#I cropped out half the picture because backgrounds are hard
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Screenshot paint over
#I cropped out half the picture because backgrounds are hard#one day I will learn how to draw backgrounds and then it’ll be over for you#acnh#acnh art#ac genji
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i’m thinking about your max run club au again 😵💫 does daniel realize… the effect… max’s voice has on him? when do daniel and max meet in real life (if ever)?
😫 😫 i am always thinking about max run club ... but im sooo glad you're there with me! 🏃
in my mind they don't meet until after he and scotty break up. Daniel in a moderate sized LA apartment trying to figure out what to do with a bum knee and no race seat, when he goes to one of martijn's shows, and look who is there also :)
below the cut is the third part 😏 (part i, ii)
The first time he sees him, Daniel almost doesn’t notice.
He’s face-down on the sofa with his phone held loosely in his hand. He should probably be in bed, has an appointment with his physio in the morning, lunch with Blake after that. But Scotty’s in Canada for training camp, has been for the past two weeks, and Daniel hasn’t been sleeping well.
He had offered to come with him, with Scott. Made a joke about getting on the slopes too, “My knee’s been better, yeah? Reckon I could probably take you down for a run or two.” His knee still isn’t great but like, he could probably hang out in the hot tub, work on maybe, like a nice tan.
But Scotty had laughed, told him not to waste his time, “You don’t even like the snow, Ric. I’ll see you in a month, yeah?”
Daniel thinks maybe he’s allowed to feel like this, lonely and sad, scrolling through Instagram.
It’s worse then, when he sees the picture of Scotty. He’s shirtless and smiling, how Daniel likes him the best. There’s a sunburn on his nose, red and angry, and Daniel knows it must be painful. Can imagine almost how he must be complaining about it, refusing to put on aloe because he doesn’t like the sticky after-feel.
It gets him a little hot, his hips pressing against the sofa almost unconsciously. He could probably like, get himself off. Come into his own hand and send him a picture, saying some shit like, thought of u ;).
But also, like. Daniel hasn’t heard from him in a few days, thinks maybe he’s not going to be the one to reach out this time.
He’s deep in his twitter feed, focus only half on the screen when he hears the voice.
He rewinds it and presses the phone to his ear, the volume turned loud as he listens, and there it is. Just a handful of lines in that sharp accent that Daniel recognises immediately with an odd sense of excitement.
He loops it over to hear it again, and Daniel feels it. The sudden burst of energy, conditioned almost by sound alone. He wants to put on his shoes and run, Max’s voice hoarse in his ears coaxing him to be faster, to be better. To make it good, make it last. And Daniel would, for him. For Max.
He grinds his dick into the sofa, reckons it would be half-hard if he reached down to touch it.
Daniel doesn’t do it, obviously. It would be too much, he knows. Getting hot and bothered by the sound of a voice, or like, not even that. Because it’s GP’s voice he can hear now, deep and British, and decidedly not Max’s. But even like this, Daniel feels out of control.
He loops it again before he even thinks about it.
Daniel doesn’t realise until he’s on his third listen that GP is talking about Max, “- and he can be himself with me, which I think is really important when you work together the way that Max and I do.”
There’s a shuffle in the background, and Daniel almost misses it, rewinds the video just a few seconds to watch as a guy pops in from the side to hug GP.
Daniel doesn’t have to think about it, knows already that it’s Max on the screen.
He can only see his backside but he’s already so fucking hot. The wide line of his shoulders, trim waist obvious from the cropped running top he’s wearing. His shorts are almost indecent too, sit barely below his ass to show off strong thighs.
Looking at him like this, Daniel cannot fucking breathe.
Belatedly he noticed the link on the screen, a tag to their socials. It takes him to a YouTube page, Red Bull Running, and Daniel almost doesn’t – feels as the sour taste builds in his mouth.
It’s, like, objectively okay what he’s doing. He’s just a fan, that’s it. And like, Red Bull has probably hundreds of athletes, it’s barely even a connection.
Daniel doesn’t find it until he’s almost given up, hidden away at the bottom of the screen on a playlist called Max V. His cheeks feel flushed, his eyes heavy with maybe not sleep but something else, the illicit feeling making his fingers tingle.
He scrolls through it with his knee pulled to his chest, flicks through videos of Max on the treadmill, going over data with GP, crossing the line at the London marathon. He’s just as pretty as Daniel thought, wide smile and kind eyes as he laughs at his own silly joke.
He’s almost at the bottom, an absent yawn escaping his lips when he finds it. Yoga for Runners.
Foolishly, he clicks it, watches with a dry mouth as Max introduces himself. He sits squarely on the mat in a sunlit room. He isn’t wearing a shirt, back so straight it makes his pectorals look obscene. There’s a low-fi beat in the background, not too loud to drown out Max’s soft instructions guiding the viewer through a series of poses.
Daniel’s thumb hovers over the home button, ready to close out, to go to bed. And then Max bends over, ass to the camera in his tiny running shorts. It goes on forever. Max speaking softly, demonstrating with his hands the muscles he stretches, how to increase the pressure, where the strain should not be.
Max counts himself down, “You got, it. Four. Breathe deep for me, please,” lowers his knees and folds his chest almost to the floor, keeps his hips up high. “Here, you will feel the release of your rib cage. Obviously, like this it will give you a great stretch in the back also. Yes, just like this. You are of course doing so good.”
Daniel bites into the meat of his palm, pants into his own sweaty hand. He balances his phone against a pillow and slides his hand down to his dick.
He digs out the bottle of lube that hasn’t been used in months, pours it into his hand, onto his dick. Pretends the slick sound of his hand is something else. It’s easy to do like this, Max’s voice steady in his ear, body moving with impressive control on screen.
“Sink in a little deeper for me, we are so close,” Max says, voice soft, hoarse. “Breathe into the sensation. It should of course feel good when we do this.”
Daniel should feel embarrassed, maybe, but he comes just as Max is winding down, spread out on his back, breathing heavy. “Max,” he sobs, breathless.
The video ends, replaced by a moment of silence. And then in an all too familiar voice, “Hello, everyone,” that makes Daniel’s stomach drop.
#i reread part two recently and have been thinking about writing some more. so thank you for this!#max run club au#now with even less running!#maxiel#maxiel fic#max/daniel#my fic#my writing#fic#asks
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Moneymakers, pt.xxxviii // All Saints Are Sinners
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A note is played as a sensor detects that the front door has been pushed open. Low tiks, faint against the loudspeaker muzak, as the soles of his shoes dislodge from sticky stains on the white tiled floor. The ambient hum of fluorescent lights, of the air conditioning, of the coolers scattered all around. Gas stations all have that hum.
He makes for the drink aisle with a laziness to his step, loose straps from his backpack tapping at his chest and arms, eyes unenthusiastically scanning through foggy glass doors. Most of the options strike him as entirely unappealing, while some – chocolate milk, protein shakes, yoghurt – make him nauseous to even consider.
Renee hasn’t been high for a full day. He noticed it on waking up, and it’s only getting worse. That lethargy, the grey filter that slides down across his vision. Drowsiness that expresses itself clearly in the way he moves, as if his body will only operate in slow-motion. Boredom exacerbated, but juxtaposed with revolt at the mere thought of actually doing something about it. The hollowness of all the things which normally feel so vivid. His mood, seeping down through the concrete and the dirt.
When Lazarus dropped him off by his car this morning, Renee talked him into a quick deal before they parted, just fifty grams. The look of concern on Lazarus’ face, the begrudging acceptance, sparked a shame in Renee that’s hard to just brush off. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t cracked open that bag yet - because punishing himself with cocaine withdrawals seems more appropriate. Is that irrational? Probably. But what isn’t?
Goosebumps break out across his arms when he opens the cooler and is rushed with a front of cold air. He picks out a couple different energy drinks. As he makes his way back through the store, he grabs a small container of nuts, as well as a handful of protein bars, haphazardly discarding his pile of items on the counter. He’s pretty sure he’s forgetting something, but his mind is hazy, and he can’t really bring himself to care.
The cashier, a girl who doesn’t look much older than twenty, gives him a nod in place of a proper greeting, and starts scanning his items. Renee watches her progress, rubbing his eyes, and then his gaze thoughtlessly drifts to the magazine rack next to the counter. Among celebrity gossip and headlines that fill half the front pages, he catches an image of Conrad – that vacation photo the media always uses, taken on some pedestrian road with palm trees in the background. A black person’s arm – Howard’s, presumably - is draped over his shoulders, but their face is cropped out of frame. Conrad looks at ease in that photo, at least more at ease than Renee has ever seen him in person. There’s still an awkwardness to his posture, he clearly doesn’t like having his picture taken; but his smile looks genuine. Next to the picture of Conrad is a stock photo of a man’s silhouette illuminated from above, face obscured in the shadows cast by a hoodie.
Renee swallows, looking away before he can read the actual headline. Behind him, the door chime goes again, and he hears someone walk up behind him. A deep breath, then he clears his throat at the cashier. “Uh. Give me four packs of Marlboro reds as well.”
The girl looks up. “Do you have an ID I could see for that?”
Renee blinks. Gives the cashier a look.
“We check everybody, sir.”
Renee lets out a dejected sort of breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, and fishes around in his pocket for his wallet. “Driver’s license alright?”
The girl gives him a patient smile. “Just something with your face on it.”
He holds the card out between two fingers, and can’t help but curse himself at the way his hand is shaking slightly. The girl doesn’t comment on it, though, eyes quickly scanning the card before she nods and turns to the shelves behind her.
As he pays credit and shovels his items into his backpack, Renee feels watched, in a way that’s more than a little intrusive, by the cashier, by the customer behind him, by the camera above the counter, by Conrad, grinning from a tabloid shelf. He shrugs the backpack on, pushing past the customer behind him and heads for the door before the cashier is even halfway through wishing him a good day.
Grey clouds swirl like a layer of cotton above the landscape, too light to threaten rain, but none the less suffocating. The wind blows across the concrete field surrounding the gas station, biting at his skin through the seams of his clothes. Would’ve ruffled his hair a week ago – now the lack makes him shudder more easily. He climbs into the Clio, discarding his backpack on the passenger seat, pulls a cigarette and lights it. He takes the first few drags in silence, listening to how the wind swirls around the car, feeling its miniscule tugs on the carrosserie.
It’s such a cliché, framing the bad guy as a menacing figure cloaked in shadows. Something about that image alone feels like a caricature that serves only the purpose of dehumanizing, othering. People always strip away the understandable parts of evil to avoid having to face it in themselves. They shut their eyes to swallow that pill.
A turn of the keys, and the Clio rustles itself awake. The sound of the old motor is starting to become more reminiscent of a tractor than a car. Cigarette burning between his fingers, Renee pulls out to the gas station’s exit ramp, back onto the highway. He loses himself in driving. Everything else becomes secondary to following his own flow, the mindless weaving in and out of lanes.
But he hasn’t been on the highway for more than five minutes before a loud beep from the dashboard makes him look down. The little light next to the gas indicator has turned on. The needle is deep in the red.
Renee lets out a groan, gritting his teeth tight, clutching the wheel a little harder. “Shit.” He fiddles with the different settings on the turn signal lever, barely keeping the car in the center of his lane as he tries to find the setting that lets him see how many miles he has left. How do you go to a gas station and then forget to get gas?
A couple minutes of fiddling with the lever pass, until he finally gives up. There are no gas stations until he reaches the summer home neighborhood, and the highway is separated by a fenced off median strip, so no U-turns, either. He’s just gonna have to cross his fingers and hope.
His teeth are gritted until he finally reaches his exit, somewhat relieved that if he does get stranded, at least it won’t be on the side of the highway. There’s a red light at the end of the exit ramp, and he cringes at having to rev up the car in first gear to avoid stalling on the incline.
The country road he turns onto is deserted, fields on either side all rows of plowed mud, interspersed with patches of skeletonized trees. Isolated homesteads placed a respectable distance from the road, and the occasional faded colors of a billboard advertising private insurance or heavy farming equipment.
He's a mile in when the dashboard beeps again, and soon after, the car starts to slow down. Renee curses, changing to a lower gear, which seems to work for all of ten seconds, but then it slows again, even as the pedal is pushed to its limit. The tractor-esque likeness of the sound seems to amplify as the engine struggles to keep up. Eventually, it coughs, lets out a spluttery death rattle, and then stalls completely.
Still rolling with the momentum, Renee stomps down the clutch and switches the ignition off and tries to restart it. Uncertain whirring, in a rhythm that makes the whole cabin vibrate, but it never takes. The car creeps to a halt on the side of the road. Renee tries again. And again. On his fourth try, the engine doesn’t even try to stir – nothing happens at all.
Renee pulls the handbrake and sits back, rubbing his face with both hands, pressing his fingers hard over the thin skin of his closed eyelids. Feels like letting out a scream, but all that comes out is a low groan. He sits like that for a full minute, breathing through his nose. Then he lets his hands dump into his lap, staring bleakly out the windshield.
In the distance, a row of trees parting two fields are being pushed sideways by a rough wind, the last stubborn leaves breaking off, dancing across the horizon.
Renee looks at his backpack, jaw working. Grabs it, finds leverage with both thumbs in a small hole by the zipper and forces it apart by pulling on the fabric. From one of the smaller rooms, he pulls out the bag of cocaine, from another, his wallet. Discards the backpack on the passenger side floor with a little more force than necessary. He fishes his phone out of his wallet and balances it flat on his thigh. Nudges a few clumps of powder onto the screen. It’s all automatic at this point, he doesn’t even have to think about what he’s doing. The clumps are broken with a credit card, and two lines are arranged side by side along the length of the phone screen. His hands are shaking as he rolls a five dollar bill into a straw.
He pauses. Feels like throwing up. Feels like strangling himself with the seatbelt. Feels like bashing someone’s skull in. Feels like...
Closing one nostril with his index finger, holding the bill carefully between thumb and middle finger, Renee lifts the phone up, leans down. It’s a familiar feeling, however gross it felt the first time he tried. Like sucking powdered sugar straight into your brain. It appears at the back of the throat, and then you have to swallow it, despite the bitter taste, like you swallow the clots of a heavy nosebleed. Renee leans back, sniffing hard as he rubs his nose, letting out each breath through his mouth. Leans down for the second line, which goes up just as easily, sniffs some more. His throat is already starting to tingle. He licks the remaining powder off the phone, drying the saliva in his jeans.
Slightly breathless, he slumps back against the seat, hand clutched around his phone. Hits the back of his head against the headrest a couple times, scowling at nothing. Stalling won’t do him any good. He grits his teeth as he unlocks the screen, filtering through contacts until he finds Davin’s number. Rests his elbow on the ledge under the side window, leaning his temple against the root of his hand, lifts the phone to his ear.
The low dial tone, dragging across the ground once, twice, before there’s a click, a muted shuffling. Renee bounces his heel against the floormat.
There’s a faint thud, like a door closing, before Davin speaks. “Yeah?”
“My car broke down,” Renee says. Winces, but keeps his voice even. “I ran out of gas, I mean. I just need a hand.”
There’s a brief silence, and then Davin lets out a sharp sort of sigh. “How do you expect me to…?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Renee bites, “Figure something out. I mean it, man, I’m stuck in the middle of… piss-all nowhere.”
Davin lets out an exasperated breath. “I don’t have a car, Renee.”
“Then find one. I’m not walking four fuckin’ hours.”
Another silence, longer this time. A deep breath. “Alright. Send me your coordinates, then.”
Renee sniffs. “Shall do.”
A split second after he has ended the call, Renee tosses the phone onto the dashboard, leaning forward, running his hands over his head. Why’s it taking so long to kick in, anyway? Two lines usually get his heart beating in no time. He’s not that tolerant, is he?
Seeping through the dirt, like the roots of a tree clawing to get a proper hold of the earth, or the fluid that leaks out of a decomposing coffin. It strikes Renee as a natural law of sorts. Gravity, but not in the physical sense.
They see him like an alien, a stereotype. They attribute his actions to something inhuman and foreign, something unrecognizable. A nightmare, a monster. A hooded figure in the dark. Evil as something extraordinary.
It’s actually pissing him off, how delusional people choose to be. The mental gymnastics they have to employ to stay blind. While Conrad sees the good in all people, Renee sees the spiteful, the malicious, the selfishness everybody tries so damn hard to deny. He sees the egocentric note that carries every act of altruism, the spite and jealousy that accompanies every form of love. Ambition is a euphemism for greed, justice always stems from a sense of superiority. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is holy. Once you start digging past the surface, the only direction you can go is down.
Despite the lightness of the clouds, a few small specs of rain have scattered on the windshield. Renee lights another smoke, watching it slowly collect and bleed down the glass. Something inside him is returning, he can feel it. It’s been hell for a while, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe Conrad got his claws into him after all. That naïveté played tricks, in its own subtle, insidious ways. Renee forgot himself in a moment of weakness, and he ended up sharing the delusion. But evil is universal to the point of banality. Despite Conrad’s insistence, there’s nothing extraordinary about what Renee has done, or about his drives. Renee only stands out for honesty.
Davin’s greed is blatant. As is Lazarus’ willful negligence, entirely unjustified despite his efforts to deal conscientiously. Even Conrad himself, so keen to keep up a façade of innocence, gets that hateful look in his eyes, and his attempts to humanize himself occasionally get marred by a vengeful, sadistic desire.
A gun or a knife, hm? Or something else…?
Gun.
Where? …Where would you shoot me?
Head.
That’s the thing: You have to own it, don’t you?
Renee chuckles lightly to himself. Leans back against the headrest, eyes closed. Maybe it’s the coke creeping in, but it feels like a veil has been lifted.
The man he was six months ago, before all of this, before he even met Davin, is still in there. Renee can feel him. That carefree, fuck-all attitude, the easy way he carried himself, the deep sense of independence, remorseless freedom. His head got clouded by the fog of uncertainty, but he can lift himself out of it easily enough. It’s all so straightforward.
You just have to own it.
💵
Thirty minutes pass. The peak of the high, Renee spends pacing for a hundred yards up and down the country road, wind chill biting at his face, but muted under the familiar sense of euphoria. Once it starts to dip, around the forty-five minute mark, he climbs back into his car and chases with another line, smaller this time, nothing crazy. Sits with his knee bumping against the steering wheel, hands kept warm in his pockets, just enjoying the sensations of being, for a while. The way his heart beats, the way the air feels in his lungs, the numbness of his throat, the back of his tongue. He feels as easy and light as he does resilient, self-assured. Exquisitely fucked up and powerful. He feels like himself.
He sees the car coming from a mile away. A small, dark dot on the horizon that slowly rides the waves of the landscape. A sedan. Renee recognizes the typical design of a Mercedes long before he can make out the logo on the front grill – something about pareidolia, the expressions that cars make. Mercedes always look vaguely pissed off. As it pulls up on the opposite side of the road, Renee can’t help but marvel a bit. No scratches or dents in the warm gray lacquer, shiny wheel rims, tinted windows in the back. The kind of car you can tell has leather seats before you even take a look inside.
Bracing his door against the impact of the wind, Renee steps out on the road in the same moment Davin does. The few strands of hair that aren’t caught in the bun on the back of Davin’s head are instead whipped about his face. The collar of his coat is turned up.
Renee lights a smoke, then points to the Mercedes with the cigarette. “I didn’t think you could hotwire cars that new.”
As Davin shuts the door, he looks at the car briefly. “You can’t,” he concedes. And he holds up his hand, wiggling a key between his fingers.
Renee frowns. “It’s yours?”
“It’s a rental. For now, at least. You reminded me why it might be a good idea to have a second car available.”
He walks toward the back of the car and pops the trunk open, pulls out a red gas canister and a funnel. Hands both to Renee, who, much to his own quiet dismay, has to throw the fresh cigarette away before he takes them.
As he fumbles with the gas cap on the Clio and sets up the funnel, Davin stands a few paces away, watching. Renee can’t help his stomach from churning at that feeling, as if every movement he makes is being noted, jotted down. The stench of gasoline fumes soon serve as a distraction, as he pours the clear, yellowish liquid down the funnel. “Listen, I, ah…” He clears his throat. “I had a bit of a mental breakdown yesterday. After I left, I mean.”
He glances up at Davin, who has only raised a brow in response.
“I don’t really know what happened, it’s just… been a crazy couple weeks, you know? I think it’s been building. But it’s all good, I’m fine now.”
Davin snorts, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Looks into the distance for a moment, lips pursed. When he looks back at Renee, his expression is solemn. “I couldn’t have done this alone. So as much as I hate having to rely on other people, I have to rely on you. I have to be able to trust you.”
Renee grimaces. “You can,” he says. “You can, dude. I just freaked out a bit, but I’m back in business, I’m feeling it. I’ll do whatever.”
Davin nods slowly. Markedly doesn’t say anything.
For once, the ominous silence doesn’t really bother Renee, at least not to any greater extent. Although brief, he said his piece, so now it’s no longer on him.
The last few drops of gasoline are shaken off the canister, then the funnel. Renee screws the cap back in place, handing canister and funnel to Davin before he ducks into the passenger seat of the Clio, without shutting the door.
On the first turn of the key, the engine rustles awake.
Renee shoots a wide grin up at Davin. “We’re so back, baby.”
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The sheer craziness of a fandom
I’ve been thinking about the title of this post for this evening for a while. It could as well be, ‘How conspiracies are created while you watch it’ , or ‘How do we shoot the messenger, and make it our own narrative’. Or how to make an elephant out of a mouse! I had a few more...
Let me start with a short summary about last night.
While I was watching the movie ‘JFK’ and had a nice quiet evening, some harmless chatting during the commercial breaks. At around half past 11 (my timezone, which is an hour ahead of UK), I received an Anon. Telling me about a new fan pic (nice), which was posted on FB (easy to find), in the comments of that post a location was mentioned, a hotel in Glasgow. The Anon did research a little more, and found a picture of a random person on IG, found by searching on the location tag of the restaurant. The picture showing SH in the background. I checked it all, and it was all found easily with the details the Anon gave me. I decided to blur the location and the IG account name, as like everyone knows here, I did had bad experience with it. Knowing the fandom how they ruthlessly bother strangers on sm in their hunt for more....
So I just posted the fan pic, my only comment being thanks to the Anon and ‘interesting’. And I posted the background part of the IG picture he appeared in, cropping out the guy on the left that was the subject, but as a non public person didn’t want to put his face up here. Nothing else was cropped out. Of course, discussion is followed, the picture is analyzed a bit, someone with a furry coat, a shopping bag, champagne bottles in a cooler. Glasses on the table. Not me, but other analyzing the pic and try to make any sense of it. I wont say I didn’t, because yes of course I receive Anons asking me questions. Is it the same furry coat KE wore in her plane picture with the tennis player. (No) is he with a date or with who can he be? I don’t know is my answer, as I can not make more out of a picture than it is. I see the champagne bottles yes, so indicates he’s on a date. I see he’s not all dressed up, and dare I say looks messy actually, so that doesn’t really indicate he did some efforts for a date to look nice... but can I say something for sure? No I can’t.
I can see as much in that pic as everyone else. I just don’t make up the mind blowing narratives and didn’t over-analyze every detail and pixel of the random pic where he appears in the background. I simply posted them as they are. But 24 hours later.... I can tell you this:
# Receiving Accusations
Already after posting just the picture, I start receiving accusations of Anons, telling me it’s all my fault, I stir the pot, I’m hateful, I try to make up things, try to make people believe things etc. etc. I don’t know, I didn’t even bother to actually read that BS. FFS all I did was posting 2 pics. People having an opinion about what is there to see in that pic is all on themselves and not on me. I do not make them look at things. I simply post the pic and nothing else. What is so hateful about posting a fan pic? Multiple accounts do the same. What is hateful, or making people believe something about finding a picture where he is in the background? Was it hard to find? Not at all, just a simple location check on IG, et voila, he was on the first pic there, and totally clear it was him. And the hotel restaurant is a known place to be.
# Analyzing pictures
Did I put arrows or circles on the pictures? Did I tell anybody look over here not over there? Did I say it was this or that woman that must be with him on a date? Did I blow up the pic to look for reflections in a mirror?
All of the above I’ve been accused of in the past. I don’t know, but today after 24 hours, I see exactly these kind of things appear on blogs of bloggers that accused me of these things. Not on mine! Did you see any of these 2 pics on my blog with an arrow? Or circle. Did I tell you how many glasses there are on the table? Or in what direction he is looking, across the table or not? Any of this?
# Cropping the picture
Yes, I did crop the picture where he appears in the background. but on the left, where the guy who posted it was. not the right part where the company S was with, was seated. Yet, I see all kind of accusations at my account, another pic where it is cropped of. I am the one trying to hide something. It isn’t, it is plain and simple a picture of a random guy that coincidentally had S in the background. Didn’t even realize it and had no eye for him nor his company. Why would they crop it off is beyond me. It is pure conspiracy thinking that makes anybody think so. And no, not a PR or anybody of S’s team dropping things in my inbox. Simply a fan pic, at a location, that can be searched on IG (or any socials) and a random pic with S in the background, not even vague or hard to recognize. that is all there is to it.
# We Anti’s are afraid of....
Gosh, this is the most hilarious I read on other blogs. On the one who promotes a relationship between S and KE as well as on the Shipperville Gazette! According to them, we must be afraid they’re right, and we’re all wrong. Oh gosh, I swear, the nightmares I have about that... I wake up sweating like hell, what if they are right and I am wrong! 🙄 Just go figure... I must convince you of them being wrong! Do I try so? Did I try to convince anybody of something last night, or today? Why am I even called an anti? What exactly am I anti off? Isn’t it just the other way around. Because every time I post something it seems all sides start to get busy creating the narratives around it to make sure a) It is how they explain things and make sure you look at it that way, b) They all of the sudden have sources that can tell them all the insides. c) create chaos and send anons around to make people doubt you. d) create conspiracy theories e) make sure to prove that where it comes from can not be trusted
# I can not be trusted
Yes, the biggest conspiracy theory that appears on all kind of pictures or posts of pictures that it must be ‘dropped’ into inboxes of someone somehow by somebody. Or worse, that account is someone paid by his team to post this or that. I’ve seen it so many times. It happened in the past, and it is happening to me now. I’ve seen posts and comments on other blogs about me saying, I suddenly came out of nowhere (no I didn’t, I live on this earth for quite some time) and now I am all of the sudden the authority here. (oh here, wait yes, I came here 3 years ago, lurking around for quite some time, never heard of Tumblr but as I read on Twitter to not go here, I did. I always do things when people claim to not do them.. well almost always. Oh and I have a brain that works). And I can’t be right, as the ones that claim so are here for so many years and they are the ones that are ‘always’ right!
So beware, don’t buy what I post is the notification. I seem to be paid by his team (where’s the money? I want it!) Oh no, on the other side, I’m just here to make him look bad! Gosh, it’s beyond me, why they’re so invested in what I post actually in the first place? Why... go figure why!
But yeah, paint me black afterwards, when it doesn’t fit your narrative, Ad Hominem, I’ve posted about that before. If all the explaining and creating of narratives and conspiracy theories isn’t enough to you to convince your followers of your ‘right’ shoot the messenger!
# The Result
And the fine result that is achieved by all of this? The fan on FB that posted her fan pic with S took it down! The guy that posted the picture on IG where S was in the background went private. I think we can all figure out why. Surely people went there to bother them, maybe even leave nasty messages. I took caution, did not post the name of the IG account. Did blur the location. It’s not that i think so nobody can find it, but at least you have to do some efforts for it. Still people need to post it in full (not me) and thus the crazies go there and bother these people, regardless of what these people now must think. Never again post a pic with him, destroying their joy about the pic they posted. The fan, proud of meeting him, and the guy posting a simple celebration picture of him and his partner having a diner at a fancy hotel. What will be their thoughts on this fandom! I think we can all imagine!
And for what exactly? For 2 simple pictures that show a fan with him at a hotel, and that shows a guy that had him in the background at the same date he was there. And nothing else that can be made out of it then that S was in Glasgow at a restaurant with somebody drinking champagne on Saturday 26 of November! Now who is creating the fuzz here exactly?!
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Rating killers albums by cover art:
Hut Fuss: This album clearly takes place underground. but here? roofs. The characters translate to "construction material development" like ok? But points for being inconic and lite-brite dot logo you will always be famous. (5/10)
Sam's Town: The Felice LaZae and bighorn sheep joint slay! Best album title. I like the red font, but it's unclear if it's meant to look like it's painted on or floating in front. It's a small thing but cursive supposed to have a space between letters when there's an apostrophe (Sam ' s). (8/10)
Sawdust: I like the juxtaposition of the alarm clock font and the earthy background but it's kind of cluttered and the hand looks silly. (2/10)
Day & Age: I've never seen an album looks so much like the music before I love it sooso much. They get the desert! I like that the lite-brite logo is incorporated into the mosaic (10/10)
Battleborne: Captures the freedom and anxiety of driving through U.S. Route 6 speed limit 200 mph no sign of life except unfenced livestock and what if you run out of gas did you bring enough water (it looks like the most efficient way through Nevada but for the love of god take 80 or 15). My favorite logo and my favorite album title. I can have 2 favorites. (9/10)
Wonderful Wonderful: RIP Logo 😔 you know when your parents come back from vacation and half their pictures are just shells on the ground? And sorry you cannot put a pussy front and center like this without delivering on the music. (1/10)
Imploding the Mirage: Obviously gorgeous, fits the theme.. I want to like it. Just doesn't hit as much as the the Day & Age/Battleborne landscapes. how I feel about the album in general 🫣 (6/10)
I love the style of little spotify pictures though. like this goes hard:
Pressure Machine: this is very on the nose but I do not care I asked for a return of smug reddit atheism and they delivered. I like the cropped landscape and overall simplicity. the name of the band and album are on it! not the original logo which is fine because the cutie dots seem inappropriate for all the suicides that happen. (7/10)
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Second set of animated backgrounds for self directed project
After getting further along with the project and getting more comfortable with my concept and also getting more comfortable with animating, I was able to come up with some more background tests, these of which are a lot more final and complex. After a tutorial with Jeremy, he said I should explore collage further in this project and try animating some images, make a moving collage. I had dabbled in this concept a little bit in my previous background attempts but I never got satisfying results, I found it very hard to make a dynamic animation with pictures that cannot have movement. But then I thought, why can’t they? So I decided to take several images and find ways to make them move in a fluid way on top of my collages.
My first collage, the animated fish, turned out to be one of my favourite ones. I can’t quite remember how but I remember scrolling on Pinterest and seeing an image that inspired the idea of something splitting apart. This gave me the inspiration for this sequence. I first came up with the background image. Taking a photo of some buildings, changing the hue and layering on top the demon silhouettes. I then took the image of the fish and frame by frame took half of the picture further away to the left. When the main movement was done I went over each layer, connecting the two ends with stringy lines, that I made sure to blend smoothly into the image (adding this step cost me some time!). After that I layered the background under each frame and got my first final gif. If I could improve on this one I would have modified the hue of the fish to fit the colours of the background better.
My second gif leans more on the psychedelic aesthetic rather than horror, but I like it none the less. My process for coming up with collages is to usually roam Pinterest and find random images of all sorts of things. I sometimes have a particular idea of the collage I want to make going in, but this wasn’t one of those times. Animation is the result of simply putting together 3 images I found aesthetically pleasing. The 3 boys blended into the bottom half of the background is actually an art piece from the exhibition I did for the CCS brief. I really liked that artwork and decided to include it in a background for this module. The flying centipede baby didn’t animate as I originally planned. I wanted it to move across the screen like a centipede so I tried to distort the image from left to right to emulate this movement but in the end it just looks like a ghost floating across the screen. However it adds to the psychedelic effect of the background. Something I didn’t plan but I love the way it turned out.
Number 3 and 4 are the most simple sequences of the 5 animations. I decided to keep them simple because the backgrounds in themselves were already busy enough, but I liked that aspect. I used the same background two different ways, to experiment with colours and variation a bit more. Number 3 has a very cyber futuristic aesthetic to it, a concept I looked into during my research phase with the fashion designer Nixi Killick. I found the picture of the monsters and loved it straight away. The original picture included 2 more creatures in the distant background so I had to manually crop the background out of the image. Since the creatures were so complex and detailed, this process took over an hour. After cropping out the background, I loved how they stood against the background of my collage. I distorted the legs to move left to right ans adjusted the hues, then I was happy with the outcome. Number 4 utilises the background image a lot more. I had this image of the skeleton figures in my camera roll that I hadn’t used from a collage image hunt before and I wanted to use it. The animation is simple but having to crop each moving image to fit under the stairs was a long and tedious process! I was happy with the outcome but thought the metamorphosis element lacked, especially in colour, so I added a gradual fade into black and white over the animation.
