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i-write-boop-spoops · 3 years

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Leon NSFW Alphabet

Guess who's back on their BS? This spoopy bitch.

Thanks for the request anon! I am very thirsty for Leon so this was a treat for me!

I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible, but i wrote it as Leon being the one doing the penetrating, not the reader, since it just made it more streamlined for me.

NSFW under the cut

A = Aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

In a word? Clingy. In a nicer word? Snuggly. My man just likes holding/being held by you and just wants to be as close as possible to you. It’s all the hormones and the emotions released by sex,and his protective, somewhat possessive nature, that makes him want to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

Obviously he has to let go, because yall need to clean up. He’ll help you of course, take a nice shower with you, dry you off, hop back into bed for cuddles (or more sex)

And since he’s invested in fitness, he knows how important hydration is when partaking in ‘physical activity’ so he has plenty of water by the bed for sips during and afterwards.

B = Body part (what is their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner?)

*inhales* TIDDIES

Well really, it’s more so the chest/pec/breast area. This goes for you and him.

He knows his pecs are MASSIVE (I mean, we’ve all seen Pokemon Evolutions by now, those are some bozongas). He’s proud of all the work he’s done to achieve and maintain it, and he loves whenever you rest your head on his chest, or suck his nipples, or fawn/drool over them.

Whether you have a more masculine, feminine or neutral chest, whether it’s big or not, it doesn’t matter one bit to Leon. As long as he can kiss, and lick and touch ‘em, he’s happy.

Getting to take off your shirt for the first time was like a religious experience for him. He thinks about that visual waaaaay too much to be honest.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Please let this man cum inside you, please, please, please. That feral possessive side of him sees it as a way of claiming you as his, especially if he can breed you.

That being said, he’ll happily wear a condom/cum somewhere else for you if that’s your preference

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

You’d think based on his celebrity status, he wouldn’t take nudes of himself. But he does. And he does a LOT. The amount of dick pics alone you have (happily) received from this man is staggering.

He’ll never admit it, but the risk is half the reason he does it so much.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Considering the fact people literally throw themselves at him, Lee’s only ever been in two or three sexual relationships, one of which was just a one-time hook-up.

Since he’s so eager to please, he’s quite good in bed, he’s the champion after all, your champion, he’s gotta show you a champion time!

F = Favourite Position

He loooooooves missionary, especially when your legs are thrown over his shoulders, so he can fuck you deep and look at all the pleasured expressions on your flushed face. It’s so intimate as well.

His second favourite would be against the wall, facing each other, him easily holding you steady.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or humorous?)

Depends honestly. Lee’s got this boyish charm and levity to him, so it naturally comes out when you’re having a bit of fun in bed. Little jokes, poking your sides, blowing raspberries (or I suppose Razz Berries), just making you giggle a bit. Sometimes he accidentally says something funny too.

But in moments where he’s more sincere, more loving, more vulnerable, he’s definitely a lot less inclined to be goofy, but it sometimes slips out.

And when he’s in that feral, jealous mood? He’s dead serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

Trimmed most of the time, but out of league seasons he lets it get a bit fluffy. Sometimes he has a happy trail too, but that’s also dependent on if he has to be shirtless for any advertisements he’s legally contracted to do.

His pubic hair is purple, but darker than his head-hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? are they romantic?)

Leon can be extremely intimate. Some days he just needs to be as close to you as possible, and make you feel so, so good. He wants to show you that he loves you so much, and sex is a great way to show you that.

Sometimes he’s a bit cheesy, doing the whole rose-petal candle-light thing, or he fills up his large luxurious bath for you two to soak in.

He works a lot, sometimes you don’t get to see each other in person for weeks, so when you get to be together, he likes to show you how much he misses you and cherishes you…

With his penis.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon.)

When he can’t be with you, he masturbates pretty often. It’s not just for arousal reasons, but for a way for him to wind down after a heart-pounding match or the stresses and pressures that come with being champion. It’s usually pretty quick, in the Wyndon Stadium showers where his shame can be washed away.

When it is due to arousal, he likes to fantasise about you, or reminiscence on a particularly good romp. If you’ve let him keep naughty pictures of you, he’ll use that as materiel too.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks.)

Not super kinky, but he does like a bit of bondage, sensory-deprivation and edge play. Usually he’s the dominant one, but he likes being a good little sub now and then.

He also likes to roleplay. Sometimes he pretends to be a heroic knight or king, who’s saved you from some terrible danger, and you reward his bravery with your body. Other times, you pretend to be a groupie who wants to please your favourite pokemon trainer/champion aka him.

Also B R E E D I N G K I N K

L = Location (where are their favourite places to do the do?)

Basically any surface in his place, but especially the bed or the shower. He’s also, on numerous occasions, fucked you in his locker room at Wyndon after a particularly difficult match.

M = Motivation (what turns them on and gets them going?)

You in his merch, cheering for him in the VIP box at Wyndon. You in his shirt and leggings (or no leggings ;) ) tottering about at home. Calling him your Champion. Fiery battles that leave him with excess adrenaline… so many things honestly

One way to guarantee to get him going, especially for rough sex, is when someone flirts with you. He gets jealous and feral so easily, and he HAS to remind you he’s the only man for you.

Again, with his penis.

N = NO (is there something they wouldn’t do? what are their turn-offs?)

He doesn’t want to hurt you or degrade you, not really. He’ll bite ypu, spank you, maybe even choke you a lil’ bit, and he’ll call you his slut, sure, but that’s the extent of his meanness. Any more is too much for him.

Likewise, he doesn’t enjoy being hurt or degraded either. He’s secretly very insecure, and wants to be the best, so if you were to insult him in bed, it would make him extremely upset.

He would also never engage in a group-sex setting. He’s too possessive of you, he can’t handle the thought of someone else giving you pleasure or being inside you.

O = Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving? how skilled are they?)

Honestly Leon doesn’t have a preference. He finds both pleasurable and rewarding in their own way.

He loves to kiss and lick and leave marks on your naval and thighs before going down on you. And boy, is he thorough when he does. He definitely leaves you with your legs shaking when he’s done. Please play with his hair when he’s down there, when you grip and tug at it, it makes him work even harder.

When you go down on him, he feels so lucky. You look so sweet and innocent kneeling before him, giving him soft licks and suckles. He’s pretty big down there, so he doesn’t expect you to be able to comfortably suck him, let alone deep-throat him, but if you can, he will be at your mercy.

He wouldn’t fuck your face though, that’s a bit much for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough or slow and sensual?)

If he’s feeling feral and possessive, expect a rough, harsh pounding, sometimes his thrusts are quicker in these moments, other times, he really likes to drag it out, really make you feel every inch of him.

When his mood is lighter, his pace is definitely more intimate, less fast, more thorough. And when he makes love, it’s slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (what is their opinion on quickies over proper sex? how often do they have quickies?)

Lee can’t quite get over how hotquickies are. The rush, the adrenaline, that chase a much-needed climax. He loves it so much.

I wouldn’t say he necessarily prefers it, he just really enjoys them as their own thing.

He’s a busy guy, so they happen fairly often when he has just enough time to give you a good fucking before he has to go off and do some champion stuff.

R = Risk (are they willing to experiment? do they take risks?)

Leon is enthusiastic and likes to learn, so he’ll give new things a try, provided they aren’t dangerous to you or him.

As a family-friendly celebrity, he tries his best to avoid risks that might expose the NSFW-side of his life. So he doesn’t do public stuff. He still, as mentioned in D, sexts often, but that kind of scandal is a whole lot easier to handle if they’re ever leaked.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Some days this man could go for HOURS. Other days it’s a one and done. Depends on his mood honestly. And even if it’s just one round, it’s not a short one either. He’s the motherfucking champion, not a one-minute man.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not a huge fan of using toys on you, but not opposed to it. He prefers to do it himself, show you why he’s your champion, and he doesn’t need any toys to get you off. It’s a pride thing really.

But again, he does sometimes incorporate a vibrator when he’s pleasing you, but only when asked to.

He does own a fleshlight, but since you came around, he doesn’t use it nearly as often ;)

U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

He’s playful, that’s for sure, but never mean to you. He edges you sometimes, but always lets you orgasm, and never ruins it.

V = Volume (how loud are they? what sounds do they make?)

He loves to moan, and loudly too. He also groans and grunts, and talks dirty to you. Even in the Wyndon locker room, the crowds are usually still cheering his name long after he’s returned to you. It’s only fair he cheers yours too.

W = Wild Card (a random nsfw headcanon.)

Definitely likes, and encourages, you calling him ‘Champion’ in bed. In fact, he might like it too much, because one time in a non-sexual situation you referred to him as your ‘Champion’ and he got an instant boner.

X = X-Ray (what’s going on in those pants?)

My man is PACKING. He’s got a long, ridiculously thick dick, with a rosy tip and a prominent vein along the underside. He’s uncircumcised.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His family-friendly reputation is indeed a façade, because in truth this man is a thirsty bitch. If he could have sex every day, he would.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly do they fall asleep afterward?)

Sex is stress relief for him, and if he’s already tired before you fuck, he’d literally gonna wipe you two off and immediately crawl back into bed to sleep. If he’s not tired, he’ll just relax with you for a bit, go for another round or two if you’re still in the mood.

#champion leon #champion leon headcanons #champion leon x reader #trainer leon #trainer leon x reader #trainer leon headcanons #leon pokemon headcanons #leon pokemon #request #boopy's thirst corner #boopy simping over leon again

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ggukkiereads · 3 years

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Hi 💓

It is the month of Ramadan and I want to avoid reading any smutty/steamy fics for the month. Which is why I was wondering if you have any Jungkook or Taehyung non smut fic recs? It can be fluff or anything just no explicit sex scenes. Thank you for your recommendations you are literally my favorite page on this platform 💜✨

🌷 Hello @dhabatae101. First, I wish you and other followers a happy, safe, and blessed Ramadan. Ramadan Mubarak! ✨

I decided to answer this right away so I tried compiling my reblogs (plus those fics I haven’t reviewed yet) and authors that “specialize” in fluff/angst. However, the list went on and on 🤭. So, I will split this post into two:

Part 1: authors that have more SFW content in their catalog (you are here)

Part 2: non-smut fics (my reblogs + other recs) - Taehyung | Jungkook

(Fluff/Angst) Smut-less Fics | Taehyung & Jungkook

🌷 Part 1 (Recommended Authors)

@jimlingss - Kina’s masterlist is just a dream. No two stories are the same and every fic is just memorable. A truly prolific and consistent writer. Usually witty, fluffy, and charming but the angsty fics are also deadly. I posted my fave JJK and KTH fics - the Worshipers Series can be read independently but better if read sequentially to better understand the “universe”. The Slice of Life Series is also a must, but you can read the KTH and JJK fics on their own but I seriously love ALL 💖.

Worshipers of the Sky - KTH | series [3/3] | 35k | God AU, Goddess!OC, Sacrifice!Taehyung, Worshipers Series | F, some A

Worshipers of the Sea - JJK | one shot | 16.3k | Pirate AU, Mermaid AU, God AU, Worshipers Series | F, A

President’s Son - KTH | series [20/20] | 80k | Bodyguard AU (reader), Slice of Life Sereis, Slow Burn | F

Sugar and Coffee - JJK | series [23/23] 101k | Patisserie School AU, Best Friend AU, Enemies to Lovers (slight), Slice of Life Series | F

Love So Shallow - KTH | series [3/3] | 34.8k | College AU, eventual Roommate AU, Best Friend AU, Humor | F, slight A ⭐ #holygrailfic

Black Waltz - KTH | two shot | Butler AU, Historical AU | F, A (ah I love Taehyung’s characterization here)

Moirai - KTH | series [8/8] | 46.9k | isekai au, fantasy au, reborn as a villain in a video game | F, A

Rent a Boyfriend - KTH | I noticed this is a crowd favorite, it might end up yours too =)

A Fairy Crime - KTH | one shot | Fairy godmother OC to grant someone a happy ever after | F, A, crack

Date in a Box - JJK | one shot | 9.7k | Date Planner (like wedding planner but make it a service for dating) | F, F, F

His Name - JJK | series [8/8] | 52.4k | Multiple Personality AU, based on Kill Me, Heal Me (this is one of my favorite Korean drama series so I really enjoyed this fic series too) | A

A Piece of Moonlight - JJK | one shot | 22k | Warrior AU, Mulan AU | really angsty though

*didn’t include Chess of Ice (since this is in the Jungkook Jock AU list)

@inktae - If you’ve been following me I always rave about this author. Mostly her work is of fantasy genre but has a slice of life tone. Her fics are just masterpieces - just beautifully written and viscerally gripping. They remind me of Ghibli films for some reason (like the tone). You can check their fics here (just avoid those with M, usually with sexual content but honestly it’s not explicit). I love everything but if you want to start somewhere, you can try:

Blue Orchids, Moonlight, Home After Rain - JJK Soulmate AU, Hanahaki AU, Angst ⭐ #holygrailfic

First Light - KTH x R x JJK | raved about it here (angst)

Away From the Sun - KTH | soulmate AU

The train of lost souls - JJK, feat JHS | fantasy AU | A

The swirling Ways of Stars - JJK, fantasy | A, F

@gukyi - for your enemies to lovers needs. This is one of my favorite tropes so I just love that there is a writer that ‘specializes” in this. Please check their masterlist and take note of fics with (smut). Try:

Four Weeks - KTH, College AU, stuck in campus for four weeks during Christmas

Good Luck Charm - KTH, roommates, actor AU

Moonlight Melody + Part 2 - JJK, fake dating, orchestra AU | F, A

Coffee Shop Contract - JJK, fake dating, college AU | F

If I Told You - JJK, college, unrequited love/pining | F, A

Midas - JJK, magical realism | F, A

Love Project - JJK, comedy, photography assignment | F

@koorara - ugh I just adore their writing. Tooth-rotting fluff seems effortless with her drabbles/short stories. You can check their fics here. My faves:

Driving Me Wild - JJK, demon au, roommate au, ongoing drabble series but you can read it (not cliffhanger-ish), soulmate au | my review (tooth-rotting fluff)

His Dandelion - KTH, someone sent an ask about this you can read the description | A

Down and Down - JJK | MMA fighter, slight making out | A, F

The Pitter Patter of the Heart - skip the drabble with mature content, husband au, lecturer jungkook, this is super cuuuute | tooth-rotting fluff

@suhdays - it’s just amazing to find a writer with a non-smut catalog. Writing is just pure and focused on the plot and emotional/character development. Please give their masterlist lots of love. My faves:

Access Granted - I like hacker Jungkook. SMAU format

A Cinderella Story - JJK | also based on the movie | F, A

Wherever You Are - JJK | vampire, ceo (I love this) | A, F

Terms of Endearment - JJK | poet jjk x artist reader | F

Bucket List - JJK | friends to lovers (this is adorable! my review of this is still in the drafts like the rest of the fics 😥) | F, slight A

Camp Crush - KTH | brother’s best friend (this is funny like I was just smiling all throughout)

Made of Honor - KTH | SMAU, recently completed! Like the movie

Baby I’m a Fool - JJK | Fake Dating, Co-worker AU, E2L | F, A

@vanaera - her Yoongi coworker E2L series is something I’m always waiting for and I don’t think her other fics contain smut. Please check The Prince and His Rose (bestfriend AU, College AU, childhood friends, football player x writer!reader Jungkook, fluff/angst)

@namjoonchronicles - so I recently binged on this author’s writing (still bingeing on her other members’ fics). Their catalog has a lot of Domestic AUs which are beautiful slice of life pieces. It could be as simple as folding the laundry but it would be so meaningful. I said in one of my reviews that their domestic fics has same vibes as illustrator Puung’s Love is in Small Things. I would like to post my favorites here but I think I recently just reviewed/reblogged tons of their work (you can search my blog for the reviews). Please check their masterlist. Granite Glow is my ⭐ #holygrailfic

@rosaetae - if you like angst that hurts but it all makes sense why the situation had to be angsty, then her masterlist is something to binge on. Not all are angsty, just mind the tags for pure “fluff”. My favorites:

The Bedtime Contract - KTH, roommates, enemies to lovers, sort of cuddle buddy?, fluff but there’s slight angst | F, A

Dream a Little Dream of Me - KTH, soulmate au, could hear soulmate’s voice, waitress x songwriter |

Lavender + Vanilla - KTH, a story about a boy who had forgotten his memory of you

Chrysanthemum Effect - KTH (JJK has a side story too), Hanahaki AU

Among the Evergreen - JJK, Christmas AU, E2L | F

Sweet Apple Biscuits - JJK, receives letter from their future self asking to save one boy ⭐ | A, slight F

Best Thing He Never Had 01 02 03 04 05 06 - JJK, bestfriends to lovers | A, F

Better Late Than Never - JJK drabble, exes AU, fake dating (I love this scenario, there’s one funny moment here with Jungkook saying his feelings through a door) | A, F

@justimajin - another favorite of mine - her fics actually try different genres/scenarios and are usually series. I find it fun to wait on episodes weekly. A consistent writer too. See masterlist here. Selected works:

Catching a Case of Doctor Blues - KTH, medical AU, enemies to lovers, slice of life

Swapped - JJK, body swap, really fluffy! I reviewed it before and screamed at how fluffy this is 😍 | tooth-rotting fluff

A Lone Wolf’s Howl - JJK, werewolf AU, sort of enemies/rivals, hunter AU, bestfriend. Note: there is a chapter with smut, you can skip that portion | A, F, S

@bubmyg - oh wow her works are just tooth-rotting fluffy goodness too (especially the Yoongi drabbles/one shots). But please check her fics for Tae and Koo. My picks:

Can’t Fake a Feeling - KTH, F2L, Fake Dating, College AU, Fuckboy (not smut)

Extra Cheese Sauce, Please - KTH, F2L, College, friends keep setting them up

Strawberry Boy - JJK, I just reblogged this weeks ago so you probably have read this | tooth-rotting fluff

Wonder - pool boy!jungkook x journalist!reader | F

Not a Date - JJK | one shot + drabble series, kinda E2L. cute | tooth-rotting fluff

Dare to Begin - JJK | college au, idiots to lovers, broke college students | tooth-rotting fluff

gcfguk + idcilh - a youtuber!jeongguk drabble series | F

you can check their masterlist for the other drabbles and fics I haven’t read/included

@cupofteaguk - a writer whose fics end up in my fic rec lists regularly. When I get asked about certain tropes, I always remember one or two of her fics. Their Reputation Series is binge-worthy but they also have plenty of scenarios/tropes to choose from. You can find a lot of KTH or JJK fluff-based fics here (or other members too):

the maze to you - KTH | soulmate au | angst

along the boardwalk - KTH | skater boy/college au | fluff

it’s all fun & games - JJK | fake dating au | fluff

say you won’t let go - JJK | soulmate au | fluff

on the road (to you) - JJK | road trip/strangers to lovers au | fluff

new romantics - JJK | hogwarts au, quidditch player, enemies to lovers | F, A

@crystaljins - another writer with fics that have well-developed plot, great angst and great endings. I recommend all (check other members’ fics here). Extra love for:

Schemes and Tricks to Win Her Heart - KTH | series [5/5] | 22.5k | Fake Dating, feat Chaebol/Rich Seokjin, Taehyung is Jin’s Little Brother, and OC is Tae’s bestfriend

I haven’t read the new Taehyung Christmas fic yet but give it a spin =)

@springbean - I love her story concepts and ideas! When I discovered her, I just binged on their work and I enjoy every new fic she releases. My personal favorites are listed below, but you can also check her masterlist here:

Onyx - JJK | cyberpunk AU, abo dynamics (it is sooo interesting to use abo dynamics this way. Usually abo is associated with werewolf aus but this is like a social classification system in this fic. It is still ongoing but it’s the type of story you can read and remember easily so in case it gets updated you can jump into the next chapter) ongoing | A, F

Wolfsbane - KTH | Werewolf AU, college, soulmates (included in my KTH werewolf fic recs)

Cursed - JJK | Prince x Mage/Witch, Fantasy, Medieval, E2L, action (basically has all AUs I like) ongoing

Enshrined - JJK | this is new! fantasy, fae world, isekai, childhood friends, eventual smut (?) but since we’re not there yet you can still read it smut-less ongoing

@army-author - another prolific writer with a catalog you can binge on. I recently reblogged/reviewed some of my favorites but believe me there are more (I am just lazy with reviewing and such). Personal faves:

Gamomania - JJK | childhood friends | tooth-rotting fluff, slight S

X and O - KTH | fake dating, single parent, teacher AU

A Monster Crush - KTH | childhood friends, angst, fluff, horror, implied S ongoing

All This Stigma - KTH | fwb au, unplanned pregnancy, arranged marriage, divorce, really angsty but I love it!

