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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him.

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?��

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed.

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release.

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you.

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

#jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot #the losers #dc

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moxfirefly · 3 years

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Good afternoon, this has been in the works for a while now and I finally got around to finishing it and being pretty content of it (this is gonna go up on AO3 soon along with the others that aren’t request) but I wanted to post it here first. Enjoy!

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

“Wish you were here right now

All of the things I'd do”

Gaming was always an escape.

From childhood to adulthood. There was some gaming equipment in your hands, controls, handhelds, keyboards and so on. There was just something calming about entering a fantasy world and immersing yourself in scenery and stories that made you stray from bad days and long nights.

For Donatello it was the same.

On one of his many supply scavenges Splinter had found a dumpster near a toy store that was going out of business. It was a memorable haul for them. What they expected to be routine things mixed with some type of groceries had turned into literal Christmas in July. Stuffed animals, board games, action figures and even a few gaming consoles with some cartridges and cd’s. Noticeably they were considered damaged or improperly manufactured, but they didn’t care and for Donnie he had spent a good week and a half fixing up the Nintendo and Play Station 2 consoles back into working conditions.

That alone had been plenty for him but nevertheless Mikey being so excited about playing wanted him to join him. They had played for hours and each disc or cartridge they tried out held a new story, a new set of controls to learn, new visuals and such. He was immediately hooked.

When he had gotten the first parts to start building a PC from scratch he knew there would be another world of possibilities for games.

Now gaming is a leisure for Donnie. Something he does for enjoyment and an escape when his projects become too much. The world of online gaming allowed him to also explore the possibilities of chatting with others though, the humans they were not allowed to see or speak to (with the exception of their Hogosha) but needless to say it wasn’t like Donnie broadcasted his identity and whereabouts. More so these people only came to game and speak game.

Donnie absolutely does detest the unnecessary sexism that gaming brings. Many a time he had read on chats or heard on his head set such derogatory comments thrown at female players. Never the one to stand such misogynistic behavior (he was raised better and had heard enough horror stories from April) he always shot that shit down quickly. Given his status as being far above his gaming peers he had developed respect and none of them ever shot back at him.

That’s how he runs into you.

On the opposing team nonetheless.

Once your female voice ran through the ears of the group he had been stuck in, the comments began to rain down. Some colorful, some lazy and some downright disgusting. Donnie had had enough and with some of his more illegal methods, had managed to push out the players in his party and send the audio recording to the email of the developers.

On exceptionally petty days he did far worse.

You had been stunned, wondering why the gang of immature boys had suddenly disappeared. Only one of them remained with the gamer tag specifying ‘Don_DuzMachines’ you couldn’t help but giggle at it.

You had asked if the sudden disappearance had been a weird glitch and if Don (as you assumed you should call him) had anything to do about it.

“Let’s just say I’ve got my ways” His soft voice rang through your headset.

“Well it’s hardly the first time I’ve had a gang of prepubescent boys tell me to suck their dicks” You started to move away in the map but stopped abruptly.

“Hey do you wanna play something else?” You asked tentatively. “Figured the least I can do is thank you” Donnie sat back pensively, well there was no harm in that now was there?

And so it started innocently.

Co-op games even the occasional match against one another. Each game you two always spoke through your headsets. Mostly banter about strategy or directions for who to do what or the occasional friendly jabs. You hadn’t revealed much that wasn’t the nickname you used as your gamer tag, and well Don had basically done the same.

That is until you decide to poke a little into his life. “You go to college?” You had asked, fingers gliding over the keyboard as you both partook in a raid. Donnie hadn’t expected such a question and he didn’t necessarily want to divulge much, he opted for a more ambiguous response. “I do my own studying, sort of like home schooling if you will?” Well he wasn’t wrong, Splinter had been both father and teacher to them, Donnie had just excelled more quickly and soon enough he was teaching his brothers on the academic side.

“You broke too, huh? Trust me it’s not worth the insane debt you’ll develop in six years that’ll take forty years to pay off” You chuckled with a hint of bitterness, Donnie couldn’t help but laugh and snort.

“That’s cute” You said sincerely. Donnie smiled, heat creeping up his neck.

How innocent things had been at the start.

For six months the two of you divulged little to no information. You never asked to video chat and Donnie never asked for your socials. It had just been a mutual agreement to keep the mystery that just wasn’t verbalized. Maybe it was for the better, because surely what had began as a gaming buddies situation had escalated to, well Donnie couldn’t really explain.

The first instance the two of you had been stuck on a map solving intricate puzzles. It was one of the more relaxed games the two of your partook in together when you didn’t want to deal with other players in a lobby.

“Dating apps are a nightmare, they’re only worth it for getting dumb funny stories” You had been playing but also checking some of the matches you’ve gotten on a site. Donnie swallowed, why did that settle so oddly in his stomach?

“Well any funny ones you’d like to share?” Don asked curiously hoping he wasn’t over stepping any boundaries. “One guy wanted me to cover my feet in marmalade, I really almost hit fuck it and did it” You couldn’t help but smile when Don choked, coughed and bursted out laughing.

“What kink is that even related to? I mean I know people enjoy feet but marmalade?” He was bewildered. “Come on Don don’t kink shame the poor guy, who are you to police his eclectic culinary desires?” Now the two of you couldn’t help but burst into another fit of laughter. Both your avatars were idle standing, the game somewhat abandoned in favor for the conversation.

“Hey I’m not kink shaming, we all have our weird kinks” Donnie smiled sitting back on his swivel chair. You clicked out of the dating site, chin resting on your hand. “Are we finally having this conversation? Cause I love this shit, it’s my bread and butter” You sat back in your gaming chair, tucking your knees.

Donnie felt so shy but the barrier of mistery the two of you had built urged him on. He was curious, like stupid curious what you looked like and while he had everything to figure out exactly where you were, it wasn’t morally correct for him. So why not just indulge in the conversation?

“Well it’s not feet, sorry to disappoint” He heard you laugh, an infectious sound he had grown to enjoy so much. “Feet are so passé anyways, what about bondage?” You spun slowly in your chair, the sounds of Don adjusting and clicking on the keyboard ringing in your ears.

“Bondage is a go, especially sensory deprivation” He was checking some documents April had forwarded to him in regards to a case they were dealing with, but he could multitask. You made an approving noise, nodding while taking a sip of your drink. “Into that D/s stuff?” You asked wanting to see what else he might like.

“Well yeah, but I do enjoy more um... Fem Dom stuff” He finished up the email he wrote out for April and hit send. “A man with taste, not something we get often” You chuckled but decided to add. “I wouldn’t mind having a guy submit to me” You bit the inside of your cheek a little shy suddenly.

Something about that statement made heat spread south for Donnie. The concept of being dominated? By a woman? He peaked a look behind him, pushing one side of his headset down to hear what his brothers might be up to but he heard only music and chatting voices.

“What’s your favorite thing?” He inquired almost too softly.

“Erotic ASMR” There was no trace of embarrassment in your voice and that somehow made Donnie hot.

“Maybe we frequent the same sites for that” Don boldly threw out. You made an approving face before sitting forward and typing on your keyboard. A beat or two later Donnie saw an email notification from you on one of his many burner emails. He opened it finding links to audios from various sites all catered to erotic audios. Donnie whistled, this was a gold mine and true to his predictions you did indeed have some of his favorite sites to peruse.

“It’s not just male audios by the way, there’s women too” You sat back once again, nervously playing with your hair. “Thanks... Well I do like hearing both” Donnie confessed, voice avoiding a stutter.

You grinned. Oh he was even more fun that you could’ve expected.

Curiously enough that had been the tamest experience into yours and Donnie’s sex talks. Because it hadn’t really stopped at that, they progressively escalated little by little. Fave kinks had turned to fave sites, fave sites had turned into fave videos. Donnie never pictured he’d share his hidden folder with a stranger no less.

You nor Donnie could really say how the two of you had ended up one late night, with yet another abandoned game, talking about weird but satisfying cyber sex experiences. Some of your stories had been on the more comical side but a few had riled Donnie up to the point that he couldn’t ignore it. There was a shift in your voice as well, an allure that enticed him.

“Can I be honest?” You licked your suddenly dry lips. Donnie tensed momentarily, not sure what to expect. “Of course, please” You squeezed your thighs together, ‘please’ shouldn’t sound so good coming out of his mouth. You trace lazy circles on your thighs, something pushed you. “I’m kinda turned on by this...by talking to you about all this stuff” Maybe this was overstepping it, surely there was nothing wrong between two adult friends discussing such matters.

There was no need to tell Don that you had yearned to put a face to the name. But his hesitance spoke of insecurities and you could understand that.

“I am too...” Donnie looked up at what he called a ceiling in his home, the darkness of the sewer system and concrete. He’d never have a chance with you, it was a deeply rooted desire for intimacy and if virtually he could obtain it then so be it.

For all your boldness you felt a wave of bashfulness hit, crashed around your self confidence. Then Donnie steps up and you feel your toes curl in excitement. “Do you want to have a better experience?” Donnie runs both hands down his face, who was he to provide better experiences, he’d never even physically had a partner. The slow sigh that escapes your throat is comforting static in his headset. “Yeah, yeah I really do actually” You feel a smile etch itself on your lips.

“You can call me Donnie” It’s the closest to his name, and truthfully he really wants to hear you say it.

“Y/N,” You say to which Donnie makes an approving noise, he finds your name to be pretty. He rolls it in his mouth, testing the syllables, he can envision moaning it, well he wants to moan it if he can be completely honest. He wants to put a face to that name but he quickly pushes the thought out. There’s a pregnant pause where neither of you engage or make the first attempt. Not wanting to let this mood flee, Donnie swallows and closes his eyes. The hum of the abandoned game grounding him.

“Say my name again” It’s not a forceful demand, all the contrary he wants to hear the pitch in your voice when you say it, he wants to picture how each tone would variate depending on what he would do or say. “Donnie...” You smile to yourself when you say it, a hint of desire nestled in it and Don notices that and wants more of it.

There’s a lengthy sigh from your behalf, hands wandering up your thighs towards your chest. “I’d like to be there right now, would like to say it against your lips” Your bold confessions makes Donnie’s pulse quicken. He runs a ghosting touch up his plastron, the vision of a delicate hand doing it. The imaginary weight of you on his lap grinding down on his hard member. Donnie grips himself through his shorts a soft groan escaping his parted lips.

“Want you to kiss me” He swallows dryly, the approving noise you make pushing him forward. “Feel your lips all over, feel your mouth around me...” He lifts his hips, hand cupping himself and the small hitch in your breath is a sound he wants permanently recorded in his brain.

“God are you big? I bet you are” You kneed your breast, thumb and forefinger pinching the sensitive nubs until they’re perked. Donnie smirks to himself, freeing his aching member and looking down at himself. Mutant genes aside he feels somewhat shamefully proud of his cock, he wonders if you would like it... deeply buried within you. “Yeah I am, I think you can take it something tells me” You catch that teasing tone and the urge to swallow him whole and make him see stars is too much.

Your hand finds its way into your underwear, the warm wetness making you moan as you tease your middle finger between the lips to find your sensitive nub there. You bite back another lengthy moan but recover enough to breathlessly say, “oh fuck, Donnie” and that very sound makes him shiver. Never did he think he’d hear something so temptingly good, said with such sincerity. God the things he would do to smell your arousal right now, to taste the wetness. “Push two fingers in slowly” Donnie almost pleas, his voice shakey, hand pumping his cock at a steady pace. You do as he wishes, your gutted moan making more precum gather at the tip of his member.

“God-shit- you sound so good, wish you were riding my big dick right now” He wants to chastise himself for saying something like that, but he can’t deny that statement shakes something in you. He can hear it, the sound of your fingers mixed with a continuously rising string of moans. “Ohmygod” Words tumble out strewn together by your pleasure. “Donnie please, please fuck me harder” That alone makes him sit up and push forwards, one hand on his desk as the other works himself up in upward twisting strokes.

Donnie can’t erase the idea of slamming into you right here on his desk, maybe bent over, maybe you’ll let him cum on your face...

He pushes the idea away, he can’t envision your face now, not right now, not when your moans have you sounding this deliciously in need. You’re plunging two fingers into your core as your free hand runs firm circles around your clit. “Christ Donnie you sound so good baby” You moan, perspiration covering your body and Donnie can only groan his approval.

There’s a few minutes where it’s just the two of you lost in your own pleasure together. The constant chants of ‘fuck’ and ‘god’ and ‘yes’ mixed between the two of you. “Say it... again” Donnie groans out, hand quickening, briefly gathering some saliva and letting it fall on his hard member for better traction. “Don-oh, Donnie cum in me!” You’re so far gone, not caring what comes out of your mouth. The wet sounds in your head set and a vibration you figured could be static mixed with his groans was all you heard.

Donnie’s hips twitch, feels that request swim inside of his brain and the image of burying himself as deeply as you could take is all he needs. Just as your moans rise in crescendo he feels the first twitch and relief of his orgasm overtake him. He’s never felt it hit him this hard it knocks the wind out of him, each rope shooting out onto his hand and floor. In his minds eye though, it’s your suffocating heat taking it, milking him until he’s a shivering mess. It plays perfectly like a movie, he swears he can even feel your lips at his neck and arms holding him tight.

Your sounds are enough to keep him stroking, the way your voice pitched up with the sound of his name entwined, forever recorded in his brain. Your entire body tensed to the point of uncomfortable but it was impossible to stop abruptly when he sounded so lost in you. Your leg shakes and stiffens and it takes every inch of control to not become liquid and slip away into comforting bliss.

Eventually the sounds of heavy breathing slowly but surely settling are the only things the two of you can hear in your ears. There’s a mess, for you and for him. The understanding of things transpired crossing each of you two’s brains. Should you speak first? Should he?

“Um, you with me?” You settle, skin sweaty and mouth dry. There’s movement on the other line, a quiet cuss here and there and you smile. “Yeah, sorry just... made a mess” His voice has that sheepish tone and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Great thing about being a girl, we can conceal the evidence better” You stretch your aching legs enjoying each joint pop. “The female anatomy never seizes to amaze me, trust me” Donnie leans back in his chair, napkin cleaning any other soiled spot.

The silence was somewhat comfortable, the buzzing of good chemicals slowly settling.

“Was this okay?” He asked, hesitant tone in your ears.

“More than okay if you ask me” You kept it light not wanting him to feel odd or even ashamed.

You ventured on slowly, forming the question in your brain and bouncing it back and forward with a swallow. “If, and I mean if you want to, we can maybe do this from time to time” You worried a thumbnail between your teeth. Donnie’s gaze watching the idle screen of the abandoned game, he thought hard but briefly.

“I... yeah I would” He smiles to himself, even if the nagging thought that this might not last clutches the back of his mind. Why ruin a good thing? This was good more than good and you suggested to continue.

He doesn’t want to preoccupy his brain with scenarios, or if that dreaded ‘let’s meet’ sentence decides to cross your lips. If this is the inch of intimacy he gets to have and it’s with you, who he has grown so fond of, then he’s selfishly taking that inch and guarding it with his life.

Mutely you both remain on the line, no words spoken from the agreement, just simply enjoying that the two of you were present.

Even if not physically.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello x female reader #donnie tmnt #donatello tmnt #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #Donatello #Donnie #ns*w #oneshot

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tatertotthethot · 4 years

Text

The Doms Next Door 2.0

THIS IS A TEMPORARY REUPLOAD FOR THIS CHAPTER CUZ TUMBLR IS RAN BY A BUNCH OF BOTS. 2.1 HERE

Warnings/AN: frequent, casually cursing; comical, gay Jimin; insecure reader; steamy flirting; tattoo/sexualized Tae 🙃. Enjoy~ (TAEKOOK EDIT ABOVE IS ARTKOOK DONE BY NONCONMAN ON INSTAGRAM)

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Your tires came to a stop outside of the tattoo shop you've seen online— a brick building, covered in spray paint and street-style art. A sign buzzed over the awning of the entrance doors, with the built-in UV lights and graffiti-styled font displaying the name of the place in neon-red letters. Kink For Ink! The name alone was what first caught your attention last week, when you Googled "Tattoo shops near me" and it pulled up a list, with "Kink For Ink" being the first option. It just seemed so uncanny and fitting at the time, considering the previous run-in you just had with the sex-crazed neighbors a couple nights before. You couldn't help but to click the link to their Instagram.

A profile came up with 53.4k followers, which immediately blew your mind... but you quickly saw why. Every tattoo and piercing, no matter the body-placement, skin-type, or quirky design, was vividly appealing— certainly done by the articulate hands of certified experts. Even in the comments of the piercings that were posted, people were praising them for the "minimal" amount of pain they experienced, despite the fact that some of piercings were done in places you couldn't even fathom the thought of having a needle jammed through.

It said in the bio that the shop is owned by the two artists that work there— Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. You couldn't find out much about them, all their pictures showed was their work. You even went back to search for a personal account of their own, but nothing came up. You then went back to the bio and clicked a link to the official website, hoping to find out something, but you were met with a disclaimer rule at the top that automatically deemed your chances of even getting your piece done by them, slim-to-none.

• No walk-ins allowed.

• Every request/idea must be sent in through the DMs of our Instagram page. You will only be accepted only if it spikes our personal interests.

Yikes; You were instantly discouraged by this. The piece you wanted was something so common and cliché, that you actually got the image out of a child's coloring book.... It was the cartoon layout of the glass vase and enchanted rose, from the Beauty and the Beast movie. Cheesy, yes. But it was something of personal, nostalgic value. You remember when you were little— roughly around 3 or 4 years of age— when your parents started fighting and would spend all day screaming and throwing things at each other, putting you in a constant state of anxiety. But then you'd go to bed at night and pop the VHS tape, and the movie never failed to put you in a peaceful state of mind— a hopeful one. It's remained as your all-time favorite love story throughout the years. Which, is ironic, considering that the relationship itself was different, but almost as dysfunctional as your parent's. However, the fact that even the Beast was capable of change, and everything wound up so perfect and happy in the end, makes your heart happy. And even now, at age 19, it still puts you in your feelings. The previous remake of a movie is what actually inspired you to get the enchanted rose as a tattoo, after seeing it in 3D not too long ago. But you're only willing to shell out up to $200 for it, at most. You've just started college, and even though Jimin's parents own the house and let the two of you live there, rent free, you're still responsible for half the utility bills from month to month. Blowing every bit of money you have saved up, right at the start of the semester, would just be irresponsible. But $200 was manageable, and you're looking for anything that'll give you a little extra "oomph" to break you out of this introverted shell you've always known. Pushing it off would just delay it, and you were ready for change. The nose piercing you want is just a small little thing that'll hopefully add a bit of flare to the features of your face. These two guys could probably do the piercing/tattoo with a blindfold on and a hand tied behind their back. So, if it meant that you'd be able to get these things done in confidence, without having to worry about the outcome, you figured it wouldn't hurt for you to at least ask, even if they straight-up ignore you. So, after spending an unnecessary amount of time overthinking the wording of your text, you finally constructed a message in your notes and DM'd it to business page, after sending them a small, simple outline of the cartoony rose, and pressed send.

