ur the co-host

Sirius Black (@blacksheep) retweeted: i dont see how thats a relevant piece of information


Remus Lupin (@remuslupout) tweeted: @jimsradio why do you have pine trees listed as your topic for next week

James Potter (@jimsradio) retweeted: why not

James Potter (@jimsradio) retweeted: theyr an important part of our capitalist, consumer-driven society

Remus Lupin (@remuslupout) retweeted: is this just because you couldn’t come up with a better topic

James Potter (@jimsradio) retweeted: r u insinuating that i had no ideas and decided on pine trees bc there happens to be one outside peters bedroom window

Remus Lupin (@remuslupout) retweeted: yes

James Potter (@jimsradio) retweeted: fair


James Potter to radioheads: how about we have remus as our special guest next week

Sirius Black: i have legitimately never heard of a worse idea

Remus Lupin: good luck driving yourself to the lido next week then dickhead

Sirius Black: i already lost that job

Remus Lupin: why am i not surprised

Sirius Black: jokes on u lupin, ur the one who’s been driving me 40 minutes out of your way every morning for nothing

Remus Lupin: fucker


Remus Lupin to James Potter: we need more advertising

James Potter: ?? we have plenty of advertising

Remus Lupin: we have the same ad for your dad’s hair gel playing every break on a ten minute loop

James Potter: ?? what’s ur point


Peter Pettigrew to james you know i love monty but we need more advertising: guys 2, 141 people listened in last week

Remus Lupin: are you kidding

James Potter: result!!!!

Sirius Black: was that the one where we talked about freaks & geeks conspiracy theories

Remus Lupin: no that was the one where you talked about crunchy chips vs squishies

Remus Lupin: do you even listen to the show

Sirius Black: im the co-host thank you very much

Remus Lupin: could’ve fooled me

Sirius Black has removed Remus Lupin from the chat.


Sirius Black (@blacksheep) tweeted: @petepettigrew i still cant believe u prefer squishies to crunchies

Peter Pettigrew (@petepettigrew) retweeted: what?? theyr more flavoursome


James Potter to Sirius Black: remus has been our special guest for the past five episodes i think we need someone new

Sirius Black: what about pete

James Potter: pete does sound

Sirius Black: then get someone else to do sound

James Potter: u, my friend, are a genius


James Potter (@jimsradio) tweeted: we need someone with tech experience to do our sound booth pls and thank


Peter Pettigrew to fifa plays would make a shitty topic: I thought I was sound technician??

James Potter: u can still be sound technician we’re just having u as our special guest

Sirius Black: im not sure i can handle having a special guest who thinks squishies r better than crunchies

James Potter: ??? u were the one who suggested pete in the first place

Sirius Black: i was?? funny that

Peter Pettigrew: i hate u all


Lily Evans (@liljane) tweeted: @jimsradio i have two years worth of tech experience and can do friday evenings if ur still looking for a sound technician


James Potter to shitdick central™: holy shit check out the chick who just applied for techie

Peter Pettigrew: who is she

Remus Lupin: lily evans

Remus Lupin: she had her own radio show a couple of years back with this really awful guy

Remus Lupin: it was really popular

Peter Pettigrew: the radio show or the guy

Remus Lupin: ?? the radio show

Remus Lupin: the guy turned out to be a massive racist

Remus Lupin: in her last interview she called him ‘an abusive fuckface’

Sirius Black: i say we hire her

James Potter: seconded


Remus Lupin to James Potter: is the only reason you want to hire her is because you think she’s hot

James Potter: do you really think i’m that shallow

Remus Lupin: yes


James Potter (@jimsradio) tweeted: @liljane you’re hired. i’ll dm you the details


Sirius Black to i’m not shallow remus i just have an appreciation for the finer things in life: i cant believe that you both literally and figuratively slid into her dm’s

James Potter: im blocking u


James Potter to what the fuck is an aardvark anyway: that went rather well if you ask me

Sirius Black: ?? it was a fucking atrocity

Sirius Black: you were staring at her the whole time

James Potter: no i wasn’t

Remus Lupin: you missed five of your queues

James Potter: ok, so maybe i was a little off

Sirius Black: there were more awkward silences than that one time peter tried to pick up rosmerta at the three broomsticks

Peter Pettigrew: you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again!!

Sirius Black: sry pete, desperate times call for desperate measures


James Potter (@jimsradio) tweeted: make sure to check us out at our new time of 7:00pm fridays!!

Sirius Black (@blacksheep) retweeted: you do realise no-one actually watches this show

Lily Evans (@liljane) retweeted: he’s right you know

James Potter (@jimsradio) retweeted: i hate both of u


Lily Evans to James Potter: can u stop making jokes about lamps

James Potter: i don’t know what u filamean


Peter Pettigrew to wes anderson is better than quentin taratino and you know it james: ALMOST 10K PEOPLE LISTENED IN LAST NIGHT

James Potter: HOLY SHIT

Lily Evans: james u owe me $50 and your 1st edition copy of the great gatsby

James Potter: i’d rather die

Lily Evans: then die, jim

Remus Lupin: christ

Sirius Black: u called??

Peter Pettigrew: what even is this group chat


James Potter to Lily Evans: was that u tearing up i saw in the sound booth when i was reading out my piece about foreshadowing in the simpsons

Lily Evans: i was tearing up over how bad it was

Lily Evans: there was something in my eye

Lily Evans: i think it was your complete lack of a writing style

James Potter: stop it


Lily Evans (@liljane) tweeted: petition to kick sirius out of the group chat bc he won’t stop talking about scooby doo conspiracy theories at 3am

Sirius Black (@blacksheep) retweeted: i can scooby do what i want

Lily Evans (@liljane) retweeted: blocked


James Potter to Sirius Black: WHERE ARE YOU WE’RE ON IN 5

James Potter: sirs

James Potter: where r you

Sirius Black: ran in tp regulus at the cineplex

James Potter: where are you now

Sirius Black: field next to cneplex

James Potter: don’t move


James Potter (@jimsradio) tweeted: sorry that there was no show this week folks!! sirius got mauled by a bear and i had to drive up to toronto to help amputate his right arm

Remus Lupin (@remuslupout) retweeted: @jimsradio who’s going to wank you off now

Sirius Black (@blacksheep) retweeted: @remuslupout bitch im left-handed


Sirius Black to velma, daphne and fred: i’m sure evans would do it for you james

Lily Evans: you want to lose the other arm black


Peter Pettigrew to cry me a river lupin: maybe we should make our group chats accessible to the public to get more hits

James Potter: i would but no one wants to see screenshots of sirius in a bra

Sirius Black: by no-one do you mean everyone


James Potter (@jimsradio) tweeted: thank you guys so much for 20k hits the other night!! more content coming


Sirius Black to bitches bitchin: GRAHAM NORTON TONIGHT BITCHES

Lily Evans: are you sober

Sirius Black: am i ever sober

Lily Evans: good point


James Potter to sirius stop changing the group chat name while graham is in the middle of asking you questions: i think that went well

Lily Evans: james im leaving you for graham norton

Sirius Black: not if i leave him first


Severus Snape (@halfbloodprince) tweeted: @jimsradio feel like keeping your hands off my co-host you wanker??


James Potter to i haven’t been able to listen to eyes on fire by blue foundation since they played it over bella and ryan’s scene in eyewitness: how are we gonna handle this

James Potter: my vote is firmly rooted in manslaughter

Lily Evans: leave it to me

Lily Evans: but keep manslaughter as a backup


Lily Evans (@liljane) tweeted: @halfbloodprince i wonder what it’d be like to not be so ridiculously self-involved as to impose yourself where you’re strictly not wanted?

Lily Evans (@liljane) tweeted: @halfbloodprince stay out of my life or you’ll be receiving numerous calls from my lawyer


Lily Evans to manslaughter: yes or no: its sorted

Sirius Black: you don’t even have a lawyer

Lily Evans: he doesn’t know that


James Potter to Lily Evans: whats a rlly interesting and extensive subject we could cover this week

Lily Evans: milk

James Potter: excellent


Lily Evans to tangled is so much better than frozen: im at the studio and i have liquor

Sirius Black: be there in 5

Peter Pettigrew: can u pick me up

Sirius Black: McNo™

Remus Lupin: i regret the day i gave u that keyboard shortcut

Sirius Black: i dont


James Potter to Lily Evans: r u ok

Lily Evans: fine just sistet stuff

James Potter: u sound trashed

Lily Evans: thsts bc i Am

James Potter: where r u

Lily Evans: blcony

Lily Evans: jim

Lily Evans: can u tak e me hpme

Lily Evans: jaems

Lily Evans: i love you


Lily Evans to James Potter: what did i say last night

James Potter: nothing its fine

James Potter: don’t worry about it

Lily Evans: i am worried about it

James Potter: don’t be

James Potter: see you at work


Remus Lupin to James Potter: whats goin on between u two

James Potter: ???