The Village Idiots - JJK | soulmate au, childhood friends, they’re soulmate-less (or are they?) | tooth-rotting fluff

The Alchemy of Amor - JJK | fantasy au, royalty au, enemies to lovers (new) | F

Fire and Ice - JJK | oh this is probably the first I’ve read from the author, E2L but make it fluffy rivals (he’s fire and she can yield ice), fantasy au, magic | F

Black and White Christmas - JJK | Office AU | F

@thedefinitionofbts - I love how emotionally invested I get when reading their fics. Most of their fics are smut-less but deeply rooted in emotions so I remember the story a lot even if I’ve read some years or months ago (I said in my werewolf fic rec list that there’s this Jungkook fic of theirs that’s really sad and I still imagine him waiting for OC.) Just powerful storytelling. You can check their masterlist and mind the fics with smut. I wanted to list my favorites here but I’ll end up listing everything. If you want to start a fic, I recommend:

A Story that We Paint - KTH x R x JJK | Sci-fi, College AU, Lucid Dreams AU | A, slight F

Our First and Last - JJK, VMIN | Soulmate AU, Sci-Fi | A, F

Kingdom of Crystal Snow - KTH | Christmas, Royalty (yay something purely fluffy)

Corner of the Universe - KTH | Reincarnation AU

other fics I like have S content or too sad

@threeletterslife - I love her fics because they make me dwell and ponder on things but themes are very heavy (I think she has one crack fic though). No smut and you can try all her works if you are in the mood for angst, some pondering, etc. Masterlist here. You can read the Love Chaser Series (though you have to read the Yoongi series first before reading Jungkook’s, it’s one universe).

Whipped with a Cherry on Top - KTH | friends to lovers, crack

The Time Traveler’s Playbook - KTH | time travel AU | F, A

Cuss Out - JJK | High school AU, crack | F

@artaefact - just feel good scenarios and I love her drabbles! I’ve reblogged and oohed aahed over the drabbles that are short but powerful scenarios.

incandesce + warmth drabble - JJK (safe to say, you can read all their drabbles) | F

Aeturnal - KTH | fantasy au, royalty au (I loooove this. it has inexplicit S though, you can skip)

A Letter in Roses - KTH | husband au, valentine au

Calling You Mine - JJK | College AU, S2L, tooth-rotting fluff

@augustbutwinter - a writer to watch out for. August delivers so much even with minimal word count; they can get you emotional (fluffy or angsty) and it is so easy to visualize the image she is trying to describe. Just wonderful. The words just flow easily too so the fics are not difficult to read/imagine. I recommend the ff:

My Tears Ricochet - KTH | ghost AU, roommate AU, fluff (sometimes angsty), drabble series ⭐⭐

Rose Coloured - JJK | post college AU, some sort of reunion with an old flame | F

@akinnie75 - What a wonderful storyteller. I would binge on her fics for their plot/storylines. Usually it feels as if you are reading a tale. Several of their fics ended up in my #holygrailfics (the namjoon and jimin ones). You can try:

Ghost Marriage - JJK | fantasy, idol au, kind of arranged marriage | A, F

Until Spring 1 | 2 - JJK | Romance, Fantasy, visited the Freesia Island for Spring but taken for Arranged Marriage instead | A, F

Moonchild - KTH | a tale about the legendary Moonchild, a mythical creature known for its ability to heal life of all sorts

🌷ggukkienote:

I’d also like to recommend checking the fics in each of the reading lists and Fic Recs by theme. You’ll find these lists in the NAVI page. Fics/Titles included per list are usually tagged for A/S/F content.

I will update this once I remember other authors that focus on A/F

Part 2 (Fic Recs) - linked top of this post

#jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fic recs #taehyung fic recs #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung fluff #jungkook fluff #ggukkiereadingcollection #asks #dhabatae101 #bts fluffy fic recs #bts angst fic recs #bts x reader

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literallymechanical · 3 years

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Book Recommendations? Book Recommendations!

This is the list of books I've read during the pandemic, and let me tell you, I am doing all sorts of decision paralysis on what I should read next. If any of y'all vibe with these, do you have anything you'd recommend? Other than the obvious sequels. Ideally nothing too YA-ish, right now.

In reverse chronological order: Skyward, Ancillary Justice, A Desolation Called Peace, A Memory Called Empire, Spinning Silver, Empress of Forever, Red Mars, The Priory Of The Orange Tree, This Is How You Lose The Time War, Harrow the Ninth, Gideon the Ninth, Rhythm of War, Dawnshard, The Ruin of Angels, and Four Roads Cross. I've put a little review of each of them under the cut!

Skyward, by Brandon Sanderson, 2018. Your usual story about an outcast, misunderstood teenage girl finding an injured dragon and nursing it back to health, except instead of a dragon it's a starfighter spaceship. Really solid YA scifi with Sanderson's trademark meticulous worldbuilding. An enjoyable read, though much lighter than his usual epic fantasy.

Ancillary Justice, by Ann Leckie, 2013. Honestly, I didn't enjoy this one. It was pitched as a queer science fiction space opera, but the "queer" bit was gimmicky and falls apart if you think about it, I didn't find the characters interesting, and the plot didn't even try to hide that it was just a list of checkboxes. Felt like a YA novel that refused to admit it. This is the only book on this list that I personally wouldn't recommend. But all my friends seemed to enjoy it, so I might be the odd one out here.

A Memory Called Empire and A Desolation Called Peace, by Arkadiy Martine, 2019 and 2021. The first two books in what will presumably be a trilogy, and the best stories I've read in a long time. Twisty political thrillers wrapped up in gorgeous science fiction, and by FAR my favorite books on this list. Vibrant characters with nuanced relationships, scifi worldbuilding that is frankly breathtaking, a captivating story, and an all-around delight to read. Language, identity, colonialism/imperialism, and cultural assimilation are tackled through the lens of scifi. In my opinion, this is what science fiction should be. Also there are lesbians. Above every other book here I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THESE ONES. Martine seriously earned her Hugo Award.

Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik, 2018. Folklore-fantasy about three young women — the daughter of a jewish moneylender, a poor peasant girl from an abusive home, and the daughter of a nobleman who wants to marry her to the Tsar — caught up in a conflict between the Faerie realms, the human world, and something much more sinister than either. Highly recommend, especially if you're jewish.

Empress of Forever, by Max Gladstone, 2019. A fantastical science fiction breakneck-pace adventure romp that puts its foot on the gas in Chapter 2 and doesn't let up. It's also quite explicitly a genderbent retelling of the classic Chinese epic Journey to the West, with more lesbians this time. This book has all kinds of energy, extremely fun characters with more depth than you'd expect, and some bonkers high-concept SF. Highly recommend if you like swashbuckling found-family adventure stories, and wlw romance.

Red Mars, by Kim Stanley Robinson, 1992. Every book, movie, and TV show about colonizing Mars since Red Mars was written owes pretty much everything to this book. It can be a bit dense if you're not up for lengthy (but gorgeous!) descriptions of Martian landscapes, and there are one or two bits where you just have to keep in mind that it was the 90's and this was quite progressive for its day. That being said, I am a sucker for a two-page description of a martian sunset. If crunchy hard-science fiction thrillers (emphasis on the "science") are your thing, I recommend this one. I'll read the sequels (Blue Mars and Green Mars) at some point.

The Priory of the Orange Tree, by Samantha Shannon, 2019. The prose and plot read like classic high fantasy, but with a modern eye towards character-driven storytelling. It's not often that you get something that feels so classic and so modern at the same time. Scratches that Lord of the Rings itch, with Queens and dragons and glorious heroes, but queer romance and a heavy focus on character development makes this a modern fantasy classic. Highly recommend if you like doorstopper-length high fantasy, and lesbians.

This Is How You Lose The Time War, by Max Gladstone and Amal El-Mohtar, 2019. A novella, you can read it in a couple of days — or a single marathon sitting, if you get into it. Gladstone (same author as Empress of Forever) and El-Mohtar take turns writing letters back and forth from time-traveling spies of rival timelines: Red works for the post-singularity mechanical Agency, and Blue fights for the Garden, a post-solarpunk biofuture. Their letters start out as taunts, and gradually change in tone as each develops a grudging respect for her rival. That rivalry blossoms — or compiles — into something deeper. It's emotional and raw, and it cartwheels merrily down the tightrope of fantasy, science fiction, and poetry. Highly recommend, though the flowery prose and gleeful disregard for explaining itself to the audience might be off-putting for some.

Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir, 2019 and 2020. I'll let the pull quote from on the cover of Gideon from Charles Stross' review describe these: "Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic palace in space! Decadent nobles vie to serve the deathless emperor! Skeletons!" This one is horrifying, and it's funny, but I wouldn't call it comedy-horror. It kind of defies genre, outside the very broadest scope of "science fantasy." Read it if you like lots of gore, graphic violence, madcap humor, and extremely unhealthy, codependent, dysfunctional relationships that are always on the verge of self-destructing into multiple-homicide. Highly recommend.

Rhythm of War and Dawnshard, by Brandon Sanderson, 2020. Rhythm of War is book 4 of the Stormlight Archives, one of several epic fantasy series by Brandon Sanderson. Dawnshard is a novella set between books 3 and 4. This is the same author as Skyward, but intended for a more mature audience. Stormlight is definitely my favorite epic fantasy series, and I've read a lot of epic fantasy. These books have some extremely interesting takes on racism, mental illness, trauma, disability, identity, family, and regret, far more so than pretty much any other high fantasy I've read. The first book is The Way of Kings, and if you like bigass doorstopper multi-book fantasy series, The Stormlight Archives should be at the top of your list.

Four Roads Cross and The Ruin of Angels, by Max Gladstone, 2016 and 2017. While Empress of Forever and Time War were standalone novels, these are books 5 and 6 in Gladstone's Craft Sequence, and they are absolutely brilliant. This is a world where about sixty years ago, humankind went to war with the Gods, and the Gods lost. "Magic" in this world is more or less synonymous with "legal contracts," where you can literally sell your soul to your student loan company and resurrecting a dead god is basically bankruptcy restructuring. "Necromancer" is roughly synonymous with "lawyer." The first five books can be read more-or-less out of order, but I recommend you start with Three Parts Dead. Gladstone is probably my favorite author these days. Everything he writes feel like it could be a poem. Also, once again, lesbians.

I am really not sure why about 2/3 of these books are about lesbians. Like seriously, I went into almost all of these books completely cold. The only ones where I knew ahead of time to expect lesbians were the Locked Tomb books, and The Priory of the Orange Tree. I don't know if this is just because a lot of modern scifi and fantasy has lesbians, or if all my friends who recommend me books are queer, or if it's just a coincidence, but hey, I'm not complaining.

#books

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the-widow-sisters · 3 years

Text

Returning the Favor

Summary: After Natasha and Yelena decided they needed to go find Alexei, Natasha ends up stopping the car at a small, rundown inn so the two of them can rest. When they are getting ready for bed, Yelena is reminded of all those ugly marks on Natasha's back, and she feels compelled to try to help in some way. Strangely enough, Natasha accepts her help. Canon compliant.

Word Count: 3120

The women had been driving for quite some time that evening and had fallen into a mostly comfortable silence as Natasha focused on driving and Yelena mentally celebrated the fact that Natasha actually liked her vest that she was so proud of.

However, they both were extremely exhausted by now, and they had started looking for places to stop and stay.

After several minutes of searching, Natasha finally pulled in and stopped at a small, rundown inn that looked like one of the sleaziest spots in town.

“It’s not the Ritz Carlton, but it’ll do,” Natasha muttered under her breath as she unbuckled her seat belt, and Yelena glanced at her with some confusion, trying not to let too much of the emotion invade her features. The last thing that she wanted to do was look uneducated or unknowing in front of Natasha.

“I’ve slept in worse places,” Yelena finally settled for wryly admitting, and Natasha just looked at her with something that resembled guilt. However, it was gone as soon as it appeared, and they both got out of the car, heading for the front of the little inn.

Yelena just lingered near Natasha as the redhead asked for a room for the both of them, and she took a moment to analyze anyone she saw and the general area. She needed to make sure that the both of them would not be compromised or caught.

In the midst of her pre-planning, she had not realized that Natasha had finished getting a room.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Natasha called, and Yelena looked quickly at Natasha, silently questioning what she needed.

“What?”

“Can you go get our bag?” Natasha questioned, and Yelena somewhat begrudgingly nodded in agreeance, not really sure if she liked being the bag-fetcher, but she complied as Natasha chucked the keys in her direction. Yelena caught them easily.

“We’re in room 19. It’s only got one bed, but we’ll figure something out,” Natasha told her with all the calmness in the world. Yelena, however, was still stuck on the fact that she and the older woman were going to be sharing a bed.

It was something that she longed for throughout her many years in the Red Room, wishing they could be like they were as kids when they would crawl in bed together and wrap their arms around each other. She really needed that comfort through the horrors and tragedies she had to endure. Now that she was actually going to get her wish, she was feeling more anxious about it than anything. Things were not the same with her and Natasha, and she could not get a good read on the redhead.

Nevertheless, she decided to just go and get the bag and worry about the bed arrangements later.

Once she headed up to the room with the bag slung over her arm, she quickly noticed that Natasha had already peeled the bedcovers back and was about to sit on the edge of the bed and remove her shoes. It was then that Yelena truly considered something that she should have thought of beforehand. Yelena just stood stock still, her eyes shifting about as she scanned the room. Natasha seemed to realize her tenseness and spoke.

“What?”

“We need to check for cameras,” Yelena spoke quietly, worrying they could be heard.

“I already did,” Natasha immediately assured her, and Yelena found herself surprised that the redhead had bothered with it. She would have assumed that Natasha was long over even remotely thinking of that sort of thing.

She guessed some habits just never die.

“Well, aren’t you ever the golden child?” Yelena muttered under her breath, a tiny bit of bitterness easing into her tone but mostly finding herself filled with some strange sense of being cared for.

Yelena shook those thoughts from her head, remembering the reality of their situation. Yelena uncomfortably stood near her side of the bed, already feeling her stomach twist with the fact that she was going to have to share a bed with someone that she so desperately wanted to get close to and that seemed to not really want her all that close.

Once she kicked her shoes off, she looked back up in Natasha’s direction, just watching her as she tiredly removed her own shoes. Her eyes swiftly locked onto the bit of skin on her back that was exposed as she bent over slightly. Yelena felt her heart ache as she was intensely reminded of the bruises covering Natasha’s back in giant, hideous splotches.

It made her hurt, and now that the image was back in her head, she could not quite get it out. It was bothering her relentlessly, and she quickly considered the possibilities and how she could at least get a better look at the marks.

It was then that she thought of the perfect excuse. Yelena cleared her throat a bit.

“Hey, um… Since you bandaged my arm earlier… I was wondering if you wanted me to take a look at your back? You know, returning the favor and all,” Yelena offered, forcing a sense of casualness and nonchalance in her voice when she was really feeling something much more overwhelming. It constricted in her chest, squeezing her heart as she made the tender offer to someone that she somehow adored despite the fact that she had not seen her in years and years.

She could see Natasha stiffen a bit from her position sitting on the edge of the opposite side of the bed. Yelena just watched her carefully, feeling sure that the redhead was going to turn her down.

Honestly, she was beginning to regret asking her at all. She knew that it probably sounded weird, and it honestly made her feel a little weird to say anything at all. However, all she knew was that every time she looked at Natasha’s jacket-covered back, all she could think about was the ugly bruises that she had caught sight of when they were at the safehouse. Even now, Natasha’s thin, black shirt did little to take the image from Yelena’s mind.

She was about to add onto her last statement and try to write it off as a joke or something until Natasha suddenly replied.

“If you want,” Natasha consented, her head turning to the side as she glanced in the blonde’s direction. Yelena awkwardly shuffled over, easing onto the bed behind the redheaded woman. She paused for just a moment before touching the older woman’s shirt, trying to gather her nerve.

It had been so long since she had been so close with Natasha. Granted, they had their close-combat fight from earlier, but she was completely and terribly out of practice as far as peaceful, intimate contact with this person that was somehow so important to her.

Some part of her was weirded out by the whole thing, but another, somehow louder part of her was screaming how right it felt and how much she just wanted to hug the person in front of her, regardless of the anger, hurt, and many other mixed emotions that had been running through her rampantly.

Yelena gently looped her fingers around the hem of Natasha’s shirt and pulled up. She kept going until the shirt hung itself around Natasha’s shoulders, exposing the ugly marring that had been concealed beneath the fabric. It was then that she realized that Natasha’s back was not just bruised but there was also some raw skin there that was just starting to heal a little.

Almost before she could think better of it or control herself, Yelena reached her free hand out to Natasha’s back, gently touching the ugly purple-red splotches with the most feather-light contact she could muster.

Her astute observational skills did not miss how the muscles of Natasha’s back tensed up with the contact. However, other than that, the redhead showed no resistance to her. Yelena trailed her fingers down the older woman’s back, feeling the skin, muscle, scar, bruising and raw flesh that was there.

To her surprise, there was an ugly scar on the lower part of Natasha’s back, and Yelena ran her thumb over it gently, noticing how the skin on it was peeling up some. It was no doubt reopened somewhat from her activity throughout the day and the amount of falling and scrapes they had. Natasha never moved out from under her touch, and she actually hardly moved at all outside of the controlled breaths she was taking.

The sight of these things made her stomach flip and her chest hurt. And she could not help but feel extremely guilty for her own actions earlier. She knew she could not have made these wounds any better by slamming Natasha into every wall she could find. The guilt was almost stifling, and it made her irrational.

So irrational that Yelena felt a tug in her to just hug the redhead from behind. But she pushed away that urge as quickly as it came, negating it and shoving it in some locked part of herself. However, much to her frustration, it still lingered a bit within her despite her best efforts.

“You’ve got a lot of booboos,” Yelena muttered under her breath, trying to bring at least a hint of levity to the situation since she was so uncomfortable with her own feelings. Natasha huffed a bit, her muscles in her back moving just a bit with the contraction of her chest.

“Booboos seem to be the thing that I have most of,” Natasha replied softly, her voice some mix of bitterness and a poor attempt at a reciprocation of Yelena’s humor. However, it came out much more tense than it should have, and Yelena found herself at a loss as to what to say.

Things quickly grew quiet again, falling back into that awkward silence between them. Yelena knew logically that there was nothing that she could do for the bruises and raw places on Natasha’s back, but she still felt her heart aching as if she needed to do something.

“There’s some antibiotic ointment in the bag over there,” Natasha pointed out suddenly, almost as if she sensed Yelena’s difficulty and hesitance to leave Natasha in her current state without some sort of attention.

“I bought it earlier,” Natasha explained simply, her voice quiet as she explained its presence. Yelena hesitated for a moment more before heading over to the bag and searching through it, pulling out the ointment and then heading back to Natasha.

She knew the redhead was doing this mostly for Yelena’s benefit since the antibiotic ointment was not going to do much for the places on Natasha’s back. However, she desperately hoped that Natasha did not see through her motives and realize that she just wanted to be close with her. It was hard enough for Yelena to admit to herself, and she could not imagine the humiliation if Natasha found out about it.

Yelena sat just behind Natasha, her legs folded together as she opened the container and placed it between her legs. She then reached a hand up to help keep the shirt in place where it was bunched up around Natasha’s shoulders.

Yelena dipped her free hand in the ointment, making sure her fingers were coated with the sticky stuff. She then hesitated for just a moment, hovering over Natasha’s shoulder blade. She waited for a long moment, trying to gather the nerve, and once she finally managed to get just enough courage, she made contact with Natasha’s skin.

Natasha let out a breath that was not quite a hiss, but it was definitely a sigh of discomfort and slight pain. Yelena knew that the stuff was not made to burn, but she also knew that sometimes medication burned anyway despite what it said on the container. She did not reply with an apology, knowing it would do no good. Plus, she could not exactly trust her voice to work at this moment.

Yelena worked at the place gently with her fingers, rubbing the ointment into Natasha’s skin and trying to get the stuff to actually sink in some so it could help her sister. Natasha loosened gradually as Yelena almost massaged her back.

The blonde ran her palm over the wound, trying to spread the ointment across her back. There were very few raw places on Natasha’s back but when she hit one, Natasha’s muscles would tense slightly before relaxing considerably.

Yelena then moved across Natasha’s back to the other shoulder, rubbing a small bit across the relatively small abrasion there. Natasha did not react to that one, and she assumed it was mostly just bruising.

When Yelena moved down to the lower parts of her back, however, Natasha stiffened quite a bit, the quietest of noises escaping her. If Yelena had not been trained to listen for things as she had, she would have definitely missed it.

Yelena ached to do or say something that might ease the pain, but she had no idea what. She just settled for rubbing the stuff more gently and speeding up her work over the area. She then dabbed a bit of the ointment on her index finger before rubbing it on Natasha’s scar. She knew that there was not much reason to do it there, but she somehow wanted to let Natasha know that she was paying attention and that she cared.

Natasha had been extremely hardened to her throughout their time together so far, but she had caught small glimpses of Natasha just looking at her with something that was infuriatingly real. Something that was completely opposite of the words that Natasha kept repeating and seemed to have taken up as her mantra.

You weren’t really my sister.

That stung more than anything that Yelena had heard in years. It had come from someone so close to her, someone that she absolutely loved so much that it hurt. The only thing that had eased the pain was the way that Natasha kept gazing at her with that tender, loving, soft look in her eyes. Of course, every time she looked in Natasha’s direction in an attempt to get a better look at the expression, Natasha returned to her calculating, quietly brooding countenance.

She never said anything to acknowledge it, but she would stare at Natasha for a long moment to silently inform Natasha that she was indeed paying attention and knew that she secretly cared still.

Her returning stares must have done something, because when Natasha bandaged her arm that evening, Natasha had that love and care in her eyes that she had been trying so desperately to hide. It was not as strong as it could have been, but it was still plenty enough to make Yelena’s heart hurt with the need to be close with the person that she considered to be her sister.

