“They think they’re so cute,” she muttered darkly under her breath. Her grip tightened on his hand and he laughed.
“Well…” Nathanael began his reply as he looked across the courtyard to where Adrien and Marinette were seated. Adrien with his arm around Marinette as she flipped through her sketchbook, both of them with a light blush across their faces.
They looked happy.
Nathanael smiled, a sudden idea popped into his mind and he quirked a sly eyebrow her way. “They look really happy,” he said. “To be honest, I’m kind of jealous.” He held back his laughter as he was met with that familiar the flash of anger on her face.
“What!” she yelled, causing for a flock of pigeons behind them to take flight, but neither of them flinched as Chloe stood up, dragging Nathanael by his arm with her and he finally let out his laughter at her reaction.
With determination, she pulled him along before pushing him up against the nearest tree, knocking a little sense into him as he stared at her and suddenly she was just so close, pinning him against the rough bark behind him. He felt heat rise to his cheeks and he knew better than to blame the afternoon sun.
“I’ll show them who’s the cuter couple,” Chloe muttered darkly before capturing his lips with her own. If anything Nathanael was expecting a rough and hurried kiss, but what he received was soft—slightly sticky from her lipgloss—and oh so sweet.
He grinned into the kiss as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her even closer, secretly patting himself on the back for finding another quick way of riling her up and getting rewarded mightily in return.
Summary: The Fakes hate Gemini. They’re a vicious, cut-throat crew who go against everything the FAHC stand for. But when a bigger, badder threat comes along, Michael and Ryan are forced to team up with Gavin - Gemini’s mastermind thief - to take down a common enemy.
The two of them are determined not to get too close - but living together in a small safe house, it’s hard to hide all the ways that you’re broken.
“I’d imagine so. You’re packing your entire life up to move across the bloody world in the span of twenty four hours.”
Gavin will always remember the look on Dan’s face, that night before he left. He isn’t sure how to describe it - not quite betrayed or disappointed, nothing that harsh. Certainly not directed at Gavin himself. But… lost, perhaps, because they’ve been everything to each other for a while now - best friend, brother in arms, each other’s only ally in a world growing steadily more dangerous. Gavin’s had Dan’s back as much as the other way around. Of course Dan doesn’t want him to go.
Loosely inspired by the lyrics from “Touch It” and Kyungsoo’s stage look for KOKOBOP on Music Core 170722.
Disclaimer: This is unbeta-ed and probably not the best but it’s 8AM and I haven’t slept yet and ksoo’s wrists are really beautiful fam
“Why don’t you keep them on for a bit?” Jongin asks, watching wearily as Kyungsoo retrieves a pair of fabric scissors from somewhere up in the cabinet. The tool is still in the plastic packaging, and Jongin watches as Kyungsoo bites at a corner of cardboard and attempts to rip it open, burgundy lips curled back and thick brows furrowed. Fuck. Jongin swallows thickly around the waves of saliva piling under his tongue.
His eyes skitter down to the bands of beads and rolled string layering over the other’s wrists, setting his jaw as Kyungsoo spits a tiny cardboard piece into the air.
“I’ve had them on all day,” he says, distractedly, and uses his fingers this time to pick at the little hole he’s just made. Jongin deflates a little. That’s true. But then again, Jongin didn’t get the pleasure to indulge in the sight of Kyungsoo wearing them all day, so it still feels like an injustice to humanity. And most importantly his dick.
Kyungsoo never wears bracelets. Never wears accessories, in general - so Jongin really has to make the most of the incredibly rare occasions when a stylist decides to include any piece of jewelry in the vocalists’ attire. It’d been a long fucking drought for him, too. He’d almost forgotten how well they looked on Kyungsoo when holy fucking damn shit fuck there they were, in all their beautiful magical wonder, those blessed bracelets on those blessed wrists. They were Jongin’s favorite kind, too, the loose type that hung down against the heels of Kyungsoo’s palms and accentuated the skinny dip from forearm to wrist. Bouts of color and beads. There were a couple tighter ones, knotted beautifully beside the wrist joint. Thin chains and dangly ends. Contrasting like utter art to the broadness of his palms, shaped by heaven, and glossed with long… long…round fingers and blue veins faintly protruding under soft skin.
Jongin had to check his pants and make sure cum wasn’t already leaking out of his dick. There wasn’t any. Thank God for biology and super tight boner-killer jeans.
“They suit you, though.” Jongin tries softly, but he isn’t holding onto much hope. Kyungsoo’s already got the scissors out. Dammit.
He’d come back to the dorm with them on after forgetting to take them off in the dressing room, and Jongin really could’ve cried jizz because that meant Kyungsoo would have to keep wearing them until tomorrow, at least - and that meant he’d get pure, unadulterated extra hours of Those Bracelets on Those Wrists. Heavenly quality content. There were no words to properly convey of the amount of emotions swirled up inside Jongin; he was no better than a sexually frustrated teenager at this point.