Remus Lupin: you know what i mean

Remus Lupin: you keep looking at her and looking away

Remus Lupin: she keeps forgetting to give you your queues

James Potter: probably distracted by that hickey on your neck

Remus Lupin: i TOLD you i FELL OVER


Lily Evans (@liljane) tweeted: thank you guys so much for 100k! i’ve made @jimsradio promise to change his username if we make it to 1mil in the next two months

Sirius Black (@blacksheep) retweeted: he should change it to @wanker

Lily Evans (@liljane) retweeted: i checked its already taken by @halfbloodprince


Sirius Black to james potter and co: can you and evans stop eye-fucking during the sets

James Potter changed the chat name to i dont know what you’re talking about.

Sirius Black changed the chat name to yes u do.

James Potter changed the chat name to do not.

Sirius Black changed the chat name to do too.

James Potter changed the chat name to do not.

Remus Lupin: you guys know she’s getting all of these right

James Potter: shit


Lily Evans to James Potter: u have something u want to tell me

James Potter: i’d rather do it in person,,,,,if thats ok

Lily Evans: only if we announce our engagement during a set

James Potter: deal


James Potter (@jimsradio) tweeted: we hit 1mil! also @liljane and i are fucking

Remus Lupin (@remuslupout) retweeted: about time

Sirius Black (@blacksheep) retweeted: you don’t say

Remus Lupin (@remuslupout) retweeted: i do say

Peter Pettigrew (@petepettigrew) retweeted: im blocking both of u

Lily Evans (@liljane) retweeted: r u gonna hold up your end of the bargain @jimsradio

James Potter changed his username to @lilandjimsradio.

Lily Evans (@liljane) retweeted: nice

Yuri on Ice 2017/02/11 all night event report

I’m back from the event and I’ll write a report before going to sleep, mostly because I’m sure I will not be able to decipher my scribbles when I wake up… It’s not the full talk show since you can’t record it and also I couldn’t possibly write down everything, but I tried to take note of most things, especially stuff that has never been mentioned elsewhere. In the end it became quite long so I guess I was able to get most of the stuff down…

Needless to say it’s my notes, so other people might write about parts I omitted, etc. To be honest quite a few of the things they said especially in the beginning, like what the seiyuu think about their characters, is something I’ve read so many times in interviews that I could almost answer in their place, lol… I was a bit disappointed that one of the questions that was answered is the one about Chris’ mysterious acquaintance, because actually Kubo answered that in Pash already (it’s in the Q&A part I’ll be translating later), and I hoped they would feature questions about stuff that hasn’t been explained yet. Well I guess not everybody reads interviews, but still…

Due to the format of the report you can find my comments here and there, mostly in brackets.
Under the cut because it’s long.

I forgot to mention something important: the ones participating in the talk show were Mitsurou Kubo, Toshiyuki Toyonaga (Yuuri), Junichi Suwabe (Victor), Kouki Uchiyama (Yurio).

Keep reading

Stay for the night

So… I had this idea earlier today and I’ve been working on it since 3PM. I hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think! Lots of love, B xx

The house is empty and silent, much different than when you first arrived and the last bottles of beer and wine have been tossed in the bin just outside of Harry’s kitchen. You’ve managed to tidy things up a bit, make the house less messy than when his drunk guests left almost half an hour ago and now, after washing your hands from the sticky remnants of beer that got all over them while you cleaned up, you can finally try and find him and bid your goodbyes.

When you do find him, he’s sitting on his couch, legs spread open and a hand resting on his tummy, his head tipped back and resting against the back of the couch, a frown on his forehead and his lips pressed in a tight line - if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s fighting nausea but you know the truth. You know he’s just about to pass out and sleep for the rest of the night on his couch and the only thing he’s waiting for is for you to leave - he’s too much of a gentleman to let you just leave without saying goodbye.

Smiling, you stand between his legs, one knee resting on the small bit of the couch that’s available and you lean forward, hand reaching for the curls that fall across his forehead, your fingers pushing it back in a slow rub against his scalp and he hums in appreciation of the gesture.

“Everyone’s gone.” You inform him, thumb smoothing across the frown lines on his forehead and he relaxes under your touch, his face turning softer, his lips opening around a sigh of contentment. “I’ve cleaned up so you don’t have to do it tomorrow.”

“Didn’t have to.” He says and you can see his sleepy green eyes open to glare at you, but the effect of his intended angry stare is just a grumpy and pouty, too sleepy to look menacing stare. “‘M a grown man, can do my own cleaning.”

“Know you are…” You giggle, cupping his face in one of your hands and rubbing your thumb across his pouty lips. “Just wanted to help.”

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Pre-Kerberos! Matt HC

[Pre-Kerberos! Matt]

★ Matt is the whitest of the whites, he eats one hot chip and it’s game over.

★ He’s allergic to pickles

★ He got Katie into aliens and cryptids

  • He doesn’t regret it                                                                             

★ Him and Shiro were friends, even before the Garrison.

★ He’s a little shit, the Garrison teachers expected him to be the perfect student since he was Sam and Colleen’s son.

  • They were wrong, he started a black market and wasn’t found out until it was too late. He made more than $500 bucks cash.

★ Whenever he was called into the office to talk about his future he just answered with “Kick ass, go to space, represent the human race.”

The cost of losing a bet with him was high

  • Once a kid had to go up to Iverson and ask if he was a furry and if his boyfriend was bigfoot.
  • They were required to help Iverson for the rest of the year during their free hour.

★ Anytime anyone asked if him and Shiro were dating, he did finger guns and awkwardly backed away.

★ Has been the cause of the science lab blowing up at least 5 times.

  • Shiro was apart of three of them.

★ Puns were his shit no one could escape

  • Shiro does this make us…..Kerbros?”
  • “If it weren’t for the laws of this land, I would’ve slaughtered you, Matt.”

★ Would fight you if you said Pluto wasn’t a planet

★ Is the most oblivious of people, two kids had a crush on him at the same time and he never noticed

  • But he can somehow notice when people have crushes on each other??

★ He met Neil Degrasse Tyson once and cried

★ Katie and him show their love by roasting each other on the daily

★ “I know you love those peas, Dad.” was only the tip of the Yikesburg™ .

★ He dyed Shiro’s hair once

  • It went as well as expected
  • It was neon blue

★ He smuggled Pidge into the Garrison once with the help of Shiro

  • Keith found them dragging her through the window
  • He just stared silently and walked away

★ He can do a perfect Yoda impression

  • Katie sadly found out when she on the verge of sleep at 3am

★ Subs always liked him for some reason, no one really knew how or why though.

★ He could name all 206 bones in the human body, and he taught Keith how to break every one of them

★ Katie popped out the lens in his back-up prescription glasses

  • He cried

★ He can quote back to the future word for word

★ “What are you gonna do punch me???”

  • The kid decked him
  • He broke their leg

★ He threatened to sell Katie to the Garrison for a pizza

  • A guy’s gotta do what they gotta do to get some decent food

★ “How’d you do in your flight test, Matt?” “Oh, I nearly killed Shiro. it’s chill though.”

★ He cries whenever he sees dogs since the Garrison is in the middle of nowhere

  • He once cried for more dog deaths in three school days than his entire life

★ “Hey Matt, high-five the stars for me okay?” “Of course, Katie.”

  • She hasn’t found out if he did or not.

★ It was his idea to name their dog Gunther

  • “What the fuck, Matt” “It haS CHARACTER KATIE”

★ Him and his mom are kickass together.

  • Everyone is low-key terrified of them

★ He crashed his bike into a tree once

  • “Lol you guys will never guess what happened”
  • “What”
  • “My bone is no longer in my leg”

★ “Do you think Iverson and—” “I’m gonna stop you right there.”

★ He hacked the speakers in the Garrison to play Bill Nye the Science Guy when someone said he wasn’t a real scientist

★ Believes in the multiverse theory and soulmates

  • Maybe in some other universe him and Shiro are happy

★ He’s pan and poly, fight me   

  • Katie got him a shirt that read “Pans for Bigfoot”    
  • He wore it everywhere

★ He finished the office in a week and stares at a security camera whenever something stupid happens

★ Someone confessed to him once and he panicked and said “Thank you”

★ Matt is actually a super good crossdresser???

  • Shiro and Keith are surprised???
  • Katie had to get it from somewhere y’all

★ Lowkey likes to make fun of Keith for being Texan

  • “Y’all’d’ve done good if y’all had listened to me.”
  •  “I hate living because of you, Matt.”

★ Bill Nye the Science Guy is his dad and you can’t tell him otherwise.

  • He’ll fight you if you say he isn’t a real Scientist

★ MATT REALLY LIKES AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER, LIKE I HAVEN’T EVEN SEEN IT BUT I KNOW HE DOES.

