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#you will occasionally see me talk about this massive project here
basilone · 4 months
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She is staring at the painting above the hearth when they enter the room. Her head is tilted as if she is observing the artist’s details, but there is a mild frown at play on her face that seems at odds with the standard look of any art admirer. Rather, her hands are on her hips as though she is fully prepared to quarrel with either artist or painting. There is no gun on her hip. No rifle hanging off her shoulder, either, and Ron highly doubts those threadbare boots of hers conceal any weapon of note. Unarmed. Unarmed and alone. Her frown deepens as she turns on her heel to face them fully. Her chin lifts when she salutes – rigid, measured, perfect – but even at this distance he can see a potential storm at work behind her eyes. She does nothing to soften her gaze as she looks at each of them in turn. Her glance at him is nothing more than a swift once-over, which feels rather like he is being measured and found wanting. If he didn’t know better, he would say that she’s here to start another war.
Introducing Soviet Army officer Tatiana Ilyinichna Petrova from my WIP The Burning House, which is a post-war adventure that begins in 1940s Austria and tracks Ron Speirs's life to 1950s Berlin and beyond.
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ineffable-endearments · 9 months
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I don't know if I think it's likely that Crowley would hang around Soho after the events of S2. Something in my gut is telling me that he would flee. Just...way, WAY too many reminders of Everything. People asking him where Mr. Fell's gone, probably. Hundreds of years of memories. And given that he's going to want to reestablish his own boundaries and emotional walls immediately after what feels to him like a massive betrayal, I don't think I see him wanting to look out for the bookshop or do any favors in memory of Aziraphale. Not yet; not until their story moves forward a bit.
But on an emotional level, the vision of the other characters trying to comfort him is so healing. I WANT to see Muriel trying to talk to him about human stuff and being so ridiculously goofy about it that Crowley forgets to be sad for a few seconds. I WANT to see Nina serving him espresso and sarcasm, and Maggie bringing him records that he doesn't usually like but occasionally does.
And yes, I WANT to see him looking out for the bookshop anyway. I don't know if I can believe it, but I want so badly for him to look at the ruins of his former life and decide it's still worth something. Even if Aziraphale isn't here now. The history in the books and the scrolls and the people who live in the neighborhood and the very buildings themselves - they're still worth something.
And there is still room for a few potted plants in the shop, which he brings from his flat.
I also want Crowley to find out what Newt and Anathema and the Them are up to. I want to see Anathema warily eyeing Crowley from afar as she wonders why this weirdo is back in town before finally going over to say hello. I want to see a very well-intended Newt break Crowley's cell phone while trying to help him find directions. I want Dog running and yipping around their feet while Adam offers to share his ice cream, and Pepper asks a bunch of incisive questions about where Crowley's from, and Brian drips chocolate all over himself, and Wensleydale yammers on about the Them's latest project.
I want the Tadfield crowd to visit Soho for the coffee shop that Mr. Crowley mentioned, or perhaps for the Soho crowd to visit Tadfield for the amazing weather Crowley insists is always there.
"Humans: you don't let yourself get too attached." I want him to finally figure out how to love a little community, even knowing that the members of it will pass away and change over time.
I spend all my time analyzing Aziraphale because I love him so much but find his motivations hard to understand - writing meta after meta is my way of processing my thoughts. But I love Crowley, too. He has taken a little bit less emotional processing for me. But I want so much to see him genuinely rested and content. It would be like seeing part of myself be rested and content.
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sailoryooons · 2 years
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You DTF? | pjm | (m)
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☾ Pairing:  Jimin x female reader 
☾ Summary: You’ve never had a one night stand. Jimin has had countless. You’re trying to experience new things. Jimin loves doing the same old shit. So when you meet the man going around the club inviting people to touch his ripped abs, you think perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try new things. It’s Labor Day weekend at the shore - what can go wrong? 
☾ Word Count:  10,233
☾ Genre: Smut, pwp, strangers to one-night stand
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 
☾ Warnings: Recreational drinking, Jimin being a total tool, cringe-worthy dialogue, explicit language, fuck boy Jimin is it’s own warning, 2009 slang should be a warning because it is literally so cringey, Jimin is quite literally doing the jerk and reader is totally buying it, literally these two are so cringe, sexually explicit content including oral (f. and m. receiving), some nipple play, a lot of spit description idk, big dig Jimin, throat fucking, unprotected vagina sex, Jimin bein an idiot and combing reader not to use a condom, reader is equally stupid cause she wants to get fucked, Jimin accidentally cumming inside, hittin' it from the back, cringe dirty talk, finger blasting (lmfao), Jimin occasionally hitting reader's cervix, they're like a little toxic idk, this is like the most hilarious thing I've ever written, Jimin does coke right on reader's counter cause he has to keep his stmania okay, Jimin is insensitive a lot
☾ Published: September 4, 2022
☾ A/N: This is both the best and the worst thing I have ever written. There are some light-toxic themes and some ignorant dialogue and behavior between the two of them because they're both bimbos drunk in 2009. The writing is supposed to be a little cringe but I may have gone overboard. Also I wrote this in two days idk what kind drugs I was on (amoxicillin and mucinex) but here is the wildly ridiculous and hilarious fic for a collab that no one asked for but we did anyways. Very very happy to share this trash idea with Jai and M 🥺
Special thanks to @here2bbtstrash for helping me edit because I was in a rush and at one point wrote that reader's head opened in the middle of sex. We don't know what I was talking about but happy halloween, reader's head was about to be posted splitting open in bed adkjadjdkja
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Jeju Shore Collab
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“So are you actually going to try and get fucked in that outfit or is it going to go to waste?” Tiffany asks as she sprays several pumps of Bath and Body Works Japanese Blossom all over herself. You cough as the sweet-smelling mist chokes you. She already has the lotion on. “You look hot, capital h-a-w-t.” 
The mirror of the hotel room is a little dirty - there is backsplash from the faucet staining the glass and some tiny dots of toothpaste. And you can definitely see Nicole’s fake tan staining the bottom corner after spraying her St. Tropez all over. 
You see Tiffany’s point about the outfit being wasted on you in a way. Low-rise, light-wash Lucky Brand jeans sans button, with the zipper pulled down just the slightest at Nicole’s behest. A shirt that was harder to get on than you think it will be to get off, made out of skin-tight pink fabric that only reaches your midsection, and even then, has a massive cutout over your abs. 
“Not this again,” you sigh, nervously playing with the belly button ring you had pierced the year before. A cute little Playboy bunny swings back and forth, hot pink rhinestones matching your shirt. 
“Yes, this again. You look so fucking hot tonight. A one-night stand will not kill you. It’s Labor Day. Please live a little.” Tiffany decides she has contributed to pollution enough, snapping the cap on her perfume bottle to turn around and face you. “You’re not in a relationship anymore. It’s time to be a slut.” 
“Yeeeeaaah be a slut!” Nicole yells, running into the room and grabbing you by the hips, slamming your ass into her crotch several times to crudely depict being fucked from behind. Her jean shorts are impossibly tight, red thong peeking out the sides. “It’s so much funner.”
“Funner isn’t a word.”
“God shut the fuck up for two seconds and be a hot idiot like Paris Hilton.”
Pushing your friend away, you nod. You love them and you know they’re right. You’re single and hot, and there are countless clubs all over with hot, single guys. You’ve never had a one-night stand, having been in a long-term relationship all throughout college until recently, and now you’re where single people come to get laid and you… have a night left to do it.
Tiffany’s iPod blasts in the living room of the hotel room. There are empty cups all over the counter, sticky and sweet smelling from the liquor and mixers spelled on most surfaces. You go to the fridge, pulling out a can of pineapple juice. 
Nicole gasps when she sees you reach for the bottle of Malibu on the counter. “WAIT! We need the song!” 
She rushes to the iHome, bending over the counter. She flips the song to Caribou Lou, wiggling her ass back and forth before she stands straight and points at you and the bottle of Malibu in your hands.
“151 rum, pineapple juice and malibu caribou get them all numb!” she screams, making you smile. 
Despite their earlier jesting, you relax as you mix drinks, singing along to the throwback while shaking your ass. The zipper on your jeans moves a few times, but you’re careful not to let your vagina make a surprise appearance. With how low-cut the jeans are, Tiffany had convinced you not to wear underwear.
Which was more of a reason to get laid. 
The drink is sweet and easy to drink. You scroll through your messages on BBM but otherwise give your attention to playing flip cup with your two best friends, determined to get just a little bit tipsy before you head out to the bars. 
The hotel isn’t very far away from all of the live entertainment. It’s within walking distance which saves a ton of money on cabs, but it is a nightmare for your feet the last three nights you’ve stumbled home in wedges. Nicole even broke one of her heels, walking home on uneven feet like a seesaw. 
When you’ve decided that you’ve pregamed enough, you and your friends teeter to the elevator and down through the lobby. Outside, the balmy air kisses your skin. A creamsicle sky has faded to black and you can see the lights of the entertainment district and hear the faint thunder of music from clubs with open doors and windows. 
You scrunch your nose when Nicole lights a cigarette on your walk. You smell the crackling menthol of her Newport as she takes a drag, hoarsely laughing at a group of men who catcall you from a sports bar as you walk by. You flick your hair over your shoulder, rolling your eyes. 
As if it were that easy.
Labor Day is in full swing around you. The street has barricades to open up to foot traffic only, and they’ve relaxed open container laws. There are a few food vendors on the road, people lined up to grab a quick slice of pizza or hot dogs to settle their tequila-churned stomachs.
A breeze makes your hair dance. It smells like fried food and a hint of salt from the ocean. It carries something else on it - a taste of something wild. You’re here with your friends on a vacation that you had originally planned to take with your boyfriend.
You can recognize now that it would have been a disaster. The two of you in a partying scene meant for singles would have signed your doom. But the end had come sooner than that when you found him with his dick down some girl's throat when you came home early from work. 
In hindsight, you always knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship. But you liked the way he called you baby, the way he peppered you with kisses to make you a little less angry at him, and the way that he made you feel when you weren’t fighting.
And you definitely like the way he drove his Escalade, and the fact that he could afford to take you places like the restaurant in the St. Regis and you stayed in lofty rooms at the Ritz Carlton while vacationing. 
Still. There had been a lot missing, namely in the bedroom, which is exactly why Tiffany and Nicole have been on your ass about at least trying to experience a one-night stand. They wanted you to expand your horizons, to learn what you do and don’t like, and to maybe stumble on someone who could actually make you cum more than two times out of ten. 
The first bar makes you lose a little hope. House music thumps loudly over the speakers. Jean-clad partygoers surround you, some on the dance floor shuffling their feet while maintaining a grip on sweating glasses and nodding their heads as the DJ thrusts a fist in the air. It’s not your type of club, but Nicole hits it off with someone in a larger group of people.
You exist on the edge of the conversation, picking at the slice of wilted pineapple in your drink as you watch the way Nicole plays her game. She’s excellent at flirting - a coy smile as she leans in to say something over the pumping music, balancing herself with a hand on his arm, swagging at his chest when he makes a funny joke.
It would be easy for you too if you thought any of the men were worth your time. They all look the same: bright polo, khaki shorts, hair gelled up. You want to tell them that Connecticut casual isn’t an outfit to the bar, but you say nothing, examining your nails for a while instead. 
One of the guys starts talking to you - Ben, you think his name might be. You bob your head to the music, listening as he explains what he does as a private financial advisor. Your eyes slip over every detail of his outfit: fitted Abercombie polo with the collar popped, khaki pants paired with brown sandals, a white shell necklace wrapped around a sunburned throat, and a tattoo of his former fraternity peeking from his sleeve on his bicep.
Whatever Ben is saying, you’re not listening. You’re almost positive that Ben fucks the way he dresses: generically. 
If you’re looking to experience something different, Ben - maybe Brian - isn’t it. You fucked Ben-Brians in college and they were as boring at sex as your ex-boyfriend was, except they couldn’t afford stone crab claws.
Everyone shifts to a new bar. You’ve molded your groups together, Ben or Brian - you’re starting to think maybe it’s Brad - is still by your elbow. You can sense he’s having a good time and you wish you were too. So you down a few shots at the next bar, loosening your limbs a little and making you a little less judgmental. 
Brad is okay. Not your type and he smells like Crest Whitestrips, but he’s more bearable now that you’ve switched from Pina Coladas to Tequila Sunsets. You nibble the stem of a cherry, enjoying this club much better than the last. The music is more hip hop and pop, familiar songs making you bob your head and sway your hips a little more.
Sweat makes your skin sticky. You shift to stand underneath the air vent by the bar a little more, but you misplace your wedge, knocking yourself off balance. Ben-Brian-Brad catches your arm and steadies you. Slides in closer. His mint breath fans your face and you blink up at him. For a split second, you consider if you were too harsh on his judgment earlier. Maybe he could surprise you. He seems easy enough to please and like it wouldn’t be hard work, and he’s already trying to win you over…
Your eyes slide past him for a second and your gaze stays fixed on the man you see coming down the stairs into the club. 
It’s nearly impossible to tear your gaze away once you see him. He runs a hand through his dark hair, laughing at something the man next to him says. He’s in dark jeans with bleached patches highlighting the material, a fitted Love Kills Slowly shirt by Ed Hardy, and even from a distance, you can see the glittering earrings in his ears.
He’s beautiful. Full lips pulling into a smirk as he winks at people he walks past. Brad rights you, asking you something but you don’t hear him, staring at the man across the bar who leans on the counter. He’s helped immediately, two bartenders drifting to a siren as they stare at him. 
As though he senses your gaze, the man looks at you and your face goes red. His eyes are seductive, narrowed a bit as he checks you out shamelessly. Dark hair gelled back perfectly. A jaw that is both elegant and dangerous. He stands out among the rest of the partiers, his features an exquisite blend of feminine and masculine. 
Your line of sight is cut off when Brad leans forward on the sticky countertop to order more drinks. You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. Your hands are a little shaky. Whoever that man is looks more your type, but the Ben-Brian-Brads of the world are much easier.
So you accept the new drink, sipping it and turning your back to the bar. And when you’re coaxed onto the dance floor, all disjointed limbs and sweating bodies, you forget about the Love Kills Slowly man and focus on the way you feel - dreamy and soft with the buzz of tequila in your veins. 
A song you vaguely recognize plays in the background. You sway your hips, ass pressed against Ben’s crotch with his hands gripped tightly on your sides. He sways you back and forth, less like a dance and more like an erratic pendulum that can’t find its rhythm. Ben’s dancing is less than impressive, and you start to think that your earlier thoughts about his skill in bed might be right. 
Tiffany laces your fingers with hers as she dances in front of you, pulling you away from Brian’s greedy hands to press your front against hers, letting you grind against her. You tilt your head back. Fog fills the air, lights dancing across the ceiling. It smells like the sticky-sweet of the machines used to make the fog, a tinge of sweat. 
Nicole interrupts your dancing. Your legs ache a little, pieces of hair stuck to the nape of your neck as she bounces up and down yelling, “You have got to see this guy.”
You and Tiffany laugh as Nicole pulls you, the press of bodies jostling you back and forth as you try to catch a rhythm to move through the crowd. When you break the barrier and come out on the other side, your brows shoot up at the scene in front of you. 
The Love Kills Slowly guy is posing next to a girl who points at his exposed six-pack and holy shit his body is insane. Perfectly cut abs, a solid v-line dipping into pants that fit his narrow waist. He holds the shirt up with a thumb, sticking out his tongue as the flash on the camera goes off. You can’t help but think his tongue is devilishly long. 
Up close, he’s even hotter than you thought. You stare at him as the girl who took the picture flirts with them. There is a gaggle of men and women surrounding him, a flock of geese looking upon the swan longingly.
“He is the hottest fucking person I’ve ever seen,” Tiffany giggles. “We should totes get a picture with this dude.”
“Why, is he famous?” You ask, watching as he nods and lets the girl touch his abs. God. What a tool. “He loves being the center of attention, it looks like.”
“So? He’s probably a model. I mean look at that. Come on.”
Tiffany yanks you and Nicole. You resist, stumbling over as she inserts herself into the conversation. He smiles at her, dazzling as he raises a brow at whatever she says. You pull your hand away from her and take a step back. You will not throw yourself at the Adonis in front of you. 
You pivot away from them, staring out over the open crowd. You don’t enjoy the way Tiffany and Nicole giggle, sweet as the simple syrup on the bar over this new stranger. They make it too easy, and you don’t enjoy the idea of melting for someone just because they’re hot. Even if they’re model hot.
And what kind of model wears Ed Hardy?
At first, Tiffany and Love Kills Slowly chat animatedly. That makes sense - she has a way with people and she’s an excellent flirt. When your name is called the first time, you think you imagine it so you stay bobbing your head to the Ke$ha song, minding your business. When it’s said a second time, you glance at them from the corner of your eye.