• You: Hello! I've been wanting to get this tattoo done for a very while now, and was hoping one of you will be willing to do it for me... along with piercing my nose? I know it's a very mediocre and cliché piece, and a nose piercing can be done anywhere. But I'm new to the area and I've never gotten a tattoo/piercing done before and I haven't really checked out any other places either because I found this page first. And from what I can see, you guys are pretty efficient and CRAZY talented. So, I trust it'll get done right.... only if you want to! I'm willing to pay $200 for this, but if it costs that much for just the outline I've sent then that's fine as well. But I understand if neither of you want to do it cuz that is really cheap compared to the ones I've seen lol. But either way, thx for ur time 😁

A few minutes went by and you had just unlocked your phone to check the message again, when the word "seen" popped below the message. You held your breath for a second— but seconds turned to minutes, and time went by with no reply, what-so-ever. You figured maybe you sounded a little too immature to take seriously; kind of like a prepubescent 12-year-old asking someone out for a dance... and you blew it. Which was disappointing, but predictable. So fuck it. Maybe it's a sign; you shouldn't get it after all.

11pm rolled around, many hours later. You were now hiding beneath your covers, beginning your "amateur threesome" exploration on PornHub. You were ready to see what this whole "2 guys, 1 girl" thing was all about. But just when you were about to type it into the search bar, you were interrupted by an Instagram notification dropping down from the top of your screen.

"KinkForInk sent you a message."

You audibly gasped, eyes turning to saucers as you clicked on the notif and switched over to the Instagram app.

• KinkForInk: Hi (Y/N). This is Tae, one of the artists of the shop. The tattoo you sent in is worth roughly $100... but I want to run an offer by you in hopes that you'll be interested.

— Your brows scrunched in oddity, stomach fluttering. An offer? For you?

• You: Okay, sure. What's that?

• KinkForInk: I've been looking for someone willing to showcase the custom design I've come up with, specifically for a much more... exclusive version of the Beauty and the Beast tattoo you sent. And if you'd be down for letting me and my partner put it on you, it'll be free. No charge. BUT you'll also have to sign a contract saying that you'll do a little bit of modeling for us once it's done. You think you'd be in to doing something like that, even if you get it?

— Your head spun for a second, reading the message over and over again until you could fully wrap your mind around what he was saying.

• You: Hold on... YOU wanna put a tattoo on ME so that I model for you? And it's FREE? Are you sure about this? I'm not even model material lol.

• KinkForInk: Yes, yes, and yes, you are. You'd be perfect for this.

• You: How do know that? Is it a face tattoo? Cuz I only have 6 selfies on here and you can't see anything past my shoulders.

—"Seen" came up as soon as you hit send, but a couple of minutes rolled by with no reply to the message, nor was he even typing. Maybe you came off a little rude. But it was already sketchy and it was a logical question.

— An image suddenly popped up: a screenshot of your Facebook profile. Then another— and much to your horror, it was the photo Jimin tagged you in last week, when the two of you were swimming at a local community pool. You were wearing a simple two piece, sitting at the foot of the lawn chair Jimin was also sitting in, as his legs were visible on either side of you and his lap was practically framing your ass. The photo was at an upward angle and looked so scandalous— but really, you had just asked Jimin to put sun screen on your back and he didn't want to stand up because the pavement was too hot against his bare feet. But you actually liked the picture at the time; it was just a silly joke and your ass actually looked quite nice from that angle. Plus, everyone knows nothing sexual actually goes on between the two of you, for obvious reasons. But Taehyung doesn't, so you couldn't help but dreadfully cringe when you saw the caption of the screen shot.

"Babymama 💦🍆"

• KinkForInk: Is this you??

• You: Yes, that's me. The caption is a joke tho... pay no mind to that. But this is like, really happening? You really think it'd look good on me?

— Why that picture though? You couldn't help but wonder.

• KinkForInk: Yes. Like I said, you're perfect for this piece. Are you down to at least see what the tattoo will look like? We don't expect you to be experienced with modeling or anything, but if you listen to us and cooperate, you'll do just fine.

• You: Yes I wanna see, and I'll do the best I can if I decide to get it... I'm just a bit shy, is all.

• KinkForInk: You'll be in good hands. I promise.

• You: Okay... are you going to show me??

• KinkForInk: Can't send it over a message, I don't want it plagiarized or the concept stolen. But the piece itself isn't necessarily crazy or anything, just more creative. I'd be more than happy to show you at my shop some day this week, if you'd be willing to swing by.

• You: Yeah, I can do that. When should I come?

• KinkForInk: Are you available after 5 tomorrow?

• You: I am, I get off at 4:30.

• KinkForInk: Great. Be here by 5:30, and make sure you've eaten in case you like the piece and wanna get started. It's pretty big for a first timer and gonna take a lot of time and patience. It'll have to be done in sessions but I hope you have a fair enough pain tolerance to at least get the outline of it done first.

— It can't be any worse than a bikini wax, you thought, shivering at the memory. That a story for another time. You decided on an alternative scenario.

• You: I give blood from time to time... but that's easy and doesn't really hurt that much. I think I can handle it though... maybe. I honestly don't know lol, I'm sorry 😣. But I can try my best. Can I ask where it's supposed to go?

• KinkForInk: That's okay, I'll work with you. It's supposed to go down the middle of your back. Starts between the center of your shoulder blades, and trails down the length of your spine to your lower lumbar. You'll see how it looks once we transfer a template on your back. But if you don't like it, there will be no hard feelings from my end. I can still do the tattoo you want if that's the case, free of charge just for your time.

• You: Oh no, you don't have to do that! I'd still pay!

• KinkForInk: Not if I don't accept your money. Trust me, I'm not worried about it. The nose piercing is gonna be $30 regardless, though. JK isn't so lenient.

• You: Of course. Will I have to take my shirt and bra off for the tattoo?

• KinkForInk: Yes, and for the pictures once it's done.

— Your mind blanked at that; thumbs froze over the keypad. He was typing again.

• KinkForInk: Don't let that discourage you. Again, you're in good hands. You can bring something to cover your chest. And the pics will be if your back as well.

• You: Okay, I can handle that. So 5:30 tomorrow?

• KinkForInk: Yes, please don't flake on us!

• You: Lol, I won't. I'll be there.

"They're gonna knock us the fuck out and sell our organs to the black market," Jimin declared. He had parked next to you outside of the shop, and was now sitting in the driver seat of his car with his door locked and windows all the way up, refusing to get out. You were standing right outside his door, still having to talk on the phone. "And is this Tae-guy an AllState representative or something?"

Jimin is petty. You wanted him here for moral support— which he's usually reliable for— but this time, he's just plain salty right and doing everything he can to remind you of that. Reason is, he's been begging you to get a matching tattoo with him ever since your 18th birthday, and you've always refused because of what he wanted to get.

Cupcakes. Jimin wanted to get matching cupcake tattoos... in honor of Cupcakke the legend. Sorry, but H E L L no.

You rolled your eyes, growing frustrated. He only has enough time to pop in and confirm that these two aren't gonna kill you, and then he's gotta head home to get ready for work. You were already supposed to be in there. It was 5:33pm, 3 minutes past the time.

"Jimin, you're the one that insisted on coming along! And now you're making me late!" you ranted. "I'm going in without you."

"Hold your horses, hoe! I'm finishing my blueberry slushie," He retorted, sassily bringing the straw to his mouth and loudly slurping it into the phone. He then abruptly flinched away from the straw with a disgusted expression, nostrils flared, body locking up; lips drawing into an air-tight knot that was so extreme and unnatural, it caused an ugly snort to break out of your nose.

He smacked his lips in exaggeration to the taste, face falling back into stone as an eyebrow arched over the top of his aviators; unamused and saltier than before... Like you were at fault for that, too.

"Or... Blueberry-ass, I should say."

That forced another giggle out of you as Jimin stiffly rolled his window down, phone still pressed to his ear and eyes still scowling at you behind the inspector shades. He bit down on the straw and withdrew it with his teeth before dumping the dark-blue contents of the drink out of the window, making it a point to shake the styrofoam cup empty of every drop before tossing it over his shoulder and into back seat. He then spat the straw out of his mouth with an audible "PLUUUUH!" of a French accent, and waited until the window rolled all the way up again, just so he could hang up the phone. You scoffed at this as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, scornfully watching Jimin exit the car and slam the door behind him. He snatched his glasses off his face as his cotton-candy hair swayed in the breeze, revealing his scornful eyes right back at you as he gestured for you to lead the way in exasperated manner— as if you were the one wasting his time now.

"Go on, lead us to the grave," He shooed, a snippy little shit. You sauntered away, walking up the side of the shop, then paused just before reaching the glass entrance door, when you remembered how much of a coward you are. You've never even stepped into a parlor before, and supposedly, this was a famous one. Which makes it more and more surreal when you think about it.

"Are we doing the mannequin challenge now? Is that what we're doing?" Jimin sardonically inquired.

"You go first, I'm nervous!" You whisper-hissed.

"You don't want me to go in there first— I'll show out," he reasoned, simply stating a fact.

"Please don't," you whined.

"Then, again, I'll show out?" He reiterated, as if to say duh. "How else am I supposed to break the ice? I look like Timmy Turner's Fairy-Gay- Parent."

You gave him a wary look... he's right. You sighed, slightly kicking your foot in distracted defeat. Fuck, you hated making an entrance to new places—

"Hold up— is that Drake?" Jimin suddenly blurted, holding his hand up to silence you. You honed in on the muffled track playing from behind the glass door, and Jimin's face soon light up like a Christmas tree before he spun around you, unstoppable.

"Jimin, NO—!"

"KIKI, DO YOU LOVE ME—?!"

It was already too late. The door was flying back behind him as he Milly-Rocked his way into the shop, leaving you no choice but the chase in behind him.

"—ARE YOU RIDING? SAY YOU'LL NEVA-EVA LEAVE FROM BESIDE ME— hello there."

You were panting, coming to a stop right behind Jimin, where you instantly latched on to the back of his shirt as you met the face of the man behind the studio counter. And, as corny as this is gonna sound: the world actually stilled for a solid beat... or maybe you were in the verge of cardiac arrest.

A pair of glossy-Black eyes looked up at the two of you; A series of silver-studded earrings trailed along the outer cartilages, peaking out beneath a head of soft, layer-swept hair. It was a Carmel-tinted blonde in color— thick and shaggy, and neatly spilling in waves around a headband that proudly sported a high-dollar brand-name you've never seen anyone wear in person before. G U C C I, it read— Meaning that the headband alone was probably worth more than some of your college text books, put together. It sat just a few inches above a pair of dark brows, that oddly brought out the shape of his cat-like eyes— irises like polished marbles. His ample lips had a sharp, well-defined Cupid's-bow, and a natural shade of pink that fit the porcelain appearance of his melanin-kissed complexion, to the finest degree.

And here you are, looking like an actual bum. You had just enough time to clock out of work and head straight over here to make it in time. You didn't even have any makeup on, and the only thing hiding your raggedy hair from those captivating eyes is your old baseball cap from high school. It took a second for him to take the bold presence that was Park Jimin— who was also frozen to the spot as he openly checked the guy out. He was hunched over the counter, a v-neck hoodie covering the rest of him with a thin, loose-fitting material. It was Black and allowed a full visual of his tan neck, and prominent collar bones. And it certainly didn't hide the fact that he had a pair of wide-set shoulders, either. A pencil sat in his hand— one that was laced with masculine veins, and lot of decorative ink. There was a silver ring on his thumb.. and a very heavy-looking Rolex watch.

The man cracked a grin at Jimin— a boxy one that dimpled in at the corners.

"Love the hair," he humorously began, twisting a quirky eyebrow at Jimin. You subconsciously snagged the bill of your hat as your eyes went a little wide at how mature the man's voice was.

"Love the watch," Jimin retorted, then reached around and gripped you by the wrist before pulling you into full view beside him. "You wouldn't happen to be Taehyung...?"

"Mhm," the man hummed, absentmindedly moving his wrist at the mention of his watch. His eyes cut over to you, and you swore you could see a minuscule reflection of yourself in his eyes, before they flashed back at Jimin and blinked. "You must be the babydaddy?"

Blood rushes to your ears. It's really him... a guy who looks like a high-dollar model himself, asking you to be his canvas model. Your own conscious didn't even know what to say right now. So you stayed quiet and still as Jimin took charge... which was a mistake.

"She wishes, but no. I'm the best-friend— and a gay one, at that," Jimin replied, and you knew he did that for his benefit. Thot. "I'm just here to make sure you're not gonna sacrifice her to Satan, or anything of that nature. I need her around in case I ever forget the Netflix password."

Taehyung chuckled at that, mouth opening to reveal a row of teeth shinier than Chip Skylark's. But then, you caught something behind his teeth that caused your gut to leap. A silver ball... a tongue ring. Your thoughts clouded over for a second.

"Well, I can assure you, she's safe with me," he said, looking over at you again. You blinked, nothing more. His brow arched at your lack of response, but this time, it was done more handsomely as he was still smirking at you. "Still, you don't look too thrilled to be here... You sure you wanna do this?"

"She's just nervous because you're really fucking hot," Jimin announced, unyielding. "You should feel how sweaty her hand is."

"Don't listen to him— I'm gay too," You lied in panic, trying to defend yourself from the absolute truth Jimin spoke just then. You snatched your hand away from him and jutted a finger at the door, eyes beading and lid twitching as your nerves ran amuck. "Goodbye, Jimin."

"She's a lonesome hetero," Jimin told Taehyung, assuring him with a face that showed no bluff. "One look at her camera roll, and you'd see for yourself—" You were yanking him away by the arm now, in a tug-of-war game that Jimin obviously could've won if he really wanted to. But he figured you suffered enough and eventually let you drag him out of the shop, waving bye to Taehyung before turning to look at you with beading eyes.

"I think he wants to fuck you— text me as soon as you can," Jimin uttered with unmoving lips as before he walked to his car. You stopped for a second, noticing he was actually being serious. How could he possibly think that he wants to fuck you, just from that small encounter? And what is the odd sensation currently coiling in your stomach? Things grew awkward again when you re-entered the shop, coming to a stand at the same spot... only alone now. He was still amused, it seemed. And so calm and cool despite this odd, intense look in his eyes. It gave him a Casanova effect, where all he had to do was give you that look and it'd instantly make you blush.

"He seems like a fun person to be around," he noted, somewhat honestly, but more so making fun of the red-hot appearance of your face.

"He's a pain in the ass," you muttered, trying to conjure up a smirk but hardly even able to speak properly from how dry your mouth was. It felt like there was a white-hot iron expanding in your throat. "I'm really sorry about him."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're here— thought you'd chicken out." You nervously wiped your clammy palms over the back pockets of your jeans as Taehyung got up from the barstool behind the counter and approached you on the other side of it, a whole head-and-a-half taller than you. He was wearing black cardigan jeans and matching combat boots.. his headband and jewelry the only thing not black on him. And oddly enough, he made it look fucking fantastic.

"Mh-mm," You hummed, not trusting your voice. You've never needed a sip of water so bad in your life— he even smelled expensive.

"Well, It's very nice to meet you," he formerly began, and you mustered up the normality of placing your (dried) hand into his much larger one, as he held his out to you in greeting. And boy, was he close. So close that the heels of your spine itches to lean back from the proximity.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I'm really sorry if I'm acting weird. I'm just nervous." — Your mind struggled to stay focused on your words, arm tensing at the skin-to-skin contact. You were extra-effected by the firmness in his grip. You really wanted to look down at all the bold ink you saw dashing across the veiny surface of his tanned hand, or see if those were images or scripted letters on the knuckles of lengthy fingers... But you were held captive by those God-blessed eyes... And that fucking tongue ring. It was infecting your head in ways that weren't necessarily healthy for your current state of mind, as you saw it peering in and out at certain words.

"And physically shaking," Taehyung pointed out, brows twitching down at your trembling hand in his as if he was concerned for it. But his smirk gave off an odd sense of fascination to the involuntary symptom, like it was cute or something? Hm. He glanced back up at you, causing your dehydrated throat to bob as his other hand came to clasp over the rest of yours, swallowing it completely from the wrist down. "Intimidated?"

"V-Very," you spluttered, a small slither of saliva copulating down your throat as you looked back up at him. He absentmindedly rolled his tongue ring over the button row of his teeth as he watched you with tainted eyes— undoubtably getting cocky with that damn grin of his and proudly teasing you about your reaction to him. It gratified the effortless sex-appeal he had. You were even beginning to imagine that tongue ring elsewhere, and you literally just met him. Then, as you felt the band of a ring move along with the pad of his thumb as gently ran it across your trembly knuckles, chills shot up all the way to your shoulder. Oh... oh wow. You glanced down at his knuckles on reflex this time, and saw a four-letter word scripted in black ink across the bottom row of his knuckles, and another word scripted on the middle section of his fingers. A silver band on his naked thumb. STAY TRUE, it said.

"And why's that?"

"I.. feel like you're a celebrity," you sheepishly admitted, your other hand wedging into your back pocket as you had to stop yourself from reaching for the bill of your hat again. Is he flirting? The words seem too innocent for the way he was making you feel. It was getting so hot in the oven of his massive palms, and he wasn't even squeezing you hard enough to cut off any circulation, but yet your fingers were beginning to tingle.

"Mm, no. Just a little popular, really," he granted, teetering his head a little as he pondered the thought. You could see his vocal chords contract in his sleek neck as they project his smooth, pungent voice. "You still trust me?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. He'd gotten even closer, to where his hand had gone into a prayer stance around yours. You were aware of how wide your eyes had gone from the awe you... you knew this was just the beginning. He was going to be very handsy throughout this whole process. But in a very twisted way, you were more than okay with that. Even if it meant you were at risk of fainting from actual dehydration. Maybe you were in over your head. But you couldn't will yourself away from this now. And then, just as a wide, heart-stopping smile edged out on that mind-numbingly handsome face, the door at that back of the room swung open, and heavy-metal rock blasted through the quiet vibe of the scenery and caused you to jump a little at the disturbance. Taehyung shot a wicked smile over his shoulder, and his next words nearly knocked you out right then and there as you beheld yet another, breathtaking sight.

"Oh, there you are," Tae eagerly acknowledged, one hand still holding yours as he walked around to grab your with the other, presenting you to the.. hulking presence in the room. "This is (Y/N), our next little experiment."

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2jaeh · 3 years

Text

milky way | youngtaek

you find unexplainable comfort in the words of your favorite poet, but he has a deeper connection to you than you think.

genre: fluff, a little angst

word count: 1.4k

author lin

Your favorite part of the day was curling up on the couch with a hot beverage, scrolling through your phone and having the television on low, offering great background noise so the apartment felt less empty. When the clock struck 7pm you knew you would be receiving that notification from the one person on Instagram that you cared enough to keep up with.

They were a poet who went by the name April and they were quite popular on the social media platform, despite never revealing any information about themself save for what deep feelings were incorporated into their poems. You found a great sense of comfort in their work and you were always anticipating to read their poems.

That day, April had revealed a poem titled 'Milky Way'. The post contained a plain white canvas with the words scribbled in black ink on the left side and a relevant drawing on the right - the standard format for all of their works. For this particular poem, the drawing was of a shooting star with a tiny person looking up towards it.

The poem described a relationship between two people that was so dazzlingly perfect that everyone around them was envious of how perfectly they were made for each other. Alas life moved to a point where the narrator could barely contact their lover and they slowly drifted out of each other's lives. The narrator still had lingering feelings for that person and could never truly move on. The final words of the poem read, Nothing without you, nothing without you…

April's poems always hit close to home and prompted you to think about your own life and experiences, but Milky Way in particular felt as though you yourself was the narrator in question. A few years ago you had also been in a relationship that was so full of bliss. The boy was named Youngtaek and you always joked about how he set a standard for any other guy you would ever meet, but it was true.

He was an aspiring songwriter and rapper and often wrote songs about you. He was someone that you could tell anything to and he would never judge. He always showered you with compliments that helped you find confidence in yourself. He encouraged you to try new things and a lot of milestones in your life involved him. Your first kiss, your first time and even your first experience getting chased out of a movie theater because he screamed too loud at the horror movie onscreen.