★ Him and Katie learned Latin for kicks

★ Speaks fluent meme

★ **Drops one piece of candy on his room floor** “,,,,,,,,” **Kneels down to look for it**

★ 10/10 doesn’t know how to handle any crushes he has

  • He realized he had a crush on Shiro with the “help” of Katie and Keith
  • He tried to eat an entire jar of pickles afterwards

★ “Matt, you have a crush on my brother, admit it” “New glasses, who dis?”

★ “Shiro, when I was your age,,,,,,” “One day, you’re just not going to wake up.”

★ He somehow convinced Shiro to dress up as Watson while he was Sherlock

★ Hamilton’s number 1 fan

★ He spits out facts at random

  • “Y’know Alexander Hamilton spelt Philadelphia wrong in our Constitution?” 
  • Katie, who has been running on 3 hours of sleep: please shut tf up

★ “You’re a little shit Matt” “Atleast I don’t quote Fairy Tail any chance i get”

★ Matt: THIS BITCH EMPTY 
★ Katie, grabbing his backpack full of assignments from the Garrison: Y E E T

★ He hates coffee but will drink 5 cans of soda in an hour

★ “YOOOOO I TELL YOU WHAT I WANT WHAT I REALLY WANT” “SO TELL ME WANT WHAT YOU REALLY WANT” “I WANNA–”

  • Sam Holt voice: Please,,,,just go to sleep”

★ He’s a Gryffindor

★ Someone bet him that he couldn’t eat 2 of the new Grand Macs

  • He ate 4, Katie ate 5
  • Everyone was impressed and low-key terrified

★ Shiro: bro take off your glasses
★ Matt: bro everything’s a blur
★ Shiro: that’s my life without you
 Matt, tearfully: Bro… 

Iverson: any questions?
Matt: Yeah, first of all, how dare you?

★ “Would you slap Katie for $2,000?” “I’d break both of Katie’s arms and my own leg for a small fry from McDonald's”

★ Shiro gave him one of his sweaters when it was cold out once

  • Shiro hasn’t seen it since

★ He had an emo phase that lasted 2 months before he got tired of the eyeliner

  • Katie likes to bring it up at the worst times

He’s covered in bandaids 90% of the time

  • Most times it’s because he and Katie were fucking around while building smth

★ “The amount of uses for a dead horse is infinite” “Matt, honestly, just go to church”

★ His mind is just a constant loop of that scene in VeggieTales where the realized they didn’t have hands and just sadly looked at each other

★ “KATIE POKEMON PIDGEOTTO HOLT

★ Mashed potatoes can and should fuck him up

★ Learned to play the kazoo for meme opportunity

★ Once burnt off one of his eyebrows from boiling water

★ Him and Katie do the handshake thing from Zack and Cody

★ Whenever someone asks to see a picture of Katie, he just pulls out a picture of Pidgey from Pokémon

  • Matt: Isn’t she pretty?

★ He beat every island in poptropica

★ He can make really nice flower crowns nobody has questioned it

★ He talks with his hands a lot

  • He’s hit Keith in the face more than once because of it

★ You know when it snowed in Egypt for the first time in years and that guy had that giant ass snowball and was gonna fucking dunk it on his friend?

  • That’s Matt

★ He can dance?? Where did he learn it? Nobody knows

★ “Keith I came as soon as i heard! I can’t believe it I knew you two were close”
★“Wtf are you talking about?”
★“Punk is dead, Keith”

★ When the rumour that MCR was coming back you bet your ass Matt was ready to blast every song whenever he saw Keith

★ “I’m Matt, the radar technician”

★ He recreated BB-8 from Star Wars: The Force Awakens and cried

★ “Bitch, I am a gift of God, square up”

  • Get it? Because Matthew means gift of God??

★ He can solve a rubix cube behind his back in under 35 seconds

★ If he laughs hard enough he’ll start snorting

  • 50% of the time he won’t notice because he’s too busy laughing
  • The other 50% he’ll stop and frown in disgust at his own snort

★ He found out Shiro poured his milk in before the cereal and kicked him out their dorm

Matt: Hey, Shiro, want to stay for dinner?
Colleen: Do you want to stay forever?

★ Iverson lowkey reminds him of Snape, so by default he just doesn’t like him

★ “Work, work!” “Matthew!”
    “Work, work!” “Katherine!”
    “,,,,,and Keith”
    “The conspiracy theorists!”

★ Unlike his sister, he likes to garden and starts one in their backyard with their mom

★ Matt would totally force Shiro to cosplay Team Rocket for Halloween with Pidge being Meowth and Keith being an edgier version of Ash Ketchum

  • Shiro as Jessie and Matt as James of course

★ He owns every pokemon game in existence

  • Pokemon Snap was his shit when he was like 7
  • He 360 noscoped the Pokemon with apples

★ Has read all of the Harry Potter books three times

★ He tried to teach Shiro how to dance

  • They never finished though because neither of them could take the sexual tension

★ He was more into the galaxies and multiple universes part of space, while Katie was excited for the tech advances 

  • They were both 100% ready for aliens though

★ Shiro told him he couldn’t create the Marauders Map, so he did out of spite

★ Talked in nothing but Shakespeare for a day to piss off Katie

★ He loved ducktales

  • Too bad he can’t see the reboot

★ Barbie and the 12 dancing princesses was his shit

★ When Katie was born, he brought a potato with him when he went to the hospital to compare the two

★ He always wore sweaters that didn’t quite fit him, so he could have Sweater Paws

★ There was a supposed ‘haunted’ house on his street, so him Katie and the Broganes all snuck out to investigate

  • A window broke while they were in there
  • Keith shapeshifted into Sonic and bolted, Katie started hysterically crying and laughing at the same time as she ran, and Matt jumped into Shiro’s arm and Shiro fuckin’ booked it
  • They all agreed not to talk about it

★ Once in gym, a ball was about to hit someone in the face but instead of yelling “duck!” he yelled “dICK”

  • To this day no one has let him live it down

★ Uses an absurd amount of emoticons when texting

★ 10/10 would meme again

★ Used the word “Yo” too many times to count

★ Tried to bury Katie underneath a bunch of snow when she was 10

★ He can’t swim

★ He’s cried during nearly every Disney and Pixar movie


[Read Part Two// Post-Kerberos! Matt HC here!]

A Simple Suggestion

Originally posted by akumatisedmari

So I had a dream last night. A dream that Ladybug and Chat Noir moved out of their homes into a studio apartment together so they could be around each other and get to akuma attacks quickly and always be alert.

But they never detransformed. They were always suited up and just lived together like two best friends and kept the city safe.

@philosophy-and-coffee said it’d make a neat fic idea and had a few cute ideas to add on to it, so…naturally, I wrote it. 

A Simple Suggestion
Summary: Breaks from patrol often allow time for Ladybug and Chat Noir to talk and be themselves. But when a silly joke starts to seem all that…well, not silly, the two find themselves considering something neither of them had ever before: moving in together. 
The tricky part is still keeping their identities a secret.
Rated: G (might change to T later)
Pairing(s): Ladybug/Chat Noir

Chapter 1 - A joke
Word count: 1,464
Read on: ao3 | here


It had started out as a joke.

Chat Noir had thrown the idea into the air one night when they’d taken a break from patrol. The city was quiet, the breeze that danced through the open sky was refreshing, and the laughter that had accompanied his voice had made Marinette smile all too wide.

“What if we moved in together?” he’d asked with a nervous twitch of his tail. “I’ve been preparing to move out for a while, but…I don’t know. Something about the thought of living alone makes me nervous.”

“You mean-” Marinette’s eyes widened. “Us? Move in together? Like, Ladybug and Chat Noir living together?”

“Yeah,” Chat laughed. “What if?”

At first, she’d given her partner nothing more than a chuckle and a dismissive pat on the shoulder, shaking her head at the simple notion. It had been such a funny thing for him to suggest that the giggles that rose from her throat had been all too hard to suppress. Even if she secretly didn’t despise the idea, she knew it would never work out.

“How would we even manage that?” she asked, swinging her legs over the ledge of the apartment complex they had paused upon and taking in a breath of the atmosphere. She could detect a small hint of food cooking somewhere, and in the distance music played, which added to the comforting ambiance of the city she adored so much. “We’d just walk around in our own home transformed, like it was a completely normal thing?”

Chat Noir offered a shrug, looking a tad sheepish. “Hah, yeah, I guess that does sound kind of stupid.”

A frown replaced Marinette’s smile, and she felt a small hint of guilt for her previous comment. “Well,” she said in an attempt to fix her blunder. “I don’t know about stupid…”

“It would probably be weird,” Chat continued, “and awkward at times…and it wouldn’t be easy…”

Marinette nodded.