The last animation is by far my favourite! Mostly for the fact that I found a creative way to make my animated background go from happy, cute aesthetics to something darker and creepy. I started by animating the cat at the bottom left. I wanted to use the springs to my advantage and create a left to right motion to emulate the movement of a spring. It could have turned out better but I am happy with the outcome. The moon in the top left was a simple turn sequence, but I loved this moon image and wanted to include it. The woman on the left added a lot of creepiness so I tried to make her come in later than the other animations. Finally I got an image of a skull and layered it with a negative colour filter, then made it grow until the colours filled the screen, changing the hues completely. I loved this idea, the contrast between colours was obvious and effective in changing mood.
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need
♥ pairing: mista x gn!reader
♡ description: SMUT; After teasing you all day, you needed him.
♥ warnings/info: sexting in public, male orgasm, mista is a certified menace, blowjob kind of, he calls you kitten
♥ ♡ ♥
Before he could even close the door, you were on him. Mista let out a gasp but he had no reason to be surprised; he'd been teasing you all day.
It started with sending you a picture of him shirtless after he showered while you were asleep. A towel hung low on his hips and his happy trail led down to what you wanted to see most. A few hours later it was a picture of him lifting up his crop top and biting his lip, which would’ve made you laugh (him looking like a typical tool), if his abs and hairy chest weren't on display for you. Barely half an hour passed before he sent you something else; this time it was a video. The lighting wasn't the best but you could tell he was in the bathroom at Libeccio. His palm rubbed the large bulge in his striped pants. The video was silent aside from the muffled background noise of the restaurant. Along with the video, he sent you a simple text: miss you. Immediately you hid your phone under your work desk and furiously typed back asking what he was doing. A few minutes passed before he replied thinking of you with another video: this time with his hard cock out, hand pumping it as he breathed heavily. You were so glad you turned down your coworker’s offer to go out to eat for lunch because that meant no one else heard the moan Mista let out as he came all over his hand. The video ended with cum dripping down his fingers and a cheeky smile to the camera.
Thanks to your bastard of a boyfriend, you spent the rest of your shift extremely horny and ready to get home. Unlike him, you weren't as bold as to send things like that in public, much less at your workplace. As you drove home you prayed he'd be home so you two could fuck on every flat surface in your shared apartment but you had no such luck. He was probably out with the gang which left you alone. You didn't even bother masturbating, knowing it wouldn't truly satisfy you. You opted to shower and change into something more comfortable and idle around while you waited for him. No matter what you did, your mind went back to everything he sent and you found yourself opening up the messages multiple times. You’d been turned on since this morning and you needed him now. As if your prayers were answered, you heard the door being unlocked and nearly leapt off the couch. You pushed him back against the door and smashed your lips onto his, moaning at the contact you'd be craving all day. He was startled but he wrapped his strong arms around you and moved his thick lips over yours. He pulled back with a light nip to your bottom lip and smirked.
"What's this about kitten?" The smugness was gone as soon as you pulled him closer by his belt; something you knew turned him on to no end. Your hands ripped his hat off and threw it to the side so you could desperately tug at his curly brown locks.
"You know damn well what this is about Guido." Maintaining eye contact with him as you sank to your knees, you pulled down his pants and briefs at once. He was half hard already and you moved closer to let your breath lightly wash over his cock and balls. You placed the head of his cock on your lips and gave it a light kiss. Even though he could barely feel the contact he moaned loudly. With his cock on your lips and his eyes on you, you desperately mewled.
“I need you.”
#mista guido x reader#mista guido smut#mista smut#jjba smut#jjba x reader#as.jjba#as.smut#as.writes#finally getting around to posting all my old fics that have been sitting in my docs for over a year lmfao
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unexpected relief
summary ─ he was supposed to visit the website natasha had told him, the website where he could find the knife set and maybe order one. he was sure as fuck this website standing before him wasn’t the same one that natasha had talked about.
pairing ─ avenger!bucky barnes x camgirl!reader
warnings ─ smut, +18, cam sex, voyeriusm, dirty talk, sex toys, masturbation
a/n ─ i have been reading a lot of camboy/camgirl aus and i wanted to write my own! hope i nailed it tho fhsdjfhsf hope you like it! please let me know if you did!
Bucky was supposed to be searching for some knife set Natasha had talked about after their briefing. He was supposed to visit the website Natasha had told him, the website where he could find the knife set and maybe order one.
He was sure as fuck this website standing before him wasn’t the same one that Natasha had talked about.
It had a dark background. Light-colored writing were telling him that whoever owned this website was a young girl who loved praises and cuddling after sex, and she was into cockwarming, gagging, bondage and light breath play and her favorite positions were legs up and reverse cowgirl.
Bucky had to look away from his laptop screen so that he wouldn’t have a heart attack and maybe come in his pants. When he looked back at the screen, there was an invitation for him.
“Wanna play?” It said, “I can show you how I play with myself if you have something for me.” The girl on the screen smiled sweetly at him, and Bucky frowned. It said that if he were to subscribe right now, it would only cost him $15. Unintentionally, Bucky let out a ‘huh’ sound. He was intrigued, though. So, Bucky went through some of the pictures that she had posted. These pictures weren’t as naughty as her description section, but Bucky figured that these pictures must have been free. He bit his lip.
He was curious.
His fingers clicked on the subscribe button. Only after a minute, Bucky had an account: yasha17. His bank account was $15 less rich, but somehow he wasn’t disturbed by such an unnecessary expense.
“Hello,” Bucky heard a girly voice and jumped on his seat. “Welcome, I hope you like what I’ll be posting for you.” Bucky watched the girl on the screen tilt her head to her side adorably. She had black lace underwear on her, complimenting her soft-looking skin very well. Her hair was loose, hanging down over her shoulders. She was beautiful, and it looked like she knew that.
The screen changed. Suddenly, Bucky had an access to all the real naughty pictures, and he was going to come in his pants if he continued to go through them. Some of them were in front of a mirror: Her legs wide open, naked as the day she was born but hastily thrown a white crop top with no bra, her fingers were inside of her pussy. The next picture was a close-up shot of the previous one: The soft light had made the slickness of her pussy visible. Bucky groaned softly.
“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself as he stumbled upon a picture of her topless. She was in front of her window, sun was setting but she caught a good light. She had no clothing on her torso, her breasts were open to those who paid to see in their beautiful glory. Bucky could swear by his Ma’s grave that he had never seen this much of a pretty pair of breasts in his life. He also could see the small metal bars attached to both of her nipples, and this time Bucky’s groan was louder.
“What the fuck,” he grunted. The next thing was a short video.
She was lying on her bed, her hair splayed over the pillows. She had a silky nightgown which she tied in front of her. She was also wearing a garter belt made from the same fabric. Bucky could see her hard nipples through the flimsy fabric. She had nothing under that nightgown, he knew it. He grunted again, deeper this time. He watched fingers move south, play with the hem of the nightgown.
Bucky almost choked on his own spit when he heard her talking filth: “I’m so wet,” she whined. “So fucking wet, the bedding is all wet, too.” A rustle happened and suddenly Bucky had a sight of her very slick pussy in front of his eyes.
“Fuck,” he groaned as he felt his cock drool. Her fingers swiped her juices over the lips of her pussy, and then dipped inside. “Fuck, yes.” Bucky couldn’t stop the soft moans and sometimes deep growls that he let out.
“Can you hear the sound of my fingers?” She whimpered. “I’m so wet for you, you could slide right in. Can you, please?” Bucky had never wrapped his hand around himself this quick before.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Bucky chanted as he squeezed the base of his cock and gave his balls the same treatment. “Fuck, so good. Mm.” His cock was oozing so much precum, Bucky didn’t even need to reach for lube. Bucky whimpered quietly as he swiped his metal thumb around his cock head. He could hear her soft whimpers and moans.
Bucky turned his eyes from his cock to the screen again. She was playing with the strings of her garter belt; she was pulling and letting them go so that they would smack her skin. Her skin looked so good, so soft, Bucky was going fucking insane. His hands were itching to touch, to grab.
“Do you wanna see…?” Bucky heard her ask and he gulped. Her fingers were now playing with her gown strings. If she were to undo the strings, Bucky would have an eyeful of her sexy body. He groaned.
“Yes,” he muttered to himself, heartbroken to know that she couldn’t hear him. “Please, fuck, please.” She smiled like she could hear him, and her fingers pulled the strings free.
The silk slipped from her smooth-looking skin softly. Bucky moaned loudly, this time, because she was so fucking beautiful. Her moles and stretch marks were covering her body; her curves were gentle, begging Bucky to grab them, feel them under his hands. Her breasts had the perfect size; Bucky could fit them in his hands so easily. His eyes watered with the want of sucking those perky nipples.
“Like what you see?” She hummed. Her fingers were now playing with her nipples, just like Bucky wanted to. She squeezed them, rolled them between her fingertips and pulled on them. “Wish you were here to suck them,” she breathed. “My nipples are so sensitive. I can come just from playin’ with’em.”
Bucky was going to die before this video ended, he knew it.
She pushed the gown off her shoulders slowly. By doing that, she revealed her perfect pussy to Bucky’s pervert ones with its glory. It wasn’t partially hidden by the gown this time, and Bucky felt his balls tightening warningly.
“Fu─” He gasped, squeezing the base of his cock, Bucky tried to hold his orgasm back. “Not─ oh, shit, no, no!” He squeezed harder and felt the tightening ease off slowly. Breathing deeply, Bucky slumped back against his pillows. The sweat had gathered on his forehead, his chest was glistening with the thin layer of it, too.
“Good thing you didn’t come,” Bucky heard her voice and froze. He thought it was a previously recorded video, but apparently it wasn’t. “Otherwise we couldn’t increase the fun we’re having, right?” Bucky swallowed harshly. Could she see him? If she could, then Bucky was in deep shit. Probably. “I can’t see you, if that’s what you’re wondering. I can hear you, though. Love your moans,” she breathed. “They’re so deep, mm, makes my pussy clench every time I hear them.”
“Oh, shit,” Bucky whispered. She smirked. Her hand snaked underneath her pillow and she pulled out a dildo. “Jesus fucking─” She chuckled darkly.
“I said we’ll be increasing the fun, remember?” She winked at him. Bucky had to avert his gaze from the screen to some very unattractive and unsexy point in his room so that he wouldn’t come. He could get hard again, probably under a minute, but this was better. Edging.
She ran the tip of the dildo up and down her pussy for a couple times. Wetting the toy with her juices, she pressed it in. She threw her head back as she moaned while sinking the toy in. “Feels so good,” she whimpered. “So good.”
Bucky clenched his jaw. Oh, how he wanted to be the toy… Sinking into her wet heat… Feeling her walls tighten around his shaft… He’d fuck her with abandon, pounding into her and maybe fucking her one of her favorite positions. Bucky would throw her legs over his shoulders and bend her in half. He bet he could hit her sweet spot with that position.
Bucky’s cock twitched and leaked even more precum. Bucky panted harshly as he ran his hand over his tip, smearing the precum all over his cock.
“I can hear the slick sound,” she moaned. She was writhing on her bed with her dildo moving in and out of her quickly. The toy was so wet, Bucky could see it glistening every time she pulled it out. “Wish you were here,” she moaned again, “I would ride you so good!” She threw her head back as the toy brushed her sweet spot, barely surpassing her scream.
“Yeah, you would,” Bucky couldn’t stop himself. “I would make you come over and over and over again, baby, you would lose your mind.” She whined loudly.
“Yes, I want that!” The toy started to move in quicker. Her free hand was playing with her nipple.
“Show me how you’d ride my cock, c’mon,” Bucky rasped. He was so close, but determined to hold back. She moaned brokenly, but changed her position. Adjusting the toy, she sank down on it slowly. “Yeah,” Bucky growled. “Jus’ like that, move, baby.” She gasped when she started moving.
“Faster,” Bucky ordered, his voice was a harsh whisper. She complied. Holding onto her bedpost, she started to ride the toy with all her might. Bucky could see the toy disappearing in her beautiful pussy. “Fuck, baby, yes,” Bucky hissed, his thumb swiping over his cock head.
“’M close,” she whimpered. “’m so fucking close, ah!” She stopped bouncing but started to grind. Her movements were desperate, Bucky could easily see it. She kept whimpering, her moans getting louder each passing second.
“Me too,” Bucky grunted. “Come, baby,” Bucky snarled. His flesh hand was moving rapidly over his cock, his metal one was squeezing his balls rhythmically. He listened to her delicious moans, watched her writhe on the bed, watched her getting even more desperate. She ground down once, twice and she came hard. Shouting, her thighs started to tremble violently, hands grabbing wherever they could reach.
Bucky swore at the sight before him. Squeezing his balls a little tightly, he swiped his thumb under the crown of his cock and gasped. White stripes hitting the laptop screen, Bucky groaned long and loudly. He was still moving his hand on his cock, slowly and fist tight. Bucky felt his own thighs shook slightly, muscles jumping.
“Fuck,” she muttered. “I’m─” Then, she chuckled. “Gonna sound cliché but I’ve never came that hard before, holy shit.” She continued to chuckle to herself, making Bucky smile at the prospect.
“Glad I could make that happen,” Bucky murmured. The day’s exhaustion hit him suddenly as the tension in his body disappeared into the thin air. He buried himself deeper into his bed. “This was amazing,” he murmured again. She hummed approvingly.
“I’ll be here on every Saturday for you,” she purred. “At the same time.” Bucky looked at the bottom right clock at the corner. 7:30PM.
“I like that plan,” Bucky purred back. She giggled and blew him a kiss.
“Take care, Handsome. I’ll see you next week,” she winked and the screen went black.
Bucky stayed silent; his thigh muscles still jumping softly, the power of his orgasm still coursing through his veins. What just happened, he thought to himself. He just had the best orgasm he ever had in this century. He laughed at himself as he cleaned the come from both his body and the screen. After closing the laptop, Bucky placed it on his bedside drawer and buried himself under his duvet.
He fell asleep with a satisfied smile on his face.
No nightmares chased after Bucky that night.
#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fanfiction#camgirl au#bucky barnes au
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all the flowers will bloom
summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.
warnings: honestly nothing, really! well, i’m busting out this chapter once again, before i go into work so there are most likely typos!!
background: so this is inspired by the myth and stuff, but there are for sure some differences!! the world of mythology is so so intricate and it’s hard to get everything down and accurate- so i took the liberty to not LMAO
word count: 3.1k
You remembered having a slightly rebellious phase that lasted maybe ten years. It wasn’t long at all in the grand scheme of things, and the things that you did were simply things that people with normal parents did. The type of parents who weren’t afraid of their children being stolen from them. One time, you remembered sneaking into a forest where nymphs you didn’t know were, and they loved you on sight, without even knowing who you were. An even more grand escape involved a human celebration, the solstice to be exact, and a man with sea green eyes. He was taken by you, and for a minute, you remembered being taken by him. You were loved by everyone who knew you, and by those who only met you briefly, even the older gods.
So why had you not heard of anyone coming to get you? It had only been a few hours, but you knew that your mother had already gone crazy. She had some kind of danger meter when it came to you, and you were surprised that she hadn't sensed the fact that you were scared and somewhere unfamiliar yet. You used to hate the danger meter that always seemed to know when you were up to being the young soul you were, but now you were counting on that bothersome danger meter.
Hades had been kind enough to show you to where you would be staying herself. You expected a ghost or some sort of half dead spirit to give you a tour of the place, the one place you were never supposed to be, but she did it herself. She was rather monotonous, and she sounded like she would rather be counting the souls in her domain one at a time, but she did it. The short tour ended with the door slamming in your face after you told her that your mother would be searching for you, and then there you were.
There were no windows in your room, and you weren’t even sure that you wanted any in the first place. The windows in your home showed beautiful mountains and valleys and there was even a meadow, but the Underworld was nowhere near as beautiful to you. You missed your colors, you missed singing to the flowers and coaxing soil into being healthy enough to grow crops. It hadn’t even been a full day, and you were facing from withdrawals. And you were too scared to even address the fact that you could still smell the death, and that you could still feel it lingering around you even after the Lady of the Dead cast whatever spell that she did.
It felt like you were being sucked from the life that was always naturally within you, and it was terrifying.
The room was just as dark and dismal as the rest of the Underworld, or, at least what you had seen of it. It was depressing and gloomy, and it made you feel like a prisoner. With every passing second, you regretted not listening to your mother. You sat on the stiff bed, your eyes welling with tears as the extent of what happened started to sink in. Your hands shook as you wiped your cheeks, even though the action was useless against the new army of tears that were marching down your face, rounding the curve and clinging to your skin.
You knew what was happening. You replenished the tree. You fixed it, and with fixing the historical tree that you should have known about, you ultimately and unintentionally signed your life away, consenting to being stolen down into the Underworld until you could fix the entire Elysian Garden. You thought it was an impossible feat, and if by the grace of all the Olympian Gods you did succeed, it would be years before you finished. A sob escaped your throat and you turned to lay on your stomach, sobbing into the pillow that was less than comfortable.
You were going to be dead before you even got a look at flowers again.
§§
Before you even realized that you fell asleep, you were being woken up by the feeling of death grasping at you, tickling every hair on your body. You rolled to the side to catch your breath on the hard bed and let yourself cry again, the pitiful noises so loud that you didn’t even hear anyone approaching you.
Two hands grabbed you and turned you on your back, and you coughed weakly at the ceiling. “It should work,” you heard a voice mutter, and then there was a warm palm right on your throat, the other above your sternum as you tried to catch your breath. All you could focus on was the warmth, the sheer warmth that you expected to find nowhere in the realm of the dead. As your airways unclogged, you turned to the side and hacked again, breathed in and out a few times, and then turned to look towards the person who saved you.
She looked different. Somehow, she looked even more intimidating in the all black clothing she was wearing. It was a far cry from a dress, and closer to the suits that you saw humans wear. She was staring down at you with her calculating and cold eyes, examining you and surely judging. You made your own judgement. “Why are you so warm?”
Her hard expression faltered. “What?”
You narrowed your eyes at her, forgetting for a moment that she was as old as dirt and that she could easily take your breath away without any effort. “How are your hands so warm?” you got utter silence from her, and you knew that she was cursing at you in her head. “You’re dead.”
There was the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face. “I’m not dead. I’m a god, I don’t die.”
You didn’t think you could, either, but you had been at Death’s door twice already within twenty four hours. “How are you the Goddess of Death and the Underworld if you’re not dead?”
“Are you not the Goddess of Agriculture?” She asked, one of her brows arched. “Then why are you not a stalk of corn?”
You shook your head. “That’s not the same.”
She gave you a look. “It certainly is.”
“How are you ruling over a group of people without ever knowing how it feels to be the way that they are?” You asked.
“You do not know how it feels to be a flower, yet you make them grow.” She reasoned, and you shook your head adamnely. “I do not have to be able to die to know how someone feels. I have witnessed it for years and years.”
“But I do know how it feels to be a flower,” you corrected, voice soft as you began to slip onto the mindset you got when your bare feet touched the grass. “I feel every living thing near me, all the time. I can feel the energy that comes from flowers. I can feel the way they drink up the sun and the rain, and the way they weave their roots into the ground. I can feel seedlings sprouting from the soil, and I can feel buds coming alive to show petals. I know how it feels to be a flower, and a tree, and a shard of grass, and a stalk of corn. That’s why I do so well with them.”
It was silent between the two of you as you got an eyeful of her, and she did the same to you. You found yourself staring into her eyes, and you noticed that they held more color than Bucky’s seas. Her eyes might have been the most colorful thing in the kingdom she ruled. She blinked, and you stopped your staring. “Will you bring that same confidence to my garden?”
“I do not know if I can fix something so dead.”
“My tree had been dead for thousands upon thousands of years, and you made it bloom again.”
“It wasn’t surrounded by death,” you pointed out, and she crossed her arms. “I mean, well, it was, but not like everything down here is. This place drains me.”
“It will until you accept that you’re here,” she said, and you scowled at her. “You will wake up in pain until you understand that you’re here. It’s a side effect of dying.”
Your heart raced in your throat. “Dying?”
“You’re not dead, not yet.” When you gave her a horrified look, she smirked. “A human would be dead the second they arrived, but because you’re a god, it will work slowly for you.”
“Are you saying that I have a literal deadline?” You asked, voice wavering slightly as you tried to be brave while thinking about all the ways you could possibly get the godforsaken garden to grow, and as fast as possible. If you didn’t see your mother again in one piece, there would be hell to pay. She would find a way to resurrect you to kill you all over again.
“As long as you let me take the death out of your system, you’ll live long enough to fix my garden.”
You figured that was what her touch was doing to you. You remembered someone touching your throat after you fell, and you knew it was her. She took the death out of you, but it still hovered over your skin, anxious to get back inside of you and eat you whole. It knew just as much as you did that you had no business being there. At least, not alive.
You knew that the likelihood of you being able to fix the garden was slim to none. Part of you wanted to say no to save yourself from the humiliation of pushing yourself. You were supposed to be an expert at growth, some even said you were better at growing than your mother. She focused on the big picture, getting out as many crops as possible and sometimes forgetting quality, but you took your time. She was more powerful than you by miles and miles, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe you could do it. You were going to have to, if you wanted to leave. “Has anyone else ever tried to grow your garden?”
The Goddess of the Underworld was so silent that you thought she didn’t hear you, but when you looked over at her, she was staring right at you with her undead eyes, an unreadable look on her face. “One.”
You nodded and looked at your hands, and the flowers that were hanging on to life by a thread. You shook your head and sighed, and then sighed again. “I would like to see what I’m working with.”
§§
Hades walked quickly, but her steps lacked urgency. She walked with her head held high without even knowing it, and her steps were so loud that it cleared every dark and bare hall that they echoed in. Her subjects held the image of her with respect, and you saw every single one of them at least bow their heads to her. She kept her eyes forward, never once looking back at you to check that you were following. She stepped into an elevator-like contraption and looked forward once you stepped in the space next to her, and looked at the buttons on it.
“This is… fancy.”
“Did you think there were stairs to every single level?” She asked, and you pursed your lips. “That’s a lot of walking.” Her finger hovered over a button, number two, and then you realized that you were on the middle ground, the third level. “You aren’t to go on any of the levels but the third by yourself, do you understand?”
You held back your scowl at being told what to do. “Why not?”
“The first level is the entrance to my kingdom. There are plenty of wailing souls and rivers that no living thing should ever see. It would give you quite the shock.” Your brows shot up. You didn’t expect for her to give you a reason, and maybe it was because your mother never really gave you any good ones. “The second level, which is where we’re going, is for the best of humanity. It’s full of honorable humans and demigods. That level is called Elysium.”
You knew of that level. Everyone who had swooned and fawned over Achilles made sure that Hades put him in Elysium after he died, where he would be with all of the other warriors and scholars. Even your mother favored the young man, but it wasn’t enough to get her to beg to Hades. You were starting to irrationally fear that nothing was going to be enough to get her to beg the woman, maybe not even you.
“The third layer is the Asphodel Meadows. There's not many things left that make it a meadow, but it’s for the typical human. It was designed for people who haven’t done wrong nor good, the ones who didn’t particularly make a mark on the world and those around them in a good or bad way.”
“I’d bet a few people I used to know are there now,” you said softly, and she looked over at you with a confused look on her face. You shrugged at her, thinking that she was judging your human friends for not doing any spectacular deeds in their short lifetimes. “My friends, I think they may be there now.”
“You make friends with humans?”
“I make friends with anyone and anything,” you said. “If they allow me to.”
She stared at you for a long moment, and then started to talk again before finally pressing the button. “The fourth level is nothing more than a thick layer between the third and the fifth, which is Tartarus. You know that.” You did. You knew that only the worst of people, and the Titans, resided there. Humans who killed for fun or did major harm went to Tartarus, the lowest level of the Underworld, and the most torturous. “Never attempt to go into the fifth level.”
You didn’t want to. No one wanted to see Tartarus with their own eyes, and hear what no doubt was screams and sounds of pain and anguish. It was a world full of punishment for horrific crimes, and it was no place for someone like you to be. She surely didn’t have to tell you twice.
“Where’s your dog?” You blurted, and she gave you a mildly annoyed look as she waited for you to elaborate. “You have a three-headed dog.”
She breathed in through her nose and rolled her eyes at you, but you were looking at her face closely enough to see that a small smile was threatening the corners of her mouth. “Cerberus is destructive. He guards the gates of the Underworld, which means you will probably never meet him.”
“Oh.” You couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing such an unusual and rumored to be humongous dog was enticing, but you didn’t want to see souls getting carted off while screaming, either. The doors opened, and she stepped put first, once again not even worrying about if you were following her. The second that you stepped out of the closure of the four walls, you were met with something that you never thought you would see in the Underworld.
There were remnants of colors all around, like there was once a beautiful set up that could have rivaled the above ground. You saw dead ivy crawling on walls of the cave-like walls, and you could feel the crunch of dead grass beneath your feet. Death was swirling all around you, and even though you felt sick, you couldn’t help but push that feeling aside for curiosity. You could almost picture everything in your mind. This place was without a doubt, once very alive.
“How did it use to be so alive?” You whispered, mostly talking to yourself as you forgot that the Goddess of the Underworld was standing feet from you, watching you take everything in. “It used to be gorgeous, I can feel it.” Your frown quirked upwards just a bit as you stepped forward and then went downwards again once you felt a familiar yet faint feeling, and once you touched a leaf with your pointer finger, you were slammed with it. “This… my mother did this.” Your head whipped towards Hades, who was watching you with a bored expression. “This is my mother’s work, that’s why it felt so familiar. She was here?”
“She’s the one who made this garden, young god.” When your face went slack, she smirked. “Not out of the kindness of her heart, I will admit. Steve made her.”
“Why?”
“Because even the dead deserve something beautiful to look at.” When you started to open your mouth, she held a delicate yet strong hand up, halting your lips from moving. “I know what the above grounders think about us. It’s called the afterlife for a reason, you know. These are people down here, regardless of whether you want to believe it or not. So, yes, they deserve something as simple as a meadow.”
You let her words sink in and echo softly against the walls as you stared at the dead plants, struggling to hold onto the last bits of your mother’s energy that still lingered. “Did they die because she left them?”
Hades frowned. “They died because she killed them.”
You shook your head adamantly, quickly denying her claim. “My mother doesn’t harm land. She never has, and she never would.”
“What makes you so sure that she’s not spiteful and hateful towards me that she wouldn't do that?”
“My mother-”
“Is a harsh woman. She is as punishing as she is gracious, and you know that. Your mother and I never liked each other, and it only got worse as the years went on.”
You knew that your mother’s hatred for the goddess before you ran deep. You doubted that it was deep enough for your mother to harm the earth, but you never knew. Hell, you never knew that your mother had ever even been to the Underworld. “I don’t think I’ll be able to revive what my own mother has destroyed,” you admitted. “She’s much stronger than me. If she really did kill it like you said she did, then I don’t think I’m powerful enough to reverse it.”
A staring competition happened right there between the two of you, her eyes the same calculated look as always and yours holding the one that pleaded for understanding, for release. “You’d better figure it out, flower girl. Preferably before your mother decides to wage a war for you.”
The goddess turned to walk away, and when you caught sight of her back, your lips opened before you could even stop them. “What’s your real name?”
She stopped in her tracks without turning around, but you saw the tension grow in her back. “Why?”
“I’m not going to call you by the name that the humans do,” you said, not even bothering to contain the scoff you wanted to give. “I try to call everyone by the names that they have given themselves.” That, and the name was meant to be scary. It was supposed to intimidate and incite fear into people, and you weren’t scared of her. She showed no side of herself that made you think that she was anything like your mother said she was.
She turned around slowly, her face expressionless and she looked you right in your eyes in a few moments of silence. “I renamed myself Natasha.”
Natasha. For a split second, you wondered where she got the name from. Did it come to her in a vision? Did she read it in a book somewhere? Did she take it from a human she admired? Did she even spend time admiring humans? “Then I will call you that.”
“You can call me whatever you want to,” she sighed out, turning on her heel again to stalk away from you.
“You didn’t even ask my name,” you called out, heart racing slightly at the idea of benign left alone in the Underworld, outside of the protection of the room that you had woken up in.
“I know enough about you to last me many lifetimes, Persephone.”
“I-it’s Y/N,” you muttered, but the doors to the elevator shut right on your words, and then you were left alone.
****
taglist: @teenwonder @saamwilscn @messuhp @username23345 @dontmindmejustreading @bitchuwish @blackxwidowsxwife @anxiousgoldengirl @russianredassassin @dailyavengering @blackluthxr @coxmicbabygirl @alytavzla sorry if i missed anyone!!! you can ask to be removed or added at any time!
#natasha romanoff x female reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha x female reader#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff fluff#lgbt marvel#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#my fics#natasha romanov x reader#hades!natasha x persephone!reader#hades!natasha#greek mythology au
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Close to you
(Gangster! Yoongi x Goodgirl! Reader) (Rags to Riches Au)
Summary: Nobody likes Yoongi, not your older brother or your friends. But with him, you feel more protected than possessed. And though he might be a gangster and more than a little dangerous himself- that makes all the difference. From drug dealer to producer, from rags to riches, you’re Yoongi’s person- his muse- his soulmate.
Tags: good girl x bad boy au, blood, drugs, Yoongi with tattoo's, references to making good ol’ sweet love, Rags to riches! au, brief mentions of drunk sex, Yoongi is soft and squishy and just loves the reader a lot.
A/n: This is more a story than a fic- with a little bit of an open ending to it- legit when I was editing this it tripled in length.
W/c: 9.8k
Song rec: Lover by Taylor Swift
You and Yoongi play basketball together, late at night in the park near your college. You don’t know how you started meeting up, but now you do nearly every day. You gather with the others at the edge of the court when the street lights turn on. Maybe it’s just to let off some steam from your busy college schedules, less than ideal lives, or just plain because you like the game.
It’s a mish-mash of different people from different backgrounds, misfits and goody-two-shoes alike, pros and newbies at different skill levels, but everyone is pretty good.
The games are never serious and no one really ever keeps score. The teams change depending on who tells what joke who gives what jibe. Lines are drawn in the minutes before you start, sides taken based off inside jokes and playful feuds.
One night when a regular named Wonho wears a crop top and calls it ‘fashion’- teams are drawn based on who thinks it’s ridiculous or not. (You and Yoongi are on the same team that night- because of course boys should be allowed to wear crop tops).
You’re always the last two to leave the court at night, sometimes just before the lights shut off at midnight, sometimes you have to hop the fence if the security guard has already come around to lock up. You joke that he might have a vendetta against your group- you always say until the very last moment the court closes and he grumbles about leaving early.
And on the nights where strangers lean in- when the streets don’t feel so safe and shadowy figures that seem recognizable at a distance linger longer than they should. When there’s another stabbing or a rumor of a girl getting taken off the street, Yoongi is the first to ask if you want him to walk you home.
You try reserving your impression until you know him better. But the tattoos on his arms and on his chest, peaking out over the low collar of his tanktops lead you to make conclusions that you’re not proud of.
Your first interactions with him are brief at best and you know just from how he looks that you should be careful around him. The others might play at being rugged and dangerous but Yoongi doesn't have to pretend.
You realize this when he stats to walk you home. No one messes with him, the other gangbangers on the street don’t catcall you when yoongi walks you home. Shop keepers seem to Nodd at him if they feel brave and close their doors the second they see him if they don’t.
Yoongi seems pretty abnormal for a typical gangbanger, He doesn't fit the trigger happy sadistic stereotype that the media paints others of his ilk in.
When he first asks to walk you home, You blush and let him because Yoongi is cute, charming even, and he’s nice company, even if he does look a little threatening sometimes.
You wouldn’t let him walk you home for any other reason then just...needing the safety he provides, not at first, not when your overprotective older brother doesn't let you date at all. You have a dating ban until you graduate college and as long as you sleep under his Roof.