“How bad is it back there?” Natasha questioned, and it was then that Yelena realized how long she had been focusing on Natasha’s back. Yelena pulled her hand away quickly as if she had been burned and used her clean hand to pull down Natasha’s shirt over the wounds carefully.

“You look like someone tied you to the back of a truck and drug you behind them on the road,” Yelena informed her simply, trying to keep the small note of worry out of her voice and finding that she was failing miserably.

“That’s reassuring,” Natasha replied, her voice completely deadpan, and Yelena smirked a tiny bit as she headed for the bathroom to wash her hands.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Yelena responded with just as much sarcasm in her tone as Natasha had used. Once she had cleaned her hands, she headed back into the room, feeling her muscles growing a little tired from the events of the day. Natasha had already moved into the bed, laying on her side comfortably as she faced the wall. Yelena moved onto her side, sliding underneath the blankets and positioning herself.

However, Yelena bristled just a little as she realized that there were too many ways for people with ill intentions to easily get in. There was a window near Natasha on her side of the bed, and Yelena’s side of the bed was not far from the door. It made her terribly uncomfortable as soon as she actually considered the arrangement.

“I’ll take the first watch if you want,” Natasha offered quietly, and Yelena felt something in her chest melt. Natasha somehow knew that Yelena was uncomfortable and nervous, and it made Yelena feel strangely vulnerable and naked for the woman to be so well aware of it.

“No, I can. You’ve had a longer day than me,” Yelena expressed.

“We literally did the exact same things today,” Natasha informed her, and Yelena could hear the slightest hints of a smile in her voice.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t the one that fell and hit literally everything on the way down,” Yelena acknowledged, rolling over on her side to face Natasha. To her surprise, the redhead was already laying on her back and looking in her direction. Yelena’s mind was quickly overtaken with the almost completely undisguised affection in Natasha’s eyes.

This time was sort of like earlier that night, but it was so much stronger.

“I also was the one that landed on my feet when I hit the ground,” Natasha teasingly spoke, her voice soft, and Yelena was shaken from her stupor. She rolled her eyes, huffing slightly as she shrugged in response to the redhead.

“Fine, you take the first watch. Just make sure to wake me up so you can get some sleep, too,” Yelena informed her, turning her back to the redhead so she could face the door as they slept. Natasha did not move for a long moment, and Yelena could practically feel her gaze. The last thing the blonde was aware of was when the mattress shifted a bit as the older woman sat up in the bed to keep watch.

To her pure surprise, when Natasha woke her up for her turn to watch, Yelena realized that she had rested more well than she had in years and years. She could not remember a time that she slept so soundly without some sort of sedative.

As Natasha laid down in her place and started to try to sleep, Yelena could not help but marvel at the woman resting there quietly.

Somehow, although they had been separated for years now and things were somewhat awkward between them, Natasha still managed to make her feel safer than she ever had.

And that made some of her leftover anger and bitterness dissipate.

#yelena belova #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #black widow #widow sisters #marvel #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #black widow fic #black widow fanfic #black widow fanfiction #family #sharing a bed #gen fic

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goldenlaquer · 3 years

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oh shit I didn't mean to press send so early

uH Abuto breeding kink but uh reader's been trying to flirt with him all day but he couldn't get out of work because of The Menace, Kamui?

man oh man, it’s been a long while, hasn’t it? lemme me pour all the repressed feelings for Mr. A here. AFC meeting, start!

Abuto NSFW Headcanons:

Abuto doesn’t remember picking up another brat along the way.

Brat #1 was his fault, he can readily admit. The mile-long stacks of paperwork that precariously perch on top of his desk now? He had it coming. It’s a punishment of his own making that started all those years ago, from the first moment he stuck his meddling nose in between something that ought to have made its natural course. The overtime of today (and the many other days that will surely succeed it) is his penance, and Abuto, though indirectly (and rather unwillingly actually, but hey, who’s keeping track?), had signed up for it.

But Brat #2. No matter how much he scratches at his mug, he sure as hell didn’t ever sign up for a second one to come pattering into his office like she owns it, his shirt and nothing else hanging loosely over her shoulders like a trophy and a jaunty smile on her lips like no one else’s business. You demand (your exact words) that he gets some rest, that the work can wait (it really can’t) and that he must return himself back to you (shit, he wants to).

The first time, it’s adorable. It makes him break out into a grin and chuckle. It gives his tired geezer eyes a reprieve from black and white and numbers as they sweep down from your wiggling toes up to the where your naked thighs disappear under his shirt. It stirs his dick with interest, however: Tempting as it is, sweetheart, Abuto regretfully shrugs at you, humorously wagging his brows to soothe the no, but these papers don’t do themselves.

The second time, it’s still adorable. You pop your head in, playfully licking your lips, and tell him that you want his tender love and care, please, and while he wants nothing more, nothing more, to take you on that offer, the work is never-ending, and if he does them now then he’ll have so much more time to spend with you later. Surely you’re not that antsy to waste time with an ossan right? Abuto jokes. Patience!

Your wishes for him gradually grow more humble in the third, fourth, and fifth. You walk in, ask him to indulge in you, let you take care of him like he needs to be taken care of, or at the very least, maybe you can give him something to eat? And the every time that he has to double down and say no to that... well, it might just make him go and give Brat #1 a deserving knuckle-sandwich.

The sixth is where everything cracks. Makes him snap his pen and make the ink run down his fingers. It ruins a document as he watches how his rejection all day has given you no choice but resort to desperate measures.

You brace against the closed door, shaky legs spread wide apart as far as it can go without compromising the support. His shirt bunched up and cinched by the side of your arms, showing off the view of your sopping cunt, three fingers snugly buried in, a thumb rubbing frantically at your swollen clit.

“Y-you promised, “ you stutter off into a gasping mewl, jerking your chin further in, dew clinging to your lashes as you move your trembling hand. “Y-y-you p-promised. You, you said only t-three, three more h-h-hours—”

Yes, Abuto vaguely remembers that he did promise something like that, three hours ago. A promise he’s failed to keep, because there’s so much he has to do still.

Your hands speed up and your knees begins to dangerously buckle. A wretched cry spilling past your lips. You’re so, so close. He can tell. You’re about to finish what he couldn’t, taking matters into your hands because he was too busy and you were too impatient to simply wait. You do it in front of him as a punishment, trying to give yourself a good time while he’s working his ass off for you.

Abuto doesn’t raise his voice in anger often and he doesn’t do it now either, but the “Don’t.” that hisses out between his teeth has all the impact and intensity of it. The harsh sound hangs in the air between you. Mercifully your hands still, the chase to a paltry orgasm forgotten. Your eyes widen in surprise, shiny and doe-like.

The desk is perfectly split into two. Wood and paper rain down, hours of meticulous, hard work littering the ground. And Abuto walks through the carnage; he’s past caring.

Sweetheart, Darling, Doll. Brat. The petnames that he uses for you, breathed hotly against your mouth while he backs you up further against the door, easily swinging your legs around his waist and pushing your hips up and up until your quivering pussy is dragged against the front of his open pants, his thick length catching on your soft lips. Your hands scrabble across his chest, breathing hard in excitement, kneading as his shoulders. There’s a flash of emotion across your pretty face. Victory. Abuto growls, inflamed by the audacity. You really have too much time on your hands, don’t you? Must be nice. Maybe he’s been spoiling you too much, readily giving in to what you want, whenever and wherever you want it. Because the moment that he directs his attention elsewhere, you suddenly don’t know how to act right.

Or is it because of something else? Is this what it is? His cockhead bobs against your clenching hole, and he has to quell the faint surprise as he’s practically sucked in. He bends his head to look at where you connect, at the absolute mess of a state your cunt is in, folds dripping and your clit red and engorged. You can’t even keep a squeeze on him more than 2 seconds, your walls anxiously contracting around him like it’s afraid that he’ll leave. He hasn’t done a single thing to warrant this reaction and you’re already desperate. Too desperate. Somehow, Abuto tells you, he thinks that this goes way beyond you just missing him.

I-it’s just... it’s just... I don’t know. You’ve been caught, and you try to avoid answering by thunking your head against the door behind you, struggling to keep yourself from bursting around the seams as you adjust to the delicious throbs of cock in you.

Ah, no. He’s sure that you do know. A big hand slithers under his shirt, palming your sensitive tummy. What’s the matter? What’s got you acting this way? Abuto, damn him, takes a softer approach, beguiling his tone and rubbing his thumb in comfort on your skin. He can take care of it. You know he can always take care of you.

Of course, it works. You can’t help the shaky jolts of your hips as you disclose the reason, burrowing his cock in deeper as you tell him how you’ve been worked up all day, thinking about just how much you wanted to be full with him, how much you wanted to spread your thighs for him as he takes his reward for all the hard work he’s been doing for you, reaping his benefits again and again, round after round, until you’re dripping his seed down your thighs, and until your tummy feels full.

“A-a-and...” You make bashful eye-contact with him then. “M-maybe... after.... I-I’ll be full with something else too.”

oh. fuck.

Abuto is completely stopped in his tracks. Not his first time with you, honestly. But the shy confession that you’ve been trying to get him to stop work just so he can fuck a baby into you, make you all nice and soft and plump with his kid, is something— something else.

Abuto wasn’t lying when he said he can take care of it, of you, but it’s not you that’s been spoiled, it’s him who was slacking. Clearly, he was doing something wrong if you’re the one who has to come forward and ask him for something he already should’ve been doing in the first place.

You whimper in panic as his cock swells up further, pushing against your tight hole beyond what it’s usually put through. His grip on you tightens to almost-pain, and you feel a hot tongue lick at the sweat misting your temples. He starts moving again, shoving up deeper into sensitive flesh that your previous weaker attempts couldn’t reach.

Abuto apologizes. For the lost time. And for making you wait. He’ll make it up to you, with Brat #3.

#gintama #gintama headcanons #gintama imagine #abuto #abuto yato #abuto x reader #answered ask #not sfw

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wordsnwhiskey · 3 years

Text

Is It Living If You've Left Your Life Behind?

Pairing: Dave York & GN!Reader

Summary: Thanks to you, Dave escaped the showdown with McCall. You planned to take him to a safehouse on the other side of the country where he could recover and get started on living a new life. In order to do that though, he has to leave his wife, his daughters and his life behind. He can't help but wonder, is it really living if he has to leave his life behind?

Rating: T for Language I guess

A/N: This is my late submission for @autumnleaves1991-blog 's Writer Wednesday. I got into my feels tonight and Dave was calling to me. It's my first time writing for him and this is a different take on Dave than I'd normally go for. A softer/angstier Dave but honestly, given this situation where he survives? I don't see classic Dave shining through, at least not until something kicks his ass into gear. The man is injured and more than a little lost. Also, I'll probably edit this later, it's 03:30 and apparently I have a knack for posting things when I should be asleep.

Masterlist | AO3

There was nothing but the open road ahead of him as he sat in the passenger seat, a permanent grimace affixed to his face. His pain ebbed and flowed but at least that meant he was alive. Alive with nothing but the open road ahead of him and his entire life behind him.

Dave really only had you to thank for that. A life debt for a life debt even if it meant he no longer had his life, not really at least. His girls were well over a thousand miles behind him, everything he’d known and loved, he’d likely never see again. You were the only thing Mac hadn’t counted on and even though Dave had lost religion a long time ago, he thanked whatever god or higher power out there that you had kept your head about you during the showdown.

He had been furious at first that you hadn’t tried to kill McCall, only stalled long enough to get him and yourself out of there under the cover of the storm. His anger had quickly dissipated though, you had made the right call, of course. He still had trouble seeing out of his eye, a concussion from being blown off of his feet and plenty of bruises complemented the odd cut or two Mac had managed to land. Things would have been a lot worse had you not intervened.

You glanced over at Dave, hunched over, curling himself into the passenger window. Dave fucking York. He had really gotten himself in it this time but you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame him. In this industry, shit decisions had to be made all the time and Lady Luck was rarely ever kind. People died, that was the business. What else was the married father of two supposed to do when he was cut loose? Assimilate? That kind of thing wasn’t for people like you or Dave York, not really. McCall was too high up on his high horse to get enough oxygen to his brain and too blinded by his own grief to see it.

Then again, you were definitely biased.

“How’s your pain level?”

You asked, and were met with a withering glare, his newly-crooked, hawkish nose only served to further accentuate the harshness in his eyes.

He hadn’t talked much during the already several day trip. Not that you needed the conversation, but you understood better than anyone he knew who was still alive aside from the man you were fleeing from, what this felt like. You hated how people romanticized it, leaving everything behind and starting over. It never worked that way. Your family and friends lived and died and you couldn’t be part of any of it. And now Dave, Dave had two daughters and a wife but they might as well be poison now. Poison to his mind, torture to think about. Poison to the touch if he ever went to see them again, because surely McCall would be watching them from afar, waiting.

The same thoughts seemed to be on his mind, from the corner of your eye you could see him slump further into the window, clutching a small photograph he had pulled from his wallet. For all that he was, former agent, mercenary, murderer, assassin, he was still a family man, a soft man at heart and going into hiding away from this family had just as much likelihood of killing him as McCall did.

“I’m not going to see them again am I?” Dave murmured as he stared down at the photo, thumb grazing over his daughters’ faces.

You opened your mouth then closed it again, contemplating giving him platitudes or the truth. He chuckled at your reaction, a hollow sound devoid of any humor.

“Spare me the bullshit.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened and you let out a sigh.

“I don’t know Dave. If McCall winds up dead then yeah, that’s an option. I haven’t been back to see my family but I don’t have the same… things anchoring me somewhere or drawing me back.”

Silently, he turned to resume watching the passing orange and brown landscape fly by.

It had been about another two hours since he last spoke and he had been so still and quiet, you thought he might have fallen asleep.

“Why’d you do it? Why are you doing this?”

His voice is gruffer, made thicker from the knot of emotion in his throat. It startles you out of your own reverie.

“Do what?”

“Why did you bother saving me? You could have made it out of there and been in another country by now. Fuck, you could have dumped me at a hospital anywhere along this godforsaken road and still be in another country by now.”

You frowned, somehow you had hoped his relative silence meant you would be able to get through this journey without delving into any sort of feelings.

“It crossed my mind, on both counts.”

He raised an eyebrow, not so much in surprise that you had thought about it, more so that you hadn’t gone through with it.

“I didn’t have any part in Susan’s death so McCall would have stopped hunting me eventually.”

You spared him a glance, he was staring at you intently, analyzing.

“Is this the part where you tell me you love me?”

You scoffed and looked at him incredulously then shook your head.

“No, it’s even more pathetic than that, Dave. You’re probably the closest thing to a friend I have and we’ve tried to kill each other before.”

That got a small laugh out of him, because really, what was more ridiculous in their line of work than friends?

Probably having a family. Dave grimaced as the thought echoed in his mind.

“We were the best at what we did.”

He said, with an air of nostalgia and you nodded in agreement.

“And the worst, somehow even with us each taking on contracts for the other, here we are, still living.”

The small smile faded from your lips at his silence and lack of a response. Your gaze fell on him again as he shrugged his mouth and sighed.

“Are we? Is it living if I’m leaving my life behind?”

This was not the Dave York you knew. Occasionally, you had seen the wry humor, and suave exterior give way to the side of him that accepted “New Hamster” as an answer instead of “New Hampshire” but not even that remained. The Dave next to you had all of those layers peeled back. He was raw and unsure.

You didn’t answer him for a few minutes, honestly there wasn’t much of anything you could say that wasn’t a load of shit. You were both too practical for pep talks. Moreover, it wasn’t a question you had even stopped to ask yourself. The answer and the journey to that answer was a dangerous one.

“I- …. It’s the best option you’ve got right now, Dave. It’s a pretty fucked situation, my advice? Take it one hour a time and if you can manage that, take it one day at a time.”

“An hour?” Dave shook his head and rubbed his stubbled chin with his hand. “All I’ve seen for hours is dirt and sand. While Mac is probably watching Carol and the girls like a fucking hawk.”

You pursed your lips, and eyed the upcoming sign detailing the available lodging and food at the upcoming exit.

“Well you’ll have the inside of our next motel room to stare at in another hour.”

Dave slipped back into silence and you simultaneously welcomed and detested it. Things were simpler without him getting all philosophical on you and contemplating what made living actually living. It hardly mattered though because he had already gone and planted that damned seed inside your brain.

You pulled up to a not entirely shitty motel and paid for the night before going back for Dave who was waiting in the car. The room wasn’t terrible and after a thorough check, you could at least confirm there weren’t any critters who would be keeping you company. At least there were two beds.

After a dinner of pizza from the diner down the road you had taken Dave on a detour to the gas station to get a burner phone. In your haste to put as much distance as possible between you and McCall, you hadn’t bothered to get him one earlier. Once that was finished you both headed back to your room to unwind.

Dave sat in one of the rickety chairs at the small table that seemed to be actively trying to shed it’s veneer layer. With a sigh, he went to work stripping and reassembling his pistol. It was calming, relaxing for him. All of the pieces had a purpose, an order, to be pulled apart then reassembled, very much unlike his life right now. Nothing had purpose or order and everything had been pulled apart, leaving him broken shards to piece back together.

Hours passed and by the look of him, you figured Dave’s fingers might have gone numb from the repetitive movements and his eyes were drooping, well his good eye was drooping more than normal since the one McCall had nearly managed to gouge was still a little worse for wear.

“Dave, get some sleep. You’re no good to me or yourself if you’re half asleep.”

You know he’s been fighting sleep for a while now, he does every night just like he fights the pain you’re sure he’s feeling but refuses to take anything for. For the first time since you two set off, you’re not annoyed by it. He’ll sleep soundly at least once he let’s exhaustion take him. All the better for what you have planned.

It wasn’t until 01:00 that Dave was finally asleep soundly enough that you felt you could get up without waking him. Quietly, you made for the table, using the flimsy pad of paper and pen there to write a note before you walked out the door and shut it behind you. Thankfully, the city you had stopped in was populated enough that rideshare services were available and in less time than you had figured, you were on your way to the airport.

Dave woke up and immediately knew something was off. It was too quiet and there was too much sun trying to peek through the curtains for it to be the usual time you both headed out for the day. He sat up quickly and grabbed his pistol, then looked around the room for any signs of danger until his eyes fell upon the pad of paper on the table. A sharp pain arched through his skull when he stood up, a remnant of his concussion. He took the note in hand and began to read:

Dave,

I figure, if I’m lucky, I’ve got 4 hours on you. If I’m really lucky, I’ve got 6. Anything more than that and I’m disappointed in you, Dave.

He looked up from the note at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read 07:30. A wry grin threatens to take shape on his lips. You’d be disappointed.

I’m not going to make this some sort of sappy letter. I don’t have time for that shit. You were right. It isn’t really living if you’ve left your life behind. Out of the two of us, you’re the only one who really has one to miss. The only way you get to go back to Carol, Molly and Alice is if McCall is out of the picture, so I’m going to give it a shot. I left you enough cash to pay the room through the week and then some. If you don’t hear from me after a week, call the number at the bottom of this note and tell him you’re cashing in a favor for me. He’ll help you out. Might even know someone else who can help with your family. I left you the car, keys are on my bed.

Good Luck.

Dave’s throat went dry and then he saw at least four shades of red before he finally calmed down to assess the situation. Then all at once, it was like ice had been poured in his veins and things began to shift into focus.

What the fuck was he doing?

This entire time he had been wallowing, perhaps well earned, but he should have been planning. He had let his grief for the loss of Susan, the storm of emotions he felt seeing Mac still alive and a simple job that had spun drastically out of control, completely cloud his judgement. He was just as well trained as Mac, but he had let his anger and emotions get the best of him on that watchtower, he couldn’t let that happen again.

Dave moved quickly and methodically as he collected everything he needed from the room and headed out to the car. He really shouldn’t drive with his eye being what it was but he only needed to get to the airport and he could make it that far at least.

He couldn’t let Mac kill you, like Ari, Reznik, and Kovac. Family.

Like hell if he was going to let the closest person he had to a friend get killed.

If anyone was going to kill you, it’d be him, just for you trying to pull off something as stupid as this.

He knew this was the best move though, Mac wouldn't be expecting an attack this soon this time, the attack wouldn't be in the middle of gale force winds on Mac's home turf. You... and he would have the upper hand this time.

Dave got through the airport with relative ease thanks to him having TSA pre-check, no one bothered to ask him about his eye which he did his best to hide with a baseball cap.

He sat down and waited for his flight to be called. Mentally, he began going through the disassembly and reassembly of the rifle he had with him at the watchtower to help focus himself and pass the time.

The PA system broke his concentration and alerted him that it was time to board. Dave was tense when he finally got to his seat and sat down. His jaw was set in concentration as he started to come up with a new battleplan and weighing his options. Yes, he was injured but he'd been through worse on missions and come out on top.

At least one person was going to die by the end of the week and he'd be damned if you and him weren't the last ones standing.

Thanks for reading, tagging a few people interested/who might be interested:

@wheresarizona @pascalsimp @beesting77 @boxdyeblonde @lackofhonor @kaybrownies @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @elegantduckturtle @janebby @faithkeeper-81 @doin-stuff @danniburgh @pascalslittlebrat @mothandpidgeon @mouthymandalorianalso @phoenixhalliwell @kesskirata @starlightmornings @wyn-dixie

#Writer Wednesday #Dave York #Dave York x Reader #Dave York Pit #Dave York x you #my fics

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pepperpills · 3 years

Text

The Harvest - RE8 fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: hi guys, I'm changing a little my posting method. at first, I was afraid the chapters were too big and decided to divide them in parts and post a new part everyday (as long as there was a part to post), but it kind of affects the reading, so I will be uploading a new complete chapter every tuesday, hope it is better for you!