People who claimed the honeymoon phase didn't last forever clearly did not see the three years the two of you spent together. However, all good things must come to an end. Youngtaek left for Japan to further his studies while you stayed behind. You stayed in good contact for a long time, until you both started to live your own lives with different friends, different timezones, different lifestyles. It was a mutual decision to just end the relationship and move on, but your feelings for him could never disappear that easily.

Since the poem had tapped into an integral part of your mind, you decided to leave a comment. You never did leave comments on April's work - it was quite pointless considering they were so popular and your comment would just disappear into the swarm of others - but you were running on sentimentality at that point.

@______: Thank you for this, I wonder if the lover will ever know the impact they had on the narrator…

You left your phone aside and turned the television volume up to watch whatever game show was going on. Despite your eyes being on the screen, your thoughts were still filled with Youngtaek and the poem. The only thing that was able to snap you out of your own world was a chime from your phone. You grabbed your phone and opened up the notification.

@aprilpoetry: @______ I think they do now…

Your eyes widened at the comment before contorting into a confused frown. First of all, April didn't reply to their fans often so the interaction did catch you by surprise. Second of all, what did they mean by that? The message was so short and vague, but you didn't want to read too much into it. April was notorious for trolling and pranking their followers so you shrugged it off.

Your notifications were flooded with people liking and leaving congratulatory words on your comment. It was so overwhelming that you almost missed a direct message notification you had received. You opened the message up and you couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped your lips upon seeing it was from April.

@aprilpoetry: As you know, I will be releasing my first book this Friday. We'll be having a small party to celebrate and I'm looking to invite some interesting fans to join us. Would you be interested?

@______: Me?

@aprilpoetry: Of course. Your comment piqued my interest.

@______: My comment?

April was typing for a long time and you didn't know why you were becoming nervous. You couldn't even believe this conversation was happening. Your phone pinged and you looked down to see details as to when and where the party was being held.

@aprilpoetry: I hope to see you there

+++++

After days of deliberation, you finally settled on just going to the party. The interaction with April was quite strange and your curiosity really got the better of you. You arrived at the venue - a sleek dining hall decorated in black and white and adorned in pictures of the art that usually featured alongside April's poems.

You floated around the room, taking the drink that a server offered you and inspecting the snack table for anything you might like. Everyone else was already engrossed in their own conversations, presumably about April's poetry. You felt somebody stand next to you, but your eyes stayed fixated on the pink drink in your hands.

"The mini pizzas are really good." The person next to you spoke and you almost shuddered at the familiarity of their voice.

You looked up to see Youngtaek smiling down at you. He was wearing black turtleneck with a black blazer thrown over his shoulders. He looked older and much more mature than from when you last saw him. His hair was dyed bright red and his ears were adorned with pretty piercings. He still had the same sparkly eyes that you had adored so much.

"What are you doing here?" You asked in a small voice and he chuckled lightly.

"It's been a while hasn't it?" Youngtaek ran his fingers through his hair with a sheepish grin on his face, "well actually, we've been closer than we think."

"What do yo-"

"I'm April, ______," he cut you off and your eyes widened comically, making him laugh, "when I saw you comment on my post I couldn't believe it was really you.

"I actually refused to believe it was, so I invited you here to find out," he let out a nervous sigh, "I'm… I'm really glad you're here and you read that poem."

"I've read all of your poems," you admitted and now it was his turn to look surprised, "I've always followed your account and I… really love your work… Milky Way just hit very close to home."

"I missed you, every day," Youngtaek admitted, stepping closer to you, "every time I'd think I moved on from us but then you'd cloud my thoughts all the time, just like what I said in Milky Way."

"I missed you too," you smiled at him when you saw his eyes light up, "I guess it's fate that we found each other again."

Youngtaek grinned at your words before leaning closer and placing his lips on yours. It felt so familiar, the feeling of kissing him while soft music sounded from the speakers, yet butterflies still fluttered in your tummy. His hands came up to cup your face as you gently held onto his wrists. He pulled away just a few centimeters away to admire your flustered face as his cherry lips curled into a smile.

"So are we doing this again?" You laughed lightly.

"Only if you want to ______." Youngtaek grinned, softly running his hands down your arms.

"Of course April Poetry."

#youngtaek #son youngtaek #golden child #golden child imagines #golden child scenarios #golden child fluff #golcha #golcha angst #golcha scenarios #golcha imagines #gncd #gncd imagines #golden child x reader #golcha fluff #golden child youngtaek #golden child tag

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skrltwtch · 3 years

Text

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine #fun fact #I wrote this story in early october last year #and it's kind of truth in television for me now

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angryschnauzer · 4 years

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In Another World

Summary: In another world, it was Jensen that got the role of Captain America, not Chris. You have dreamed of meeting Jensen ever since you saw him in his CGI glory in The First Avenger, and your comicon experience you discover to be underwhelming. But then you meet a cosplayer in the bar... and life takes an altogether different turn for you.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Comicon, Comic Convention, Strangers at a Bar, Cosplay, Captain America Cosplay, Unprotected Sex, Hotel Room Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Blow Job, Anal Play.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader (no race specified)

The above Jensen manip i cannot trace, it was sent to me years ago by a now deactivated tumblr user, with the signature half chopped off. Its the artwork that inspired this fic. In case you weren’t aware, Jensen auditioned for the role of Captain America but it of course went to Chris.

I do not operate a tag list, but feel free to go ahead and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified when i post a new story. Oneshots will be posted on Tumblr and AO3, Multichapter stories will be AO3 exclusives.

Due to the amount of stories i have written over the years i no longer have a masterlist, instead please check out my AO3 HERE.

In Another World

You sat at your computer, staring at the screen as you streamed the latest press junket. Marvel was going all out with its ten-year plan for The Avengers and with this press tour for The Winter Soldier you had fallen in love even more with Cap.

As the images streamed live from the far east, you watched as Jensen flexed his muscles and his co-stars laughed in admiration. He was born to be Captain America.

But you weren’t the only one watching.

In a small apartment in Boston another pair of eyes watched with an added level of sadness. He remembered the audition. Standing in the hallway with a bunch of other guys, all in their 20’s, all having a few bit-part roles under their belts in teen TV shows or low budget horror movies. The same green eyes that stared out of the screen had looked at him in the hallway, holding his hand out to shake;

“Hey man. Jensen”

“Chris”

Jensen smiled;

“Strong Boston accent there dude”

Chris chuckled;

“Say the same about you, what’s that Houston?”

“Dallas”

“Eh, close enough”

They chatted for a while as the guys ahead of them in the line entered the room, only to leave 5 minutes later. They didn’t look up at the guys left, no-one wanted to read expressions to give themselves fake hope. The door opened and the annoying droll voice of the elderly secretary called out;

“Ackles”

Chris looked up, holding his hand out to his new acquaintance;

“Break a leg man”

Shaking it briefly Jensen nodded;

“Thanks man”

You clung to your priority tickets, the excitement so intense you weren’t sure if you were going to puke or cry. You hoped for neither. It was your first convention and you had maxed out your credit card and called in sick from work when the special edition tickets had been released, refreshing your computer every ten seconds so that when they had been released online you had made your purchase within 30 seconds.

Now standing towards the front of the queue you were terrified. You had loved Jensen from the first moment you’d seen him in all his CGI glory in The First Avenger. You’d followed his career and had even gone back and watched his entire back catalogue. He was a natural for the role and the stealth suit from the most recent movie had made him look so handsome you had actually swooned when you had seen those first opening scenes of the movie aboard the Lumerian Star.

The con volunteers were doing an amazing job, herding the fans into some form of order, and as you got closer you could hear the laughter and squeals of joy as fans ahead of you were rapidly shown in.

It was your turn. The flimsy black curtain was pulled aside, and you were pushed into the brightness of the well-lit area that was surrounded on all sides by vivid blue panels that bore the con’s logo. Jensen turned and smiled, putting his hand out and you found you were standing next to him. Your head swam;

“Do you have a pose?”

“Umm…” You could see the con workers and volunteers moving their arms in a ‘hurry up’ motion; “I guess… a hug?”

“Sure thing”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pointed towards the bored looking photographer;

“Smile sweetie”

You did. You smiled, your saw blobs as the flash blinded you. You didn’t even register as Jensen pressed his hand to your back, thanking you before turning to the next person who had already been pulled through the black curtain. A volunteer took your wrist and pulled you gently through the curtain on the far side, giving you your photo number as they apologised it was so fast.

The curtain closed and you stood there, blinking as you tried to focus on the small piece of paper you held. It was done. Over. You’d met Jensen and it had been so rushed you hadn’t even had chance to look at him.

The bile started to rise, you looked around and saw a trash can, leaning over it and vomited into the piles of used coffee cups and candy wrappers.

The hunt for a bottle of water at a con hadn’t been something you would think would take so long; a lot of the vendors had already sold out, others the line was so long it would have taken you longer to get the water than the queue for the con in the first place. It seemed as if everyone was walking against you, or you were going against the flow of them, but when you finally got your water you drained the entire bottle, soothing your bile parched throat. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you heard an announcement over the PA system;

“We apologise, but the Jensen Ackles panel won’t be broadcast out of the auditorium due to technical issues”

“WHAT?” you grabbed your wrist, looking at your watch as your eyes went wide. You’d been so dazed by your photo op and feeling ill afterwards you had forgotten about the panel. You needed a drink, and something stronger than water.

Chris adjusted the helmet of his costume as he looked in the mirror. The men’s room was quiet, the main panel of the con was on and he couldn’t bring himself to sit in the same room as the guy that had won the role that had made him millions; of fans and dollars.

After not getting the Captain America role Chris had continued to take bit parts and small independent movies. He was recognised occasionally but he hadn’t hit the big time. In fact there were months when there was nothing coming in and it was only after someone had asked him to fill in at a kids party where one of the superhero guys had fallen sick at the last minute did the idea of cosplaying come to him. Now however he was well known in cosplay circles, even getting paid for some appearances. He was called a natural for the role, but that was the hardest to hear. He’d worked hard with his costumer and within just a few weeks of the latest movie coming out they’d successfully recreated the amazing Stealth Suit in its darker colours.

Checking his pants for his wallet he decided he needed a drink, and something stronger than a soda.

Nodding to the bartender, you thanked him as he set the beer down in front of you before he went to the far end of the bar to pull the latest load of glasses out of the dishwasher. You sat picking at the label and tracing patterns in the condensation that gathered on the cool glass. You were vaguely aware of other people coming and going, and when the barstool next to you was taken you didn’t look up.

“What’ll it be Cap?”

The bartender’s greeting drew your attention from your drink, casting your gaze to your side and your breath was sucked from your body. You watched as the man set his helmet onto the surface of the bar before nodding to what you were drinking;

“Same as the lady please”

Your eyes travelled from where his hand sat on the countertop of the bar up the dark sleeve of his stealth suit, taking in his wide shoulders and up to the fluffy dark blonde hair, slightly messed up from where he’d been wearing the helmet. You couldn’t help it, but you were staring. Your jaw was hanging low as he turned slowly to you, his blue eyes sparkling with just the faintest hint of green as he looked at you and a self-conscious smile tugged at the corner of his mouth;

“Hi…”

“You’re… you’re…”

“No, just cosplaying…” he turned back to his beer for a moment until you finally found your voice

“No. You’re Chris”

He set his beer on the countertop and turned to you, this time a genuine smile on his face;

“Do we know each other?”

“Well…” you blushed; “We spoke on Instagram” He cocked an eyebrow, but his attention didn’t waiver from you as you continued; “You’re ‘AlmostCap’, right? You posted about wanting advice on how to dye leather boots a deeper colour? I messaged you with the details of the dyes costumiers use”

His face broke into a wide smile;

“Oh yeah, that really worked! How did you know that?”

“Majored in theatre design at college”

“Well that titbit of knowledge brought the whole costume together” he motioned to his stealth suit and you couldn’t help but to look him up and down; “Without you I wouldn’t look this good”

You snorted back a laugh;

“I’m sure you look just a good without the suit”

Bringing your beer to your lips you took a sip, not realising Chris had moved closer until his lips brushed against your ear;

“Would you like to find out?”

The hotel room door crashed against the wall, the metal doorknob leaving a dent in the drywall. Chris had you pressed up against it, one hand holding you flush with his chest as his other hand blindly reached out for the door to close it. As soon as his fingertips grasped the cool wood he threw it shut with a thud that reverberated through the room.

Your hands clawed at Chris’s costume, desperate to find purchase, something, anything to hang onto and anchor yourself as he kissed you so hard you saw spangled stars. He’d put his costume helmet back on for the rather quick walk through the convention to the hotel where you were staying. His lips traced patterns over your cheek before he pressed kisses down your neck, whispering as he went;

“I don’t normally do this…”

“Me neither…

“...especially in costume…”

“Oh Chris…Cap…”

“It’s Captain tonight, Princess”

His fingers had found their way to the buttons on the front of your dress, skilfully plucking each one from its grasp on the thin cotton fabric, before his still gloved hand roughly cupped your breasts. As his lips found yours again, he groaned into your mouth as he weighed your breasts in his large hands, the rough leather against the lace of your bra sending chills through you. If Chris had a Captain kink you weren’t about to say no, hell, it would be one of your biggest fantasies.

You found yourself being manhandled towards the bed, Chris’s kisses hard and ravenous, and when he wasn’t kissing you his tongue was doing the most devilish things on your skin. The bed touched the back of your knees and you were falling back onto the covers, Chris following seconds later as he pressed you into the mattress. With a thick thigh he pushed your legs apart, the rough Kevlar fabric of his suit brushing against the delicate skin of your soft skin as his fingers sought out the juncture of thighs. The brush of the harsh leather of his fingerless gloves made you groan into his mouth as he tugged your panties to the side and his thumb found your clit. Rubbing small circles, he teased it from its hood, before his fingers slid through your folds to ease some of your slick moisture from you to smooth his efforts.

When his lips left yours you chased after them, but his voice made you settle back against the bed and open your eyes;

“Uh-uh… stay there Princess”

You watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth, before his kiss bruised lips closed around his glistening digits and he moaned as he tasted you;

“You taste amazing”

“Umm… thank you?”

“Here…”

He brought his hand to your mouth and you grasped it as you sucked gently on just the fingertips, watching as Chris’s already lust blown pupils widened even further;

“Jesus fucking Christ, your tongue…”

Letting go of his fingers with an audible pop, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, resting on one arm as you slid a hand between your bodies and palmed his erection through his suit;

“What about my tongue?” you grinned before you tugged him down to lay beside you.

Pushing up onto your knees you ran your hand down his chest and stomach, the costume warm from his body heat and firm to the touch. Your fingers clawed at his suit to try and find the zipper, and after thirty seconds of searching you let out a huff;

“Ok, how the fuck to I get in here?”

With a low chuckle Chris reached down and lifted a hidden Velcro flap that revealed the button and the top of the zipper, and you eagerly tugged the pants of his suit open. The large bulge in his boxers immediately filled the space of the open zipper, and you found yourself nuzzling against the hardness that the soft jersey fabric could hardly contain. Pressing open mouthed kisses to the hard shaft through the fabric, you felt Chris’s hands on your head, he wasn’t pushing but you could tell he wanted you. With a smile you just about tugged his boxers down enough to free his cock, the thick shaft standing proud from the fly of his stealth suit. You wrapped your hands around it, the flesh hot to touch and pumped him slowly.

“Ah fuck Princess…”

“Yes Captain?”

“Please…”

He sounded wrecked, and as you leant forwards and licked at the bead of clear precum that was pooling at the tip you not only heard but felt the low rumble of his moan of appreciation. Wrapping your lips around the tip you started to suck, your tongue working over the hot smooth flesh as your fist worked up and down, pumping him slowly as you let the saliva pool in your mouth so you could take him deeper. In a moment when you pulled off to take a breath Chris’s hands were suddenly on your hips, moving you until you were kneeling on the bed and straddling his shoulders, and for a moment you squealed where his sudden strength had moved you with such ease.

“Gotta taste you…” he muttered from beneath the skirt of your dress, his hands smoothing over the globes of your ass and you could feel his breath hot on your skin. His fingers tugged your panties to the side and he was pulling you down onto his mouth, his tongue swiping through your soaked folds.

For a moment you lost yourself, Chris’s efforts driving you closer to orgasm than you thought was possible, but you found your senses and leant forwards again, taking him as deep as you could and you felt his moan deep in your cunt as he almost came on the spot. Working your fingers into his suit you cupped his balls, feeling them tight and hot in your hand as you sucked hard on his cock. At the same time you felt Chris drive his tongue into your soaked hole and his thumb sought out your clit. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, and you could feel your legs start to shake. The harder he drove forwards the deeper you took him into your mouth. You heard a muffled cry from between your thighs and you felt that first tremble of the thick vein that ran the length of his cock. At the same time you felt his fingers dance over the crack of your ass, one finger pressing lightly against your dark rose and you were cumming over his face as he pumped thick ropes of cum down your throat.

When your legs were about to give out you tactfully rolled to the side, laying on the bed next to Chris as he fought to catch his breath. With laboured efforts he wrenched his helmet off, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he started to fumble with his costume;

“Gotta get out of this…”

Watching a hot guy strip was not something you’d experienced before, and a hot guy dressed as Captain America? Well that was hitting all your buttons in one go. You smiled as Chris was muttering to himself;

“Fuckin’ suit, so fuckin’ hot… fuckin’ drenched in sweat…”

When he was down to just his pants you finally spoke up;

“Need a hand there Captain?”

Chris looked up and grinned;

“You mind if I use your shower?”

“Sure thing, it’s all yours…”

Chris started for the small bathroom door, his utility pants hanging low on his hips before he paused and turned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth;

“Wanna join me?”

Showering with a guy you had literally just met was a surreal experience. The comfort and security of being partially clothed during a hook-up was completely stripped from you as you stood in the small shower enclosure the hotel room offered. Chris had looked absolutely sinful as he had stood beneath the cascading water; his skin patterned with multiple tattoos and just the right amount of chest hair that made you want to run your fingers through it as the hot water coursed over his body. Your fingers had trailed down over his hard stomach, tracing the trail of hair that led to his thick cock hanging heavy between his muscled thighs.

His lips had met yours eagerly again, and he soon had you pressed against the wall, his leg wedged between your thighs as you ground yourself against the firm muscle. Chris’s hands found your ass and eagerly pulled you hard against him, trapping his now angry cock between your bodies;

“Fuck… you’re so fuckin’ sexy” he muttered against your ear, his fingers digging into your asscheeks; “You gonna cum for me Princess? Soak my thigh?”

“Yes Chris, please…”

“What do you need Princess?”

“Something…. Just more…”

He pulled back from you, searching your expression for something, anything as he chose his words;

“I can give you more…” The depth of tone sent a shudder down your spine; “I’m gonna ask you this and you can say no, and I won’t walk out that door if you say no, but do you like ass play?”

You growled. You god-damn growled like a feral wildcat, nodding eagerly;

“Yes Chris… fuck, yes…”

He captured your lips for another fierce kiss as his hands slid over your ass and one finger trailed up the seam of your cheeks before pressing gently against your rear;

“Now Princess” he muttered against your lips; “I haven’t got any lube in here so it’ll just be a gentle press, you tell me if you want me to stop”

You nodded, biting your lip as he pushed forwards, one hand gripping your hip as he slid you up and down his soaked thigh, the other pressing gently but insistently against your back door.