He’d even tried to squash your interest in the pick-up basketball games when you first started going- but you needed an outlet, justified it by saying you weren't apart of any sports teams and needed to exercise. it isn’t safe on the streets so late at night, he says (and he’s not wrong- it isn’t.) he tries to get you to stay home each night or tries to guilt you into only playing on the weekends during the daytime.
But try as you might, every time he says it isn’t safe or brings up a carefully worded story by the news on the infestation of gangs in the city, you can’t help but picture Yoongi’s face. And maybe it isn’t safe for everyone. but the way he looks at you- guarded but curious and with a hint of mirth over the edge of a ball during a pass, makes you think that it’s safe for you.
You weren't exactly sheltered here, in your nice apartment on the edge of where town turns from seedy to bougie. You straddle the edge of gentrification Unable to fit in perfectly with either side. You’ve already had to move your apartment twice since you moved in with him after rent hikes and new policies made your past apartments just too expensive.
The first time your brother catches sight of Yoongi, on the stoop of your apartment building just as your brother gets home from work- perfectly mistimed, he goes apeshit when he realizes that Yoongi’s just dropped you off. Your older brother takes one look at him and says that you shouldn’t date gangsters- that Yoongi will just bring your trouble one day.
“Jesus Christ- he was just walking me home it's not like it's a big deal” and you remind him that you’re not dating- that you’re just friends and Yoongi is just being nice- and that your brother should be glad you have friends that want you to get home safe.
He tries to keep you from going out the next night and threatens you with few words not to keep seeing him. You’re late to the game because of it sucking off your pink sweatshirt and growling out that you need to work off some steam. “join my team” Yoongi says, making the others pause with a wave of his hands.
They reach for water bottles while you get your shoes on, Yoongi tucks the ball under his arm and stands while you finish lacing up your shoes. “you good?” he asks, “yeah just my brother being a dick and making me late.”
You know he says it’s all for you so that you’ll do well and school and get a good job later in life and have it easy, unlike either or your parents. but sometimes it feels like he just wants to control you needlessly. Yoongi nods and you see something- the mention of older brothers darken his gaze, you wonder why. “He pitch a fit after he saw me last night?”
“Oh you know it,” you say with false positivity. “But don’t worry you can still like- walk me home if you want, I liked talking to you yesterday,” you say, Shooting him a smile that makes his cheeks turn a little pink, he clears his throat “if it makes you feel safer of course” He reassures, ever the gentleman, and goes to shoot some free throws while you finish getting settled.
The blush doesn't fall really, especially when you meet his eyes over a pass a few seconds into the pell-mell start of the game. And you start to think that Yoongi with his tattoo’s and his roguish exterior might be the perfect amount of rebellion to get out from underneath your brother's thumb
Of course, Yoongi ends up being a lot more than that.
When you walk home together you talk about everything, sometimes stopping to get some food from a street stall, or passing a bottle of soju back and forth if it's a Saturday or a Melona ice pop if it's hot enough. you learn a surprising amount about him- you had no idea that Yoongi attended the same college as you, though he’s a few years older than you, in the year above, and only part-time because of his ‘job’.
He says this kind of cryptically he’s never come out and said what he does for a living to you before but you know, even if he doesn't say so at first. there have been times where other people pause at the gate to the court and gesture for Yoongi and you can see little packets of things being handed off, or he has to leave early. A curly red-haired guy that pops up often enough to drag Yoongi away who is equally as tattooed and threatening.
but whatever these mysterious people are, you know it’s secondary to Yoongi. after all one of the first conversations you ever have with him on the way home is about music. He confides in you and tells you of his big dreams of being a music producer one day after you urge him. He already knows your dreams of being a screenwriter- and the struggles you’ve had balancing your dream with your family.
Thought you both definitely went different directions with that, you just decided to double major in something more ‘practical’ in your brother's words, whereas Yoongi left home. “I’m gonna make it one day- I just know it, it’s the only thing I've ever wanted.”
And really anyone else would tell him that he’s stupid for having high hopes- his parents and older brother did after all- and he hasn’t talked to them in years after they disowned him for following his dream. But you just smile at him and tell him, “I believe you can do anything if you work hard enough for it.” Yoongi hides his blush by pulling up his hoodie.
Yoongi is a gangster of course, but the drugs he sells to put himself through college aren’t anything dangerous, even if he and his corner partner Hoseok, end up running from the police or another gang most nights and has been shot at twice in the last year. Hoseok has a scar from that night just above his shoulder- barely a graze.
People come and go for the nightly basketball games, but somehow- you and Yoongi are always the ones who linger the longest no matter how cold it is. If someone cared to ask, you might say you’re Already half in love with each other from ever smirk thrown over a shoulder during a game. Every “good shot” when you make a three-pointer sends you spiraling further down.
What started out as an easy way to piss your brother off, has turned into the kind of friendship that you would swear on. The day you roll your ankle Yoongi won’t take no for an answer and gives you a piggyback ride home.
“You need to eat any more this is hardly even a work out,” he teases, bending down so that you can reach the button for the streetlight. “You tip your nose against the nape of his neck and inhale a deep breath, he smells nice, he has the kind of scent that you could just wrap yourself in and cozy down. The action makes pleasant shivers erupt down Yoongi’s spine. The weight of you so gladly held that he almost misses it when he was to let you off. And he makes you promise to wrap it as soon as you get up the stairs.
The next day, the pink bandage sticks out from over your ankle socks and you bring Yoongi a brown paper bag from the fried food stall on the street. Smiling as you hand it over, “as a thank you” you justify, teasing him for his blush that starts up when he realizes you’ve remembered his favorites.
Yoongi’s secret is that he might be in a gang, but he’s also fucking soft as shit. He loves dramas and romance movies and he has a sonnet of Shakespeare tattooed under his arm and carefully stylized roses above his heart. Yoongi is a total hopeless romantic. He loves everything to do with romance. Even if all of the people he’s ever loved have broken his heart.
He doesn't sleep around a lot, doesn't let himself get close to people that often because people leave so much more often than they stay. And it’s almost like you’ve always been able to see through him- those times that you’ve talked about the dramas you both happen to like on the walk home,
And he lets you talk as much as you want about the different minute details of the dialogue and the stage directions, asks you why you like a certain love story or don’t and leans in- and you can tell he actually cares what you like and enjoy, is actually listening to you.
The same care that you return, when you share one of Yoongi’s shitty earbuds and listen to all of Yoongi’s favorite love songs. And steal the napkins he writes sappy lyrics on when you go out for hot chocolate after the game. The care that you show when you pretend that you don’t know that most of the lines of simple prose he writes are about you.
The first time you snag one and keep it away from him, you catch a look at the line of lyrics and find them- startlingly tender and honest. it’s hard to believe that walking you home is my favorite time of day when at the end of it I have to say goodbye to you, my secret is that I never want too.
You’re so shocked that he snags it out of your hand easily and he shoves the napkin in deep in his pocket. But the damage is done, you're wide-eyed and looking, his face bright red, cheeks round as he nibbles on his lower lip and shyly looks away, “don’t- don’t like- freak out or anything I just like writing about you is all- it’s not like, a big deal or anything.”
But the next day, you just smile up at him, wiping away the sweat at your temples proffering “walk me home?” like you have no idea what it means to him. So easily giving him the quiet acceptance of a part of him that he doesn't show anyone.
You goofily get too close when you guard him sometimes tackling and holding around his neck or wrap your arms around his waist during the warm-up games you play sometimes, giggling at his shout of “yah-”. When you manage to steal the ball from him- your specialty- you might not be able to make every three-pointer but you can always get the ball away from him or any of the others. Yoongi doesn't get angry or too competitive, just shakes his head and smiles.
You rarely ever see Yoongi around campus, even less rarely interact with him, though he will return your wave when you give him one. You see him one day when you’re walking between classes with one of your friends, Jaebaum who was your lab partner for chemistry last semester but had become your friend after joint commiseration over how terrible chemistry was.
“How do you know that guy?” the accusation is low and a little startled, his eyebrows pulling together into a glare that makes your hand fall from your wave. “We both go to the same pickup basketball games, why?”
Jaebaums jaw tightens as he looks back, but Yoongi’s already disappeared into the music building. “that guy deals drugs for half the sororities and fraternities at this school- just surprised me is all, I didn’t think that you would know him. You said you play basketball with him?”
You tell him more about them- not that you’ve ever hidden your secret. And he pushes until you agree to let him come with you. Maybe he’s just curious, but you’re just trying to be nice is all- Jaebaum is a friend even if his overprotective friend thing gets a little annoying.
You swear- what is it with guys and trying to protect you, Yoongi is the only one whose never made you feel inferior for it.
You’ve never brought someone to the games before but others have in the past, and Jaebum is introduced with little fanfare, though Yoongi goes eye him over the edge of a basketball and raise an eyebrow in your direction, you can hear his voice “really?”
maybe the night would have gone better if Jaebaum didn’t literally check Yoongi onto the concrete halfway through the game. The other players literally stop to a standstill, because no one is ever that aggressive. The ball bounces away unattended as Yoongi is quick to get up and shove Jaebaum back.
You’re quick to step between the two of them a hand on either of their chests as Yoongi growls out “what the fuck is your problem?” Even if Jaebaum is a bit taller, Yoongi doesn’t back down. Of course, the second Yoongi makes eye contact with you he backs off, though you do see his jaw roll in annoyance. And that’s more than you can say for Jaebaum, Who takes a few more words before he gets back to the game.
He lingers when the game finishes and usually, you’d stay for another, but no one else seems to be in the mood for it. You and Yoongi still pass a ball back and forth and Yoongi shoots a jab his way when pauses by the chainlink gate.
“Get lost asshole- and just for the record, acting all high and mighty around me doesn’t change the fact that your frat buys coke from me on the weekends and I know for a fact one of you brothers was looking for GHB last week,” Yoongi is merciless though putting all their dirty drug habits that he is only too privy too as their dealer out in the open.
Jaebum pales as you send him a shocked glance because you really didn’t know his fraternity did shit like that. GHB is like- serious stuff, and its reputation isn’t great. And fuck- Jaebaums even invited you to parties at his fraternity, who knows what was in the drinks of those other girls.
A glance at him tells you that Jaebaum really had no idea what his fraternity brothers were getting up to in their spare time but the damage is already done. Jaebaum turns to you pleading “Y/n please believe me- I didn’t know they where-”
“Jae” you cut him off, suddenly more shakey than you’d like, “I think you should go,” he doesn’t listen stepping closer, “Nah come on- let me take you home,” he pleads palms open.
Before he can get close Yoongi steps Infront of you subtly keeping a hand on your arm to reassure you. “I’ll walk her home- don’t worry Jae,” he adds mockingly. “She’s safer with me anyway.”
You and Yoongi pass a ball back and forth, the last to leave as usual after that but he’s unusually silent. Until the streets go quiet and he finally lets his feelings spill onto the asphalt. “Wow, you really know how to pick them huh,”
You check the ball back to him, a little harder than Nessicary “You know that’s what my brother said about you when he first met you right?”
“What?” Yoongi dribbles the ball as he shakes his head, you can see him actually getting angry as he makes a three-pointer and misses by a longshot, you catch the rebound and pass it back. “your brother doesn't even know me- not really.”
“I know that Yoongi and believe me- I never would have let him come if I knew he was gonna like” you trail off, struggling to find the right words. Yoongi concentrates enough to make the shot finally and takes a step back to see if he can make the next one. You return the rebound again.
“If you knew he was gonna try to intimidate me? Try to stake a claim on you or something like you’re a fucking thing when you’re-” Yoongi breaks off, swallowing back his anger and shaking his head like he’s ridding himself of his fury, even though you can see it boiling in his dark eyes when he turns them on you.
“Don’t you know how frat boys treat pretty girls? or where you just naive enough to think that one could be different when they all silently allow their brothers to do what they want,”
You pass it back hard, and it hits Yoongi’s chest hard. stinging a little- “Don’t you dare call me nieve Yoongi, not when you’re being hypocritical as fuck” you argue- you know Yoongi isn’t really meaning to be mean, not at all.
And Yoongi just- givens a particularly hard pass to you the same way you just did to him and your arms don’t come up quick enough and it hits your face. It’s not the first time that you’ve ever been hit in the face by a basketball, you’ve had your fair share of bloody noses. And anyone who plays knows the particular not-quite-painfull- stinging sensation that makes shocked tears spark in your eyes.
Yoongi immediately rushes over to hold your head and apologize profusely and he Dabbs at your nose to get rid of the little bit of blood that's dripping out of your nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Apologize tumbling out of his lips,
“Oh my god I’m so so sorry- please believe I didn’t mean to- fuck- I'm sorry” and you’re not angry- you know he didn’t mean it at all- that it was an accident you just weren't paying attention. And Yoongi is panicked looking down at you and cradling your face in his hands, brushing your baby hairs back away from your face and it’s not even really like that bad or hurts or everything, your face is just mostly numb.
You can't help it- you start laughing, and he looks down at you wide-eyed “oh my god you should have seen your face- you look like you just accidentally stepped on a pets tail or something- holy fuck Yoongi I'm fine-”
But then Yoongi leans in, his forehead against yours in the lit basketball court, closing his eyes and looking like he hates himself for hurting you even a little bit- even accidentally. He looks so upset with himself and that he’s hurt you. For all of your close moments, your almost relationship-esce tender moments you and Yoongi aren’t so physically close so often. Even though your laughing, he sighs all the tension going out of him. “not my fault you follow me around like a puppy or something- you're just so- you’ve got this-” he makes a frustrated noise, “god you’ve always got me so tongue-tied”
And you still for a moment, standing in the middle of the court, a little blush paints his cheeks as he realizes how close you are.
On the basketball court, with your nose bleeding and Yoongi looking at you with all that love he’s hidden on display, you realize that there shouldn’t be anything stopping you from nurturing that affection that he’s so blatantly showing right now, that he always does whether you acknowledge it or not.
And maybe he’s always shown you that, maybe it was always there in the way he walked you home, the way he checks to see that you’re alright whenever you take an elbow or fall during a game.
Tender and protective almost like Yoongi is your bodyguard or something. But unlike others, Yoongi knows you can handle yourself and he’s only there so you don't have to deal with it alone. He might be protective, but he’s never claimed ownership of you like others have.
For a moment the lights flicker and go out plunging the two of you into muted darkness, especially here, where the streetlights barely bleed. It’s not an unusual occurrence, the court is kind of old and shitty and it’s probably just the security guard being passive-aggressive to you and try to get you to leave early again.
In the darkness you tilt your head forward and kiss him, your lips slotting together. After he manages to overcome his shock his hand fists in your hair underneath the hood of your hoodie. His tongue briefly licks out to paint heat into your chest that blooms like the roses on his. Before you pull away and Yoongi’s so breathless from just the taste of you.
And then the lights come back on and he’s just shocked standing there while you take the ball and try to make the shot Yoongi couldn’t make failing at first because your hands are shaking a little.
Yoongi runs his hand over his face and through his hair and tries to stop himself from grinning and quiet the rapid pounding of his heart. You shoot a three-pointer and make it- “holy shit Y/n you-”
“You don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to other guys Yoongi” and he’s just standing there blushy and quiet. “if that's what that thing with Jaebaum was about,” you pass the ball back to him, and he huffs.
“It was more about him treating you like a possession but okay- fixate on that I guess,” you don’t buy his ire at all.
He walks you home and kisses you again on your stoop and quickly pulls the closure of your hoodie over your face and runs away. “You punk Yoongi!” you shout at him, waking up the neighbors- but he doesn’t care, his heart feels too light to be bogged down by anything like disapproving outsiders.
later that night when they’re selling on the street corner, Hoseok levels Yoongi’s never falling smile with a raised eyebrow “what’s got you so happy tonight?” and Yoongi just tilts his head back against the brick building and smiles at the sky, unable to keep it off his mouth now.
“Nothing man, nothing at all” and of course that's a lie- Yoongi’s whole body is light with how much of something this is, his thoughts tripping over with little snippets of you. God, he feels like a little kid, excited to see their crush the next day at school.
You only kiss when the lights go out, in the shadows of alleyways, hands ghosting over places too intimate for public and for even the street lights. safe in the darkness where no one can see either of you and you can just be Yoongi and Y/n. The city melts away along with all of its problems and leaving both of you alone.
You only kiss when he walks you home, or when you sneak him into your bedroom on the colder nights through the front door or up the fire escape. And he’ll press you into the sheets of your bed, his bare arms, and the black ink on his chest and his inky hair contrasting with the white sheets of your bed, and he touches you so softly, every second building to linger, to cherish, to love.
You only kiss him when he surprises you, like the night after he goes out to dinner with your older brother to try and impress him. Yoongi’s white button-down barely hides all his tattoo’s but he does take all the piercings out of his ears. To both of your surprise, he manages to not make a horrible impression and actually earn your brothers approval (but only a little).
He only kisses you when you steal his leather jacket- pulling you close by the lapels, or when you steal his thrasher hoodie and he doesn't even realize you have it until he sees you walking around campus with it on, and pulls you into the deserted bathroom on the third floor of the science building because for a quick make-out session.
Who knows maybe Min Yoongi really likes kissing you, maybe he just really really likes you too, maybe when you text at night Min Yoongi finds himself burying his smile into his pillow, texting you back, “goodnight sweetheart, can’t wait to see you tomorrow,”
For your first date, he takes you out to dinner and then to a bar that closes early but has a legit ball pit. Complete with disco balls, a bunch of fancy setups and Instagramable pastel pink floral walls, and serves it’s sangria in glass teapots.
It’s pricer than usual bars, but it’s worth it- to get giggly and tipsy with you and bother the other patrons by starting a war throwing the clear plastic balls that look like bubbles back and forth. You use an inflatable heart- complete with bright silver glitter to block his attack and tackle him into the pit, shocking a giggle out of his chest that seems to shimmer into the open air.
And he takes a photo of you laughing below him when he heaves you up and into a pile, giggling brightly too. You snap a photo of him too and he looks all harsh and grungy against the pastel background, lounged out like a jungle cat in his black ripped jeans and black teeshirt. his darkness juxtapositioned with all of the pink.
You end up printing out the photo and hanging it up by your mirror in your bathroom where you eventually hang little tickets from late-night rap shows that Yoongi takes you too- or the tickets for the free day at the local zoo and a few romcoms. Little memories of your times together that you can wake up and see, and keep a piece of him close that way.
He prints out your photo too and keeps it in his wallet. He doesn't take it out and look at it often, but sometimes when he knows you’re asleep and he’s still out on the chilly street, the fingerless gloves you got him for his birthday warming his hands. He’ll finger the edge of his wallet and the edge of the photo that sticks out a little, and smile to himself- imagining that you’re wrapped up warm in your bed, maybe curling up in one of his shirts that he’d lent you- you always say you sleep better in them.
And he thinks about maybe sneaking up to the fire escape that leads to your window when he’s done for the night, tapping out a hello on your window until you wake and let him into your warm embrace. Quiet and taking his shoes off by the window so that his heavy steps don’t alert your older brother in the room over.
And maybe he could cuddle you a little before class, relax into your arms for a few hours. The lack of sleep would be hell to pay for later- and really, Yoongi also has papers due and assignments to complete not to mention exams to study for that need his time if he wants to even think about graduating anytime soon or keeping his scholarship until then. But he indulges in the idea of it, all the same, closing his eyes and imagining it just for a minute when he feels that photo, letting his memory’s drift back to your first date.
Sometimes on the really cold evenings, you’ll take the train home instead of walking- even though it gives you less time than you usually have. you grab the last train home and sit close. He taps out a pattern on the back of your hand, your skin unmarked unlike his. Each of his knuckles is marked by a symbol for a royal flush.
A ten of clovers on his thumb, a jack of diamonds on his index, then a queen of spades, king of hearts, then the ace of spades on his pinky. The tattoos are newer, you’re pretty sure Yoongi didn’t have them when you first met.
“How do you have so many tattoo’s?” you ask, you know by now that Yoongi only deals drugs to pay his many bills that aren’t covered by his scholarship. Because he has too to survive and not because he particularly likes being apart of a gang. His copious amount of inc seems like too an expensive habit for him to keep if he’s paying for it out of pocket. Yoongi watches you trace over the marks on his knuckles.
“There’s this tattoo artist across town, he’s pretty good makes a half-decent living or would if his boyfriend didn’t have this like- rare disease or something. I’ve never really asked or looked it up- but anyway, their insurance doesn't cover it and it would be like thousands of dollars a month retail. But I get them a couple months supply at a time for like a quarter of that- and as long as I deliver it to them every few months, Namjoon lets me sit in his chair after hours as a thank you.”
“Didn’t realize you-” “dealt in medical stuff as well?” Yoongi asks, raising an eyebrow, not judgementally but really, anything there is a market for Yoongi’s employers have him sell. but you don’t talk about Yoongi’s drug dealing. the less you know about the gang the safer you are. You nod, and Yoongi sits back, pulling you a little closer, your stop is nearing, and he knows that he’s going to have to say goodbye to you soon after that.
“The first time I met him it was like- not great. He was so panicked didn’t look at all the type to be buying drugs either. But he stuck around and kept asking if I could get it until I could, and then I started delivering it to his place instead of having him come to me and like, you know how dangerous it is and like walking around with that amount of cash. It isn’t something you do if you’re smart or unprotected. And I think he just started giving me free ink because I cared enough to drop it off instead of having him come to me.”
You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek- “Min Yoongi- friendly neighborhood drug dealer- who would have thought you’d be so kind,” Yoongi tilts away at your teasing because really, by now you know just how gummy soft Yoongi is and how true the statement is.
He’s always checking in, and he’s kind of the older brother of sorts even to the others at the basketball court, always the first one to playfully shove the gangly limbed kid named Jungkook who's hung around the courts since forever (and has only recently sprouted up taller than him).
Or he’ll ask you and Jungkook’s grubby thin friend Taehyung (that sometimes comes to games sporting black eyes and leans into Jungkook like he’s the only thing keeping him up) if either of you wants something from the 7/11 across the street.
He’s always soft to some of the younger high school kids that come by and play. The ones that obviously don’t have good role models at home. And you know by the way Yoongi sometimes gets self-critical that he doesn't think of himself as a good role model by any means- but he is a good person.
The streets might have made him rough around the edges and fierce by necessity, but Min Yoongi has never and will never lose his kindness.
And maybe that's why you love him, why you feel so safe with him, why you smile every time you see him and why your heart beats quick whenever he looks at you like you’re the only people in the room. You know deep in your bones that Min Yoongi might not look it on the outside, that he carries the weight of what he does like a bulletproof vest and has more than a little baggage, but he’s a good man.
The first night he takes you back to his apartment he’s a little shy about it because he knows it’s basically a closet. It’s in the bad part of town too, but it’s mostly clean and at least it doesn't smell too much like mold. There's only a single wall separating the kitchen from the half room where his single bed is tucked. But he does have nice windows, they’re the only thing that drew him to the apartment, a good view of some neon lights across the street and a full glass tilted roof where it used to be a covered balcony.
The producing equipment that he’d saved up for and his school things pushed and piled on the desk in the opposite wall. his stacks and stacks of notebooks full of poetry turned lyrics that maybe he’ll never put a song to. You could probably reach them from the bed if you stretched out really far. Along with a keyboard that he’d won after he’d beat a DJ in a game of pool. His clothes sit in bins underneath his bed that he shoves and pulls his blanket over to try and hide the drabness of it.
But you don’t judge at all, you don’t mark on the frayed edge of Yoongi’s duvet, or on the dust gathering on the sill of the windows. Or the bars that block the view. You smile at the band posters on the wall and the movie poster by his bathroom and giggle when he turns on the colorful Christmas lights he’s strung up over his bed and he asks why you’re smiling.
“This room is so you Yoongi- like I don’t even know how to explain it but it’s like I just walked into you- you know?” Yoongi does know, and his chest warms with the thought of this, this place is his home and only his safe haven (besides the court). It’s the representation of his everything. Maybe a little grey, a little worn around the edges but still comfortable, still warm.
You just stand there and look out the windows at the street corner below while Yoongi boils some milk for hot chocolate. And when it’s set he holds around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder, swaying slightly to the music that always lives in him while you look out the window, quiet and contemplative.
“I know it’s not much but you could move in if you want after we graduate- or maybe get a bigger apartment together and pool our resources for something nicer- if you want too.” you’ve been together for about a year now- even if the beginning of your relationship was a little more loosely bound.
“Really you’d want me to live with you?” Yoongi shrugs and blushes and you kiss his cheek sweetly making him flush a darker red. And Unlike how he would if he was with anyone else, he doesn't turn away or try to hide how he looks at you, so wanting and soft, almost hopeful.
He leans his cheek against your head and sways a little, tasting the lyrics and the beat on his tongue he would write about this moment- maybe they’re nothing- maybe there shitting and sentimental- I showed you the drabby parts of me and you told me it was enough, we felt our love with simple feelings, simple people all the same, and I know I’ll love you forever if only you would stay.
“Of course I want you to move in sweetheart.”
You start to sleep over some nights- the nights when your brother has to go on trips for work or it gets too late for you to walk back. Yoongi doesn't live in the safest area and he never lets you walk home alone, but he does try to limit your exposure to his world. The drug dealers on the corners giving him nod as he passes, but he does catch them looking at you- their stares confused and lingering.
It makes Yoongi worried. He starts picking you up from class too just in case.
You still play basketball late at night, and sometimes, when your both sit on the sidelines, you trace his tattoos and he tugs at your ponytail out and at the end of the night so that your hair falls around your face, Yoongi always walks you home. And maybe you steal his hoodie every night so that you can sleep surrounded by the smell of him.
But then, a few weeks after he finally graduates (you take him out to dinner to celebrate and get him the very very nice gift of soundproof headphones since he was still using the shitty earbuds that came with his phone) Yoongi doesn’t come to basketball.
Thoughts who know him well linger about for a few minutes after you’d usually start, but he doesn't show. You’re distracted the whole time, casting a glance to the gate to see if he’ll appear there, checking your phone when you take breaks until you give in and text him.
He doesn’t answer his texts when you send him one or pick up your phone when you call. And you’re starting to get worried when you walk home. Of course, you know what Yoongi’s had to pick up more “hours” whatever that means in the wake of his graduation and therefore the expiration of his scholarship.
You’ve thought about the possibility of him being arrested before, waking up in a cold sweat thinking about it. You try not to let Yoongi know how much it stresses you out. Your brother has told you more than once, “He’s going to get himself killed one day” or “he’s going to break your heart.”
but you always reply, “You don’t know him at all, he’s not like that, and he’s safe when he’s out- he’s always cautious,”
You walk the whole way home peering down every alleyway and knawing on your lip in worry. Wondering if maybe you should stop by his apartment and see if he’s there- after you drop off your books of course. Only to find Yoongi sitting on the stoop to your apartment building. He gets up with a pained groan when he sees you, knees cracking, his shattered phone dark and left on the stoop next to him. You drop your bag when Yoongi looks up and you catch a glimpse of his face underneath his hoody. Your school things spilling onto the sidewalk
“I swear I’m fine- It’s only cuz I was outnumbered that they got me so bad, my nose isn’t even broken.” he’s sitting on the toilet with you in between his legs dabbing at his split lip while he holds a bag of peas to his black eye and alternates laying on it his bruised collar bone. You’d been mostly silent since you saw him, but- when you see how gingerly he’s holding his battered body. And suddenly you’re crying, barely containing your sobs as they spill over your lips and you drink in him, thinking about the possibility of him landing himself in the hospital or an early grave.
Yoongi wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, burying his face in his sweatshirt you’re wearing. It smells like a piece of you and a piece of him. “I’m okay baby girl really, please don’t cry over me” you smoothing your shaking hands up and through his hair. You pull away from him a little. It breaks Yoongi’s heart to see you crying because of him.
“I can’t do this Yoongi, I’m always be worried if you’re going to be beaten up or arrested or shot at, I can’t be with you if I don’t know you’re safe.”
He swallows, blinking through his own tears- but really the choice he makes is instinctual- he would never even think of doing anything else. “What if I quit then, what if I stopped and found another job somewhere else- somewhere safer.”
You pull away looking at his face, seeing his brutal honesty the truth there. Yoongi has never been one to lie to you so if he’s saying it- he means it. “I’m serious about you, about us, I-” neither of you have dropped the L-word yet and all of a sudden Yoongi’s throat feels like he’s closing up because he’s never loved anyone who hasn’t left. But you’re worth it- you're worth the risk of shattering his heart.
“I love you so much, and I want to be with you, and if this- this is your deal-breaker, then I’ll stop.” You nod, and Yoongi reaches up to wipe away your tears with both of his thumbs. His hands rough from basketball, and the little scrapes on his palms, but still comforting in the way you can feel his intention in every touch. And leans his forehead against yours, you stretch your hand back to shut off the lights and kiss him in the darkness.
You’re glad your brother is saying late for work and leaving early because you can pull Yoongi through your dark apartment and into your room as long as you’re quiet. You kiss every bruise on his body from his cheekbone to his bruised knuckles, sitting over his lap in just a large white t-shirt. Your bareness pressed all to him and Yoongi touches you gently like he would a treasure.
Yoongi makes love to you and every stuttering movement of his hips is a swan song to anyone else he might love- because you’re it for him. His gentle hands smooth over your hips as you lose yourself among the covers, and his careful but firm touches.
He lets himself taste your skin, and luxuriate in the softness plucked delicately between his lips like the strings of an instrument, to suck your blood to the surface in a melody of red and pink. Gentle and slow and lingering like he’s letting you know that there is no rush for this like he’s staying like he’ll do anything you ask. He wants to be with you until you don’t want him anymore.
And you let him know you’ll always want him with every sigh, every bitten back moan of his name, and every scratch down his back that you want to mark him and keep him as yours as well. You let him know you’ll stay with every kiss from your red mouth a brand, and every sigh and keen a promise for the endless time left. You’re marked as well- even if he can’t see it you’re his and he’s yours, as sure and as permanent as the tattoo’s on his skin.
Yoongi cleans up his act. Talks to the gang and they let him quit as long as he agrees to still occasionally sell at college parties- and it’s enough for you. You move into Yoongi’s apartment much to the ire of your older brother, the semester after he graduates and a semester before you do.
And though it might be small it becomes your place, the place where your love takes full form and is stitched into every inch. You get a few plants and hang them by the windows and a small two-person table set into the wall where you have your meals together- Yoongi teaches you how to cook in your pajamas, a freshly-minted pop song crackly from the old Bluetooth speaker. You hang hooks for your coffee mugs underneath the cabinets to save some space.
Yoongi hasn’t had a family in years, his own parents and older brother disowned him when he left for Seoul to try his hand at music, and he only occasionally speaks to his brother on his birthday or Christmas.
He’s only been able to go to college and get a degree because of his own pure stubbornness and having good enough grades in high school and on the entrance exam to get a scholarship.
He’s only had himself to rely on for the last few years, and that changes almost overnight. He starts to build a family with you there, even if it’s just the two of you, you still are a family.
You’re the first person he sees when he wakes up in the morning, nestled into his chest all soft and delicate. You’re the first person he calls when he gets any sort of good news. The person he surprises with bulgogi on Friday afternoons just because.
At your graduation, Yoongi shouts and cheers you on, louder than any parent would, your brother laughing next to him. He may not approve of Yoongi entirely- but he respects Yoongi for how much he cares about you and how much he tries. Though the approval there might be tenuous, Yoongi makes it clear that he isn’t going anywhere.
You don’t mind the small bed in his apartment because you know you’d end up lying that close anyway. The large duvet spilling onto the floor as you curl up underneath it and pretend that you’re two bears in hibernation, chests and bones aligned all perfectly and comfortably, everything else outside of your little cave dangerous and frightening but it’s quiet and safe in each other's arms.
He gets you special tickets to a behind the scenes tour of a new drama that's coming out as your graduation present. And he holds your hand the entire tour, drinking in your wide-eyed enthusiasm the same way you do when you hear his music.
He gets a less dangerous job as a bartender at a club that the gang owns (because they’re still his friends even if they’re less close and see each other a little less. It’s not ideal but he’ll take what he can get until he manages to find a job where he can use his degree).