He wanted to touch them. He wanted to feel the edges of the strings with his fingertips, and roll the beads against his palms. Dig his fingertips over the veins on the back of Kyungsoo’s hands as he laced their fingers. Press his lips against those flat palms, or maybe tremble at the loose threads tickling against his skin as Kyungsoo pressed him into the sheets. Oh God, how he wanted. Kyungsoo didn’t understand the amount of power he possessed.
He’s brought out of his reverie when he realizes Kyungsoo is cocking a brow at him, curious. “What’s that face?” He mumbles, fiddling with one if the knots of the rolled string ones as a last attempt of removing it without cutting it in half. Kyungsoo and breaking jewelry were two peas in a pod - so maybe that’s why the stylists rarely give him any to wear. Such a pity. He’s already taken the beaded ones off along with the couple chains, leaving only three. Two on his right wrist, one on his left. All black and dangling and pretty.
Jongin blinks slowly, shrinking minimally against the couch cushions. “What face?”
Kyungsoo’s lips edge into a subtle smirk, leaning his weight to one side from where he’s standing near the kitchen entryway. “You look like you could cry.”
Jongin snickers, rubbing the side of his nose as he looks at his socks. It’s not far from the truth, honestly. His cock is already in mourning.
A brief silence lulls between them, and then suddenly Kyungsoo is stood closer to him, hand held out and wrist turned up towards the ceiling. Jongin’s stomach flutters and his shoulders tingle, and it looks so soft - his arm, it looks so soft and firm and smooth and steady and– “Can you try? I can’t get the knot undone.”
Jongin’s throat bobs, lips pressing into a thin line as he swallows, and his eyes dance along the length of Kyungsoo - hand, forearm, bicep, chest, collarbones, lips, eyes, and back down again - in quick little jumps. He can touch. Kyungsoo’s even asking him to. Good God. He tentatively raises his left hand, softly grazing the underside of the older’s right forearm before his fingers circle around, inching down to the narrowing of his wrist were the bracelets rest.
He traces along the protrusion of a vein, following it all the way to the joint on the side, then over to the inner seam of his wrist, where he rolls the strings under the pad of his thumb and sinks his teeth into his lower lip. Kyungsoo shifts barely, raising his other hand to slowly rotate the bracelet until the little knot comes up beside Jongin’s thumb.
“It’s really tight.” He mumbles, and Jongin can feel the burning heat of being watched. Kyungsoo’s gaze, like fire, is searing his senses with warmth and frying his nerves. He silently revels in it, thumbing over the knot so it presses into Kyungsoo’s skin.
“You could just leave them on.” He says, using his thumbnail to pick at one of the taut ties. It doesn’t budge, so he brings his other hand up to hold Kyungsoo’s hand steady and pull him a little closer, for better leverage. He uses his index finger this time, trying to pry one of the strings loose from the knot - but it’s ultimately futile.
He ponders for a moment. He wets his lips, then leans down, carefully taking the knot between his teeth. He can feel the heat of Kyungsoo’s skin beneath his lips; wonders if he could feel his pulse if he pressed hard enough. His nose nudges into the other’s arm as he cranes his neck slightly, closing his lips around the knot and scraping at it lightly with his lower set of teeth, searching for an edge. He hears Kyungsoo’s deep breath above him, and tilts his head a little more to try with his canines. He nibbles at it, but the knot keeps popping out his hold, dampened from his saliva and impressively stubborn. He leans back, fingering the bracelet as he reevaluates the tie.
Kyungsoo tastes of stale cologne and hairspray. Which should be- and probably would be in any other situation- unappealing, but Jongin likes the way it lingers vaguely on his mouth as he licks his lips again. His gaze flits up and finds Kyungsoo’s glossy orbs already settled on him, hooded and dark in the soft lamp light, lips pouted out barely from the way he’s looking down at the younger.
Jongin maintains eye contact the second time he leans down, closing his eyes just as his lips meet the inside of Kyungsoo’s wrist once more in a soft, light kiss - chapped skin against smooth. “Leave them on.” He whispers in a small puff of breath, feeling Kyungsoo’s fingers curl against the underside of his chin.
“You like them that much?” Kyungsoo rasps softly, harmlessly pinching some skin between his fingers and nudging his knuckles against the faint stubble already growing back in.
Jongin nods barely, eyes faintly scrunched as his jaw goes lax and his tongue peeks out to quickly dab against a blue vein hidden under thin lays of pale skin. So beautiful. “Tonight,” he says, and his eyes slowly open, half-lidded and pupils blown, pleading and earnest, “leave them on for me, Soo.”
Hi! I am preparing for Throbb!week. I can't remember all direct Theon to Robb interaction. Would you know a list of the moments when they spoke to each other?