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2)

Part II – The Lord

The day after The Harvest, when you were designated to work for Lord Heisenberg, was a long one. Not really exhausting as you spent most part of it turning from one leg to the other waiting for someone to activate the bridge to the factory.

You were deadened by a miscellaneous of emotions battling to gain domain over your brain. You couldn’t stop thinking about waving your mother goodbye as the sun conquered the sky, shortly before being surrendered by the stormy clouds.

After the speech at the Chapel, you wanted to wander around a little bit, maybe hunt, thinking that it probably was your last walk on those landscapes, yet, you didn’t want to get late on your first day, so your feet lead the way past Heisenberg’s gate, close to the church. It wasn’t even lunch time when you reached the end of the road, facing the factory chimneys and the hell lot of metal discarded in its front yard.

You had completely no idea how to call someone or if you should, as far as you knew, the lord lived there alone and you didn’t think it would be a great first impression if you simply started yelling his name, so he could do that bridge thing.

Thus, you waited. Placing your bag on the ground, you stood there for what seemed to be two entire hours. Then you got tired and sat, your corselet holding your oxygen levels. After a while even being sat was annoying, your legs tingled and your stomach hurt, once you completely forgot to bring any food with you.

That would be a great time for the Duke to make an entrance. As one of his most loyal clients – maybe you sneak once in a while, claiming possessions of one or two crystals –, sometimes you two shared a meal and Gods, he was a good cook. But it wasn’t his week at the Village and that wasn’t his store’s place anyway.

When the day light began to fade and the clouds grew heavier, you started worrying about getting wet. To divert your mind from that thought, you left all your belongings at the end of the road, not too close to the border, so hopefully they wouldn’t fall in the water below, and explored the ruins, studying the bricks that build those structures, absolutely bored, not even anxious anymore. At that point you could think about a thing or two to say to that idiot Heisenberg.

What would happen if he didn’t open the gate? Could you just walk away and live your life? Well, that didn’t sound like a bad plan, if just you could reach the forest first… The first water drop popped in your hair, the rain it announced didn’t take long to join it and a few moments later you were soaking wet, cold to the bone, contracting every muscle.

Suddenly, as you were about to curse Heisenberg’s name, a gear sound rose, it sounded old, but well-oiled and was really loud, louder than the rain and thunders and made you and the crows jump, they flew, you stayed as there was nowhere to go. Approaching your dank belongings, you saw a firm, modular, sand-coloured bridge forming in front of your eyes. Its movement was smooth comparing to something that big. You were genuinely impressed and would like to ask a few questions about how that works.

This surreal vision absorbed you for a few minutes after it was done, you didn’t feel the rain chastening your skin anymore. To be honest, at that point you realized where you were at and what you had to do, after an entire day in standby.

Your own brain didn’t really wake you up from that hypnosis. Oh, no. What made your heart rate rise again was a sudden, strong and frisky voice coming out of nowhere. You looked around, moving your head way too quick, making a spray of water with your hair and saw no one, but his words were most certainly there, echoing in your mind, making your entire body feel warm.

“C’mon, honey pie, we ain’t got all day.” He said, demanding, and then laughed.

Great, a madman, you thought. You weren’t sure, though, if you blushed intensely due to what he just called you or because every cell of your body felt enraged with that joke, it was you who had been waiting for him, you who would be forever wet, because he left you in the rain. You wanted to walk to that factory and tell it straight to that son of a…

Shortly, you understood. It was a test. You took a deep breath, grabbed your stuff, which made a humid sound, and walked resiliently to the factory’s gate. He wanted to see if you were a spitfire and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“She walks.” He giggled, the voice of the wind, and then opened the gate.

Was he doing it with his mind? You knew that Lady Beneviento had some sort of effect on people’s brains, hallucinations they said, Lord Moreau could turn into a giant fish, Lady Dimitrescu had impressive long and strong nails that could tear anyone apart. What could Lord Heisenberg do, really? The villagers talked about he being one of the strongest lords, if not the strongest of them all. He had some power over metal, but you didn’t know exactly how it worked.

Anyway, you stepped in his front yard, facing the absurd, yet fascinating sea made of his discarded toys. For Gods’ sake, you even saw a war tank half buried in the dusty soil, you couldn’t even imagine how he had that and why he would so easily neglect it. There were ripped off motorcycles, destroyed cars, metal pieces with a huge variation of sizes and shapes and a ton of mechanical parts just lying there as a good old scrap heap.

Home, you thought sarcastically and smiled. So, when the last factory doors finally spread open to you, you faced the interior with a smile on your face even though you were miserable due to the storm. Carefully, you came inside just to be greeted by a puff of heat and sweet smoke, really welcoming at your state. The warmth certainly came from all the machinery working there somewhere, making a metal orchestra that never shut off. The smoke, well, it was coming from Heisenberg’s lite cigar.

He came from above, as a god like being, building stairs with metal parts right in the mid-air and climbed them down. You had never seem such thing and it was breath-taking; you were hypnotised for a moment there, silently dripping on the grimy ground, actually cleaning it a little.

He had some sort of waddle on his walk, nothing tawdry, though. Karl Heisenberg looked like an authoritative, impulsive and humorous man and he was, above all, having fun with you being there as if you were his new pup and you sure were.

“Oh, look who finally made it!” He greeted, on the ground, standing three steps away from you, the smoke so dense it made your eyes water, yet reassuringly hot with a tobacco scent.

Heisenberg took off his spectacles, just then you realized he was wearing them inside the factory. Besides that, he was dressed exactly the same as the day before, it didn’t seem he’d showered or so. Nonetheless, now you could see his eyes, his multi-coloured greyish blue abysms staring straight at you for sure this time.

All you felt able to do was stare back, almost not blinking, taken by those soft colours on a rough man like him. You thought you would be scared, although, you were honestly intrigued. You noticed another scar crossing his cheeks and nose and wondered how it ended up there, feeling all of a sudden tempted to reach it with your index finger, gently sensing the cicatrized skin.

“Good evening, sir.” You found yourself saying to be polite, breaking the motionless aura that sunk you in contemplation.

It was bizarre, but you weren’t cold anymore nor angry, you had the grip over your own posture again, your corselet helping you to keep your back straight. You were confident.

“Good evening, Y/N.” This you weren’t expecting, almost broke you. Why would he bother to memorise your name?

You remembered what Miranda said about being solicited by one of the lords, that made you shiver, exactly like the one you had before, only this time you could also smell the iron all over, not only taste it. The scent in the closed atmosphere of the factory had a light, almost undistinguished, aroma of the night, the fresh breeze and dry grass, maybe brought by you, however, most of it was rusted metal, motor oil and tobacco. It wasn’t unpleasant, just uncommon to what you were used to.

“Guess you found less transparent clothes.” He said next, circling you, studying you and your reactions.

You noticed he also smelled like the factory as if he was part of it, or it was, indeed, himself. You closed your eyes and the iron taste emphasized, it felt like you were licking a ring, you head spined.

“It is tradition to wear them at The Harvest.” You defended yourself – and your pure intentions.

You don’t know why, but you felt your cheeks burning, actually, parts of your body that would usually pass unnoticed had lite with the tension in the air and you just hoped you could be alone, devouring some food to calm your nerves.

“Horseshit!” Heisenberg raised his voice, coming through his pressed teeth. “They just make you wear those slutty clothes so my sisterAlcina can see all of her new pups’ assets.” Heisenberg mocked, laughing madly.

“Oh.” You couldn’t think of anything better to say, you never thought of that.

At that point, you were thinking about yourself, your dress and how you felt pretty wearing it. Did it count on the selection? You felt slightly ashamed, Heisenberg’s breathing was too close to your left ear, but you wouldn’t dare to move or your noses could collide.

“Surprised?” He questioned, maliciously. You didn’t answer immediately, you were too aware of how your boobs were trying to escape the corselet’s dictatorship. “I asked you…” He bellowed “are you surprised?” he finished in a lower tone.

“Y-yes.” You finally said. “Never thought of it.” You looked at the ground, discovering a puddle where you were standing.

“You sound like an outsider.” He ruminated, more to himself than to you.

“I kind of am.” You confessed, thinking about the cabins. “I am from the cabin people.”

“Hm… Interesting.” He glanced at you, head to toe, you couldn’t help feeling heated as you never felt before. “Sorry about the rain.” Heisenberg shrugged. “I am a busy man.” He justified, mischievously, remembering you of the anger you felt back at the bridge.

The lord left you alone for a second, walking past through a curtain. You followed him into a small improvised office area with photos all over a wall, it pictured the Village, the lords’ lots and Mother Miranda, a big poster of her right in the middle. It had a knife scratch on it. Maybe Heisenberg wasn’t a family’s man after all.

You were regaining your confidence as he was distracted with the pictures – or you thought he was, unable to really see what he was picturing –, you were seeking for a good ambiguous thing to say about waiting so long for that sort of reception, however, he was quicker and made you gasp, almost choke.

“Take ‘em off.” It was an order said firmly. The way he looked at you, as if he was some kind of authority, gave you the chills.

“Them?” You innocently asked, placing a hand on your belly, trying to breathe.

“Your wet clothes.” He explained, pointing to your entire body.

“All my clothes are wet.” You insisted, flushing heavily.

He took his very own overcoat off and handed it to you. You hesitantly accepted it, not knowing exactly what to do with his eyes on you.

“For fuck’s sake.” He turned away, chuckling.

You waited half a second to be sure he wasn’t secretly looking, you didn’t know if there were cameras in the room, so you started undressing. It wasn’t a very easy dress to take off, you couldn’t reach the laces on your back, because of that, you had to ask for his help.

“Can’t even take off your own clothes, kitten.” Heisenberg mocked, as his adept hands slowly, playfully, untied the laces.

His touch was warm, he slipped his hand and you felt his calloused fingers on your skin, your body hair immediately responded husking and an electrical current flowed through you, lightening your eyes, reverberating to your core. He also felt that and some other things that made him put away his hips, but once you were facing the entrance, you couldn’t see his reaction and only heard a small movement of boots.

Lastly your dress fell to your feet and you covered yourself with his bulky overcoat, feeling better as you inhaled his aroma so intensely you almost fainted with those mechanic flavours petting your skin and his body warmth heating you.

“Now, enough chit-chat. Your duties.” He broke the silence as you finished tying the fabric belt around your waist.

“Yes, sir.” This time it was him who took a deep breath, seeming a little bothered somehow like he could use some time alone.

He had been a lonely man. You didn’t hear other people, well, living people, in the factory the next days and realised it was only you and him. It must have felt weird having someone around after years of living like an eremite. Even with all the jokes and that cheap charms, the view of him tilted to the investigative board gave you the impression that it was a bit too much having you there all at once and decided to put your rain resentments aside ang give him a chance and some space.

“I need some cleaning. I am expanding some experiments and I need to use a new wing for it, but it’s really messy.” You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure he had a grin adorning his scarred lips.

“I will do it.” You said, a little disappointed that this was your choir and surprised you were expecting something more… Dangerous? Exciting maybe?

“Of course you will.” He was leaned on the office desk, not even looking at you anymore, suddenly sold out. “One more thing.”

“Yes? What is it, sir?” Heisenberg shook his head making his grizzly hair dance as if getting rid of a thought. It wasn’t clear if he was still having fun or being disturbed by something.

“There is only one bed in this factory.” You turned stone cold with that announcement, abruptly conscious of all the blood running through your veins.

A secluded part of your mind, a usually quiet one, whispered a thought: It would be good to see where his blood is running to.

“Unless you want to sleep in a stretcher.” He added, laughing vigorously, giving you the chills again.

“Oh no, I will take the bed.” The answer came easily as if it was always there.

You took your wet clothes and belongings after he told you how to access the bedroom and you left him alone to it, whatever it was.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

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katsucutie · 4 years

Text

i hate your guts (m)

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader genre: smut, humor warnings: smut, swearing (you know the good stuff) overview: class 1-a has this belief that you and katsuki hate each other, though one incident has their minds changed word count: 4.2k author’s note: this was written to fight my writer’s block and i happened to find a psycho-analysis of katsuki which helped somewhat and its quite interesting. anyways...the song choice while writing this was house of cards, also this was written in three days and i tried using any relevant medical terms i’ve learned so far in uni. hope you enjoy!! masterlist | ko-fi

Walking through the azure-rimmed gate you knew the day would be the same. Homeroom for ten minutes then classes back to back with a minor minute break in between, next an oh-so-needed fifty-minute lunch, and finally two classes to end the day. Not that you could complain, heroes in training must earn some type of education.

Though school wasn’t the worst thing invented, you can definitely say occasions in English class were not lackluster with Present Mic as the teacher. Or in math, when Midoriya yells out an inaccurate answer only to be corrected by Yaoyorozu. It's the little moments that bring laughter, or maybe it’s watching someone embarrass themselves in front of a class that's joyful.

And you could never forget the times where Jirou teased Kaminari for short-circuiting.

While all those moments are fun and dandy, 1-A can also be quite the chatterboxes and gossipy, especially when it comes to your feelings towards Bakugou. Believing that your relationship consists of mutual hatred, class 1-A constantly manages to tease both you and the blonde-headed male. Even All-Might manages to separate the two of you during training.

Although you never said anything against the rumors, it's quite humorous to see a school be so wrong in their thoughts. Is it not obvious that the glares the two of you send are not out of anger but endearment? Clearly not to Todoroki who claimed that Midoriya was All-Might’s secret love child, but that's beside the point. Additionally, you’ve yet to hear an accurate hypothesis as to why you and Bakugou would hate each other. Many of the theories revolve around Bakugou’s ‘anger problems’ but honestly, who doesn’t get mad?

Nonetheless, the rumors surrounding your alleged detestation toward the blonde sparked a little prank between you two. Pretending to hate each other until people catch on that you’re dating.

And the joke has been going on for quite a while, four months to be exact. Four months of pretending to hate in front of crowds, yet loving behind closed doors. Four months of experiencing the rush of adrenaline when you sneak around to his dorm room in the late hours of the night. Four months of leaving your friend groups to hang out during lunch.

Four months of waking up early to walk to class with Bakugou. And don’t forget about four months of the blonde-headed male constantly breaking you away from your thoughts.

“Oi Y/n, break out of that daze and let’s go, we have thirty-minutes before class and I’d like to spend that time not pretending to hate you” Bakugou calls while molding his fingers into yours.

“Oh please, I’m not pretending you know I hate your guts” You smile, leaning into the broad male walking towards homeroom. “Do you think today will be the same?”

“Yes, those idiots could watch us kiss and still think we hate each other, though I can’t complain, their oblivion is better than if they were to pester us about our relationship” he snarks.

Mindlessly nodding in agreement, you and Bakugou wander through the purple-stained floors of U.A., passing by random classrooms, and peering out the glass windows that overlook the campus.

After twenty-five minutes of strolling through the halls, Bakugou and you turn down the corridor leading to class 1-A, while unlocking hands and prepping for your fake and falsely-interpreted loathing glares.

“Today marks day ninety-six of the class believing we hate each other” you whisper.

“They’re hopeless….”

“But if at any point, you want to stop pretending let me know… I wouldn’t mind, jokes are funny but you’re my top priority”

“Is Bakugou Katsuki getting soft on me?”

“No.. shut up-”

“And they're back at it again Ladies and Gentlemen… the feud between Y/n and Bakugou seems everlasting” Kaminari calls sliding open the tall door leading to class 1-A. Way to ruin a cute moment.

“Honestly the two would probably be best friends if they didn’t hate each other, they both like the same things” Oh they wouldn’t believe the interests you two share.

“Yeah, but their personalities are so different, they’re just not meant to be and that’s fine” What a shock your relationship would be then.

“I’m so glad that you’re interested in my ‘relationship’ with Lord Explosion Murder… but I have more important matters to attend to such as earning my education so that I can be a top pro-hero” you remark sliding into your chair. Your comments are never intended to insult your boyfriend, but teasing his choice of a hero name couldn’t hurt anyone.

Waiting for the remaining two minutes for class to start, you check your phone and see a message notification from a familiar contact.

Babe 💗: storage room during lunch?

Quicker than your mind made a decision, your fingers don’t hesitate to press the send button.

You: i’ll bring the key

----------

Bakugou was a master of three things. Okay maybe more than three, but three traits excel. His talent, his mind, and his ability to use his fingers.

Bakugou’s talent is tremendous and has been able to advance his goals of becoming a pro-hero. He acknowledges that he was born with such an extraordinary quirk, and has a flair for using it. Notwithstanding the male’s breakdown and internal belief that he is inferior to his pre-quirkless childhood friend, Bakugou unceasingly exerts himself to be more than a student with talent.

His mind is magnificent and allowed Bakugou to comprehend multiple topics of interest. Placing third in the class’ midterm exam, it’s evident that he shines in academic settings. And though few peers in 1-A state that Bakugou fails in the social aspect, you claim the opposite. In their eyes Bakugou is brash, however, after spending time with the boy, you have viewed him as self-reflecting, with social skills that others cannot see.

While brains and talent may all be magnificent qualities of the blonde, nothing beats Bakugou’s ability to use his fingers. Combined with both his talent and his mind, Bakugou has the ability to make both inanimate and living things explode. And that isn’t related to his quirk.

“You’re imagining events that haven’t occurred yet. Am I truly that talented?”

Flushed and blinking in a shocked manner towards the male in front of you, you ask him if his quirk was mind-reading.

“Hmmm… No, but after seeing you so embarrassed I’d love to have such a quirk so that I’d be able to view the thoughts inside that mind of yours, but I was gifted with explosions... You, on the other hand, were blessed with the ability to swap items on your command. A quirk so useful, especially in times like these when I don’t have a key to the storage room”

“Oh please, just admit that you use me to gain entrance into forbidden rooms” You tease, giving Bakugou the janitor’s key to unlock the storage room.

The male chuckles unlocking the door to the storage closet, “Maybe a bit, though you reap the benefits of getting it” Change of thought, maybe he is brash.

Shutting the door behind you two, you finally express your raw emotions towards your boyfriend, engulfing him in a hug.

“I missed you”

“You came over my dorm last night” What an ass, couldn’t he just accept your affection?

“Yeah, but you go to sleep at like eight-thirty, which means I have to leave you dorm before then, and then I’m stuck in my dorm with nobody to talk to until I go to sleep at midnight, that’s about three and a half hours being alone”

“You’re so clingy… it's cute”

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel less lonely since I go to sleep at like eight-thirty and leave you alone’”

Bashfully looking down at the floor rather than your boyfriend, you mumble your request.

Releasing the hug, Bakugou smirks, poking fun at your diffidence, “With that ask, I don't think you can be shy… Are you sure that's what you truly want?”

Nodding your head you look up to the red-eyed male, taking in his dilated pupils. It's always been him that you’ve desired.

Accepting your form of consent, Bakugou kisses you, enveloping your figure while you sneak your hands around his neck to deepen the embrace. And although the two of you are in a storage closet skipping out on lunch, the feeling of epinephrine dispersing within your bloodstream, inducing fast heart rates, is blissful. A salacious rendezvous with the man you’ve come to love could never hurt anyone… as long as they didn't find out.

And if one were to catch you two, would they truly stop two aroused students halfway from committing adultery? Would a teacher not be embarrassed if he/she watched as Bakugou hurriedly zips down your green skirt in order to slide his fingers inside of your warmth? Or would someone scamper along hearing the lewd mewls arising from your throat?

“You’re so loud Princess, we have to keep it down or else someone will hear us, okay?”

Yet the person to blame for such noises was Bakugou himself. One could imagine the boy having rough, unmoisturized hands from his explosive quirk, but his inheritance of glycerin allows him to easily travel in and out of you.

“You’re close aren’t you? I can tell. Your walls are contracting at a faster rate and tightening each time I pump my fingers into you. It's really hot too, especially knowing that the world believes you hate my guts when behind the scenes, I rearrange yours”.

Words cannot describe the pleasure Bakugou exposes you to. A thumb pressed against your clitoris, his middle and ring finger dug past your labia, and you’re unraveling beneath him. He has you under his full control. And how Bakugou feels will determine your release. An untroubled Bakugou can earn you multiple chances of release, whereas the current Bakugou you’re experiencing will rip your attempt at euphoria, despite you being almost there.

“Katsuki please, I was right there… I’m so close you even said it yourself” You plead, wanting to reach a climax.

“I don’t know… strenuous activities make me tired and I wouldn’t want to upset you with the hour I may fall asleep” Bakugou smirks while tasting his digits, “You taste like caramelized sugar, I wonder where that came about?”

“Suki please, don’t leave me like this”

“It’ll only be for a little while babe, but lunch is almost over, we have to go back to class. I’ll help you out at my dorm alright?”

What more could you do but nod, put back on your skirt, and pretend to hate Bakugou once more in public?

----------

The walk back to class was internally embarrassing. Arousal saturated your underwear, heat filling up between your legs and left you with a foggy mind. You couldn’t imagine pretending to hate Bakugou now when all you could think about was Bakugou hovering above you in his dorm room, aggressively ramming into your hole as you pleaded for mercy. But you’re in school containing students who are not Bakugou to distract you from your misery.