You finally meet Hoseok just after Christmas when Yoongi lets it slip that he doesn't have anyone to spend the new year with. And though he might be surprisingly upbeat there is the same darkness there that you recognize from when you met Yoongi, The kind that has little faith in the world but a whole lot of hope for change.
And Yoongi really thinks it's sweet- you treat Hoseok like you might a little brother even though he’s older than you by a few years. You make an effort to invite Hoseok out for dinner more often, and when Yoongi asks you say, “He seems a little too skinny, like no one’s taking care of him.”
Eventually, you convince him to stop dealing drugs as well, and Yoongi gets him a job working as a bartender soon after he gets the hang of it himself. And Yoongi spends most nights cleaning glasses with Hoseok endlessly flirting with any pretty girl who walks in the door. And Hoseok just laughs any time they try to flirt with Yoongi- because yeah he has someone waiting for him at home.
And then one random Tuesday he’s making jokes with a guy at the bar in an expensive suit jacket, and he realizes fate might just have it out for him- in a very good way.
It’s kind of his job to chat with the patrons when it’s not a DJ night. The booth in the corner sits and taunts Yoongi with the promise of someday- and Yoongi swears to himself that he will work his way into that booth one day, with sheer stubbornness and hard work.
He’s just joking around and kind of making fun of the guy when he gets on the topic of music and Yoongi says “You’re joking if you think that's a good song the kicks all wrong and the chorus has a wonky beat that just doesn't fit.”
The guy laughs and looks at Yoongi with sharp appraising eyes and says “I’m the one that produced that song boy” and then laughs some more when Yoongi freezes, flushing hard and stuttering out an apology. And holy fuck- this guy is basically what Yoongi’s dreamed of being since he was a teenager and first discovered his love for Music they talk more about it, and Yoongi tries not to be excited or drop his mixed tape or anything- he plays it cool as he can.
The next night he brings Yoongi the raw track on a drive and says, “I want to see how you’d alter it- try and impress me.” and Yoongi does, works on it day and night for a few weeks.
And you let him- come and stand by his desk and give him coffee when you get up to go to work just after he gets back (you’re only in between grad school and college now- but you’re working to save up money so that you don’t have to take out so many loans) and when you get back from your shift at a coffee shot you find him still hunched over his computer dead asleep, and sleepily tug him into bed for a few more hours sleep.
Yoongi hands over the finished track the next time he see’s the producer at the bar and he calls Yoongi the next day and offers him an internship. Yoongi thanks him for the opportunity profusely and promises him that he won’t disappoint. And when he gets off the phone he calls you- bugs you until you pick up and when you get home you jump and scream and dance around his small apartment. You both go to the convenience store and get a bottle of cheap wine and some melon ice pops and stay up after his shift to watch the sunrise.
And Yoongi can’t help but think that if you had never made him quit his job dealing drugs if he never started playing pick up games and met you- he never would have gotten the job and the bar and now he wouldn’t be here, on the precipice of everything he’d ever dreamed of.
well almost everything, because when he looks over at you, tipsy sitting against the window with a pillow under your butt grinning and tipping your shoulder sweetly into his- he thinks that being a producer is only half of what he wanted.
You make love on the floor of your bedroom- even though there’s the bed right next to you because your love is the kind that need not be confined to a single place (in Yoongi’s flowery words) even if he’s the one that ends up with rug burn on his knees later.
There are other conversations that happen in front of those windows, with kisses pressed to your lips in total darkness if it weren't for the neon lights. “do you think we should move?” “give it a few more weeks love,” he says, pressed between a kiss on your shoulder.
“you’ve been hired for over a year Yoongi- they’re gonna give you your own solo project any day now,” you snort. “is it weird that I can’t help but worry I'll be fired or something?” he holds onto you tighter.
You sooth him with a hand down his arm, your words velvet soft in the darkness, “no not at all- it’s just that the studio complained that a line of your sheet music got slipped into my rough draft last week, and maybe things like that wouldn't happen if we didn’t share the same desk.” a laugh shocks out of him “fuck we need a larger place.”
And then months later, when you’re thinking about moving, and Yoongi has his heart set on this one bedroom with small office space and a killer view over the river- expensive but still kinda tight. And you can’t help but think...you might need more than one room at one point in the future.
“did you ever think about having kids?” you ask, nervously drumming your fingers on the counter his hair curling against the nape of his neck. He’s been growing it longer recently, no longer does he get it done in the jagged undercut that he used to.
His sleep shirt is one of his old ones, no matter how big his paycheck has gotten Yoongi will always sleep in his threadbare basketball shorts and a washed-out tee. It’s almost like when he falls asleep he goes back to that same boy you first met years ago. With too many tattoos and not enough hope that his dreams would ever come true.
His eyes go wide over his cup of coffee, and he sets it down before he even takes a sip, mulling over your question for a moment before he answers “Only with you, why?”
Years later, after your screenplay gets picked up by a popular channel. when you’ve long left behind your tiny box of an apartment and traded in for an upgraded space closer to where both of you work. Yoongi is nominated (and wins) an award for a song he produced for an idol group.
You accompany him to an award show with his same tattooed arms around your waits, though the ink has faded a little bit. He still goes back to the same shop he used to though he pays now that he has enough money. Yoongi has even steered enough people (rappers and other producers) towards the shop that the tattoo artist can charge more and actually afford legitimate prescriptions no longer has to live through shady backroom deals.
A few more tattoos have been added, the first line of the first song he ever produced that made into onto an album, a little lightbulb for you, and more roses added to his chest. Lacing their way up his neck ending just below the date inked onto his neck- your anniversary.
And when he’s asked about you by reporters he introduces you as his muse. There is no small amount of fanfare for a well-known music producer and a screenwriter that's recently gained notoriety for her gang inspired drama. The bulbs of cameras flash, dizzying if it weren't for Yoongi’s steady arm around your waist.
“We’ve been together for years, and she’s always stood by me and encouraged me to be the best version of myself and follow my dreams. I know I wouldn’t be where I am if I didn’t have her which is why this award is as much for me as it is for her”
And the reporters clamor over themselves to ask you questions too asking you about the open ending of your book, if there is any hope for a sequel of your drama, and what the open ending meant. “I think the best thing about stories is that you get to wait and see how they end, so I won’t let anything particularly telling go before it’s time for you to see it,” you say, teasing even though everyone knows that none of the actors that starred in your drama have schedules for the next season- and are likely slated for a continuation even if your company hasn’t announced the sequel yet.
You and Yoongi take your seats to the side, but in the front row. During the award show, at the moment when the lights go low just before the idol group that Yoongi produces for starts to perform on stage, you and Yoongi tilt your faces together. And it feels like hello- like all of the time before that you’ve kissed in the dark when your lips meet.
The moments when you’ve both found each other in the darkness, met in the middle, to be nothing other than what you are. Both you and Yoongi are brought down to your barest forms, just two people in love and better for it. Stronger together than you are apart.
The lights go up, you and Yoongi clap harder than anyone in the stands as the starting notes fade in and the choreography starts as well, another song that Yoongi’s produced, one of many in the future
And maybe no one would know you’ve kissed if it weren't for your lipstick on his mouth.
#yoongi x reader#bts drabble#bts fanfic#bts mafia au#bts gang au#min yoongi x reader#suga x reader#min yoongi#min yoongi fluff#min yoongi angst#bts fanfiction#bts fluff#bts angst#bts#bangtan boys#bangtan#bts scenario#bts reactions
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Mismatch- Part 17
Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020
“Push me off the roof you coward!”
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“So do you want to be Batman or should I?” Marion brings out the two outfits identical in every way except size.
“It’s not actually dressing up,” Marinette scolds fixing her hair.
“Well then you single handedly ruined halloween,” Marion grins coming up behind her, “Everyone wears them for it,”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Marinette watches him warily in the mirror, prepared to defend if-when he makes a move to mess up her hair.
“So Batman or Robin?” Marion holds the outfits up, dangerous close to her head.
“I don’t care,” Marinette stands up, spinning around, using the chair as a shield.
“Coin flip then,” Marion drapes them over the chair, “Oooh foreshadowing!”
“Please tell me you're going to take this marginally seriously?” Marinette leans back on the dresser as he fishes for a coin.
“You’re starting to sound like our manager,” Marion flips the coin with extra flare, “Heads,”
“You should thank Kate for setting this up,” Marinette catches the coin before he can, “Tails,”
She takes the Robin outfit from the chair, ducking Marion as she passes.
“You know I don’t think Kate wants to see me,” Marion takes his outfit behind the opposite curtain, “She's pretty stressed something will go wrong,”
“In Gotham?” Marinette pokes her head out the curtain on the other side of the room.
“I know, crazy right,” Marion also peaks through the curtain, “Where would she get that idea?”
“Who knows?” Marinette cheekily grins before ducking back behind the curtain.
“If we get attacked again I think we might give aunt- I mean,” Marion pauses pulling on his grey turtleneck, “ugh, this is hard,”
“Mari, the outfits are designed for easy use,” Marinette teases, tone sounding half hearted even from this distance.
“What are you calling her in your head?” Marion pulls the turtle neck down all the way.
“Selina,” Marinette answers, as he shrugs on his hooded crop top over the turtleneck, split into two colours to make a vague bat-shape. “Although I just avoid saying it out loud,”
“Great minds think alike,” Marion pulls on his grey leggings, that Marinette had thankfully made into thermals.
“I’m the only great mind here,” Marinette teases, Marion lets out fake gasp as he pulls a pair of shorts over his leggings, “You just like to copy,”
“How dare you!” Marion pulls the curtains aside dramatically, Marinette doesn't even look up from where she's putting on bracelets, “Dishonour! Dishonour on you, Dishonour on your kwami! Dis-”
“Hey!” Tikki flies out of the backpack.
“Sorry Tikki,” Marion looks away from the fuming Kwami, trying to avoid her by pulling on his black and blue boots.
“It’s ok Tikki,” Marinette finishes putting green and gold bracelets up to her elbows, “He’s just trying to be funny,”
“And succeeding!” Marion corrects, smoothing a mask over his eyes.
“Ah-ha,” Marinette stands, black and yellow scarf flaring out at the back.
“You know I don’t think she agrees,” Marion stage whispers to Plagg from his bag.
“Ah-ha,” Plagg says in the same tone, as Marion is pulling on his black gloves.
“Traitors, all of you,”
“Hey look,” Marinette bumps his shoulder, nodding towards someone.
“It’s Jason,” Marion whispers back excitedly, moving to wave.
“MCD doesn't know him,” Marinette grabs his arm, “Let’s hope this isn’t as awkward as it was with Chloe,”
“I thought that was fun,”
“Of course you did,”
"Hi," Jason approaches nervously, completely different to how Marion's met him before, it's cute.
"Oh hello, stranger," Marion grins, ignoring the kick from Marinette, he'll be careful, it's fine he's got this, "Whats your name?"
"Jason," Oh my God he's blushing!
"Jasin," Marion repeats pretending to write on what he was handed.
"Um…." Jason looks like he's about to correct Marion, this will be perfect- "yep,"
Fuck fuck fuck i though he would correct me fuck, Marinette help! Marinette rolls her eyes at his pleading look.
"Jason, CD," Pointing to the page without writing, "son,"
"Ohhhh Jason,” Marion says, as if he had come to some amazing realisation, Marinette looks like she wants to slap him, “haha, sorry, of course, I just didn’t hear you right, because I don’t know your name, why would I know your name? It's-"
Marinette rightfully cuts off his rambling with a swift kick, that both knew would never actually hurt him. At least Jason looks just as embarrassed as him, neither quite knowing how to start the conversation back up,"
"How about we take a picture?" Marinette says, their saving grace.
"Yeah, that would be great," Jason fumbles for his phone, Marion hopes his mask will cover his blush, as he remembers what Jason had said about him at dinner, the only reason he was blushing.
They take a nice picture together. Then one where Marion throws bunny ears behind MDC. She swats his hand away and he pushes her out of frame. The next picture is one of him and Jason with Marinette rising up, like a threatening blur in the background.
"Aw thats a nice picture" Marion looks over Jason shoulder, they were meant to be with the next person already but they were a design hopeful, babbling to MDC about her designs, "You should send it to me,"
"Of course," Jason seems flustered with his proximity, enough so that he didn't see Marion's trap.
"Great heres my number," Marion quickly writes it down on blank piece of paper, a picture seeming a bit too narcissistic at that point.
"...Waut,"
"Well you have to send it to me someway," Marion shrugs, conveniently ignori-forgetting that pictures were sent through his social media all the time.
"Right... right," Jason seems to be in a bit of a daze when Marion sends him off, standing next to Marinette as the fan leaves.
They watch Jason leave. Marinette starts giggling when he almost runs into a wall.
“Are you ok?" Marion asks, partly for the security guard who was waiting for their ok to send the next person up.
“You are such a dork,” She breaths through her upcoming laughter, “I think I need a minute,”
“Fine but if I get a hopeful fashion designer I’m telling them your new direction is crocs,” Marion huffs, not really insulted, but if he didn't act it she would only up the anti.
“Do it and your casket will be made out of crocs,” Marinette threatens ineffectively, walking to the backstage door.
“I kinda want to see that,”
“You’d be dead,” Marinette calls from the door.
“Minor issue,”
Marinette waves him off, which could have been an aborted swat. He watches as the crowd nearby begin whispering, some offering others to go first to stall for time. Marion plans to shove this in her face next time Marinette claims she isn’t popular. He’s about to take a camera out for evidence when one of the groups, fast tracked but the crowd, approaches.
Marion goes to do his more basic greetings when a gun is shoved in his face. The group made up of armed men surrounding him, one holding a camera.
“Smile for the camera,” The figure pulls his coat back, revealing the frankly disturbing face of the Joker.
“Oh it’s you,” Marion keeps a blank face, evidently confusing him, “Any chance two-face will show up?”
“.... No?” Marion fights to keep his composure as the crowd are threatened by the remaining thugs, pushing them to the ground.
“Pity, what a waste of good foreshadowing,” Marion shrugs casually, that camera is probably filming.
“What,” Marion supposes its a rare thing to see the Joker taken aback, but watching a group of armed men storm backstage distracts him from the sight.
“Nothing, I just made a brilliant joke earlier and you're sort of ruining it,” Marion makes exaggerated gestures, testing his limits, the guns follow him but don’t shoot. “Anyway are you here for an autograph or what?”
“I’m not-” He watches the Joker's face twist in gruesome realisation, “you’re trying to stall me,”
“Stall you from what?” Marion tries not to make his scan of the crowd obvious, “Please go in depth,”
“How about on the way up to the roof?” Chilling smile, but Marion is too used to fear to let it get to him.
“Oh goodie, I hear it has wonderful views,” Marion claps his hands, probably getting weird looks from the goons hiding behind masks, but who are they to judge?
He’s guided to the elevator. The Joker making the mistake of not tying his hands, or gagging him. He feels Kaalki and Plagg tense in his pocket.
“Huh, no elevator music,” Marion observes as the elevator starts to rise, “I just kind of expected it at this point,”
“You are strange,” Marion makes the mistake of glancing over, the Joker does not seem perturbed by that fact.
“You’re telling me that?” Marion tilts his head, “Actually that's quite the achievement,”
The Joker starts to go on about his plan, something about throwing MCD off the roof in front of the crowd for whatever reason, he’s not really listening. No, instead he’s made his own plan. There's no way Marinette was caught, not when she has no one to look after. She must be somewhere in the building, probably as Sparrow. It’s best if Sparrow and Songbird are seen near their other identities as little as possible, so he had to deal with the camera. If she saw the footage, which was probably being broadcast (a brilliant idea, really, no problems with that) she would intercept them. The best position would be on the elevator, but he had to buy time.
The cameras closest so he strikes, hitting it out of the goons hand, mid sentence. In the split second confusion he hits the number panel, lighting up all but a few.
“Huh, that was easy,” Marion says with genuine surprise.
“And here I thought you were being a good hostage,” Marion feels several guns press against him, but it’s only the pistol with the Joker at the end that worries him.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Marion smirks cockily, the threats turning more violent.
No, not threats, promises. Marion debates calling on Kaalki, while he’s still able too. It wouldn’t be great for a miraculous to be seen in a different country, but better than the one that can teleport than Ladybug. If Marinette couldn’t stop them in time she would surely turn to Ladybug and pick him up as he falls, right in front of the crowd and cameras. Not great.
There were other heroes in Gotham, they both knew. And if it was just him at stake he would put faith in them. But it’s not. He’s Chat Noir and there's not enough time to train a new Black Cat, not anymore.
The elevator finally reaches the top. Marion braces to help Marinette fight on the other side of the door. It opens. There’s no one. Great, great, great .
“Well, well, well why don’t we see what's behind that mask and carve up your pretty face, hm?” Joker leads him close enough to the edge of the building that anyone else should be scared.
“That sounds counter productive,” Might as well try plan b, he should have come up with one, but as is he’ll have to wing it, “Weren’t you going to throw me off the roof?”
“Eager aren't you?” Not really “After, promise,”
That grin paired with the knife inching closer should scare him, but honestly the only thing that truly scares him anymore is someone going for his ring, or Ladybug’s.
“What's the point? I’d be dead soon anyway, sounds like a waste of time,” Marion debates adding a yawn to match the tone, but it seems like overkill.
“A few screams are never a waste of time,” Marion is backed up further to the edge of the roof, able to see the fretting crowd below.
“Sounds to me like you just don’t have any confidence,” Marion says with all the sass he can muster, which is a lot.
“Oh, do explain,” The knife inching closer to the edge of his mask encourages the opposite, but he was never much good with warnings.
“If you really believe your plan will work and I wouldn’t be saved by I-don’t-know, Batman?” Yep that strikes a cord, probably not the best cord to strike with a knife in your face, oh well his wounds will heal soon anyway, “Then you’d throw me over the roof, a few cuts doesn't matter much when your dead,”
He can see the gears turning, debating if there's merit to his bullshit or if it’s just that. Honestly Marion doesn't know either.
“Revealing my identity and stuff is just a way for you to feel like you’ve won when Batman beats you,” He carefully doesn't emphasise the ‘when’, making it sound casual, like a given fact, “Cutting my face is just admitting you think the heroes will win,”
Just a little bit more. He’s almost pulled off plan ‘b’ for bat-shit crazy. He has the horse miraculous in his grip, Kaalki won’t like it but it's hard to put glasses on in mid air.
“Besides, won’t the mask leave a bit more impact?”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
“You really think the Bats going to save you huh?” The grin is unnerving, so Marion matches it with one of his own.
“I do,” He challenges, chin tilted up, “do you,”
He hears a cackle that would have surely appeared in his fear toxin dream if he heard it before. He’s pushed, vest twisted in the jokers grip, trying to stay balanced on the very edge.
“I like you kid,” And yeah, by that smile it’s not a good thing.
“Goodie,” Marion says sardonically, ignoring the shouting below, probably because his torso is all the way off the edge.
“Make sure to scream,” He feels the grip loosen, not having the natural response to grab onto something.
“I won’t,” he sends one last smirk as he’s dropped, weight sending him off balance and off the edge.
He’s in free fall and knows the screaming is not his own. He’s too busy debating the right time to transform. The street is getting closer and closer, no staff or grappling hook to save him.
“Klakki!-”
The air gets knocked out of him at the sudden change in directions. He can feel the arm and hears the glass shattering. For all the speed of a few seconds ago he is not expecting the quiet that follows. He’s leaning forward against someone's chest, both crouched down inside the building he just fell from. He recognises the shade of red first, Marinette had spent weeks with it pinned up all over their room and Marion has been wearing it ever since. He relaxes.
“Are you ok?” He gets pulled back from the chest, his complaints are cut off, a gloved hand tracing over his cheek, he feels the sting so it must be cut.
“Yeah I’m fine,” Probably not convincing, since his crush is the closest he’s ever been and Marion is almost the same shade of red.
“You’re fine?” The disbelief is clear and it takes Marion a second to realise why.
“I mean… Oh no! Trauma!” Marion tries to fall dramatically but the arm still on his back catches him.
“Good thing you’re a popstar not an actor,” Marion feels relief at the stiff atmosphere relaxing.
“Excuse you,” He snaps back up, poking Red Hood’s chest, smirking, “I’d make a wonderful actor,”
“Yeah, yeah,” Red Hood looks away, as far as Marion can tell with the helmet, “You sure you’re ok?”
“Yes, are you?” Marion stresses, remembering that he broke through the glass.
“... what?” Red Hood's full attention comes back to him.
“Are you ok?” Marion tries not to get annoyed at the answer, humour then, “After all breaking through a window isn’t much fun,”
You idiot you can't use his line on him ! Not in different identities! What if he figures it out?!
“Yeah.. yeah," He looks away again, "I’m… great,”
Marion smiles, guess things did turn out great in the end.
“CD!” Marion jumps out his skin, both suddenly realising how they looked and stand, Marinette runs right up to him, “Are you ok!?”
“Yep I’m… great,” Marion exchanges a private glance with Red Hood as Marinette frets over him.
“Thank goodness,” She sighs, shoulders sagging, then coming back up to hit him over the head, “Then why are you such an idiot!”
“Natural talent?” Marion rubs the spot, she put some Ladybug strength in that one.
“At least you’re good at something,” She sighs, brushing her hand over the spot.
“Rude,” Marion pouts, even as his head feels better, and his cut is startling to close up.
“If every things ok then,” Red Hood says awkwardly, “I’ve got a clown to go beat up,”
I Forgot!! How do you forget that! Marion yells at himself When your crush saves you from falling to your death…. Less romantic than it seemed in the moment.
“Have fun….” Marion waves, increasing the awkwardness ten fold, “dear god, I am an idiot!”
He groans into Marinette's shoulder after Red Hood left.
“Yes, but blush later, we need to be ready to provide backup,” Marinette pulls him out of the room stepping over broken glass.
“Uh- yeah! Right! lets go,” Marion snaps out of it, running after her.
“You are such a mess,” She insults as they jog, or with their speed, sprint up the stairs.
“Of all people you don’t get to call me that,” Marion needn't remind her of how she spilt orange juice all over herself at breakfast.
“... You just fell off a building, I was talking about your clothes,” Marinette has on her, ‘you’re an idiot’ face, well practiced that one.
“Oh,”
“But yeah you are a walking disaster,” She speeds up.
“Hey!” Marion sprints after her.
They reach the roof, not as out of breath as they should be.
“I thought I told you to stay put?” Red Hood snaps, alone on the roof.
“You didn’t,” They chorus coincidentally.
“I thought you had common sense,”
“We don’t,” They chorus on purpose.
Red Hood just shakes his head, probably smiling under the helmet.
“So the Joker escaped?” Marinette is the first to wipe the grin off her face.
“He was gone when I got up here,” Red Hood shrugs, “Waiting on intel,”
Probably from oracle.
“I didn’t say thank you!” Marion realises, not used to being the one saved.
“You don’t have to,” He looks away again, “Just doing my job,”
“But I want to,” Marion walks into his line of sight “So thank you,”
“Yeah well… thanks too I guess,” He looks away again and it's starting to get annoying.
“For what,” Marion leans over enough that he should be in sight, but he can't see his eye to confirm.
“I like the outfit you designed off me,” Marion freezes, almost stumbling over, “The interview was… entertaining,”
With that killing blow, a grappling hook is sent out and Red Hook is whisked away.
“.... Hey, can I borrow your miraculous?” Marion says blankly when Marinette comes to stand by him, “I need to wish myself out of existence real quick,”
----------------
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@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90 @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam
#miraculous#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug fic#bio dad bruce wayne#Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020#Mismatch#Marinette#marinette is mdc#twins au#vigilante au#pop star au#bio dad au#bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020#b!dbwm2020#Maribat#mlb
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I Love Recycling
SUMMARY: wherein water is a scarce and precious resource and you are given to Jennie as her recycler.
RATING: Explicit
PAIRINGS: Jennie x reader; side Rosé x reader
WARNINGS: smut | watersports | future au | dystopian au | idol au | kai-bashing (sorry) | inherent power imbalance | some D/s dynamics
WORD COUNT: 21.6k
A/N: !!! i was honestly scared to post this and I’m still kind of nervous so I hope you guys will be kind 🥺🥺 if i get hate on this i’ll probably delete my blog altogether lmao. this is for the handful of followers who wanted blackpink watersports.
Year 2086
Most mornings, Jennie didn’t really enjoy waking up, and would sleep past noon if she didn’t have any morning appointments. Even when she did, she often snoozed her alarm until she couldn’t anymore before getting ready.
Today, however, Jennie woke up before eight in the morning, excitement making it difficult for her to go back to sleep. Instead, she came out of her bedroom to the common area of the dorm, much to the surprise of her group members.
“Unnie, what are you doing up so early?” Lisa, who was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table having some fruit for breakfast, asked.
Chaeyoung, sitting next to Lisa and nursing a cup of tea, laughed at the question. “She’s obviously excited about today,” she teased, smirking mischievously up at Jennie.
The older girl rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchen to get some coffee. “What’s wrong with being excited?” she asked when she came back to the living room, sitting across from her two bandmates. She meant to sound tough and sassy, but there was a bit of vulnerability that she couldn’t quite hide.
Hearing it, Chaeyoung immediately backtracked. “Unnie, there’s nothing wrong with being excited! We’re sorry we laughed. I think it’s really great that you’re getting a recycler.”
Jennie blew the steam off the top of her coffee mug to avoid making eye contact with her dongsaengs. “Really?” she asked.
“Yeah, I mean, this has been your dream since even before we debuted, right? We’re happy for you, really.”
That cheered Jennie up a bit, and she smiled at them. “Okay,” she accepted, grateful to have such supportive friends. Getting a recycler had been a big decision, especially since she didn’t live alone. She’d initially been nervous to broach the topic with them, terrified that they would say no to such a big commitment and having another person living in the dorm with them, but they’d been cheering her on the whole time.
It was common for idols, as well as other members of society’s rich and elite, to have recyclers. After all, water was a precious resource, and rationed to each individual or family unit based on net worth, contributions to society, and so forth. The distribution system was regulated by an algorithm so complex most people couldn’t understand it, and there were, unfortunately, people at the fringes of society who didn’t get enough water to survive.
The solution, therefore, was relatively simple and straightforward. People who weren’t assigned enough water to survive could sign up to be recyclers and be assigned to members of society who were given an excess of water, and the name was somewhat self-explanatory. Basically, recyclers… recycled the water the elites drank.
Put more bluntly, they drank pee.
It was highly regulated, of course – applicants who wanted recyclers of their own had to go through health checkups and maintain a healthy and responsible lifestyle before they were assigned a recycler. There were background checks, home visits and it was overall a very stringent selection process. Even as the only daughter of a wealthy family, Jennie hadn’t been able to qualify. It wasn’t until she was an established idol with a group and a thriving solo career that she finally got the letter informing her that she was now eligible to undergo the selection process to have a recycler if she wanted it.
And, well… she definitely did. Recyclers, because of the nature of their relationship with their assigned donators, grew very close to them, a bond that often lasted a lifetime. It was exceedingly rare for recyclers to apply for a new donator – approximately 0.1% of recyclers did, usually because their handler abused them or had contracted a disease that made it unsafe for them to continue donating their urine. Jennie did not intend on being part of that 0.1%.
As an only child, Jennie had often been lonely growing up, and after watching a documentary when she was in her teens about the intimate bond between donators and recyclers, had craved that kind of companionship. Today, a long-held dream was finally coming true, and she was going to be bringing her assigned recycler home today.
She still had a little bit of time before she was supposed to get ready, so she opened her laptop and pulled up the file she’d been sent on her recycler. The file was comprehensive – full name, picture, age, educational background and other details. Enough for Jennie to start constructing an idea of what the girl she’d been assigned would look like, but not enough for her to understand L/n Y/n, the person. Still, she supposed, there would be plenty of time for that in the coming years.
Really, the agency had done a remarkable job of finding her the perfect companion. She’d had only a few vague ideas about what she wanted – a girl, preferably, because she was just more comfortable with having a girl around 24/7, someone younger than her so she could dote on her and fulfil her older sister fantasies, and cute. The last requirement was something that she’d reluctantly added at the request of her management company. Having recyclers was a symbol of stature, and played into idols’ image of being successful and wealthy. Jennie didn’t necessarily like it, but they wouldn’t have okayed her having a recycler who wasn’t photogenic, so she’d had no choice.
As much as she knew about her recycler, Y/n didn’t know much about her at all, because she’d requested that her identity be kept strictly private. With the amount of public interest in idols’ lives, she knew her seeking a recycler would be leaked if she didn’t take the utmost care to keep it secret, and even though it was inevitable that everyone would eventually find out, she wanted to keep it to herself just for a little while. A few weeks to get to know her recycler without public scrutiny, was that too much to ask for?
Anyways, given that her recycler didn’t know anything about her or who she was, she wanted to make a good impression. She’d been thinking of what to wear for days now and hadn’t been able to decide, but now time was running out and she had to choose something fast.
“Aaaargh,” she cried, ruffling her hair in frustration as she stared at her closet. Half of her closet was Chanel and the other half was filled with assorted haute couture pieces, yet she couldn’t come up with something that she was confident meeting you in.
Hearing her scream, Jisoo slipped into her room sleepily. “What’s going on?” she asked, yawning. Jennie had woken her up, and she sat down on the bed, sighing. She wished she was still in her own bed.
“Unnie, I can’t figure out what to wear,” Jennie complained, turning to her bandmate.
Jisoo blinked at her. “Why are you having such a hard time? It’s not a big deal.”
“But I want her to like me,” Jennie whined, sticking her head back into her closet.
“She’s going to like you no matter what, Jennie-yah,” Jisoo said, her eyes drooping.
“You don’t know that! How could you possibly know that?” Jennie cried, sliding the hangers one by one along the bar in her closet to look at all her clothes.
Jisoo sighed. “Just don’t wear pants. It makes it harder to… you know.”
Jennie, who had been looking at a pair of wide-legged trousers, turned back to look at Jisoo with wide eyes. “Oh my God, that’s true,” she said, sliding it over to the right and beginning to browse through her skirts and dresses instead.
In the end, she went with a simple ensemble – a white, off-shoulder, cropped blouse with a large bow on the bottom and a short black pleated skirt. Because she was a Chanel girl at heart, she paired it with a small black Classic Flap and heeled booties.
By the time she was ready to leave, she was running late (despite her early start today!) and dashed out of the dorm, yelling a hasty goodbye to her roommates. As she walked towards her car in the underground parking lot of the dorm, she sent out a quick prayer of thanks that YG had finally lifted the ban on the members driving. This whole thing would have been all the more awkward if she’d had to have someone drive her there.
------------------------------
As she pulled into the parking lot of the Bureau of Water Distribution, Jennie pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. The security to get in was fairly rigid, since there were so many high net worth and prominent individuals who came to pick up their recyclers here. On the bright side, that meant no paparazzi, and everyone around her today would either be trained to ignore the fact that she was an idol, or famous enough that her presence wouldn’t faze them.
After parking her BMW, Jennie got out of the car and entered the building, psyching herself up to meet Y/n. It was just the most important day of her life, that’s all. You could divorce a husband, but recyclers were forever. She introduced herself at the counter and was almost immediately taken to a private room, where she was told to wait for her recycler.
With some time to kill, Jennie started looking around. The room was beautiful – marble flooring, leather couches, fancy furniture and art. This room was designed with its wealthy occupants in mind, and it showed. She squirmed in her seat nervously, her heart pounding from the nerves. If her recycler didn’t come soon, she was going to find her on the ground, unconscious.
Despite the anticipation, Jennie almost leapt out of her seat when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she said in a shaky voice as she stood up, her hands folded in front of her. The door opened and a stout lady in a pantsuit bustled in, clearly a member of the staff here from the lanyard dangling from her neck.
“Miss Kim, it’s nice to meet you. This is L/n Y/n,” she said, stepping aside so Jennie could take a good look at you.
You were clearly nervous, your eyes downcast and your hands, like hers, clasped politely in front of you. Without raising your eyes, you folded yourself into a deep bow, your torso parallel to the ground. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Kim. Thank you for choosing me as your—” Your eyes widened in shock as you saw the person who was standing in front of you for the first time.
“Right, well, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other. When you’re ready to leave, just give me a call and I’ll give you the rest of the paperwork,” the staff member said before making herself scarce.