Just that stimulation alone was enough, and you were cumming hard, your head pressed against the cool tiles as Chris sucked a hickey into your neck.

You stood there panting as you tried to regain your composure, Chris holding you tight in his arms as he gently caressed you as you finally came to your senses. Nuzzling against his neck you felt him push his hips forward, his thick cock hard again against your hip;

“Ready for another round?”

“Anything for you Cap” you grinned.

The pair of you had fallen back onto the bed, half dry and oblivious to anything other than pleasure. Body heat rising, you felt your back naturally arch as Chris lay on top of you, pulling his knee up to part your legs further and you could feel his thick length laying hot and hard against your soaked folds. As his other leg pushed up and parted your thighs even further, you felt that first nudge of his tip at your soaked entrance, your legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his waist and with one firm squeeze you felt his breach your body and slide into you.

The base noise that escaped your throat as you felt each glorious inch stretch your velvet walls was music to Chris’s ears, and he let you take the lead even though he was the one on top, letting your body grow accustomed to his size. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke softly;

“You’re doing so good Princess, feel so fuckin’ amazing, takin’ me so deep”

You slowly relaxed your thighs grip on his waist and Chris started to move, sliding his hips back as he slid out, before pushing slowly back in. Propping himself up either side of you, you watched as his arms bulged as he looked down and watched as he pulled out again, your wetness liberally coating him.

With his tip just notched inside you whined at the loss, before with a powerful thrust he filled you completely;

“Holy FUCK!”

“Do you like that Princess? Like my thick dick splitting you open?”

“Fuck Chris, yes, do it again… please!” you whined.

The gorgeous man above you grinned down, seemingly turned on by your begging, and with a loud grunt he started to pile drive into you, his impressive girth stretching you in all the right ways, the slight upward curve to his shaft making your g-spot his number one target with every push. The man was a demon in bed, fucking you hard as he pressed kisses to your chest and breasts, all whilst uttering the dirtiest things about how good you felt, how well you were taking his dick. You begged for more and he eagerly gave it, fucking you through one orgasm before chasing another. His thrusts started to get sloppy, his hips stuttering and he cursed quietly under his breath;

“Fuck… I’m gonna cum soon…”

“Cum inside me… I’m on the pill…”

He pushed a hand between your bodies, rubbing hard circles against your clit and soon you were coming, your orgasm triggering his, and you as your body milked the cum from his body you both felt like you had found heaven.

With a grunt Chris rolled to your side, his dick sliding out of your soaked channel and he lay on the bed, his head propped up on one elbow, his dick full and swollen at your hip, still shining with your combined fluids. Your body trembled with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, and you practically purred when Chris gently ran his fingertips over your breasts;

“That was fuckin’ amazing… I’m probably going about this the wrong way, but can I buy you dinner?”

“That’d be nice”

Dinner had been a fun affair; you had redressed, and Chris had worn his stealth suit pants but just wore the thin Under Armour undershirt instead of the full suit. Although the hotel was well used to people in cosplay costumes during the conventions using their facilities, Chris didn’t want to draw attention to himself, instead he wanted his sole attention to be able to be on you rather than people asking for photos. Throughout your meal the conversation had been fun and light, Chris telling you how he had in fact auditioned for the Marvel role but didn’t envy the craziness that came with the now worldwide recognition that Jensen had to put up with. You had explained how you now worked for a theatrical costumer’s agency on the West Coast, but had heard about some openings for a new series production out of Vancouver.

Chris laughed softly;

“Typical… I fall for a girl that lives on the opposite side of the country”

“You… you’ve fallen for me?”

Chris paused, resting his hand over yours;

“I’m sorry, I’m kinda sappy when it comes to relationships… and I gotta be honest, when I saw you at the bar, I recognised you from your Instagram and when you helped me… I was trying to play it cool…” he took a deep breath; “I hope I’m not scaring you off…”

Leaning forward you pressed a kiss to his cheek;

“No… it’s nice… its more than nice…”

Once the meal was over the pair of you stood in the foyer, unsure what to do before Chris pointed out the rest of his costume was in your room.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

“I was meant to be crashing on a friends couch”

Grinning you pulled him close;

“Did you want a bed rather than a couch?”

“Fuck yes”

Minutes later you were crashing in the door to your room, Chris’s hands and lips trying to cover every inch of your body, and this time with the knowledge of how his costume worked you knew exactly how to get his pants open, tugging them to the floor as you pushed him into one of the chairs and knelt at his booted feet. With his dick in your mouth he was soon hard again, but that was when he took control, standing and moving you until you were knelt on the soft chair arms looking out of the high rise window over the convention center and city below, the lights of the city oblivious as he flipped your skirt up and pulled your panties down, and filled you with one smooth thrust;

“Fuck… this pussy is fuckin’ perfect, you feel like heaven…”

Wrapping his strong arms around you he pulled you flush with his hard chest, sucking at your neck as his dick rubbed so beautifully against your g-spot you were coming again, screaming out your release as Chris pulled out and lifted you, pulling you to your feet before you found yourself pressed against the wall and he filled you again.

Clinging to his wide shoulders you felt him filling you over and over, your pleasure climbing higher than you ever thought possible. Chris’s strong arms were holding you up, his large hands gripping your ass as he fucked you into the wall, your legs wrapped around his narrow waist;

“Chris, I’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, cum for me, let me feel that pussy milking me as I fill you up… you feel so good, I’m never letting this pussy go…”

As you came so did he, your walls squeezing him so tight he thought he may pass out from the sheer pleasure. For the longest time he just held you there, your bodies joined until Chris’s dick softened enough to slip out of you. Letting your feet fall to the ground you kissed as you made your way to the bed, falling onto the mattress before wrapping the covers around your flushed bodies, falling asleep soon after.

The sound of a phone ringing pulled you from sleep, the warm body next to you grumbling at the sound before it rapidly jumped out of bed;

“Fuck, that’s my phone”

Through bleary eyes you watched Chris’s naked ass as he rummaged through the piles of clothing on the floor, finding his phone and answering it just in time;

“Yeah… uh-huh… for real?! Yeah absolutely! Send me the details, I’ll be there!”

You watched as he listened a little longer before ending the call, turning to you and he had the biggest smile on his face;

“I might have gotten a part!”

“Really? That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, they want me to do some screen tests with a possible co-star, see if there’s chemistry”

Jumping out of bed you ran and hugged him, kissing him deeply as he carried you back to the bed;

“I feel like celebrating… how about breakfast in bed?”

“Ok, I’ll call room serv… oh…”

Chris was pushing your legs apart and kissing up your inner thigh, and that’s when you realised he was talking about a different kind of breakfast in bed. As you lay back and enjoyed the magic he could perform with his tongue, you blissed out from pleasure.

Three Weeks Later

Chris finished the last scene, the director calling cut and he grinned as he looked at his castmates. None of them could quite believe how they were there, standing in a cold and rainy British Columbia small town, with writers and directors that had been trying to get their series picked up for years.

The rest of the cast of ‘Supernatural’ was a small ensemble, and having been given the role of the older brother; Dean Winchester, Chris felt at home with the role and had been given he contract straight after his screen test with his on screen brother Sam. Laughing with the actor that played Sam - a native New Yorker by the name of Sebastian - the two of them had immediately clicked and their friendship and on screen chemistry shone through the camera.

“Hey Evans, Stan!”

The sound of the producer’s voice caught Chris’s attention;

“Yeah?”

They need you two back at the studio, costume fitting”

“Sure thing”

The sound of the small doorbell that had been fitted on the counter drew your attention from the racks in the back room, calling out for your new arrival that you’d be out in a second. The job you’d applied for in Vancouver had pulled through, and it was your first week. A new show that needed a lot of men’s casual wear, yet things like jeans and jackets needed seams strengthened for fight scenes and pockets added for prop weapons. You were yet to meet the two main stars of the show, the casting having not been fully finalised until just days ago, and everything was hush-hush until it was going to be announced at one of the late summer conventions.

Dumping the armfuls of clothing onto the counter you turned and almost fainted;

“Chris?!”

For a second he looked in shock before he vaulted the counter, and took you into his arms;

“You’re here? You’re really here?”

“You’re the star?! You didn’t tell me!”

You kissed him deeply, before a quiet cough from behind Chris drew your attention, Chris turning;

“Seb, I want you to meet the girl I was telling you about”

The other guy raised an eyebrow;

“You’re THE girl? Wow, it’s a pleasure to meet you” he held his hand out over the counter and you shook it, Chris still holding you in his arms; “I’m Sebastian but everyone calls me Seb”

Looking at the two of them you knew in that moment the show was going to be a hit, and you looked forward to making these two look even better on screen… if that was even possible.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Surveys #447-448

(one from yesterday, one from v early this morning)

How did you and the last person you kissed start talking? By both being meerkat RPers on YT back in the day. Do you think someone is falling in love with you? Definitely not. Do you have a bad temper? Nah. What was the last song you listened to? SOBS "Suteki Da Ne" from FFX. If your mom was a teacher, would you want to be in her class? Hell yeah. She actually has been my substitute teacher before, as she worked at my elementary school with the special ed kids. Are you comfortable with people going through your phone? No. I have nothing to hide on there at all, but still... I just don't like it. Do you really care about what toothpaste you use? So long as it's mint-flavored, no, I don't care. Would you like it if the whole world spoke one language? I mean, I think it's pretty inarguable that that would be a beneficial thing. For all humans to understand each other, like in dire situations where information needs to be brought across. However, I don't believe we should actually try to change that now with so many languages already developed. That would be way, way too big a task and not that important. Would mind-reading really be a blessing or a curse? I'd find it more to be a curse. Would you ever get a pet turtle? Why or why not? Nah. They just don't interest me as pets. Do you tend to daydream a lot? If so, about what? Yeah. .-. About a lot of stuff... How I want my future to be, things I wish would happen, how I'd change past errors... What shop/store/brand would you model for, if given the choice? I would 110% model for Cloak if for whatever miraculous reason they wanted me to because a bitch supports her favorite human asdkfajkwle. I'd totally do some goth modelling for Rebel's Market, too. Do you actually read your friend’s surveys, or do you just copy and paste them and fill them out yourself? I read my friends' answers, yes. I like learning obscure things about them. Which is your favorite episode of I Love Lucy? Bar none, the "Vitameatavegamin" one. It's fucking hilarious, man. I love that show. Do you consider yourself a deep thinker? WAY too deep. Name two people who you are closest with? My mom and Sara. Which one of those two people would you eat first, if you were starving? Neither. I would absolutely rather die. No one cares whether or not you believe in love at first sight… but, do you believe in hate at first sight? Well, let's be real. If you witnessed someone being abused or raped or something like that, wouldn't YOU hate the villain immediately? I sure as hell would. When you were a kid, which comic strip was your favorite? I didn't care for those. How do you feel about fake plants? They can look good, they can look tacky, and they make great additions to some animal enclosures, like reptiles and bugs, for cover and new textures. Does it make you uncomfortable when people ask you your shoe size? Er, no? Would you feel guilty about cheating on your taxes if you got away with it? Yes. I tend to have a guilty conscience. Are you happy with your weight? NO. Do you go to church? If so, do you actually pay attention? No. When I was forced to go as a kid, I never paid attention. As a very young adult when I super rarely went, I would try to, but my attention definitely wavered. Would you rather have your nose or tongue pierced? Tongue, if it just didn't damage my damn teeth. :( I miss my snake eyes. Ever peed in your pants after the age of 10? It's very embarrassing, but yes. A few years ago, I had this very strange period of premature incontinence when I slept. I had to be put on some medication and a schedule to wake up in the night to use the bathroom. It oddly just... vanished as randomly as it started. Had any surgeries? What kind? I had tubes put in my ears as a baby, and then at the start of 2017 (I think), I had to have a cyst removed from my butt. :^) Ever told your parents you hated them? I've told Dad that, yes. Are you sober? Yeah. Do you have a crazy side? Not really, no. I'm boring. Do you have siblings over the age of 18? All of my siblings are. Do you think that downloading music illegally is immoral? Yes, and yet... I do it anyway. :x Have you ever sworn at a policeman/woman/cop? No. How far do you agree that the mother is more important in a child’s life than the father? I Don't agree with that. Would you ever let one of your children enter a beauty pageant? If they were old enough to make their own decisions, I'd have no say. But as a little kid, no. I do not support those damn things. What was your favorite Pokemon as a child? Charmander! :') Do you have a favorite name? What is it? Alessandra. It's so beautiful. What was the topic of the last assignment/essay you wrote? Toxic masculinity. I got SO into that essay. What’s your favorite type of juice? Probably peach mango. What was the hardest language you’ve ever tried to learn? LATIN. Like holy shit. What’s your younger sibling’s name? Nicole. What kind of cookie is your favorite? Chocolate chip. What would you do if your ex contacted you? I would just be... so happy. But also scared of where it would lead. What age would you like to have a child? No age, because I never want any. Are your parents wealthy? Definitely not. My dad SEEMS decently well-off, but he is most certainly not rich. Have you ever asked someone out? Yes. Your ex tells you they want you back, what do you say/do? I know I'd say yes, very quickly. -_- Do you know anyone that smokes weed? More like she's addicted to it. Is there one person you look at and automatically smile? Oh, that's Mark for sure, ha ha. Especially if he's laughing. It's game over for me if he's laughing. What’s your favorite hairstyle on a guy? Don't even fucking @ me, I love the emo hair swoop alskdfjalkwje;kjrwklejarwe Do you know anyone who’s won the lottery? No. What’s the name of the last cat you pet? Roman. What have you been up to today? Anything interesting? The only thing I've done today that deviates from my normal routine is I had to get blood drawn for some tests for my upcoming check-up. I don't know what was up with that needle, but it hurt this time. Are you the type of person to dwell on the past? I live there. Did your grandparents teach you anything? Not really, no... besides being old-fashioned is not an excuse for being an uptight... er... this answer is so mean, given the grandmother I'm talking about is dead, oof. Do you want/have a Bachelor’s degree? I wanted one... but I don't have one and never will. Are you a fan of penguins? Yeah, they're mega cute. Who do you think about most constantly? Why? Anyone who reads these can answer that very, very easily. Have you ever considered yourself to be something other than heterosexual? Yeah; I'm either bi or pan. I think pansexual as of very recently, but for simplicity's sake and also for almost all of my family to not think I'm crazy, I really just say bisexual. Have you ever been in love? With who? Yes; Jason and Sara. Dolphins, whales, sharks, or narwhals? Dolphins or whales. Have you ever gotten anything amputated? No. Have you ever tied your tooth to a door to lose it? No. What do you do on the computer? Oh jeez... I'm pretty much, well, always on the computer, so I do a whole lot. I watch/listen to YouTube, write, clean out my dA notifications and browse artwork, scroll through Facebook, play World of Warcraft, edit the Silent Hill wiki, do way too many surveys, talk to Sara on Discord... Anything your parents should know about? No. Do you have a life? It sure as hell doesn't feel like it. I do nothing noteworthy. Do you have a microphone on your computer? It's built-in, but it doesn't work. Does your mouse light up? Yeah; red normally, blue when it's charging. Then it's also purple sometimes??? I have no idea what it means. Were you ever physically abused? No. Verbally? No. Sexually? No. Do your teachers like you? Not to brag or anything, but all my teachers loved me. Do your parents like you? I know they love me. Do your siblings like you? I don't feel like they do half the time. :/ It's my own fault for not knowing how the fuck to interact with them. Did you have a tail when you were born? At first I saw this question and was confused as shit, but then I remembered this was actually a thing, ha ha. But no, I wasn't. Do you enjoy school? I hated it. Are you shallow? No. Greedy? I don't think so, no. It feels good to share. Do you have a piercing in an inappropriate spot on your body? No. A tattoo? Well, I have a tattoo over my heart, so it's on my breast, if you wanna count that? Are you stubborn? God, am I. Are you incestuous? Fuck no. Do you respect your body? Meh... Yes in some ways, in other ways no. Have you ever been to therapy? Did you like it? I've been in therapy for most of my life, and yes, I find it helpful. Have you ever used Duolingo to learn another language? No. Are you unhappy at the moment? Yes. I usually am. Do you have any gay friends? Yes. Have you ever watched iCarly? Yeah, I used to enjoy it. Who’s your favorite Disney character? Probably Dory. What was the last thing you wrote in a word document? This survey, actually. It's how I format it and save my progress. What did you last take painkillers for? A headache. Are there any hobbies you want to get back into? Drawing. :/ Have you ever been on a date with someone you met online? How was it? Yeah; when Sara and I were together and I went up to visit her, we had a breakfast date once. :') Do you find it difficult to get rid of material possessions? Yeah. I hold a lot of nostalgia in many items. What sort of games do you like to play? Horror and fantasy, mainly. They need a story, too, and I ESPECIALLY enjoy games with multiple endings. Then I also play WoW, which is an MMORPG. Do you know anyone who is deaf? No. Have you ever been married? Nope. What is your favorite thing to dip fries in? Ketchup. Do you still talk to anyone you went to high school with? Just Girt, really. Have you ever had to dispute a charge on your credit card? I've never had my own credit card. Quick! Choose pink or purple. Pink, duh. What's your favorite book genre? Fantasy. Would you say you’re generally fit and healthy? Why/why not? No. :/ I'm trying to change that though by going to the gym. Would you ever want a job working with animals? My main aspiration is to be a wildlife photographer, if that counts? Sara also wants to be a ball python breeder, and we talk all the time about it and how I'd love to be like an assistant and help with my own future snakes. Most recently, I will definitely have to have experience with them as pets first and see if I can handle it, but I've considered breeding tarantulas on the side. The hobby could ALWAYS use more breeders to prevent wild-caught specimens being taken from the wild, and it would help lower their prices. I've gotten so passionate about those furry bastards that I would really enjoy helping out with that. Do you believe in your horoscope? Even if you don’t, do you still read it? Not at all. I don't, because it feels like a waste of time if I don't even believe in it. If a couple is married, do you think there should be any legal punishment if one person cheats? No... I am firmly against cheating, but that sounds extreme. Do you enjoy Tim Burton films? Which one is your favorite? Of course! My favorite is Corpse Bride.