“You’re being rude,” Tiffany asserts, glaring at you. You feel your eye twitch as she touches an open nerve. You’re not rude - you’re bored and your drunk friend cannot tell the difference. “This is Jimin. I was right, he is a model.”
“That’s nice.”
Jimin’s eyes are on you and your stomach flips. You pick at the french manicure on your freshly done acrylics, thinking that the attention will pass you any moment now. But you feel Jimin’s eyes on you and you sense when he leans forward past Tiffany, ducking his head to level the most intense pair of brown eyes you’ve ever seen at you. 
“What?” He asked. “Don’t like models?”
“Not one that wears Ed Hardy,” you answer honestly. Your words come out a little stiff. You feel your arm tighten, squeezing your clutch that’s wedged in your armpit. “Shouldn’t you be in like… Armani or something?”
“You’re uptight.”
“Thanks.”
He frowns. “Loosen up.” He looks at your empty hands. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”
“Why?” Jimin moves past Tiffany entirely, offering a hand and a smirk that almost makes your mouth pop open. Your heart does a tiny flip - you can’t help it. He is stupid beautiful. “I am drinking.”
“Your hands look a little empty to me.” He grabs one of your hands, linking your fingers and tugging. “Okay, one hand full. Let’s put some goose to make you loose in the other.” 
You’re speechless as he tugs you along. Tiffany squeals a little, she and Nicole both on your heels. 
People make room for Jimin at the bar. You watch the way people look at him. He drops your hand to dig a hand into the pocket of his skin-tight jeans for a credit card. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he looks at you.
“What’s your drink, baby?” 
“I’m not your baby.”
The quip comes out before you can stop it. Tiffany smacks your arm and makes a noise behind you. You ignore her, staring at him pointedly. 
“Mmm she’s a brat. I like that. Your drink?” Jimin prompts again with a smile, undeterred. 
“Um. Anything with Tequila.”
“A girl after my own heart. You wanna do shots?”
“Yes!” Nicole and Tiffany both squeal. He smiles at them briefly, but his eyes drag back to you.
You stare. Jimin has a dark lash line, making his eyes more enchanting. He bites his bottom lip, letting his eyes drop down to your exposed midriff before dragging his eyes back up again, raising a brow in a question. 
He’s only buying shots if you want one. 
You shrug a shoulder, nonchalant. He grins and asks the bartender for chilled Patron shots with training wheels. With his back turned, you smirk, feeling a sliver of satisfaction as you look away from Jimin and spot the group of men you were with earlier looking in your direction, murmuring amongst themselves. 
Turning quickly before you can make eye contact with Ben-Brian-Brad, you find yourself face to face with Jimin once again. He leans on the bar with one elbow, head tilted as he studies you. His attention makes you feel warm and drunker than you already are. 
“You didn’t tell me your name,” he points out as the bartender sets four glasses of blanco tequila in front of you, rimmed with salt and garnished with a lime wedge. He picks up two glasses and hands them to Nicole and Tiffany’s hands as you give him your name. “Cute. You’re cute.”
“Thank you.” 
Jimin lifts his glass in your direction. “Salude.” 
You watch, mouth parted slightly as Jimin’s tongue curls out of his mouth, licking the rim of the shot glass slowly. His eyes don’t leave yours, even when he’s finished the rim and tosses the tequila back before biting into the lime. A tiny bit of lime juice runs down his chin, your eyes following the trail. His tongue darts out to snatch it. 
“Come on,” he purrs. “Your turn.”
Your mouth is dry. You quickly lick the salted rim, barely making it around before tossing the shot back and squeezing your eyes shut as it burns down the back of your throat. You bite into the lime wedge, the sour taste helping ease the burn. 
Juice runs down your chin. Before you can wipe it, Jimin’s hand darts out, a thumb brushing across your skin to catch it. He removes his hand, lips twitching upward slightly as he absently sucks the juice from his thumb and turns to the bartender to order two tequila sours. 
“Are you on vacation?” he asks and you nod your head, a little dizzy from the shot and from him. The group of men from earlier has shuffled back toward your group, Nicole and Tiffany reluctantly shifting attention from Jimin to the men they were talking to previously. “Same. I have no idea where my friends are, I think they left me.” He slides a drink toward you. “You won’t leave me, right?” 
“Depends.”
“On?”
“If you’re nice or not. I like nice guys.”
He sips his drink, leering at you over the rim of the glass. “I’m a nice guy. At least, for you.” He nods his head toward the group of guys. “You have a boyfriend?”
“Would you care if I did?”
He throws his head back to laugh, throat covered in a light sheen of sweat. He looks at you over the glass, the first genuine smile not filled with something lingering on lust that he gives you. “No, but you told me to be nice.” 
That makes you smile a bit. You bite your lip, trying to hide it, and decide to sip the drink. It’s good - strong - but good. “You seem like the type who wouldn’t care.”
“Awe don’t hurt my feelings. You’re like one of the hottest girls in here and I’m into it. If I had to ignore a ring or a boyfriend, I would. Is that so bad?” You shrug, sipping on the drink. You don’t know what to say. 
Thankfully, Jimin doesn’t really seem to care. You think perhaps he likes hearing himself talk. It works out. Jimin fills the conversation with the normal what do you do and what do you like? You don’t miss the way he leans in toward you, or the way he glances at your mouth. 
Still, you’re a little rigid. Your sentences aren’t as smooth and practiced as his. He doesn’t seem to care, shuffling a little close to you as the bar fills up with people. He smells like Axe Essence and the 5 gum he’s popped into his mouth between drinks. 
“Trying to quit coke,” he snickers when he sticks another piece of gum in his mouth. “Got some bad press for it during last fashion week and my agency keeps threatening to drop me even though it's obviously a pre-fucking-requisite to walk for McQueen.” 
“And chewing gum helps with that?”
“Not really, but it gives my mouth something to do and it soothes the muscle memory of hand to face.”
“Smart.”
“You look incredible by the way.” That makes you blush, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and ducking your head. Jimin chuckles, tapping your chin lightly with a finger to make you look back up at him. “Cute.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re a bit of a spoiled brat, huh?” That makes you frown and pull away. He whines, hands chasing your shoulders to draw you closer to him. “Stop. I like that. It means you have high standards and good taste.” 
You hum, finishing the rest of your drink. You’re properly drunk now, the room tilting a little bit as a giggle escapes you when Jimin looks at you. He laughs back, sliding a glass of water over to you after he takes a few sips. 
The water is refreshing. Your skin feels warm all over and you move a little slower, looking around. The club is more packed than you remember and there are more bodies on the dance floor. You watch the way people move together, pressed up against one another and grinding to the music humming through the air. 
Jimin follows your gaze, leaning closer to you and popping his gum in your ear. “Wanna dance?” 
You nod, looking up at him through your lashes. He grins and pushes off the bar, sliding a hand around your waist to shift you in front of him. You look at him over your shoulder with narrowed eyes and he smiles, tucking you to his chest and sliding his chin on your shoulder. 
“Coming through,” he calls, walking you both through the group behind you. Ben-Brian-Brad glares at you and you avert your eyes as Jimin guides you toward the dance floor, pads of his fingers pressed firming into your hips and scouring marks into your skin. “Tool in the polo definitely has a small dick.”
You giggle as you peel apart, Jimin catching your hand as you turn to face him, pulling him with you. “What makes you say that?”
“His fucking collar is popped, baby.” 
“I think he’s mad at me,” you admit.
“You’re way out of his league.”
“That’s true.”
Jimin wraps his hands around your wrist and yanks you to him. You gasp, stumbling as your chests press together. He slots a thigh between your legs, making you freeze for a moment as the music slows a bit. Jimin’s hands are confident where they settle on your waist, moving your hips in a soft rhythm as he begins to move. 
Instincts take over. You wrap your arms around Jimin’s neck, letting him press his forehead against yours as he stares you down. He’s no longer controlling your hips but letting you move against him naturally, both of your bodies in sync. 
Jimin is an amazing dancer, never forcing you to sway too much or trying to control your movements awkwardly. He rolls his hips into you experimentally once and you gasp lightly, noses brushing together. 
“You’re fucking hot,” he mumbles, his breath fanning your face. 
“So are you.”
Your fingers slide through the dark, sweaty strands at the back of his neck. He lets out an appreciative noise, making your insides melt. Your eyes drop to his lips, slightly parted, slicked with gloss from his pink tongue darting out to wet them. You wonder how soft they must feel, and the way he used his tongue to lick the salt from the rim of the tequila glass makes you wonder what kissing him is like.
You don’t have to wonder long. Jimin notices you staring. Gives you a wolfish grin. You think he looks wicked in the low light, all sharp eyes with a cunning smile. 
And then he’s kissing you. 
You make a sound of surprise, but it’s swallowed in his warm, minty mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair as he presses the small of your back so that you’re impossibly closer. 
It’s easy to forget you’re in the middle of the dance floor. Jimin’s mouth moves slowly against yours, sucking your bottom lip greedily as he pulls away for a split second. Before you can chase his lips with yours, he’s kissing you again, with a little more vigor and a curious tongue that swipes the seam of your lips.
You open your mouth to him and Jimin consumes you. You’re spinning, holding onto him for dear life as he sucks your tongue into his mouth. Fuck, you knew his tongue would be good. It makes you light-headed as he licks into your mouth, fingers clawing at you as a whine escapes his throat. 
Suddenly the kiss breaks. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes and cotton-fuzz thoughts, lost in him. Jimin isn’t looking at you though, he’s looking at the DJ and yelling, pointing over your head as he detaches from you. 
“This is my fucking song,” he yells at you, as though he hadn’t been tongue fucking your mouth a moment ago. You look at him, dazed and confused. He notices and pops a kiss on your mouth. “God, you're needy. Don’t pout, I’ll kiss you more after.” 
“What makes you think I want to kiss you more?”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans forward and kisses you once. Twice. It’s sweet and leaves your mind scattered as he guides you backward slightly before smacking your ass lightly. 
“Watch,” he instructs. “And try not to be a brat about it, yeah?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Jerk by New Boyz is on in the background. Jimin sweeps his arms, backing people away before he starts walking quickly in a circle, bobbing his head to the music and making room for his little show. 
A circle clears in the middle of the dance floor. You cross your arms with raised brows, Michael Kors clutch tucked in your armpit as you watch Jimin wave people back as the song plays. All eyes are on him, cheering as he nods and smirks at the crowd, turning to blow you a cheeky kiss.
You roll your eyes but smile anyways.
Jimin decides he has enough room and right as the chorus starts, he begins to hop and shuffle his feet backward then forward. The crowd goes wild, clapping their hands as he manages to execute the jerk without slipping on the beer and liquor-stained floor.
He spins and drops low, going down to the floor. The crowd yells for him, clapping and cheering him on as Jimin slowly works his way back up. His devious tongue is tucked against his plush upper lip, the hint of a smirk on his mouth.
More guys join the dancing, showing off their moves. Jimin, not one to be outshined, sticks his tongue out all the way, rolling his eyes back as he shakes his head and hooks a thumb in the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal a flawless set of abs, shining in the glittering lights.
The women go crazy as he laughs manically, gesturing to his impressive physique to the other dancers, who roll their eyes and back off. You’re jostled from side-to-side, rolling your eyes when Jimin drops his shirt and dances his way over to you, eyes looking you up and down.
You give him an unimpressed look, yawning and looking the other way as he grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh through the jeans. “Come on,” he purrs. “Spoiled brat not impressed?”
You are. You just don’t want to be.
“Nope,” you say.
He crowds your space as the circle closes and the song changes. Jimin presses his hips against yours and your stomach drops. Your eyes snap back to his as his hands brush backward, squeezing the sides of your ass.
Jimin’s hot breath touches your lips. He smells like tequila and his cologne. He’s sweating through the Ed Hardy shirt, making it cling to the firm body underneath. Your toes curly slightly as you bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes.
“If that’s how good I dance,” Jimin murmurs, so close that his nose is touching yours. “Imagine how good I lay pipe.”
You cringe at the way he phrases it, but you’re intrigued. Your friends taunting you for your lack of sexual experience earlier replays in your mind. So you play along, raising a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around him when someone knocks into you. He noses the line of your jaw, breath warm in your ear when he whispers. “So like… you DTF or what?”
“What?”
“You know, down to fuck. I’ve been wanting to fuck the shit out of you since I saw you staring at me across the bar.”
“I was not staring.”
“Shit, I would stare if I were you too, baby.” 
You smack his shoulder, pulling away from him slightly. Your heart pounds in your rib cage as you stare at him. His eyes are expectant, waiting for your response. 
Before your ex, you would have never thought to sleep with someone you just met at a bar. You know very little about Jimin besides the fact that he likes to hear himself talk, that he’s a little arrogant and that he is wildly, ridiculously hot. 
Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip, squeezing your hips to tell you he’s still waiting on an answer. The way your stomach flips and you already feel arousal at the cocky way he asserts himself tells you what you want to say. 
“I think so…”
“You think so or you know so?” Your mouth is dry and you don’t know what to say, so you shrug. He seems to read you. “You never went home with a guy at a bar before?”
“No.”
“Come on,” he whines, sliding his hands in your back pockets. “I’ll be really sweet.”
“Yeah?”
He leans down, nudging his nose with yours. You laugh, leaning back a bit but Jimin is persistent, chasing the intimate contact. “Yeah. I’ll even make sure you cum first.”
“We’ll see.” His hands squeeze your ass through your pockets. “My place or-“
“Yours. My friends are stupid fucks.”
Sliding your hand in his, you pull Jimin along. He presses himself close to your back when you walk, sticking the hand not holding yours in your pocket to give your ass an experimental poke. You hiss at him but end up giggling when he wags his eyebrows up and down.
You find Tiffany and Nicole dancing with the original group of guys. Ben-Brian-Brad is glaring at you openly now, and Jimin is pressed behind you so close that you can feel the cool metal of his zipper on your lower back. 
Tiffany and Nicole assure you they’re going to another club and will go to the beach house that the guy group is staying at. With gloss-stain cheek kisses and goodbyes, you leave them dancing as Jimin wraps a hand around your waist, gluing you together as you stumble out into the night.
The strip of bars is full of people. Cool air kisses your skin, making you moan in relief a bit as you begin walking toward your hotel. Your steps are uneven, you and Jimin pushing one another back and forth as you try to navigate your way home. You stumble a little too far when he presses a kiss to your neck, leaning on you too much for your drunk weight to bear and sending you several steps. 
“Owww,” you whine. “That hurt my ankle. I’m in heels and my feet hurt, Jimin.” You drop his hand and look up at him, sticking out your bottom lip in an animated pout. “Give me a piggyback ride.” 
“Hmmm. What do I get in return?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you ride my back, I need to… ride you.”
You roll your eyes. “I already told you I’ll have sex with you, idiot.”
“Yeah but I could really use a good blow job.”
You scrunch your nose. “Fine.” 
Jimin grins, letting go of you to squat and look over his shoulder at you, eyes glittering. “All aboard the Park express. Next stop: pound town.”
Huffing, you place either hand on Jimin’s shoulders and jump a little. He catches you easily, hands gripping your thighs firmly. You shiver at the feeling of his hands. Jimin straightens and you wrap your arms around his neck, settling your chin over his right shoulder.
“You’re kind of a jerk-off, huh?”
He grins as he starts to walk. “A little. But you’re kind of a bitch, so I think it works.”
You hum - he has a point.
The piggyback ride is just as dangerous as the walk. Jimin walks crooked sometimes, only for you to yell and smack his shoulder to send him back in a straight line. He gets distracted by a pizza stand which makes you flick his ear. And when you’re finally in front of the automatic double doors to your hotel, he is gasping for air and immediately sags against the elevator wall.
“You’re fuckin’ heavy.”
“That is so rude.”
“Baby, I am wasted and I haven’t done coke in like a week. It’s not you - it’s me.”
“What a cheesy line.” 
“Speaking of.” His hand feels around his back pocket before dipping into the fabric and removing a tiny Altoid tin. “My sobriety will not come at the expense of me cumming early. I’m going to need a little extra to fuck you right.” 
“Thought you were quitting?”
“I mean, do you want me to get my dick up?” The elevator opens and you try to hide your laugh behind your hand. “And now you’re laughing at me? Baby you’re going to hurt my feelings.”
“Sorry, it was just funny. Do whatever you want. You promised to make me cum first.”
“Never had a guy who did that?”
“Nope.”
Jimin makes a disgusted noise as you swipe the hotel key card in the reader. It flashes green and you swing the door open into the freezing room. It’s a little disheveled, but it’s at least not an embarrassing display of the room. You’re suddenly thrilled that it’s a suite with two rooms. 