“Thank you,” Jennie said, nodding at the staff member as she left and shut the door behind her. Then she turned her attention to you. Your clear nervousness did a lot to put her at ease – she immediately slipped into nurturing mode as she saw how vulnerable you looked. Clad in the plain dress that came standard issue for recyclers, slightly hunched over, trying to make yourself smaller… the wave of tenderness that rushed over her almost knocked her clear over.
“Come sit down,” she said, sitting on the couch herself and patting the cushion next to her in invitation.
“Okay, Miss Kim,” you said politely, making a beeline for the couch. Clearly, you’d been taught to be obedient to your donator, but this was a little excessive, Jennie thought.
“You don’t have to be that formal, Y/n-ie. You can just call me Jennie,” she reassured you. “And you can relax. I don’t know what they taught you about how recyclers are supposed to act, but I really want you to become part of my family,” she continued, placing her hands over yours, which were still clasped together tightly.
Your gaze drifted from your hands in your lap up to her, and the apparent sincerity in her gaze as she smiled at you putting you at ease. It was still terrifying, of course – you hadn’t known until just now that your mysterious donator was a world-famous idol, and you didn’t quite know how to react. Still, the earnest expression on her face had you believing that no matter what, she would be right there with you. It was a nice feeling, and you couldn’t believe that someone you’d known for about five minutes was able to make you feel this way when no one in your life had ever succeeded.
“Thank you, Miss Kim— I mean, Jennie-unnie,” you amended hastily. “Sorry, it’s just that your file only had your last name, so I got used to calling you that in my head.”
Then you realized what you’d said and flushed scarlet, much to Jennie’s delight. It was reassuring to know that she hadn’t been the only one looking over your file almost obsessively.
“Don’t worry,” Jennie said, squeezing your hands lightly. “I’ve been excited to meet you too. I know my file was pretty empty, though, so I’m happy to answer any questions you have before we sign the papers.”
“R-really?” Your eyes lit up.
Jennie chuckled. It was so easy to make you happy, it seemed. “Go wild,” she encouraged.
“Does being your recycler mean being in the public eye a lot?” you asked the first question that came to your mind.
Jennie hummed thoughtfully. “It might,” she admitted. “But we’ll all do our best to protect you, so you don’t have to worry, okay?”
You nodded as you digested that, then asked the next question. “Will I be living in the dorm with the other members?”
“Yeah, at least for a couple of years. When the lease is up on the apartment, we probably won’t renew it. It’s weird for us to be so old and still living together.” Catching your dumbfounded expression, she laughed. “Why? Are you excited to meet the others?”
At her question, you immediately ducked your head, though she could still see how red your ears were. She laughed in delight. “Y/n, are you a fan?”
You yanked your hands out from under hers to cover your face, which was hot to the touch. “Maybe,” you confessed miserably. She definitely found this weird now and would request a different recycler; you’d screwed things up before it even began.
“That’s so sweet,” Jennie cooed, patting your head. “Don’t worry, I’m sure everyone will love you.”
That didn’t sound like she was upset. Peeking at her from between your fingers, you saw that she was smiling, so you slowly lowered your hands. “Really?” you asked with a small voice, and she nodded at you, still smiling.
“Okay.” You smiled shyly back at her, and Jennie could barely resist cooing over you.
“Are you ready to get the papers now?” she asked, and you nodded.
She used the intercom in the room to call the staff member back, and the paperwork was quickly dealt with. You both signed the copies of the agreement presented to you – one for each of you, and one for the Bureau’s records – and that was it, you were free to go. Before the staff member left, however, Jennie stopped her to ask where the restroom was.
“What? You have a brand-new recycler right there!” the staff member barely got out through peals of laughter. Jennie looked over at you and flushed. She’d asked out of habit, forgetting that this was your whole purpose.
“Take as much time as you need, you can leave when you’re ready. Have a nice day!��� she said as she left. Jennie and you stared at each other with wide eyes for an awkward moment before you looked away, clearing your throat.
“Uh, right… how do you want to do this?” you mumbled.
Jennie gulped and looked around. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet. “Uhh… how do you prefer to…?” she asked uncertainly.
Your gaze snapped up to hers. “I’ve never practiced it,” you told her. “Donators usually like to train their recyclers themselves according to their preferences.”
“Oh…” Jennie was clearly way out of her depth, floundering for help, and you felt a deep tug inside you that compelled you to provide that guidance.
You placed your hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back onto the couch, then got on your knees in front of her. It was here that you hesitated – was it too intimate to help her remove her clothing? Was this something she would expect of you? – and you slowly raised your hands, giving her plenty of time to take off her own panties if she wanted to.
Instead, she continued staring down at you as you slipped your hands under her skirt, resting against the smooth, warm skin of her hips. It boggled your mind that you were in this position – you, who’d entered Bureau protection at the age of fifteen, who’d led a miserable, unspectacular life right up till this point, had been chosen as Jennie’s recycler. And she was so nice, too. Maybe this was an apology from God for dropping the ball on your life so badly.
“All right,” you murmured. “Here we go.” Then you hooked your fingers in her panties and started drawing them down. You’d never done this in real life, but there was an abundance of written material for recyclers, so you knew in theory how it worked. Swallowing hard, you pulled the scrap of lacy fabric down her legs gently, then set them aside.
“Uh, okay…” You looked up at her. “So, how do you want to do this? Do you want me to close my eyes, or…”
Jennie just looked blank. Clearly, she hadn’t given much thought to the details involved in recycling. Well, you thought optimistically, this was preferential to the donators who fetishized the act.
“I don’t know,” she finally admitted.
“It’s okay,” you rushed to comfort her, squeezing her ankle. “We can figure it out together.” Sooner rather than later would probably be best though, since she was starting to squirm in her seat. Pushing her knees apart, you positioned yourself beneath her, opening your mouth and looking up at her face.
“Is this okay?”
“Uh, I guess?” She was still gnawing her lip uncertainly, though, so you sat back to regard her.
“Is something bothering you?” you asked, your brows knitting together in concern.
“I don’t know, this is just kind of weird, isn’t it?” she fretted. “I don’t want to accidentally spray you in the face.”
You bit back a laugh. You were literally drinking her urine, and she thought you were afraid of getting some on your face? That was kind of cute, you thought. “Even if you do, they always keep wet wipes and towels in the rooms so that’s not a problem. If you’re really worried, I can form a seal with my mouth, but I read that sometimes it’s harder to pee like that.”
“Okay, let’s try that first, and then if it doesn’t work, we can go with the wipes?” she suggested. Your new donator was honestly so cute, and it was so different from her onstage persona that you were confused. Compartmentalizing it all and prioritizing her current needs over your disbelief that any of this was happening was the only way you were getting through this, but there would be plenty of time later to sit and mull over your thoughts.
Shuffling back slightly, you bent down to press your mouth to her bare pussy, being extremely careful with the… placement of everything so you didn’t make it awkward. Once you were settled, you remained still, focusing on not moving your tongue at all. Not knowing where to look, you ended up focusing on the ceiling. As a result, you didn’t see Jennie’s face twist slightly as she tried to focus on releasing her bladder.
Even though you couldn’t see it, you heard her huff in frustration and effort and felt the minute movements as she clenched and released her pelvic muscles, trying to start the stream. You waited patiently, your hands resting in your lap, forcing your body to relax to avoid stressing her out.
Eventually, she managed to do it, a little spurt trickling into your mouth. After that, it felt like the floodgates had opened as she started peeing more forcefully, forcing you to gulp it down hastily if you didn’t want to choke.
Urine, you’d read, tasted bitter and/or salty, depending on the diet of the individual. You’d been prepared to get used to it, knowing that you didn’t have much of a choice, but thankfully Jennie didn’t taste awful, which was probably because of her healthy diet. It just made you all the more grateful to have been assigned to her.
The stream eventually petered out, and you waited for a second to make sure she was done before pulling back, not sure if she wanted you to help clean her off. You looked up at her uncertainly and found her staring at you with a look of such sheer contentment that you couldn’t help but smile back at her.
“Thank you, Y/n-ah,” she said, still looking blissed out, and you helped her get dressed before standing up. She stood up too and took your hand as she led you out of the building.
When you stepped out, you blinked, slightly disoriented. You’d barely left this place for five years, and now you were leaving for good. It felt weird – even though you knew that this day was coming, especially after you received the file on your donator, it still felt strange to be walking out like this, with Kim Jennie from Blackpink, no less.
Jennie caught your bewildered expression and paused. “Are you okay?” she asked, taking a step back so she was standing next to you again.
“Uh, yeah, just… it’s been a while since I came in,” you replied dazedly, looking up at the building. It looked so ordinary from the outside.
You didn’t have that many things, having led a fairly spartan lifestyle in the Bureau, so there wasn’t much to load up her car with. Jennie had been informed, of course – donators were expected to provide for all their recyclers’ needs, which was one reason why the income requirements for donators were so strict. You slipped into the passenger seat of the BMW, looking around with wide eyes and sitting carefully with your hands folded in your lap, not wanting to touch anything unnecessarily.
“Relax, Y/n-ie.” She laughed at you as she started the car. “Put on your seatbelt,” she reminded, pulling out of the parking lot. You buckled yourself in but continued sitting uncomfortably.
“Seriously, chill out. You’re going to be spending so much time in this car; you can’t possibly stay like that forever.”
“Okay,” you said shyly, relaxing just a little into the seat. The windows were all tinted so no one could see in, which was probably for the best, since you were not ready to be plastered all over the tabloids.
“So tell me more about yourself, Y/n-ie,” Jennie requested. “You mentioned earlier that it had been a while since you came in. When did you join the Bureau?”
“When I was fifteen,” you explained.
“Really? That’s young. I thought people could only sign up to be recyclers when they turned eighteen.”
“That’s true, but there are exceptions for extenuating circumstances, like where families are unable to provide for their children.”
“Oh,” she said awkwardly. “I’m sorry.” You could see her wincing, like she was afraid she’d said something wrong.
“No, don’t be,” you assured her. “I never had the best life anyway. It actually got better when I was emancipated from my family. I got to finish my GED and everything because I joined the Bureau.”
“Well, that’s good,” she said a little lamely, not sure how to process that. She’d always known she was fortunate to be born into a family that could afford to give her all the opportunities that had led her to where she was today but seeing the difference between her life and yours so starkly forced her to confront her privilege more directly.
She directed the conversation back to more neutral topics and the drive home passed relatively quickly. As they took the elevator up from the underground carpark, Jennie prayed with all her might that the others hadn’t decided to do something completely over-the-top and ridiculous to welcome you into their home. You already seemed overwhelmed with everything that was happening (and yeah, maybe she should have consented to letting you know her identity before today) and she didn’t want to stress you out anymore.
Thankfully, there were no streamers or anything like that, although all three of the girls were seated on the couch, eagerly waiting. When the door opened, they leapt up as one, rushing to the door. You were, of course, startled by the sight of the three celebrities all but tripping over themselves to come greet you, and hid behind Jennie, clutching the back of her shirt while you peeped at the others over her shoulder.
As annoyed as she was with the others for being so extra, she couldn’t help but enjoy the way you were clinging to her, seeking protection and comfort. This was exactly what she’d been craving her whole life, and on the day that she met you, you provided it for her so effortlessly.
“Guys,” she frowned at them, but none of them were buying it since they could all see the subtle signs of her happiness that she couldn’t quite hide. It was in the way her eyes softened slightly and the relaxed posture of her shoulders.
“Sorry,” Lisa giggled. “We were just so excited to meet our new roommate.”
“Well, this is L/n Y/n,” she introduced you, stepping aside so the others could take a good look at you. Deprived of your shield now, you seemed to fold in on yourself.
“Hi,” you said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. Your greeting was accompanied by an awkward little hand wave, and Jennie could see the rest of the girls melting over you.
“Okay, let’s get you settled in, sweetie,” Jennie butted in. You nodded and followed her to her room like a baby chick, and she busied herself with showing you around and telling you where your stuff was, trying her best to ignore the sound of the others sitting in the living room cooing and giggling to each other.
When she was done, which honestly didn’t take that long since the apartment was rather modestly sized anyway, they returned to the living room where Jennie sat on the floor in front of the coffee table and you knelt politely next to her.
“I’m hungry, did you guys order lunch yet?” she asked the others, looking at the impressive collection of takeout menus spread out across the coffee table.
“No, we thought since it’s Y/n’s welcome lunch, she could order!” Chaeyoung explained, smiling at you.
“You guys, that’s so nice!” Jennie was moved on your behalf, but you were basically frozen, staring with wide eyes down at the menus. You had no idea what to do – at the Bureau all meals had been provided (and none of you had ever had any money anyways), and back when you’d lived with your parents, takeout had been a rare luxury.
“Um, what do you like, unnie?” you immediately turned to ask Jennie, the person you were the most familiar with in the house, albeit not by much.
“You should choose what you like today, Y/n-ie!” Jennie, absolutely unhelpfully, encouraged.
“Uhhh…” You turned back towards the dizzying selection of menus. “Maybe we can just get some kimchi stew?” You went with the most simple, basic option you could think of. Your mother used to make it for special occasions, and it was one of the few good memories you had of your childhood home.
“Yeah, that sounds great!” Chaeyoung cheered enthusiastically, sweeping aside the mess to pick up the menu for her favourite stew restaurant. “What do you guys want? I’ll order it,” she asked the others, and soon all four of them were poring over the menu, their heads close together as they discussed what dishes to get.
Since you’d already chosen, you sat back on your heels, watching them. Really, for being one of the most popular groups in kpop today, they seemed surprisingly normal to you. You hadn’t known what to expect coming into their home, but they were doing their best to make you feel included and comfortable with them.
Even as you were looking on fairly contentedly, ruminating on your good fortune to have gotten such an amazing second family, Jennie reached over to your lap and took your hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly. When you looked over at her, she smiled at you, trying to convey without words just how happy she was that you were here.
For the first time, you started to believe that maybe the Bureau had been right when they’d assured the recyclers that they would help them find new homes far better than the ones they’d left.
---------------------------------
After lunch, all the girls retreated back into their rooms for naps. You and Jennie ducked back into her room – well, you amended, it was your shared room now – and Jennie shut the door in Jisoo’s face as she tried to come in after them. “Sorry, unnie, but she’s my recycler,” Jennie said, giggling at Jisoo’s stunned face before closing the door.
When she turned back to you, however, her expression was a lot more uncertain. “I hope that was okay,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you?”
You smiled back at her. “No, of course not,” you rushed to reassure her.
“Oh, okay, good,” she replied with visible relief. “Um, I do have to…”
“Right, of course.” You’d watched her casually drink glass after glass of water with lunch, after all, so this wasn’t really a surprise for you. It had been a little disconcerting, sure, because you were pretty sure between the four of them they’d easily consumed a day’s worth of water for you during lunch, but then again, they were rich and famous idols, so that was to be expected.
“How do you want to do this?” you asked, though you didn’t have much hope that she had an actual answer for you, based on how lost she’d been earlier.
Predictably, she just stared at you with wide eyes. Your lips twitched. “Do you want to do this in the shower?” you offered. There were a number of positions you’d studied, but obviously you’d never tried any of them out. She nodded, and you made your way to the bathroom together.
You knelt in the shower and waited for Jennie to join you. She stepped in hesitantly, standing in front of you. “Hey,” you greeted, smiling up at her as you held a hand out for her to take. She placed her hand in it and let you pull her over. “You okay?” you asked, running your thumb across her knuckles.
“Yeah,” she said, smiling down at you. Letting go of her hand, you slipped your hands up her skirt again to pull her panties down and off. She stepped out of them, then stepped closer to you.
“You have to open your legs a little more,” you murmured, before ducking your head slightly so you could look up at her pussy. Getting the idea, she widened her stance, then frowned. It still felt awkward.
Seeing her discomfort, you shuffled back closer to the wall, then guided her into a different position. Her hands were braced against the wall above your head, and she’d raised one leg, her knee pressing against the wall for support. “Is this better?” you murmured.
She nodded, then closed her eyes, concentrating. In this position, your mouth wasn’t pressed against her, so the first spurt missed your mouth entirely, spraying your cheek and dripping down your neck. Ignoring it, you adjusted your position and came a little closer to catch the rest of it neatly. Her taste was quickly becoming familiar to you now, and as you gulped it down, your eyes wandered up to her face, catching the blissful, relieved expression she was wearing. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly open, her brow furrowed slightly as she leaned her face against her arm. It was so cute that you couldn’t look away for a moment.
When the stream finally waned and then stopped, the last bit dripped against her thigh instead of falling into your mouth. You went to clean it up for her, then hesitated, not sure if she would be comfortable with it. Jennie had caught your aborted motion and asked what you were doing.
You looked up at her with an embarrassed flush. “I was, uh, going to clean it up for you,” you admitted.
She giggled at you, resting her forehead against the wall to look down more comfortably. “Go for it,” she urged, and you drew your tongue up her inner thigh, following the trail. You paused when your tongue hit the crook between her thigh and her body, and she just smiled at you encouragingly, so you continued, lapping up the droplets that clung to her.
Jennie helped you get yourself cleaned up after, then tucked you in next to her for a nap. As you drifted off to sleep, you squirmed a little closer to her, seeking her warmth and comfort.
-------------------------------------
The day that Jennie had come to pick you up from the Bureau, you quickly learned, had been a rare day off for all four of them. Most days, even if they didn’t have group activities and appearances, Jennie had her own solo appointments, like interviews, meetings with Teddy for her solo work, Chanel appearances and so on. Because you couldn’t be away from her for more than a few hours, you went with her for most of them, though you stayed behind the scenes.
Since you’d come to her with so little of your own, Jennie had been having a field day shopping for you. Whenever she was free, she’d be on her phone or laptop browsing the different shopping websites with you. At first you’d been reluctant to buy so many new things, only selecting cheap clearance items, but with her repeated encouragement, you’d gotten bolder with choosing clothes and accessories that you liked.
Today, you were dressed in a cute summery outfit, a loose V-necked blouse with ruffled half-sleeves tucked into high-waisted dressy shorts. Loafers completed your cute ensemble, and a Chanel pendant that Jennie had lent you sat between your collarbones.
Jennie was supposed to be focusing on the photoshoot, but her gaze kept drifting towards you, sitting behind the photographer and watching everything with rapt attention. After being in the spotlight for so many years, all of this was commonplace to Jennie, just another day’s work, but it was all new and exciting for you, and seeing your fascination with photoshoots and music recording was refreshing for her.
The photographer knew Jennie was distracted, but the expression she was wearing, soft and open, was far better than the neutral, slightly pouty one she usually showed the camera, so he didn’t complain or direct her attention back to the shoot. This was amazing stuff, and fans would go wild for these photos.
He’d wanted to include you in the photo shoot and tell the world about Jennie’s new recycler, but that had been strictly forbidden. Jennie wanted to be able to tell the public about her recycler on her own terms and when you were ready, and you definitely weren’t yet. It was becoming somewhat of an open secret in the industry since you followed her almost everywhere, but everyone knew that if they were the one to leak it to the public, they would be blacklisted by YG, so no one dared.
When the photoshoot ended, you went back to the dorm together, Jennie driving while you chattered on excitedly about what you’d seen at the shoot. It appeared that Jennie wasn’t the only one who thought you were adorable – the other staff members there had too and indulged your many questions. The makeup artist had even done your makeup, and you were still giggling about it when you left the shoot venue with Jennie.
Tonight, however, Jennie was a little distracted, because she was going to see Kai for the first time since she’d gotten you, and she was worried about leaving you at home. You’d started to get along well with the others, so she wasn’t concerned about that, but for the last two weeks or so that she’d had you, you’d barely left her side. Was it weird to get separation anxiety from her recycler?
When you got back to the apartment, Jisoo and Lisa were still out with their own appointments, but Chaeyoung was hanging out in the living room watching Netflix on the TV, so you skipped off to join her while Jennie went and got ready. She called you into her room before she left to use your services, and you slipped off the couch to enter her room.
By now, you’d figured out your favourite way to do this, and Jennie had bought a special chair for this purpose. You rested under the seat comfortably, your body on an incline with your head slightly back, while Jennie sat down. She’d decided that she liked it better when your mouth was pressed against her, telling you that it was because it made less of a mess but actually rather enjoying the warm, cozy feeling of your lips against her, so the chair was set up so that your face was almost peeking through the seat.
She was wearing a pretty dress, which was currently scrunched around her waist, her panties in your hand. From her position on your face, she was staring at your legs, which were stretched out across the floor. This was the position that was the most comfortable for both of you given the limitations of the chair, and even though she’d been self-conscious at first about the way you were basically looking directly up her ass in this position, you’d rightly pointed out how silly it was to get shy about that, all things considered.
You really were a godsend, she thought as she relaxed and started to urinate in your mouth. So sweet and kind to her and everyone else you were around, and really, having you around meant she didn’t have to spend as much time fighting with the other girls for access to the bathroom, which was great in itself, but this comfortable set-up felt like the epitome of luxury to her. She was starting to love the experience of pissing in your mouth, and she wondered if you were aware of just how much she liked it.
When she was done, you conscientiously licked her clean, as usual, another aspect of the whole experience that she deeply enjoyed, then she got up off your face. You smiled at her as you extricated yourself from under the chair, then held her panties out for her to step into.
“Have fun on your date tonight, unnie,” you chirped, seeing her to the front door where she put her shoes on. She gave you a hug and a forehead kiss before departing.
You returned to the couch, curling up next to Chaeyoung with your legs folded beneath you, and she unpaused the show you’d been watching. It was just the two of you tonight, since Jisoo and Lisa had plans too. You didn’t mind – after Jennie, Chaeyoung was probably your favourite. You rested your head on her shoulder as you watched the movie quietly.
When the credits started to roll, Chaeyoung switched off the TV and the two of you made your way into the kitchen to get dinner. As you were chopping up the kimchi for the kimchi fried rice, Chaeyoung, who was stir-frying the pork, struck up a conversation by asking you how your day had been.
Excited, you started chattering on about how much fun you’d had tagging along on Jennie’s photoshoot, continuing even after dinner was ready and you moved back to the living room to start eating.
Chaeyoung, who, like Jennie, was so used to photoshoots and the like that they’d completely lost their charm, thought it was absolutely adorable how excited you were about what to them were regular, daily events. When you finally wound down, she asked, “So what was it like for you growing up?”
You put down your spoon and finished chewing your food. “I didn’t come from the best family,” you explained. “I was emancipated when I was fifteen and joined the Bureau and lived there until I was old enough to come here.” Jennie knew most of the details surrounding your past, courtesy of sleepy late-night chats almost every night, but the others didn’t.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Chaeyoung apologized, thinking she’d brought up unpleasant memories.
You shrugged. “It’s all right. My parents tried their best, but there was never quite enough water and money. It was a relief for us all when I left, I think. And I’m here now, so it worked out,” you concluded, smiling at her.
“I guess you’ve been enjoying your time with us then?”
“What gave me away?” you giggled. “Everyone’s been really nice, especially Jennie-unnie. I’ve never had so many clothes and things.”
Chaeyoung was surprised by how happy you seemed to be. Even though recyclers were fairly commonplace, she’d always expected that they would be kind of unhappy about their lot in life. “Really? So you don’t mind the whole drinking pee thing?”
You’d just put a spoonful of rice in your mouth when she said that, and in your surprise, some went down the wrong pipe, causing you to choke and cough. “Jesus,” you wheezed when you finally recovered.
“Sorry, sorry!” Chaeyoung cringed. “That was a really personal question, wasn’t it?”
“Kind of,” you shrugged, “but it’s okay. And to answer your question, I don’t really mind, I guess. Like, I learned at the Bureau that some people taste pretty gross, but Jennie-unnie tastes okay. And it makes her so happy.”
“Yeah, it really does.” Chaeyoung had to agree. In the past few weeks since you’d come to live with her, Jennie had smiled more, and doted on you like crazy. Plus, it was clear the arrangement suited her – the satisfied smile she wore whenever you emerged from her room together had become somewhat of an inside joke among the girls.
“Are you thinking of getting a recycler of your own?” you asked, resting your chin on your hand as you regarded her. Your expression was open and friendly, and Chaeyoung hesitated, looking away shyly.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for the commitment,” she confessed.
“I understand that,” you said, nodding. You really did – a recycler was a whole person that she would be responsible for, and you knew it was a big responsibility. “I think it’s really great that you’re aware of your limitations.” You reached over and patted her hand.
With a rush of bravery brought about by how nice you were being, she finally said, in a slightly embarrassed tone, “I’ve always wanted to try it, though.”
“Try what?”
“Uh, you know…” Having utilized her store of bravery, Chaeyoung hid her face in the crook of her elbow on the table.
“Oh,” you said, then, as the meaning of her words sank in, you repeated, “Oh.”
Even though her head was resting on the table, you could see her shoulders drawing up around her ears as she let out a miserable whine, regretting having said anything in the first place. Your lips twitched in amusement. This was honestly pretty funny, and even after being here for a couple of weeks, you couldn’t believe that little old you got to see the famous pop stars like this.
“It’s okay, forget I said anything, please,” Chaeyoung begged, finally lifting her face off the table to face you.
You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from laughing at her. “No, it’s okay, really,” you rushed to assure her when you were sure you could speak without gigging. “Have you talked to Jennie about it?”
Chaeyoung shrugged. “No, why would I?”
“She might be able to tell you more about it,” you said, then hesitated before making your offer. “Plus, if she doesn’t mind, I could… you know.”
That caught her attention. “Really?” she asked, perking up.
“Yeah, if Jennie-unnie is okay with it, I guess I don’t mind,” you said, shrugging. After all, you’d been around her long enough to know what her eating and drinking patterns were like, and she seemed to have a pretty healthy lifestyle, so you didn’t have any concerns.
---------------------------------------
It was past midnight when Jennie came home, and you were already in bed, doing something on the laptop she’d gotten you last week. You looked up when you heard the door open and smiled at her when she came in.
“Did you have a good date?” you asked as Jennie set down her bag and sat at her dresser to remove her makeup.
She smiled at you in the mirror. “Yeah, I did,” she told you. It was true – Kai knew that she’d gotten a recycler since she’d been texting him with updates while he was on tour, and was interested to know how you were settling in, plus they’d had sex at his apartment after dinner, which was why she’d returned to the dorm so late.
As she went to the bathroom to shower, she thought about something weird that had happened, though. Kai had been almost too interested in you. At first she’d brushed it off, happy that he was taking an interest in you since you were now an important part of her life, but he’d kept asking intimate questions that she didn’t quite know how to answer.
Plus, she’d had to use the toilet at his apartment since she couldn’t hold it anymore, and after weeks of pissing exclusively in your mouth, it had felt strange and almost unpleasant. Would it be weird to take you along on date nights, she wondered. It was almost inevitable that you would meet at some point if her relationship with him continued, so it might be best to introduce you two anyway.
By the time she went back to the bedroom, clad in her pajamas, you’d put your laptop away and were snuggled up in bed, on the side closer to the wall. You smiled softly as she padded through the room to get under the covers next to you, turning onto your side to face her. Excitedly, you asked her for more details about your date, and she acquiesced, recounting every detail of it to her attentive one-person audience.
“Wow,” you sighed as you closed your eyes, “that’s so cool. I’ve never been on a date like that before.”
“Really? Never?” Shocked, Jennie turned onto her front and propped herself up with her elbows on the mattress so she could look down at you.
“Yeah, I went to live in the Bureau when I was fifteen, remember?” you said, opening your eyes.
“Right.” Jennie lay back down, starting to feel bad for you. If you were her recycler, chances were you’d never be able to experience many things that she took for granted.
“And you’re dating Kai from EXO too, wow,” you sighed. “I love EXO.”
“Well, maybe you’ll be able to meet them one of these days,” Jennie said lightly. Now that she knew you were excited about EXO, she felt a lot better about introducing you to her boyfriend.
“Maybe,” you said, before letting out a massive yawn.
“Okay, sweetie, good night,” she said, leaning over to kiss your forehead, before turning off the light using her phone.
--------------------------------
The next morning, you and Jennie slept in, and by the time you emerged from her room, the others were already hanging out in the living room. Jennie went to get breakfast for both of you in the kitchen while you sat on the couch with Lisa.
Chaeyoung, seeing Jennie, got up and followed her to the kitchen. After exchanging greetings and niceties, she got straight to the point, too excited and nervous to beat around the bush. Last night, she’d barely gotten any sleep from thinking so hard about your offer, and the more the thought floated around her mind, the more she found herself craving it.
“Unnie, can I ask you a question?”
Jennie, still slightly sleepy, grunted as she poured herself some coffee.
Understanding that that meant yes, Chaeyoung forged ahead. “Do you like having a recycler? Like, I mean, the actual recycling part,” she clarified.
Jennie turned to blink at her, the coffee pot still in her hand. “Are you asking me if I like having Y/n drink my pee?” she asked slowly. She wasn’t much of a morning person, and Chaeyoung could hear the gears in her head slowly grinding as she thought about the question.
“Uh, yeah,” Chaeyoung confirmed, a little abashed now as she rubbed the back of her neck.
“Yeah, it’s nice.” The thought of it put a little smile on Jennie’s face as she took her coffee and turned to lean against the counter, raising the mug to her lips.
“Great, that’s great. I was talking to Y/n-ie about it last night, and uh… I was wondering if I could try?”
“Try… what?” Jennie raised an eyebrow.
“You know…” Chaeyoung, now shy, looked down at the floor. “Recycling.”
“Oh…” After pausing to take a sip of her coffee, Jennie shrugged. “I mean, it’s her choice. If she says yes, I’m not going to stop her.”
Hearing that, Chaeyoung’s eyes lit up. “R-really?!”
Jennie blinked, not sure why she seemed so surprised. “Yeah, she’s still her own person. I can’t make these decisions for her. But only if she wants to, okay? You can’t pressure her into it.”
“No, of course not,” Chaeyoung assured her. “She was the one who offered, actually. Yay! Thank you, unnie!” she cheered. “I can’t wait to tell her about it.”
At the blatant display of enthusiasm, Jennie rolled her eyes and raised her coffee cup back to her lips to hide how cute she thought her dongsaeng’s excitement was. As much as she tried to play it cool, she could relate – she loved recycling too. It was probably a strange comparison to make, all things considered, but you’d spent more time down there with your lips pressed to her than Kai ever had, and she was starting to enjoy you cleaning her off way more than she should, given that it wasn’t necessarily an erotic act for you.
Still, she thought as she downed her coffee, that seemed like a problem for a different time, when they didn’t have to get to the studio to practice. Placing the mug into the sink to wash when they got home, she left the kitchen to eat breakfast and then get ready.
-----------------------------------------
Watching the girls practice for their new comeback was seriously the best thing that had ever happened to you, you thought as you sat in a corner of the dance studio with the dogs. You’d taken a liking to each other, and Kuma was lounging comfortably in your lap while Dalgom sat next to you, whining every time you stopped petting him.
Their comeback song was really catchy too – Teddy had really outdone himself this time, and you couldn’t wait for their comeback. It was so different, though, seeing all the behind-the-scenes prep for everything before the final product, and it gave you a way better understanding of how hard the girls actually worked.
Jennie’s skin tasted different, too, during and after dance practice, which was something you probably should have expected, but it didn’t occur to you until after she’d settled on your face, her thighs bracketing your face. Since you couldn’t bring her chair around with you, for obvious reasons, the two of you had had to figure out a more minimalist way of doing this while you were out of the house.
Since there were so many prominent people in YG, almost every room had some facilities to cater to recyclers, like a screen for privacy. It meant that Jennie didn’t have to spend as much time going to the bathroom down the hall, which did make them more efficient, because she had to pee all the time, but since the other girls didn’t have recyclers, it didn’t really help that much.
Still, it was nice taking breaks to feed you her piss. You always smiled at her, and had sweet words of encouragement, telling her she was doing a good job even if it didn’t feel like it. It was almost worrying how much she was coming to depend on you, not just for her physical needs, but for your companionship and emotional support as well.
Plus, having you lick her clean sent a little thrill down her spine every time, and that definitely helped to cheer her up. Although she shied away from thinking of it as an erotic act, it did feel a lot like unconditional acceptance, especially when she knew she was sweaty. You never even made a face, easily going with the flow (pun unintended).