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Was the last book you read for fun, or was it for some type of assignment? It was for fun. Do you think you would be a good match for your celebrity crush(es) assuming you have one? Why? If you don’t have one, who was the last person you saw that you found attractive? No, honestly. He really doesn't like seeing people not pursuing their utmost potential, and, uhhhh, look at me, lol. I'm in no way good enough for that god of a human being lmao. How old were you when you had your wisdom teeth removed? I still have them. I only have two, and my mouth has enough room for them. Do you wish you were taller or shorter? My height's fine. Where was the last job application you filled out sent to? Food Lion. Have you ever been fired from a job? No. I quit way too early for that to ever happen. .-. What poster is hanging closest to you? My big Metallica one. Which cuisine do you like the least? I honestly haven't experimented enough with foreign foods to decide on one specific cuisine I really don't like as a whole. Are there any foods you dislike because of the texture? There are A LOT. I am very, very sensitive to textures. Which type of chocolate do you like best? Milk chocolate. Do you let your pets sleep in your bed? Absolutely. Well, obviously not my snake Venus, but Roman? Yes. This is his house, too, and he deserves a comfy space to sleep. If you wear makeup, what are your preferred brands? I don't have one. Have you ever made sun tea? I have no idea what that is. Do you prefer powdered or liquid coffee creamer? I don't like coffee. Did your school have somewhere for girls to get emergency pads/tampons? Yes. Do you think they should make a movie about Hatshepsut? Now here's a question I haven't heard before, ha ha. I actually think that would be quite interesting and certainly empowering to women. Do you like to go to the movies alone? I actually did that for the Warcraft movie, and it was pretty chill. I prefer going with others, though. Have you ever dried down any flowers to keep them? No. What is your favorite thing that you have made by yourself? Probably my Pyramid Head/Halo of the Sun drawing. I worked my ass off on that, and I love how it came out. Do you like using clay and/or peel-off masks for skincare? I don't use those specifically, no. Have you ever made a pillow out of an old T-shirt? No. If you want to be cremated, do you want your ashes scattered anywhere? I haven't really thought of this, but I know I want them to be scattered somewhere. I don't wanna be cremated and have no lineage to cherish the ashes so I just end up thrown away or scattered in someone's backyard or something like that. I guess the desert would be pretty cool, if it was one with meerkats. Would you ever have a deceased pet stuffed? No. I have mixed feelings on taxidermy, but doing that to your pet just... seems wrong somehow. Like I feel that there'd be an unhealthy attachment to a dead body, and it feels like you're not allowing your beloved pet to truly, fully rest. Even if there is nothing beyond death, it's just a respect thing to me. Would you ever have a pet cremated? Teddy was cremated, yes. I WANTED to cremate my first ball python and Chinese water dragon, and both were in the freezer for a long time, but it just... never happened. It's not cheap. Mom also had Cali (her dog) cremated, but didn't keep the ashes herself because of it, once again, being expensive. Personal cremation costs more than a group one. Do you believe in the existence of parallel universes? Nah. How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once. Collect anything? Any and all meerkat stuff and Silent Hill merchandise. Can you stick your fist in your mouth? ... I'm not about to try that. When was the last time you were high on anything? Never. Ever had a bloody nose? Yes. Have you ever caught a fish? Yes. Ever been up a mountain? Ugh, I wish! What are you listening to right now? I'm watching Gab Smolders play Amnesia: The Dark Descent. Do you have any birthmarks? Yeah; it's on my right forearm, near the elbow. Have you ever been slapped? I've been spanked and slapped on the arm by my mother when I was younger. And sometimes not so young. What do you want pierced? My collarbones, nostril, way more in my ears, and possibly my back dimples if I shrink down to a size where you can actually SEE them clearly... Do you like taking pictures? Of nature and animals. Sometimes people. Do you like getting your picture taken? Hell no. Have you ever started a rumor? No. Do you have your own pool? No. What do you want a tattoo of? You're asking someone who wants to be COVERED in tats, ha ha. I have a billion ideas. Have you ever been skinny dipping? Nah. Have you ever been chased by cops? No. Do you ever wear shirts do show your belly? OH FUCK NO. What about cleavage? I wear tank tops more than anything, so some. What theme does your room have? It doesn't have one. Do you like cows? Awwww, I love cows. :') <3 Which slow animal is your favorite? Sloth, turtle, or snail? Turtles aren't that slow; it's tortoises you're thinking about, so I'll consider them instead. Regardless, I think I find snails the cutest. If you had to create an app, what would it be for? I have zero clue. What is one television finale where you were upset with how it ended? I don't know. Other than mandatory lockdowns, have you had to quarantine at all for CoVid? No. What steps would you take in order to track down a thief? ... Not many, tbh, given JUST how afraid of confrontation I am, ha ha. What is something that one of your family member collects? Dad collects Cleveland Browns and Carolina Hurricanes sports stuff. What are some questions that you would ask your favorite celebrity? I've... never thought of this, believe it or not. I'd be too busy blubbering about how important he is to me and thanking him for everything he's ever done alskdjfkla;wje Have you ever legitimately forgotten to do homework? Yes. That was very, very rare, though. Depending on where you live, why might a day of school get canceled? If there was a 1% chance of half an inch of snow. :^) Everyone flips their shit here when that happens. Also, hurricanes. What types of transportation do you think we will see in the future? Besides possibly flying cars, idk. Which freaks you out more - clowns or porcelain dolls? aklsdjflajdsALSKDFJA;LWJE D O L L S. Porcelain dolls creep me out, man. Do you like salami? Yeah. Do you know your mum's first pet's name? I actually don't, no. Do you like car racing? No. I think it's stupid, honestly. People can get and have gotten seriously hurt, or worse. Who hugs you the most often? My niece and nephew, probably. Has your favorite actor ever been stuck to a project you dreaded watching (e.g., stuck on a bad TV show for years)? No. When you were a child did you wish you were named something else? What sort of fantasy life did you imagine for yourself if you’d only had this other better name? Bro I shit you not, I wanted to change my name to "Dory" because of Finding Nemo, lmao. I never thought about how my life would be different, though. Are you a plant person? How do you feel about the trend of owning many, many houseplants? Nah, plant maintenance isn't for me. I don't care how many plants you own so long as you care for them. It seems pointless to buy plants and just neglect them. What are you sick of hearing about? Anti-vax bullshit. Do you wish that you had more followers on any platform? Do you even pay attention to how many likes/comments/followers you have? The only places I really care about that are my photography Facebook page and deviantART because ffs I TRY to make progress as a photographer lasdkfj;lawe but neither move very fast at all. Are you currently working on an art project? No. :/ I need to draw something for once. If applicable, what color are you planning to dye your hair next? I have three in mind: lilac, pastel pink, or silver. Do you have a sibling who looks like your twin? No. My older and younger sister look remarkably similar, though. People have confused them a lot. Do you think you'd make a good actor or actress? God no, I'd feel far too awkward. Do you believe you have a lot of potential? Ugh, I don't know, dude. Would you like to be rich and own a vacation home? Who wouldn't? Have you ever walked through a labyrinth? No. What eyeshadow color do you think looks best on you? Black. I only wear black. Do you shop in the girls, juniors, or women's section at the store? Women's. Do you play video games? I haven't played a game other than WoW in a long time. :/ I only have a PS2 and Wii, and most of the games I want to play are for newer generation consoles. Is your house more than two stories tall? It's not even two stories. Have you ever had the flu? No. *knocks on wood* Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? Nope. Would you ever get a lip tattoo? No. I want tons of tats, but that sure isn't one of 'em. Has any place hired you underage for a job? No. Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? No. Does eating breakfast make you sick? No. I'm one of those people that wants to eat right when I wake up. What four states in the USA would you most like to visit? Which four countries would you most like to visit? States: Alaska, Utah, Wyoming, and some southwestern state where I can visit the desert and maybe see wild tarantulas. Countries: South Africa, Germany, Canada, and uhhhh idk. Would it bother you if your boyfriend hugged other females (think hypothetically if you don’t have one)? Why or why not? No? Hugs can just be a friendly gesture. They don't have to have underlying romantic implications. If you had snow-days as a kid, how did you spend them? Do you like the snow, in general? Oh man, snowy days were the epitome of joy when I was a kid. The #1 thing I wanted to do was make a snowman with Dad and my sisters if the snow was the right texture to pack. We loved snowball fights, making snow angels, watching the cats play... and you CAN'T forget making sugary snow cream. Do you know anyone who does hard drugs? Would you ever befriend someone that did? No one that does hard drugs now, no. I honestly don't know how I'd respond to wanting to befriend a hardcore druggie... Like I'm totally aware drug addicts are not innately bad people, but it can be dangerous to associate with them. So idk. Do hospitals make you nervous? Why or why not? Do you have any bad hospital experiences? Yes. I do NOT like being in hospitals. I've never been treated badly in one or anything, but I just have way, way too many ER memories from being suicidal and just stripped of everything that could somehow be interpreted as a "danger." Even books had to be approved. Technology of all kinds, forbidden. All I did was sleep on that godawful bed and wish I was dead. But I'm rambling; point is, I really don't like any health care establishment just because of negative memories. Do you still talk to the first person you ever dated? If not, would you want to? Why or why not? No. We just don't. I wouldn't be opposed to knowing what he's up to. What do you like most about your favorite animal? Their loyalty and bravery are purely astonishing. Do you need a job? Yes. I'm a leech in my house. I serve no financial purpose to assist my mom in paying bills and all of that. I'm a full-grown adult that should be benefiting humanity. Who do you love the most in your life? My mom, cat, and best friend probably top the list. What is your mom doing right now? I hope she's asleep, but she tends to sleep very badly and is frequently tossing and turning around this time. Where does she work? She's on disability. For the type of cancer she had, she automatically got it with her diagnosis. It's recently been a year since her last chemo session, but let me tell you from witnessing it: It takes A LOT out of you. It was actually torturous for her. She's still regaining her strength and healing before she can wisely get another job. Do you have Netflix? Yeah. What was the last thing you quit doing? I don't know. Have you ever read a book that changed your life? No. Who did you last talk to before you went to bed last night? Sara, if through text counts. Have you ever taken Xanax before? Yes; I was prescribed it for quite a while. Have you ever suffered from anxiety or depression? Try both, buddy.

#survey #surveys #random questions

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choupichoups · 5 years

Photo

Press F (Instagram/College AU)

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

He smiles down at the screen, scrolling through the hilarious comments on the post. The exaggerated marriage proposals are probably his favourite because, honestly, same but he’d never be caught dead saying shit like that. Even as a joke.

Maybe.

Lucas sinks deeper into the couch, dimming the brightness on his phone screen just in case Yann happens to look over at some point. It’s not like Yann doesn’t know what he’s up to most of the time, but he’d still like to save himself from some of the teasing, thank you very much.

“Did you see that?” Yann yells at no one in particular, fully engrossed in the game they’re playing. Or they had been playing, since Lucas died in the game a good few minutes ago. He’s got better things to do anyway— like check the guy’s profile for any new updates he might have missed. Lucas isn’t exactly on top of his game when it comes to keeping up with Instagram but ever since his great discovery, he’s spent more time scrolling through the app in more recent times that his entire high school years combined.

“I’m doing another round of this before we switch up the game, okay?” Yann murmurs, already pressing the buttons before Lucas even replies. The latter shrugs, doesn’t care whether he gets to play for the next while. He’s much too preoccupied staring at the new photo he’s been graced with.

The dude, the myth, the legend. Eliott Demaury.

Lucas found out about him nearly two months ago— or more accurately, he found Eliott’s short film, Polaris, while scrolling through Youtube one dull Friday night. He’d watched the entire thing at three o’clock in the morning and promptly obsessed over it for the next couple of hours. Finding the director’s Instagram and seeing a puzzle posted on it hadn’t doused his interest either. If anything, that just made it worse. His last two braincells had worked in overdrive trying to rewatch the film and solve the puzzle at the same time.

Needless to say, he’d managed to find Eliott’s personal account in the end but the feeling of accomplishment only lasted until he saw that quite a lot of people had also found it. Mr. Demaury, has, in fact, half a million followers on his Instagram and Lucas could have probably found it easily if he’d just googled it instead of driving himself nuts figuring out what the riddle meant.

“Man, this is too hard.” Yann groans from beside him and Lucas can only assume he’s lost another round. He offers a vague noise of sympathy for his friend. “Are you really doing this right now?”

“Hm?”

“You’re really out here stalking your man during our we time?”

Lucas drags his gaze off of Eliott’s majestic photo so Yann can get a full view of his frown. “Our what now?”

“This is our time, Lucas. Best friend bonding time. 22h to 24h, it’s on the contract.”

He starts laughing, can’t help it when faced with the truly affronted expression all over Yann’s face. “What contract?”

“You signed it when you were like two years old.”

“Uh huh.” Now certain that Yann’s just talking nonsense, Lucas returns his attention back on his phone. “Legit age to be signing contracts.”

Yann doesn’t say anything but he steals Lucas’ phone from his grip and holds it out of reach when Lucas scrambles to get it back. “You don’t even follow him, what the hell?”

“That doesn’t matter, give it back!”

“So what, you just search up his profile all the time?”

“What about it?”

“That’s so sad, Lucas.”

“Shut up,” he says, snatching his phone back once it’s finally in his reach. “Imane knows this guy, I won’t hear the end of it if they get even a little hint that I’m looking at— Yann!” he screeches, shaking Yann’s shoulder with one hand while his other holds the phone up to his face.

The horror in his voice must be evident because Yann immediately straightens up, dragging Lucas close so he can take a look at the screen as well. “What?”

“Oh no… oh no no no.”

“Oh shit.”

“What do I do?!” Lucas waves his phone at Yann, almost decking him on the nose in the process. Yann stills him, shaking his head at the bright red heart below Eliott’s post. “Do you think I should unlike it? I can still do that right? He won’t see the notification, he gets a lot anyway.”

“No, man, that just makes it weird.”

“But…”

“You have to follow him.”

Lucas gives him a withering look. “Are you serious right now?”

“It’s natural! You like the post, okay, chill, next you follow. He gets lots of notifications, as you said. By the time he checks back, 200 other people would have followed him too. Wait a couple more days then unfollow and unlike.” Yann rubs at his back, sounding so sure of himself. “Then you can go back to your sad stalking ways after that.”

He shoves at Yann with a scowl, making sure to kick at his friend’s limbs as he slides off from where he’d basically crawled into the other’s lap in a desperate bid to retrieve his phone. And look where all that effort has gotten him.

“You sure that’s not weird?”

Yann throws a pillow at his face. “I already said it’s natural. Honestly if somebody did that to me I wouldn’t think anything weird of it.”

“Okay.”

Lucas hits the follow button, closes out of the app, and shoves his phone under the cushions. Whatever happens next is a problem for tomorrow.

He doesn’t go back on Instagram until well into Tuesday evening, choosing instead to finish all of his homework and maybe do a little bit of reading ahead of time for his biology class. It’s a wonder how much one is capable of getting done while avoiding the thing they usually obsess over.

But he’s only human. So letting go of all the self control he’s managed to conjure up the entire morning, he pulls up the app and slowly scrolls through the new content. He doesn’t know why he’s dreading this so much anyway— literally nothing is probably going to happen. Eliott won’t even notice the new addition to his massive following and Lucas would be able to see his posts without having to search up his username all the goddamn time. It’s a win-win.

Lucas doesn’t curb the smile pulling at the corners of his lips, even though a small part of him is a little disappointed. Not that he’s expecting anything to come out of this ridiculous infatuation anyway but knowing what Polaris is paired with that caption, the post sounds increasingly more romantic the longer he thinks about it.

So Eliott’s taken already. That’s cool. Great. But this is nice, at least, Eliott’s posts being readily accessible for him like this. Maybe he shouldn’t have made a big deal about following the guy in the first place. Only Imane seems to know both Eliott and Lucas anyway and she’s not the type to unnecessarily pry into other people’s business.

He still doesn’t hit like on the post though. He has to be subtle about this, he’ll wait a couple more posts to go before liking another one. Lucas is extra careful to avoid double tapping the screen when he goes back to his feed, no longer holding his breath for a catastrophe as he mindlessly goes through other new posts and notifications.

Which explains why he’s entirely too unprepared for what happens next.

srodulv started following you.

He clutches at his phone with both hands, forcibly shoving down the urge to scream and throw his phone out the window. He’s ill-equipped to deal with this. It’s not supposed to happen; Eliott shouldn’t have noticed him and Lucas should be free to get on with his life without knowing that some god in human form has probably seen the dumb photos he posts with him and the gang and— oh god, what did he post during that party last week again? It doesn’t look too stupid does it?

Lucas frantically skims through his own profile, wanting to shrivel up and die for every post he finds way too embarrassing to be seen by the guy.

The apartment door creaks open and Lucas throws himself off his bed, running out to the living room and most likely startling Yann out of his mind but that doesn’t matter right now.

“Yann!” he yells out, reminiscent of the panicked tone he’d used the night before.

“Huh?” Yann turns around, dropping his bag on the floor as he slips out of his shoes.

Lucas stands in front of him, holding out the phone over his head like it’s Simba. “He noticed me,” he whispers as if there’s a chance that anyone else would hear them.

“Who?” Yann looks from Lucas’ wide eyes to the phone in his hand. The screen is eye level for Yann so he merely peeks up to see what all the fuss is about. “Oh.”

And then Yann starts laughing. Lucas, personally, doesn’t find anything amusing in this situation.

“Can you stop that? I’m so stressed out right now,” he huffs, bringing the phone back down to his chest so he can stare some more at the notification that changed his life.

“Sorry, you gotta admit it’s a little funny.”

It’s not, but okay. Lucas continues frowning down at the screen, wondering if it would be too weird to mass delete half of his old posts.

Yann takes his phone away before he does anything stupid.

“You said he won’t even realize,” Lucas mumbles miserably, mind flashing back to that one stupid meme he’d posted about three weeks ago. God, Eliott’s going to unfollow in the next ten minutes.

“I’m not right about everything. Anyway, isn’t this a good thing? The guy only follows like 20 people and you’re one of them.”

Wait, what?

He reaches up, tilts his own phone in Yann’s hand so he can confirm that with his own eyes.

And okay, maybe that makes him feel a little giddy inside. Deep down. Just a little.

“Congrats, man. Not everyone gets noticed by their crush.”

“I don’t have a crush.”

“Sure.”

“Shut up.”

His phone beeps with another notification and they both look down at it simultaneously, like birds honing in on loose bread. It’s almost comical the way they gasp in unison when the notifications start popping up. From instagram user srodulv. Eliott. Eliott’s straight up just… liking a lot of his posts. Embarrassing memes included.

Yann opens his mouth to say something but Lucas grabs the phone out of his grip and runs back into his room, shutting the door so he can freak out in peace.

#elu #skam france #skamfr #elu fic #thats a lotta tags #did i make this blog just so i can post this?#more likely than you think #this is how i cope #all the au #i feel like we're all just staring into the void #waiting for the clip to drop #im gonna sleep #elu insta au #fictag

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 5 years

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You are an incredible writer! I absolutely love the way you write the Dadmight and Izuku dynamic, it’s amaaazing! Do you have any headcanons regarding them (and Inko??) you could elaborate on?

Oh hell yeah!

Izuku

- Izuku doesn’t go on as many of the hero forums anymore. After the sports festival, there was a sizable debate as to whether he was a viable hero canidate or not; he’s got a cool, powerful ability, but it breaks him. A lot of people in the latter camp weren’t nice about it. Views have softened on him since then.

- Izuku will look at anything All Might recommends, no question. They have similar tastes, so the like to discuss the books and movies they watch afterward. Every once in a while, All Might will prank him with a bad movie just to see how long his successor will struggle to pretend to like it until he cracks.

- Has trouble accepting compliments. After over a decade of kind words coming from sarcasm and pity, it’s hard. But slowly, he’s getting better.

- Is the kind of person who when passing an animal in the car will say it out loud. “Horses.” “Look at all the birds.” “There was a dog in that car.”

- Anxious worker. Any time he isn’t spending on training or class work is a problem. Ever since his overtraining episode before recieving One for All, All Might mandated Izuku schedule in some personal time to just relax. Sometimes, they spend it together.

- He was introduced to heroes via his dad. Hisashi was a huge fan of All Might himself, so when the news ran a special for the anniversary of All Might’s debut, he watched the whole thing with two-year-old Izuku on his lap.

- He has notifications is his phone set for a week before each of his friends’ birthdays so he remembers to buy a gift. Not that he needs them.

- Texts his mom good morning and goodnight everyday. FaceTimes at least once a week.

- Sometimes, he can’t help but wonder how his life would have gone if he remained quirkless. Would things have been better at another high school? Which of his current friends would treat him different? How? Even his reconciliation with his mom about her lack of support didn’t come until after he got his quirk. Those days, he sticks close to All Might, the one person he knows for sure wouldn’t think any different of him.