The door clicks behind you and Jimin slides closer to you, pulling you by the belt loops. You’re prepared for his kiss this time, opening your mouth the second his soft lips meet yours. It’s sloppy and wet, Jimin sucking your bottom lip hungrily as he pulls your belt loops a little harder.
Carefully, Jimin walks you backward. He taps the side of your thighs and dips down as you jump. He catches your legs, hauling you the rest of the way onto the island counter where you spread your legs for him. 
Jimin slots himself between your thighs easily. At this height, you’re more on his level, but Jimin leans into you, pushing you back slightly as he controls the kiss. It’s more eager and demanding than the one in the club, Jimin sucking on your tongue and licking the rough of your mouth experimentally. 
Planting his hands on either side of your ass on the counter, Jimin trails kisses along your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and you become breathy. His mouth is noisy and wet against your skin, sucking at the tender flesh under your ear gently before biting lightly. The pinch of skin makes you moan, the sound lost in the lighting above the counter.
“So fucking pretty,” Jimin murmurs, continuing his assault with his mouth. His tongue is just as dangerous, licking over each bite he places as he drifts to your collarbone. “You want a line?”
You shake your head no. He presses closed-mouth kisses back up your neck until he’s straightened out to be eye-level. He brushes your nose with his. Sticks his tongue out and watches you expectantly. You tentatively stick yours out too, making a squeal when his tongue licks at yours.
“Weirdo,” you murmur, cheeks heated and shivering when he pulls away from you to pop open the Altoid tin. There’s a tiny plastic bag inside, sealing the white powder. “You like using tongue.”
Jimin hums in agreement as he stays between your legs, untwisting the bag. “I have a good tongue,” he says as he leans over, dumping a little onto the counter. You watch wordlessly. “I like to eat pussy too.” 
You nearly lay back on the counter and ascend to heaven right there. No one has been so open and bold with you when speaking about sexual acts. And the fact that he says it so casually as he looks around for something flat with an edge makes you dizzy. You produce the room key and he grins, kissing your nose once before he takes it and cuts the powder into two, thin white lines. 
“Do you need a bill too?” you joke. He shakes his head and pulls out a dollar bill that looks like it was once crisp but has been rolled over and over and over, making it look soft and pliant. “You don’t use hundreds?” 
“I’m a model,” he grunts. “Not a Kardashian.” 
That makes you laugh. 
Jimin’s fingers are practiced as he rolls the bill. You can’t help but stare at the rings that you did not notice before, each one placed on a delicate finger. He has nice hands, veins jumping as he places one hand on the counter to hold himself up as the other holds the rolled bill. 
Your knees squeeze his sides a bit as Jimin does the first line. It’s loud in the apartment with just the sound of his sharp inhaling, so you lean a bit to hit the iPod on the iHome dock, flicking through the touchscreen to find a song you like. 
You settle on a playlist Tiffany has loaded in called Party Jamz. She Wolf starts playing loudly, drowning out the sound of Jimin finishing his second line as you hit the volume button a few times to lower it. 
Straightening, you come face to face with Jimin as he wipes his nose a bit, taking a few sharp inhales. He runs his tongue along the edge of the room key before swiping his finger through the residue on the counter. There’s not much coke on the pad of his thumb, but he holds it to your mouth, watching.
Obediently, you open your mouth. He slides his thumb under your upper lip, rubbing gently on your gums. You taste how bitter the drug is, making a bit of a face that makes him giggle as he removes his finger from your mouth, sucking the thumb into his mouth briefly. 
“You want a glass of water?” 
You nod and he vanishes from in between your legs. He sings to himself as he grabs glasses and goes to the fridge, the ice machine loud above the music. You watch him with heavy eyes, your body feeling a little like liquid from all the tequila. 
He reappears, holding a glass of water to your lips. He tilts it carefully as he drinks his own, dark eyes watching you. You sip carefully, the water cool and refreshing as he continues to tip the glass. A bead of water runs down your chin and neck. 
Jimin is fast. He sets down both cups of water and surges forward, tongue chasing the bead of liquid as it runs down your throat. You lean backward, keeping yourself up with your palms planted on the cool counter as Jimin kisses and bites your neck. A moan escapes your mouth and absently, you’re glad you chose Jimin to go home with you.
You grab Jimin by his face, pulling kiss-bitten lips to yours and devouring him whole. He grunts in appreciation, mouth cooled by the water as his tongue dances with yours. His handles are not idle, rubbing up and down your jean-clad thighs, alternating between the gentle press of fingers and pointed drag of nails. 
Jimin’s kissing is like nothing else you’ve had before. He’s skilled, leading you between fast, hungry clashing of teeth and tongue and slow, languid movements. You’re dizzy with him, a buzz of electricity under your skin and heat pooling in your stomach long before his hands dip to your zipper, pulling the metal down. 
Eager hands slide to your hips where Jimin gathers the fabric. Your kiss breaks momentarily, a single line of spit connecting you for a second before you lift your ass off the counter, letting Jimin pull harshly at your pants. The fabric slides, making him cuss out loud when he realizes you’re not wearing underwear. 
“Fuck,” he murmurs, tossing your jeans and pressing your thighs open. You shiver as the cold air hits your pussy. Jimin’s eyes are hungry as he drags a thumb up the center of your glossy folds, a high-pitched sound leaving you. “Spoiled brat wearing no underwear? You’re just dying to have this pussy fucked, huh?”
“Please.”
“Hmm.” Jimin presses his thumb into your clit. Your eyes roll back in your head. The pressure sends a shiver through you, sparking every nerve in your body as he barely wiggles his thumb back and forth. “Shit you’re so sensitive. Gonna scream while I eat you out?”
“Maybe.”
His thumb slides lower, teasing your clenching hole. You open your eyes, head heavy as you look at him. He’s slid down to his knees, looking up at you through long lashes with a smirk on his face. Your shirt is still on, but you don’t even care. Jimin’s hot breath is on your inner thighs as he bites your flesh softly, making your legs try to close.
“Don’t suffocate me,” he chastises you. “Wanna fuckin’ taste though.”
Everything turns to white noise as Jimin leans forward, running his long tongue from your dripping hole to your throbbing clit. You seize forward, gasping for air and clenching your fists as he pins your legs harder. Your muscles strain, the stretch a little painful but the good kind paired with the way he licks you slowly. 
Your blood turns into melted metal. You go boneless, laying back on the counter, knocking over cups, sending them scattering. You knock into the iHome, the iPod coming disconnected and cutting off the music. It doesn’t matter. Now you can hear the way Jimin sucks at your clit, making you moan loudly. 
From the moment you saw his tongue, you wondered what it would be like. You pictured nothing like this. Jimin eats you out slowly, tongue curious yet lazy as he circles your clit in a steady rhythm before sucking your bud into his mouth and squeezing with his lips lightly.
“Fuck, Jimin,” you whisper, voice hoarse from disuse. One of your hands falls across your eyes, blocking the light from the ceiling as Jimin splays you open for his mouth to explore. You’re panting, the other hand threading through his hair, gel making it easier to grab onto. “Feels so fucking good.”
And it does. 
“Tastes so sweet,” he mumbles, pulling away with a lewd, loud suck on your clit. “Your pretty little hole is just fucking dripping. Gonna fuck you open with my fingers to get you nice and stretched for me.”
You can’t come up with a verbal response. Something like a whine and hum of agreement slips out. Your hips twitch as his mouth turns firmer, tongue flicking over your clit quickly followed by his lips sucking at your wet hole.
There has never been a time someone enjoyed themselves so much while paying attention to your pleasure. Jimin is skilled and focused on bringing his fingers into the action. You feel him slowly trace the rim of your entrance with his fingers, applying just enough pressure to make you curse and squirm but not enough to slide in. 
It fucking aches. Your fingers tighten in his hair, begging him to make you feel fuller. Jimin chuckles, the vibrations going straight through you, your muscles spasming. 
Slowly, Jimin adds a single finger, the slide relieving some of the tension directly in your pussy. You let out a soft breath, sagging on the counter as he matches the gentle in-and-out of his finger with the steady licking of his tongue on your clit. 
The tight feeling of your orgasm is winding like a spring in your stomach. You can feel it, the pressure building and so compact that you struggle to breathe, finding yourself gasping for air when Jimin adds another finger to the mix. He applies pressure right against your front wall, pressing that spot that has you seeing stars.
You might be babbling now. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth. Stars are dancing behind your eyes and you struggle to remember not to hold your breath, to try and regulate your breathing as he increases speed. He’s messy now, sucking and licking and rubbing his nose against your clit. Jimin uses his entire face to get you off and you’re spiraling. 
It all happens at once. A deep breath in. Held tight in your chest, muscles seizing and your body going rigid. Jimin’s fingers push against your g-spot hard as he sucks your clit into his mouth and you scream.
Your orgasm snaps in half, everything going loose at once. You feel yourself clench around his fingers, so tight that Jimin pauses his movements, tongue licking at your sensitive pussy gently as you shake. Your hands cover your face now, breathing rapidly into your palms as the room fills with white noise. 
After a moment, your muscles start to relax. Jimin gives an experimental thrust with his fingers and you whine, making him laugh. 
“God, you came so fucking hard,” he growls from between your legs. He gently pulls his fingers from you, making you protest and drop your hands from your face. You open your eyes as the room spins, lifting your head to look where Jimin now stands between your legs. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, smirking around them. “Mmm. You’re a creamer. I like that.” 
You have no response for him. He doesn’t need one. Jimin lifts you from the counter and for a moment, the world tilts dangerously on its axis and you think you might vomit. The spinning is short-lived as he carries you to the bedroom, tossing you on the bed hard enough to make you bounce. 
“Jesus Christ, Jimin,” you mumble, righting yourself in the sheets. He laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it. Your eyes zero in on his body and your mind goes blank. “Jesus Christ, Jimin.”
“Jesus had nothing to do with this.” He smacks his abs with a hand. “This is creatine, determination, and seven days a week at the gym, baby.”
Jimin flexes his stomach. His chest and abs are toned and well-defined. The low lighting of the bar had done him an injustice that is rectified in the lamp light of the bedroom. There’s a black tattoo on his ribcage that you can’t read, but think looks really good on him anyway. 
Jeans slung low on his hips, Jimin shuffles over to the bed. You can see his dick straining against his pants. When he leans over to catch your lips with his, your hand immediately goes to his crotch, gripping gently through the material. He moans into your mouth, the kiss full of spit and your essence. 
From the way your hand presses against his straining cock, you can tell Jimin is big. With nervous hands, you pull at his zipper. He pulls away for a moment, leaving you frowning and confused.
“How do you get this fucking shirt off,” he mumbles, sliding a finger under the strap going across your stomach. “It’s confusing.”
“Like a normal shirt,” you giggle. 
“Like a normal shirt,” he mimes in a high-pitched voice. “Off. Wanna see those fucking tits.” 
Leaning forward, you help Jimin pull your shirt off, followed by the pink bra with a little bow in the middle. He doesn’t seem to have an appreciation for lingerie, immediately pushing you down by your sternum once you’re fully naked so he can lavish your chest with his mouth. 
Jimin’s mouth is always hungry. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, making you gasp and forget that you had been trying to get his pants off. You go limp as his tongue flicks over your pert bud experimentally, his other hand tweaking the opposite peak. Both bring out a response, eliciting a grin from him.
Remembering that Jimin is still in jeans, your hands surge forward, pulling at the zipper. You can see Calvin Klein briefs peaking just out the top of his jeans. With the zipper undone, there’s enough room for you to slide your hand in and grip Jimin’s cock firmly over the fabric of his briefs. 
“Shit,” he moans, head resting in the valley of your breasts. “Come on, take my cock out. Wanna stuff that mouth of yours full.” 
You don’t hesitate. You help Jimin out of his jeans, momentarily distracted by his powerful thighs and the way they flex as he bends to pull his briefs down. Your mouth goes dry as his heavy cock bobs against his navel when he’s free of his briefs. 
Jimin might be a lithe model, but his cock is anything but. 
Smooth, heavy, flushed-brown tip, and thick. Your hand goes for it as he crawls up the bed, straddling your waist and looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. Your hand wraps around the velvet shaft, making him twitch a bit. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, watching you give an experimental stroke. 
Jimin moans. It’s such a pretty sound. You shift under him to give yourself a better angle. Your hand drifts upward, collecting the pearly precum gathered at his tip. You spread it on his shaft on the downstroke, watching as Jimin’s eyes close, head falling back. 
You gather spit in your mouth, letting go of his cock briefly. He looks down as if to chastise you, but before his comment can escape, you spit into your palm and bring it back up to his cock, giving a smooth stroke, grip firmer and more precise as you twist at the head.
“God,” he moans as you watch his muscles spasm in his abs. “Don’t just jerk me off like a middle schooler, put me in your mouth.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m trying. Just suck me off a bit first.”
You huff at his impatience. 
Sliding further down the bed, Jimin meets you halfway, lowering a bit so that you can pull the tip of his cock into your mouth for an experimental suck. He curses and you grin, the saltiness on your tongue spurring you to take him in a little further.
It’s a vulnerable angle. Jimin can control the pace and fuck down into your mouth if he wants. Instead, he’s patient as you let the spit collect in your mouth, lifting your head to take a little more in your mouth each time.
Your tongue runs along the bottom of his shaft, providing a smooth glide as Jimin helps you out, sinking into your mouth a little more each time. He’s cursing and moaning above you, lost in the way you hollow your cheeks to provide better suction. You’re fascinated by the way his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and you realize he has a few freckles that are… endearing. 
It’s a weird thing to notice, so you suck harder, trying to focus on the task at hand. 
Jimin grows more needy, fucking into your mouth so that he’s controlling the pace. You adjust, letting your jaw go slack to accommodate the stretch - and it’s a difficult stretch - making sure to guard your teeth and to let your drool help the glide.
“Your mouth takes my cock so well,” he hums. “How about that throat? Can I fuck that too?”
You nod, which is difficult with a mouth full of Jimin’s precum and cock. He grits his teeth, grabbing the bottom of your jaw gently to adjust the angle and start fucking into your mouth in earnest. 
Breathing is difficult - you remind yourself to try and breathe through your nose, letting out little sounds of euphoria around him that rile him up. You can feel your essence dripping down your thighs, turned on by the way Jimin growls every time the tip kisses the back of your throat. 
Once or twice your throat seizes up around him. He’s careful to pull out and let you breathe for a moment, spit and a little cum leaking down the sides of your mouth and down your chin, tears pooling in your eyes.
With one hand, Jimin slides the glossy tip of his cock through the mess on your chin before tracing your lips a few times, smearing the mess over your swollen mouth. 
“Lipstick,” he murmurs, nearly ruining the moment.
Before you can reply, Jimin slides his cock back into the heat of your mouth, sighing in relief as he starts to thrust in earnest again.
Just as the crown of his cock starts to brush the deeper part of your throat, Jimin pulls out, cursing. “Need to fuck this messy pussy of yours or I’ll bust,” he growls. “Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty ass.” 
Crawling from underneath him, you do as he says, too eager to care that he’s bossing you around. Your limbs are trembling as you prop yourself up on your knees, ass in the air and chest and head pressed to the bed. You look at him sideways, cheek on the mattress as he settles behind you, hands kneading the fat of your ass, giving you experimental squeezes.
It feels nice, the way his hands soothe your muscles and skate over soft flesh. He gives you an experimental slap and you squeal, making him grin. 
“Gunna rearrange your fucking guts,” he murmurs, grabbing the base of his cock. 
“Wait - condom?”
He gives you a look. “What? Are we in middle school? I’m not fucking you with a condom, I won’t feel shit.”
“What? How do I know if you’re clean?” 
“Um, does it look like I have something?”
“You can’t always tell.”
“Well, I don’t have a condom.”
You pause, glaring at him. Neither one of you moves. “Okay, well then pull out.”
He scoffs. “Obviously I’m going to cum in your mouth like a gentleman.” 
You roll your eyes. Even though he is wildly attractive and can pull an orgasm out of you with oral, Jimin is still a fucking ass. But he’s an ass who is good at what he does, so you shut up. 
Not that you can speak as he runs his cockhead through your wet folds. You moan, hearing how wet you are for him. He pushes the tip of his cock in slightly, just enough to make your hole flutter around him. You gasp, fists twisting in sheets as he sits there, letting you clench and unclench around him.
“Jimin,” you moan. 
“Ask nicely,” he teases. “Or you’re just gonna get the tip of my cock. I can feel your pussy fucking begging for it. Now you need to ask.”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me.”
“Yeah? Want me to split you open?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to fuck that cervix until you’re screaming?” You pause. He pauses. “Okay that wasn’t very hot, was it?”