It wasn’t uncommon for recyclers to form close bonds with their donators, Jennie knew. YG had many donators among its ranks – TOP from Big Bang had adopted one after he cleaned up his act enough that the Bureau considered him eligible, and his recycler, who’d been with him for three years now, was doing a remarkable job at keeping him on the straight and narrow. Being so directly responsible for someone else’s welfare had really made him more careful with his own body.
When the girls declared that it was time for a lunch break, you tagged along with them to the cafeteria. The food at the YG cafeteria was famously delicious, and you always enjoyed eating there. Plus, you got to see the trainees, idols and actors come and go, which was always fun, even if you sometimes had trouble not staring.
After lunch, the girls were going their separate ways – Jennie had to work on her solo album, Lisa was going to work on a dance collaboration, Jisoo was going to film for her new drama and Chaeyoung was off to an event. After waving goodbye to the other girls, you followed Jennie to the recording studio.
Seeing that you were alone there since you were a bit early, Jennie took the opportunity to ask you about her conversation with Chaeyoung earlier. Sitting you down on the couch, she rolled a desk chair over so she could sit facing you.
“Chaeng asked if she could try, uh…” Really, she thought, it was ridiculous how much difficulty she had talking about when it had become such a significant part of her life.
Fortunately, you remembered your conversation with Chaeyoung last night, and understood what she was trying to say immediately. “Uh-huh?” you nodded, looking at her attentively.
“She said you were okay with it, but I just wanted to check if you’re really okay. I mean, you don’t have to feel like you have to just because she’s my friend and all, and if you don’t want to I can tell her no—” Jennie was starting to ramble, so caught up in assuring you that you didn’t have to feel forced into anything because of your position in the household.
“No, I was okay with it,” you cut her off with wide eyes. “I was the one who offered. Is that what you were talking about this morning?” Come to think of it, Chaeyoung had left the kitchen in such a good mood this morning that you should have realized that something was up. You’d been playing with Lisa’s cats, though, so you hadn’t given it much thought.
“Yeah, she asked me about it in the kitchen,” Jennie confirmed. “I just wanted to check if you were okay with it.”
“Yeah, I don’t mind,” you said with a smile. “Oh, unless you mind,” the thought came to you suddenly. “I’ll tell her no if you don’t like it!” you rushed to assure her. You hadn’t even considered that she might have a problem with it when you opened your big mouth (again, pun unintended).
“No, no! I don’t mind. You can do whatever you’d like, of course. I won’t stop you.”
“Oh… okay. Great!” you said slightly awkwardly, not sure what else to say in this situation. Thankfully, Teddy entered the room and saved you from having to say any more.
-----------------------------------
Based on the way Chaeyoung was staring at you over dinner, you were pretty sure Jennie had already green-lighted things with her. The anticipation in her gaze was almost disconcerting in its intensity, but truth be told you were kind of flattered that she was so excited about it. Jennie had a boyfriend, so you knew that this act was nothing sexual for her, but you’d learned during your time preparing to be a recycler that for many donators, having someone consume their urine directly from the source was often an intensely sexual experience.
From Chaeyoung’s almost predatory gaze, you were fairly sure she was one of those people. Still, she hadn’t said anything to you about it, so you figured she would probably just do it and then dismiss you to take care of herself.
After dinner, you all brought your dishes back to the bucket your delivery had arrived in and left it outside the door for the delivery person to retrieve. Usually all of you went back to your rooms after dinner, but tonight, as you were about to follow Jennie back into the room you now shared, Chaeyoung grabbed your hand.
You turned, your eyes following the hand clasped around yours to the determined gaze of the girl who owned it. Biting your lip, you nodded and followed her into her room instead. As you disappeared into Chaeyoung’s room, you didn’t notice Jennie watching you.
Even though you’d been living here for a few weeks now and had seen Chaeyoung’s room from the outside, you’d never set foot in it, since there hadn’t been a reason for you to up till today. As she shut the door behind you, you stood awkwardly, wringing your hands and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.
Chaeyoung, on the other hand, was way too excited to feel nervous, and giggled as she pulled your hands apart by grabbing one of your wrists. “Come on,” she beckoned, drawing you closer to her.
“How do you want me to do this?” you asked. Her excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but smile back at her. You were quickly learning that there was a part of you that loved to please others.
“How do you usually do it with unnie?” She responded with another question, and you blinked at her in surprise. Somehow, you’d been expecting her to already know what she wanted – after all, she was the one who’d been so enthusiastic about this.
“Uh, you remember that new chair that was delivered?” When she nodded, you continued, “She usually sits in it and, uh, it’s a special chair so I can rest under it…”
“Right,” Chaeyoung looked around her room thoughtfully, then frowned. “I don’t think I have anything that would serve the same function.”
“Oh, you don’t have to have anything like that,” you rushed to reassure her. “I mean, it’s not like there’s a chair in the studio or anything.”
“That’s true.” She perked up at that. “So how do you usually do it?”
“Well…” you knelt down and looked up at her. “Usually she stands over me, or if we’re at the studio she sits on the couch and I kneel in front of her.” Jennie had taken to the first position you’d shown her, even after you’d tried out all the different ones the Bureau had suggested to find the ones you liked best.
“Hmm,” Chaeyoung hummed. “This doesn’t seem that comfortable, though.”
Eventually, you managed to figure something out – you sat with your back against her bed, your head resting on the mattress, while she knelt on it, hovering over your face. As she looked down at you, sandwiched between her knees, she smirked, an expression that had you clenching involuntarily. This was new, you noted with some surprise.
“You ready?” she cooed, so like the sweet, thoughtful woman you’d gotten to know and like over the past two weeks, but also different somehow, confident and enticing. Entranced by this new side of her, you nodded, opening your mouth under her pussy.
“Good girl,” she praised, smiling down at you. She was holding her shirt up slightly so she could see your face more clearly, and she let out a sigh of relief as she relaxed her pelvic muscles, starting to pee. It missed your mouth at first, landing on your forehead, and she let out a giggled “Oops!” as she readjusted herself so that she was peeing into your mouth.
You’d offered to do what you did with Jennie to minimize mess, pressing your mouth to her, but she’d declined, and now you realized why. She enjoyed the visual of the urine descending the short distance from her pussy to your mouth, relished in the power to soak your whole face if she wanted. Your eyes were focused on her core, which was still gushing, but you could hear her sighs and whispered praises.
When the stream dwindled and eventually stopped, Chaeyoung sighed like she was disappointed – and she was. She’d been holding it for hours, since lunchtime, in anticipation for tonight, and it had been over so fast. This experience had been everything she’d dreamed it would be, and she was only sad that it had ended. She had no expectation that this would be anything other than a one-time thing, since the way she’d asked you, it had seemed like a research experience.
However, you weren’t done yet. There was still the cleanup process, so you lifted your hands to her bare hips and pulled her down gently onto your face. This time, she looked down at you with some surprise, and you returned her earlier smirk right before you dragged your tongue up her slit.
“Mmm, God,” she gasped, shuddering as you continued licking her clean. “What the hell are you doing?”
Now done, you licked your lips and grinned at her. “Cleanup,” you replied in a matter-of-factly tone. “I do it all the time for Jennie-unnie too.”
“No wonder she looks so pleased all the time now,” Chaeyoung grumbled jealously, and you giggled. It hadn’t escaped your notice while cleaning her that she was wet too, her slick possessing a markedly different flavor from her piss. You weren’t that naïve, and if she was amenable, you were more than happy to help her with that too.
After all, you had Rosé of Blackpink sitting on your face right now. Who were you to throw away such an opportunity?
“I want to please you too, unnie,” you cooed, batting your lashes at her. You were somewhat surprised at where all this bravado was coming from, but she seemed to enjoy it, so you were rolling with it too.
“Ugh, you’re so sweet, who taught you to say such sweet things?” she asked.
“I’m just being honest,” you responded coquettishly before sliding your tongue through her folds again.
Chaeyoung moaned, throwing her head back luxuriantly as she widened her stance to lower herself further down on your face. “Such a good girl,” she praised, starting to rock her hips back and forth, sliding herself over your tongue.
You’d never done this before, so your movements were a little clumsy, but your sheer enthusiasm more than made up for it, as you licked and sucked at her, letting her grind down on your face as she pleased.
“Stick your tongue out for me, sweetie,” she prompted, smiling down at you when you did. She fucked herself on your tongue, sliding along it until it bumped her clit, then sinking down on it. Your tongue was inside her now, and her clit bumped against your nose. All you could smell and taste was her, and when she looked down at you, she could only see your eyes since her pussy was firmly planted on the rest of your face.
“You look so pretty like that,” she said before continuing to fuck herself on your face, her movements growing faster and choppier as she chased her orgasm. Breathy moans and gasps spilled from her lips, increasing in volume and frequency as she grew closer. “Mmf, fuck, you’re so good at this,” she cried out a second before she ground herself down harder on your face, uncaring of your need to breathe as she came.
Her sloppy movements smeared her slick all over your face and in your mouth, and when she finally lifted herself off you, you took a deep breath before grinning cheekily up at her and making a show of licking your lips. “Did you enjoy that, unnie?” you asked, and she huffed out a breathless laugh as she shuffled out of that position straddling your face and lay back against her pillows.
“You know I did,” she teased. “Now come here, I want to return the favour,” she demanded.
Immediately, your head came up off the bed and you turned yourself around so you were kneeling on the ground, facing her. “Oh, uh, no, you don’t have to, I—”
She rolled her eyes. “Come here,” she ordered, holding her hand out to you, and you had no choice but to let her pull you close. She tugged so hard you ended up falling into the pillows next to her and knocking the wind out of your lungs. You squirmed around a little so that your head was resting on her shoulder as you looked up at her.
“If you don’t want me to, that’s fine, but I really want to,” she said in a low voice. “I want to see how wet you are from eating me out so good, Y/n-ie, and make you cum all over my fingers.”
Her words had you squirming, and you breathlessly agreed. She guided you into a kneeling position so that you were straddling her hips, then dipped her hand into your shorts, her fingers ghosting over your clit. At the same time, her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you down to her.
“Do you like that?” she whispered against your lips as you shuddered. No one else had ever touched you before, and all of this was new to you. You nodded silently, biting your lip to hold back a whimper.
“Good girl, such a good girl for me,” she praised as her fingers slipped into your panties. “And so wet,” she exclaimed with delight. Dipping her fingers into your folds to collect some slick, she then started circling around your clit with slippery fingers. In response, your head fell onto her shoulder as you held on to her tightly.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this,” she continued with her filthy litany as she started fucking you with her fingers, letting you grind your clit on the heel of her hand. You let out a moan as you rocked your hips, feeling everything get wetter as you grew more aroused.
“Unnie, please—” you whispered, not knowing exactly what you were asking for. She knew, though, and sped up the movements of her hand.
“Are you going to cum for me? That’s right, sweet thing, cum all over my hand like a good girl,” she purred. Helplessly, you pushed your clit further into her hand and ground it in, shuddering as you came like she asked you to. She continued to work you through your orgasm, only withdrawing when you grew too sensitive.
Seeing how shiny her fingers were from the thick coating of slick on them, you flushed, but she just winked at you as she popped them into her mouth. “Delicious,” she commented, smacking her lips.
You giggled, her nonchalant attitude making it less awkward than you’d imagined it would be after everything that had just transpired. “Likewise,” you murmured, ducking back in for another kiss.
After staying there for about ten more minutes, trading kisses and flirtatious remarks, you figured it was time to go back to Jennie’s room and you said as much, slipping out of Chaeyoung’s embrace and off the bed.
“All right,” she acquiesced when you told her, yawning as she lay back in her pillows. “It was a good time, though. Do you wanna do it again sometime?”
Your hand on the doorknob, you turned to wink at her. “Definitely,” you said before leaving the room.
Jennie was sitting on her bed, flipping through a magazine, when you entered, and she looked up to smile at you. “Did everything go okay?” she asked, her expression completely neutral. She knew, of course, what had just happened between the two of you. You’d been gone way too long to have just drank her piss, and the walls weren’t soundproof. She didn’t mind, but just wanted to make sure that you hadn’t been coerced into anything.
“Yeah,” you replied with a bright smile, putting her at ease.
“Good.” She stood up and started walking over to the chair. You were familiar enough with each other now that she didn’t need to say anything; you got it immediately, rushing over and kneeling on the ground to help her with her clothes, then maneuvering yourself under the chair. In light of your new experience with Chaeyoung, however, this act took a different light now.
You weren’t stupid or blind; you’d known all along that Jennie was gorgeous, and you’d been a fan of Blackpink for years before you came to live with them. You just hadn’t thought about this act in a sexual light because you knew that it wasn’t really sexual for Jennie, and you didn’t want to be that creepy weirdo. Plus, learning about the technicalities of it all in the Bureau for years kind of sucked all the joy out of it.
Jennie sat down on your face, wriggling slightly to get into the position that was the most comfortable for her. From her vantage point, the only part of your face she could see was your chin, and she wondered if this was how Chaeyoung had done it too. Not that it was any of her business, of course.
Your mouth stretched open under her, and she relaxed with a sigh, listening to the hissing sound of the pee leaving her body and the quiet noises of you swallowing. You usually held on to the edges of the seat, and today she stroked her fingers across yours. Taking the cue, you released the seat, letting her guide your hands to cling to her thighs instead.
When she was done, you licked her clean as usual, but this time you couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt to eat Chaeyoung out until she came, and you found yourself getting a little cheeky, sliding your tongue along Jennie’s slit a little slower and deeper than usual, flicking her clit just once before you closed your mouth.
Jennie, however, didn’t seem to react, standing up looking completely composed and turning to smile down at you. You helped her fix her clothes then went to take a shower, washing Chaeyoung off your face.
Once you were gone, Jennie let out the breath she’d been holding in a long exhale, lying on the bed looking up at the ceiling. She was pretty sure that had been accidental, but boy had it felt good.
-------------------------------------
It was only a couple of nights later that Jennie took you to meet Kai. She figured there was no time like the present – plus, given her reaction to what was no doubt an accident on your part, Kai needed to take his conjugal duties more seriously.
Tonight, the three of you were in the private apartment he’d bought. He still lived with the rest of his members in their dorm, but most of them had investment properties. It was handy when they needed their own space, like tonight.
In all honesty though, you weren’t sure how you felt about Kai. Sure, he was handsome and famous and you’d been a little starstruck at first, but the way he was talking to you and looking at you was making you feel a little uncomfortable. It was difficult to put your finger on it, but when he looked at you, you wanted to curl up into a ball and hide. He was just asking way too many personal, intimate questions about your experience as Jennie’s recycler.
Now that dinner was over, you were all sitting in the living room, and you were seated next to Jennie on the couch, half-curled into her, automatically seeking her protection. She too had noticed that Kai was looking at you kind of strangely all through dinner, but didn’t know what was up with him.
“So, Y/n-ie…” he said, leaning forward. You turned from Jennie to face him. “Have you enjoyed being with my Jennie?”
You looked back towards Jennie uncertainly, slightly confused about what he was asking. “Uh, yeah,” you replied when you turned back to look at him. “Jennie-unnie’s been really nice, and the other Blackpink unnies have been nice too.”
“I’m sure they’ve been,” he brushed off your answer patronizingly, “but what I mean is, have you enjoyed being with her?”
Your eyes widened and you looked at Jennie again, this time begging her to intervene. Sensing your distress, she squeezed your leg. “Oppa, Y/n-ie doesn’t understand your question, and neither do I,” she said slightly sharply.
Instead of taking the warning, Kai laughed it off. “I’m just curious, you know?” he said with a shrug. “You can’t blame me. I bet she’s closer to you than I am.”
At your clear discomfort, Jennie changed the topic and Kai didn’t turn the conversation back around to you again, not wanting to jeopardize his chances of getting lucky tonight. Eventually, he invited Jennie to the bedroom with a flimsy excuse – “please come help me with something in the bedroom” – and you remained on the couch, reading the book you’d brought with you and listening to music with the noise-cancelling headphones Jennie had specifically gotten for you while they were occupied.
After they were done, Jennie came out of the room since she had to pee. (What? It’s good to pee after sex, okay?) Since Kai was still in the bedroom, she figured it would be comfortable enough to do it on the couch, and you easily acquiesced, getting into the position you both preferred.
This time, however, when you pressed your mouth to her, Kai’s cum dripped out, thick, salty and altogether unpleasant. You tried to school your features, but even though you hadn’t been together for that long you’d made up for that with the sheer amount of time you spent together each day, and Jennie caught the grimace in the instant before you hid it.
Still, she figured, she could talk to you about it later but right now she really had to pee, so she just started going in your mouth. You were pretty much an expert at this time, so you sucked it down without any problem, but because you really didn’t want Kai’s cum to be the taste lingering on your tongue later, you licked her clean perfunctorily, avoiding her slit as much as possible.
When you were done, you pulled away quickly, hiding your distaste – or so you thought – by smiling sweetly up at Jennie, the way you usually did. “All clean,” you chirped at her.
Attempting to hide her unease, she smiled back at you before heading back to the bedroom.
Kai was still lounging in bed, his arms folded behind his head as he smiled lazily at her. He was supremely confident of his own body – and, of course, why wouldn’t he be? He looked like an Adonis. “Come back to bed, sweetie.”
Jennie, of course, was more than happy to acquiesce. She lay back down next to him and let him cuddle her close, resting her head on his shoulder. “Jennie-yah… I want to ask you something.”
“Hmm?” she said, only half-paying attention. Her eyes were sliding shut.
“Is it nice to pee in someone else’s mouth?”
Opening her eyes, she adjusted her position to look him more fully in the eye. “Everyone keeps asking me that,” she muttered. “Is everyone really so curious about it?”
He shrugged, jostling her slightly. “It is a pretty big lifestyle change,” he pointed out.
“It’s all right, I guess.” For some reason, she didn’t feel entirely comfortable talking to him about it.
Bending to kiss her temple, he said, “I’m lucky to have you.”
Jennie smiled, bemused. “Not that I’m disagreeing, but why?” she asked lightly.
“Well, you’ll let me use her too, won’t you?”
She frowned, sitting up. “I’ll let you?”
“Yeah, I mean, you let Chaeyoung-ssi use her.” He still looked nonchalant about it, like he fully expected her to agree with him.
“Oppa, Y/n-ie was the one who agreed to that. I can ask her, if you really want to.”
To Jennie’s shock, he started looking really pouty and put out, like she’d done something to offend him. “Okay… yeah, will you please ask her for me?” he finally asked.
“All right,” she accepted, hoping that he would drop the topic. The atmosphere remained somewhat tense though, like he was still upset about it, and when she left with you, he was still sulking.
----------------------------------
Jennie had worried that your experience with Kai might affect your relationship with her, especially after you’d seemed to reluctant to drink from her after she’d slept with him the other night. Thankfully, by the next morning you seemed to be back to normal, enthusiastic and conscientious when she had her morning piss.
She was so relieved (ha) that you weren’t mad at her, and so reluctant to say anything that might exacerbate the situation, that it wasn’t until almost a week later that Jennie tried to broach the topic of Kai’s request. She didn’t really want to, because it seemed like you weren’t the biggest fan of him, but she’d promised. She made sure to wait till it seemed like you were in a good mood, when the memory of Kai’s weirdness wasn’t quite so fresh in your mind.
You were already in bed when she brought it up, and she was sitting at the dresser applying her skincare. “Y/n-ah…” she started.
“Hmm?” You were starting to fall asleep, half-listening and half-floating in space.
“What do you think of Kai?”
Your eyes snapped open, suddenly awake. “He’s all right, I guess,” you said politely, not wanting to upset her.
“Okay,” she accepted, and you sat in silence for a moment longer. “Would you… be willing to lend him your mouth?” she finally asked.
Your immediate instinct was to reject the request – vehemently at that, while making a disgusted face, but the tentative expression on her face gave you pause. “Do you want me to?” you asked instead. You thought she might want you to do this as a favour for her even if you didn’t want to since Kai was her boyfriend, after all, and her approach to this might be different from how she’d treated Chaeyoung’s request.
“Well, he wanted me to ask, but I won’t force you,” she said carefully.
“But will it damage your relationship if I don’t?” You picked up easily on the silent tension. As much as you felt uncomfortable around Kai, he was Jennie’s boyfriend, and you didn’t want to sabotage it. If you had to, you supposed you could do it. Just once, as a favour.
Jennie, of course, understood immediately what you were trying to say. “That’s not your responsibility,” she said firmly. “If you don’t want to do it, it’s fine. I’m not going to force you or guilt you. Anything that happens to my relationship with Jongin-oppa is ours to deal with.”
After mulling over it for a moment, you gave her your answer. “Then I don’t want to,” you said, shrugging. “Sorry, unnie, but I don’t feel great about Jongin-ssi.”
“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” she muttered. “He was kind of weird the other night. I’ll talk to him about it, and try to find out why.” He wasn’t usually like this around people, years of idol training and living with others giving him great people skills most of the time. A conversation seemed necessary if she was going to keep the both of you in her life.
With her skincare routine done by the end of the conversation, she got into bed next to you and turned out the lights.
“Good night, unnie,” you mumbled, squirming closer to her for cuddles, which she gladly gave you.
-----------------------------------
Since you had expressed discomfort about being around Kai, and she knew you being around would only make him more insistent on ‘trying you out’, as he put it, she decided to go on dates with him without bringing you. This decision had a few implications – first, you ended up spending a lot more time separately, which meant you were hanging out with the other girls a lot more; second, Jennie’s dates with Kai grew shorter than they had been before since now that she was used to peeing in your mouth, she never wanted to go anywhere else.
It was this combination of factors that led to a slight strain in your relationship with her. She didn’t want to say she was jealous, because she wasn’t. She was pleased that you were becoming close with the other girls, especially Chaeyoung. It just stung sometimes. Even when she was home, there were times when you would be hanging out with the others instead of her, and you were less clingy too. Some people might think that was a good thing, but in all honesty, she’d liked clingy.
As your relationship with the other girls – and your friends-with-benefits thing with Chaeyoung – flourished, it seemed like Jennie’s with Kai was headed in the opposite direction. Having to rush home after sex because she didn’t want to use his toilet was becoming somewhat of a sore point, especially since she refused to bring you to their dates. He’d also thrown a fit when she told him you didn’t want to drink him, and it had led to one of their only fights throughout the entire duration of their relationship.
“Hey, did you ask Y/n yet?” he’d prompted almost the second she got into his car.
Jennie looked at him askance. The most perfunctory greeting kiss ever, and now this? What was with this obsession? “Yeah, she didn’t seem into it,” she said vaguely, hoping that he would take the hint and drop it.
“What?!” he exclaimed instead, sounding furious. Jennie sighed. Okay, it seemed they weren’t going to go the chill, reasonable route.
Turning to look at him, she said, “She doesn’t have to, you know.” Truth be told, she was kind of put off by his attitude. Ever since he’d met you, he’d been acting like this was owed to him. Just because she had a recycler didn’t mean she was obliged to share it with anyone.
“Yeah, but you let Chaeyoung-ssi use it,” he pointed out. “I’m your boyfriend; shouldn’t I get the same rights?”
She raised a brow. “Rights?” she asked. “Chaeyoung doesn’t have a right to use Y/n’s mouth as she pleases, you know. Y/n is very much a willing participant,” she said, slightly bitterly. Okay, maybe she was slightly put out by your blossoming relationship with her dongsaeng.
“You know what I mean,” he grumbled. “You could just make her do it.”
“Make her? I don’t make my recycler do anything she wants to do. She’s not my slave,” Jennie pointed out.
“That’s not what I meant! You’re always twisting my words!”
Needless to say, that night had not gone well. Kai was still slightly sulky about it, sometimes making snide remarks about you. Truth be told, this side of him was not one she’d seen before, and she didn’t like it. Even though recycler rights were sometimes controversial, among their circles most people agreed that recyclers deserved the same rights of freedom of choice as the general population. Kai’s revelation that he was apparently not one of them was turning out to be a problem, because she now felt responsible for protecting you from him.
She hoped that tonight’s date would go better, since they’d declared a moratorium on talking about you. All day, though, she’d had to endure the giggles and sidelong glances you’d shared with Chaeyoung, and she was pretty sure you were going to be up to no good while she was gone.
She was right. You saw her off graciously as always, giving her a hug at the front door and telling her you hoped she had a good time with Kai tonight, and that you would be waiting for her. The moment she left, though, you ran through the apartment straight into Chaeyoung’s room.
“Unnie!” you cried excitedly, throwing yourself on the bed so enthusiastically that you bounced.
Chaeyoung smiled at you. You weren’t dating, but you weren’t quite friends either, and she’d definitely grown very fond of you (and your mouth) over the couple of months that you’d been living in the dorm with her. Whenever Jennie was out without you, you’d come hang out with her, and by this point you had a pretty nice routine: you’d get delivery, then maybe watch a movie with the others before retiring back to her bedroom.
Tonight wasn’t any different, and you found yourself in the living room, eating fried chicken with the others while watching a movie. Chaeyoung was drinking a lot more water than usual, looking meaningfully over at you every time she reached for her glass. You knew this was in preparation for later, so you winked back at her every time.
All this flirting wasn’t lost on Lisa and Jisoo, and by the time the movie ended, the two of them grumbled good-naturedly about how they didn’t need to see all of this as they went back to their bedrooms. You and Chaeyoung giggled together as you bade them good night, knowing that they didn’t really mind it and were just teasing.
Once you were alone, Chaeyoung immediately took your hand and pulled you closer to her, going in for a kiss as your bodies collided. You slid your hands along her hips, groping her ass shamelessly.
“Mmm, we should probably take this back to my room before we get in trouble again for leaving fluids all over the living room,” she breathed against your lips. You couldn’t agree more and let her drag you into her room by your hand.
“Strip,” she ordered once the door was shut, already following her own instructions. You laughed at her enthusiasm even though you knew you would pay for it later, pulling your shirt over your head and shucking your shorts and underwear in one fell swoop. She did the same, and almost lunged for you.
“A little eager, aren’t we?” you teased even as you lay back on the bed.
“Shut up,” she growled. “I have to pee so bad, you don’t even know.”
“You were the one drinking all that water earlier,” you pointed out as she straddled your face. She was facing your body, so your face was basically in her butt. Not that you minded. It was a very pretty butt indeed. You wanted to squeeze it some more, but she was kneeling so that her legs were resting on your shoulders, restricting your movement.
“Don’t act like you don’t love drinking my piss,” she said, sounding strained as she looked down at you between her legs.
You winked at her from the gap between her thighs. “How could I even pretend? You’re so thoughtful, making all that delicious piss for me…” you breathed, a moment before she started peeing.
The first bit of it missed and glanced off your cheek, but you knew now that it was intentional. She loved watching the way her stream found its way into your mouth after first landing on your face somewhere, and you didn’t really mind either. The stream of dirty talk that she kept up the whole time was getting to you, and even as you gulped down her piss, your hips were rocking into the mattress slightly, seeking out that little bit of stimulation.
Chaeyoung noticed and leaned forward to pull your legs apart, which caused her pee to splash against your forehead instead. You made a noise of protest and she readjusted with a giggle, sinking a little lower so that her pussy was closer to your face.
“Mmm, it feels so good to pee for you, sweetie,” Chaeyoung groaned as the last of her urine dripped out.
“I’m glad you enjoy it, unnie,” you giggled. She widened her stance further to lower her pussy to you, and you eagerly started lapping at it. Meanwhile, she was holding your legs open and licked a broad stripe down your slit, from your clit to your tight, clenching hole.
“Mmf—” you let out a muffled groan into her slick flesh. She’d never done this before, and you were a huge fan. No wonder she got so crazy when you’d licked her for the first time.
You were busily eating each other to orgasm when the door swung open without any warning. At first, neither of you paid any heed, until you heard the disgusted exclamation coming from the entrance.
“My God!” Jennie cried out as she opened Chaeyoung’s bedroom door, only to come face to face with a more direct view of her member’s asshole than she’d ever wanted to see. Taking a step back, she turned away. “Y/n-ah, can you come here for a second?” she asked, directing her question at the hallway.
Now aggravated beyond all bearing, you groaned. “Unnie, can this please wait?” Not only were you busy, you really didn’t want to stop what you were doing right now to eat Kai’s creampie.
“No, it can’t,” she snapped, irritated. She’d been holding it since she left, and she needed to pee now. And how dare you talk back to her like that, anyway? Had you forgotten why you were even here to begin with?
“Fine,” you capitulated, sensing that this wasn’t the hill to die on. “Give me a minute, I’ll meet you in your room.”
With that, Jennie stalked off, and you sighed, tapping Chaeyoung’s hip to make her get off. “Sorry, unnie,” you apologized as you got up and started putting your clothes back on.
“It’s all right,” she excused graciously. “She seemed like she was in a mood, though. We might need to take a rain check.”
You pouted back at her as you started walking backwards towards the open door. “I don’t wanna,” you whined. “I’ll be right back?”
“Okay,” she chuckled, and you were on your way.
You arrived in the room you shared with Jennie to see her already pacing impatiently in front of the chair. “Hey, unnie,” you greeted as you sank to your knees to help her strip. You were obviously distracted and in a rush to get back to Chaeyoung, and moved quickly to get under the chair.
As Jennie sat down slowly, she caught a glimpse of your grimace, and anger flared through her, but first she needed to take care of her needs. Perhaps pettily, she sat without care and started peeing even before she was sure that you were in position, causing you to have to squirm under her to prevent a huge mess.
When she was done, you licked her clean as quickly as you could, and she felt a stab of irritation – she refused to acknowledge it as jealousy – that you could eat Chaeyoung out so enthusiastically but were now so reluctant to even clean her up. She stood up and scowled down at you as you got out from under the chair.
“What’s wrong with you today?” she asked snippily. Perhaps not the best way to start this conversation, but she was too angry to care.
You looked up at her in surprise. “Nothing, why?” you asked. If anything, you thought, you should be the one who was annoyed. You didn’t know what it was, but she’d been so eager that she’d started even before you were in the right position, and there was urine all over your face and neck, some even dripping into your hair.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you giving me an attitude,” she accused. “Every time I come back from Kai’s you act like this. I’m sorry if you dislike my boyfriend—” her tone of voice was most decidedly not sorry “—but you’re being so unreasonable! What are you, jealous?”
Your temper flared for the first time since you’d been living here. “Jealous?!” you scoffed. “Of your relationship with that ignorant manchild? I don’t think so. Sorry,” you sneered, turning it back onto her, “that I don’t like to eat Kai’s cum out of your pussy every time you fuck him. I’m your recycler, but I don’t need to be treated like that.”
With that, you stormed off to wash her piss off your face and body from where it had trickled before you’d managed to get your mouth firmly over her. Jennie, on the other hand, lay on the bed, feeling incredibly guilty for blowing up at you just now. She hoped you’d come back soon so that she could have a proper conversation with you about just now.
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You ended up spending the whole night with Chaeyoung. Even though you weren’t exactly in the mood to continue your exploits with her after your fight with Jennie, she was happy to welcome you into her room and gave you lots of cuddles, letting you rant patiently until you wore yourself out and fell asleep.
In the morning, you were still reluctant to leave the room and face Jennie, preferring to continue sulking in Chaeyoung’s bed. Unfortunately, nature called, and she dragged you out of the room for breakfast. You were surprised to see that Jennie was already in the living room, and when she saw you walking out, she immediately stood up and called your name. “Y/n, can we talk?”
Not in the mood to be reamed out again first thing in the morning, you responded coolly. “I’m hungry, can this wait until after breakfast?”
Chaeyoung, standing behind you, nudged you. She could see in Jennie’s expression and body language how much the fight with her recycler had bothered her and felt kind of bad for her even though she did think that Jennie had been out of line in what she’d said to you last night.
“Fine,” you grumbled.
“Thank you,” Jennie said quietly before turning and walking into her room. You followed, closing the door behind you but standing right in front of it.
“Y/n-ie, please,” Jennie pouted at you, patting the bed next to her. Obviously, you couldn’t resist that look, so with a put-upon sigh, you crossed the room to sit next to her.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said. The unexpected apology threw you for a loop, and you blinked at her, speechless. “I shouldn’t have said those things and accused you. That was rude of me.”