Inko

- Huge speculative fiction nerd. Sci-fi, fantasy, and horror, the whole trifecta. Has ranted to her family more than once about how frustrating it is that the first two tend to be haphazardly thrown together without much organization in book stores. Penned a few short stories herself back in the day, but never had the nerve to try and publish them.

- Met Hisashi in a French course in college. Both of them were only there for the credit and bonded over how much it sucked.

- Since both she and Hisashi were only children, they romanticized the idea of having a big family when they first got married. They were discussing having another baby around when Izuku was declared quirkless. Not wanted to make her son feel like he was being replaced, she shut the talk down. They brought it back up occasionally, but never got very far.

- Though the quirkless make up about 20% of the total population, Izuku’s generation was less than 5%. Most of the resources Inko found while researching how best to support him were mommy blogs with martyr complexes whining about how hard it was for them to raise “disabled” children. She avoided everything they said like the plague.

- Still carries a lot of guilt for not being supportive of Izuku in his time of need. Her showering him in hero merch despite not having a lot of money was a subconscious effort to fill the hole she dug between them. After Izuku got into U.A., they had a long talk about it. Another before he went off to the dorms.

- A friend of hers had been hounding Inko to join her catering business, and she agreed after Izuku moved out. She’s now the lead baker.

- Her occasional discussions with All Might regarding himself lead her to do research on various types of diet restrictions, as well as experimenting to improve the limited dish options. She and her coworkers regularly cater events that host people with such restrictions.

- Waffles back and forth between being in aw of all the incredible things her son has accomplished in such a short time, and dragging him back home where she knows he’ll be safe. But that’s parenthood.

Toshinori

- Also a huge nerd, but for Sci-fi specifically. His grandfather was a professor of American Speculative Fiction at a Japanese university, so he inherited a whole library of books when the man passed away. Got even more while studying abroad. He grew up reading them, and revisits often in his retirement. Also regularly exchanges recommendations with Inko.

- Loves pre-quirk superheroes and comic books. Superman, Shazam, and Blue Beetle were some of his favorites. He got into the heroes of fiction before setting his sights on his own world. A reoccurring theme he latched onto was the idea that regular people had just as much power to change the world as those with superhuman abilities.

- Wanted to be a comic artist briefly. He even practiced drawing. But people really weren��t into fictional heroes anymore and the industry around real heroes at the time wasn’t at the point where people were making and selling comics for them yet. He still has most of his old drawings, and is trying to pick the hobby back up. Totally draws his students and coworkers.

- Before the Symbol of Peace was a thing, powerful villains regularly pulled large scale schemes reminiscent of old comics, such as holding entire towns hostage. This happened more than once to young Toshi’s hometown, and once he started training with Nana he rode them out with her and Gran Torino. They’d hole-up in Nana’s house with food, movies, and whatever gear they needed to hold off whatever quirk was threatening them for a couple days when the two adults weren’t trying to solve the problem. As stressful as those times were in the moment, Toshi looks back on them fondly.

- Was initially very self conscious about Izuku’s fanboy worship. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure the kid into doing something he wasn’t comfortable with. He assured Izuku that he would think no less of him if the boy needed to cut back or didn’t want a certain subject brought up. They’ve gotten more comfortable with one another’s boundaries over time, and now Toshinori only wields his influence to trick him into watching bad movies.

- When he was first looking in to being a teacher, before he even met Izuku, he asked around for guidance. The best pice of advice he got: “be the person you needed when you were their age.”

- He looks at every piece of fan mail he receives. His agency has a small department dedicated to scanning every letter and fanart into a program Toshinori can access from his phone or computer. Fanart is displayed all around his agency for a time, then replaced with a new batch and put into storage. Toshinori went back and found several pieces sent in by Class 1-A when they were young. He keeps them all in a booklet at home. Izuku sent several, and on the rare occasions he visits, Toshinori puts one of his on the fridge.

- There is a sizable area of his main agency open to the public. There’s a museum dedicated to Nana and other heroes that influence his growth. A small audotorium plays documentaries throughout the day, and sometimes hosts events related to hero issues. In a small corner, there’s an unassuming desks where people in some sort of crisis, be it running from a bad home life or a villain who wants to change their ways but doesn’t know where to go, can find the help they need.

- After he took on Izuku as a student, he launched an internal investigation into his own agency and affiliated organisations to find anti-quirkless sentiment. He’s in the process of putting together a transition plan for replacing a fourth of his staff.

- Used to be a huge foodie back before his injury. Now lives vicariously by treating his friends and family (the Midoriyas) out to nice dinners at obscure places.

- He genuinely believes that, given the option, Nana would have picked Izuku over him. And he’s more than okay with that.

Thank you so much for giving me an excuse to ramble. If you want to see some of these headcanons in action, I have a fanfiction you can read:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165612/chapters/40360787

#mha #dad might #midoriya izuku #all might #midoriya inko #headcanon #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #it’s after midnight and I’m having feelings #butterfly #dadmight #aconstandstateofheadcanon

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jojosthetic-boogaloo · 5 years

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Hello, I'm back! I'd really like a matchup please (M!)! I'm a white girl, who is 5'4" with green/blue and gold brown eyes and wavy to slightly curly extremely dark brown hair. I love to read (mostly historical fiction), write stories, and play video games, most of which are on the rpg genre. Most of my friends say that i am very nice and willing to help anyone who needs it, as well as having a very dark sense of humor. Most people don't know that i also have a really bad short temper, that used

Welcome back, Emily dear! Thank you so much for the kind words!!! <3 The matchup is all yours, hope you like it! //AND sorry for taking a while!!! Lemme tag you (if tumblr lets me) so you get the notification @emilyd-i-c-k-ens ;;//

Okay this is gonna sound a bit weird, but at first I didn’t know who to match you up with! Why? Because except on the physical aspect, you and I are pretty similar! Imagine the struggle of not just slapping in here a moodboard of my biggest stinky jojo crush...

NO MATTER! I found the answer in the end! And it’s double, so bare with me please!

Translation: “Love, with you by my side, I can do anything!”

Narancia Ghirga!

He just finds your natural charm and mature air tremendously magnetic. It’s like you’re exactly the balance he needs in his life.

You met at the movies when you went to see the same one, you went by yourselves so when you sat down and saw the theater almost empty and the single spot between you two vacant, Narancia just decided to sit next to you and give you a bright smile to start up chatting before the movie started rolling.

You had time to introduce yourselves, and you heard him ramble on how much he liked this kinda movies! He was so excited it made you feel his own excitement in return, making you naturally relaxed and bubbly around him.

When you got out of the movies, he chatted with you about it all the way outside, with your small input from time to time when he slowed down for a second. Once outside under the night’s sky, he seemed to look around curious, raising an eyebrow and looking back at you while scratching the back of his head. “Say, Y/N, is no one coming to fetch you? It’s pretty late to walk around alone...” He drifted off, even more surprised when you shook your head to confirm that, in fact, no one was coming.

“Well, in that case, I’ll walk you to your house, if you don’t mind it!” He asserted, showing you some quite comical flexing and posing to pretend he was strong and fearsome. “Alright, let’s get going then, Narancia.”

You didn’t live that far from the theater, so it didn’t worry you to make him lose his own path back to his own place. While you walked in silence, his hands in his pockets and kicking the occasional peeble on the pavement, he seemed to steal quick glances on your direction, thinking you didn’t notice.

“Something on my face, Nara?” You asked, both amused and curious. His reaction made you chuckle, as he shook his head from side to side violently and turned his gaze away from you. “No it’s...” He started, quietly. After a sigh from him, he finished his sentence. “You look pretty, that’s it.” Even if his tone sounded uninterested, you knew full well he was actually very embarrassed. The shade on his cheeks and his slight pout gave him away.

“Why, thank you, you look handsome too.” He gave you a look, his lips contorted into a lopsided smile and his eyes cast into the ground before him. Taking one of his hands to the back of his head, he kept walking with a small smile on his face. “Well, thanks, Y/N.” That was the first time a girl as pretty as you had called him handsome. Hell, the only one that called him that sometimes had been Buccellati when he asked if an outfit was ill-fitting on himself.

Before you’d realized, you stood at your door, turning to face him and give him a smile. “Thank you Narancia, it was a pleasure to walk home with you.” You started, not expecting the dark haired male to almost instantly extend his arm towards you, firmly grasping a phone in his hand that pointed in your direction. “P-please, could I have your number, Y/N?” Silence, and Ghirga felt some sweat beads on his temples. “I-I mean, I just really want to keep taking because you’re so nice and, and we like the same stuff and well I-” He was cut off by you gently hoovering your index finger on his lips, taking his unlocked phone and introducing your number in his contacts. “Saved.” You announced, giving him back his device and turning around once more, and waving him off with a little amused smile on your face.

He gave a little jump in front of your now closed door, that you didn’t fail to notice since you could see him through the window right next to it. This adorable gesture made you let out an amused small chuckle and a hand be brought to your chest. He was a cute one, and you wanted to get to know him better.

Almost around midnight, a text message entered your notifications from a new number, and you smiled. You couldn’t fall asleep thinking on how well your evening went, and the cause of that state just texted you without even thinking that people are usually asleep at that hour.

“Wanna go the arcade tmrrw??” Yes! You wanted to! And you let him know.

You went to the arcade and spent a wonderful time in there! He’d playfully bump your shoulders together when playing on the racing games, making you lose your balance to give him advantage. Whine even if he was amused when you beat him in crane games, and even sticking his arm inside with the risk of sticking it inside to get you a price that didn’t quite fall right!

It was a cute teddy bear, the perfect size to sit in your palm. Fluffy as all could be, and it held a small heart between its tiny arms. Narancia gave you a shy smile. “It reminds me of you and me, Y/N!” He said, cheery. “Why is that?” You replied between giggles and fist-bumping his shoulder gently. He reluctantly rose his hand to his neck and looked down. “Well.” He started. “We just met it, and it already holds a heart between its hands. You two are similar.” You took a second to understand what he meant, giving him a shy smile. Damn, he really went for it all huh?

“That’s so sweet, Narancia.” You replied, giving him a soft smile and gently grabbing his wrist, only to tug at it and start leading the way. “Come on, I wanna try and beat you on DDR*. Winner gets to challenge the other on whatever they want.”

The violet eyed male blinked a few times before smiling and following after you with an excited step. He was very good at DDR, excellent almost. As you stood both in your positions, one to the other’s side, he was already thinking about what he’d challenge you to.

As soon as the coins slid down the slot and you’d chosen your song, it was clear that neither of you were playing around. Nevertheless, Narancia’s movements were smoother, precise, his “Perfect!!” combo streak never faltering. You, on the other hand, were growing weary. Why’d he have to choose the difficulty? You were trying your best to keep up, when you slid your arms behind you and rested them on the support bar, while looking at the screen and trying to keep up. Unfortunately, last minute, when you tried to step on the correct arrow, your foot slipped and you fell on your butt, the last 4 arrows going by and the song ending with a nice little tune. Of course, Narancia had won.

“Y/N! Are you okay??” He missed his last notes to come immediately help you up though; and you couldn’t help but smile at him and swat your free hand to make him rest assured, while your other hand was the one he held tightly to help you. “I’m... fine, don’t worry.” You stared at him, he was close.

He gave you a lopsided smile, never letting go of your hand as he almost hoovered over you, you could barely feel his chest press on yours. “You know what, I think I know what I challenge you to, Y/N.” He started, tilting his head slightly to the side as he gave your face a short scan with his beautiful eyes up and down.

“Yeah? ... What is it?” You replied, your voice quiet, feeling a weird sensation turn and tighten in your stomach, your heartbeat in your ears. He smiled, showing you his slightly pointy canines and leaning close to place a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I challenge you to have another date with me, next time, we can meet in my apartment, I got Danganronpa on my PC.” You raised your eyebrow and gave his shoulder another soft punch. “That, that fills me with hope.” You replied, making him chuckle and gently let go of you, holding his hands behind his back. “Well then, it’s settled!” He exclaimed, balancing his body on his feet one time on his tip toes and one time on his heels. “I would have been filled with despair, otherwise.”

You laughed at his reference and gave him an amused smile. You liked him, you really did.

After you start dating some months later, he’s just... a wonderful boyfriend, you really have no complaints. He loves to laze around with you at home, playing whatever games you particularly enjoy. He particularly loved to watch you play Stardew Valley, he found it relaxing, even if sometimes, he got pouty and was overly clingy almost not letting you move when he noted that “You married a small pixel character and had two children and he was stuck as the pillow boyfriend”. You smacked him softly when he said such stupid things, but, it made you laugh, and he knew that.

Get ready for lots of cuddling and just physical affection while you watch movies at home together. Sometimes, you’ll feel him shake if something on the movie disturbed him. Occasional screaming when he gets scared. You noted he feels more distressed when watching indie horror movies, such as the Blair Project. He claims “he just likes the adrenaline they give him” when you ask him why he watches if he’s scared.

Fugo Pannacotta!

He finds support and understanding in you, he sees you as a strong pillar, he really admires you! As a person who’s had some problems with keeping his rage under check, he finds your understanding of the situation very assuring; he feels like a completely normal guy when he’s with you.

He thinks you’re the most interesting person around that does not get on his nerves, ever. (Narancia, does, even if he loves him very much, all has to be said.) You read very interesting books too! He respects that hobbie, sometimes he’ll sit with you to read his own and then quietly comment on how’s each other’s lecture going.

Your dark humor... He loves it. Each time you crack a way too dark for normal comfort joke, he absolutely cracks up. He just really likes how you have no trouble saying such things, besides, that’s his type of humor too man! He loves that!

He really likes your eyes! That’s a weird trait, but he really likes to focus on people’s eyes, and yours were so pretty and full of depth, he really liked what your eyes communicated. It made him feel assured and relaxed around you.

A smaaaaall side note on the * ; For the younger peeps, DDR means Dance Dance Revolution. And in my time (I mean i’m not THAT old but yeah), it was basically the most popular, fun and stressing dance game there was at the arcade back then. Now it’s rare to find one of those machines, at least where I live!

#narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #matchup #moodboard matchup #jojosthetic-boogaloo #emilyd-i-c-k-ens

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kuroken-lovechild · 5 years

Text

If this wasteland does end up dying on December 17, 2018: reblog with what you’d miss the most about tumblr

let’s get nostalgic here before it all ends

Mine would be all those fanfiction recommendations through masterposts, really really beautiful fanart of my favourite ships, shitposts at random times of the day that make me choke with laughter at 3 am, posts of interesting historical facts appearing on my dash, and especially the support of my own shitposts that I could never feel comfortable sharing anywhere else.

I would miss the anonymity and that “no-strings-attached” no judgment feeling whenever I’m on this site. I would miss how it brought me a way to escape from my real life. I’d definitely miss how searching a tag could make me fall deeper into a fandom which would end up bringing me so much genuine happiness that I could never feel anywhere else.

I would miss procrastinating my schoolwork by scrolling through @color-palettes’ blog; posts by @accio-shitpost, @boku-no-meme-academia, @one-time-i-dreamt and more blogs that would make me laugh my ass off. I’d miss all my mutuals that I’ve come to recognize and even though we don’t talk, I love all of you for making me feel appreciated somehow.

I’d miss reading @3rdgymbros’ really beautiful and thought-out AUs, all of @suguru’s art and comics that always made me scream every time, talking with @psychoarrogant and the really good advice and support, and gaining inspiration and actually feeling enough emotion and love to write, which I could never do before.

Right this second, I’m on this mess of a website trying to ignore my guilt and fear, and avoiding my best friends and a confrontation which would probably—definitely—end in horror. Literally, I turned off all notifications and just ran to this app because I felt like crying. I don’t feel like talking, so I come here. I don’t feel safe in my home, so I come here and just stay.

so yeah, I’m only 14, and I’ve got so much more to learn. But I’m not leaving this site because it has brought and continues to bring me so much happiness. I’m not trying to shadow or cover up all the bad sides of Tumblr; this is just my opinions, my feelings and my experiences when I’m here, and you’re under no obligation to feel/do the same.

Tumblr, get your shit together and don’t let what you’ve built all come crashing down. For all your users. For even a single person’s happiness.

#oof im feeling sentimental #tumblr #tumblr is the source of literally 90% of my happiness #i got my account when i wasnt even into anime yet #this is such a wild ride and i never want it to end #tumblr staff #staff #tumblr purge #authors #artists #fanfiction #art #tumblr ban #long post #SLDHDKDHDKDJDDJ AAAAA #i started tumblr as a panic! at the disco and harry potter blog #now its a mix of bands books musicals and anime

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danyka-fendyr · 6 years

Text

Scar Tissue Chapter 2: Dynamic Du-OH- A Sudden Realization

A/N: I’m posting this without editing because I hate myself. I will eventually come back and fix my many sins. Tagging @writingtheworks the works again. Do I think that Bruce Wayne invites his butler to family dinners? Yes, yes I do, and Gotham’s snooty societal standards can’t stop me or him. Take that you elitists. Rorie was exhausted. You really couldn’t blame her. She’d been listening to Jason monologue Romeo and Juliet repeatedly for about an hour now. She loved her best friend, but she was ready to stab Shakespeare. She understood this was his masterpiece, but did he have to do this to her?

“Jay, I promise you, you will get the part. The first 5 times, heck, the first 10 times, this was the most beautiful performance I had ever seen in my life,” I told him.

Jason broke character, collapsing out of a dramatic pose, arm extended, head held up, looking to an imaginary balcony.

“You cried the first time,” he said, grinning.

Rorie had never seen someone so pleased over her tears. ...Well, okay, that wasn’t necessarily completely true, but she’d fought the Joker, alright? He was pretty sick, and not in the good way.

“Yes, because it was amazing. We’ve been over this. You are amazing,” she said.

Jason blushed under the praise, his neck, cheeks and ears tinting pink. When Jason blushed, he blushed with his whole head. It was sort of cute. Or at least, Rorie assumed it would be cute if you were like, into that kind of stuff. Rorie, of course, was not.

“Anyway, you should try to get some sleep. We have patrol tonight. Plus, you wouldn’t want to look burned out for your audition. It’s no good having a Romeo who looks sleep deprived,” Rorie tried to reason with him.

“What if he’s sleep deprived because he’s been up all night thinking about his Juliet, and how she refuses to audition, despite Alfred’s best efforts,” Jason teased.

“And you. Don’t forget you,” Rorie sighed.

Alfred and Jason hadn’t gotten off her back about this since they first started holding auditions for Romeo and Juliet. Rorie refused on the principle that the characters made a long series of stupid decisions ending in a tragedy that could have been completely avoidable. Jason had countered with the fact that he had caught her reading it out loud, rather passionately, mind you, when they had been assigned the story for English class. It wasn’t Rorie’s fault that the story was still emotionally compelling, despite entirely lacking logic. Juliet admittedly had some pretty lines.

“This is too cliché. Why couldn’t the school play be something prettier, like Wuthering Heights?” Rorie objected.

“Your obsession with Wuthering Heights will never end, will it?” Jason asked.

“The writing is beautiful Jason!” Rorie cried, more passionate even then when she was playing the part of Juliet.

“Maybe if you get the lead role this year they’ll choose it next year. You could get friendly with the Mrs. Dowly, convince her it would be a good idea.” Jason carefully dangled the carrot in front of his prey’s face.

There was a pregnant pause while Rorie considered.

“You really think so?” she questioned, shooting him an uncertain, slightly untrusting look.

Jason nodded, his enthusiasm making the gesture comical so that he resembled a bobble-head. “Absolutely! Mrs. Dowly always considers how her leads feel.”