“Not really-”
Jimin cuts you off, thrusting in hard on a single upstroke. You gasp, mind going blank and forgetting about his terrible fumble at dirty talk as his cock does hit something inside of you that sends you into a torrent of heat and trembling limbs.
He sets a fast pace, not letting you adjust to his girth. Jimin’s hips piston perfectly against yours, your ass snapping back into his hips with each thrust. You can barely breathe, panting into the sheets as you bounce backward, sharing the effort to meet him for each powerful stroke.
It feels amazing.
You close your eyes, getting lost in the way his cock fills up every part of you, the slide smooth and velvet against your walls, the tip brushing gently against your g-spot every time he thrusts in. 
Your stomach feels like it's flipping over and over again, each one of Jimin’s thrusts so deep you swear you feel it in your chest. Your thoughts start to slip away, your front half sinking further into the mattress as Jimin’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass.
“Fuck,” he pants. “This pussy is so fucking tight. You're just fucking taking it and this ass-” he slaps your flesh sharply, making you squeal. “You hear that? Fucking getting clapped.” 
You don’t have it in you to be annoyed at him. And he has a point - the slap of hips against ass, balls against pussy is loud. 
The same feeling coils in your stomach again. You squeeze your eyes shut, barely able to breathe around the pleasure and the feeling of Jimin fucking you so full. It winds and winds and winds, and as it’s about to snap, you hold your breath.
Jimin gives a hard thrust followed by another, and you cum with a scream. You go from frozen, clenched muscles to boneless limbs in a moment. Jimin presses his hands into the small of your back, pushing you so far into the mattress that you can barely breathe as you bear his full weight.
With a few disjointed thrusts, Jimin cums, grunting and digging nails into your back.
For a few moments, neither of you moves. You can barely remember where you are, much less ask Jimin to pull his weight off of you to give you air. He’s still pressed into you, the heavy weight of him sinking you further into sweat-soaked sheets.
Jimin relents. He slowly pulls his cock out of you and you feel the mess slicking between your legs. It’s sticky and wet, more than you have ever felt before. He falls unceremoniously to the side, nearly wheezing for air.
The room is filled with heavy breaths and the smell of sweat and sex. Strands of hair and sheets stick to your skin. You shuffle, trying to roll over a bit to look at him. Your limbs are sore and stretched from the press of his hands and the force of his hips spreading yours, but it’s a good sore. 
Jimin is flushed, sweaty, and half-asleep. His hand is on his stomach, sticky with cum. 
“OH MY GOD YOU DIDN’T PULL OUT!” You scream, sitting up with sheets stuck to your back and hair all over. “YOU ASSHOLE!”
“Please stop screaming,” he groans, covering his face. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning.”
“You’re the fucking worst!”
“Well,” he sighs. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll fuck you again to make you feel better.” 
You cross your arms over your chest, heart racing. You stare at Jimin for a moment. Two moments. You drop your arms and lay back on the bed. “Yeah,” you huff. “Fine, whatever.”
Who were you to turn down another round like that? Your ex and his Escalade are long forgotten now.
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ladymunson · 1 year
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Perfect 18+
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Fic summary: Reader and Joel Miller have been friends for quite a long time, but been apart due to moving away. They finally reconnect after a year apart when one surprises the other with a unscheduled visit. Their reunion goes way different than either of them anticipated.
A/N: So here it is my very first Joel Miller fic, part one of three. Needless to say, this is going to contain serious SMUT! So definitely 18+ You have been warned.
Word Count: 2021
Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral sex (m+f giving and receiving), unprotected sex (bag it up people!), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, male ejaculation
Dividers made by the wonderful @firefly-graphics ❤️
Special thanks to @jobean12-blog. Thank you for your help 💕
I do NOT give permission for my work to be copied, translated or posted to any other platform.
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You’re having a week off, and you’ve earned it. After spending three months working every single day to get this project off the ground, you’re finally having a day to yourself. You slept in until 11 , then decided to go out and run errands stopping off at your favourite coffee shop on your travels.
As you step into the shop, a familiar bearded face comes into your peripheral. “Joel?!” You look at him, completely stunned. He comes rushing towards you. You smile as he reaches you and pulls you into a massive bear hug. You hug him back, holding him tightly for a moment. You wait for his hug to loosen before loosening yours. “Long time no see, how are you?” He asks as he releases you from the hug.
“I’m good, all the better after that hug!” You say with a smile. “What are you doing here!?”
Joel grins before replying, “I’m here to man the international space station, why do you think I’m here? You smell amazing by the way!” He puts his arm around you as he leads you over to a table, his hand lingering longer than it should. “So what are you having?” He asks as you sit down.
“Just a latte for me” you reply.
“Okay, back in a few” he says as he makes his way to the counter. While he’s gone you sit and think about how you both met all those years ago. Who knew that meeting someone in a chat room fifteen years ago would lead to a friendship like yours? And who knew that you lived a few blocks away from each other?
You spent so much time together over the years, watching football together, poker nights, movie nights. And all as just friends, nothing has ever happened between you besides the occasional snuggle while watching a movie, when you’ve fallen asleep on him.
“Here you go” he says as he places your drink in front of you. He puts his drink down and takes a seat. You weren’t single the last time you saw each other and neither was he, things are different this time. You’ve gone from just friends to sexting buddies over the past six months, almost the entire time you’ve been away. You don’t remember how it happened exactly but the thought of taking this friendship further, excites you.
“So... how is work?” You ask, unsure how to start a conversation that isn’t sex related. Until you moved away, normal conversation wasn’t as issue for you but since the sexting began…
He laughs before answering you. “Work is tiring and boring compared to sitting here with you.” You blush.
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You continue talking for over an hour, the excitement building the longer your conversation goes on.
“So... do you have to rush off? I’m only here for three days and I’d love to hang out more.” He asks.
“Nope, I’m off work for so I have no plans for the rest of the evening.” You reply with a shy grin.
“Good.” Joel says before taking your hand and getting up from the table. He walks you outside, putting his arm around you again to keep you warm as the cold wind picks up. He hails a cab and you get in, he gives the address of the hotel where he’s staying and the taxi turns in the needed direction. Joel pulls you close and you sit together, you snuggle into him and hear him sigh.
The journey to the hotel takes around ten minutes, when you arrive he pays the driver and you walk together up to the entrance. Butterflies dancing in your stomach in anticipation for what is to come.
Joel takes your hand and leads you in the direction of his room, his speed increased slightly from earlier. You get to his room and he uses his keycard to open the door, he lets you in first and steps in behind you. He switches on the light and closes the door behind himself. You shrug out of your jacket and place it on the hook on the wall beside the door, walking further into the room.
Joel grabs your hand and pulls you towards him. “I’ve been waiting six months to do this” he says as he spins you around and pushes you against the door, pinning your hands above your head. His mouth crashing down on yours as he kisses you hard. He lets your hands go momentarily as he takes off his jacket, before grabbing them again and deepening the kiss. Your tongues lapping furiously together as the passion heightens. He breaks the kiss, “Don’t fucking move!” Joel commands as he bends and unzips your boots, removing them and tossing them across the room. He then grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head, exposing your full breasts in your favourite red bra. He groans before pulling his shirt off too, throwing it aside, then grabs your chin with one hand. His other takes ahold of your hands again as he kisses you with even more passion and hunger than before.
Joel grabs your left breast in his hand roughly, making you moan into his mouth. Before the hand makes its way down your body, rubbing your pussy over your leggings. You moan again louder making his touch even more urgent. He reaches inside your leggings and panties to find your pussy, wet and waiting. Joel growls as he parts your folds and touches your clit, you groan as he rubs circles around your clit. It hardens at his touch.
Joel drops to his knees and grabs the top of your leggings and panties pulling them down and removing them. He parts your legs before grinning up at your and places his whole mouth over your mound. You gasp and grind your hips instinctively, your breath quickening.
His tongue flicks over your clit making you sigh before parting your lips with his fingers and taking your clit between his lips and sucking gently.
Your hands that had stayed above your head fall down and your palms push against the door. Your hips still grinding into his mouth. Your breathing becoming heavy, you put your hands on his head and pull him closer, his mouth and tongue exploring your pussy that’s getting wetter by the second.
“Ugh! You’re gonna make me cum... Joel... I’m gonna cum!” You scream, he grabs ahold of your ass so you can’t pull away, his licking and sucking getting faster. Your orgasm hits hard, you writhe and moan. His sucking gets harder as he tries to take in all your juices, he moans, the vibration running through you making the orgasm last longer.
You eventually come down from that massive high. He kisses your sensitive pussy gently, sending mini shockwaves through you.
He stands up, your breathing still jagged as he kisses you. He whispers your name before kissing you again. You push him back giving yourself room to get down on your knees and open the belt and zipper of his jeans, pulling them down. His erection bouncing as it is exposed. He steps out of the jeans and looks down at you. He growls and grabs you by the throat, pulling you to your feet.
“Let’s see if you really do like it” he growls as he drags you over to the table. Bending you face down over it. Your hands splayed out on the table either side of your face, anticipating what is coming.
Thwack!
The sound of the spank echoing around the room, followed by you gasping and moaning.
Thwack!
He slaps the other cheek, causing a similar echo followed by a louder moan. He looks down and sees your pussy dripping with lust, another growl escapes his lips.
Thwack!!!
The sound of both cheeks being spanked at the same time eludes you as you concentrate on the ecstasy of the feeling. He drops to his knees again and kisses up your thighs, skipping over your dripping pussy to kiss away the sting of the spanks. Before burying his face in your dripping pussy once again. You groan loudly as his mouth clamps over you, sucking hard, his tongue flicking up and down. He stiffens his tongue and slides it inside your wet cunt, your eyes widen and you let out a gasp.
He groans again before standing and placing his cock at your soaking wet entrance, “Bare?” Your mouth opens as you feel him rub the head up and down. Covering himself in your slick before sinking inside you.
“I don’t want anything between us.... Oh fuck!” You gasp again as he reaches the deepest part of you. “Y/N...” Joel groans out as he backs up, then sinks inside you again. His hands on your hips as he moves in and out of you. You grunt every time he hits that sweet spot deep inside of you. You smirk to yourself then use your inner muscles to squeeze his cock.
He lets out a loud growl and he pounds into you harder. He begins moving more urgent, more frantic. Chasing the orgasm he craves.
“Y/N... fuck... yes!!” Joel groans between thrusts. You reach up and put your hand on the wall, raising yourself a little. Hoping to catch a glimpse of you both in the mirror. He senses what you’re trying to do so he grabs a handful of your hair, pulling on it so your head is high enough to see in the mirror. You catch Joel’s eye and you make eye contact, he curls his lips in a snarl and fucks you harder. Your eyes roll back in your head as you let the lust fill you, your orgasm building.
“I’m gonna cum inside you, you hear me?” He growls. You nod. “I can’t hear you!” He grunts.
“Yes. Cum in me. Please!” You beg. He lets out a roar as he climaxes, unloading inside you. His grip on your hair tightening, as he yanks you back into him.
Your climax hits hard, you jerk violently and scream out loud. He continues to fuck you hard as he rides his orgasm out inside you. Your legs growing weak as he finally collapses onto your back, breathing heavily as he kisses your shoulder. He stands and pulls out of you, your mixed cum dripping out and onto the beige carpet.
Joel reaches for you and pulls you to you, your legs are shaking so he sweeps you up into his arms and heads for the bed. Laying you down gently and climbing onto the bed beside you. Pulling you close, holding you as your breathing returns to normal.
“That was worth the ten years wait!” Joel says with a grin.
“I thought it was six months?” You question, confusion clear on your face.
“Nah I lied, I’ve wanted to do that as long as I’ve known you.” You blush and bury your face in his chest. He rolls you over so he’s on top of you.
“And we’re gonna do that again, just as soon as I can.” Joel says as he kisses you. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. You feel movement down near your legs. “Looks like it’s not going to be a long wait”
TO BE CONTINUED
Next
Tags: @bettyfrommars @jobean12-blog
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dangerously-human · 3 months
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3, 26, 50 for the writer ask game :)
Thank you for your patience, I know I took forever to answer all of these but this one took even longer because I decided to indulge myself with ALL the details and that was a time-consuming genuine delight. 😅
3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?
I am a big fan of playing with metaphor and challenging myself with defined structure. Years ago, I wrote a Continuum fic (Still Here) with POV from every character in the story, with the swaps happening in a sort of chain based on who the characters interacted with - Dillon talks to Carlos, then we're in Carlos's POV until he thinks about Garza, then we're with Garza until she picks a fight with Emily, and so on - all looking at the same theme of how Kiera returning to her time left a hole that deeply affects everyone she left behind. Love giving myself a theme to work around, like chapters in developing relationship fic each based on a color of the rainbow. As is probably quite apparent, I enjoy writing "five times/things" fics and drabbles, and combining the two. Sometimes I go a step further and do the variations on a theme thing for five interconnected drabbles, like the Sparky five senses series. I like giving myself a challenge with fanfiction so it still feels like I'm growing my writing skills, even though a lot of things come easier than with original works.
26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?
Easy, I write fics sans dialogue all the time. I do really enjoy dialogue and I think I've improved my ability to write it a lot, but introspection is still where I thrive.
50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!
Oh goodie, love this question! I'm going to answer 29: What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [Here's a Safe Place to Lay Your Heart Down]? Explain your choices if you want!