“Y/n pay attention to me, and why do you smell like caramel?” Well shit, is the cat out of the bag?

Looking up at the voice calling, you smile faintly in means of apologizing and mutter an incoherent response to Mina’s question.

“Sorry, and thanks I guess... It might be from the sweets I had during lunch”

“I see, well since you like sugary foods we should go to the bakery today after school, I’m sure the others would like to come too” The pinky bounces brightly.

“I can’t today, sorry! I’m super behind on work and barely understand what's going on in class, let’s go this weekend when I’m free?” What a Lie.

Fortunately, the promise of a raincheck is enough for Mina to back off from the situation and accept your rejection. Today would have been a perfect day to go out with friends, yet the blonde-headed boyfriend of yours decided to be unfair, leaving you to crave his affection. Though, the school day would be over soon enough with only two periods following lunch. And only then would you be able to gain some type of relief.

As if that ideology would be so simple.

Bakugou Katsuki is a man full of pride --rightfully achieved, of course, meaning he knew how and when to push your buttons. Right now being one of those times.

Despite wanting to pay attention in your world language class, Bakugou made it very difficult to do so. Especially knowing that he is the cause of your phone silently vibrating every three minutes in your pocket. He doesn't want you to forget he is the cause of your erotic thoughts. Rather, he’ll keep reminding you that he is controlling your excitement.

However, from the glance across the room, Bakugou didn’t look like the lead in this relationship. His eyes were majorly dilated, with his red iris visually smaller in circumference. Additionally, a prominent cherry hue spread across his cheeks, that one may call flustered from afar. Although, only the two of you understood each other’s physical response towards seduction.

Babe 💗: you look dazed

Babe 💗 : I don’t think that’s the best for someone who wants to become a hero, don't you think?

Babe 💗: this class is so important

Babe 💗: …

Babe 💗 : don’t look at me

Babe 💗: i'm not the teacher

Babe 💗: your so cute trying to ignore these texts

Oh how badly you wanted school to be over

-------------

As the clock hit 2:45 PM, you watch everyone around you hurrying to leave the school and have freedom. And once five minutes go past, 1-A is a semi-empty classroom with two students remaining. Two hormonal, amorous, epinephrine-surged students patiently waiting for their peers to leave the school grounds, so that they can walk to the dorms together in peace.

Whilst hand-holding may be a shock to onlookers, if they had the capability to read your mind, myocardial infarction would sure to follow. Outstandingly too, if they did not foreshadow the events of you walking within the fourth floor of heights alliance and entering the second room from your left.

“Your room is so homey” You comment. Despite visiting the blonde’s dorm room on multiple occasions, the comforting aura never ceases to relax you.

“I would hope so, I don’t want to be reminded that we’ve been moved from our homes to our school campus in fear of malicious attacks against students”

“Thanks for that… truly an amazing choice of words” You sarcastically remark. Not everyone needs a reminder of the traumatic incidents students of U.A. have been through, especially when it's clear that students of 1-A (and others) have not received enough therapeutic aid to cope with the events suffered.

One would think that Bakugou of all students would be most affected by trauma, starting from falling victim to the Sludge Villain incident, to being kidnapped by the infamous League of Villains, though he shows the opposite effects. While you cannot see inside the mind of Bakugou and tell if he is extremely traumatized by the incidents and is repressing his memories as a form of coping, you can see what he is physically doing. And at this current moment, you cannot see someone disturbed by his past, but impassioned with the ideas of what is to come.

Tossing your backpack to a discarded corner of Bakugou’s dorm, you throw yourself onto his bed, relishing in the comfort of his bedsheets. You’ve always loved his bed, your favorite moments with him have occurred there. Random naps while cuddling on Saturday afternoon, binge-watching cult-classics after a big exam, or simply having Bakugou’s powerfully built arms wrapped around you like they are now is unforgettable.

“I don’t understand how you’re so built? We go to the same school, attend the same classes and both do athletic training. I mean I’m not complaining because you definitely look good, but it's interesting how my figure compares to yours”

“That's like me asking why you’re so attractive, it's just luck within life, plus I like your figure, it blends perfectly with mine”. A man with such words can only follow with actions that prove it, and the blonde was sure to do so.

Except for when his phone goes off multiple times.

“I think you should check your texts, it may be important”

Halfway sliding off of your body, Bakugou pulls his phone out of his pockets to read his text messages. “It's nothing important, Kirishima just wanted me to join him and the others to go to some bakery since you didn't want to go”

“Oh okay-” Again you were cut off by the sound of his phone going off, however this time, the alert was a long-lasting ring, signaling that Bakugou was receiving a call.

“He’s so persistent, why would I want to go to a bakery when the best dessert is in front of me”

Lightly throwing his phone on the floor of his dorm, Bakugou discards any form of human interaction outside of the bed, focusing his attention on the one he loves.

“You know I really fucking love and care for you?” You do. You fully understand his love for you, from the way his iris shrinks to the rosy pigments formulating on his cheeks when looking at you. And you’ve never once questioned his devoutness towards expressing his adoration for you.

In moments like these, where Bakugou gently strips clothing from your body admiring every crevice, you know the two of you are in love. The boy may come off as an entitled brat, but when push comes to shove, he will bend over backwards trying to make you feel happy.

“You’re so mushy when you're in the feels”

“Oh forgive me for wanting to praise my girlfriend”

“I’m joking, but it is nice to know the feeling is reciprocated”

His silence you took as acknowledgment. ‘I love you too’ was a phrase you didn’t say often, it sounds too forced. Being obligated to say a phrase in return is meaningless when both parties understand each other’s feelings. And it's even more worthless when the actions committed speak louder than words. Bakugou does not need to hear you say ‘I love you’ constantly when he knows you dragging the zipper down of his pants and springing free his cock from the restraints of his underwear means the same thing.

And when you free yourself from the fondling of your boyfriend to meet your lips with the tip of his enraged dick, Bakugou has fallen prey to submission. Having yet to insert the body part into your mouth, you take notice of the male in front of you. Cheeks flushes, head lolled back, visible veins peeking from his sand-colored skin, and light pants as a result of excitement. Hot.

One kiss to his head and you feel a little twitch. He wouldn’t last long. Understanding that thought you decide to mess with the male, putting half of his length within your mouth and pumping the other half. It was a shame he toyed with you earlier, now he’d face the repercussions. Light squelches filled the quiet air, and Bakugou’s groans got increasingly vocal overtime. The combination forming a sexual melody awaiting to be abruptly paused.

Releasing your lips from the now wet surface of the blonde’s dick, you hear the annoyed groan of the male. “Why’d you stop?”

“I’m sorry were you close?”

“Obviously, but that doesn’t answer my question”

“It’s just that strenuous activities make me tired Suki, and I wouldn’t to make you upset if I accidentally fell asleep”

Tch. The little sound of irritation fell from Bakugou’s mouth, only signaled one thing, rough sex.

“How I’ve come to date such a slutty brat is beyond me. Getting back at me isn’t going to help you in this situation. All you’ll receive is a punishment, though knowing you, you’ll probably enjoy it”

Although enticed by the proposition, you failed to speak out after being muffled by your boyfriend. Your own skirt which the male had managed to take off earlier now laid scrunched up in your mouth. In addition to that, your arms were now constricted by a gold-rimmed belt.

And while whining in complaint about the new restrictions placed on you, Bakugou alters your kneeling position into one laying beneath him. The primal glare he sends you would signal fear to others, however, you know that the fun is only about to begin.

Widening your legs apart Bakugou spares no time plunging two fingers into you, stretching the pair apart. Despite being unable to speak, your moans are heard loud enough by your boyfriend to increase his speed. Every sound encouraging the male to continue to berate your walls.

Thinking that the punishment you’ll receive is overstimulation by being one step away from ecstasy, you’re disturbed by the sudden absence of feeling in your core.

“I didn’t say you could come”

Twice today he’d done that. One denial was not enough for him, and that’s when you identified your mistake. Bakugou had the power to reject your advances to climax however many times he’d like. Maybe being a brat today wasn’t the best idea.

Granted that Bakugou could undeniably be the most ruthless person when it comes to sex, today marked the first time he’d ever advanced into you without warning. The thrusts he implemented assaulting your hole. Even so, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“My god Y/n, you’re so tight, so perfectly made to take my dick”

“You make it so easy for me to unravel within the warmth of your pussy”

“Fuck I’m so close baby, I’m sure you are too”

He wasn’t wrong. The magnitude of the thrusts presented plus the physical restraints and multiple orgasm denials has sped up your ability to reach a climax. You were a mess underneath the man, hoping that soon he would grant you the gift of release. And by the looks of it, Bakugou would provide you with it soon. His cock inconsistently twitching in your warmth, notifying both you and him that he would come soon.

So when the removal of your gag began, you were not surprised. He was close and needed the extra aid of your uncovered moans to aid him to let go. Bare lewd noises ricocheted from the walls of Bakugou’s dorm, and you became thankful that Kirishima went to a bakery rather than located next door. Though had he been, he would have been overhearing an occasion so pornographic, one would think you’re in the business.

They wouldn’t be fully wrong either. Whilst uploading an adult video while training to be pro-heroes sounds absurd, Bakugou has no problem taping to two of you in the act. It may be the idea of possibly getting the video leaked or a similar exhibitionist-like kink, but the blonde constantly acts to videotape during sex.

“This would be perfect on video. The noises you make before you come are so fucking hot I’d replay them until the end of time”

Yet Bakugou is gravely mistaken. Yes, the noises you exhale are angelic, but compared to the rugged groan he calls while releasing his load in you is divine, and never fails in making you follow suit. So when you recognize that tone in addition to the feeling of warmth coating the inside of your walls, you have no choice but to mirror his actions.

“You’re so perfect” He states, slipping himself from your cunt and delivering pecks to your lips while he unbuckles his belt from your wrists. Post-sex always has Bakugou sappy, but how could you complain.

Wrapping your freed arms around his neck, you pull the male closer to your embrace while nuzzling your nose into his neck. You felt the rapid pace of his heartbeat begin to slow down.

“Are you guys done, because I still haven’t received a response from Bakugou about if he wanted to go to the bakery or not?” What the fuck.

“Did you not press decline when answering Kirishima’s phone?”

“I thought I did…”

“Is that a no or?”

“Of course it's a fucking no, and don’t tell anyone else what you heard. Why were you even listen-” He hung up.

“You think we can go another day pretending to hate each other?”

“Nope… he definitely told the entire class”

“That's a shame, it was fun having them think I hate your guts”

“Awe how tragic… now get up so we can clean you off, heroes in training don't get UTIs”

How sweet.

----------

The trek to school the next day seemed no different than the past. You woke up early to walk to class with Bakugou and strolled the corridors. Only this time while sauntering into homeroom, nobody greeted the couple at the door, rather class 1-A smiled awkwardly as you held hands walking to your seats. Although you wouldn’t have known the reason for the tension in the classroom had Kaminari not jokingly mumble to Sero that he would’ve never expected the blonde to be an exhibitionist.

“Hm, if I recall correctly, I said not to tell anyone”

“I’m sorry my phone was on speaker when I called you” Great.

962 notes · View notes

imposterogers · 4 years

Text

✨ steve rogers edited ending ✨

- let’s start from the v beginning of endgame : he’s not suburban steve crying in a basement about a woman who died of old age, he’s a broken anxious and depressed nomad steve driving cross country on a motorcycle following leads that are always dead ends. he’s lost all hope, but he continues searching anyways

-a lead sends him to an old warehouse in San Francisco. he finds a van under scott lang’s name, but nothing else. another dead end. he slams the van door in frustration, knocking something loose that falls and hits a switch. voila. scott lang is released from the quantum realm

-steve goes back in time, but is weary. it’s hard for him to get his hopes up, to stay positive. he’s been pushed down so many times. he doesn’t know how much more he can stand. he’s in the 1930s, in a familiar neighborhood. it’s his neighborhood. he spots himself, barely ten, bleeding on the stoop of his apartment complex. Sarah rogers comes over, cups his face, and whispers gently to him, pulling him to his feet

-cue the flashback where steve remembers that exact conversation, where sarah told him that life was going to do it’s best to ruin him, but no matter what, he always stands up

-he returns the stones, but brings antman w him (scott could return the stones non evasively bc he could be super small, is good at heists, and it would be good to have backup) he returns. he returns.

-sam wakes up one morning and sees the shield in his kitchen, with a LONG handwritten note attached. we’re talking thesis paper long. he reads it, and it essentially says that ‘captain america’ is his if he wants it, that he’s the only choice for it, and how important he is to steve. sam puts it down, and heard a knock at his door. it’s steve. he goes, “wanna get breakfast?” (the note is an important detail to me bc I honestly don’t believe steve would be able to say everything he needs to say to sam. while steve isn’t emotionally stunted — if anything he’s tooooo in tune with his emotions — our boy is an awkward shit. that motherfucker can give an awe inspiring speech at the drop of a coin but as soon as it’s personal he’s just like *shrug* *long stare* *attempt at humor to mask his feelings*)

-they get breakfast. they don’t talk about it. finally, sam goes, “we gonna talk about it?” steve replies, “I’ve arranged for a public announcement followed by a passing of the shield in three months. if you want the job, that is.” sam goes, “what if I’m not ready?” steve: “you will be”

-they spend the next three months training and working out the details tirelessly. the angles to throw the shield. designing a wing pack that will support the weight of the shield. a costume. public relations. government contracts (or lack of). everything.

-after the ceremony, and after sam’s settled in, steve goes on a road trip. he needed a break. time away from everything. after years and years of constant fighting, constantly weighed down by the title of captain america, he needs a break. bucky goes with him. the farthest they’ve ever been on a trip together for fun is Coney Island. they go with no map, no direction, but they end up at the grand canyon, and sit alone on the edge in comfortable silence. bucky says, “I got a job offer” instead of asking if he’ll take it, steve asks “when do you start?”

-bucky joins sam’s team, as do other up and coming heroes. for once steve doesn’t feel obligated to anything. the worlds in good hands. if they need him, he’ll be there, but until then he’ll focus on different fights. hell battle his mental health. he’ll tackle social injustice. he carry groceries for the elderly, and help rebuild neighborhoods affected by the snap. he’ll draw and paint and be happy, and finally learn to be steve again

#steve rogers #captain america

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stxphxn-strange · 3 years

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i found the one, he changed my life (what now?) [i’d love it if we made it, pt. 3]

a/n: holy SHIT i am so happy about the way this turned out, this continues the story of college AU!tony dealing with his ex and the pressure he puts on himself to be honest with his friends. (title from “what now” by rihanna) TW: discussion of abusive relationships, mention of surgery, unhealthy/stalking behaviors, and i think that’s it but pls lmk if there’s anything else i should tag

summary: “He’s obsessed with you [...] I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky elaborated, leaving Anthony at a loss for words.

“It’s a nice day, seasonal allergies aside,” Anthony remarked.

“I would put flowers in your hair and be all cute and shit but I’m trying not to make you sneeze,” Stephen replied. “That would be unfortunate.”

Anthony laughed lightly and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. “You can still pet my head though, that would be nice.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re terrible at subtlety?” Stephen asked, beginning to play with Anthony’s hair.

“I think you did this morning,” Anthony replied. “Because you’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that why you love me?” Stephen teased, batting his eyelashes.

“It’s one of many reasons,” Anthony said, a soft smile on his face. “It is really nice out though.”

“Listen I know I’m always on time, but can we make an exception today?” Christine sat across from the couple, her auburn hair made extra bright by the sunlight as she pulled it out of her face. “Sorry I’m late.”

“The way that you’re literally not sorry at all makes that apology for me,” Stephen said. “Don’t worry about it though, we’ve just been hanging out. Where’s Hope?”

“Inside, for some reason,” Christine replied with a shrug.

“Probably because it’s allergy season,” Anthony commented, rolling his eyes as he sneezed again.

“He complains, despite begging me to sit outside with him,” Stephen added.

“That doesn’t sound like me, but go off I guess,” Anthony replied, picking up his phone. “Hey Rhodey, what’s up?”

“Are you running errands by chance?” Rhodey asked.

“Nope, I’m sitting outside with Steph and Christine,” Anthony said. “Why, do you need something?”

“I was just going to ask if I could send you a short list of things I wanted. Not a big deal but I’m out of cereal,” Rhodey replied.

“Text it to me anyway, I don’t think I’m going out but if I do I’ll get whatever you want,” Anthony said with a shrug.

“You’re the best Tones. By the way are you feeling better?” Rhodey asked.

“A little bit. It’s nice just sitting outside,” Anthony replied. “I dunno. I’m not thinking about it.”

“Fair enough. Enjoy the fresh air, don’t worry about the cereal though! See you later.”

“Bye Rhodey, everyone say bye!”

Christine and Stephen shouted their goodbyes as Anthony ended the call.

“You good?” Christine asked kindly.

“Yeah, sorta.” Anthony shrugged again. “I just didn’t sleep a lot last night, so that wasn’t fun. I’ve been stressed out about… things. Turns out it actually is weird to have one of your friends dating your ex.”

Christine hummed. “Tea. I thought there was something bothering you, like more than just the awkwardness. I can read you well enough by now. So what’s wrong?”

“Honestly I don’t want to tell you this exact minute because I feel like the only person who should hear this privately is Bucky. I’ll have to see how I feel after I talk with him, and if I’m okay then I’ll probably tell everyone in the group all at once. I just don’t want to repeat the same story over and over again, that’s going to wear me down,” Anthony replied. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh my god dude that’s fine! No stress,” Christine rushed to assure him. “You just seem sad and I want to help but I also don’t want you to make yourself feel worse, that’s not fair to you.”

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Christine.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Christine said.

Anthony sneezed again, not seeing the need to reply beyond that. There was just nothing else to say.

“Let’s go inside,” Stephen suggested. “It’s getting kinda gross out anyway.”

“Oh sorry, that’s because I’m out here. I’ll leave.” Anthony jokingly moved to stand up, laughing raucously when Stephen pulled him into a hug before he even stood.

“Nooo, you’re good! You stay,” Stephen replied. “The sun is out because you’re here.”

Anthony blushed and buried his head against Stephen’s collarbone. “Oh hush.”

Christine stood up. “I may as well go inside while you two idiots keep flirting, now my allergies are acting up.”

“You’re not allergic to pollen,” Stephen remarked, standing up and offering Anthony his hand.

“I’m not allergic to most things, but I’m allergic to your bullshit,” Christine quipped. “I feel like I tell you that at least once a week.”

Anthony laughed and stood up, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Stephen’s waist.

“In all seriousness, you’re cute together,” Christine continued.

“Oh we know,” Anthony said. “How was your day Christine?”

The trio headed inside as Christine thought about how to answer.

“Honestly I don’t think anything even happened today.” she finally said. “Hope and I had breakfast together and I quite literally ran into Carol in the library. It was nice to catch up with her though because I feel like I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Now that I think about it, I also feel like I haven’t seen Carol in a long time,” Stephen said.

“We didn’t talk for too long since we were in the library, but she seems good,” Christine replied. “I think she and Val are still unpacking so they’ve been focused on that, y’know?”

“Makes sense. Props to them for moving in the middle of the year, that’s too much for me. That’s why I’m making everyone wait until the summer,” Anthony said.

“You’re not making anyone wait, you’re just making sense,” Stephen corrected him. “Moving is stressful enough, I don’t want to deal with it during exam season and neither does anyone else.”

“Can I plan your housewarming party?” Christine asked, opening the apartment door.

“Who said anything about a housewarming party?” Anthony replied.

“Wong said I could throw one once you’re all moved in,” Christine explained. “We don’t have a contract in writing yet, but that’s because—”

“Because I never said you could throw us a party!” Wong shouted from the living room. He was sitting in his usual armchair by the window, half paying attention to whatever show Bucky and an all too familiar blond were watching. “Also Bucky is here again, and he brought a friend.”

“Boyfriend,” Bucky chimed in. “We’re going to dinner soon, I just left my jacket here the other day and then I decided I’d introduce Steve to you guys. So yeah, this is my boyfriend Steve. Steve, this is Christine, Stephen, and I think you know Tony. I heard there’s a history there or something.”

Bucky was trying his best to prematurely make the best of an awkward situation, but Steve was the only one who found any humor in what he said.

The offending blond laughed and nodded, his expression unreadable in a way that made Anthony freeze. He was looking with condescension at their entwined hands, like he didn’t approve of Stephen and Anthony finally being together. With an arrogant sniff, he got off his high horse long enough to respond. “I know him and Stephen, actually. You both look good.”

“Thanks,” Stephen replied, his teeth bared in a forced, blatantly hostile grin.

Anthony rubbed at his eyes, tearing up from the situation and his allergies. “Yeah good to see you too, if you’ll excuse me I need to take some allergy medication.” He couldn’t run and hide in the bathroom fast enough, and he knew everyone in the room could see him trembling.

Stephen let his genuine emotion break through his façade for a moment, frowning as he watched Anthony retreat. His steely look of disapproval returned a minute later as he sat down in the kitchen, eavesdropping on the group’s conversation.

“Mind if I get some water? I didn’t get to hydrate as much today,” Steve asked.

Stephen, pretending to be busy, glared at his phone like he was reading a poorly worded email. He paid little attention to the blond as he bumbled around the kitchen, following Wong’s directions on where to find cups and the Brita and other shit.