Jason would know. He was the theater teacher’s pet, and had been the lead many, many times. All the other theater nerds were jealous of him, if they didn’t absolutely hero worship him (something Rorie found ironically humorous, considering their nightlife).

Rorie sighed, the sound deeply resigned. In contrast, Jason whooped.

“I will only be auditioning,” she warned him.

“Absolutely,” Jason said.

“You will in no way try to convince Mrs. Dowly to show me any kind of special favor.”

“Of course not.” More bobble-headedness, this time a vigorous shake, like he was a wet dog.

“If I do, by some miracle, get the part, you will not gloat, tell me you knew it, or anything of the sort.”

At this, Jason pouted. Rorie glared.

“Can’t I be proud?” He gave her the puppy dog eyes.

He gave her the puppy dog eyes. Jason knew she couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. A little pride. But none while we’re in school!” Rorie caved.

“Yay!” Jason chirped, wrapping his arms around her, trapping hers by her side.

Rorie pouted, and Jason celebrated. It was at this moment that Bruce walked in, Alfred following closely behind with a curious expression on his face.

“What’s going on here?” There was a tone of deep, rich amusement to Bruce’s voice, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in what was usually about as close as he came to a smile (unless he was playing the role of ‘Brucie Wayne’).

“Rorie’s going to audition for the school play!” Jason cheered.

“With conditions!” Rorie added, seeing the look of excited shock on Alfred’s face and the knowing approval on Bruce’s.

“Well, miss, I suppose we’ll have to get you in shape!” Alfred declared.

“Oh no.”

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Wonderful, miss! The way you sigh it out is beautiful. Very wistful. Now if you could just make it a little bit less breathy,” Alfred instructed.

Rorie puffed a sigh, and Jason tried not to laugh at her. She looked frustrated. Not as frustrated as she could be, since she wasn’t doing math, but her hair was messy and her posture slumped, face red from trying to hold back an oncoming temper tantrum. Alfred had this tendency to sometimes work out the details a little too much when it came to Shakespeare, or really any kind of play or production. He was a man of the theater indeed.

Jason decided Rorie might need a rescue.

“Maybe I could work with her for a bit Alfred. You could take a break, maybe make some snacks?” he suggested, knowing Alfred would never leave drama without a specific task and purpose.

“Cookies?” Rorie asked, a forlorn hope swimming in her eyes.

“Ah! Of course! You lot do look as though you could use something to munch on. It will raise the spirits!” Alfred clapped his hands, looking as invigorated as he always did when he was allowed within range of fine art. “I’ll prepare some fruit, and perhaps some cookies if I feel it is warranted.”

By that Jason was pretty sure Alfred meant that Rorie ate too many cookies and that she was going to get cavities. He was trying to be nice right now though, since it was obvious that Rorie was seriously considering dropping out of the school play.When she got the part, the entire household had been elated. Well, Jason and Alfred had been elated, and Bruce had been smugly pleased. Emphasis on smug. That was his adopted daughter, after all.Jason was pretty sure that if ‘Brucie Wayne’ wasn’t supposed to be keeping up his eligible bachelor status, Bruce would have posted his pride all over ever social media platform he knew how to work. Jason’s phone pinged, and he checked his notifications.

Scratch that. Bruce wasn’t able to keep it in anymore now that he had not one, but two children in theater. He had just made the dorkiest post Jason had ever seen in his life on Twitter.

“So proud of @jtodd and @roreo for scoring roles in the school play! I look forward to seeing them play Romeo and Juliet, respectively. If you have the time, come down to @gothamacademy and watch. #Illbesittingfrontrow”

Jason hoped none of the other kids at school saw that. Jason knew every one of the other kids at school had seen that, even the ones who weren’t theater geeks. Jason was pretty sure any kind of a reputation he had was gone now.

“Oh no,” Rorie groaned.

“Oh no what, Miss?” Alfred said, poking his head into the room at the first sound of oncoming disaster.

Rorie extended her phone to him, letting him see the tweet Jason himself had just been looking at.

“All the kids at school will see this, Alfred! We’re done for.” Rorie exchanged a look of horror with Jason.

Alfred looked thoughtful.“We shall see, miss.”

And see they did.

Arriving at school the next day, Rorie did her utmost to go incognito. Sunglasses and a dark hoodie obscured her figure, and she kept her head bowed as she walked through the halls. Jason didn’t bother with this. His strategy was to not show any kind of weakness.

He strutted down the halls, trying to appear more confident than ever before, his hair slicked back with gel he had stolen from Bruce a while back and his favorite leather jacket on. He would have been wearing sunglasses, but Rorie stole his coolest pair.

As it turned out, Jason’s strategy worked better, unfortunately for Rorie. Some of the boys tried to pick on him, it was true, but he just ignored them. If you looked closely enough, you might be able to see that he was riled up, but only if you knew him well. He kept his anger close and in check. He could always exact revenge later if he still thought they were worth it.

Rorie was taunted mercilessly though, since she reacted a little volatiley to the whole thing. The second someone had insinuated that her rich daddy bought her spot, she was spitting words that were dangerously close to obscenities, a seething pot ready to boil over. Jason had swept in several times that day to save her when it looked like she might not be able to control herself. In thanks, she gave him his sunglasses back.

Now, Rorie was sitting in the library, the only place where people would leave her alone, it seemed. She was reading through Jane Eyre again, trying to distract herself from the snake’s nest of anxiety, self-doubt, and bitter, petty rage boiling in her head. It wasn’t working that well.

It worked less well when Amanda Bixby sat next to her. Rorie didn’t dislike Amanda particularly, but she also didn’t particularly like her. Amanda was...Well, Amanda was a bit of an airhead. She didn’t mean to be, but she just happened to be that one girl that never thought about anything but makeup and boys. There was nothing particularly wrong with this mindset, but it simply didn’t mesh with Rorie’s more practical attitude.

“So, Jason’s like, your brother, right?” Amanda said, her tone friendly yet suspiciously slimy sounding to Rorie.

“Yeah, I guess. More of a best friend, really.” Rorie shrugged.

“But you’re super close, yeah?” Amanda confirmed.

“Well yeah. We live in the same house.” Rorie didn’t feel it necessary to mention that they had shared a bathroom until last year when she had demanded Bruce let her have her own.

Rorie was prepared for a plethora of things. Amanda was into theater, so it was entirely possible that she was hoping Rorie would be able to share some of Jason’s acting secrets with her. Or, it could be that she needed help with her English homework, something Jason also excelled in. As it turned out, Rorie was woefully unprepared for what actually happened.

“So what kind of girl does he usually go for?” Amanda asked.

Rorie choked a little bit. “What?”

“Like, does he have a type?” She twirled a strand of long brown hair around her finger.

“Umm….I don’t really know. He doesn’t talk to me about girls,” Rorie said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but I mean, you’ve got to know something about his girlfriends. Are they tall? Short? Blondes, brunettes? C’mon, gimme something here,” Amanda said.

In truth, Rorie was unsure that Jason had ever even had a girlfriend. He was only 15 after all. 15 was a bit young for a girlfriend, wasn’t it? Rorie felt like 15 was young.

“Why do you ask? I mean, it’s not like Jason’s particularly attractive or anything.” Rorie laughed nervously.

“Are you kidding me? He’s a total dreamboat. All the girls know it. Plus, have you ever seen his arms when he takes off that leather jacket?” Amanda bit her lip in a way that Rorie definitely did not like. “I bet he’s ripped. Not to mention that he’s tall. And he’s only going to get taller you know.”

Amanda was clearly not in the building anymore. Her eyes had glazed over dreamily, and Rorie took that as her cue to be anywhere but where she presently was. Sneakily, she made her escape, mumbling under her breath about some urgent play preparation she had to do.

Rorie raced out of the library so fast it was almost superhuman, forgetting to put her sunglasses back on as she went. They were perched on top of her head when she crashed into someone, causing them to clatter to the floor, and her to nearly follow. Fortunately for her, someone had good reflexes and caught her, a warm, firm hand holding her back and pressing her against a lean, muscular torso.

“I am so sorry, you have no idea how mortified I am, rea-” Rorie stopped short when she realized that the person who was holding her was rather familiar.

She pulled back, peering into their face to find none other than Jason Todd himself. Rorie wanted to say “speak of the devil,” but she was a bit distracted at the moment, because at it turned out, it would seem that Amanda Bixby was right. Jason Todd was a dreamboat.Rorie was unsure how she hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t like anything had significantly changed between now and an hour again, when Rorie had last seen Jason. However, now that it had been mentioned to her, he had very nice, well-defined cheekbones, a strong jaw, incredibly long black lashes, and the prettiest pair of blue eyes Rorie had ever seen in her life. She swallowed heavily as she realized that, prior to knowing who was holding her up, she had been appreciating their toned body structure as well.

“Careful there, Rorie. You’ll get hurt.” Jason smiled at her, revealing a blinding white set of perfectly straight teeth that seemed intent on sinking themselves into Rorie’s heart.

Oh no. Oh no.

Opening night had finally come, and Jason was bouncing around with excitement. He had no reason to worry. He had done this dozens of times before, and he had every confidence in his leading lady.

He was watching her right now, mumbling her lines under her breath and coughing as hairspray was applied rigorously to her carefully created Shakespearean hair.

“Oh, Romeo, oh Romeo,” Rorie said, rocking back and forth slightly, to the deep consternation of the girl working on her hair.

“Actually,” Jason said, watching himself appear in the mirror behind her, already in full costume, hair done, “it’s ‘Oh Romeo, Romeo’.”

“I’m gonna fail. I’m gonna fail in front of everyone, and they’ll all laugh, and this will be the end of my acting career, and I’ll have to switch schools.” Her eyes, previously closed, snapped open. “I’ll have to switch schools Jason. I’ll have to go to a boarding school in Scandinavia where nobody knows my name.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jason reassured her, placing both his hands on her shoulders and shooing the irate amateur hairdresser off.

“But what if I’m not?” Rorie asked desperately.

“Then I’ll fail even more epically. I’ll say lines from Napoleon Dynamite instead, and then I’ll trip and fall on my face, and then I’ll roll over and start making snow angels, except there will be no snow, at which point I will have made my first mistake as it is obvious that one cannot make snow angels without no snow.”

“That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Rorie dead-panned.

“See! It works!” Jason grinned broadly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Rorie, on her part, tried to look slightly less miserable.

“You’re on in 5,” someone informed him as they passed by.

Rorie gave him an unsure look, seeking a few last moments of reassurance.

Jason walked around until he was facing her, crouching so he could look her right in the eye. “You’re gonna be great, don’t worry.”

He smoothed down a few stray pieces of her hair, giving her one last strong, certain smile before heading to the wings. It was showtime.

Acts 1-4 went flawlessly. Despite her nerves, Rorie was a natural on stage. She sounded like Shakespeare had written her himself, and Jason was matching her ever move. They were a perfect pair, naturally, and they had the kind of trust most lead actors could probably only wish for. This came as a package deal with the many shared near-death experiences.

It was Act 5 where things began to get sticky. Specifically, the death scene. Everything had been going fun. They had rehearsed this scene in bits and pieces plenty of times before, and everything was timed perfectly. The grief they portrayed was stunningly believable, the laboured breaths and the hasty tears working together to paint a picture of gut-wrenching agony. Jason had caught a glimpse of Dick crying in the audience.

Specifically, it was Act 5, scene 3, line 125 that was giving Jason a good deal of trouble. He had said all the lines leading up to it, and now he found himself agonizingly close to a “dead” Rorie with the task of kissing her.

He had known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he would have to kiss her for this performance. Maybe some tiny part of him had even looked forward to it, entirely without his knowledge or consent. They hadn’t practiced this particular scene, however, and Jason had conveniently forgotten about it until now. Or rather, he had been making a conscious effort not to think about it at all.

He hovered over her, his mouth inches away from hers. She was so warm underneath him, hair splayed out and hands neatly folded over her stomach, eyes lightly shut. Jason tried to steady his heart rate, failing miserably, and after running through a plethora of alternative scenarios in his mind, each more wild than the last, he determined that he would just have to do it. If she hated him afterwards, there was nothing he could do about it.

Gently, he connected their lips. It was like a revival. Her lips were soft and warm against his, and she tasted like oranges and cinnamon. Her body, almost unconsciously, craned into him, kissing back so softly and subtly that the audience couldn’t have noticed, but Jason most definitely did. Without thinking, one hand reached into her hair, cradling her head as he kissed her like Romeo would kiss Juliet, like a man would kiss his lover with his last dying breath, slightly clumsy, but intimate and gentle, with a fervor Mrs. Dowly had probably not foreseen.

He broke away, rushing through his poison scene and dying as quickly as possible. It felt fitting, since he was pretty sure he was already dead. Then, it was Rorie’s turn. What she did next was not entirely expected.

She worked her way through her lines with an untold urgency, weeping at the sight of her Romeo lying dead below her. Her performance was like nothing Gotham Academy had ever seen before, as emotionally charged as it was. And then, he broke from script. She kissed Jason.

It was similar to the first time, but less clumsy, and Jason nearly broke character out of sheer shock. He didn’t have the time though, with the brevity of the kiss. It was hard and fast, and then she stabbing herself with a fake knife as ripples of surprise waved through the audience.

The last few scenes were played out, and everyone took their final bows. Jason could see Dick sobbing at this point, overcome by emotion. Jason felt similarly overcome, unsure of what exactly had just happened. He rushed his way backstage, finding Rorie in the mess that was the closing of opening night. He grabbed her arm, whirling her around.

“Rorie,” he breathed out her name, still stunned even now.

She turned pink, staring at her feet as she answered. “Yes.”

“You kissed me,” he stated.

“You kissed me first.”

“On script,” he said.

“Are you mad?” Now she looked up at him, twinges of hurt flecking her eyes and accenting an ocean of bright green worry and fear.

“Am I mad? No, I’m definitely no mad.” Now, Jason grinned. He grinned like a fool. “Just wondering if you’ll do it again.”

Rorie smiled shyly, starting to look as giddy as Jason now felt.“At least buy me dinner first,” she said, mischief in her eyes and tugging at her mouth as she shrugged in feigned nonchalance.

“I’m pretty sure dinner is on Bruce tonight, but if you think I’m not going to buy you dinner at the next available opportunity then you are very, very wrong,” Jason said.

Rorie laughed, reaching up to hug him in his favorite way, the only way he ever wanted to be hugged by her ever again.

“Deal, boy wonder,” she whispered in his ear.

Dinner was awkward. Dinner way very, very awkward.

It wasn’t that Bruce disapproved, after the two stumbled through an explanation of their budding relationship. It wasn’t that Alfred disapproved, or Dick, even. No. Horrifyingly, they were all delighted.

“What do you mean you knew?” Jason and Rorie shrieked in unison.

Bruce tried to bring the table back to some form of decorum, since Dick’s exclamation of, “I knew it!” and small victory dance coupled with Rorie and Jason’s indignant screams was slightly out of place in one of Gotham’s nicest restaurants.

“I mean, it was obvious. You two are always all blushy and cutesy around each other whenever I come over,” Dick explained, cutting into his steak.

“We are not!” Rorie protested, burying her face into her bouquet of brilliant red roses, of which it had turned the same hue.

Jason in turn felt like burying his face into the orchids he was currently holding for her, a gift from Dick. The roses were from Bruce, of course. Alfred had simply baked cookies back at home.

“I’m afraid you are, miss. It’s rather endearing, if it’s any comfort to you,” Alfred reassured.

“This is so embarrassing. You all knew?” Rorie said.

“And now the whole school knows, after that display.” Dick grinned. “You two got so lucky Mrs. Dowly didn’t tear you to pieces.”

As it happened, Mrs. Dowly had rather liked the show. She said that Rorie’s improv had been so impassioned Shakespeare should have written it into the original. Rorie had wilted into the very bottoms of her shoes, looking as though she were trying her best to melt into the floor.

A waiter came by to check on them as they were finishing up, Dick shoveling the last bites of his steak into his mouth.

“Any dessert?” he asked politely, no doubt with good intentions.

“No!” Jason and Rorie shouted.

The last thing they wanted was more awkward dinner conversation.

“It would seem not,” Bruce said, smiling his, “people are watching,” smile. “We’ll just have the bill.”

“Yes, sir.” The waiter ran off to retrieve the bill, leaving Jason and Rorie to suffer once more.

“So how long had you been thinking about that kiss scene, huh Jay?” Dick asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Jason groaned, his face turning red in that full-flush way that he had about him. Rorie, on the other hand, decided to change tactics. If you can’t beat’em, join’em.

“You know, it’s kind of cute when you do that,” she said.

“What?” Jason asked, confused and slightly alarmed.

“Blush. You do it with your whole head. Neck, face, ears. It’s cute.” Rorie shrugged, trying to hide her own blush.

“Ewww, this is officially too sweet for me now,” Dick said, feigning a gag.

“Please Dick, try to behave like an adult,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The waiter came by and Bruce quickly paid in cash, clearly having come prepared for an outing with his children. Rorie could only guess how enormous the tip was.

“Alfred?” Bruce said, raising his eyebrows as he looked at the man.

“I have already informed the valet that the car is to be brought around, sir,” Alfred said.

“Thank goodness, because I could use a good night’s sleep,” Bruce said.

Rorie and Jason grinned at each other. Bruce Wayne might get 8 hours, but his alter ego never did. It was time for the Bat to roam the streets of Gotham, Robin and Batgirl at his side. It was time to be a hero.

#jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x oc #scar tissue #batman #batfam #gotham #batfamily

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cubistemoji · 6 years

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thank u @iceandbrimstone for the tag!!

1) How many works in progress to do you currently have in progress?

2 that I’ve more or less abandoned forever (rip in pieces) and one that I started outlining and then decided to shelve until after I’m done w/school for the year and then another thing I was gonna do for the april camp nanowrimo this year but then just. didn’t. I might try to get that done over the summer too

2) Do you/would you write fan fiction?

not only do I write fanfiction I wrote an article about how great fanfiction is for my school paper a few weeks ago (and snuck in a reference to some of my favorite hq fics in the process lmao)

in addition to fic I also write articles and reviews for my school’s online newspaper, and comics! I write original fiction once in a blue moon too. I’m taking a class on fiction writing next fall so excited to do more original work for that lol

3) Do you prefer paper books or ebooks?

I used to always go for paper books and I like the sensation of reading a physical book but it is so. much. easier to just pull up a tab on ao3 or download a pdf and scroll through it

can’t get an autographed annotated ebook tho

4) When did you start writing?

I wrote a picture book for class in second grade and then discovered fanfiction on the scholastic dot com kid’s forum’s harry potter board when I was ten and it was like “you mean I can...MAKE UP STUFF...THAT HAPPENS...TO THE HARRY POTTER CHARACTERS???” so yeah I wrote some. embarrassing but decently-spelled and punctuated nextgen fic in those years

a few months ago I got an email notification that someone subscribed to my fanfiction dot net harry potter fic that has not been updated since 2011 and it was embarrassing

5) Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

my friends! special shout-out to @raspberrymint-is-mint for letting me drag her to barnes and noble to cry about my fanfic for a thing she hasn’t even seen or read bc at that point I had zero haikyuu fic friends and anjali’s been my writer friend since like 6th grade and is the person I trust the most from a writing standpoint also @kenmagoesblep and connie who doesn’t have a tumblr

and @flashcotton, obviously, even tho they don’t read everything I write

6) Where is your favourite place to write?

on my laptop at my desk tho one time I wrote like 1500 words on my tablet pc during a 2-hour shinkansen ride from kyoto to tokyo. good times

7) Favourite childhood book?

the mysterious benedict society trilogy in english and either alisa or tanya grotter in russian

8) Writing for fun or writing for publication?

validation, mostly. I’m interested in writing for comics in the future maybe though

9) Pen and paper or computer?

computer please and thank you

10) Have you ever taken any writing classes?

once at nerd camp when I was 12 (it was about analyzing mystery suspense and horror in literature and film but we also wrote stuff for the class and everyone liked my things a lot for some reason)

11) What inspires you to write?

a lot of the time it’s “spite” or “well if no one else is gonna make this content I guess I just have to make it my own damn self” but also “I need to process these feelings somehow” like uhhh that richard siken quote: “I want to tell you this story without having to be in it” that’s where these two fics mostly came from I needed to tell everyone about my feelings by projecting those feelings onto some fictional volleyball boys normally my idea process is like: I have an idea, and then I think of character dynamics I like that can go with it, and then I start writing until the idea isn’t taking up 90% of my brainspace at all times

this was kind of incoherent sorry

tagging @kenmagoesblep and @ingthing @kon-centration even tho idk if you still check tumblr nowadays

#ask games #tag games #writing #wow!