“…but I dunno,” he sighed, shifting his gaze. “Part of me thinks we’d be able to make it work.”

Allowing the thought to process, Marinette tapped her finger along the aged paneling of the roof they sat atop, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip as she sought for a reply.

Would they be able to make it work?

After all, she’d been thinking about moving out of the bakery soon due to space, and she didn’t like the idea of living alone either…and Alya was already sharing an apartment Nino…

“Maybe,” Marinette said, a hint of humor in her voice. “But we’d be together all the time, and I can’t exactly picture myself cooking dinner wearing a skin-tight suit. Even if it would protect me from burns.”

Chat supplied a small snort of laughter at her statement. “I guess that’s a bonus. Would living together be so weird, though?”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer with a “yes, of course!”, but paused as she couldn’t exactly find an explanation why it would be so odd for them to live together under those circumstances. Sure, it’d feel a bit off to walk around an apartment with her suit on, but by now Marinette was used to wearing polka-dots for long hours. She felt more natural in her transformation than she ever had five years prior when she was fourteen, freshly new to the world of superheroes and saving the city, and for a brief second the thought that maybe Chat’s idea wasn’t such a stupid one passed her mind.

It would be a hell of a lot more convenient for the both of them. They wouldn’t have to worry about when the other would show up during akuma attacks, or struggle going through a battle alone while one of them was on their way.

(Or, on the rare occurrence that a certain Ladybug slept in late during a rather difficult akuma attack, Chat Noir wouldn’t have to suffer through another hour of holding a violet butterfly within his paws and panicking over what he should do with it.)

A small grin twitched at the corner of Marinette’s mouth before a second thought passed her mind, causing the hint of a smile to fall.

She knew Chat Noir was dying to get out of his house. Nineteen years old and still suffocating under the watchful eye of his parents (parent?), Chat often expressed his sorrows about his home life with a forlorn sigh. Though he never delved too deeply into personal details, Marinette could tell just by the carefully worded sentences that he was having a difficult time staying happy in the house he’d lived in since he was a baby.

And, although she couldn’t relate, Marinette did feel for her friend. There were often times where she had considered begging Tikki to let them reveal their identities to each other just so she could take Chat Noir to the bakery and gift him a place to live that he looked forward to coming home to.

(Too many nights had she found Chat patrolling the city when there hadn’t been a scheduled patrol, after all.)

And now the words were on the tip of her tongue; the confirmation she knew her partner was secretly hoping for notwithstanding the fact that he was writing it off as a joke.

A joke that tugged at his lips in a sort of dejected smile that did not—would not—reach his eyes.

“I wonder how that would work,” Marinette whispered, eyes falling to the city streets below, where cars trailed lazily down the two-way street in a pale river of yellow lights. “Maybe we could make it work.”

One of Chat’s velvet ears twitched against his shaggy blond hair, and his eyes met hers for a fleeting moment. Even in the second of shared eye contact Marinette could see the tiny spark of hope that glowed within them, and she couldn’t stop the smile that began to spread across her face.

Maybe they could move in together. Sure, she’d have to talk to Tikki about it first, and they’d have to find an inconspicuous apartment in the middle of the city together, and it would wouldn’t be easy…

But…

But…no. That was just silly.

A silly, silly idea. It wouldn’t work out. How would they keep their identities secret? How would they be able to live life as normal civilians and go about their daily duties—work, university, grocery shopping—without revealing themselves?

You’ll never know until you try, a little voice peeped in the back of Marinette’s mind. What could be so bad about it?

What could be so bad? Well, they could accidentally come home destransformed, or sleepwalk in their pajamas, or both walk up to the front door at the same time without their suits on, or, or-

Or…what?

All of those situations could easily be avoided. They could set rules. Marinette could make masks so they wouldn’t have to be transformed all of the time, or they could turn out the lights every now and then. Or maybe they could set certain days where they would stay transformed so they could hang out.

Huh…the whole idea was beginning to seem a lot simpler than it had been three minutes ago.

Yeah, Marinette replied to the earlier thought, what could be so bad?

She knew of plenty of things that could be bad, as her anxiety had ways of creating the most outlandish situations. For now, however, she ignored them.

Looking over to Chat Noir, Marinette smiled, giving his back (which was slumped over in a sad sort of way) a gentle pat. He responded by sitting up straight, a question on his lips and hope in his gaze, ears perked up in interest. They stared at each other for a breath or two before Marinette exploded into a fit of laughter, her stomach clenching with the force of of her chortle.

Chat flinched at first, obviously surprised by her sudden outburst, but a second later he joined her in the ocean of giggles that had flooded between them. His smile was so wide that Marinette could see the white glint of his teeth and lovely crinkles around his eyes, as well as the shake of his shoulders and a single tear—whether it be from laughter or relief—that slid down his cheek.

And that was how Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladybug, nineteen-year-old baker’s daughter found herself transformed and heaving box after box into a studio apartment smack dab in the middle of Paris a month later with a black cat trailing just a step behind her, placing a few of his own boxes on the wide, empty wooden floor.

It had been a crazy, crazy idea.

But sometimes, Marinette knew, the craziest of ideas were the best of all.

Your senior year roommate calls herself Clarity. She’s very small and rumpled and distant, and she goes for long walks in the forest south of campus when she’s frustrated. You aren’t friends, but you coexist peacefully. It’s enough.

The creature on your co-owned Walmart futon isn’t Clarity.

It looks like her. Enough to fool a casual observer, certainly. Enough to fool someone who hasn’t been soldering sterling silver for six hours. But you have, and the truth of silver lingers, and the Thing That Looks Like Clarity is sprouting delicate flowers from the skin of its bare shoulders.

It’s sitting cross-legged and perfectly, terribly still, tracking your eyes as you take all this in. When you sigh and set down your backpack, it says, “Hello, smith. There didn’t seem to be any sense in pretending.”

“Jeweler,” you say, and, “I go by Florence, these days. What should I call you?”

It blinks, languid and slow. “I’m not here to usurp. I’m a… placeholder.”

“It’s still confusing as shit, my guy.”

It considers this at length. Finally, with the air of one who has just solved a great puzzle, it says “Claire. We will know, the two of us.”

“Works for me. Nice meeting you, Claire.”

And that seems to be all there is to say. Your roommate’s been stolen by the Fair Folk, you’re living with a changeling, and there’s not much you can do about either of these things. You scroll through Instagram until it gets tired of watching you and wanders out into the hallway.

So that’s Claire.

Keep reading

things i want from supergirl

give me the first time kara is patrolling the skies and she hears maggie’s heartbeat skyrocket. and look, we all know kara’s probably stumbled in on maggie and alex at least once, so kara knows what /that/heartbeat sounds like.

this isn’t that.

this is faster and different and kara as supergirl is worried so she heads that way,

fast.

and maybe it turns out to be nothing, but chances are, it’s not. chances are it’s detective sawyer hauling a little kid behind her, a little boy with a fat lip and a black eye and an arm kara can see that is broken without her x-ray vision. and maybe it’s maggie with her hand protectively on the shoulder of the little boy, keeping him firmly behind her and maybe the other has her gun leveled at the gun leveled at her.

and this was only supposed to be a statement collection maggie will tell kara later - that’s why there was no back up.

but kara worries that she won’t get there fast enough because maggie has a terrified kid in one hand, a gun in the other and her eyes leveled at a man who is threatening to kill her. and kara, well she shows up just in time.

she shows up through a window, skidding through an open door because she used her super hearing and she heard, she /heard/ the way the mans muscles were tensing in his hand. she heard the slightest shift of the loaded gun and kara knew.

so she dove and rolled and skidded and is standing, wobbling, catching a bullet with her fingertips. she’s catching it and clutching it and turning to the man who fired it because

maggie sawyer isn’t allowed to die.

[maggie doesn’t know that yet, but kara will tell her]

Keep reading

If you had told Dex even a week ago that he would willingly be sharing a blanket with Derek Nurse on the floor of the Haus living room all afternoon, pressed together so close they’re practically in each other’s laps, he would’ve laughed in your face.

Now, he just bangs a fist against the side of the old space heater in front of them and subtly pulls Nursey a little closer into his side. Not that there’s all that much closer to pull him.

“I told them,” he mutters. “Draft fucking central.”

He not so much sees as senses Nursey roll his eyes. “Rans and Holtzy not letting you replace all the windowpanes last year is not why the heating went out, yo.”

Intellectually, Dex know this. But it’s easier to blame their former captains for their current predicament than it is to blame the fact that he’s let routine Haus maintenance slide so much this semester that they’ve ended up here. Because if Dex doesn’t keep a close eye on things like the barely functioning water heater, or the garbage disposal that’s missing two blades and is about to fall out of the sink entirely, who will?

Except, well, he’s been distracted this year. From the moment he got back from summer break and moved into the attic with Nursey, he’s been… distracted.