“So you’ve finally come back to the city, hm? Tony used to tell me about how you both grew up here and how New York never left you,” Steve asked Stephen. He was making an extremely poor attempt to sound friendly, but all he did was make the med student extremely uncomfortable.

Stephen gave a forced laugh. “Yeah, they couldn’t keep me away.”

“Seems like you couldn’t keep yourself away from Tony either, not with the amount of times he cheated on me with you,” Steve remarked.

“Listen, we both know that’s not true and I barely want to give you the time of day. You know damn well he never cheated on you and I don’t have to justify myself to you. After all, you were the cheater. If you think I’m just going to roll over in my own apartment and let you run your mouth like that, especially knowing how badly you treated my Anthony, then you’ve got another thing coming,” Stephen snapped. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Clearly anyone who thinks I’m aggressive and controlling hasn’t met you,” Steve said, closing the fridge and leaving Stephen fuming in the kitchen.

After 15 minutes of ignoring some small talk, Stephen had had enough. Anthony was still hiding somewhere and Stephen was just over Steve being in his apartment. He was trying not to be too angry, because Bucky didn’t know about how Steve and Anthony’s breakup or relationship went. Stephen couldn’t, and didn’t, blame him.

But Steve was a coward and a jerk, and Stephen wouldn’t touch him with an 11 foot pole. Stephen wouldn’t even get close to him to shove him headfirst out the door, actually.

“I’m gonna be in my room studying if you guys need anything, enjoy your dinner Bucky!” He said, waving at his friends in the living room and pointedly ignoring Steve.

“Thanks man! If you want to hang out later, maybe on a double date or something—”

“Oh I’d love that!” Steve chimed in, unprovoked and uninvited.

“Depends on what Ant’s doing, I know I’m pretty busy tonight but if he wants to go out then we’ll let you know,” Stephen said firmly. He heard the bathroom door open behind him and Anthony’s light footsteps in the hall.

“I think I’ll just run to the bathroom before we leave, if that’s alright?” Steve asked.

“Are you asking me?” Stephen replied, ignoring him and heading in the direction of his bedroom. “Don’t you dare patronize me.”

Anthony was standing nervously outside Stephen’s room, staring at the floor. He looked horrified and meek, pressing his back against the wall and hoping he’d disappear out of Steve’s gaze.

But of course he wasn’t that lucky. Sometimes it felt like he’d never truly get away from the way Steve used to look at him and was apparently still looking at him.

Anthony looked up as Stephen gently tapped his shoulder. “Hey… you alright?”

He forced himself to nod, tears still pooling in his eyes from either anxiety or allergies. Maybe both. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—”

“Oh there you are Tony! Bucky and I are leaving, so I thought I’d say goodbye,” Steve said, lingering in the doorway to the bathroom. “Maybe we could go for a double date later? If you’re allowed to, that is. I always said Strange was a controlling downgrade, didn’t I?”

“Good thing I never listened when you said that, because I’m much happier now,” Anthony muttered.

“Aww, don’t be a bad sport! It’ll be just like the glory days.” Steve appeared to be ignoring his current relationship to flirt with Anthony, stepping out of the doorway and leaning closer (read: too close for comfort) to him.

“I don’t know about that,” Anthony said, his voice taut. “I wouldn’t want to be around you for much longer. Seeing you is already making me think about our… could you call it a relationship?”

“You’re so funny Tony, just as funny as I remember.” Steve sounded like a content house cat as he quite literally purred at Tony. “I miss that humor. I just miss you.”

“I can’t say the feeling is mutual.”

++++

“Not to state the obvious, but I hate that guy,” Stephen muttered, storming into the kitchen a few hours later.

“Is Ant okay?” Wong hadn’t moved from his seat in the living room, except for the fact that he was laying across the armchair sideways and there were three more mystery novels next to him.

“He’s sleeping. Even before all of that shit went down,” Stephen began, gesturing to the air in front of him, “We were outside for long enough that even if he won’t admit it, his allergies are bothering him.”

“How long were you outside for before I came to sit with you guys?” Christine asked.

“Maybe 90 minutes? Long enough to be considered too long,” Stephen replied. “It doesn’t matter. Did you guys eat yet?”

“No, we were waiting on you and Pepper. She said she’d be back by 7,” Christine said.

“What do you want? I’m open to suggestions,” Stephen asked. “I kinda want to make pasta but I know I’m not good enough at it so it wouldn’t make Anthony happy.”

“Don’t be stupid, Stephen. It absolutely would, and you know that,” Christine scolded him. “Do whatever you feel like! And I think pasta sounds nice.”

Stephen nodded. “Fair enough. I’m making ravioli and none of you can stop me. We deserve it.”

“Oh no Stephen don’t do that, don’t make something that you like to cook and that we all like to eat,” Wong teased. “Christine, he’s too powerful, we have to stop him.”

Stephen humorously rolled his eyes. “Anthony is the one who gave me a good recipe, so technically we all have him to thank for enabling me. Except not right now. Let him sleep.”

++++

“Oh by the way, I told Bucky that I’d get coffee with him later and we’re going to talk about whatever the hell happened this weekend,” Anthony said. “Do you want me to bring you back anything while I’m out?”

“Hmm… I don’t think so.” Stephen drew a heart on the back of Anthony’s hand with his thumb, something he noticed himself doing a lot.

Anthony always rewarded him for the gesture with the smallest, shyest smile that Stephen thought was the most adorable thing ever. “Text me if you change your mind, yeah?”

“Okay, I will.” Stephen smiled back at him, lovingly brushing Anthony’s hair out of his face. “Also if I send you a list will you help me decide on a movie for tonight?”

“Not sure you’re asking the right person, but sure,” Anthony replied.

“That’s subjective. I think I’m asking the right person,” Stephen said. “You’ve never steered me wrong before.”

“I hope I never do.” Anthony pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Stephen’s lips. “But knowing you, you’ll definitely change your mind about wanting a tea or something.”

“If I do, I’ll tell you,” Stephen replied, smiling into the kiss. “Promise. Have a good day, and good luck later.”

“I think I’m going to need it,” Anthony said with a little nervous laugh.

“Would a kiss help your luck?” Stephen couldn’t keep a neutral face. “I never imagined myself saying that. Or getting to kiss you.”

“Stop it, don’t make me blush this early in the day,” Anthony replied. “In all seriousness, I love you. And your kisses are magical, who’s to say they aren’t lucky?”

++++

Anthony couldn’t say whether or not he felt lucky later that day, because the only thing he felt was nervous. Bucky looked just as nervous and sheepish as Anthony did, and his internal monologue had already switched to guilt. They exchanged small talk and pleasantries while they waited for their coffee, their mutual discomfort becoming more and more tangible by the minute.

Most people joked that Anthony talked to hear the sound of his own voice, but today he was so nervous he couldn’t hear himself think. He didn’t know what to say or even where to start. Thankfully, Bucky blurted out a question before Anthony thought about how to start the conversation.

“How long were you two together?”

“Two and a half years, give or take. And I didn’t cheat on him with Stephen.”

“I didn’t think so. I wasn’t even going to ask about that.” Bucky smiled, trying to somehow calm Anthony down with his expression. “Who broke it off?”

“Me. Sometimes I feel like I did it a lot later than I should have, honestly.” Anthony shrugged. “I wasn’t ever happy in that relationship. I wanted to be, and I did everything I could to make it work even at my own expense, but eventually I had to end it. I’m happier now, but sometimes I still… I shouldn’t say any of this to you, not if you’re happy.”

“You know what bothers me, though?”

Anthony wasn’t expecting that. “What’s up?”

“I don’t think he’s over you. And that doesn’t bother me in a jealous sense, I’m not like that, but I feel almost used. Especially after this weekend,” Bucky said.

“What do you mean?” That worried Anthony for a lot of reasons, and he couldn’t decide which one was the most important.

“Tony, he's obsessed with you. The entire time we were driving Sunday night he wouldn’t stop talking about you, to the point where it was weird. I started to feel like he used me to see you,” Bucky replied. “One time I showed him a group picture, this was like six months ago, from that time we went out ice skating and ever since then he’s been pestering me about you. I don’t even think it has anything to do with me, if that makes sense.”

“I’m not following,” Anthony admitted. “Not entirely, anyway.”

“I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky said. “Now as I said it’s not jealousy, I just think it’s a bit disturbing that he’s so hung up on you.”

Anthony nodded slowly. “Yeah, I don’t like that. He didn’t want me to dump him but I had to, there’s no two ways about it. What happened Sunday?”

“We had a disagreement. I told him I felt used and he wasn’t happy about that, but he didn’t deny it either,” Bucky replied. “I was hoping he’d drop the whole thing but I don’t think he’s going to. I don’t think he’s going to ever get over you, honestly.”

“Damn. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that.” Anthony nervously ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to pull at it. “Um… yeah I don’t really know what to think or what to say.”

“Neither do I,” Bucky admitted. “I really want to try things out with him and see how they continue, but I also don’t think he’s going to change. Now that he’s actually seen you, I feel like it’s only going to be more awkward.”

“Oh about that, I’m sorry I didn’t want to go out the other day,” Anthony said. “I was going to try and make myself power through it, but… just being around him for however long you guys were in the apartment was way too much. I got really anxious and just hid in Stephen’s room. And then, on an unrelated note, I ended up sleeping for 14 hours or something.”

“I’m sorry if I was forceful. I didn’t know how to subtly ask if he was making you uncomfortable in the moment, but I could see it,” Bucky replied. “I don’t blame you.”

Anthony shrugged. “Dude I’m at a loss, generally speaking. I don’t know what to say about everything you just told me, but honestly I’m feeling a little sick.”

“Are you going to see Stephen? I’m meeting Christine, so if you want I’ll walk with you,” Bucky offered.

Anthony nodded. “Sure.”

“I really am sorry, Tony. For everything this weekend, and if something I said upset you after your wisdom tooth surgery,” Bucky said.

“It’s not your fault. I’ve been stressing about how to tell everyone about that relationship for too long and the way I felt when I woke up just reminded me of something I still don’t really want to talk about,” Anthony replied. “There’s a lot I’m holding back, even from you, but I’m just not ready to go into all of that yet.”

“I won’t be upset if you tell me,” Bucky tried to comfort him.

“It’s less about that and more the fact that I don’t want to even think about it. I don’t want to think about him,” Anthony said. “I don’t want to hear his voice, or see him, or even hear about him, if I’m being honest. And I feel bad, because I know you love him, but—”

“But you’re my friend, and I care about you. Plus you’re way too polite to be direct when something or someone upsets you and I think that does more harm than good. You just end up keeping everything to yourself, and you don’t have to,” Bucky interrupted. “You don’t have to be a closed book all the time.”

Anthony smiled at that. “Stephen’s said that to me before. I don’t know why, but I like that phrasing. I’m not one to open up in general, even though I trust everyone in our friend group, but this feels like it’s too much to get into the open right now. Someday I’ll be ready, but not today. It doesn’t help that this weekend was honestly too soon.”

“That’s fair man,” Bucky replied. “I don’t have to tell you that Stephen loves the shit out of you, and you deserve that.”

“I could go on and on about Steph probably endlessly,” Anthony said, hiding his face as he blushed.

“Everyone knows that, even people who have never met either of you know that!” Bucky teased. “But honestly, are you okay?”

Anthony shrugged. “Yes and no. I just need time.”

“I understand. And I am really, really sorry about this weekend,” Bucky replied. “Forgive me?”

Anthony shook his head. “Do I need to? It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not, but still… I’m sorry. I hope that means something, at least.”

tags: @stark-strange-love2 @taruyison @chocopiggy @majesticnerdynerd @spooky-n-spunky @merlynthedisasterchild @kitkatfat15 @maya-custodios-dionach @katninjagirl97

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #my ironstrange college au #protective stephen strange #james rhodey rhodes #wong #protective Bucky #james bucky barnes #christine palmer #implied christine/hope #implied valcarol #not steve rogers friendly #implied anti stony #implied anti stucky #ok off to dream about part 4

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

Text

Look at the mesmerizing artwork by @teamhook. Can you spot the villain of this little story?

In the Offing

Chapter 18 — The Stable Boy

Summary: In which our heroine misplaces something

Chapter 18 on AO3

“A guilty conscience means at least you’ve got one

Who will forgive you when I’m gone?”

-Here He Comes, The Wallflowers

“That went further than I intended,” Killian whispered against her throat. She could feel his smile against the sensitive skin and knew that while his words sounded like the beginning of an apology, it was really more of an observation on their current status. Their completely unclothed, totally sated status.

“Hmm, there is something about the motion of the water,” Emma said by way of agreement. She was lazily running her fingers through his mussed hair, appreciating the way the thick, short locks felt silky in her hands. His laughter rumbled through his chest and she gave in to the temptation to run her fingers through the hair there as well.

“I’ll make a pirate out of you yet, Swan.”

“Well, I need to do something special for a man who would trade a secluded afternoon with the most famous actress in the world to spend time with his unknown, magnet-for-trouble house guest.”

She should get up. Lord only knew if there were locks on the door or if they could be interrupted. However, she wasn’t lying about the sensation of being lulled to sleep by the waves. Although sleep was the furthest thing from her mind a few minutes ago.

“House guest? Is that the label we’re going with? How about girlfriend? Lover? Angel? Magnificent creature?” He punctuated each question with a nuzzle against a different section of exposed flesh. “Besides, I am a seafaring man and all sailors know that it’s bad luck to have a redhead on board. Thank goodness I didn’t have to take her out on the open seas. You may never have seen me again.”

“That would have been a shame. I do enjoy seeing you. The more of you, the better.” She allowed her hands to wander over the expanse of skin on display, thankful that the afternoon was warm since there was only one sheet and their picnic blanket from the other day to cover up with. Her eyes had drifted closed during their idle exchange but she cracked open her left to look at him as she felt the bed shift under his movements. He had propped himself up on his elbow and was resting on his side. She was surprised to see his expression had turned serious. “What’s on your mind?”

“I think it’s time we talk. I like the odds of you staying put since you’re naked,” he added with some of his usual swagger.

“If you’re ready,” she told him. Reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, she knew that nothing he said would make any difference to her. She was too far gone already. The only possible outcome was she would fall deeper under his spell. “No matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know what those words mean to me, love.” He pressed a forceful kiss to her lips and returned to his earlier position. His eyes focused out the window and glazed over as he became lost in his memories. When he spoke, his voice had deepened with emotion. “Liam and I moved here a decade ago with one purpose and one purpose only: To find Frederick’s bloody treasure trove. There was nothing for us in England, hadn’t been in years really. I was graduating and Liam was finishing up his enlistment with the Navy. To my surprise, he didn’t doubt for a moment my claims that I could find our fortune on the rocky beaches of Maine. So off we went without a backward glance at the shores of our ancestors.”

She could imagine a younger Killian, full of life and confidence, pulling along his older, more seasoned brother. After all, no one was more jaded than her and she was already prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth.

“It took us more time to find the pub in Storybrooke than it did to find the first treasure hoard. Oh, Emma, I wish you could have been there.” His grin was something that belonged on a schoolboy’s face, not a man in his mid-thirties. Unable to help herself, she reached up and traced it with her fingertips. He captured her wayward digits and pressed a heartfelt kiss to the tips. “Most pirate treasure was in the form of goods like timber, cotton, sugar, or tobacco. But good old Frederick didn’t disappoint. There was enough silver to make us wealthy even by today’s standards. There were some interesting historical bits as well that will one day find their way into a museum but I won’t bore you with those details.”

“Such a gentleman,” she murmured with a chuckle. “What did you do with it? Aren’t you supposed to alert the authorities when you find stuff like that?”

“I want to be a better man for you, Swan, but I will never be a saint. We haven’t disclosed any of our findings. We simply dip in when we need something extra. Some day we’ll let it see the light of day but for now it rests in Davy Jones’ locker.”

“Wait, I know that one. You mean it’s hidden under the sea?”

“No, we put it in my grandfather’s old locker and buried it under the cottage. It’s the only thing my father left behind when he abandoned us all those years ago.” When she rolled her eyes at him, he simply chuckled. “But to answer your question, the laws vary by state and country. Maine is actually quite lenient with their buried treasure as long as it isn’t found on state property. Luckily, two of the piles we found were on my land at the cottage. Technically, I didn’t own the land when I found the first one but it was under contract. I quickly remedied that and it was all above board when I found the second stash a few days later. That one had more coins and a few loose gemstones.”

“Gemstones?” Visions of The Goonies filled Emma’s mind and she had to stop herself from asking about One-Eyed Willy. Because, as fantastical as it seemed, the man who held her heart in his hands also had a knack for finding buried treasure. A gift she hoped he would survive considering someone out there desperately wanted to get their hands on it.

“Yes, darling,” he answered. “I think several have your name on them.”

“No way,” she argued. “I don’t want any of it. What if it’s cursed?”

“Cursed, you say?” He looked thoughtful as the sunlight was momentarily blocked by an errant storm cloud outside. “Yes, I suppose that may be true. Shortly after I uncovered the third pile, I went to the Rabbit Hole to celebrate my victory. Liam had just met Elsa so I was on my own for the most part those days. Not that it mattered, you know how this town takes to new people so I never lacked companionship for a drink or...whatever.”

“Whatever, indeed,” Emma teased in her best impression of his accent. She sensed he was coming to the part of his story that was the most difficult to relay and tried to infuse some humor into the conversation.

With a rueful grin that acknowledged her effort, both with the accent and the humor, he continued. “I met Milah that night. She was a sight to behold in the dim light of the bar, vibrant in a way that seemed too much for this little town.” He narrowed his eyes as they made contact with hers. “I didn’t know at first that she was married. Lads of twenty-four aren’t known for pumping the brakes when a beautiful woman gives them nothing but green lights and I was no different. Honestly, I was probably worse. I was a rash young man far from home and high on my own cleverness. It never occurred to me to question my good fortune or wonder why no one else was vying for her attention.”

“How far gone were you when you found out the truth?”

“Completely,” he confessed with a shaky breath. “The fight we had when I found out, well, it would have melted paint off the walls. I was a dirty little secret, the younger man who captured her attention but not her affections. It was always like that with her. She was so restless. Always moving, always searching. Nothing was ever enough. It took me a long time to realize that I wasn’t enough either. She wanted someone to rescue her from a life of boredom, someone who would carry her away and show her the world and fill her days with adventures. I couldn’t be that for her but I nearly destroyed myself trying to be.”

He was lost in the past, his eyes distant and filled with pain. Reliving the end of the most meaningful relationship of your life wasn’t easy, Emma definitely understood that. Especially when you gave all you had to it and it still collapsed in pieces around you.

“Her husband came to visit me one night toward the end. Offered me money to break it off,” he scoffed as if the idea still insulted him. “I refused of course, convinced he was the villain in our little drama and that I would win the heart of the fair maiden in the end. At it turned out, I was wrong on both counts. The villain was the fair maiden. Mr. Gold and I were both pawns in her scheme to escape a life she hated. When she had the opportunity, she took the money and ran. In my kinder moments, I feel sorry for her knowing she must have felt trapped. But then I remember the way the whole town thought I killed her and any kindness I’m able to scare up disappears. Just like she did.”

“You’ve never heard from her? You have no idea what happened to her?”

“No. When it ended, it ended badly. She wanted me to take her husband’s money so we could leave town together, was angry when I refused to be chased off into the night. It was then that I realized she didn’t care who she was with, as long as she wasn’t in Storybrooke. It was a tough blow to stomach. I only saw her one time after that, a couple of nights before she disappeared. She showed up at the cottage to apologize. Told me she would never regret our relationship but it was time to move on. She left the map as a parting gift. I knew then that she meant to leave. Make no mistake, Emma, Milah is alive and well somewhere on this globe, living her life to the fullest and not sparing a thought for anyone in this town.”

“Then her absence is no great loss,” she observed.

He shook his head slowly as if he wasn’t sure he agreed with her assessment. “The day after she stopped by for the last time was when I pulled my idiotic stunt. I got drunk and tried to sail directly into a Nor’easter. Liam caught me at the docks and insisted on coming with me when he couldn’t talk me out of leaving. Our boat capsized about a mile up the coast. I’m only glad I was able to pull him to shore.”

“You saved his life? One-handed in a gale?”

With a bitter twist of his lips, he bit out, “Not sure you’ll allowed to claim such a thing when the only reason a person was in danger in the first place is because of you. He was trapped under the broken mast. I’m still not sure how I got him out but I crushed my hand in the process. Got a pretty nasty infection and the doctors told me the hand couldn’t be saved and if I wasn’t lucky, I’d lose the arm too. Seemed like a no-brainer.”

She felt the tension gripping him and trailed her hands down his left arm, running her fingers over the smooth scars she felt there. He didn’t pull away but he didn’t relax either. “We’re all scarred in one way or another, Killian. Yours are a bit more on display than the average person but this shows that you are a survivor. I’m beginning to think it might be a bad idea for me to find Milah. She has a lot to answer for.”

“You know, I’ve tried to track her down but I’m afraid I don’t have your abilities at finding those who don’t wish to be found. I thought I had tracked her to Paris a few years ago, there was a new artist there that had her style of sketching but I could never be sure and they disappeared before I could make contact. I still have a file on my desktop with the various artwork I found in the gallery catalogues. I always thought I’d pick up the search again later.”

A little afraid to hear his answer, she nevertheless asked, “Why do you want to find her?”