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emmaswanchoosesyou · 6 years

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CSBB: Part of the Narrative (13/17)

Emma Swan just wants to write the follow-up to her bestselling debut novel, that’s all. But when she gets off to a rough start with her new editor, Killian Jones, she knows it’s not going according to plan. Then, an unexpected figure from Emma’s past reappears and life begins to mirror the crime thriller she’s penning. Suspicion and secrets abound–but love might too. A writer/editor AU with a thriller twist.

Rated E. Includes sexual content, kidnapping, some gore, mild violence, and minor character death–not to mention salty language! On Ao3 here.

Chapter warnings: Tempers running high, arrests and interrogations, and...mild attempted assault?

I made it halfway across the country! So thank you to everyone who offered well wishes. And thank you so much to all of you who have been reading and commenting and waiting patiently after last week’s cliffhanger, and to all of you who helped me get here. Thank you to all the wonderful ladies at @captainswanbigbang for all you’ve done to make this possible, and all the support you’ve given. Sophie @shady-swan-jones made the delightful banner and another photoset that I adore. Kayla @bleebug did some incredible art for the first and sixth chapters, which you can check out here and here. And all the love and thanks to Kris @sambethe for beta-ing this and making it a ton better. Like seriously, she’s the best.

[Ch. 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

Chapter 13

Stories converge as everyone tries to find out what happened to Henry.

Killian

Killian was sitting with Robin in his living room, watching a film that if asked about it later, he’d never remember. They’d been at it for the better part of the afternoon, though they’d been limiting their drinking. Something about rousing Killian from an alcoholic funk after a week of nonstop drinking had put them off it.

He heard his phone ring with the custom tone he’d set for Emma, and he smiled. She was getting back from Maine, and maybe they could grab dinner…

“Emma, how are y--”

She cut him off abruptly. “Killian, Henry is missing.”

He gasped, “What the hell?”

“Will you meet me at Granny’s? I need to sit and talk with someone. Distract me?”

Frowning at the urgency in her voice, he nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Of course. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. Robin is with me--do you want me to bring him along as well?”

“No. I mean, I want to meet him, but not now, I--I just want to see you,” she said.

His chest constricted, knowing he didn't have time to process the warmth coursing through him at her inadvertent admission. But first, they had to focus on Henry's disappearance. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

They hung up, and Killian was giving Robin a quick run-down of the situation, what he knew of it, at least, while he waited for his cab.

As Robin was listening, his phone started buzzing, some kind of notification clearly coming in from his precinct. He made a face, both surprise and speculation visible before he schooled his features. "And I just got a call to go in, about a disappearance and possible kidnapping."

"Do you think..." Killian let his question trail off, unwilling to put words to his thoughts.

Robin shrugged. "I don't know. It's not good, either way."

As soon as Robin was gone, he pulled on his coat and went outside to meet the Uber waiting for him.

&&&

After a short ride filled with terse conversation with his driver, Killian finally pulled up to Granny's. Emma's car was in the lot, and he gave a sigh of relief at seeing her yellow monstrosity.

He made his way inside to find her sitting in a corner booth, Belle and Ruby across from her. She looked up, saw him approaching, and ran to him. She threw herself into his arms, a startled "oomph" escaping him as she barreled into him and he wrapped her in his embrace.

He stroked her hair, meeting Ruby's eyes. She shrugged and took Belle's hand in hers, both women somber and focused on Emma.

She finally extracted herself from his arms, though she let him take her hand. She squeezed it quickly, pulling him over to the booth and dragging him down next to her.

"So, what happened?" he asked.

Emma shook her head. She dropped his hand, rubbing at her red-rimmed eyes with both hands. "I have no idea. I dropped him off at Regina's and drove back. I stopped for a little while to take a nap, and Regina called me when I was near the city again, which is when I called you."

"I'm glad you did, love," he said. "Do you--does anyone know anything further? What steps are being taken to find him? Forgive me for asking, but is it possible he just ran down to the comic book shop or to the ice cream shop?"

Belle looked at him, aghast, and Ruby squawked loudly, but Emma waved aside their protests. "No, he's right. Those are reasonable questions. But yeah, I did ask Regina, and they can't find him anywhere in town. Apparently they had one of the cops comb over the whole place, and no one had seen him since about fifteen minutes after I dropped him off."

"What could possibly have happened in fifteen minutes?" Killian asked incredulously.

She shrugged. "I have no idea. Apparently he and Regina said a quick hello, but she had to finish up some paperwork, so she told him to go ahead on over to the comic book shop. But he never showed up, according to Doc Enano, the owner of the shop."

He didn't know what to say or what he could do, but he wrapped his arm around Emma. She leaned into him, resting a hand on his thigh. He might not be able to do much, but he could be there for his Swan. Even if he wouldn't chance calling her that at this juncture.

Ruby stood and went to the kitchen, informing them she was getting them all some coffee. His stomach rebelled at the idea of adding caffeine to his system when he was already so wired, but he murmured his thanks anyway. He didn't foresee sleep coming to any of them until Henry was found, so it would be fine.

The silence that had settled over their little group was disrupted when the bell over the door rang. When they looked up, they found it wasn’t new customers--it was the police. They didn't acknowledge Ruby's nod as she made her way back to their booth, even as they came closer.

Shock coursed through Killian when he saw that one of the officers was Robin, in plain clothes and with his jaw clenched. They stopped at the table, and Robin stepped forward.

Regret tinging his voice, he asked, "Which one of you is Emma Swan?"

"I am," she said, leaning past Killian. He felt dread settling into his bones, fear twisting at his stomach as he held Emma and looked up at Robin.

"I really didn't want to meet you this way," he said, grimacing. "But alas. Miss Swan, I'm placing you under arrest on suspicion of the kidnapping and disappearance of Henry Mills. You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Killian was halfway up and ready to punch Robin when he felt Emma and Belle pulling him back.

"Don't, Killian. Just call Cleo. She'll get my lawyer," she said, her face having slipped into a blank mask. She squeezed his shoulder as she slid past him, and his heart stuttered.

Robin looked apologetic. "I… we can make this easy. I have to cuff you, but we'll just go back to the precinct and talk. I'll do what I can to make this easier for you."

Emma just nodded, saying nothing.

Killian's jaw clenched, and he glared at Robin. Belle patted his arm and motioned to his phone as he watched his friend walk away with the woman he had just realized he loved in police custody.

&&&

After what felt like an obscene number of hours later, Killian sat in the waiting room at the precinct. Cleo was next to him, her arms folded over her chest as they waited for an update on Emma's status.

He had called Cleo as soon as Robin and his fellow officers had accompanied Emma out of the diner. She'd answered quickly, her horror and disgust evident in every short syllable she'd uttered. She had kept their conversation brief, but told him she'd come by to pick him up as soon as she got Emma's lawyer on the line.

Her lawyer was a statuesque, intimidating woman with an icy demeanor and cutting, dry wit. He was told Kathryn Frederickson had a reputation for getting shit done, and for getting her defendants acquitted. She was a former Assistant DA who had recently struck out on her own, and apparently she had agreed to represent Emma as a favor to Cleo.

Kathryn had gone inside the room where Emma was being questioned, but that had been hours ago. Killian was hungry, grumpy, worried, and angry. As though she'd heard his internal rant, Cleo unfolded her arms and reached inside her bag, grabbing a bag of crisps that she passed over to him.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his foot tapping on the scuffed floor.

She nodded and finally spoke, "No problem. With any luck, it won't be much longer. They can technically hold her for up to twenty-four hours, but I can't imagine they'll find anything to make the charges stick."

"Emma hasn't been charged with anything," said Kathryn, her heels clacking as she made her way toward them. "She'll be out soon."

He could have wept with relief. "So she's off? They know it wasn't her?"

"I might have pointed out Emma's stellar alibi, in the form of all those cameras along the interstate. Fortunately, she's pretty hard to miss in that yellow Bug. It was just a matter of waiting for the footage," Kathryn explained, a slight smile twisting her mouth.

Cleo smiled. "Thanks," she said. Then her smile faded. "Wait, what does this mean for Henry?"

Kathryn grimaced. "Unfortunately, since they thought Emma was behind the kidnapping, they weren't exactly looking for anyone else for the last few hours. So whoever is behind Henry's disappearance has a couple more hours lead."

"Shit," Killian swore.

Then he saw Emma coming from the back, and he leapt up to go to her. He halted as soon as he saw Robin walking beside her, the two of them in close conversation. He tried to push down the rage bubbling inside him, knowing there was nothing to be gained from confronting Robin in his own precinct.

As they got closer, he could finally make out their conversation. "...so sorry. But I had to do due diligence, regardless of my personal feelings," Robin said.

"I get it. It's fine. And maybe we can have a do-over once Killian cools down," Emma said, her eyes drifting over to meet Killian's. She smiled softly, even though it was obvious she was tired and strained.

He smiled back and opened his arms to her. As soon as he felt her arms wrap around his waist, he felt his anger begin to ebb away. His shoulders slumped with relief and in the absence of the rage that had been fueling him, keeping him awake, he felt his own tiredness creep over his limbs.

Robin patted his shoulder. "Killian… I'm sorry."

He took a deep breath, waiting for the negative emotions to return and a sharp retort to rise to his lips. None did. "If Emma's good with you, then so am I."

Robin nodded before also drawing in a breath. "Well, now it's time to get to work."

Emma squeezed his waist, turning in his arms to face Robin. "Let's go find my son."

&&&

They ended up going to Emma’s to grab a few hours of sleep. There was nothing to be gained by staying at the precinct, Robin informed them, other than aching backs that they were too old to deal with. He promised to call as soon as they had any new information or leads.

Emma tried calling Regina, but it went straight to voicemail. That sealed the deal for her--Emma finally agreed to go home for a while, at least until morning. Killian hesitated for a moment, but then Emma dragged him down the steps and into a cab.

Killian was happy to be needed, or even just wanted by her.

So it was without much fanfare that he allowed himself to be pulled into her apartment. They didn't exchange much conversation as they prepared for bed--she found a spare toothbrush for him, and he said he'd make do with sleeping in his boxer briefs. It was less than thirty minutes after they arrived that they were in bed, their limbs tangled together. He brushed a kiss across her lips, and she bid him goodnight.

He awoke with a start about three hours later when he heard a banging on the door. Emma startled awake too, sitting up quickly. She pulled on a robe over her pajamas and rubbed her eyes before heading to the living room to answer the door.

Killian swung his legs over the side of the bed, hoping his jeans and button-up weren't too mussed from the previous day. He joined Emma where she was paused before the door, a panicked but hopeful look on her face.

"It's Regina," she whispered, eyes wide.

He shrugged, not knowing why she might be here.

Emma took a deep breath and opened the door. "Regina? Has there been any word?"

Regina didn't answer. Instead, she burst into the room, tearing toward the back. "Where is he?! Where is my son?! Tell me where you're hiding him."

Killian felt the rage kindle in his chest again. How dare she come into Swan's home and accuse her of--

He let go of his anger as soon as he saw Emma's face. Instead of the anger he had been expecting to see, he saw compassion and sadness (and surprise, but that was understandable).

"Regina, he's not here. I don't have him. I've been waiting to hear more updates, just like you," she said quietly, as soothingly as she could probably manage.

Regina came at Emma, fists flying, clearly not wanting to listen to Emma.

Emma halted her by grabbing her wrists firmly, shaking her lightly. "Regina. I. Do. Not. Have. Him. We're on the same side here."

Regina stopped, her face crumpling. Tears streaked down her face, and she collapsed into Emma's arms. Emma dropped her wrists and pulled her into a hug. "Shhh, shh. Let it out."

She continued to sob, and Killian began to feel superfluous and awkward. He made his way into the kitchen and started to prepare more coffee. It looked like this would be a long day.

Adding some chocolate and cinnamon to Emma's, he topped it with whipped cream. Peeking his head out of the kitchen, he asked, "Regina, how do you take your coffee?"

He heard a sniffle, and then a hoarse response. "Black, but with whipped cream, if you have it?"

"Done," he said, preparing her beverage and then his own. He carried them out to the living room, where Swan had pulled Regina onto the couch next to her. Both women's eyes were rimmed in red, both clearly exhausted. Regina had the remnants of her mascara tracked down her face, and Emma's hair was mussed beyond repair.

After a few more moments of silence, during which they all drank deeply of their coffee, Emma finally spoke. "I tried calling you last night before going to bed, but it went to voicemail. I haven't heard anything since then, have you?"

Regina's hands twitched and she looked down at them. "No. I--I thought it was you. I thought you were lying, and that you had taken him. You two have gotten so much closer..."

"...that you thought I'd taken him somehow when I left," she said, looking thoughtful.

"I--yes. I'm sorry," Regina said quietly.

Emma shook her head. "No, don't worry about that. I--well, it wasn't that long ago that I thought you might be up to something. You know, with Henry talking about feeling like he was being followed--" She stopped mid-sentence, and Regina, Emma, and Killian all stared at each other dumbfounded.

"Did you say anything about that to the detectives?" Emma asked.

Regina licked her lips, her eyes wide with fear and self-recrimination for having forgotten. Killian could recognize the look, having experienced it pretty regularly himself. "No. I didn't even think --did you?"

"No."

"Do you want me to call Robin?" he asked, already reaching for his phone.

"Please," Emma said hurriedly.

As he found Robin in his contacts, he heard Regina ask, "Who's Robin?"

"A friend of Killian's who happens to be the lead detective in Boston for the case. I think he's working with someone in Maine," Emma replied.

"Yes, Sheriff Jameson. He's from Storybrooke, though he works in Augusta now, but he'd be in charge. He's a good man, and a good detective."

Emma smiled. "That's good. Are you…are we going to be okay? For Henry?"

"I think so. Wait, you really thought it was me?" Regina blurted.

She shrugged. "Maybe? It wasn't the most rational time for me. Henry had just come back into my life, and you didn't seem thrilled, and then everything happened with Killian..."

Regina snorted. "I wasn't happy about it because I thought I'd lose Henry, that he wouldn't want me anymore with you in his life. Your life is more glamorous, and you have Jones here--and by the way, I thought you two were done?--and I was jealous. Henry is all I have," she said, her voice breaking.

"I promise it isn't as glamorous as it seems. And Killian and I aren't back together. Not exactly," Emma said.

Killian looked over at her as he waited for Robin to pick up, a small, sad smile on his face.

Emma continued, “Besides, I think Henry would want us to work together. He loves you, and I could never replace you. Nor would I want to. We...we could both be his family.”

Regina sat silently, a thoughtful, contemplative look on her face. She nodded.

Finally, Robin answered his phone.

"Killian? Do you have something?"

"Robin, mate. Aye, we have something. I'm here with Emma and Regina, and they've remembered something."

Robin cursed. "Shit, tell me. And I'll be over as soon as I can, if it's not too much of an imposition."

"Should be fine, especially if you bring pastries. Thank you. I'm putting you on speaker, since Regina and Emma will be able to do a better job with the information than I can," he said.

"Robin? Hey. So Henry has told both me and Regina over the last few months that he’s felt like someone is following him. I looked into it a little when he first mentioned it, but I didn't find much," Emma said.

Regina leaned over. "I looked into it too when it first started, but nothing came up. And occasionally we go see a therapist. Henry does have anxiety, so I thought it might just be that. I didn't know."

"It'll be fine, Ms. Mills, Ms. Swan. We'll do our best to see to it that this gets sorted," Robin's voice crackled through. "Let me pass this onto a couple of the other detectives, and then I'll head on over to you. See you in about 45 minutes?"

They all murmured their assent and bid Robin farewell. They sat quietly, finishing up their coffee. As soon as they were done, Regina went to the restroom to freshen up, and he and Emma went into the bedroom to get dressed.

"You okay, love?" he asked.

Emma sighed. "Henry's gone, and I'm tired and stressed, so..."

"Yeah," he agreed.

He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. She leaned back into him and reached up into squeeze his hand. "Thank you for being here."

He kissed her cheek. "I'll be here for as long as you want me to be."

&&&

By the time Robin showed up, Regina looked as composed as usual, if more tense and on-edge. Emma still looked in need of a good night’s sleep, but was otherwise lovely in a flowery tunic and leggings. Killian knew he was a mess in yesterday’s clothes, but he’d at least been able to wash his face and brush his teeth.

When Robin arrived at the door, Emma let him in. He came bearing a box of pastries, and Killian chuckled at Emma’s jibe about cops and donuts. “It’s actually scones!”

Killian nodded, and then decided to get matters rolling. “Well, you’ve met Emma, but this is Regina Mills, Henry’s other mother. She’s also the founder of Mills & Booth Publishing.”

“And the heir to Regal Hearts Publishing,” chimed in Emma helpfully.

Regina rolled her eyes, looking as imperious as ever. “Robin, was it? Or do you prefer Detective…?”

“Detective Locksley, but Robin is fine,” he said, his eyes riveted on Regina.

She gave him an assessing look, but quickly turned back to the matter at hand. “So, can you help with Henry? Are you working with Sheriff Jameson up in Maine? What kind of news do you have?”

Any admiration Robin may have been feeling was subsumed into the professional mask he donned. “Our office has been working with Sheriff Jameson and other local law enforcement. In fact, while I’ll remain on the case with a few of my people, it will be falling under the jurisdiction of Maine’s police service. With Ms. Swan being cleared, there isn’t much to suggest Henry would be in Boston.”

“What happens if this goes on much longer? I mean, once it’s been 24 hours…” Emma let her words trail off, knowing they all knew the increased risks to Henry at that point.

“That’s true, but we’re hopeful. We found some signs of a struggle near a path in Storybrooke, one Henry would have to pass by to get to the comic book shop, which fairly well eliminates any chance of him having run away. It’s a solid lead that’s being pursued even as we speak.”

Killian fought the urge to curse, as that likely wouldn’t help. Henry running away would be bad, but at some point he’d likely want to come home. Kidnapping, on other hand, offered no such likelihoods.

“So what do we do now, Detective? I don’t think any of us just wants to sit around and wait for word,” Regina said, the urgency in her voice lost on none of them.

Robin nodded, and his face twisted wryly. “I know it’s a difficult situation. My advice is to head back to Storybrooke. I have a feeling Henry’s still there somewhere. I know you just got here, Ms. Mills, but…”

“No, it’s fine. If it’s the best thing to do…”

“...then we’ll do it,” finished Emma.

#cs ff #captain swan #csbb #cs au #cs mc ff #captain swan fanfic #part of the narrative #amber writes #would you believe that there are no italics this chapter?!#it shocked me too

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