I never used to be the kind of writer who had separate playlists for individual projects (outside of the occasional original work), just one massive playlist for the fandom. It's been a fun way to focus on some of the more effort-heavy, long-term WIPs! Here's the one for the ring fic:
The Graduate - The Arcadian Wild: The bittersweetness of growing up and your perspective shifting so you see the world as it truly is, for better and worse simultaneously. "When you were younger, you dreamed of being tall, but you discovered growing up just leaves you feeling small" / "Failing is fruitful, so long as we do not forget to move" / "We are wandering through the wild, we are wondering when not if we'll reach the other side... When we were ever alone? Together we'll make our way home"
Anomaly - Angels & Airwaves: Lockwood crush angst! "I never wanted to say how much I liked you, I never wanted to be one of your sad discoveries" - not feeling worthy of Lucy
Dark Mirage - Matthew Parker, HIDDEN EYES: Lockwood struggling and Lucy feeling helpless. "I don't possess the power to drive off the darkness that's haunting you, I pray the truth gets louder" - Felt fitting for the wallowing portions of this fic, considering Lockwood vastly overestimates his negative effect on Lucy. Also like... this level of angst is exactly what Lockwood is terrified of inflicting on Lucy, it's not actually like this but he's worried it could be if he's not constantly on high alert (which is what Lucy tells him she's willing to do if he ever needs it)
Taxi Cab - Twenty One Pilots: Ooh, this one hits hard on so many Lockwood & Co levels. "I wanna fall inside your ghost and fill up every hole inside my mind, and I want everyone to know that I am half a soul divided" is just such a good way to showcase Lockwood's growth, from the soul divided being between life and death to being part of a whole (with Lucy). The repetition of "don't be afraid" throughout a lyrical story that is so Lockwood all over just. Argh, it's very very hard for me to put this one into words. Like how the "don't be afraid" could at first be giving up but then it's a promise not to. And it gets at the same idea as the books do with Lockwood as both Christ figure and the one saved ("and then I asked them, am I alive and well or am I dreaming dead? And then one turned around to say, we're driving toward the morning sun, where all your blood is washed away and all you did will be undone"). There's a lot of imagery here I associate with the Other Side and the return, and so I connect it with Lockwood sort of dying and, upon symbolic resurrection, choosing a new life that involves opening himself up to Lucy... Ugh, yeah, this one's harder to explain, it just means a LOT to me
Hot Tea - half•alive: Obsessed with this as Lockwood being pathetically in love, tbh ("Wanna be here ar your door 12am and sleeping on your porch until you get in, looking into your eyes endlessly, crawling into your lap desperately"), and "can't afford to lose you any longer" fits very well for the canon era chapter, but also just the warmth of belonging to each other ("Hold you in my hands like hot tea, knowing I'm safe 'cause you want me")? That is always the Locklyle vibe I'm going for, but especially in this fic. Also the line "sip you through my front teeth" makes me think of Lockwood and his blue whale thing, hahaha
Spiders - Bear's Den: I will eventually come back to write the spiders symbolism kidfic that slots in later in this series, which is the only reason I did not end up using these lyrics for this fic despite it fitting the vibe so well. (Love, I'm Trying had at least three WIPs competing to use it as a title for a while there.) But, yeah, the whole thing with spiders as indicative of a haunting lends extra power to this one in an L&Co context, with lines like "I can't take back all the hurt I've caused, everything I love I have somehow lost, it's four in the morning abd the spiders are crawling in my mind, replaying pictures of all I can't undo, love, I'm trying, but I can't oull myself when the darkness comes" - and that being when Lockwood has to learn to go to Lucy, because that's what they do for each other, they pull each other out when they can't do it alone
Rain Clouds - The Arcadian Wild: The growth! While usually I associate this song more with Lucy, it does still work for Lockwood and the guilt he carries, moving from "I'm being shadowed by my past, reminding me of what I was and what I could become" to a sort of conversation of "I need someone to be my guide, listen to my voice, close your frightened eyes, hide behind my love for you, fear's only a choice, one that we all must make someday"
BREAKFAST - half•alive: Chosen as the title source for good reason; this song is all about vulnerability and the mortifying ordeal of being known, and practicing embracing the safety of leaving your heart in someone else's hands - starting out feeling reluctant and even panicky at the idea of openness ("I fled to the walls, yeah, be sure I'm surrounded, where no one can find me") to fighting your instincts and opening up no matter how hard it is, and being met with the reassurance of being seen and loved in all your complexity ("say you're open through tears and trembling, it's a major step, it's okay to fret, here's a safe place to lay your heart down"), and the reminder that messing up doesn't mean you've broken the relationship irreparably ("it's a second chance, it won't be your last"), which is a message Lockwood really needs to hear from Lucy in this fic, as they repeat old patterns with new endings
Lifeline - Angels & Airwaves: The forgiveness and gentleness Lucy offers Lockwood - "We all make mistakes, here's your lifeline"
Your Burden is Mine - Sarah Sparks, Kenny Komatsu: The doing life together part, a reminder that it's pride that intereferes with letting love in - "Don't spare me from anything, your burden is mine" / "Careful, my brother, there on your own, for it is a fool who suffers alone, there's none self-sufficient, only those who try, so swallow your pride, your burden is mine"
TrusT - half•alive: Ooh, this song absolutely messes me up re: redemption, and also unchanging adoration/stability even in the midst of conflict. Lockwood needs to hear it from a romantic relationship perspective ("rest and know the love you hold won't be taken back, no, how sweet the taste of certainty, the gift you gave is safe with me"), but it hits hard for me from a Christian theology perspective - and isn't that just the surprise theme of this fic, the ways marriage is meant as an echo of Christ's love for his bride, the Church. Also fits really well for this in-between space they find themselves in as they have an answer for the Problem yet are still working on the solution ("the tug of war in the now-not-yet... can you tell me why I feel this way? I have faith that the world I'm in will be redeemed again, but there's a weight that I can't explain, so tell me why I feel this way"), which I think is a tension in the background of most of my work in this particular series
The Kitchen - Tow'rs: For the imagery of dancing together in the kitchen as a way of making amends after a fight - "You made me dance in the kitchen with you, if I was the night then you were the moon"
What Home Feels Like - The Afters: Gosh this song is so CUTE, and that is the Locklyle vibe! Just the idea of finding home and belonging with the person you love - "There is no place I'd rather be for the first time in my life, I know what home feels like" / "No, I never wanna leave, 'cause I've found where I belong, this is what home feels like"
Let's Get Married - Bleachers: This is THE love post-trauma song, and fits the warmth of 35 Portland Row so well along with Lucy and Lockwood promising to make it work even when it's crazy hard, because they recognize where they're a little broken but they also believe building a life together is worth it
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museywrites · 7 months
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Xiantober 2023 - Day 4: Ghost!Xian
Word Count: 5,064 Pairing: Wangxian Tags: Ghost Wei Ying, Major character death (kinda? He's a ghost), altered characters ages, murder, death
"Wei Ying is dead." 
The news devastated the town. Another life gone, and far too soon. His parents wept and the town mourned the loss of such a charismatic young boy. 
Wei Ying died at the age of 10, murdered by the hands of some cruel person and left in the middle of the park to be found. He was the latest of a string of murders in the town, the youngest by far, since most victims had been young women in their 20s. 
Wei Ying was also the last of the victims in the town.
It was a weird experience, attending your own funeral. 
Wei Ying stood beside the grave, watching as the casket was lowered into the ground. He glanced around at his friends and family, saw their tears and their grief. Anger bubbled inside of his transparent chest.
Then, by chance, he made eye contact. The young Lan boy from down the street who Wei Ying had desperately tried to befriend, but he was always too shy and ran away, always avoiding A-Ying.
Yet right here, right now, surrounded by the people he loved most who couldn't see him,
this young boy was looking directly at him with wide eyes. 
Wei Ying lifted his hand hesitantly and waved. 
Lan Zhan's gaze flicked to his hand, then back to him, and just as hesitantly, he gave a little wave back. 
And that was the start of Wei Ying's new life.
Or rather, life in death. 
He attached himself to Lan Zhan, following him around constantly. 
At first, Wei Ying didn't have enough energy to talk to Lan Zhan, or to touch the living world, he was just there. 
And truth be told, it drove Wei Ying up a wall.
He wanted to talk to Lan Zhan so badly, but for once in his life, he had to shut his mouth and all he could do was listen. So he did.
He followed Lan Zhan around constantly, sitting with him as he did his school work, rolling around in the air as the Lans sat silently for meals. Occasionally, Lan Zhan would write questions down in his notebook and let Wei Ying point to letters to spell out answers. It wasn't the most efficient, but it kept Wei Ying from going crazy. 
Then, one night, almost a year after Wei Ying's passing, a massive thunderstorm hit.
With each roaring crack of thunder, the house shook, and Lan Zhan huddled under his covers, terrified. 
Wei Ying felt powerless, he wanted nothing more than to help his new friend. Without thinking, he reached out and touched Lan Zhan's hand, both boys startled when they felt contact. 
That;s when they learned that the electricity from the storm helped give Wei Ying more corporeal form. He stayed beside Lan Zhan all night, holding his hand until he fell asleep. 
For years, their friendship went on like this.
Lan Zhan remained the only one who could see Wei Ying and he never told anyone about him. 
As Lan Zhan began to grow, so did Wei Ying. 
By the time both boys were fifteen, Wei Ying had learned enough about his life after death to alter himself, aging right beside Lan Zhan, but he also learned how to manipulate his surroundings. He could touch Lan Zhan whenever he liked now, not just during storms, he could pick up light objects and move them short distances. 
His favorite thing to touch was Lan Zhan's ribbon he always had braided into his hair.
By the time the boys turned 18, Wei Ying hand, unknowingly, learned to project his voice just enough for Lan Zhan to hear him. 
To keep himself from going insane, Wei Ying often would prattle on about everything and nothing just to get things off his chest.
Today was one of those days.
"Lan Zhan, I'm so bored."
"Mn."
"I mean I'm glad you can see me but I miss talking! I can't remember the last time I've had a conversation that wasn't through pen and paper!" He whined, laying back in the air with his arms crossed behind his head.
"Mn, even when we were little, Wei Ying loved to talk." Lan Zhan answered nonchalantly. 
"Exactly! I'm a social butterfly! I'm meant to talk and interact! And I mean, I'm totally cool with the fact you're the only one who can see me, but I wanna talk to you too!" He huffed "How am I supposed to tell you how handsome you look! Or that I don't like that Su She guy who keeps flirting with you at school! I'm so glad you graduated, but I doubt that's the last we'll see of him."
"I believe he is going to the same college as us."
He chose 'us' since Wei Ying always attended classes with Wei Ying and Wei Ying had helped pick out the college. 
Wei Ying sat up abruptly. "See!! He's definitely stalking you! How can you... be so..." He paused, his gaze meeting the warm honey of Lan Zhan's.
"Lan Zhan...?"
"Mn?"
"Can... Can you hear me?" 
"Mn." 
Wei Ying's eyes widened before he darted around the room excitedly, knocking over several things in the process. 
Lan Zhan didn't get a moment of silence for almost two weeks.
Then the boys turned 20. 
Wei Ying and Lan Zhan had an... interesting relationship to say the least. Wei Ying was dead and Lan Zhan was the only one who could see and hear him. They were best friends. 
It should have been the end of it.
But Wei Ying couldn't deny the jealousy he felt every time someone flirted with his Lan Zhan. When their touches would linger too long or when they would put themselves in Lan Zhan's path so he couldn't move on.
One such person was Su She. He had a weird obsession with Lan Zhan and Wei Ying hated it. He talked badly about him behind his back, but would always be extra touchy. 
Today was one of his touchy days. His hands had gone to Lan Zhan's arms five times too many, and Wei Ying had enough. Without thinking, he kicked Su She in the back of the leg, making his legs buckle and he stumbled to the ground. 
"Who--" He whipped around to see no one there and paled slightly, but quickly cleaned up his fallen books and hurried off.
Wei Ying took to doing this often. He'd pull his hair, push him, knock his things out of his hands, until Lan Zhan scolded him.
"Enough."
"What?" Wei Ying reeled back a little, he had never heard Lan Zhan talk so firmly to him. 
"Stop harassing Su She."
Wei Ying tensed, his eyes narrowing. "No! He keeps harassing you." 
"Just ignore him."
"Why? Do you like him or something?" He snapped. 
"Wei Ying." He said firmly, not liking being accused of such a blasphemous thing. 
Wei Ying's eyes widened before he glared at Lan Zhan. "Fine." He turned and took off down the hall, disappearing into one of the walls. 
Lan Zhan sighed before he headed to his next class. The last thing he wanted Wei Ying to be classified as was a poltergeist. He wouldn't put it past Su She to try and have Wei Ying exorcized.
Unfortunately, this little misunderstanding led to their first fight. 
For the first time in ten years, Wei Ying refused to go near Lan Zhan. He knew he was being childish, he knew he was blowing this up from nothing, but Wei Ying was hurt.
He knew the day would come when Lan Zhan found interest in someone... But did it have to be now? Did it have to be him?
Wei Ying wasn't sure what to do with himself, so he left. 
He wandered aimlessly until he found himself at his own home.
His parents had long since moved, the memory of their son's murder weighed heavy on them. Wei Ying couldn't blame them, but he did miss them. 
With a sigh, he flew off to the cemetery, settling down against his tombstone. 
For almost two weeks, this went on.
Wei Ying avoided Lan Zhan constantly, refusing to return to Lan Zhan's home, refusing to go to the school. And when Lan Zhan came looking for him, he hid. 
He realized if Lan Zhan was finally interested in dating, then he couldn't be around him anymore. It would hurt too much.
It was on the fifteenth day of avoiding Lan Zhan that Wei Ying was wandering the town when he felt a cold chill run down his spine, as if every part of his body wanted to dissipate into the ether. 
He glanced around in confusion until his eyes landed on a man.
Wei Ying wasn't sure where he had seen him before, just just being near him made his ghostly body feel uneasy.  He didn't want to be near him, he didn't want to see him. 
He needed to find Lan Zhan. 
Without hesitating, he turned and hurried back to Lan Zhan's apartment.
When Wei Ying first got there, Lan Zhan was nowhere to be found, but he didn't want to risk missing him by going out to find him, so he waited. 
It wasn't until well after midnight when Lan Zhan returned. He was exhausted, and Wei Ying could see how unwell he looked.
"Lan Zhan! You're home! I'm so sorry abou-- Lan Zhan are you okay?" 
Lan Zhan heaved a sigh and moved further into his apartment before he sat on his couch, head in his hands. 
"Hey! Lan Zhan, I said I'm sorry, don't ignore me, okay?" 
But he got no response.
Panic filled the ghost and he tried to grab onto Lan Zhan's arm, but his hand phased through him. 
No.
No! No! No!"
"Lan Zhan?! Lan Zhan, why can't I touch you anymore?!"
"Wei Ying..." 
"Yes! You can still see me, right?!" 
"Where did you run off too? It's been two weeks."
Wei Ying stilled, looking at his best friend, at the only person who could see him... used to see him, he was suddenly hit with the realization that if Lan Zhan couldn't see or hear him, then Wei Ying would truly be alone. 
"...Is... is this my fault?"
Wei Ying sank onto the couch beside Lan Zhan, his heart and his mind heavy. 
"Lan Zhan... I'm not ready to be alone yet." He said quietly, knowing that no reply would come.  
"This is all my fault. If I had just listened to you.... if I had just stopped messing with him..."
Wei Ying's thoughts were cut off when Lan Zhan's cell phone rang, and he sighed, pulling it from his pocket. 
"Yes?" Lan Zhan frowned. "Tomorrow? Ge, I really don't want to have a family dinner right now... a guest?" 
Wei Ying watched Lan Zhan, a frown on his lips. Then, as if by some divine intervention, Wei Ying had an idea. He recalled the fight night he was able to touch Lan Zhan, and without thinking, he reached out and touched Lan Zhan's phone. 
He felt the small zap of electricity, before Lan Zhan frowned. 
"Ge, my phone is dying, I'll call you back tomorrow. Yes, I'll be at the dinner." He assured before hanging up and looking at his phone oddly. "I haven't used it all day." 
Then he jumped when he felt a brush against his skin, looking over, half expecting Wei Ying, but saw nothing.
But it gave Wei Ying the information he needed. In an instant, he was running around the house, draining the power from all of Lan Zhan's electronics, not caring that he was causing the lights to flicker or the microwave to go off. He needed Lan Zhan to see him!
Lan Zhan, however, was mildly freaked out by the sudden happenings in his home. That is, until he caught sight of Wei Ying standing in front of the TV. 
He was more faded than usual, but he was there! 
"Wei Ying?" 
The ghost paused, he looked over in shock before his eyes widened then promptly filled with tears. He hurried forward and crashed into Lan Zhan's chest, hugging him tightly. "L-lan Zhan!!!" 
"Wei Ying?! Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you. Do you know how scared I was?"
Yet he wasted no time in hugging the other back. "Why are you so hard to see?" 
"I don't know! I was so scared you'd never see me again!" 
Lan Zhan frowned and hugged him close, glancing around at the electronics going haywire. "It's okay, Wei Ying. You are here. I am here."
The two stayed in their embrace for several long, needed minutes before Lan Zhan finally pulled back and cupped his face. "Wei Ying, I've been worried sick about you. Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?"
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Lan Zhan." He whined, "For leaving, for messing with Su She, for being such a brat! I'm so sorry!" 
Lan Zhan frowned, he had never seen the other breakdown like this, not even when he told him his parents moved away. 
With a sigh, he pulled him close and hugged him once more.
"Everything's okay now. I'm not mad, so don't cry anymore, okay?" 
Wei Ying only nuzzled into his shoulder and sniffled. "You came home and couldn't see me... or hear me... I thought... I thought that--" 
"Shh.. it's okay... I can see you just fine now..." He assured.
"Is that why you were messing with my electronics?" 
"Mhm." 
"You did a good job, Wei Ying... maybe you were just out of energy." He supplied, carefully coaxing him to sit with him. 
It took another hour for them to both truly calm down, and by then, Lan Zhan was exhausted.
It was already well past his bedtime, and he was so relieved for Wei Ying to be home that he passed out on the couch. 
Wei Ying stayed pressed to his chest the whole night. 
The next morning, Wei Ying told Lan Zhan about his week. About how he stayed at the cemetery, but most importantly, he told him about the man. About the feeling he got when he saw him.
Lan Zhan frowned, and for the first time since they met, he decided to ask Wei Ying a very personal question.
"Wei Ying... how did you die?"
"I-" He frowned. "I don't really remember?"
"You don't remember?" 
"No... I remember going out to play," he glanced down at his hands. "I was exploring a part of the city I've never been to before. It was old and rundown. I--" He frowned, his body flickering lightly. "I remember hearing something weird... and then pain."
"There was so much pain." He shook his head and touched his throat. "I remember... crying... and... then I woke up and no one could see me or hear me. I found out that I was killed... and then at the funeral you saw me... but that's it." 
Lan Zhan frowned.
"The news said you were murdered. It was a closed casket funeral. Your murderer was never found." 
"Could... could the guy I saw be the guy who killed me?" 
"...I am not sure. If you wish to look into it, we can pull up the articles on your death later."
Wei Ying nodded.
For now, they needed to go to Lan Zhan's uncle's home for dinner. Or at least, Lan Zhan did.  But Wei Ying had no intention of leaving Lan Zhan's side again. 
So once he got cleaned up, they headed off to Lan Qiren's home. 
When they arrived, Xichen greeted Lan Zhan warmly and led him inside. 
"So, who is the guest you mentioned?"
"It is a few guests, actually. Do you remember the Wei family who lived down the street?" 
Lan Zhan stopped. "...I do." 
He nodded. "They've come to town to visit their son's grave."
He explained lightly. "Uncle invited them over. And an old acquaintance of theirs and uncles is here as well." 
Lan Zhan nodded lightly and glanced at Wei Ying, wanting to make sure he was okay, but instead, he saw the ghost still standing in the entryway.