“At first, I missed her. I wanted to hear her voice. Pathetic, right?” When Emma simply gave him a look that clearly disagreed, he smiled at her. “Hmm, my secretly romantic Swan. You have a tender heart that I adore but don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know.” He looked at her with such fondness that she was tempted to go for round two right then. However, on some level, she knew this conversation was more important than their physical connection.

Unaware of her thoughts, he admitted, “Lately I’ve wanted closure. Not for the relationship. It’s been dead and gone for years. For the case, in order to clear my name. I’ve done a lot of things that I’m not particularly proud of since I arrived here but I would like any doubt removed about this crime.”

“If you don’t mind sharing, perhaps we can find her together,” she offered shyly.

“Emma, everything I have is yours,” Killian told her. With a laugh he added, “Including the gold bars I found in the third treasure hoard I uncovered.” Taking her in his arms, he held her as they laid in the Captain’s Quarters in peaceful silence.

—

The rain that had threatened in the afternoon made good on its promise by the time they arrived back at the cottage with carryout from the pizza place. Fortunately, it was the kind of summer rain that moved through quickly and left the air feeling crisp and clean.

After her third slice of pepperoni, Emma leaned back in the patio chair and sighed. “I’m supposed to meet Graham tonight to search the woods. I guess I should head back to Mary Margaret’s place eventually anyway.”

With a quizzical look, Killian took a sip of his iced tea. “A date with another man and moving out? Have I done something to offend you?”

“Very funny,” she retorted. “I think we’ve gotten things a little out of order but there’s no reason to rush into this.”

“Darling, we have already fallen headfirst into the fast lane. There’s no reason to get scared now. Besides, I happen to know that David and Mary Margaret have reached the toothbrush phase of their relationship. You will be taking your sanity into your own hands if you head back there tonight. David is a loud...sleeper.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that,” Emma said with a shiver of disgust. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to stay with you for the foreseeable future. If you don’t have any other plans, you can also join me on my date. We’re looking for bodies in the woods.”

With a grimace, Killian studied her profile. “Okay but only if I get to plan our next outing. A man likes some mystery in a relationship but dead bodies are a little overboard.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Jones.”

Forewarned about the activities for the evening consisting mainly of traversing hilly, overgrown terrain, Emma did a better job of dressing the part. Outfitted with flashlights from Killian’s emergency kit, she knew if the search lasted beyond the light of the midsummer sun they wouldn’t injure themselves in the dark at least.

Arriving at the Sheriff’s station shortly thereafter, Emma was surprised to find it empty and unlocked. Since another brief summer rain was moving through town, she texted Graham and they decided to wait it out at the station. Twenty minutes later, the rain was over but she still hadn’t heard from the sheriff. “That’s weird. He’s usually better about replying.”

“Text him a lot, do you?”

With a amused shake of her head, she admonished him. “Now is not the time to be jealous, Killian. He’s a friend and, unless I’m mistaken, he’s your friend too.”

“He’s not an enemy,” Killian conceded grudgingly. With a hint of teasing, he said, “But perhaps he is competition.” He moved around the station nonchalantly as if he might find the sheriff under a pile of papers or resting in one of the cells at the back of the open room.

With a deep breath, she walked over to him and linked her arms around his neck. “Not in my eyes. I’m not sure how to convince you that you’ve ruined me for other men.”

“I can think of some persuasive methods that will get your point across.” His roguish eyebrow was cocked in a way that she always found so endearing and sexy. “Why don’t we postpone this search party and you can give it your best shot? I promise to keep an open mind.”

“Keeping an open mind has never been your problem,” she laughed, playfully punching him in the arm. “I have a job to do so stop trying to distract me. We’ll have to go without Graham. We’re losing daylight and I’m running out of time before Henry comes home.”

What she didn’t add was the crossroads his arrival would bring. As much as she had fought against this thing with Killian, now that she was in, she was all in. While the four hour drive to Boston was not an insurmountable distance, she found the idea of being separated distasteful. She knew it was a conversation they needed to have and she wasn’t avoiding it exactly. Her rational mind kept reminding her that they had only met a month ago and people didn’t fall in love and move to different states after a few weeks of knowing someone. Especially single mothers who had children to think about.

Having officially given up on the sheriff, they headed toward the town line. Minutes later, they arrived to find the cruiser already parked on the narrow shoulder, driver side door open and cabin lights on. Jumping out of the truck, Emma exchanged a worried look with Killian and observed, “This looks like trouble.”

He followed her to the cruiser and placed his hand on the front seat. “It’s dry so he probably didn’t get here until after the rain moved through.”

“Graham!” Shouting his name repeatedly probably wasn’t an effective strategy but damn if she could think of anything else to do. Settling in the driver’s seat she found the keys still in the ignition and his walkie on the dashboard. Picking it up, she paged David. Within a minute, he answered, confusion evident in his tone.

“Emma? Why do you have Graham’s walkie?”

“We found his cruiser at the town line. No sign of him. We’re going out to the woods to search but you probably want to get here as quickly as possible. I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole scene.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait for me.”

True to his word, David’s battered old Ford pick-up pulled behind their truck in record time. Mary Margaret had made the journey with him and as soon as the car was in park, she rushed to Emma’s side. “Still no sign of him?”

“No,” Killian answered with his eyes scanning the thick woods.

“He headed this direction and he was in a hurry,” the brunette observed, her finger pointing toward an invisible trail as if it were obvious. At Emma’s silent question, she explained, “All-State Orienteering champion and the best tracker in town besides Ruby. Knowing your way around the forest is still a skill set that’s valued in Maine.”

“Sure. I mean, why not?” Emma said sarcastically. “Why don’t you lead the way then? We’ve already wasted time waiting around the station.”

Grabbing the flashlight that David handed her, Mary Margaret stepped off the shoulder and moved noiselessly into the woods. She would occasionally murmur an observation regarding a broken twig or boot print in the soft ground. Emma made a point to try to locate whatever signs the other woman noted on their pursuit but was only able to see the tracks occasionally. In no time at all, they had circled back up the hill to come out at the road not even a quarter of a mile from the cruiser. “Great. Back were we started.”

“No,” Mary Margaret disagreed. “Look here.” She squatted down and shined a beam of light on the asphalt.

Sure enough, Emma saw some kind of liquid that had dripped on the road. “What is that? Motor oil?” Reaching down, she lightly pressed her finger in one of the droplets and smeared it against her thumb. Looking at the bright red color, a chill ran through her. “Blood.”

“And tire tracks from an SUV if I had to guess,” David added, his light illuminating the wide tracks partially visible on the wet dirt of the shoulder. “Someone took him.” He immediately started back toward his truck, getting on his radio and calling the other deputy to round up some volunteers and meet them out at the woods.

—

Entering the cottage at four the following morning, Emma dropped on the couch in exhaustion. They hadn’t found any other clues as to the whereabouts of the sheriff or who grabbed him off the deserted road. Had he been followed out to the town line? Is that why he hadn’t responded to her text? Why would he have not reached out to her or David if he thought he was in trouble?

Settling next to her, Killian pushed her hair back behind her ear. “We won’t find him by staying up and worrying. You need to rest.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that this has to do with me.”

“With you? Why do you think so? Didn’t you say he found something in the woods? Something related to a disappearance that happened when you were a baby.”

“I know it’s crazy...”

“I didn’t say that, love. If you think this has something to do with you, I wouldn’t bet against your instincts.” Smiling at her with an expression of full support, he added, “You’ll figure it out. But it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“He could be out there hurt, Killian, or worse. I think we need to regroup. Go through everything again. I must have missed something. And we’re going to need all hands on deck. The situation is escalating. When are Liam and Elsa supposed to come back?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you should convince him to come back sooner.”

“That will be a pleasant conversation,” Killian muttered with a roll of his eyes. “Perhaps I’ll call Elsa instead. She’s the more reasonable one.”

“Coward,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him softly. She would never get tired of this, having him within arm’s reach. His very presence made all her worries melt into the background.

“You have more than enough bravery for the both of us,” he complimented her. “But I’ll do as you ask. After all, he’s the one who brought you into this mess. Not that I’m complaining.”

“See that you don’t. I have ways of dealing with complainers,” she ordered tartly, forcing herself to get lost in this moment with him. As she got up to walk away, his fingers hooked into the pocket of her jeans and tugged her back into his lap.

“Saucy. I like that.”

“Behave, Dr. Jones.”

There weren’t any coherent words spoken as the early morning light started to break over the horizon. He had decided to disobey, misbehaving in the most delightful ways.

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

made up fic title: i didn't know i was lonely (til i saw your face)

i wanna get better

Howard Stark is the world’s smartest man. Tony knows this, has read it in so many newspaper articles and interviews and magazines that he could probably cut out every single time a journalist writes it and make a new fucking wallpaper out of it.

It’s permeated every single aspect of Tony’s life. The problem is that Tony looks exactly like his father did. Everyone compares everything. How quickly he builds a weapon, how fast it can take for him to churn out an idea.

His humor is the same, way of dressing is the same, and he should be the same. The world needs another Howard Stark for the next lifetime. They don’t need a Tony Stark.

(And maybe...maybe Tony doesn’t mind that. It’s so much easier, to pretend to be somebody else and have them look at that.)

Tony doesn’t make friends. Ever. Friends are not beneficial, and it’s not like they could hang out anyways. Tony reads in books about friends who go to diners together and attend movies and skateboard, but really? He doesn’t have time for that. He has to build things and study business, and get his life all sorted out.

He is sixteen when he goes to college. He feels far too young, and the kind, warm hand of Jarvis’ smoothing out his hair makes the feeling worse.

“You will be fine, Anthony. Study hard, and who knows how quickly you’ll graduate.”

“Of course,” Tony says stiffly.

“Have fun, Tony,” Ana says, grinning. “College can be a fun time.”

It’s not supposed to be fun for him. Howard told him to focus on his studies only. His whole life would be the engineering and business buildings, and maybe he would sometimes get takeout. Maybe he wouldn’t.

Point is, this is just like everything else in his life: the goal was to be exactly like Howard. Graduate top of his class, blow the world away, and have a glass of scotch after a job well done. (Or gin, or whiskey, or hell...all three.)

Rhodey was not a factor. At all.

Tony had thought that his mother had paid extra to make sure her son had a room all to himself. Not out of a desire, no: out of necessity. Can’t have daddy’s little prodigy revealing anything.

And maybe she meant to, but he’s not going to question it. Not when he’s just been staring.

“Hey man,” the guy in the room says. The name-tag on the door says “Jim.”

“Hey,” Tony says. “Good to...sorry. I just...I wasn’t expecting anyone here.”

“Last minute decision. My room decided to burst a pipe. Technical difficulties. They say they’re gonna get it fixed as soon as possible. That a problem for you?”

There’s more to the eyebrow raise, more to the tone. Jim isn’t going to take shit, and he knows who Tony is. He saw it in how his eyes widened for a moment.

Tony likes him. He doesn’t know how it’s going to go later, but for now: Jim is a likable guy.

“Not at all.”

To get used to sharing is definitely interesting. Tony has to get used to a lot, which isn’t a bad thing, but he wasn’t expecting to have to tiptoe at three a.m. while making ramen because Rhodey has something called a “sleep schedule to maintain.”

Tony doesn’t know what the hell that is, but he doesn’t like it.

Jim plays a lot of records, which is...odd. Tony’s never really been one for records, mainly because he’s future-thinking. But the way that Jim smiles when he hears a song and tells Tony a little anecdote about his father’s dancing in the kitchen? That’s good.

So Tony buys some records, and falls in love with one band in particular: AC/DC. He can’t get enough of it.

Jim, apparently, can.

“Oh my god,” he groans, entering their dorm room. “Are you still playing that band?”

“They’re amazing, Jim-Jam,” Tony says, turning it down a bit. “Besides, I thought your bio lab lasted for another hour.”

“It was supposed to, but one of the sorority girls got too flustered with a fraternity guy and then things caught fire.”

“Boo,” Tony says, frowning. “It’s the worst when a lab catches on fire.”

Tony is not expecting Jim to invite him anywhere, take him anywhere. After all, that’s not what school is for, and Tony’s not exactly the world’s best roommate. Besides, their RA said that they didn’t have to be friends, they just had to be good roommates.

(Tony remembers this whenever he forgets to put away his ramen bowl.)

But Jim invites him to a restaurant with a couple of his buddies from ROTC.

“It’ll be fun,” he says, smiling. “Besides, you never go out.”

There’s a reason for that, although people here aren’t really “fanatical” about Tony, thank god.

The dinner turns out to be terrible, because all of the guys just want to talk about Tony’s dad.

“How did he end up getting the better reaction timing on the new pistol, the Stark 77?” A guy named Terry asks.

And Tony freezes.

That wasn’t Howard’s. That was his.

Jim must’ve seen something on his face.

“I, uh, I guess it must’ve just been something with the screw-in method during assembly,” Tony says weakly. “If you’ll excuse me, I just realized I have something to do at home.”

Howard’s been using his designs. No credit.

He spends about ten minutes on the phone. It amounts to this sentence:

“Without me, boy, you’d be nothing. Who do you think paid for school? Private tutors? Advanced textbooks? Who, yourself? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Tony’s red-faced, and the phone gets hung up, and he stares out at the sky for maybe way too long. He forgot his ID to swipe back in, and has to launch little bits of rock at what he thinks is his and Jim’s window.

Jim brings him up and sits with him on a bed.

“I’m fine, honestly.”

“No, you’re really not. Tony, you’re a terrible liar.”

And he is, really. He can lie about so many things, but family and his state of mind are a bit harder nowadays.

He gets hugged.

That’s...holy shit, that’s new. He’s not sure the last time he got hugged by someone he liked. Jarvis tended to like the shoulder-pat, and Ana...well, she loved to hug him, but it had been a while. (Maria and Howard, he was quite sure, had skipped the ‘human emotional intimacy’ section of life.)

“Your dad sucks,” Jim mutters. “Just so you know.”

“I know. I know.”

From then, they become friends. Tony is wondering if its pity. He asks Jim as such. He snorts.

“Tony, I don’t make friends out of pity. I’m not that kind of guy. If we were friends out of pity, I’d be moving out next semester.”

Tony smiles.

He learns how to do friend things. They have a sleepover complete with the greasiest pizza possible, video games, and at least one debate over Star Wars.

(It’s about whether or not the skeletal structure of Jabba the Hut holds up in truth, and how density of space affects him on different planets.)

Tony, somehow, starts calling him Rhodey. It sticks, and Jim doesn’t complain.

Rhodey’s sweaters slowly become Tony’s, and Rhodey teaches Tony all about casual affection.

Hugs before class, kisses on the forehead, and more than enough teasing to last three lifetimes or more.

Come May, everyone’s abuzz with summer plans. Tony, however, is dreading it. Rhodey lives in Virginia, and Tony lives in New York. His mother wants him to live in their summer home in California.

“Oh come on, I know that you’ll have to visit me,” Rhodey says, grinning. “Tell your mom it’s a business trip or something.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were corrupting me,” Tony says haughtily. Half his wardrobe is packed up, and he’s just waiting on Jarvis with the car.

“Of course I am, gotta train you for when you liaison with the government for army contracts.”

Tony laughs loudly.

“Ah, so true. I’ll mark it down as heir-apparent training with my dear, drastically old father.”

Rhodey nods, grinning.

Tony’s leaving a day earlier than Rhodey is.

He hopes he comes back a day earlier.

After all, you can’t wait until you see your friend again.

#howard stark is a stinky stinky man #absolutely do not vibe with him #and yes i was going to make this romantic rhodeytony but i think friendship is equally important #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #i just like how easily they can fit together and i am slowly falling more in love w this ship #thank u ava!#lovelyirony writes #tony stark #rhodey #iron man #war machine

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sushireads · 4 years

Note

Hey can I request some fuckboy! Yoongi smut or some college! Yoongi because I’m dying for him atm

LMAO, that’s honestly a big mood. and ofc you can! college aus are always my go-to fics and yoongi just happened to be my favorite member in this type of fic.

here’s a mini list i have of fuck boy / college yoongi fics that i guarantee is worth reading. i hope you’ll enjoy them as much as i did! also, pls reblog them if u can. <3

if any of you wants to add more fics in this list, please do send me an ask, hehe. (●♡∀♡)

an out of bounds umbrella by @yoonsgiggle

fluff | one shot | 10.2K words

you’re apologetic about almost blinding your university’s star point guard with the broken tip of your umbrella until you share a class with him and find out he’s a three star recruit but a four star dick or min yoongi doesn’t find your high school musical puns amusing.

BASKETBALL, COLLEGE, ENEMIES TO LOVERS au

Black & White by @akinnie75

romance, fluff, angst | one shot | 24.7K words

You finally confessed to Yoongi after he asked if you like him. His response is to give you a contract to sign. However, you soon realize that Yoongi manufactured your emotions and manipulated you to like him all for the sake of his senior project.

COLLEGE, SLOW BURN au

Easy Rebound by @ditzymax

smut, angst | one shot | 6.5K words

"Yoongi is one of the star players on the college basketball team. You are the head of the cheerleading squad. The pair of you would make the most beautiful (if most cliché) couple on campus, except neither of you have ever wanted anything more than the frequent, casual fuck. Yet somehow Yoongi finds his emotions straying towards dangerous territory."

BASKETBALL PLAYER, CHEERLEADER, COLLEGE au

ego: hoe chronicles by @suga-kookiemonster

smut | one shot | 7.2K words

he was messing with you again. he was messing with you, trying to get a reaction out of you simply for his own amusement. but you refused to give it to him—refused to give him the satisfaction of playing right into his hands.

— an alternate universe of ego

COLLEGE, FRAT, FUCK BOY au

Hug-o-gram by @cinnaminsvga

fluff, humor | one shot | 13.3K words

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

COLLEGE, HUGGING BOOTH au

Miss Dial by @versigny

ON-GOING | 🍙, smut | series

[11:31] You: okay so i’m texting you now like I promised instead of drunktexting yoongi and telling him how badly i want his cock tonight. Arent you proud?

[11:32] unknown number: this is yoongi, hi

FRAT au

Mixtape by @jungblue

🍙, smut, fluff, humor | one shot | 16.6K words

Two mystery students from your college run the podcast dubbed ‘mixtape.’ It’s become a sort of phenomenon around campus, listened to by almost everyone. In their most recent episode they discussed various study methods… One of them being oh so tempting.

COLLEGE, PODCAST PERSONALITY au

so i heard you like bad boys by @scriptaed

fluff | one shot | 4.7K words

while others see min yoongi as the resident heartthrob of the school - quiet, resilient, and mysterious - you can’t see him as anything other than your dorky best friend since childhood; but what you don’t know is his long desire to be anything but that, even if it means becoming the bad boy in town… or at least try to.

COLLEGE, FRIENDS TO LOVERS au

#sushi:ficlists #m:yoongi #au:college #to the other lovely ppl who also requested for ficlists #you're not ignored ;-;#i am very slowly completing the ficlists sldkfjs #pls hang in there!!

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atinykidult · 4 years

Text

TMW #1—SVT Performance Unit

[angst] [3122 words] — 500-1000 word scenarios, Trainee!au, specific tags with each part, x reader

[a/n] — To supplement my growth as a writer, and to hopefully post more often, I’m going to start this TMW series. In it, I just want to explore different aus/emotions/styles in very short but hopefully still impactful blurbs. Thank you for reading!

[taglist] — @yunwoo @woozisnoots @multifanhere (Thank you for supporting me! It means the world!)

— K W O N S O O N Y O U N G

[established relationship] [trainee!reader] [tw for trainee contracts being horrible]

Heartache is saying goodbye for a very long time, even though I’ll see you tomorrow.

He lets out a watery okay.

You bite your lip and nod.

“We’ll give you a few minutes, then please return to your training rooms.”

“I understand,” he says.

“Yes.”

The door clicks shut, and you both look at each other.

His eyes are bright with tears; yours are, too.

You let out a tired yet almost humored snort. Watery eyes, tired hearts. It’s ironic. This is how you and Soonyoung got together in the first place.

You were a good thing, and you were incredibly good for each other.

After all, trainee life is hard. And the closer to debut, the further away you get from any non-idol humans.

And to be at a company with two groups nearing that fabled debut?

Your shared manager’s exhausted admission sums it up: “This is my fault. The company’s, really. We should have expected two overworked trainees to find comfort in each other.”

Soonyoung wetly clears his throat. “I—I am so, so sorry. I…”

You shake your head. “Don’t be.”

He meets your eyes, expression fiercely argumentative.

“We both knew what we were doing.”

His shoulders, usually shaking in laughter or holding themselves strong for choreography, are hunched over. For being the cause for that, you hate yourself.

“‘We both knew what we were doing,’” he murmurs. “I… I guess we did.”

More than viciously heartbroken, you just feel bone tired. Even now, you wish you could lean against Soonyoung and feel him lean against you in return. You’d spent many hours that way, silent in your mutual understanding.

Now there’s a table between you.

A contract laying between you.

No comfort, no soft touches—only two pens.

“We should sign.” You don’t raise your hand, despite your words. “Get it over with.”

You can’t feel your face.

Soonyoung’s lips are pressed so tightly together you wonder if they’ll bruise. Distantly, your insides curl when you recall the color they turn when they do.

“Right,” he agrees, not reaching for a pen either.

He tearfully stares at you, memorizing the way you stare back at him.

The thing that had attracted you to each other so powerfully?