Nursey is distracting.

Keep reading

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 herself 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. They 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 being carried by 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 you head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of you 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 their 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 you 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

Post-Kerberos! Matt HC

★ When the rebellion group helped him escape, he just ended up sticking with them and eventually became one of the best fighters there???

★ He doesn’t have any idea where his dad is, but scavenges through old Galran tech to hopefully find out.

★ The group is pretty much amazed by humans and low-key terrified of them bc of Matt 

★ He dislocated his shoulder once and the group was like, “it’s horrible to see another one go,,,,” and Matt was just like “???? i can put it back in place????” 

  • Matt: Guys,,,,stop crying,,,,this can be fixed,,,,,
  • Rebellion leader: i saw a dear friend die bc of that, there is no survival
  • Matt: *silently puts in back in place*

★ He has a scar over his right eye bc of the Galra

★ The Galra also found out he needed glasses and basically went, “well we can’t have The Champions friend like this!” and injected some weird shit into his eyes. Matt no longer needs glasses, but his eyes change colors depending on his mood and who he’s talking too

★ Matt, talking to keith as his eyes turn red: And so– why the fuck are you pulling out your sword?

Keith, seeing Matt’s eyes turning yellow as he talks to Hunk: “Uhm guys? Are we sure that Matt isn’t Galra?”

  • “I am right here”

★ When he first heard of Voltron his main thought was, “Well that sounds lit” but when he hears that ‘The Champion’ aka Shiro is their leader, he immediately turns into that Mr.Krabs meme

★ Somehow some people find a picture of the paladins and everybody is just “???? the tiny one resembles matt”

★ Matt automatically realizes it’s Katie and that the red paladin is Keith and just,,,screams for roughly 5 hrs

★ Why is everyone he knows up in space? He has no fucking clue but w/e

★ Makes it a personal mission to track down Voltron for himself and the rebellion

★ They end up showing up eventually to make allies

★ The Paladins talk to some civilians first, so Allura and Coran meet up with the Rebellion leader

  • “Number 5?! How’d you get here so quickly??” “Funny story actually,,,”
  • The real Pidge shows up like 0.5 seconds later
  • Pidge//Katie, tearfully: “MATT”
  • Matt, nearly sobbing: Oh shit waddup

★ Keith screams at him for a solid 10 minutes before tearing up

  • “It’s okay. I know you’re gay and texan already, Keith”
  • “I fucking hate you”

★ There’s a tie between whether Pidge or Shiro cried more

★ Allura: I’m princess Allura and you are?
    Matt:
single and willing–i meAN MATT

 ★ **Takes in Katie’s appearance** “Well, one of us is going to have to change”

★ **Inspecting Shiro’s arm** “Yo, your weapon is just a bitch slap”

★ “,,,,,you guys do realize Allura just picked your lions off of your clothes right???” “No she–holy shit”

★ “whY DON’T YOUR LIONS HAVE SEAT BELTS?! YOU’RE GONNA DIE AT 6 SHIRO”

  • He essentially spends his time pointing out problems with basically everything tbh

★ “Why does Voltron represent the olympic rings??”

★ He realizes Keith has a crush on Lance in like a couple of days

  • “weLL I HEARD YOU GOT A SPECIAL SOMEONE ON THE SIDE, KEITH”
  • “Listen here, you piece of shit”

★ Slowly comes to the realization that he likes both Shiro and Allura

  • “Coran have you ever heard of a pickle?”

★ He helps Coran around the castle and stuff

  • “And this is the Teludav” “Y’all have fucking teletubbies here?”

★ Him and Hunk team up to annoy Shiro and Lance with puns

  • “I’m just over the moon with excitement”
  • “Aren’t you glad i’m not lion in the cold depths of space??”

★ Him and Slav get along pretty well

  • Shiro hates it

★ “In this timeline, there is a 42% chance of you getting together with the two of them.” “Thanks buddy”

★ “Why did you choose five kids to defend the universe there’s so many ways this could go wrong”

★ Him and Hunk set up the lions to play “What’s new pussycat?” 7 times with one “It’s not unusual” before resuming ‘What’s new pussycat?’

  • “For years, scientist have wondered if you can make 3 teens, 1 adult, and 3 aliens weep tears of joy by playing Tom Jones’ “It’s not unusual”.”

★ Lance is amazed by how smooth his skin is

  • Like, you’ve been in space for 2 years???? And majority of that was with the Galra??? Tell me your secret

★ Everyone figures out Matt’s crush on both Allura and Shiro and try to get them together

  • One plan consisted of a rock, 15 cups of nunvil, and a very upset bounty group.

★ Matt actually likes nunvil

★ The Lions all take a liking to him and everyone would be salty, but he looks adorable when he talks to them so they deal with it

★ Pidge voice: I’ve banned Hunk because he kept messing with my shit but now—
    Matt voice: yO I GOT MARIO KART RUNNING ON THIS

★ He appreciates the fact that Hunk points out all the weird shit that’s going on while everyone else just accepts it

★ “Do you think i could install the internet to my mind?”
★ **sees all the upgrades Pidge added to Green** “yO—YO!”

★ Anytime Shiro or Allura do anything remotely romantic to him, ‘What the heck i gotta do’ starts blasting from the Green Lion

★  Allura called his ears cute once, and nobody saw him for 6 hrs until Lance found him frantically grabbing Altean romance novels while whispering, “what does it mean?!”

★ They go to a planet where it’s considered normal to have more than one partner

  • Coran convinces the newly dubbed “Poly triangle” to pretend they’re actually dating for reasons unknown
  • They pull it off so well that the Aliens eventually ask when they’re gonna get married
  • Everyone had vastly different reactions

★ “You guys are fighting Zarkon right? Why don’t you just turn him Zarkoff?”

★ Hunk voice: Um, guys, what are those things?
    Obviously annoyed Matt voice: Aliens. 
    Different ranges of offended Allura, Coran and Keith voices: Excuse me?

★ “I’m fucking tired. beam me up, Scotty”

★ Keith, kneeling down on one knee: “Matt, Allura, will you do me the honor of marrying my stupid brother?”

★ “Voltron? More like Dabtron.”

  • “How do I return a brother?”

★ “caTCH THESE GAY HANDS ZARKON”

★ Tried to convince Shiro to let him Pidge and Hunk install a laser gun sound effect or the lightsaber noise to his arm

★ Once, he finally found the courage to tell Shiro and Allura that he liked them but they mistook it as him saying he enjoyed their company or smth along those lines

  • He tried to throw himself out the airlock afterwards

★ Lotor eventually shows up and everyone is tense bc he’s shown interest in the Blue Lion

★ Lotor sees Matt, and just pushes Lance out of the way: Hello there ;)

  • Everyone pretends not to notice Shiro’s eye twitch and Allura breaking the weapon she was holding
  • Lance was offended at first but seeing their reactions made it worth it

★ Matt is oblvious to Lotor’s attempts though

  • Everytime he gets close, Matt just assumes it’s some weird galra thing

★ “Raindrops on roses, Allura’s white hair, Shiro’s back muscles and Allura’s eyes. These two could probably kick his ass and they’re a few of Matt’s favorite things”

★ Obviously exasperated Pidge voice: You guys just need to bone
    Stern Matt voice: What did you say?
    Pleading Hunk voice: Please don’t say it again
    Not Caring Pidge voice: I said you guys need to bone
    Shocked, Furious Matt voice: B O N E!?

★ They visit a planet with very tall aliens and of course shenanigans ensure

★ Keith voice: Y’know Allura, Shiro, you should probably hold Matt’s hand, so he can’t get lost everyone around here is pretty tall

  • **Disappointed, obviously knows what you’re doing Shiro Glare**
  • Completely oblivious, already grabbing Matt’s hand Allura voice: Of course! We wouldn’t want that!”
  • **Undignified, silent squeal from Matt**

★ Hunk voice: The stars sure are beautiful tonight
    Lance voice: Y’know what else is beautiful?
    Pidge and Keith voices: A loving relationship between Matt, Shiro and Allura

★ Eventually, the time comes where there’s a serious fight that both Shiro and Allura have to go through alone, and Matt freaks tf out and terribly confesses to the both of them:

  • “Okay, listen tf up. I can’t do that dramatic thing where I pull you down and kiss you and say, ‘Come back to me’ since there’s two of you. But I will say that I love you both, and if you dont come back i’m taking out the entire Galran Empire myself”

★ Allura and Shiro are both shocked but Matt is already fast walking away so they can’t say anything

  • They come back and make a beeline for him
  • “LISTNE IVE KNOWN HIM LONGER PRINCESS”
  • “I QUIZNAKING SAVED YOUR BUTT BACK THERE I GET TO KISS HIM FIRST”
  • Allura makes it to him first

★ Keith cries, Pidge and Hunk pull out a confetti cannon they made for this occasion, Lance falls to his knees in victory, Coran pulls out a cake. Everything is good in the Universe.