His eyes were wide, his body stiff. He refused to take a step. 
Lan Zhan frowned and glanced at his brother. "Ge, I'll join you in the sitting room in a moment. I forgot something in the car." 
"Of course." 
He waited for his brother to leave before he went to Wei Ying.
"Wei Ying? Are you alright?" He asked softly, "If... if seeing your parents is--" 
"It's not them." He shook his head. "He's here. The man I told you about. I can feel it. I... Lan Zhan, my whole body feels like static." 
Lan Zhan frowned and gently took his hand. "Wei Ying, it is okay. I am here, he cannot hurt you again..."
"But he can hurt you. he can hurt your family... my parents. I... Lan Zhan if he... if he is the one who killed me--" 
"Wangji!" 
Lan Zhan glanced towards the living room and sighed. "Stay with me. Don't let go of me, okay?"
Wei Ying nodded. 
"If it becomes too much, we'll leave." Family be damned. If this man really was the one who murdered Wei Ying like Lan Zhan suspected, then he wanted to find out who it was, find a way to prove he was guilty. 
So into the room they went.
There, sitting at the table, was Lan Zhan's uncle and brother, Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren, and then a man that Lan Zhan did not know. 
"Wangji, you remember the Wei’s, right?" 
"Mn. It's a pleasure to see you both." He bowed politely to them and Cangse Sanren smiled warmly.
"Oh, you've grown so much since we last saw you." She spoke warmly, but Lan Zhan could see a tiredness in her eyes.
Lan Zhan gave her a faint smile before his uncle introduced their other guest. "I don't believe you've ever met before, Wangji, this is Wen Ruohan. He used to be a business partner of mine and the Wei's."
Wei Ying's gaze landed on the man in question, his hold on Lan Zhan tightened. 
For a moment, flickers of forgotten memories came rushing back. The sound of someone screaming. The sound of something unnatural cracking. The sound of something wet hitting the ground.
Wei Ying was certain if he was alive he would be hyperventilating right now. 
He remembered tripping and making a lot of noise. He remembered trying to run. 
He remembered being grabbed. 
Wei Ying did not die quickly. 
The anxiety and fear in his body began to grow, and without warning, Wei Ying fell forward, his ghostly form falling into Lan Zhan before dissipating. 
A cold child traveled down Lan Zhan's spine before his whole body shivered violently. 
"Wangji? Are you alright?" Xichen stood, but 'Lan Zhan' held a hand out to ease him.
"Sorry, I'm okay." He bowed in greeting to Ruohan before taking his seat. 
All dinner, 'Lan Zhan' kept his mouth shut and his eyes downcast. He listened as Wei Changze told them that the 10 year anniversary was approaching and they wanted to do something special.
He learned that every year on the day of his death and on Wei Ying's birthday, his parents come to visit him. This year, however, they wanted to hold a memorial service in honor of their son. 
"It truly was a tragedy." Ruohan nodded. "They never did catch his killer, did they?"
"No." Sanren hung her head. "The authorities said that the murder was in line with the others that had happened, but after A-Ying, the trail went cold. They had nothing to go on." 
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"I just hope his soul is at peace."
Lan Qiren nodded in agreement.
"I'm sure he is." 'Lan Zhan' said lightly, surprising the family since it was the first he spoke. 'What happened to Wei Ying was awful.. and... I didn't know him well, but he was always happy. I'm sure he's found a way to be happy now." He met Ruohan's gaze. "And I'm certain they'll find who hurt him one day." 
Cangse Sanren smiled warmly and nodded. "You're right. He was such a lively little boy. He tried so hard to be your friend, you know. But you were so shy." 
He nodded a little, glancing down at his food again.
It had been a long time since he's tasted anything... he almost forgot how good food was. Even if this was bland.
The rest of the meal went on in silence, complying with the Lan eating habits. 
As soon as they finished eating, however, 'Lan Zhan' stood and bowed to everyone.
"I apologize. I should get going. I have a test in the morning I need to study for." 
"Of course, I'm glad you could come, Wangji." Qiren nodded to him. 
"I should get going as well. I have a business meeting in the morning." 
"Of course, thank you for coming, Wen Ruohan."
'Lan Zhan's' lips tipped into a frown. But he bowed to everyone and headed out. He thought he was in the clear as he reached his car, but he felt eyes on him and glanced up. 
Ruohan was approaching him, a frown on his lips. 
"Have a good evening, sir." 'Lan Zhan' said politely before getting in his car and locking the doors.
He let out a long, slow breath, and with a light mist leaving him, Wei Ying suddenly sat beside him in the passenger seat.
Lan Zhan coughed a little and glanced at Wei Ying. "I didn't know you could do that."
"Neither did I." Wei Ying glanced out the window and saw Ruohan getting in his own car. 
"Lan Zhan... be careful driving home." 
"Mn."  He nodded and started his engine before heading off.
Wei Ying kept his eyes on the car following them, an uneasy feeling in his chest. "Lan Zhan,"
"Im sorry for taking over your body..." 
"It's alright. I never should have made you go in there with the way you were feeling. Are you feeling any better?"
"Mhm."
"Good. Let's go home." 
The car stopped following them. 
Thankfully, the next two days went by smoothly, Wei Ying stayed attached to Lan Zhan's
side, refusing to leave him. 
A few times, he got the same spine chilling feeling and he knew Ruohan was nearby. He was always careful, guiding Lan Zhan towards more crowded areas and away from the lingering threat.
However, the night before the memorial service was to be held, Wei Ying felt the chilling feeling once more while he and Lan Zhan were at home. 
He frowned and moved to slip through the wall briefly before he returned quickly. 
"Lan Zhan," he hurried to his side, trying to stay calm.
"Yes?"
"I want you to text your brother and tell him to call the cops. Tell him someone is trying to break into your apartment."  
"What?" 
"Please... just do it..  and get something to protect yourself. Ruohan is here." 
Lan Zhan frowned, but complied.
As soon as the message was sent, Lan Zhan heard his door rattle slightly and he quickly and quietly got up to find an object he could use to defend himself. 
When the door finally swung open, Lan Zhan had turned all of the lights off and was staying out of sight.
Wei Ying directed him where to move to avoid the intruder. 
"Oh come now, A-Zhan." Ruohan's voice was dripping with malice. "I know you're here. Come out, I just want to talk." 
Wei Ying knocked something over in the opposite direction and Ruohan lunged. 
Unfortunately, when Lan Zhan tried to use this as a chance to escape he knocked over some decor he had, catching the other's attention. 
Wei Ying's eyes widened as the man whirled around with such determination that he was on top of Lan Zhan in a heartbeat.
The glint of the knife in his hand caught Wei Ying's attention, and without thinking, he picked up the closest object, a small potted plant, and chucked it at him, hitting Ruohan right in the head. 
He whipped around to see who threw it, but that gave Lan Zhan the chance to throw a hard punch to his jaw, knocking him off of him.
The two tussled on the floor for several minutes, each time they switched and Wei Ying wasn't able to get another throw in. 
However, all movements stopped when a rather… muffled sound echoed in the room. Ruohan was leaning over Lan Zhan, panting hard from wrestling with him. He jerked his arm back and Wei Ying heard the unmistakably familiar sound of flesh ripping. 
"...Lan Zhan?" 
"That's what you get, you damned brat." Ruohan stood, kicking the poor man while he was down. 
Lan Zhan coughed up blood, rolling onto his side as his hands tried to put pressure on his wound. 
"Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan no!! No, no, no!" 
Ruohan scoffed. "I don't know how you figured out I did it, but this is the end for you." He readied the knife in his hand, preparing to strike again when the sound of sirens blared in the distance. Ruohan glanced over, his eyes widening before he scoffed. 
He glanced down at Lan Zhan, who was trying to crawl away and slammed his foot against him,
knocking him back to the ground. 
Lan Zhan collapsed with a pained grunt, and Wei Ying couldn't handle it anymore, he surged forward, his body colliding with Ruohans. 
There was a bit of resistance, but Wei Ying took control.
"Help is on the way, Lan Zhan." He said softly.
He felt sick, every ounce of energy he had went into making sure Ruohan didn't move. He could feel the anger, the hate, the greed, the darkness that was Ruohan's mind. He couldn't understand how anyone could live this way.
The sirens were outside now, and 'Ruohan' rose the bloodied knife into the air as if he was going to stab Lan Zhan. 
"Freeze!" 
"Drop your weapon!" 
'Ruohan' stood up straight and dropped the weapon away from Lan Zhan before he kicked it towards the cops.
As soon as the cops rushed forward, Wei Ying exited Ruohan's body. The man instantly began to struggle, but Wei Ying didn't care. He hurried to Lan Zhan's side, desperately trying to help put pressure on the wound, but his hands were going through him.
"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, it's going to be okay!" Wei Ying wasn't sure if he was comforting himself or the other, but he was trying. 
The paramedics rushed in shortly after, quickly taking Lan Zhan into their care. 
Wei Ying had to back away when he realized he was sapping energy from their equipment. 
He watched in a panicked state as Lan Zhan was moved onto a gurney and rushed from the apartment. 
For three days Wei Ying sat on the couch, waiting, feeling himself fading in and out. He didn't care. All he wanted was to know that Lan Zhan was safe.
When the door finally opened, Wei Ying looked over in a panic, finally standing from the couch. 
He watched as Xichen carefully helped Lan Zhan into the home. He stepped away from the couch as Lan Zhan was carefully lowered to the soft cushions.
"Wangji, you really should stay with me or uncle." 
"No, I am fine." He assured him, carefully adjusting himself to be more comfortable. "You should go home and rest." 
"..." He sighed, but nodded. "Call me if you need anything." 
"Of course."
Xichen squeezed his hand before leaving. 
Wei Ying stayed back, afraid to hurt him anymore. Not that he had much energy to begin with, but the fear was still there. 
"Won't even come sit with me?" Lan Zhan teased and Wei Ying whined. 
"I-- you're safe." Was all he could say.
"I am." He opened his arm and Wei Ying carefully took the spot, hugging him while being mindful of the wound.
Wei Ying did everything he could to help him the next few days, doting on him as much as a ghost could.
The pair was snuggled up on the couch when they saw the news.
"Suspect Wen Ruohan is currently being transported to Gusu maximum security prison following the attempted murder of Lan Wangji. Police took Ruohan into custody this past weekend after receiving a call about an alleged break-in." 
"When police arrived, Ruohan had already stabbed his victim once in the abdomen. Police apprehended him and an official investigation was opened." 
"Police found several artifacts in Ruohan's home linking him to the string of murders ten years ago.vA red ribbon covered in blood that was identified as belonging to 10 year old Wei Ying. Engraved acupuncture needles belonging to the late Wen Qing, a silken money pouch belonging to the late Luo Qingyang, a citrine necklace belonging to the late Qin Su..." 
The list went on.
Trophies he collected from each of his victims. Ruohan was expected to receive maximum punishment. 
Wei Ying slumped against Lan Zhan, a soft sigh leaving him. "I'm glad... glad he's finally gone." 
"As am I." 
Wei Ying nuzzled him lightly before he closed his eyes.
"Wei Ying?" 
"Mhm?" 
"I want you to promise me something." 
"Anything." 
"Stay with me. Stay here beside me until I die. And when I die, I want you to move on. I want you to let go so we can have a chance at reincarnation. So we can be together."
Wei Ying's eyes snapped open and he looked at him in shock. He saw the determined expression, could feel how serious he was. If he had a heartbeat, he was sure it would be fluttering.
"I promise. I promise, Lan Zhan. From now until the end of time, I am yours and only yours."
"Mn." He nodded, pleased with the response, and without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. There was a cold pressure against his lips, just like when they hugged. It was everything he had hoped for. 
"...Lan Zhan?" 
"Mn?"
"...if you can kiss me... what else do you think we can do?" 
Lan Zhan's ears burned a deep red and he coughed lightly, drawing a playful grin from his ghost companion.
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fiercynn · 9 months
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okay a few nights ago i got to SEE VIENNA TENG LIVE IN CONCERT, and i've finally emotionally recovered enough to write about it, because it was honestly my favorite live show i've ever been to in my life!!!
so if you don’t know vienna teng, she’s a chinese-american singer-songwriter, and caveat that i'm not good with music genres, but i'd say that her style is kind of indie pop with some folksy elements and amazing lyricism. i discovered her music around 2004, when i was in high school, and she’s been one of my favorite musicians ever since. if you want to try out some of her music, here is my favorite song from each of her studio albums: “drought” (waking hour), “harbor” (warm strangers), “city hall” (dreaming through the noise), “augustine" (inland territory), and “never look away” (aims). her songs have such a wide range of associations for me – to friendships, to past romantic relationships, to fandoms, to particular moments in my life – so she obviously means a lot to me.
vienna teng’s career is also important to me because of the way it has progressed: her last album was released ten years ago, and some time later she stopped being a full-time musician to work in climate change advocacy, which is also what i work in. she’s done some one-off shows occasionally since then, i think, but this is her first full tour in many years. she also decided to combine that tour with giving workshops on climate change in many of the cities where she’s been informing, though unfortunately not my city!
her music is also widely beloved in fandom, and is so famously used for fanvids that at cons you’ll sometimes have vid shows made up of vids entirely of her music, or have fans do projects like the aims vid album. a wonderful person (and vidder) named purplefringe who passed away two and a half years ago used to keep a massive spreadsheet of vids made to vienna teng songs, but i don’t know if anyone has recreated that since purplefringe died.
i'll reblog this later this week with recs for my favorite fanvids set to vienna teng songs, but for now i wanted to tell you all about the concert!
despite having been a fan of hers for eighteen years at this point (eep!), it was my first time seeing her in concert, and it was honestly incredible. she's got an amazing stage presence, both musically and otherwise, and is so talented – her set included her playing classical piano, live-arranging songs digitally in ways that i am too musically-ignorant to properly describe to you (but that you'll see evidence of in my last link), and playing guitar which she’s apparently only picked up recently. some of the highlights for me:
her opening number was “augustine" and i immediately started crying, despite not thinking of that song as being one that hits me that hard emotionally
her husband jacob corvidae and her three-and-a-half year old daughter arcadia were watching the show in a booth upstairs
she did not have a set list and instead did songs as she felt like them and/or by eliciting requests to be shouted out to her at various points
when she played "landsailor”, her husband came down to do the duet part with her, and she only gave him about a minute’s notice to hand off childcare lol. they sounded amazing together!
i had heard this before, but it felt very meaningful to hear in person: before playing “city hall”, she described how jeanette winterson’s written on the body partially inspired it because it made her think about gender and queerness in such different ways
she played some new songs! including two that she’s working on recording in studio right now: they are both called “we’ve got you” and she wrote them with the intention of mashing them up, which i think is super cool
and then she announced that she was working on a new album that could be out within a year!!!!
i cried intermittently throughout, but in the last twenty minutes, she talked about what climate work means to her immediately before doing “level up”, and from that point on i was just weeping for the rest of the show
she ended with a request, which was for her mashup of “ain’t no sunshine/lose yourself” which i had never heard and was INCREDIBLE to see performed live
anyway her 2023 tour is not yet over so if you live in any of the cities where she's not yet sold out i would HIGHLY recommend going! but even if not, the fact that she's releasing another album makes me think more tour are in the (relatively) near future for her!
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jicklet · 1 year
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Finished the Persona 5 Anime, and I ended up liking it a lot more than I thought I would!
I definitely wouldn't recommend it to someone as their primary P5 experience, but if you've played the game and are hungry for more, it’s worth checking out!
Most of the fun is in how they connect all these various plots together into a coherent narrative, linking the confidant progressions into what’s happening with the overall plot or character development.
My favorite example of this is in the episode with Yusuke's confidant where he makes his speech at the end about his friends keeping him on track. Ren clearly learns from that, and so later when he gets into a discussion with Akechi about the Phantom Thieves being dangerous, Ren is able to echo Yusuke when he says that as long as the Thieves stay true to their justice, they'll stay on track. It’s a nice way to keep everything moving forward.
Another nice thing is that two infamously problem scenes got (imho) massively improved: the Mona-Ryuji fight, and the Ryuji scene at the end of Shido’s palace. I’ll go into more detail on how after some other stuff under the cut.
Cons 😅
They also threw in some weird extra fanservice moments in the first half, along the lines of generic anime “Ah yes Ann’s ass is talking” moments. Thankfully they seem to drop that in the second... season? half? whatever it is. Basically midway through there’s a new intro and they stop pulling that shit.