Your sheer determination, mirrored in the other.

And also...

Your shared dream to debut.

A tear falls down his cheeks, and you can’t help yourself when you reach over and wipe them away with the pads of your thumbs.

Instead of whispered words of, we’ll get there, together, you can only offer him this:

“Keep working on that fluidity.” Your voice shakes a little. “You’ve been getting so much better.”

Your way of saying: I’ll miss you. I’ll watch your growth and be proud of you.

“You, too—with your locks.” He sounds like someone’s strangling him. “Even Jihoon was saying how much you’ve improved.”

His way of saying: I love you. I’ll watch you, too.

You both reach for your pens.

“See you after five thousand,” he says, hand hovering over the paper.

There’s a meteor in your throat, moving down and down. You shake your head wordlessly.

With your inability to reply, he signs his name.

You sign yours.

With the sound of your pen dropped to the table, the meteor meets your heart and pushes it down and down and down....

Trainees Kwon Soonyoung and Y/L/N Y/N shall not interact again until either of two conditions.

Condition A) The latter of the two reaches their group’s third anniversary.

Condition B) The event of both eventual groups acquiring 500k sales on a single album.

— W E N J U N H U I

[angst with lighthearted aspects] [could be “canon” setting] [childhood friends]

Heartache is saying goodbye and leaving things unsaid.

You and Junhui—childhood friends to best friends to something a little too tender to be platonic—well.

There’s the whole story, really.

No verb needs to be added.

As you stare at your phone, you huff out a chuckle.

You blame PMS when your eyes well up a little, scrolling through the many selcas Junhui has sent you. It warms your heart whenever he sends you them. Even though, or rather because, he has little phone time, it means the world that he sends you a quick selca every so often.

It also makes your pathetic heart scream a little.

Not from a stabbing pain, not a scream saying I’m on a 9/10 on the pain scale, SOS!

A scream more like I feel a little helpless to my pain, and it aches dammit, and I should have just told him I loved him.

As one of your alarms goes off, you scream into your elbow.

Back to the books.

Heartache masks itself under warm memories and whispers of comfort.

Junhui, for all his loudness and talking much too fast, knows his heart. He understands what he feels, most of the time, and he knows what he wants.

He wants to debut with the other trainees in the Seventeen Project.

Right now, he wants to eat a delicious supper. Then he wants to sleep until he wakes up naturally.

Then, he wants a three day vacation so he can go home and reminisce childhood schoolyard games with a certain best friend. And maybe say those particular words...

Well, that’s not a want.

It’s a wish.

And while his stomach flutters at the thought of it, the reality of the ache in his muscles pulls his attention away from the pleasant fantasy of those wishes.

For now, it’s time to focus on wants and learning new choreography.

But maybe, in ten years, maybe….

Maybe then, it’ll be time to think about wishes.

The day Junhui left your hometown, you saw him off. Although you couldn’t see him to the plane itself, you shared breakfast with him and spent every minute together until his family left in their car.

At one point, he and you were sitting on his bed, staring at an unnaturally clean room.

“You know… I bet you’d pass the audition if you tried,” he joked, not for the first time.

“Haha. And I would enjoy trainee life just as much as you enjoy schoolwork.”

Both of you smiled with your eyes.

“But you’d enjoy it because you’d see me every day!”

“And you could enjoy my schoolwork just as much seeing me everyday!”

A pause, then a much too honest: “That would make the school work worth it.”

If you were brave, you would have asked him something like: Are you trying to say something? Please tell me you’re trying to say something.

You weren’t brave.

“Then why are you leaving me all alone?! Huh?! To suffer all by myself?! Do you know how many credits I’m taking?”

“And you’re leaving me to a bunch of foreigners!! So what about that?!”

“I’m not the one leaving!”

Insert spluttering.

And laughter.

So much obnoxious laughter.

It was a good last day together.

It was a warm goodbye.

But, want to know something that sometimes makes your heart scream a little?

Wondering if you could have made that last day even better if you had been brave.

— X U M I N G H A O

[one-sided pining] [TW for slight age difference/feelings for an authority figure][favorite of this set]

Heartache is falling for someone untouchable.

First of all, don’t point any fingers at him.

Having the vocal instructor be a beautiful, attractive, and young person? Who compliments trainees in their native tongue? And sits with them at lunch?

It’s like the higher ups are trying to weed out the trainees via dating clause.

Second of all, and corollary of the first point: Minghao’s not the only one.

“Our teacher’s the best!” Junhui crows in his ear, Mandarin a little too breathless.

Minghao lets out a little grunt in response.

“I didn’t know our teacher could dance, too!”

“Seonsaengnim is very talented,” one of the Korean trainees says to Minghao, ignorant to Jun’s words.

Minghao wills his cheeks to not show anything.

“Really!” someone else says.

He groans at his thumping heart.

Third of all, it’s not like the feelings will last.

Shortly after the dancing display, Seonsaengnim sits with Minghao, Junhui, and a few other trainees at lunch. Here, Minghao learns something very important about their young instructor.

“Yeah, I was a trainee just like you three!” you say, hoping this conversation doesn’t take a poor turn. “Honestly, I think it was only a little over a year ago.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up a teacher here?” Jihoon doesn’t mention any of the trainees’ popular assumptions in his question.

Seonsaengnim must not have been as good as everyone else.

Maybe all the other trainees were more beautiful.

Honestly, I bet that’s it.

Minghao doesn’t quite know it for sure, but he knows that Jihoon, like himself, worries that he won’t debut because of his visuals. Korean entertainment… just isn’t fair.

“Korean entertainment goes through its phases.” It’s like you read his thoughts. Minghao can tell you’re sifting through your thoughts very carefully, choosing your words not unlike the way he often does. Trying to find the words. The right way to articulate best intentions. “For me, I was good enough that even though I couldn’t debut, the company thought I was worth keeping around. That was honestly very…” He's fascinated by the way your tongue peaks out to wet your lips. “Very complimentary. Of them, to me. I’m thankful.”

“Do you think you could debut in the future?” someone asks, stupidly.

“No.” Minghao is surprised to see your lips begin to smile so sincerely. “But I’m looking forward to helping you all debut.”

There’s no bitterness in your tone.

Something in him stirs fiercely. He wishes he could have that surety.

When you smile warmly at him, tilting your head as you study his expression, the buzz that courses through him is surely the way Soonyoung would feel if he ever met Taemin. Surely.

It’s admiration, that’s all it is.

Fourth of all, it was inevitable, really.

“Minghao, can we talk for a minute?”

He nearly jumps at the Mandarin.

There’s rage sitting in his stomach right now—at the company, at the guest instructor, at the mistakes he made today, at his own pathetic face.

Minghao just wants to disappear for a while.

But he can’t say no. Doesn’t want to, to this one staff member.

“Of course.”

You sit next to him, back to the studio’s mirror.

“I know today was hard, but you’ve been doing better the last four practices in a row. That’s incredible. Remember… Every time you’re not going to improve visibly. That would be impossible.”

“Thanks.”

“And that instructor is a piss poor excuse for a—oh, sorry. I shouldn’t be teaching you those kinds of words—”

“Seonsaengnim, I won’t be telling anyone on you.” He can feel the corners of his lips twitching up, despite himself.

“Just… Know you’re already working hard enough. You don’t need to be… ‘working double because you don’t have the visuals.’” You run an aggressive hand through your hair and let out a righteously indignant noise. “Just… You’re so talented, and I honestly think you look perfectly attractive. So… Just… Ugh. Know that you’re unofficially my favorite. And I hope today doesn’t stick with you. Damn, that was a horrible instructor...”

Minghao can’t help but flush at the praise, and how intimate it feels for you to be here. Sitting with him. Rambling to him so that he’ll feel better.

This talk will stick with him.

But only for the best reasons.

You take his hand; squeeze it once reassuringly.

“You’re going really far. Remember that.”

He meets your eyes, heartbeat galloping.

It was inevitable.

Fifth of all, it’s not like he’ll ever say anything.

“Today’s my last day with you! I’m so proud of you all for making it this far.”

It’s not like he’ll ever have the chance.

“Thank you for everything, Seongsaengnim!”

“Yes, thank you!”

“You were our best teacher!”

Minghao freezes.

It feels like someone took all the warmth he had felt from that talk, and drained it from him. And decided that, you know what? For the hell of it, let’s just dump some ice cubes in there. Like rubbing salt in a wound, but emotionally.

The practice passes as quickly as clouds on a windy day.

Then, suddenly, you’re hugging everyone goodbye.

Then, suddenly, you’re fondly ushering the last of the trainees through the door.

Then, suddenly, you’re brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Minghao, you’ve made it to the debut lineup. I’m so proud of you.”

You say more, but his mind is empty except for the panic settling in.

He’ll never get to say anything.

He grabs your wrist.

“Seonsaengnim, you can’t be leaving.”

A surprised frown. “I can’t?”

I need you to stay with me throughout my career.

I need you to keep watching me improve, with that proud look in your eye.

I need—

Minghao can’t find any Korean to answer with, leaving him nearly in tears.

He feels hysterical.

And you hug him.

And the tears fall.

“I’ll miss you too, Minghao.”

I love you.

So I need you to stay.

“I’ll be watching the headlines for your name, and when I see it, I’ll be telling my new trainees, ‘He was my favorite!’” A pure, bright grin against his sweaty hair. “You’ve made it, Hao! You don’t need to be crying over me.”

That’s not the words that will make me feel better.

“I—I—”

Minghao knows the three Korean syllables.

But it’s not like he’ll ever say them.

— L E E C H A N

[angst] [exes]

Heartache is pouring out my regrets out on stage, knowing you’ll never see it.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, this minute, this song.

But he is.

It’s trainee evaluation day; his focus should be unwavering.

Yet, as he takes his spot with the other three trainees, he feels that familiar wave of regret bowl his heart over.

His memories of you flash through his head as he lowers it, waiting for the music to play.

Those memories are bowling pins in his mind, one toppling into another and that pin into another—

And Chan, being who he is, aims for a strike every single time.

“It’s alright you cancelled today—I know being a trainee leaves you no time.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The first one always falls, and then the next.

“I understand. It’ll be worth it when you make it to the big stage.”

“Only if you’re in the front row.”

“Talk soon.”

The second pin rushes into the third.

“I have to go in a minute. But you were trying to tell me?”

“It’s… no, it’s nothing, babe. Dance good. And… maybe—call me soon?”

“I promise I’ll call right after.”

And the next ones always fall much faster.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. We were all so exhausted, and I just couldn’t deal with y—”

He stops himself in time, but the damage is done.

“You just couldn’t deal with me? Well, you know what, Lee Chan. Maybe right now I can’t deal with you.”

And then they all fall indiscriminately, until the last few are teetering, wobbling...

The music plays, and muscle memory sweeps Chan’s body away into the choreography.

“No, Chan, you don’t need to apologize. I understand exactly how we stand. I really do believe you, don’t worry about that. You like me, but not as much as yourself! And your ‘dreams.’ I understand completely.” Your voice is a both a cry and a hiss by now. “You’re really selfish sometimes, you know that?”

...And the last one falls.

“Chan, your lyrics are really... “

“Are they that bad?”

“No—not bad… Just, well… Heavy. For someone your age.”

“It’s a heavy topic, hyung.”

“True.”

“So, can we use them for the evaluation?”

“No. They’ll be wanting something lighthearted for that. But…”

“But.”

“I’ll hold onto these, if you don’t mind. We can use them on an album someday.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“No, really! They’re good lyrics.”

“No, uh… That wasn’t what I meant! It’s just…”

“Are they too personal? You don’t want them in the world?”

“Sort of.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s decided then. We won’t use them.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“What, you’re leaving? Don’t you at least want these back, if they’re so personal?”

“...No, that’s alright. I… I—just, can you keep them for me? I don’t want them again. Ever.”

“Hey, I—”

“Please.”

“You wrote ‘I’m sorry,’ nineteen times. Not to pull the responsible hyung card on you, but I feel like this isn’t something you can… keep away from yourself. For forever.”

“I know. I’m working on it.”

“Okay then.”

“Thanks for everything, hyung.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll just go now.”

“Okay…. Uh… Actually, Chan?”

“What?”

“Just remember that, even if… Even because you’ve messed up before... Just know that doesn’t mean you’re that person for forever. I don’t know if you can make up for whatever happened. But you’re not… ‘stuck on this tear-stained road, for ever. You’re a good kid.”

“Are you going after sappy hyung role, now?”

“You can talk to us if you’re not feeling okay.”

“Thank you, hyung. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Chan!”

The song ends. The dance resolves with a final swoop of the arm. And Chan’s heart hurts a little.

“That was really good,” someone whispers.

“For real, I got chills.”

“Chan-ie, are you crying?” one of his hyungs asks. He touches his face; he is. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” he feels himself reply.

Hey, Y/N. I’m sorry if this is the last thing you want to see. Hell, you might have me blocked, and honestly, a better me would hope you do. Anyways, I needed to get off my chest how sorry I am. I’m not going to try to explain myself. But I needed to try to let you know that I understand what I did was selfish. And that I shouldn’t have let us continue like that for so long….

Five years later, Chan will perform a solo at a concert.

Thematically, there’s a lot going on. And the lyrics say sorry a lot of times.

The fandom wonders what inspired the lyrics.

Chan doesn’t cry when he performs it.

The ending of the song isn’t happy, but it does resolve. The sad chord makes any listener feel a little bittersweet, though.

And, from the front row, one ticket remains unclaimed.

—T H A N K Y O U F O R R E A D I N G!

If any of these touched you in particular, please leave me an ask or rb! I really appreciate any feedback. Have a great day!!

#caratwritersclub #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #the8 #minghao #svt jun #wen junhui #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #dino #lee chan #minghao imagines #jun imagines #hoshi imagines

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dannypuro · 4 years

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So I just binged Something Telling and it’s just, so amazing? Like, your characterization is so on point and I just have nothing but nice things to say about it. Can I make a list? I’m gonna make one cause I have Emotions™️ about every one of these dweebs.

1. Grantaire is just, so nice and kind and smart, and not an alcoholic! Like, I love the fics where he deals with that, but it’s nice to see him being a semi-functional adult person. (Was he an alcoholic in this universe at one point?) Plus, he’s still enough of an emotional disaster otherwise. Love him ❤️

2. ENJ VS TECHNOLOGY. I could read about that forever. Swearing in an elevator? Iconic. Never using the space bar? Perfect. Also now I refer to movies as “movings” in my head so there’s that.

3. Combeferre is the sane man of this family and I love it so much. Also I never thought of vaccines for time travel AUs and I genuinely cackled when Ferre brought it up. Like, yeah, that’s a good point.

4. Jehan is always chaotic and I love them for it. Also, I know R doesn’t want to hear about it, but I absolutely want to know what their sex talk consisted of. I’m curious.

5. Baz and Feuilly. Yes. Good. Lovely boys. So glad they got their shit together.

6. “I am wanted by the government for high treason.” Honestly Enj has so many golden moments/lines. He is trying his best and I love him.

7. The PTSD our boy has and how he’ll have to work through it, but he has Friends and Boyfriend to help. (Side note: I live in the US, so I don’t know how much of a thing it might be in Paris, but do they set off a lot of fireworks on New Years? Cause I feel like that would be a thing that Enj would have to deal with, especially if no one tells him about it beforehand)

8. The research you would have had to do for this is just, incredible. And I think you captured how someone would really be if they just got yeeted into the future with no tech experience whatsoever. Like, I’ve been living here since 1994 and I’m overwhelmed by stuff sometimes.

9. Slightly unrelated but I also saw that you did the AU where Grantaire is a baker and Enj is totally not in the mafia (the name escapes me) and I also love that fic.

Hopefully that was somewhat coherent! Seriously though your work is great and I can’t wait for more!

(Also, if you want and it’s not a plot point of the next one, what is Enjolras’s reaction to musicals? I know the boy loves his opera, but someone had to have shown him something on YouTube and I just crave knowledge about this universe) Thanks! 🥰

GUH thank you!!!!!!! thank you thank you!!! and thank you for taking the time to make a list because i thrive off of validation alone and it made my day 🥺. SO.

grantaire is a total sweetheart. like, genuinely a nice person who is trying his best despite the fact that he has a hard time. baby. of course, the funniest part about him is the fact that he has NO idea that he’s actually just like... nice. he’s like... oh man it sure sucks that i’m the worst person possible to help someone in need... sucks that i’m the only one here... sorry dude i’m sorry i’m not combeferre... and then he proceeds to just like. make beef stew and be so careful and kind and thoughtful and try his very best and let enjolras go to sleep on his shoulder during a moving. like... sir. ok. also, yes, i tend to write him a little more... with his shit together, especially in this fic. you mentioned that you read And If I See You In The Daylight (the bakery fic)--i kind of wrote this assuming a similar character arc (minus the bakery, of course. like, grantaire used to be much, much more of a mess in a lot of ways, and drinking too much was a part of that, and he’s slowly been working on it. and now he’s 29, and he’s doing his best, and his friends love him. he’s doing a little better in this fic than in the bakery fic--maybe he’s a little older? maybe because combeferre is a little harsher than jbm and gets on his case when he starts to slip back into old habits? yeah.

ENJ VS TECHNOLOGY. sweetie. baby. the first time combeferre vacuums his apartment when enj is around he’s like “hey man, do you mind if i do the vacuuming?” and enj (has NO idea what that word is, is falling asleep while reading on the couch in the sun) is like “do what you will” and then ferre turns the vacuum on and enjy does that thing when a cat is startled and it jumps like three feet up in the air and puffs up like a squirrel. he’s awake now.

combeferre. baby. he’s genuinely, genuinely trying his best, but it’s fucking hard when you’re tired and overworked and also none of your friends use their brains more than 30% of the time and also your new best friend is a spiky little revolutionary from EIGHTEEN THIRTY TWO. so. um. he’s a little stressed. but he loves enjy so much and doesn’t even mind when he’s dramatic and annoying because he’s such a sweet dude and they’re FRIENDS. sometimes he comes home from a long day of work and enj has come over and washed all of his dishes and brought over takeout but also rearranged all of his books and also eaten like three mangoes. listen. friendship is about gently tormenting your BFF because you are COMFORTABLE AROUND EACH OTHER.

jehan. baby. instagram influencer supreme. i’ve gotten like a bazillion asks about their sex talk--i SWEAR i will write it eventually because the concept of it just cracks me up. jehan is like. “ok. enjy. tell me what you know about sex” and enj is like... “i understand that..... it occurs?” and jehan is like :^/ and enj is like “one must be careful not to contract syphilis from unseemly sources?” and jehan is like “TIme For A Conversation Before Grantaire Messes This Up”

baz and feuilly. babies. they’re just such a sweet, casual couple and they like each other so much. also, first date 3 am kebabs? after they FINALLY communicated? and then baz gets railed like he deserves? they deserve it.

enj has a secret little sense of humor and it’s just a little hidden by the fact that he is 1) repressed 2) awkward. but it’s there! he’s just so smart and secretly funny and grantaire thinks he’s fucking hilarious. except when he jokes about the fact that he’s technically dead. it makes grantaire sad. he’s like YOU’RE NOT DEAD THOUGH BABE YOU’RE EATING JAPCHAE RIGHT NOW and enj is like. “i believe that if you observe my wicky encyclopaedia you shall learn otherwise 🤷” and grantaire is like 😰BABE

yeah. yeah. listen. he’s got a lot of shit to deal with. it’s gonna take a while. like... that is some SERIOUS trauma, and he didn’t even have any time in his own century to process it. he went straight from a very violent event--LITERALLY about to be executed 😰--to being zapped to a time where he recognizes NOTHING. that... didn’t help. and he can’t really go to a therapist (which causes combeferre no shortage of distress) since like... he wouldn’t be able to explain anything about the barricades or the source of his trauma to begin with. so... yeah. but yes! he has friends and a boyfriend who love and support him so much! and it’s the framework he needs to begin to work through stuff at his own pace 🥺 (also, yes, fireworks are a big thing. they’re also big for the 14 juillet, which i... kind of forgot to address. i might go back and write a scene somewhere around ch. 5 for it and post it on here. we’ll see.)

i’m so glad you appreciated the research! 🥺🥺🥺 legit i... kind of spent a stupid amount of time on it. i really tried to make it as realistic as possible (barring, like, the whole time-zap thing, and also the whole “characters from les mis” thing) since the whole POINT is the differences between their two times, so... i’m glad it paid off. it means a lot to hear that u vibed with it.

thank you thank you! again-- And If I See You In The Daylight is the name of the bakery fic, and i also love it 🥺🥺🥺 . to everyone else... READ IT!

enjolras does not like musicals. like... yes, there was a natural progression from 20th century opera to early musicals, but enjolras missed all of that. and 21st century musicals are pretty fucking different from 1820s/30s opera. he can’t quite understand the music. the plotlines don’t make sense. the plots aren’t stupid enough for his taste. they take themselves too seriously. not enough miscommunication. orchestral parts not nice enough. cosette tries to show him a musical on youtube and enjy is like. who is that. why are they all dressed the same. what is going on. why do they not use their Pocket Fones? why does it sound like this. hellp. (she gives up and shows him a Puccini opera instead.)

anyways. THANK YOU! and to everyone else--send me asks! send me prompts! send me questions! i WILL respond to them and i treasure them all i just tend to be kind of slow! but i love to receive them! thank you!!!

#something telling #wholockiantabs

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