[Read Part One// Pre! Kerberos! Matt HC here!]

Writing is Hard, pt 9: Sexting

Summary: You send Dean some dirty pictures.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warning: Smut, taking pictures during sex

Word Count: 2600ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO


You hold up the phone, then almost instantly put it down.

This is stupid.

No. This isn’t stupid. This will be hot. Just do it.

Keep reading

it’s such a strange thing that we care about what we look like. like have you ever just considered that cavemen didn’t have mirrors or cameras or anything to see themselves up close with and they didn’t even care about what they looked like? we literally come from the universe, all of us, and we have most of the same basic parts/appearance but otherwise we look different. our skin and eye colours change based on where we live to protect us from harm and ours cells join together different to give us our other differences in appearance. we’re just built the way we are to survive as every other animal is. when did we go from recognizing our bodies for their health and grace and strength and resiliency to picking them apart and criticizing them and starving ourselves to eliminate parts of them and comparing them to others? when money became the vital part of owning anything and therefore critiquing bodies and selling products to combat these new flaws was a new marketing technique to make tons of it. they made something so unimportant a crucial part of life and i think it’s pure bullshit. don’t even just love your body but realize that its appearance is actually such a stupid thing to waste your energy caring about.

When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

Summary: After their accidental kiss on Valentine’s day, both Marinette and Chat Noir have to deal with the emotional fallout of their actions.

Read on AO3
Read on tumblr

~

Valentine’s Day Part 2

“So, let me get this straight,” Alya said, leaning back against Marinette’s desk chair and steepling her fingers. Beside her, on a little table-cushion Marinette had made, Tikki slept soundly, having already heard the story a thousand times over. “You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“You already knew that,” Marinette groaned from her chaise, hugging a cushion to her chest and leaning back like a Freudian patient. Lord knows she was about three sentences away from a therapy-inducing hissy fit regardless, so it was probably prudent of her to be lying down in such a way. She was preparing for her inevitable breakdown that’s all. It was the smart thing to do.

And she rarely did the smart thing nowadays it seemed, so she really needed this.

“You’ve been in love with Chat as Ladybug for like a bajillion years,” Alya continued, ignoring Marinette as she continued to rehash pointless details. Details which made Marinette want to bludgeon herself to death with her cushion.

It was most likely impossible to do such a thing but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Death by cushion- she’d find a way.

“Yes. We’ve already established that,” she replied through gritted teeth, said cushion slowly creeping up to cover her face.

“But last night you kissed him by accident,” Alya said.

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

“That is correct sir,” Marinette wiggled a finger.

“And he gave you a rose and kissed you back.”

“Tru’ dat.”

It was indicative of Marinette’s deteriorating mental state that she’d said “Tru’ dat”. She’d never said “Tru’ dat” in her whole life.

“I see,” Alya nodded a few times. The fact her tone had remained neutral the whole time was doing nothing to help Marinette’s poor nerves, and so she swung her legs over the side of her chaise, sitting up to get a better view of Alya’s twinkling eyes. A sense of dread settled in Marinette’s stomach. Alya’s eye-twinkles were never a good thing, at least when they were directed towards her.

I see?! Is that all you have to say? Seriously?! I thought you’d be freaking out right now, I mean I’m freaking out but then I ALWAYS freak out. You not freaking out is making me freak out harder! Can you please freak out with me? Join me in the freak out zone already!” Marinette blabbed, waving her arms and promptly dropping the cushion to the ground.

Alya said nothing, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at her and cross her legs. At least she’d stopped steepling her fingers, Marinette thought gruffly.

After a short pause, Alya finally spoke, but her voice wobbled and strained unnaturally, her lips thinned in a way that was entirely too suspicious. “Firstly, stop saying freak out, secondly I’m not freaking out because this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She barely made it to the end of her sentence before she doubled over and descended into giggles.

It was in that moment that Marinette realised Alya’s peculiar behaviour had been due to her hiding her amusement, and she felt fully justified in yanking the cushion from its position on the floor and hurling it towards her supposed ‘best friend forever.’

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

“Come on, this is serious! I’m in hot water here!” Marinette cried, crossing her arms across her chest.

“When are you not though? Let’s be real,” the redhead shot back with a wry grin, twirling in the chair and kicking backwards to check her hair in the small vanity mirror on Marinette’s desk. The sight made Marinette relax a little. Alya only checked her hair with such scrutiny when she was seriously contemplating something.

Suddenly missing the comforting embrace of the cushion, Marinette flopped down once more. As her back hit the large pillows adorning her chaise, she let out a long sigh and all the fear, the panic, the fight, left her in one fell swoop. Only tiredness and uncertainty remained.

“How am I going to face him?” she whispered. Her head tilted towards her small, round window, to the afternoon sun beaming down in a total antithesis to her feelings. She wondered where Chat Noir was at that moment.

Did she cross his mind?

Over the years Marinette had asked herself that question more times than she could count. But it was different now. Now she wondered if Chat thought of her, of Marinette, not of Ladybug. Did he dwell on it- how they’d kissed? She had. She’d thought about it all night, until exhaustion had finally overcome her and she’d woken up late, cold, wanting something she could barely comprehend.

For years, she’d thought about what it would mean to kiss Chat Noir, Dark Cupid incident aside considering she couldn’t even remember it.

A small, involuntary whimper left her when she recalled the night before. The kiss had been an accident… at first. But the second she felt Chat’s lips press into hers was burned into her memory, playing over and over again. The moment he returned her kiss had ignited something dormant inside her and she felt raw, emotions exposed and unlocked, with nowhere to hide.

She considered her question again. How on earth could she face him as Ladybug, knowing what she did, knowing him the way he didn’t know he knew her (and god wasn’t that sentence confusing in and of itself)?

For God’s sake Marinette, it was a peck of a kiss at the most, pull yourself together!

“You’ll figure it out.”

Alya’s voice sounded lightyears away, so stuck was Marinette in her own musings. She jumped, a little sheepishly, and realised she hadn’t noticed Alya coming over to her until the spinning desk chair was pressed right by the chaise. The next moment, Alya’s hands were in her hair. Having thoroughly fixed her own short curls, she now concentrated on the silky strands of Marinette’s loose locks, braiding little plaits as if they were children at a sleepover.

Marinette let her. Two perfectly groomed heads were better than one.

“You think you can talk to him about it? As you I mean, not Ladybug,” Alya suggested, quickly clarifying her meaning whilst tugging the red ribbons loose from Marinette’s dark hair.

Snorting in response, Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Talk? To Chat? The very idea…

“Yeah sure, let me just tweet at him Ayla. Hashtag balcony make-outs,” she giggled, feeling a little better as her hair fell around her shoulders.

Foregoing the braids, Alya reached up and began tying something new into Marinette’s hair, tutting in disapproval. “Slide into the DM’s at least girl, I raised you better than that.”

They shared a laugh, settling into a comfortable silence as Alya worked on both sides of her hair. Marinette sat back and mulled over her options. Truth be told she didn’t have many. She couldn’t talk to Chat, after all it wasn’t likely he’d be back and she had no idea who he was in real life. The notion that she could talk to him as Ladybug, thus revealing herself, made her rapidly descend into a panic so sharp that she quickly pushed that thought to the side.

Really there was nothing else to do but call it what it was. A blip. A crazy alignment of stars which had given her a taste of everything she’d wanted for the past four years, a reminder that it was probably all she was going to get.

She tried not to let the disappointment settle in her bones, yet it was fruitless. Her chest ached as though a hole had been carved there.

Suffice to say it was a familiar ache where Chat was concerned, but it was bigger now.

“There. Done,” Alya pulled back, pleased with her work, and Marinette stood. Stepping over to the vanity mirror, she leaned down to check her reflection. “Matching colours for you and the bae,” she teased, eyebrows wiggling from underneath her rounded glasses.

Marinette threw the cushion at her again, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as it smacked her right in the face.

At the very least, she had the Gaming Club that night, that would provide a very welcome distraction.

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Which was ironic, considering he’d joined the Gaming Club to avoid that exact thing from happening.

“I can’t do this, I’m going to cancel,” he whimpered, hiding out in the bathroom a floor above their usual meeting place like the coward he was.

“So cancel,” Plagg shrugged, busy amusing himself with unfurling a roll of toilet paper- as per his usual hobby.

“I can’t cancel!” Adrien replied, horror struck as he gazed at himself in the mirror. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Are you insane?!”

“So don’t cancel,” Plagg’s disinterested monotone was really starting to grate on him. “Honestly kiddo what do you want me to say and will it get me food faster?”

The resounding groan from Adrien’s throat was so despairing in nature that he was afraid he’s start rumours of a ghost haunting the building. He leaned on his elbows, burying his face into his hands.