Yeah so the animation quality is notttt good, they seem to have been working off Yusuke’s food budget and everything went into making the fight scenes look almost decent. If you watch video essays, this can almost be treated like that; if you have a project to work on it’s nice to have this on to mostly listen to and occasionally look up at. BUT they do some nice stuff with stills, that's how we get things like baby Yusuke and Makoto and Haru, and some extra time of them all actually having fun at Destinyland. ♥
Ren 🙋‍♂️
So our protagonist is both helped and hindered by the medium shift. He does get things to say and I enjoyed that! Overall though he definitely feels less main-character-y with so much else to focus on. He shines in one-on-one scenes, over time you can see him become more comfortable and confident over time, especially once Futaba joins and we get some more time with Sojiro. But in group scenes I honestly tend to forget he's there.
Shippy stuff 💗
You could easily headcanon Ren as ace or gay or just shy. They keep all his relationships platonic and he never really reacts to being flirted with any way except being uncomfortable.
Oh, though if you’re an Akechi or Joker/Akechi fan... yeah just go watch this, trust me.
Most of my Yutaba moments got skipped or cut short, alas but it’s understandable. The real win here was for Ryuann! They're always rushing over to check on each other, and oh man Erica seriously brought it for Ryuji-possibly-died scene. And, speaking of...
Improvements!! 🌟
Mona-Ryuji “fight”: I was dreading getting to this part as I always do, and then... I actually ended up kind of enjoying it?
Part of it was just due to the medium switch, you don't have all that excruciating in-game time as Joker where you're forced to do nothing while something is CLEARLY bugging Morgana. The tighter timeline and focus of the anime does a better job drawing a line directly from the dream/Morgana’s growing insecurities to Morgana lashing out at Ryuji, making it more obvious how much he's projecting.
The game also splits the focus between “The problem is Mona being insecure but also Ryuji’s ego” which muddies things. In the anime, you didn't get everyone crawling up Ryuji's ass about apologizing; Ann could tell Ryuji was worried because they've been friends and she knows him. Ryuji apologizing was his own choice, which put the focus less on “it’s Ryuji’s fault this isn’t getting solved” and more towards dealing with the actual problem of Mona feeling unappreciated. The lesson was more clearly “You weren’t wrong to feel that way, what was wrong was how you handled it,” which made it all hit stronger when everyone came together to be like “hey man we’re sorry we made you feel like that, you absolutely belong here.”
Shido’s palace: They cut the end off!! 🎉🎊🎉 It only showed Ann, Haru, and Futaba crying and yelling at Ryuji, which is fine and believable as them being emotional and worried, cut to Ren, Makoto, and Yusuke watching them, then it ends! Bam, fixed, we’re good.
Conclusion 🎉
So yeah, think of it as supplemental material. If you’re already a Persona 5 fan, I recommend checking it out! If you have a friend who hasn’t played the game... either have them play the game or show them a let’s play or something, don’t use this as an intro, we all know it could be better 😅
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so-very-small · 1 year
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🤡, 🛒, 💞 and 👀 for the fanfic asks?
🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?
(for context, reader is nonverbal and occasionally communicates by writing down notes. italics are said notes. the :/ here makes me laugh every time)
we need to talk.
You hold the notebook up so Otto can see, and he reads the words swiftly. He nods, before casting a swift glance to the still unconscious man.
“What happened there, though?”
i think he wanted 2 kidnap me :/
🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.
consciously I usually try to incorporate stuff relating to: break ups (platonic and romantic), blue and yellow imagery, feelings of helplessness and reclaiming control, reconciliation with the parts of you you don’t want to acknowledge, a lot of space/night time, and religious themes (in an ex religious person way)
unconsciously, i had a friend once tell me i tend to write about fakes/frauds often, people with double identities or playing a certain role, and people with massive secrets. which. i absolutely do shdhsjdhfjf
💞 Who's your comfort character?
atm its Otto 😌
👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!
one of my current fanfics is a fanfic where Sam and Aragorn talk at length about the loss of Bill the Pony :( my main original work project right now is a fantasy/sci-fi story about two friends turned enemies, that goes heavily into chronic illness and some pitfalls of being too ambitious with technology
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Hmmm~ let's see how about Celestia and Miu(seperate)having a Boyfriend who's the opposite ofvthem personality wise and people are just mystified at how they're dating and when asked the Boyfriend just says that Miu/Celestia is just so cute
OMG HI!! YOUR ONE OF MY FAVORITE TUMBKR BLOGS AND YOUR MY FIRST REQUEST!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!
Anyways, let's do this
A/N: Miu isn't my favorite but I tried :) consider this a late Christmas special
WARNINGS
Foul language
Gn reader
Please tell me if I need to add more warnings!!!!
MIU IRUMA
Considering your quiet, unassuming and has probably never cursed in your life, it's a massive shock you and Miu of all people got together.
You probably act somewhat like Celeste, except a little more teasing and a little less anger
When you get together, obviously people are absolutely stumped on how you guys together, even Shuichi
She probably is like
"I'm the fuckin'girl genius Miu Iruma! I can't get flustered!"
And your like
"Are you sure about that darling?"
Cue Miu being an absolute mess for you, sweet girl
Its a constant war of teasing and occasionally throwing insults back and forth, but you always manage to win
(slay)
(also I apologize if I didn't write Miu's character correctly, I have never played any of the games, I jsut consume TikTok and Tumblr
When asked what you see in her, you often say something along the lines of
"Oh Miu? Yes that is indeed my lover. What do I see in her? Well despite me falling for her personality, I believe part of it was her appearance, I absolutely adore her in every way, shape or form, so naturally, I also love her face, absolutely precious."
CELESTIA LUDENBURG
Again, nobody really knows how you two got together, your extremely loud all off the time, constantly projecting your voice, a terrible liar, and an open book for anything, meanwhile Celeste is the exact opposite.
She often gets Hifumi to do whatever you want him to do, often ending up with him having to prank people for you and you laughing your ass off.
Is amused by your playful nature, but dosent take very kindly to pranks on her, it will end up with you getting lectured and hifumi getting yelled at.
"Dear, I love you from the bottom of my heart, but WHY. WOULD YOU PRANK ME. YOU DUMPED WATER ON ME! What do you mean it was meant for Makoto? Well it dosent excuse you at all, but your off the hook. For now. Go apologize to Naegi this instant, before I do something I will regret."
You often end up teasing Celeste a ton! Makoto is still wondering why you insist on making him a target of your pranks, although you seem very panicked about almost dropping water on Celeste again.
Back to the teasing part, you often cup her face and insist she's so cute she could get away with anything she wanted!
"Ah dear.. I may be cute, but you are surely much much cuter than me! Here allow me to cup your face as well."
Ends up with you squirming away and insisting she take off her finger ring before she does that or on rare occasion, you manage to fluster her.
When soembody questions you about why you fell for her, you often respond with
"Oh hey. You need something? Oh you wanna talk about Celeste? Hell yeah! I've been waiting for an excuse to talk about her! She's so cute it's deadly! I live for her cute little face, especially her pout! I love every inch of her being! Of course I love her personality the most, but her face is such a cute bonus!!"
HOLY CRAP. I MANAGED TO SPEEDRUN THAT REQUEST.
I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!
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the-heat-is-0n · 1 year
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INTRO BUT UPDATED IN 2024 YIPPEE!!
I'm Beevil, I'm 20 years old, and like many others I kind of migrated here during the great Elon-pocalypse of 2022. I've had this blog since like, idk, 2016? 2017? during the peak of my Hamilton era, forgot about Tumblr, ditched it, came back, and now I use it as a place to talk about my fics and writing projects mostly :) I also very occasionally post art, but I got burnt out on it and I'm too busy to do a whole lot of drawing anyway.
If you're coming here from my ao3, hi welcome yes I wrote INAH and many other c! and q! tntduo fics, and yes you can scream at me just like I say you can in the end notes of each fic smile
I still don't use this site often enough to know how to tag all that well, but here are some that I'll try and use to separate my different posts!!
#beevil's fics - Fic updates and new uploads
#AUs & hc infodumps - Pretty self-explanatory (will include massive text walls)
#autism explosions - Hyperfixation ramblings, also some thoughts about being autistic occasionally
#random thoughts - Anything else that doesn't fall under these categories
Link to my ao3 if you didn't know about it already:
Disclaimer:
I don't support dream team or cc!wilbur, if you think that this is a safe space for DT or cc!wilbur defenders go away!!
Any written iterations of Wilbur are essentially OC-ified, especially with my unique AUs. Basically you see the name, but it isn't about the guy himself.
This blog is no safe space for bigotry - homophobia, transphobia, racism, zionism, etc.
If you're part of any corners of the internet that breaks anybody's boundaries, go away! You suck and are awful and *massive thumbs down emoji*!!!!! Only cool and respectful people here!!!!!
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newtafterdark · 2 years
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Oooo ok! That's interesting!
Would you be willing to talk about the general polycule if you haven't already? (It doesn't matter what about I just wanna learn about them)
Sure! I haven't talked much about them on here in general, I think. Yeah, there was the occasional post, but I'll be real with you. Tumblr gets to me sometimes, so I keep a bunch of things to myself, even if I know that there are folks out there who like my writing & ideas in general.
But here ya go - here are some general things about the whole 'cule~
For the longest time they all stayed together at base, keeping to themselves in social interactions & sharing one storage room that they turned into a cramped personal space. That was both because there were no other options & because all of them have a bit of natural paranoia. A small room simply feels safer to sleep in.
Beauty eventually brought up the idea of fixing up an old abandoned building nearby that was close to the farm that he was slowly getting started with Barney & other resistance members. All of the fellas were ecstatic over that idea, as most of them had never had their own space, only knowing the Black Mesa dorms!
In general, I would describe that place as a hodgepodge of color, trinkets and plants. And the occasional welding project that Mind works on in his free time. Lost of yellows and browns in the oooold 70s kitchen for sure too!
Beauty is the one who keeps track of everyone's allergies… and also suffers a little because especially Barmey will still eat anything you hand him. Cue Beauty yeeting himself over the kitchen table like you would if you saw your dog chewing on something. Very much a "WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR MOUTH???" moment that keeps happening.
They are all pretty multicultural & that is the cause for a lot of sweet moments… but also the occasional misunderstanding. Especially when it comes to little social things, but also food. Mind has eaten a tamale with the husk before. (shoutout to my buddy Ethan for coming up with that. That comic lives in my brain rent-free!)
Gorgeous & Beauty are both Latino, while the other boys have been raised white as can be. Mind may have some indigenous american genes from his mother's side that you can't really see on him, but Eddie & Barmey are 100% White Boys. Also!! They all adopted the Lamarr from Gorgeous' universe as their pet. Her name is Lovey (full-name "Lovey-Dovey") and she is a MASSIVE pink headcrab with a hint of fur on her crab-like claws like a yeti crab. Thankfully she is technically a queen/gonarch, so she does not feel the need to attach herself to people's faces. That being said, she knocks Beauty on his ass occasionally & intentionally keeps every polycule member without superpowers from getting up when she curles up on their lap. >:) She's a bit smarter than your usual headcrab.
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letarasstuff · 3 years
Text
Ranting
(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)
Summary: In the middle of midterms, Spencer's daughter has enough and for the first time in her life, she rants to the team
Warnings: one swear word, school, school stress, mental breakdown, shitty friends, a bit of angst (but there is fluff to balance that out), weird grammatical sentences that are according to google correct
Wordcount: 2.3k
✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________ As a teenager, Spencer was pretty closed off. But this had several reasons, like being a child (or moreover a teen prodigy) at college and getting his first Ph.D, or that he hadn’t had a safety net of people he could have gone to. So as he became a father himself, he tried everything possible to assure his own daughter that her feelings and thoughts are always welcome and valid.
Unfortunately (Y/N) herself has developed the same habit starting high school and ever since Spencer can’t do anything to get her to open up to him. It’s not like they don’t have a good relationship, they have one of the strongest father-daughter bonds the BAU has ever witnessed. The girl simply has other ways to cope with her feelings and how to act them out in the safety of her own four walls. Her father learned to accept it, knowing that he can’t and won’t force her to talk to him.
So what follows now not only shocked Spencer. But also his work family.
It’s the time every teen in high school dreads: Midterms.
A word a teacher can mutter and a shiver goes through the rows of students in the classroom. Or at least it feels like it to (Y/N). She takes her school work very seriously. In her mind every single grade determines her future.
The rational part in her knows that the grades in her sophomore year doesn’t matter. That they are even long forgotten when she graduates. There is just so much pressure on her. But it isn’t coming from her father.
Spencer is pretty laid-back regarding school. He knows his daughter is trying her best and that it’s just the tenth grade and not the end of the world. School is not everything life has to offer, especially he has to know it as a scholar and profiler flying through the country in a jet back and forth.
It’s (Y/N)’s classmates, who pressure her to get good grades.
“We depend on you and your notes”, Tyler exclaims as he jogs next to her through the busy hallway. “Ty, I know. But I don’t have the time to get them done for all of you to understand by tomorrow. They are still a mess that only I know to see through. I still have to finish my history project and I go to my Dad’s work this afternoon, which means I won’t get much done and I still have to do the homework I got today before sorting my notes for the test in two days.”
At her locker, the boy still doesn’t let go of the subject. “Do you want to say that our grades don’t matter as much as yours? Because this would be a true selfish statement.” Maybe it is the lack of sleep, because she pulled three all-nighters in two weeks, or the fact that she is slowly getting fed up being treated like an unpaid private teacher, but (Y/N) can’t stop her sassy answer. “Tyler, you wouldn't even know how to tell apart your ass from your head if it weren’t for me and my help in biology. You wouldn’t even know how to spell selfish if I didn’t let you copy my answers in spelling tests in elementary school.”
Done with the day and her friend’s shit, she slams the door of her locker shut and leaves a flabbergasted boy behind. Half an hour later the teenager enters the bullpen with her visitor badge clipped to the pocket of her sweater.
On the way there she was fuming. The audacity of her friends. It’s not only Tyler, who tried to get her notes of a unit, she was the only one listening, even though the teacher said loud and clear that this will be important for midterms. A few other friends out of the group she usually hangs out with texted her the same question of when her notes will be given to them. Understandably, (Y/N) comes into the office in the worst mood anyone from the team ever saw, including her own father.
“Hey Sweetheart”, he tries to greet her with a hug. Even though both of them are not big on touch, they are extra affectionate with people they are close to.
To everybody’s surprise, the girl takes a step back, effectively avoiding his open arms. “Hey”, she grumbles out before taking a seat in the chair already waiting for her. Nobody is allowed to sit in this one, except for her. Not even Derek has ever put his butt on this one, knowing the sacredness of it.
Without sparing anyone another glance, (Y/N) gets the needed stuff for that history project out and continues working on it. The team resorts to throwing a questiongly look to Spencer, who shrugs his shoulders with a look of despair. So everyone resumes their work without even daring to say a word.
The general silence is occasionally broken by an unnerved sigh leaving the teenager’s lips. “Is the conference room occupied?” She asks, her voice clearly showing how annoyed she is. Her father shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. Do you need help with your school work?” This is obviously the wrong thing to say. “Do I look like a baby? I don’t need anyone to help with that, I have been going to school for ten years now, I think I can handle this project as perfectly fine as I did since day one. It’s just your keyboard typing that will be the reason for my first grey hairs if I don’t get out of here soon.”
Quickly (Y/N) gathers her stuff and storms off into the conference room. Immediately the team crowds her father’s desk. “What happened?” “Who hurt her?” “Go, talk to her!”
“Guys, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m at the same loss as all of you. The only thing I know is that (Y/N) is under pressure, because it’s midterms. But judging by the way she reacted, I don’t want to go near her. It’s safer to try to defuse a bomb than talk to her in that mood. Last time I saw something similar, her favorite show was declared finished, got a revival and then didn’t get one and nobody mentioned it again. She was so mad, I think it took three years of her life.” A silence of uncertainty spreads through the room.
“What about we give her some room until she calms down?” JJ suggests, being unsure herself how to deal with a teenage girl. But the rest agrees and goes back to filling out their paperwork.
This continues for about 20 minutes, till a loud bang and a frustrated scream is heard followed by “DON’T THEY WANT TO GET IT OR ARE THEY JUST STUPID?!” Alerted by that, seven people (yes, even Dave and Aaron leave their offices, while Penelope was already in the bullpen) storm into the round table room only to see a more than outraged (Y/N).
“Sweetheart”, Spencer speaks to her in the gentlest voice they ever heard from him and slowly moves towards his daughter, “What’s going on?”
Her response is delayed by several deep breaths she has to take in order to be able to talk without seething. “ALL OF MY SO CALLED FRIENDS ARE ASKING ME FOR MY NOTES, like do I look like a personal tutor? And when I tell them that I got a life, a life outside of school and grades, because otherwise I go completely bananas, just like all of you say, they get mad. Now they act like I’m the most selfish person in the whole world. I’m so done, can’t they understand that they are old enough to take care of their own stuff? I’m not responsible for them, their grades or anything regarding their lives. Otherwise I would be the mother of at least four toddlers and one baby and at the age of sixteen I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. I know friends are there for eachother, and I really don’t mind helping them from time to time. But what they are doing is terror. Terror.