“Uhh…” you managed to get out, sounding, of course, like the most articulate genius who had ever roamed this earth.
“And I’m sorry for getting in the way of your, um… relations with Chaeng. I should have been more respectful, and I support your relationship.”
“We’re not in a relationship,” you murmured. It was the only thing your mind could focus on at the moment.
“You’re not?” Jennie blinked.
“No, we’re just, um… friends with benefits, I guess,” you clarified.
“Oh.” Then, after a beat of silence, “Well, it’s none of my business anyway. I just want you to know that I think you deserve your privacy, and I was really rude last night.”
Feeling bad now, you reached over to take her hand. “Unnie, don’t say that. Of course it’s your business. You’re still my donator and I want us to be close too. I promise to be more open about it with you, okay?”
She made a face. “Not that open, I hope. I’m still traumatized from seeing Chaeng naked.”
You giggled. “You’ve lived together for years! You don’t mean to tell me you’ve never seen her naked before?”
“I never had to stare straight up her asshole before,” Jennie countered, causing the both of you to erupt in fits of laughter.
“Duly noted,” you conceded past giggles. “You seemed like you were in a bad mood last night too, unnie. Is everything going okay with you and Kai?” you asked with some concern.
She made a face. “It’s okay. He’s just having trouble adjusting to me having a recycler,” she explained. Last night they’d gotten into yet another argument over you – specifically, over her refusal to simply command you to get on your knees and drink his piss just because he wanted it. She didn’t quite understand why it was so hard for him to accept that you were a person, and she wasn’t about to force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.
Almost against her will, she started comparing Kai to you, even though she knew that was an unwise idea that was sure to have no good consequences. You, who was always there for her with your big eyes and big smile and a hug every time she felt bad, who knew the best and worst parts of her and didn’t shy away. It was unreasonable for her to expect the same of Kai, who was busy all the time with his own career and who obviously wasn’t as comfortable with her body as you were.
“I’m sorry I’m causing problems in your relationship, unnie,” you said, your eyes filled with remorse.
“No, it’s not your fault,” she rushed to assure you, pulling you into a hug. “He’s just being a dick right now.”
“I’m sorry for being mean last night too, unnie,” you apologized, looking at her with those wide, sad eyes that she couldn’t resist.
“It’s okay, baby, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize how unpleasant that whole experience was for you,” she said, making a little face. It hadn’t even occurred to her, but now that she thought about it, she realized how it would have been pretty gross for you, especially if you didn’t particularly like Kai. “I’ll talk to him about it to figure something out, okay?”
Your face was buried in her neck, but she felt your nod anyway.
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Perhaps she should have expected that the demise of her relationship would come soon after she started comparing you with Kai in her head. After all, there was no way he could have won that competition, even if he’d been the nicest man alive – which he definitely wasn’t.
Still, she hadn’t expected her relationship to end quite so soon and so abruptly. Sitting in the driver’s seat of her car in the basement carpark of Kai’s private apartment, she was crying too hard to be able to drive safely.
The night had started relatively well – Kai was on his best behavior after their fight the other night, and they’d had a nice dinner together. After that, however, when they retired to the bedroom, was when things started going downhill. Out of consideration to you, Jennie had brought a box of condoms that she tried to convince Kai to use, and he didn’t take it well, to say the least.
“What is this? Are you accusing me of something? We haven’t used condoms in months!” he said irritably, knocking the box out of her hands.
“Oppa, please, it’s not like that!” she pleaded.
“Then what is it? Are you off birth control?” he demanded.
“No… the IUD is still in,” she said meekly. YG had made them all get them before debut so that they wouldn’t accidentally get pregnant, even if they were having secret relationships.
“Then tell me why!”
“Why does there have to be a reason?! Isn’t it enough that I want you to use them? It’s my body too!” she yelled, getting defensive.
“I’m not saying no, I just want to know why!” he rebutted.
“Fine,” she said, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Y/n doesn’t like it when you leave your load inside me. It drips out after and she doesn’t like how it tastes.” She’d been hoping that the explanation would be enough, and they could get on with their night, but he grew even more angry at hearing the reason.
“Y/n?!” He exploded. “Who the fuck cares what she thinks? She’s your recycler, for God’s sake, not your girlfriend!”
“Oppa, please, she’s still my responsibility and we’re going to be together for a long time! I just don’t want to make her upset!”
“No, you don’t, so you’d rather sacrifice our relationship!”
“Our relationship? Oppa, please be reasonable, it’s just one little thing!”
He stopped short and looked at her somberly. “It’s not,” he told her. “You’re literally putting your recycler above me, above our relationship. You think her happiness is more important than mine.”
“It’s not! Oppa, please!” she begged, tears in her eyes.
“If you insist on the condoms… we’re over, Jennie-yah. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t prioritize me in her life.”
The ultimatum took her aback, and she stared at him with wide eyes for a minute, silently begging him to take it back, to explain that he’d just said that in the heat of the moment, and he didn’t actually want to end their relationship. But he didn’t, sitting down heavily on the bed instead and looking away from her.
Sadly, she began to collect her things from the room. “I didn’t want it to end like this, oppa,” she said softly.
“I know.” That was the last thing he said before she left.
With her vision still blurry from the tears, Jennie fumbled in her bag in the passenger seat to get her phone. She needed to hear your voice.
“Hello?” You picked up almost immediately, having had your phone next to you while you ate with Chaeyoung and Jisoo. Lisa was at the studio again practicing for a dance shoot. “Unnie? What’s up?”
Jennie sniffled. Hearing that, your mind shot into overdrive. “Unnie? Are you okay? Are you crying? Where are you?”
Right. Words were necessary. “We broke up,” was all she could say, though.
It was enough. You stood up so quickly that both Jisoo and Chaeyoung looked over with concern. “What? Are you still at his place?”
Jennie nodded, then realized you couldn’t see it. “Carpark,” she confirmed. “Can’t drive.”
“Okay, you just wait there, okay, unnie? We’ll come get you,” you assured her.
“Okay,” she sniffled, but didn’t want to hang up. “Y/n-ie? Can you stay on the phone?”
“Of course,” you promised. “Just give me a sec, okay?” She put the phone down and quickly explained what was going on to Jisoo and Chaeyoung, then the three of them got up and drove over to Kai’s apartment complex. On the way, you stayed on the phone with Jennie, continuing to talk to her about nothing while she just listened, letting you distract her.
You had some trouble with the security at the building, since of course they weren’t about to let some random people into the apartment complex, but since both Chaeyoung and Jisoo were in the car, they figured nothing bad could happen and finally let you in after you promised that you were just there to pick up someone.
It wasn’t difficult to spot Jennie’s car in the parking lot, since it was fairly empty, and you got out of the car and sprinted to her, pulling open the door on the driver’s side and peering in. Jennie was hunched forward, her hands grasping the top of the steering wheel and her forehead resting on her hands, and she turned to look up at you when she heard the door open.
“Y/n-ie—” she managed to get out, before bursting into tears again.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, leaning in to give her an awkward hug and stroking her back. “Let’s get into the backseat, okay? Jisoo-unnie can drive your car home.”
Sniffling, Jennie nodded, climbing out of the driver’s seat and into the back. You followed after her, shutting the door, and Jennie immediately lay down with her head in your lap.
As you stroked her hair, Jisoo got into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine, starting the drive home. Chaeyoung followed in her own car.
Jennie continued crying for a while, then seemed to fall into a light doze while you draped your arm around her. You had to wake her up to get her back into the apartment, but you hadn’t let go of her the entire time, offering support and physical comfort where words failed you.
------------------------------------
Over the next few days, all the girls seemed to coalesce around Jennie, giving her hugs and making sure she was eating and drinking. The difficult part about being an idol was that even though she felt like shit about her breakup, she still had to go to fan meetings, interviews and events, acting like she was happy and chipper and that nothing was wrong.
It was during those times that she sought your support the most. You were always there in the wings or in the audience, milling around with the staff and sending her encouraging smiles and gestures whenever you saw her looking at you. During breaks and between commitments, you would always be by her side, holding her hand or giving her cute hugs and telling her what a great job she was doing.
Even as time passed and she started to get better, she continued to rely on your encouragement, which you eagerly gave. Your relationship grew closer than ever, and Jennie would have been pleased if she hadn’t been so confused. She’d initially wanted a recycler for the sisterly relationship she thought she could foster, but even though you were doing all the things she’d expected and hoped for, she didn’t think of you as a sister.
Instead, she found herself looking at you while you were doing other things, admiring the way your lashes rested against your cheekbones and the focused furrow of your brow. The times of day when she would seek you out because she had to pee became her favourite, purely because she had your entire attention.
Okay, that was a lie. She was starting to love the inherent eroticism of the act, even though that had never been something she’d considered before. The feeling of your lips caressing her slit, your eyes looking up at her with such joy and devotion even as she was peeing in your mouth, the conscientious way you always licked her clean after… she hoped you weren’t noticing the way she would bite her lip when she felt your ministrations on her.
Once, on a really hard day when she’d been at an awards show that included EXO, you’d been extra sweet to her when she decided she couldn’t take it and excused herself to go to the restroom. You’d found her in a deserted corridor, pacing around with her hands on her hips.
“Unnie?” you called, skipping over to her. “You okay?”
“Oh,” she relaxed as she looked up and saw you. “Yeah, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a little stressed out from everything.”
Reaching her, you gave her a hug that she gratefully sank into. “I’m sorry, unnie. Just a little longer, okay? Fighting!”
Pulling back to look her in the face, you were surprised when she instead leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re always so good to me, Y/n-ie.”
You giggled bashfully. “It’s the least I could do, unnie. You’re always so thoughtful of me! I just want to make you happy too.”
Your cuteness made her want to hug you more tightly, but the urgent needs of her body had to take precedence for now. She let you go and pulled back, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Stress drinking water was really not the way to go when at an awards show, she admonished herself.
“You look like you’re in a bit of a state there, unnie,” you teased even as you dropped to your knees in front of her.
“Oh, shut up,” she groaned, leaning against the wall and throwing her head back as you pulled her panties and safety shorts down. The short dress she was wearing may look impractical, but it was actually immensely helpful for situations such as this.
“It’s okay, unnie,” you soothed as you stroked her hip, shuffling closer. “I’ve got you,” you said right before pressing your lips to her pussy, your mouth open to catch her urine.
The feeling of your soft, warm lips on her pussy and the tender, reassuring words you said right before you put them there was almost too much for Jennie, and she had to close her eyes to regain composure before she did something ridiculous like try to grind her clit against your face. Focus, she reminded herself sternly. She wasn’t going to be one of those donators who exploited her recycler, someone who was in a position completely dependent on her.
By this point, peeing in your mouth was as natural to Jennie as using a toilet had been in the past, and it didn’t take any effort at all for her to start the stream. She let out a big sigh of relief as pee started jetting out of her. She’d really had to go, and the feeling of letting it out was almost euphoric, making her shudder with how good it felt.
Your gaze drifted up to her face, her brow slightly furrowed and her mouth open as she continued peeing in your mouth. You were gulping it down as quickly as possible, trying desperately to keep up with her stream, but you couldn’t help but notice how sexy she looked like that. You could almost imagine her making that face for a different reason, and slightly embarrassed at the direction that your thoughts had taken, you lowered your gaze once again.
As you did so, Jennie opened her eyes and looked down at you, struck by the view. You looked completely focused on your task of drinking the pee she’d held in her body for so many hours. Was there a purer expression of devotion, of care, than this? The last of her pee drained out of her into your mouth, and you smiled up at her before licking her clean.
This time, you took extra care to get every bit, swirling your tongue gently as you lapped at her core. When you were done, you pressed tender, wet kisses to either side of her, then one directly over her clit, gazing up at her as you did so. She definitely deserved a little bit more love today. Kai had been staring at her the entire time, and you knew she was stressed.
When you were done, you helped her back into her clothes silently. “Shall we head back, unnie?” you asked with a smile.
“You go ahead,” she demurred. “I need a minute before I can go back in there.” She intentionally phrased it so you’d think she was talking about Kai, and you squeezed her arm sympathetically before leaving her, licking your lips clean as you went.
When she thought about what she’d done next instead, she still flushed. Instead of cooling off, she all but ran into the restroom down the hall, a room she’d honestly thought she’d never have to set foot in again, and had her hand in her panties the moment the stall door clanged shut. With one hand frigging herself desperately and the other covering her mouth to make sure no errant noises escaped, she brought herself to a hasty, unfulfilling orgasm. It didn’t matter, though. It was enough to cool her blood for the time being.
After washing her hands and cleaning up, Jennie returned to the awards ceremony, where Jisoo immediately draped an arm around her shoulders and started stroking her hair comfortingly. You must have told the other girls that she’d been having a hard time with Kai here, she thought. She appreciated your concern, but it really made things all the more awkward for her when instead of freaking out about it, she’d been off masturbating to the thought of you drinking her piss and eating her out.
The situation eventually grew more serious, to the point that Jennie was sure she was doing a piss-poor (ha) job at keeping it a secret. How was she supposed to get her head on straight when you literally had your mouth on her cunt multiple times every day?
---------------------------------
You could, in fact, confirm that Jennie wasn’t keeping her growing attraction to you under wraps. It wasn’t her fault – she couldn’t exactly help the fact that she was often wet when you got on your knees from her. You could literally see the arousal shining on her pussy before she covered your face with it, and the way the slick smeared on your face was kind of a dead giveaway.
Still, you didn’t say or do anything because you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, trusting that she would speak up if she wanted to. It would only make things awkward if you pushed her before she was ready. After all, if she turned you down or denied it, you’d still be stuck to her 24/7, for the foreseeable future.
No, it was better for things to remain the way things were, you determined.
Despite your better judgement, however, you were still a little shit at heart and took pleasure in riling Jennie up and possibly hinting to her that you’d be open to a development in your relationship. You were getting increasingly bold with the liberties you took under the guise of ‘cleaning her’, sometimes even giving her clit a naughty little suck just to ‘get it all out’, or sliding your tongue so deep along her slit that you could taste her arousal.
She never broke though, even though you could feel the minute movements sometimes as she rocked her hips slightly in response to your ministrations, and she often ran off right after getting up off your face, probably to masturbate somewhere. Every time she did, you’d sigh and lick your lips clean, wishing she would let you help with that too.
Chaeyoung, predictably enough, found the whole thing hilarious. Having a front-row seat to your mutual crushes on each other was seriously top-notch entertainment, she thought, especially since you were both so utterly oblivious about your feelings. As your feelings for Jennie grew, you stopped seeking Chaeyoung out for sex, and your relationship instead mellowed into a tightly knit friendship. There were no hard feelings on either side, since Chaeyoung had mostly been in it for the sex anyway. Being a gay idol was really hard, and you’d provided physical and emotional support for a period of time.
These days, you mostly hid in Chaeyoung’s bed to whine about Jennie and cuddled her when she felt like she would never find a girlfriend, given the restrictions on her life as long as she was an idol. Jennie, however, didn’t know that, and increasingly was filled with jealousy whenever you disappeared to look for Chaeyoung. Once, when she’d seen pictures of a wedding between two of her cheer teammates, you’d ended up spending the whole night with her as she cried.
Jennie tried to be understanding – she knew that she didn’t own you, and that Chaeyoung was clearly going through something. But she was going through something too, god dammit, and she wished you would cuddle her and kiss her forehead and tell her it was all going to be okay the way you did with Chaeyoung sometimes on the couch.
Well, it would be difficult for you to do that with her since her issue was that she was falling for you, but still.
Chaeyoung was fully aware of Jennie’s jealousy, too. It wasn’t like she was even trying to be subtle about it, looking over and sighing or pouting whenever she saw the two of you wrapped up cozily together.
Eventually, when it got boring for Chaeyoung to deal with the longing, sidelong glances and wistful sighs, she finally decided to talk to Jennie about you.
Predictably enough, Jennie was reluctant, but Chaeyoung had, by this point, had years of experience prying secrets out of her older member, and was now adept at it. Call her the Jennie whisperer, she thought to herself as she invited Jennie for coffee, just the two of them, like they’d used to as trainees when Lisa and Jisoo were off doing whatever it was the two of them did alone.
Sipping her iced coffee, Chaeyoung eyed Jennie, noting the sadness she thought she was hiding as she stirred the sugar into her drink. “Unnie, are you okay? You just seem really down lately,” she prompted the older girl.
Jennie looked up in surprise, then relaxed. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just Kai, y’know?”
“Unnie, that was months ago! What’s really bothering you?” Chaeyoung pressed.
Abruptly becoming defensive, Jennie’s shoulders drew up around her shoulders. “Nothing’s bothering me,” she said.
“All right,” Chaeyoung accepted, though it was clear from her raised brow that she didn’t believe her. “I’m glad we got to do this, unnie,” she continued with a smile. “We never get to spend time together anymore, just the two of us.”
“That’s true,” Jennie agreed. “We’re always so busy these days…”
“Yeah, and Y/n is always hanging around you too…”
It was like a cloud abruptly formed over Jennie’s head when she heard your name. “She’s not always hanging around me,” she muttered with some bitterness. Sometimes she was spending time with Chaeyoung, after all. It was just a little bit annoying for the person who’d been stealing time with her own recycler to be saying that.
“Unnie, come on! She never leaves your side,” Chaeyoung laughed. She was intentionally goading Jennie, but the older girl seemed to be falling for it hook, line and sinker without even realizing that she was being played.
“That is so not true,” Jennie huffed. Her jealousy got the better of her, and she snapped, “She’s always hanging around you these days.”
A beat of silence, then Chaeyoung said with delight, “Unnie, are you jealous?”
“What? N-no!” Jennie denied, flustered now. “Why would I be jealous? She’s just my recycler. She can sleep with whoever she wants.”
“Wait, who said anything about sleeping together? I thought we were talking about just hanging out.”
“We were, I mean—oh, fuck.” Caught red-handed, Jennie slumped miserably onto the table in front of her, hiding her face from her dongsaeng.
“You know, you should really just talk to her,” Chaeyoung said, uncaring of Jennie’s dramatics.
“I can’t,” Jennie protested, her voice muffled. “I have to be responsible for her. She’s going to think that I’m trying to pressure her.”
“Unless…” Chaeyoung trailed off, and Jennie raised her head to look at her.
“Unless?” she asked.
Chaeyoung winked. “Maybe she feels the same way about you.”
-------------------------------
Now that Chaeyoung had planted that thought in her mind, Jennie couldn’t stop thinking about it. She saw hints of it in the way you happily ran to give her a hug when she came home, the way you snuggled up to her at night, and in all the thoughtful little gestures that showed how much attention you paid to her. You brought her snacks and water during her meets and shoots when they ran overtime, and always encouraged her during practice and recording sessions.
As much as she tried not to overthink it, it was impossible not to read into the little ways you made her feel special especially when you were drinking from her. The cozy way your face nestled into her ass when she sat on the chair, or the almost reverent, worshipful way you looked up at her when she stood over you, the way you licked her clean so slowly and thoroughly that there was no way you were oblivious to how wet she became, and those sweet, soft kisses you’d taken to littering on her pussy when you were done licking her.
There was no way you’d do all that unless you felt some type of way for her, right?
Despite Chaeyoung’s intervention and her own increasing desire for more between the two of you, it actually took a rather embarrassing mistake on her part to force her hand.
Since she’d broken up with Kai, she’d entered somewhat of a sex drought, which meant it was easier than ever for you to turn her on, something you took pleasure in doing, especially at home on days when she didn’t have any schedules. She knew this, and yet she could never bring herself to stop you by getting up before you were done ‘cleaning’ her, always hungry for more.
On this particular day, your face was under her on the chair when she made the mistake of looking down at you between her legs. She could only see the lower half of your face, of course, yet the sight of your tongue so eager to please was definitely her new kryptonite, she decided on the spot. As you licked a stripe from her clit to her asshole, she shuddered and let out a soft moan, rolling her hips slightly to get more friction.
A second later, she paused and stiffened, hoping that you hadn’t heard that.
Unfortunately, from your giggle, she knew that was not the case, and started to rise, intending to beat a hasty retreat. Before she could get up, however, your arms shot out, grabbing her by the hips. “Unnie,” you whined.
“Y-Y/n,” she stammered, trying harder to shake off your grasp and stand up. Eventually, you let her, but when she turned back to look at you, you were pouting up at her through the hole in the seat.
“Unnie, don’t you want me to finish?” you asked.
“You— I— what?” Reduced to stammering now, she started backing away from you, and you hastily got out from under the seat to sit on the ground.
“I mean, I knew that you were liking it more than you wanted to admit,” you told her, your eyes wide with sincerity. “I don’t mind helping you out, you know.”
“But… but Chaeyoung…” Jennie was grasping at straws now.
You shrugged. “We haven’t slept together in months, unnie. I want this,” you said, leaning forward. “If you’re okay with it, that is.”
“Wait… what is it you want exactly?” She didn’t think she could handle just being friends with benefits with you, even if her libido was screaming at her to take what she could get.
“I want to be your recycler… friend… girlfriend, if you want…?” You peeked up at her from under your lashes, nervous now from laying all your cards on the table.
“Really?” She knelt on the floor to look you in the eye properly. “You really want that? You’re not just saying it because you think I do?”
“You do?” Surprise coloured your tone. “I thought you were just horny after your breakup.”
Jennie flushed. “Well, I mean, there is that,” she coloured. “But no… I really do have feelings for you. It’s probably part of why my relationship with Jongin-oppa didn’t work out.”
You giggled. “Well, if you don’t mind… I’d love to give this a shot,” you confessed.
“I would love that too,” Jennie breathed, leaning in to kiss you, because she needed to occupy her mouth with something before she blurted out something stupid, like that she loved you.
To her surprise and displeasure, however, you leaned back when it became clear what she was trying to do. “Wait, wait! Don’t you want me to brush my teeth or something?” you asked, clapping a hand over your mouth.
She laughed. “I don’t care, silly,” she said, pulling you closer with a hand on the nape of your neck. With that out of the way, you eagerly draped your arms around her neck and pulled her close for a kiss. It was soft and sweet and everything you’d dreamed of with her… until she broke away to pull you to her bed.
“Moving a little fast there, aren’t you, unnie?” you giggled as she straddled you. She hadn’t put her clothes back on, so she was wearing only a shirt.
“You’ve been teasing me for months,” she complained as she leaned down to kiss you again, this one deeper and filthier, leaving you breathless.
“Fair enough,” you said, letting her pull your shirt off. You retaliated by stripping hers off too, and then she shuffled down to take care of your shorts and panties. “What do you want to do?”
She moved with a sense of purpose and drive that indicated she’d thought about this a lot, shuffling up to your face and straddling it, facing your body. Leaning forward, she pulled your legs apart and ran her fingers along your soaked slit before raising her fingers to her mouth. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw Chaeng on top of you,” she growled before lowering her pussy to your face.
You ate her out ravenously, excited after all those months of stolen moments where you gradually pushed the limits to see where she would draw the line. You already knew how she tasted, but you wanted her to use you for her pleasure, grind on your face and moan and scream when you made her feel good.
Diligently, you lapped at her clit, experimenting with different strokes and speeds until you found one that seemed to make her go crazy. She dropped her head, pressing her cheek to your thigh for a few seconds before regaining composure and redoubling her efforts to make you cum. Of course, this was a competition she was bound to lose, since you’d had a head start earlier.
“Unnie, your cunt tastes so good,” you moaned into her core between the sucking and licking. “Your piss is so fucking tasty too, I love it.”
Your nasty words spurred her on, and she ground her pussy against your face, groaning at the stimulation on her clit. “Fuck, you feel so good,” she huffed, forgetting about your pleasure as she chased her own relentlessly. “Such a nasty little slut for me, aren’t you?”
Since it didn’t seem like she had the bandwidth to, you took over stimulating yourself, rubbing at your clit with your fingers. “Yeah, I’m your dirty slut, unnie,” you gasped, before sucking her clit into your mouth and flicking it with your tongue repeatedly. The movement sent her stratospheric and she cried out as she came, gushing cream straight into your mouth.
“Oh, God,” she exhaled shakily when it was over, lifting herself off your face. “You’re such a good girl,” she praised, her fingers sliding along your cunt again and knocking your hand out of the way as she began fingering you in earnest, wanting to pay you back for the orgasm you’d just gifted her.
“Ah, unnie,” you moaned, your hips rising off the bed as you chased her touch. “That feels so good, yes, yes—” Your eyes closed, and you gasped, small, choked cries leaving your mouth as you came, clenching down on her fingers. She worked you diligently through it, only pulling her hand away when you started to make small noises of pain as overstimulation set in.
“That was so good, unnie,” you said in a soft, tired voice as she collapsed on the bed next to you. Pulling her close, you nuzzled your nose against hers.
“Likewise,” she smiled before her lips met yours in a kiss, this one chaste and sweet after your mutual lust had been slaked.
“Thank you for giving us a shot,” you murmured, closing your eyes in contentment.
“No,” she corrected you, wrapping her arms around you. “Thank you for being mine.”
You knew what she meant, and your lips lifted in a small smile. You would always be hers, and she would never forget to appreciate it. Neither of you were willing to call it love yet, but you knew that would come. There was no rush – you were her recycler, you’d always be together.
#kwritersworldnet#ksmutclub#blackpink smut#blackpink scenarios#girl group scenarios#jennie smut#rose smut
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Turns out the Food Market screenshots didn’t disappear, they were saved in the general Storytelling folder and not the Neighborhood>Storytelling folder. Why? Who knows! My other community lot screenshots saved in the regular folder just fine! I got pretty frustrated with it, experiencing this plus a “crash for no reason during Change Appearance, and I really mean no reason I checked the CC the game just wanted to reload for half an hour” on two separate nights this week, but at least I figured that much out. I’m hoping that loading CAS before going into residential lots and changing appearance might make a difference, CAS might load everything better.
But the good news: I have pictures of the Food Market, the Baldwin home, and the Broke family!
Is there a good default for the community lot phone? Other than that, I like how you can see the aqueduct and the Church in the background!
Down here, we see another view on the meat stand, and there’s a cheese stand nearby.
The register table in the far corner, as well as a couple of benches, a pair of outhouses, and a jester stand to entertain the customers.
A couple of Vendor stalls--herbs and spices, and assorted fruits, crops, and foraged goods. I’m planning to reduce the number of vendors as the economy gets going and sims are able to supply their own grown products, but for now I just want to be sure they can buy the food they need.
And the far right, empty market stalls, intended for goods our grocers may purchase from other sims directly.
Whew! I’m so glad I found those. Although I had about a million shots of similar angles.
I’m pretty happy with the Baldwin home, although I do not consider it totally finished:
It’s a little bit similar to the Patel home in general layout, although with a strict theme and identical restrictions at the yeoman level that’s hard to avoid. I went with a darker wood tone on this lot, though, and wanted a striking contrast with white plaster.
The living room. I’m finding it really tough to figure out appropriate furniture for yeomen, which might be why I struggled to spend enough on the Patel home. I think this is satisfactory, though.
The kitchen, featuring the checkbook they’ll be using once they get the Hedge Tavern up and running. (I couldn’t find any guidelines on how much the hedge tavern is supposed to cost, so I will wing it. But they’ll have plenty with Carlos’ money, and send the rest to the church.)
Upstairs, in the common bedroom that’s for Carlos, Sofia, and Marcus when he ages up, and any future children once they’re out of toddlerhood.
The “private” bedroom, for a given value of private. This is for Isabel and Benjamin, and all babies and toddlers in the family.
Outside, a simple garden. They have radishes, leeks, cabbage, and carrots. Mostly I just wasn’t sure what to do with the outside, and figured it couldn’t hurt to have them try to sustain themselves. They will not be allowed to sell their produce, except maybe directly to a grocer. I... suspect I started them on too large a lot (it’s 2x3, and they don’t have a home business so it should probably be 2x2 instead), but it’s okay.
Because they own the hedge tavern, I gave them a few apple trees (and a juicer!) with the idea that it at least represents brewing their own cider. I may have made apples too common, but I don’t think sims care about supply and demand. Also pictured: the outhouse.
And a stash of extra kegs from the tavern. I’m planning to add more decor, mainly outside, if they have money left after constructing the tavern.
And at long last, the Broke family!
Brandi Broke, looking... fairly stunning if I say so myself. I wanted to keep her pink theme, and it worked out pretty well. She is going to want to secure herself a new husband as quickly as she can, but for now Dustin’s officially the man of the house.
Dustin Broke, mid-tantrum about being poor. Not coming off well regarding manliness, bud. It is unlikely he’ll be allowed to marry Angela--he’s a peasant, she’s a yeoman, and she’s first-born so prefers to marry up, but if they’re well suited for each other their parents might be willing to consider it.
And Beau Broke, with shaggy hair that may one day grow long, and a simple toddler shift outfit. I must say, I’m looking forward to remodeling the Broke house--eventually--as it’s already a pretty good shape for a peasant hovel. I just need to eliminate the foundation, make it only two rooms, and dress it up.
For a little more update, I have decided that the sensible thing to do with traits is start by passing them out to the sims who are obvious, (ie, make the Curious brother supernatural fans, make Cassandra a hopeless romantic, etc), and then randomize the rest, rather than try to research every sim’s personality or make wild guesses. I didn’t realize the randomizer is smart enough to take sims’ personalities and aspirations into account, so it should give good results.
...oh, and Loki is gonna be Evil. He might be the only premade sim that definitely qualifies for that.
I have seven more lots to build/remodel in Belladonna Cove, minimum, and 53 households to makeover before I can consider actually playing. Hooray?