Stupid. He’d been so, so, stupid. And reckless! Totally reckless. What had he been thinking?!

It was worth it though, a small, unchecked part of him thought. Adrien squashed it flat in an instant. After all there was no time to consider the fluttering in his chest, the pleasant swoop of his stomach. Now was the time to face the consequences of his actions. His incredibly foolish, totally moronic actions.

Because, although a part of him ignited, burned in the best possible way, at the memory of Marinette’s lips against his own, another part felt thoroughly ashamed. It felt like he was tricking her in some way. Granted that had never been his intention. His plan had been simple. Leave the rose on her balcony for her to discover. She’d never know it was him and be happy at the gift from a secret admirer. Obviously, things hadn’t worked out the way he planned, though he should have anticipated that.

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

He needed to apologise to her, as Chat, and he was going to do so that night in fact. But before that Adrien needed to pretend, he needed to lie, to Marinette. To the girl he loved. He needed to act like he hadn’t heard her soft sigh, felt the warmth of her skin and the taste of her cherry-blossom lips. He had to fake it, act like it had never happened.

He had to pretend he didn’t desperately want it to happen again.

The idea of being so fake made him ill, and so he placed his hands under the cold water tap to splash his face, allowing the iciness of the water to penetrate his senses and offer him some much-needed clarity.

It didn’t really work but it was the best he could do.

When he entered the Gaming Club, Plagg tucked securely inside his jacket pocket, he was relieved to see Marinette talking to other people. He could barely look at her, the meagre glimpse he’d gotten from across the room had sent his heart cartwheeling down the corridor and somewhere into the next arrondissement.

Not wanting to look suspicious, and fully admitting that he was stalling for time, Adrien wandered over to the desk where Nino was hooking up an old Nintendo console for one of their signature Mario Kart nights.

Mario Kart…Marinette…partners… sitting close together… oh no.

“Hey bro!” Nino chirped, offering Adrien a fist to bump, clearly not noticing how the blood had completely drained from his friend’s face. “Everything ok?”

“H-hey! Everything’s good!” The first lie of the evening. How could Adrien have forgotten it was a Mario Kart night? More importantly, how was he going to survive the evening now? Sitting next to Marinette, shoulders pressed together, watching her tongue poke out in concentration like it normally did? How could he concentrate on anything knowing how close he’d been to said tongue the night before?

Grow up Adrien! You aren’t some horny teenager and Marinette isn’t a prize to be objectified. Show her some respect already!

If Nino had thought Adrien’s reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. Together they settled into an easy conversation, Adrien helping his friend set up the old console. Focusing on such a menial task did wonders for his nerves. He was almost starting to feel normal. Almost.

Of course, just as he was beginning to relax, Marinette had to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

She might as well have given him a 1.21 gigawatt electric shock, given his reaction to both was about the same. If he’d been Chat Noir at the time, his superpowers might have actually propelled him through the ceiling.

“A-Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head, taken aback by his startled shriek. “Are you ok?”

Subconsciously, Adrien’s hand reached up and he clutched his chest, fingers burying into his jumper as if it would cure the frantic beating of his wild heart.

Because she was there, right in front of him. Marinette. The girl he’d kissed last night.

His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could help himself.

“Adrien?”

The second time her voice permeated through his cloudy mind, something snapped inside of him. It was as if he were a character in a film, once played in slow motion, now fast-forwarding.

“Hey!” he cried, louder than he intended, and the people around him turned to stare. He looked at her eyes instead, with far more intensity than normal, mainly because he was so intent on not looking at her lips any more. “Marinette! It’s my friend- Marinette! My good friend, I’m good! How are you? You good- good? Yeah, I’m good, friend. How are you? Did you have a good Valentine’s day?”

WHAT?! Adrien’s brain-filter kicked in far too late, but began screaming at him nonetheless. Why would you ask her that? WHY?! You know how it went! YOU WERE THERE!

Marinette blinked, and it proved just how far gone he was that he found her blinking adorable.

Her blinking.

“Umm,” she blushed, unsure of what to say and, honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. He sounded insane even to his own ears, and he’d just asked her something quite private. Actually, he was surprised she wasn’t berating him for it. Then again, she thought he didn’t know about her encounter with Chat Noir.  His words may have seemed innocent to her ears.

What a mess Adrien had gotten himself into, and it only seemed to grow worse with every bit of word-vomit he expelled.

(Was it bad that he felt a tiny bit of pride at her blushing? Probably. But he was going to hell anyway so he might as well enjoy the slow descent at least a little bit.)

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Marinette glanced baffled at Nino, whom Adrien could see shrugging from his peripheral vision.

But he couldn’t care less.

Because he’d just noticed her hair. Or, more specifically, how she was wearing it.

In place of the red ribbons usually tied into her loose black locks, were two green ones instead. Vivid green. Chat Noir green.

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

Marinette was teasing him. She was grinning and she had green ribbons in her hair and Adrien was going to DIE.

“Good! That’s good!”

Great. He’d always wanted to die sounding like a partially strangled mongoose.

Marinette, mercifully, took pity on him and waved a controller in his face, offering him a place in the first race of the evening. He sighed, relaxing a little, but only a little. Gaming was fine. It was a welcome distraction, as long as he didn’t sit too close to her he’d be fine (who was he kidding? Of course he was going to sit close to her). At least, when he was focused on blue shells and Bullet Bills his brain couldn’t fixate on the meaning behind Marinette’s ribbons, if there was any hidden symbolism he was missing.

Suddenly the thought of seeing her that night, of apologising, seemed that much more dangerous- forbidden almost. But he had to do it. He owed it to her as her friend. Even if that’s all he could ever hope to be.

Nino still hadn’t finished setting up, and a few other members began helping him in their eagerness to get started. As a result, Adrien found himself more alone with Marinette than ever.

They sat down on the floor, controllers in hands, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, like they always did.

Adrien swallowed, wishing he’d worn a t-shirt instead of the woollen monstrosity currently overheating him.

He was fairly sure he was going to lose the game spectacularly.

His fears were proved right when, later that evening, Marinette’s knee brushed against his own and he ended up sending Donkey Kong careening off the end of Rainbow Road.

It was going to be a long night.

***

For the fifteenth time that evening, Marinette called herself an idiot.

Because she was an idiot. An idiot for standing on her balcony, an idiot for hoping lightning would strike twice in the same spot, an idiot for following her heart…

Tightly wrapping her cardigan around her, she gazed out into the mocking skyline. The bitterness of the cold February air was nothing compared to the bitterness she felt building up like sludge in her chest. Bitterness in her fortunes, bitterness in her decisions, bitterness in her own feelings.

Distantly, Marinette thanked the stars that at least it wasn’t as cold as it usually was. She was thankful she had a tiny shred of dignity left at least- that she wasn’t freezing to death in the vain hope that Chat Noir would show up again.

She reached up, fingers brushing against her lips, and remembered.

Furious with herself, Marinette shook her head, as if the rough gesture would expel all the unwanted memories from her mind. Honestly what was she doing acting like a silly sixteen-year-old with a crush? Again?! It was desperate, obsessive, ridiculous-

And totally in character if she was being honest with herself.

She needed a break. A breather. A respite from her own whirlwind emotions regarding the man in the black mask, the man who’d held her heart for longer than she cared to admit to anyone- not even Alya.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Marinette let out one last frustrated sigh before turning on her heels and making her way back to her room. Maybe her room would be less of a reminder, would save her from her torment.

But, as usual, fate had other plans for her.

Because, of course, Chat Noir happened to be standing there as if he’d suddenly popped into existence.

The shock of seeing him sent Marinette stumbling backwards with a cry, tripping over a flowerpot and tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” Chat called, rushing forward to catch her just in time. One hand gripped her flailing wrist, the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her towards him.

For a moment, both of them froze in place. Chat’s fingers splayed across her back, and she briefly felt the edges of his clawed-gloves scratching gently against the fabric of her cardigan. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before she could control it.

Chat’s eyes widened and he stepped out of their half-embrace with awkward, jittery movements, casting his face away from hers. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I shouldn’t have startled you. I guess I have a bad habit.”

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

The silence which settled on them both was heavy, uncomfortable, and borderline unbearable. It was laden with memories of the night before, swirling around them, echoing in their minds as though they were standing in an empty theatre, watching their mistakes projected on a screen with no means of escape.

Because it was a mistake… wasn’t it? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, he probably regretted kissing her back. That was why he was here- of that she was sure. To think he was here for any other reason was just asking for a broken heart.

But, oh god, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not to her. She couldn’t ever consider it to be such.

Finally, Marinette could take the silence no longer. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile onto her face, painted a picture of a girl who had herself together at least a little, and placed a hand on her hip.

“No rose tonight?”