“Oh and don’t get me started on their tormention if I get something lower than an A-. Then they suddenly transform into geniuses, like they suddenly know everything possible. Of course, I’m the dumb one. I should have studied more.
“I am under an insane amount of pressure, because I know they rely on me, but enough is enough. I tell them that if anyone asks me for anything school related again and they act like I owe them an answer, I’ll cut off all ties to all of them. What am I, a roboter just there for their needs, without some of my own?”
After her long rant, (Y/N) takes a couple more breaths. It’s pretty much the only sound right now, because the team is stunned. None of them heard her talking, no ranting, like that. Not even her Spencer has seen her like that.
Realizing what she just said, the teenager fidgets nervously with her hands. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, blow up like that. I, I really don’t know where this came from.” Nervously she scratches the back of her head. It really wasn’t her intention to let it out like that. Her plan was just to come home tonight and deal in the confinement of her own four walls with all of her feelings. It’s easier to be honest to yourself when you are alone than having an audience watching you losing it.
Suddenly (Y/N) finds herself engulfed in a massive bear hug. “Oh, my sweet sweet summerchild. You needed to rant to us and I’m so happy you did. Even though your uhm, friends, sound like big douchebags, we can help you sort something out”, Penelope tells her while keeping her arms around the teen.
“Just like lil mama said, we are here for you, Baby Reid. Don’t ever be afraid to tell us something, may it even be as small as you having stubbed your toe.” Morgan ruffles her hair and gives her a reassuring smile.
Just like them everybody shows her their support, be it encouraging words or affectionately gestures. Rossi invites her to a calm and quiet dinner at his mansion, cooking class included. Hotch assures her that she will get through this rough patch, with or without these fake people. JJ suggests (Y/N) comes over to her home and she can participate in a family game night at their home.
When it’s Emily’s turn, she makes sure to get her message loud and clear by looking the teen in the eyes (not as deep as it sounds, because some people make an intense stare really uncomfortable): “If those kids give you a hard time again, tell me. I’ll pay them a visit in classic protective godmother fashion, because nobody traits MY godchild like this. Just give me their names and I’ll handle the rest.” Obviously she doesn’t say this aloud in front of everyone, else Hotch will have her head, knowing she goes through with her threats. Instead she whispers it into the teen’s ear. Still, it makes (Y/N) smile, having such a strong support net.
Sensing the family’s need for time of their own to talk about the whole situation, the team leaves the room. Spencer gestures to her to take a seat after moving two chairs opposite each other. He wants her not to feel trapped.
“Do you still want to talk about it? It doesn’t have to be now, we can do it tonight, tomorrow, in a week or in a month. Just, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s difficult to be a teenager, especially in times like these. But it won’t do you any good keeping all of this for yourself. Today you took it out through anger. How will it look next time?
I don’t want to pressure you into talking. We don’t need to. We can find other coping mechanisms. We can try and reduce your stress. Anything. But we both know that this is not the right way.” While speaking, he takes his daughter’s hand, making her look up to him.
(Y/N) nods. Her eyes fill with tears. “I just can’t keep going like this.” She whispers, feeling all the stress, pressure and the intensity of the last few weeks crashing down on her. Quickly Spencer gathers her in his arms, letting her cry in his embrace.
After calming down, she looks up to her father with bloodshot eyes. “We can talk tonight. But I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything”, he assures her, stroking a hand along her back. “I, uhm, I need a new phone. I may or may not have thrown mine against the wall after getting a text from Tyler.”
Spencer looks at the crooked cell laying on the floor, the screen cracked. “I think we can get that sorted”, he tells her with a smile and gives her a kiss on the forehead.
The two of them leave the office earlier, having many things to talk about and many problems to solve. But with the help of her family (Y/N) gets through this, a time where people unfortunately only like her for her smarts and not being herself.
Taglist:
All works:
@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki
Criminal Minds:
@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner
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bakubub · 3 years
Text
In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)
Ngl quite proud of this one!!
Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?
Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D
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All due credits go to @aikk00​ for this AMAZING fanart!!!!
I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.
I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.
"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.
"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...
"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.
"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.
"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.
"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.
Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...
"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.
I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."
He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.
"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.
“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.
I simply roll my eyes.
No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.
But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.
At least, that's what I keep telling myself.
Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.
"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.
"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"
I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.
"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.
"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.
I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.
"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.
"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"
"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.
I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?
I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."
I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.
He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.
"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.
Well, I guess that will never happen.
"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.
He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.
I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.
Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...
I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.
It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.
Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.
To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.
"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.
He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.
Must hurt like a bitch.
Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.
"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.
"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.
"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"
My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"
He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"
I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.
Fuck this shit.
"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.
"...I just said I can't."
---
"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.
"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.
Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.
"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.
"It burns, it burns-”
“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.
I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.
"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.
"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.
"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.
Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."
It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.
He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.
Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.
"That's what he said," is his reply.
I smack his head in response.
Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3
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wizkiddx · 3 years
Note
Congratulations on 500 followers!! Could you do nr 2 with Tom please <3
thankyou <33 im very in my feels abt friends to lover atm, so ik this is a completely unoriginal concept but here we are
warning: nothing much- maybe homesickness? (+ the fact tom has poor choice in popcorn )
^^^ sorry I couldn't not put this on here and I will reuse it lots n lots
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“Right I got two options annnnddddd there is only one correct answer.” Tom hummed up at you, pulling his tired gaze away from the phone screen and up towards the kitchen where you were standing triumphantly - having just raided his cupboards. From behind your back you whipped out a bag of popcorn in each hand.
“Sweet…. or salty?” Sighing with a small chuckle Tom shook his head at your playfulness. He didn’t know how you did it but you always always made his smile.
“I’m not a psychopath…” You huffed in relief, already turning around to throw the salty back in the cupboard where it belonged. “So salty of course.”
You were trapped in a house with an absolute psychopath.
You scowled at him, for having such poor taste, expecting some sort of argument to start. That wasn’t the case though, instead he just stared at you expectantly.
He must really really be unhappy.
You’d sensed it on set that morning - it wasn’t hard to miss. Not when it was your best friend, who for the past two months you’d been spending at least 6 hours a day with whilst shooting. Even when you were supposed to have a day off, when Tom had some solo shots or vice versa, you’d still come to keep the other company. It didn’t make sense but you both just sort of liked it that way.
This wasn’t your first rodeo working together either. Your first joint project had been almost four years ago, when both of you were barely adults, still figuring everything out. Ever since it had been bumping into each other every so often, always with an easy and effortless relationship.
Your current director had noted your chemistry at an awards show (the man never switched off) and decided in that moment he HAD to cast you together for a project. And a year later, here you both were, shooting in Australia for what was set to be a record breaking new release.
And it had been going great - better than great even. But as soon as Tom had shown up to makeup this morning, you’d known something was up. It was fair to assume it was something from home, maybe even just a bit of homesickness, or perhaps something more severe. Either way, the situation was probably exacerbated by the fact he didn’t have his brother or bestfriend or manager or normal syltist with him right now. Tom was pretty renowned within the industry for always having a massive entourage - which was normally made up with his family and friends. This time though he was going it solo.
Today had been long and you’d had to do press at stupid oclock in the morning last night for your current release - which meant your plan had always been to leave promptly and collapse into bed as soon as physically possible.
But Tom needed your company. So you hadn’t. Instead, you’d somewhat subtly invited yourself to his rented house for a movie night - blaming it on your director wanting you both to study the relationship dynamics in ‘out of sight’ (a J Lo and Clooney romance movie).
“You think you know a person and then they loose all your respect… just like that.” You sigh jokingly, gesturing to the bag of ‘foul’ popcorn your costar seemed to like.
“Well we’ve come to a crossroads.”
“It’s been nice knowing you but this…” you scoffed and dramatically rolled your eyes “… I see no way out.”
“Isn’t it better if we have a bag each? Then I might manage to actually get some before you scoff them all.”
You yelped in protest, though really you were just grateful he was still up for a bit of a laugh. He had been much less jokey the whole day, though was seeming to warm up a bit.
Once you had poured the two bags of popcorn into two separate bowels and prepared the film on TV; you plopped yourself onto Tom’s sofa, so your back was against the corner and your feet were over his lap (it wasn’t weird, just normal for the two of you). Instinctively, Tom lightly grabbed your ankles, repositioning you on his thigh slightly before leaning across the pull the blanket over the both of you. Whilst he smoothed out the crinkles in the fluffy navy fabric you took the opportunity to poke your toe into his side - garnering his attention.
“I take it you don’t wanna talk about it?” After he froze, Tom then nodded jerkily. “But if you change your mind, you know I’m here right?” His demeanour changed at your second statement as his body literally sagged into the cushions, with a grateful if small smile.
He respond by mouthing an ‘I know’ and that was enough for you. Shuffling down the side a bit you pressed play, settling in for the evening. Tom still had a hand resting on your ankles, occasionally rubbing his thumb up and down the bony bit.
Honestly you didn’t really see what your director was going on about when he raved about their on screen chemistry and it seemed that neither did Tom. It wasn’t a scathing commentary that gave it away, instead it was his silence. Which you quickly realised was the he had drifted off, his head lolling a little so he was facing you, palms now completely lax on your legs. It was whilst you were just taking in the sight before you, that a buzzing cut through the otherwise soft noise from the TV - which you had turned down for Tom’s sake.
It wasn’t your phone but you instinctively still reached for it from the coffee table and seeing that the name just read “Harry H” you thought it’d be fine to answer.
“Harry?” You whispered into the receiver, slightly cupping your hand round your mouth just to make sure you weren’t too loud for Tom.
“Hello?”
“Harry it’s me”
“Who?” You’d met Harry countless times, though given the fact Tom had been alone all shoot - you shouldn’t of expected the kid to be able to recognise your voice.
“Oh sorry Y/n um Y/n L/n”
“Oh no my fault sorry Y/n. How are you?” The conversation was jilted, you could practically feel the awkward energy radiating all the way from the otherside of the world.
“I’m alright thanks, how about you.”
“Yeh not bad I uhm… I - is my brother there?” Oooh. How to answer that question.
“Um sort of, we er… we were having a movie night and he’s fallen asleep. It’s why I’m whispering like a weirdo.” Harry laughed at that and you continued. “Is everything okay? You need me to wake him?”
“No no, mum just said he was having a rough time so was going to cheer him up with my exquisite sense of humour but if you’ve bored him to death then no need.”
“What can I say I’m just talented. Anyway I should be heading back to mine anyway so um I’ll let you go?”
“Oh yeh no worries, and uhm thanks-um thanks for keeping an eye on him.”
“Someone has to” You chuckled softly back, before bidding a final farewell to Harry.
Having hung up the phone, you leaned over to gently place it back on the coffee table but making a mental note to put it on charge before you left. Your next job was to manoeuvre your legs away from him without disturbing him but before you could even start planning the movement, you noticed his weary eyes blinked over at you. Freezing, your mouth made a little ‘o’ shape as you winced at yourself for disrupting his peace - today really wasn’t the day for that. There was a silence as Tom swallowed thickly, attempting to shake off the heavy lull of rest before he spoke. “Will you stay with me… please.”
Undoubtedly, your body didn’t play it as cool as you wanted it to. Thinking you’d heard him wrong, your chin protruded forward and his eyes widened. “ Sorry not like-not like that just um-just on the sofa… theres-theres spare blankets and I can-“
“-course T, no worries…Oh and um your brother just phoned if you-“
“I know.” He spoke softly and with a nod, but didn’t move at all, apparently no interest in calling his brother back.
With a stammered nod, you stood up, finally removing your legs from his touch in order to nip to the loo. You splashed your face with water, ate some toothpaste ( better than not brushing your teeth at all) before going to collect Tom’s quilt off his bed. By the time you re-entered the living room, Tom hadn’t appeared to have moved at all. The hood of his purple jumped was still up, the blanket still only half covering him, the excess lying cold were you had been sitting. He laughed lightly at you trying to wrangle with the king size duvet and get it in without tripping over yourself or knocking anything over.
“You sure you don’t mind? I’m just being stupid and-“
“Honestly I’m too tired to walk back to mine so this is perfect.”
“You live across the road.”
“Thats like 50 steps too far.” You deadpanned back, as he raised his eyebrows and locked you direct eye contact - which you very stubbornly returned.
The both of you sat like that for a minute, Tom eventually gave up with a sigh as he motioned for you to lie back.
There wasn’t an issue at all with space. A listers rental homes were never lacking in space - the grey sofa was a U shape, with ample space for the both of you to lie down. Each of you took a respective corner, your legs meeting in the middle and gently brushing against each others.
“Thanks for babysitting me today by the way.”
“I wasn-“ You were about to deny it, except one look and Tom saw straight through you.
“Thankyou Y/n/n” Seeing there was no way out of receiving his thanks, you instead opted to just shut him up. Nudging his leg with yours and leaving it touching you murmured you last words of the evening - eyes already closed.
“Fuck off Holland, ‘m tryna sleep.”
~~~~ let me know if you have any feedback or anything (but pls not too mean this isn't proof read so blame that) <33 ~~~~~~
tagging : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala
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inter-somniac · 3 years
Text
One of Us
Platonic!Technoblade x Fem!Reader
Inspired by @unfoundhoney and their post little blade ! This time reader is around the same age as/a little older than Techno. (And maybe a little garbage at pvp.)
You were known for your building. Could you die to a zombie because you just were bad at aiming and timing? Yes. Could you build the most gorgeous and complex locations in Minecraft when given time? Yes.
You were often posting your builds on an alt twitter account, linked to your main through your bio. You got attention here and there, but you weren’t that well known for your builds.
You did stream on twitch for around 1k viewers as your average. You didn’t really mind. You were just trying to make cool things and help explain how to do it if people wanted to replicate it.
Something was up when your view count suddenly spiked from about 1k to around 20k. You were lowkey in a panic because they just all appeared at once.
“Chat, what the heck is going on? Where did all of these people come from? Hi, new people. Nice to meet you? Where did you all come from?”
There was an overwhelming response of “Technoblade” in the chat. Which didn’t make that much sense because Techno streamed on YouTube.
It made more sense when your phone pinged with a dm notification from twitter under your builds profile. Mr. Blade himself had sent you a message asking to get in contact with you about a project.
After a quick reply saying you would either answer any inquiries he had in dms after your stream, or you could arrange a discord call. A discord tag popped into your messages not even a minute after you told him that.
“Chat, chat, we’re going to have a...client? A client join us on discord. One sec.”
Cue Techno nearly blasting your eardrums out and almost making you fall out of your chair. Chat was also screeching about how loud he was. After managing to regain your senses from the assault on your ears, you turned him down so that the ear suffering would end.
“Hello, Mr. Blade, we are live on twitch, so if you are worried about giving spoilers for a future project, be aware.”
He did not care. This man just wanted hep with building. He was a fighter. Yeah, he could build but he could also get a skilled builder to help him. He wanted someone with a unique style. So when he stumbled across you, perfect.
You didn’t know he wanted a bunker on the Dream SMP. Joining them was intimidating. Especially having to talk to Dream. He was a nice guy but you felt so small asking to join with Techno’s backing. He wasn’t even mean to you, but he was the authority over you.
The deal was, you got a spot on the SMP, and Techno’s protection, so long as you built what he wanted. He wanted a massive underground bunker? Your job. Farm expansion? Also your job. Not that you minded.
After like two streams of you and Techno together, everyone was hooked. Like, they did not shut up in either of your chats ever when you were playing together. Lots of “BEST DUO POG” and “i want to be friends like them”
Dream was doing lore and threatened you. Bad idea. Dream was threatened and Techno started tracking him. You were pretty much the only thing that seemed to make Techno react on the server. Aside from the need for anarchy.
irl you and Techno had also become friends. He was teaching you how to play pvp better and you were helping him build more efficiently. Very mutually beneficial.
Once Techno finally did a full face reveal (and not just a throwaway clip or two in an old video) there was a big push for the two of you to meet up so everyone could see you two together irl.
You may have been roughly the same age but that man towered over you. He’s like 6’3 and found it amusing that you occasionally had to tug on his sleeve to get his attention.
Also, attempting to prank you at some point and “Technoblade never dies!” followed quickly by “Technoblade is going to die if he dumps that bucket of water on me. Because I will be personally escorting him to the depths of hell.”
Yeah, he didn’t try that again. He was smart enough to know you would be sticking to your word. You may have been smaller than him but you still could scare even Techno.
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