The issue with them is that most of their interactions happen while no narrator-character is there to report it; they all take place before Theon becomes a POV and Robb is never a POV (sob). Still, one of the very first things (besides disrespecting the dead…) Theon is seen doing in the books is protecting Robb.
“Robb’s curses rang through the yard. (…) Theon Greyjoy seized Robb’s arm to keep him away from the prince. (…) Theon kept Robb locked in an iron grip until the princes and their party were safely away”
So there aren’t many direct dialogue, although they were intimate enough to :
- Have discussed, at some point in time, the case of Euron Greyjoy. And I really don’t believe Theon would have confided personal family stuff about a uncle he is scared about to anyone else. (ASOS, chapter 45)
“Euron Greyjoy is no man’s notion of a king, if half of what Theon said of him was true. Theon is the rightful heir, unless he’s dead… but Victarion commands the Iron Fleet. I can’t believe he would remain at Moat Cailin while Euron Crow’s Eye holds the Seastone Chair. He has to go back.”
- Have been (maybe) isolated together right after Robb learnt his Father’s execution. It’s with Theon that he chooses to stay at that moment. And I suppose they talked. (Right before Robb goes to the Godswood. AGOT, chapter 71)
- Catelyn’s AGOT POVs make it very clear that they are always seen together. Bran attests to the same. I swear, every single mention of Theon is that book can be summarised by : he smiles. he stands beside Robb. he seems strangely amused; he is down with killing people. Robb likes him, though.
“Even when he was home at Winterfell, Robb the Lord seemed to have more time for Hallis Mollen and Theon Greyjoy than he ever did for his brothers.” (AGOT, some of the early Bran chapters).
So, it’s no doubt they discussed often, and joked even at the most inappropriate times:
Once, a boy called Theon Greyjoy had enjoyed tweaking Bolton as they sat at council with Robb Stark, mocking his soft voice and making japes about leeches. He must have been mad. This is no man to jape with. You had only to look at Bolton to know that he had more cruelty in his pinky toe than all the Freys combined.
But I believe you were asking for direct dialogue, so:
“Theon thinks I should call the banners,” Robb said. “Blood for blood.” For once Greyjoy did not smile. His lean, dark face had a hungry look to it, and black hair fell down across his eyes. “Only the lord can call the banners,” Bran said as the snow drifted down around them. “If your father dies,” Theon said, “Robb will be Lord of Winterfell.” “He won’t die!” Bran screamed at him. Robb took his hand. “He won’t die, not Father,” he said calmly. “Still… the honor of the north is in my hands now. When our lord father took his leave of us, he told me to be strong for you and for Rickon. I’m almost a man grown, Bran.” Bran shivered. “I wish Mother was back,” he said miserably. He looked around for Maester Luwin; his donkey was visible in the far distance, trotting over a rise. “Does Maester Luwin say to call the banners too?” “The maester is timid as an old woman,” said Theon. “Father always listened to his counsel,” Bran reminded his brother. “Mother too.” “I listen to him,” Robb insisted. “I listen to everyone.”
- In AGOT in general, Theon is that “dark, lean, impetuous” (Cat’s words) presence that supports Robb but also, undoubtely, pushes him to embrace his most violent/wild side. It’s interesting as ASOS shows us that Robb grew afraid of that part of himself (”I’m not a wolf”).
Catelyn asked the question that had been troubling her since she entered the hall. “Robb, where is Grey Wind? (…) You always kept him with you before.” “A hall is no place for a wolf. He gets restless, you’ve seen. Growling and snapping. (…) Jeyne’s anxious around him and he terrifies her mother.” And there’s the heart of it, Catelyn thought. “He is part of you, Robb. To fear him is to fear you.” (ASOS)
…So Grey Wind growled at the Westerlings’ entourage but never at Theon. He might even have been proud of that, knowing him. (Remember him taunting Tyrion ? “The wolves do not like your smell, Lannister.” in AGOT. But they do accept a Greyjoy…)
Theon knew Robb better than most and Robb admired Theon, which suggests he had uncovered the honourable parts of him - beneath all the talk about killing people and the confident attitude and the shooting-in-dead-people-heads kind of behaviour. Robb found support and reassurance in both his mother and Theon (look how they’re on the same level : Robb glanced from her to Greyjoy, searching for an answer and finding none.)
That moment when you’re no longer capable of enjoying a movie with company due to the fact your unhealthy obsession with Eremin (Eren Jaeger/Armin Arlert) has brought you to say things such as:
“The (main protagonist) is Eren. (Their romantic interest) is Armin.”
I honestly haven’t the slightest clue why I do this (because these two are always on my mind), but I have theorized that the reason I have increasingly begun to mix up a character’s name/pronouns is due to my impression of their character.
“He’s so in love with him.”
But wait. Those are both female characters.
Not too long ago, whilst watching a film with my family, I found myself particularly confused by an individual character’s decision.