Chat’s cat-ears twitched. He peered over at her with a puzzled frown before he realised she was teasing. Something dark crossed his eyes and Marinette forgot how to breathe. The look was gone before she could concentrate on it fully, and she found that he was smiling back at her.

“Err, n-no. No. That is- I mean- unfortunately not,” he replied with his signature bow. “But I do have something far more important.”

“Oh really?” Marinette squeaked, inwardly cringing at how lame she sounded. She’d wanted her voice to be sensual and teasing, but instead it sounded like she’d inhaled a ton of helium instead. Clearing her throat, she tried again, arching her eyebrow for good measure and all the while thrilled at the fact that he was simply there. Chat Noir was there. He’d come back to her. “What’s that?”

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

“About last night,” Chat continued, shuffling from foot to foot, completely unaware of how Marinette’s body, mind, and heart had seized up all at once. “I feel like I made a terrible impression. I- well- I’m not the type of guy to do… what I did.”

From the depths of despair and panic, Marinette felt the faintest hints of confusion. She latched onto it. Confusion was better than rejection.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well I’m not really a playboy or anything, despite what the media likes to speculate about me. I don’t kiss strangers on balconies. I guess, I didn’t want you to have the wrong impression about me.”

When Marinette hung her head, Chat felt a wave of regret wash over him. He’d practiced what he wanted to say, over and over again but it never seemed enough to fully explain himself- not without revealing to her that he was Adrien Agreste and he’d been lying to her this entire time. He was too afraid of the ramifications of that- so he needed to end this now- before he hurt her.

Damn it, he’d gotten so close though. So close to knowing what they could have- what they could be.

But it was a fantasy. Chat Noir was a large part of him, but it wasn’t all of him. The person he was behind the mask was locked away from Marinette, was a separate entity in her eyes.

Who was he fooling? They couldn’t be together. Not like this.

He had to try harder as Adrien and if she rejected him he would simply pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He would respect her, be her friend, move on, and certainly not use Chat Noir’s hero status as a means to trick her into loving him. She deserved better, deserved the world, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her.

That’s why he had to leave. Right now. Being here, being this close to her, was crumbling his resolve. Every cute gesture she made was another step closer to his damnation. He had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret, before his principles were lost to the wind.

“It was Valentine’s day. I guess… it’s easy to get swept up in the romance of the day, right?” Marinette said. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes was dulled somehow. Once again Chat’s attention was drawn to the green ribbons in her hair, as she quickly tucked a few strands behind her ears. He couldn’t bring herself to speak as she grew distant, deep in her own thoughts, and her shoulders raised. “But if we’re being honest Chat, I was worried you’d see me in a bad light too. Like- I mean- I’m not the kind of girl who kisses random celebrities and I’m certainly not the type to blab to the press about it either.”

“I didn’t ever think you were,” he uttered, swallowing thickly, and a little bit of sparkle returned to Marinette’s eyes. Her cheeks turned pink again.

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

“Well… that’s a relief. I mean I always admired you,” Marinette stammered out the confession before she meant to, quickly covering her blunder with half-truths. “You know you saved me once- from an akuma. You didn’t notice me at the time, and it was years ago, but I never forgot.”

Chat felt as though he’d been physically struck by her words.

He’d saved her? He’d saved Marinette? And he hadn’t noticed her?!

“I wish I’d seen you,” he said before he could help himself. The rest of his desires remained unsaid, as new possibilities, new what ifs, formed in his mind- like an alternate reality.

Chat inwardly cringed. No way in hell was he going to get any sleep that night.

“I wish you’d seen me too,” Marinette admitted.

Chat’s hand was halfway to hers before he yanked it back, his heart beating wildly, his mind screaming at him to leave. The pull was almost tangible, magnetic, drawing him closer to her. It was dangerous, and he needed to leave.

“I hate to be a sundae, but I have to split!” he laughed, high and fake, all the while cringing at what was perhaps the worst pun he’d ever made. And that was saying something.

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

Ok, she thought, maybe she was ridiculous, but he was equally so. Maybe that’s why she loved him so much.

She watched him make his way to the edge of the balcony and something stirred inside her, the raw feelings which had sparked when their lips had met woke from their slumber, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Chat?” her voice matched the soft tremors echoing through her body, and she tried to remember to breathe. She couldn’t let him leave like this, she’d been so close. “How about…one last kiss?”

Chat stilled, statue-like. His lips parted, and Marinette panicked.

“I mean!” she corrected, face turning to flames, “I mean sorry that was dumb- so dumb. It’s just that I- I liked that kiss and I thought- I don’t know what I thought- but I wanted to-”

His lips crashed into hers, and the rest of Marinette’s sentence was lost forever.

Chat kissed her, kissed her with a resolve thoroughly destroyed and a heart so indescribably owned; owned by her, possessed by her, consumed by her. His hands were frantic, and Marinette matched him in every way as they pressed into each other. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer.

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

The pair of them moved apart to breathe, great shuddering breaths, and then their lips were together again- as neither of them could stand to be apart for a moment. Chat’s fingers slid from her hands to grip her hips, a primal, dark part of him triumphant as he heard a moan slip from Marinette’s mouth.

They stumbled backwards, towards the wall, and Chat pressed her against it, hands roaming her sides- never going too far- always listening to her reactions. Desire coursed through him, a need to please her, to make her moan again, without pushing too far.

She must have sensed him falter, sensed his caution, as a frustrated hum rose from the back of her throat, almost like a purr of her own. Her hands moved from his hair, gripping the bell around his throat, and she tugged him down towards her, kissing his neck.

Chat was having a hard time not passing out from that alone, but then she rolled her hips, making it so there wasn’t a sliver of streetlight between them, and he was fairly certain he died and was reborn on the spot.

Dangerous was the word whispering in his mind, the word he was ignoring as his hands cupped the sides of Marinette’s face, tilting her head back. She arched into him again, countering his movements like a dance, and he gasped.

It felt too natural, too perfect… almost…familiar.

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

Dangerous- he thought as her mouth opened and he was rewarded with another moan.

Stop. Stop before you can’t, he pleaded with himself as Marinette’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails scratching against his neck.

He didn’t stop.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, passion moving from an explosive force to one of slow-burning sensuality, settling into a rhythm that was far too natural, but neither of them could bring themselves to mind.

It was a long time before Chat could bring himself to leave her, to stop kissing her. It was addictive, intoxicating, and filled with promise. For months his heart had been starved, yearning and wishing, and now it was real. Their kisses were real, her affections were real.

And so was her voice, ringing out in the coldness of the night, in answer to his question, “May I see you tomorrow night, Princess?”

There was a pause, both of them treading on thin ice, ice which slowly creaked and groaned beneath their feet.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the ice shattered, plunging them both into unknown depths.

(art to follow)

1D Rebranding and Eventual Reunion: GP vs. Fandom Perception

So I’m seeing a lot of tension an unrest over the way that the members of 1D, Harry in particular, are distancing themselves from the band as they embark upon their solo careers (ie, Harry, or whatever intern runs Harry’s sm scrubbing his twitter clean of 1D mentions). I know people are anxious about this, and I understand that anxiety, but I want to offer a different perspective: I think this could be a good thing, not just for their solo ventures, but for 1D as a whole. Hear me out on this one, long windily and under the cut. 

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Paper Hearts (Part 13)

Originally posted by tbhobi

Genre: Angst/fluff

♡ Pairing: Reader x Jungkook // Reader x Jimin

♡ Length: 5.1k

♡ Summary: It has been nearly a year since you started writing anonymous letters to Jungkook, giving him words of encouragement behind the thin mask of a paper. He never considered you as a possible suspect behind these letters, because you were nothing more than a best friend. And you couldn’t put all the blame on him either, after all, you were too afraid to confess in fear of tarnishing your precious friendship.

1 ♡ 2  ♡ 3  4   5   6   7   8   9  ♡ 10  ♡ 11  ♡ 12  ♡ 13  ♡ 14

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The Friendly Wager (Part 1)

Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,528

Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, bad date, implied sexual situations (no smut)

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?” I think this will have at least seven parts, so Kait, please feel free to disregard it till it’s completed :)

Part 1 - 2

Originally posted by talkinboutmyimagination

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2

Imagine: Dirty talk with Sam.

Sam x Reader

Warning: Smut, Masturbation, Dirty Talk

Hand to the short curly haired man upstairs, this hadn’t been planned. It started with a bit of fun, a small prank. Although now, at this new point in time, you couldn’t remember what possessed you to think of this, you had changed your name in Sam’s phone. It was suppose to be a minor inconvenience. One you could laugh off later. Instead of “Y/n” your name read “Destiny”. The joke was a lot funnier at two in the morning as you were rushing to think of something while Sam was in the bathroom. You returned to you separate motel room next door before he was done.

That’s where the real fun started.

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