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Hey, in honor of A.C.E. coming back soon would you mind talking about their outfits and makeup in their Favorite Boy comeback (or really any of their outfits/make up cause their stylists is a god and deserves a kiss on the forehead)? They have some of my favorite styling of any boy group currently. Undercover Byeongkwan in the black and yellow crop top with the pony tail lives in my mind rent free and I’m not complaining. I especially loved the mesh of modern and traditional in Fav Boys.
yes!!!! ok be prepared people this is basically a love letter to a.c.e's stylist, whoever you are please my dms are open i just wanna talk (and maybe also get married, your choice)
(also this is really long because there's a lot of pictures, so sue me)
ok there's three main things i want to touch on here that are all contributing factors in a.c.e aesthetics hitting every time: colour theory, silhouette, and pattern matching. alright let's go!
colour theory
so i won't explain all of colour theory because i’m not as good as i should be with the actual theory, but here’s the basics. colours are divided into groups: primary, secondary, and tertiary. here’s a fun diagram i stole from google:
in centre you have the primary colours (red/blue/yellow), then you have the secondary colours, made from mixing the primary colours (orange/green/violet), and then the tertiary colours are made from mixing the primary and secondary colours (yellow orange/red orange/red violet/blue violet/blue green/yellow green). there are some commonly associated schemes that are known to ‘look good’ to the human eye:
complementary, where you pair two colours directly opposite each other on the wheel (red/green, blue/orange, purple/yellow)
analogous, which is a base colour with accents from the colours directly next to it (red base, orange/violet accent),
triadic - either base colour with accent colours equidistant from it (green/orange/violet), or base colour with split complementary (violet base, yellow green/yellow orange accent)
tetradic - this is essentially a combination of two or more of the previous, usually a double complementary or an analogous triad with a complimentary accent (red/green with red violet/yellow green, orange/blue with yellow orange/blue violet)
now there’s a lot more getting into tone, value, and saturation, but these are the basic hue combinations that we most commonly see. kpop styling sometimes veers wildly from these rules, but they aren’t hard and fast so it usually isn’t a big deal. plus a lot of styling is supposed to be a bit visually overwhelming anyways, so i’m not exactly counting it against anyone. but what makes a.c.e’s styling look so nice, even though it often isn’t that complicated, is that they always stick to a specific palette. like i went all the way back through their instagram and ALL their public appearances are coordinated:
even their dance practice videos, of all things!
this is especially true with their performance costumes:
i'm not saying anything really revolutionary here, most groups get colour matching down correctly, but a.c.e's stylists have really nailed down matching the tone and saturation as well as the hue. here's a couple of examples from concept photos:
complementary - full saturation green base, desaturated red (pink) as accent
analogous - full saturation violet, pink, and magenta with desaturated and black accents
triadic - all desaturated
complementary - full saturation red base, varying degrees of desaturation for accent colours
this is fun, let's do some more! this time from their performance costumes:
analogous (monochrome) - full saturation yellow green, desaturated accents
tetradic (analogous with complementary accent) - full saturation red, desaturated violet/red/blue, desaturated green as accent)
triadic (equidistant) - full saturation red/blue with desaturated yellow, desaturated accents
tetradic (double complementary) - full saturation red/green as main pair, desaturated blue/orange as secondary pair, full saturation yellow as accents
starting to see it? you can do this with pretty much any of their styling; i've watched a lot of their performances and i don't think i've seen a single one that didn't follow a really strict colour palette. (ok there were like two savage stages that were not quite as good, but you can tell the stylist was trying to bring them in line with the current 4th gen styling and it didn't work so it didn't last).
costume colours and lighting
this is an important aside in relation to the mvs. whoever edits their mvs is really good at colouring. a big part of colour theory is tone, which is how 'warm' or 'cool' a colour is. it's super important in lighting; the colour wheel is split in half, with yellow through red-red violet categorized as warm, and yellow green through blue and violet as cool. a really easy way to visualize this in lighting is through the light from different types of lightbulbs: led lights are cool toned (they are often slightly bluish), and old style halogen lights are warm toned (they are amber tinged). tones are a thing that kpop videos seem to have a fleeting relationship with; sometimes they're used effectively and sometimes they are not. a big thing that a lot of kpop mvs do is really quickly switch tones in colouring, without connecting the intentions of the colours. here's some examples: ateez's fireworks mv, and oneus' no diggity mv. the fireworks mv has this really weird desaturated balance between warm and cool tones specifically in the interior shots, where they somehow managed to overblow both at the same time, which ends up making it look like they were trying really hard to make a cool tone yellow. you can actually feel your eyes relax in that first shot that takes them outside, because the balance is much more natural. and the no diggity mv.... i love it but it's so chaotic. everything is on high saturation all the time and there's no real limitation on the palette, established connection between colours or arc in the colour story, so the cuts between colours and shots feel more random than intentional. now lets look at some a.c.e mvs in comparision, first: undercover. for starters there's an immediate establishement of red and white/black, with a mild green accent. then it continues to a stronger green/teal, with brown as an extension of red (same undertone). there's a colour shift at the first chorus, where they are in the analogous full saturation violet/pink outfits that i mentioned previously, but they actually desaturate and de-value the hues with edit in order to have it match the tone of the room. the second colour shift is for the second rap break, with byeongkwan and wow in yellow main on black and white backgrounds, but that same level of yellow saturation only appears at the rap break specifically, it's absent from the rest of the mv. and then there's a third colour shift on the last chorus, where they pump up the blue and magenta in order to emphasize the climax of the song.
second, for something a bit crazier: goblin. it follows almost the same pattern as undercover; starting with a strong establishment of red/white/black, but then it jumps into full saturation green and teal as the other main colours. again there's a colour switch at byeongkwan's second rap break, and after than we start to see that deeper saturation blue and pink/purple more, but the main colours are still red/white/black.
ok that's enough about colour, now let's talk about
silhouette
this is maybe a little bit more vague and difficult to describe, but whatever. silhouette is pretty much exactly the way it sounds, it's the overall shape of the body. clothing and body type play equal roles in how silhouette is perceived, but clothing can do a lot to either disguise or transform the body. now there isn't really that much variation in body type in kpop; it's a microcosm of small differences between a lot of very fit people, which has been normalized as "default" by society at large for the last while. i'm not going to get into body politics here, because we all know that kpop dudes are not the median average male body type, but they are for the sake of what we've been socialized to think of as looking attractive so the rest of this is going to operate from that assumption. and when you have five dudes who are pretty smack in the middle of that slight variation (none of them are the largest nor the thinnest, they're all about the same middling height), you've got pretty much free reign to put them in whatever you want and they'll still look hot. kpop styling has a dubious relationship to actual wearable clothing, but it is all costuming so it's not necessary for it to be wearable everyday clothing. but since view in 2015 there's been a dramatic increase in "normal" clothing as performance costume, and the thing about normal contemporary clothing is that it's actually very difficult to style in a convincing way. because it's the trends that the general public is the most familiar with, it's the easiest for them to pick apart where the flaws are. this is all preface to say that there are often common silhouettes that are popular with specific trends. in 2012-2013 there was that sweater tucked into circle skirt with big scarf trend, in the 2007 was like baggy everything and layered tshirts, etc, and 2018-2019 was big colourful patterned shirts. sound familiar? it should, take me higher came out in summer 2018! now there's a debate here (like with most pop culture and celebrity) whether or not kpop is following trends or setting them, and both points are true, but personally i'm of the opinion that kpop is kind of a median between the two; it's not setting trends because it's often taking directly from the fashion industry and/or other popular culture, but it is popularizing them in a way that said trend may not have otherwise. there's a lot of digressions in this section but i'm hoping this will help you see my point.
using take me higher as a specific example, you can clearly see that a.c.e is sticking to a specific silhouette within the group, which is a boxy/loose upper with a fitted lower. which you can see really clearly in this stage, this stage, this stage, this stage, and honestly pretty much every stage for this comeback. sometimes they'll have a slight variation where one of them is wearing a longer shirt, but otherwise it's pretty consistent. this is actually a really common silhouette for them, because it puts emphasis on their specific style of choreo, which is fast footwork. you can see it to the extreme in their main cactus styling, which goes the whole nine yards, fully making their legs the focus and going so far as to embellish them:
this silhouette also shows up for callin', where they're wearing boxy hip cut bomber jackets, and for the majority of the undercover styling, which is cropper military(ish) jackets. and it's shaping up to be similar for higher, so i'll talk more about it when i get there.
they have a consistant look for the goblin stages too, which is hanbok over a tight fitted underlayer. each of their hanbok are different cuts, which you can see with wow's cropped jacket and skirt combo, but it makes the same shape as the others. and in the goblin mv, most of their looks take a traditional silhouette and pair it with modern fabrics and patterns, and combining modern accessories with modernized traditional ones.
sticking to an internal silhouette is not the common mode for most boy group stylings at the moment. there's usually an adhesion to a specific colour scheme, but i have not noticed the same kind of care taken to silhouette. there's usually an adhesion to a member specific shape, but the general shape of the group is not usually as considered. you can see it in ateez's fireworks styling (yes i'm going to use it again, the styling was very weird and i never really talked about how weird it is). in the intro you've got tight pants, loose pants, short jackets, suit jackets, AND a long jacket. and then it's the same kind of variety in the rest of their outfits. if anyhting i'd say the emphasis was meant to be on shoulders, because of the point choreo; and yunho, hongjoong, san, and wooyoung all have some kind of shoulder padding, but that's only half the group. and the stage outfits are not any better. there's the infamous ketchup packet outfit, this naruto themed styling, this inexplicable bdsm football themed styling, and whatever this snakeskin theme is meant to be. it's all over the place! there's some performer specific shapes (hongjoong with the shoulder pads and hip length jacket, san with crop top, yeosang sleeveless) but if you were to just look at the shape of the outfits regardless of colour and pattern, you'd have no way to tell if they were all in the same group.
ok now lastly, let's quickly talk about
pattern matching and texture
this section won't be as long, but i wanted to cover it because even though it's a small and subtle thing, it does a lot in the visual long run. the general rule with patterns is that you don't combine patterns of the same size. this is kind of hard to explain without a visual reference so here's a few examples:
(not my photos, these are from scott schuman's blog the sartorialist)
small check, even smaller pinstripe
mid-size print on pant, large print on scarf
small shirt stripe, mid-size print on tie, mid-large print on scarf
small print on zip jacket, mid-size on scarf, large plaid on jacket
like all fashion and like everything else i've talked about here, this isn't a hard and fast rule, but it does generally look the most harmonious. a.c.e really nails this in the take me higher stages, which you can see here:
(in addition to using different pattern sizes, they're using different colours as well to make it less visually busy)
(bonus! see if you can name the type of colour stories!)
the goblin stages utilize a combination of texture and pattern matching, where the hanbok are a mix of different fabrics (raw silk, embroidered satin, organza) with different patterns, overtop plain underlayers, or when they aren't in hanbok their outfits are very heavily embellished to add visual interest, but are unpatterned fabrics.
in conclusion: good and cohesive colour stories, emphasis on uniform silhouettes and variety in patterns and textures. they also are very specific with accessories, and use them to emphasize key features.
ok! i think that's all i want to cover for this post, because this is already so long. but i've started on the write up for higher already, so i might get into some of my points here in more detail because i'll be talking about one specific thing instead of like......all of it.
#ace w#this ended up being mostly about take me higher because everything about the stages for take me higher is SO GOOD#seriously i watched like all of the stages and they all hit#also it's the type of contemporary design that i specialize in so of course it appeals to me#i say as im in the middle of designing a heighted modern styling for a show with a limited colour palette......#the higher writeup might take a few days#but i dont think it's going to be as long as this so hopefully not#a.c.e stylist please dm me i love you#a.c.e#kpop analysis#group analysis#general design questions#kpop questions#answers#text#i didn't say very much about the cactus styling because everything about it is perfect#no notes#10/10
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Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)
Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)
Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves
Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C
Chapter 6/?
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Lila picks up the letter with the marriage license from the letterbox when she comes home from running some errands only a few days after they applied for it. She recognises that it’s from city hall and hesitates for a moment as it’s addressed to Diego and could honestly be anything, how would she know, but she’s desperately impatient so she decides to open the letter and just give it a cursory look and apologise for snooping through his mail later if it turns out to be something else.
As it is, in fact, the marriage license, Lila gets on the phone right away and books an appointment at the courthouse for a wedding in a week’s time, apparently managing to get a slot that just opened up again earlier in the morning, as the waiting time would otherwise have been a couple more weeks. The clerk at city hall had very kindly explained to them how to go about booking a courthouse wedding and what that would entail, otherwise Lila would have been back at square one again even with the license.
All they need to bring is their necessary documentation and a single witness. Lila really hopes Diego has someone he can ask, because she doesn’t want to get one of her coworkers to come along.
She explains this to Diego when he turns up in the evening and he doesn’t even blink at the fact that she opened the letter addressed to him and then suggests he could ask Klaus to be their witness.
“I can ask my brother to take some pictures as well, so we have them as proof for the visa proceedings.” Diego muses.
“Who, Klaus?” Lila asks a bit confused why Diego wouldn’t just refer to him by name, seeing as she’s already met him.
“No, Ben.” Diego says, a bit distracted, as he reads through the letter that she handed him.
“You have another brother?” Lila asks, surprised.
Diego gives her a blank look for a second, then says, “Uh, I have four brothers…”
“And a sister?” Lila puts together, her voice a little high in disbelief.
“Two sisters, actually… all adopted.” Diego shrugs noncommittally, “I guess we’ll have to go through all of that before the interview process.”
Lila could kick herself, because she forgot to ask him exactly what the interview could possibly entail as she’d not heard of it before Diego mentioned it back at city hall. She’s relatively certain that the image that pops into her head of her pretending to be some kind of nineteen fifties housewife in a hoop skirt and delicate curls, who has to fawn over her breadwinner husband while a government agent takes notes, is probably not exactly what they are in for.
But before she can ask about the interview this time, Diego asks tentatively, “Uhm, have you thought about what you’re gonna wear?”
Lila is sitting on the arm of the couch, Diego standing not too far away from her, very strenuously looking down at the letter in his hand. Lila crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, and after a moment Diego does look at her and is immediately flustered.
“I’m not— It’s not… It’s just, if we’re taking pictures, we can’t look too shabby, but it’s also just a courthouse wedding, so we can’t look too fancy either.”
“You think I might turn up to my wedding looking shabby?” Lila asks in an even tone, but she tries very hard to give it an edge and tries even harder not to start laughing out loud at the look of panic that makes its way onto Diego’s face.
“That’s not… I didn’t mean…” he stammers, but Lila takes sympathy and interrupts him to say, not unkindly, “I have a dress I can wear.”
“Ok,” Diego says, clearly relieved that she didn’t end up getting annoyed at him again, and a tiny part of Lila is filled with a little bit of guilty regret for making him feel like he can’t say anything to her without the danger of her blowing up at him. He’s doing her a massive favour, apparently despite the fact he seems to think of her as some kind of raging bitch. It’s not like she can entirely blame him, but for some reason that thought really twists something in the pit of her stomach.
Which is odd, because she usually couldn’t give a flying toss about what people think of her.
-
In the end the day somehow arrives much sooner than she expected and Lila finds herself stepping out of her room in a short red cotton dress that hangs a little loosely off the thin straps across her shoulder but is cinched at the waist with a drawstring with a bow, and she’s put on a pair of black high heel sandals.
She hears Diego in the kitchen, so she makes her way over and when she finds him she is hit by the view of Diego in a pair of very nicely fitted grey suit trousers, a matching jacket, and what must be a black t-shirt underneath as he’s pouring himself a cup of coffee. For a second Lila can’t work out if she’s completely underdressed by comparison, or whether Diego is just wearing the heck out of his clothes, but then he notices her and gives her a once over with a strange expression.
“You look… uh… really, uhm, cute,” he says, a bit hesitantly.
“Ah shit,” Lila says, a bit frustrated, “this is way too casual… Hold on, I can take another look in my cupboard…” but Diego interrupts her. “No, Lila, honestly, you look lovely! You’re perf— It’s perfect! Not too flashy, but you look very nice, really!” Diego says in a reassuring tone and despite the fact she doesn’t quite feel like she’s actually struck the balance, she’s finding it hard not to believe him, he does sound awfully sincere.
Diego drives them to the courthouse and Lila is very intrigued by his car. It's classic Chevy and it’s a bit of a banger of a thing, but inside it smells of leather seats and very faintly of Diego’s aftershave, and Lila is weirdly comforted by that, considering her stomach is rolling with nerves. She’s not even sure why. This means nothing, they are doing this so she can get a visa and yet Lila wonders whether she’d honestly be significantly more nervous if this was her real wedding.
On their way they pick up Klaus, who is wearing a sarong and a tie dye crop top and Lila is interested to see that Diego doesn’t comment at all on the outfit, so neither does she. Then they pick up Diego’s other brother, Ben, who’s wearing a leather jacket over a hoodie, Lila can see as he approaches the car. A lot more sensibly dressed than Klaus, but still a little casual for a wedding. Then again, Lila thinks, he’s mostly only there to take the photos, so it doesn’t actually matter.
The first thing Ben does, as he climbs into the car, is make a snide comment at Klaus’s attire and Klaus shoots back with something equally insulting and after a short back and forth Diego interrupts them in annoyance, “Shut the fuck up back there, or I swear, I’m gonna pull someone off the sidewalk to be the witness, and I’m sure we can get the officiant to take a couple of pictures!”
The two brothers in the backseat take that as an invitation to have an argument amongst themselves about the ungratefulness they have to deal with and Diego rolls his eyes at them in the rearview mirror, but Lila catches the fond smile that etches it’s way across his lips and she’s quite certain that she wasn’t meant to see that. She’s glad she did.
She’s also glad that Diego has apparently told his brothers the purpose of their wedding, which means they don’t have to pretend in front of them and only need to start acting like a couple as they are called into the ceremonial office twenty minutes after their actual appointment.
The officiating judge seems harassed and in a hurry and just makes a grabbing motion as they enter. Diego catches on right away. Maybe, Lila muses, he deals with people like this all the time in his job, so he hands over all of their documents that they have compiled in one file.
The judge gives the paperwork a very thorough look, while Lila and Diego stand a little awkwardly in front of her desk.
“Okay, this all seems fine. Can I see the witness’s ID?” she says looking over the rim of her glasses at Ben.
“Oh, that’s me!” chirps Klaus and flounces over to the desk and hands the judge a passport that Lila doesn’t want to think about where he’d been keeping it on his person.
“Alright!” Says the judge and pulls a form out of a tray and starts writing their names on it in what looks, from where Lila can see it, like remarkably tidy cursive.
“Well then, are you, Diego Hargreeves, free lawfully to marry Lila Pitts?” she asks in a very official sounding voice.
Diego, much like Lila herself, must be a bit taken aback at how quickly they got to this part but rallies and says, in an unwavering voice, “I am!”
The judge turns to her and Lila swallows hard as she hears, “Are you, Lila Pitts, free lawfully to marry Diego Hargreeves?”
“I am!” Lila answers without hesitation, maybe she even sounds a bit rushed, but she hasn’t got the time to think about whether that is in any way embarrassing, because the judge just plows on, “Ok, then you sign here and here,” she points at the two gaps and Diego lets Lila go first. Then the judge says quite impatiently, “Witness?” and Klaus hurries over to put down his own name.
“Great! Then, by the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife!” the judge says, reaching for a stamp and then distractedly adding, “You may kiss the bride.”
Lila watches as Diego’s eyes go wide, and she can’t blame him for that. For some incomprehensible reason she had also not thought about the fact that this might come up.
Diego looks at the judge for a second, but she’s busy sorting out their paperwork, then he looks at Lila and she gives him a half smile and a tiny shrug, because they can hardly just back out of this part now and Ben is just there with his camera at the ready, so Lila feels emboldened by the thought that this is probably really useful evidence for the immigration file, and she’s just about to reach for Diego, as his hand gently lands on the side of her face and in surprise she covers it with her own, and then his lips are softly pressing against her mouth.
She doesn’t even notice that she’s closed her eyes, but for a moment all she can focus on is the warmth of Diego’s hand on her face, the gentle breath that ghost across her cheek as he slowly breaths out of his nose, and the tension in his lips as they move gently against hers. Then he starts pulling away and a deep sense of loss settles into a spot just behind her breast bone just before Diego ever so slightly brushes his lips against hers for one more moment and then he’s gone and Lila almost over balances. She just about manages not to fall forwards and hopes nobody noticed that for a beat she turned into a swooning damsel.
Things turn into a blur then. They are dismissed hastily by the judge and then find themselves outside the courthouse. Klaus has produced a bottle of champagne and some paper cups from somewhere and Ben encourages them to pose for a few pictures in which they are toasting their newly established matrimony.
Lila downs the first cup of champagne she’s handed and immediately asks for a second and Diego gives her a slightly bewildered look, but at this point the day has been too much for her already and she no longer has the energy to feel embarrassed.
“C’mon!” Klaus then says clapping his hands together decisively, “We need to get a few more pictures of the happy couple,” and adds in a loud stage whisper, “for the whole visa things.”
Lila catches a glimpse of how Diego’s jaw tightens in response and when she looks back at Klaus there is decidedly a glint in his eye, and Lila is relatively certain that they are having some kind of unspoken communication literally over the top of her head.
Klaus glides over to stand beside Ben and in the meantime Lila suddenly feels Diego’s arm coming around the back of her and landing on her waist. But his grip is loose and he doesn’t pull her in and she’s unsure of how to go about this herself, so she fusses for a moment before putting her arm around his waist as well and then leaning into him just a bit and putting her other hand against his side.
Apparently encouraged by the fact that she’s not pulled away, Diego’s grip on her tightens and Lila makes the mistake of looking up at him, and their eyes meet and she freezes.
Diego’s eyes are impossibly soft as he’s looking back at her and for a moment Lila wonders whether that means anything. Then she slowly starts panicking as she thinks about whether she wants it to mean anything and just as Diego clears his throat and it almost seems like he wants to say something, Klaus shouts, “Lovely! And now kiss!”
Both Lila and Diego swivel round to look at Klaus but he just gives them an encouraging hand gesture, so they turn back to each other and this time a bit awkwardly press their lips against each other, noses bumping a bit uncomfortably.
It’s not a terrible kiss, Lila has had worse, but it certainly has nowhere near the effect on her that the one in the judge's office did. As she makes a little displeased noise in the back of her throat and Diego pulls away instantly with an expression that looks about as frustrated as she feels, Lila is suddently completely off kilter. In one instant she feels like she might get lost in his eyes and the next they can’t even manage an even slightly romantic kiss despite the fact they have already done so much more together.
Apparently Klaus is also not particularly impressed by their display because he says, irritation in his voice, “Are you kidding me? What was that? Come on you guys, you’re young and hot and… well… not so much unattached, but you know what I mean, you should manage a more passionate kiss than that even if it’s just for the camera! Stop kissing like you would your grandma!”
“Shut the fuck up, Klaus!” Diego growls and Lila can feel him tense next to her, but she’s too busy gaping at Klaus and asks at the same time as Diego speaks, “How the fuck do you kiss your grandma?”
“Never you mind!” Klaus grins at her with a little flick of the hand, “Anyway, we need more passion, right Benny?” he adds, elbowing his brother enthusiastically.
“I’m just the photograoher!” Ben says, raising his hands in defense, one of them still holding his camera, “But yeah that was pretty lame.”
“Fuck you both!” Diego says angrily and Lila definitely shares the sentiment but doesn’t get a chance to voice it, because all of a sudden, she’s vertical, with Diego’s arm firmly behind her back pressing her up against his chest, his other hand at the back of her knee pulling it up against his hip and he is properly kissing her this time.
Almost on autopilot, as her brain has momentarily stopped working, Lila wraps one arm around Diego’s neck, threads her other hand into his hair, and when his tongue runs along the seam of her lips, she opens her mouth and licks into his before he even gets any further. Diego makes a tiny whining noise and Lila automatically presses herself harder against him, even though she’s basically suspended in mid air with only one foot on the ground.
Then there’s a loud whoop from somewhere off to the side and as suddenly as she was tipped backwards, Diego pulls her back upright and then she’s standing unsteadily on her own, already desperately missing the sensation of pressing up against Diego’s warm, solid body and the wet heat of his mouth on hers.
-
It’s become a habit by now.
Diego will go to bed and then lie awake staring up at the ceiling for hours, trying to sort out his thoughts.
But today is particularly bad. It’s past two in the morning and he’s not slept a single minute, despite the fact he didn’t get in that late.
After the ceremony, he invited Lila, Klaus, and Ben out for lunch, mostly to thank his brothers for their help and because his stepmom had taught him how to be at least somewhat classy, so he wasn’t going to marry a girl and then not at least take her out to dinner – or lunch in this case – even if it was a sham wedding. Then he’d driven them all home and as he couldn’t afford to take a full day off, made his way back to his office in a daze.
When he got back in the evening, the apartment was already dark and he couldn’t hear any sounds coming from Lila’s room, so he assumed she’d gone to bed and almost felt guilty at how relieved he was not to bump into her.
Fuck, here he is, lying awake in bed, his wife in the other room—Jesus Christ, his wife!—and he can’t even face her.
But he just can’t work out how to be around her, now.
He has no doubt anymore about the fact that he’s in love with Lila but that realisation has almost made things worse.
For a moment, when he stupidly let himself be goaded into kissing her for the photos, he started imagining that she was kissing him back with the same fervor as he was feeling. It felt so real, he’s not even entirely sure he imagined it, but he worries that he’s just seeing what he wants to see.
He even contemplated telling her about how he feels, but that just wouldn’t be fair, even if a tiny part of him hopes that maybe there is a remote chance that she could at least feel something for him beyond friendship. But it would be so unfair on her if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings. They entered their deal under very specific terms and he can’t just go and make things awkward for her, just because he can’t handle being close to Lila without wanting to pull her in and kiss her senseless. He does wonder, though, if he maybe could talk to her about it once she has her visa, once she has options. She wouldn’t be stuck with him then and wouldn’t have to continue pretending to be in a relationship any longer.
Fuck, this is all so messed up, Diego thinks, angry with himself for not being able to keep his feelings under control better. But who is he kidding, that’s never been his strong suit.
He abandons the idea of getting any sleep, so he rolls out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt and hopes that a run around the neighborhood might tire him out enough that he can maybe catch at least a little bit of sleep.
#otp: just be gentle#lila pitts#diego hargreeves#dielila#diego x lila#diego/lila#tua#the umbrella academy#fanfic#ongoing fic
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The Morning Before
Part 11 of Days and Nights of Forever
The morning before she let him go, for what could well have been forever.
Companion to the first part of The Thirteenth Rule
I love Episode 15. So much tenderness there, and so much heartbreak that it's my first time rewatching certain scenes when I finally decided to flesh out THIS outline.
This is for Patty @pateetsie, who sent me a bucket of joy, and wanted some fluff. There's fluff here. :)
I've been cussed out told that there is no fluff in this chapter at all AT ALL. 😅
It was raining. Soft rain. The kind that washed away sleet if any had come in the cold night, the kind that spring asserted against any last vestiges of winter. And she was warm, so very warm with Gon spooning her and breathing onto her hair under their shared blanket.
She wiped her eyes and swallowed the sniffling that had woken her up. He was here. There was no need for this.
Gon tightened his arms around her--gently, without disturbing her wound--and kissed her on her hairline. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She turned in his arms and she saw love and… something else in his eyes. She focused on love. Focused on how he looked like he wanted to kiss her. Focused on all the affection in that gaze. So she smiled at him and smiled wider when she saw that other thing recede from his eyes, even if just for now.
His eyes brightened even more when she stroked his arm, clad in the sleeves of hospital pajamas. “What happened to your clothes? You didn’t get stabbed too while I was asleep?”
“Your nurse happened. She gave me this to wear and took my clothes to the laundry. She felt sorry for me trying to fit into this bed in those clothes.”
“Oh yeah. That jacket certainly wasn’t for sleeping in.” She made a face. “Were they filthy?”
He grinned. “I don’t know. Probably. Frozen time and space also worked on my entire excretory system but I did go out of that place several times. Did I smell when you saw me in 2016? And last night? I’ve showered before getting back in here with you.”
She shook her head, laughing.
The rain continued in the background, falling a little harder, but still a soft, pleasant background as he kissed her.
Tae-Eul sighed into that kiss, loving the feel of his lips and tongue against hers and ignoring the tears that spilled from her eyes again. He had also kissed her last night, but she was already half asleep by then, exhausted from everything, her adrenaline and her brain shutting down the moment Gon was finally there beside her, promising he wouldn’t leave her.
So now she focused on that kiss. And nothing else. The sound of the rain helped.
He brushed his thumbs against her cheeks and eyes, and kissed her eyelids and forehead, his hand a warm, solid weight on her cheek and neck. She placed her hand over his, wrapping her fingers around his thumb.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
She shook her head again. “Don’t mind me. I’m just glad you’re here. Don’t go.”
They both ignored what returned to his eyes.
She moved to get up and he nimbly jumped off the bed and rounded it to help her sit up without straining her middle.
She usually had to roll to her right side and then use her elbow and arm to lever herself up. But he made things simple, wrapping his arm around her and simply lifting her up.
She smiled up at him. “Thanks. Can you help me? My hair wash day was supposed to be yesterday. But I was busy.”
His expression said he wasn’t happy about that, but he grinned all the same. “Of course. I can help you wash everything.”
She slapped him on the arm and left him to laugh at his own dorkiness, pushing him aside to go to the bathroom.
Having him there helped. Instead of struggling over the sink and getting the front of her hospital gown wet anyway despite covering it with a towel, he held a wash basin under her chin so she didn’t have to bend over to wash her face.
They did the same thing when she brushed her teeth.
Then he used the already damp towel to cushion the rim of the sink. He helped her position her head on that towel cushion just so, and he washed her hair, digging his fingers into her scalp, his eyes warm and attentive. Watching for any discomfort. Watching, period. She held his gaze for the first minute, then closed her eyes because the sight of him just...filled her so much and made her spill over with tears. It was ridiculous.
But was it only yesterday that she didn’t know if she was ever going to see him again?
Only yesterday when she felt both sad and relieved that she wasn’t--
She took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to dwell on any of that today.
They had today and she hoped it was going to be a long day.
She opened her eyes and he was still looking at her, now with one hand guiding the handheld shower over her hair and the other on her forehead so the water from her rinse wouldn’t run down her face.
“You’re really good at this. You can go professional.”
“No one would hire me. Everyone else would lose their tips because the customers would flock to me.”
They both laughed. She loved seeing him laugh. She had missed that laugh so much.
He wrapped her hair in the towel, tucking everything carefully so she wouldn’t drip, and then helped her get up again. Once she was on her feet, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tucked her against him.
Her arms were already around his waist, her hands stroking his back. She loved how warm he felt under the thick cotton pajamas. Loved the solid feel of him enclosing her. Loved the weight of his head as he pressed his cheek against the towel securely knotted around her hair.
Loved that he was there for her to hold.
They stayed like that, just holding each other, until they heard someone enter her hospital room outside the en suite. He took her hand and they went out together. The nurse paused on her way out the door. She looked at them and smiled.
“I left your clothes there for you,” she said to Gon, then turned to Tae-Eul. “They’ll send breakfast in a bit. I’ll make sure it’s enough for two. Then I’ll come back with your IV and check on your wound.”
She just smiled again when they both bowed to thank her.
Tae-Eul looked at Gon. “What did you tell her? Why does she love us so much? She wasn’t happy with me last night.”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled in that half-smug, half-self-deprecating way only he could pull off. “Maybe we just look good and romantic?”
“Romantic is not the word in my head right now, but it rhymes.”
Breakfast was quick. She just wanted to start the day. Maybe they could sneak out now that the rain had stopped and the sun was out. She was already done with her bowl of dakjuk before it occurred to her that she could have made Gon feed her. Ridiculous thought. But maybe later.
The nurse came back and scolded Tae-Eul for removing her IV while she redid it all. Tae-Eul didn’t flinch, but Gon did. When the nurse left, Tae-Eul said, “You’re not scared of needles, are you?”
“Of course not. But this is the second time I’m seeing you with an IV. That’s two times too many.”
“I’ll take an IV over a cast any day.”
He rolled his eyes but only shook his head in wry amusement.
He changed back to his black pullover and trousers in the en suite and then they were back to staring at each other while he blow dried her hair.
She wanted to ask him what he was thinking of, but she already knew, so she took hold of his pullover between her fingers, and it was enough to quiet her rising panic.
“I bet you take longer getting your hair done.”
“Not really. It’s fast when you have the right tools and two people doing the work,” he said with a straight face. He laughed at the look on her face. “It’s really just mousse and gel, you know.”
“Why don’t you just slick it back like Jo Yeong does with his hair?”
“Too easy. And he’s been doing it since he got tired of his bowl cut. So I can’t exactly copy him.”
“He had a bowl cut?”
“Yeah. It looked ridiculous. You were so cute as a kid. I saw your pictures at your house, of course, but seeing you in person was different. You were probably so cute as a baby.”
“No, no, I wasn’t a pretty baby.” This wasn’t a subject she wanted, though she applauded herself for being able to say the word baby now. She was going to be fine. “Let’s go downstairs for my checkup so we can go outside.”
She was glad Gon didn’t have to be there when her bandage was changed. The wound was clean but still angry, and it was going to leave an inch of scarring despite the good stitching. She took her antibiotics and the nurse injected another dose of pain meds in her IV.
She wondered how long she could stay awake with those doses in her bloodstream, but she managed. Oh, she managed.
That morning was beautiful, even if she was warned against straining herself and had to be wheeled around, even if Gon was already steeling himself against that regret and unassailable decision she’d seen in his eyes, even with her barely hanging on to composure by touching him all she could.
He fed her bibimbap, and she fed him his bowl of instant ramyeon in return. When one noodle was too violent and broth splashed all over both their faces, they wiped each other’s cheeks and mouths with their hands, laughing hard enough for her wound to twinge and remind her it was still there.
He helped her wash up, and then he helped her lie down because it was probably so obvious that she was fighting sleep.
She curled up facing him in his seat, and she memorized everything about him, that ridiculously perfect hair, his beautiful eyes, that nose, that cheek that hid her favorite dimple, those lips she knew could turn her breathless and mindless and boneless.
And his hands, both clasped and completely enveloping her hand. Those big hands that could deftly handle chalk, shoot hoops, fix cars, knock men down with a single stroke from his sword or his crop, hands that commanded the manpasikjeok and yet were also trapped by the manpasikjeok.
She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t cry again. “You’ll probably leave when I sleep.”
“No.”
All right. She’d take that. She smiled. She wanted to say, “Don’t go.” But that was no longer right to say now, not when their morning was fast turning into evening. She would sleep, and then maybe when she woke up, she would have a better argument than simply telling him they should just… not save the world.
She opened her eyes to drink him in, one last time. “Saranghae.”
He stroked her hair and pressed his lips to hers for several long moments. “Nado.”
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