#ahh the sheer imagination in this book

[crazyyanderefangirlfan]

Secret

“I hate this."

"We ALL hate this, Narancia." Fugo sighed.

Indeed they do. They just received orders that they had to team up with La Squadra Esecuzioni to eliminate a rogue stand user. La squadra are the black sheep of Passione, a team of hitmen that were known for their ruthlessness and unapproachable image. You can imagine the sheer reluctance the Bucci gang were feeling but couldn’t do anything about it.

“Nothing good comes with them.” Leone sneered as he drank his wine.

“It’s just one mission. It will be over before you know it.” Bruno promised.

He and his team were waiting in the Libeccio in their usual table but added two more and a few chairs. He spoke to Risotto beforehand and asked to have a team meeting here.

“Signore Bucciarati.” One of the waiters called. “Your guests are here.”

“Ahh, please escort them here.” The waiter bowed and left.

A few minutes later La Squadra Esecuzioni walked in. He and his team walked in and sat on the opposite table. It was completely silent at first with both teams glaring at each other, after a few more minutes Bruno cleared his throat.

“I believe we have a few matters to discuss.” —-------------------------------

The Bucci gang were driving to the meet-up point, just outside the ruins of Pompeii. During the meeting there were some arguments and some threats passed around but it ultimately got quiet from both the stern voices of their respective leaders.

They spotted a red car in the distance, moving closer they saw the entirety of La Squadra. They parked next to them.

“I still don’t get why they need so many people for this job.” Mista commented.

“If you paid attention to the fucking meeting, you know that several groups of people were already sent to him and died! Not to mention we don’t even know his fucking ability!” Ghiaccio heatedly reminded him.

“But of course you need the best team to be with you.” Illuso added with a smirk.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY!?”

Illuso was taken aback when Narancia tackled him and pulled a flipper knife to his neck.

“What the fuck make you assholes better!” He sneered at him and dug his knife deeper. Suddenly he was lifted up and pinned to the ground, the younger man craned his head to the culprit.

Gelato grinned down at him deviously, he pressed his knee harder on his back making him cry out in pain.

“What makes us better? For one thing, we have far more experience in the mafia than any of you combined.” Sorbet answered, he pressed his foot on Narancia’s head. By this point the teen was thrashing around to get the couple off him.

“YOU BASTARD!” Fugo tried to attack but was quickly apprehended by Sorbet and placed in a headlocked. The ice cream couple snickered at the sight of the two struggling teens.

“Let them go.”

The deep timbre of Risotto’s voice had the couple stop and let them in seconds. Mista was helping the teens on their feet, the three of them were scowling at the duo.

“It’s useless to fight one another, we have a mission.”

“He’s right, just focus on what we need to do.”

Three calmed down but wouldn't stop scowling at the Sorbet and Gelato.

They all made their way into the ruins, each of them was on high alert. Narancia already summoned Aerosmith and began to scout the area, unfortunately besides them there was nobody else in the area. Bruno instructed him to expand the search area, after a few more minutes there was still none. Drawing the conclusion the user is either not there or uses a long-distance stand.

Mista was already getting sick of this. The intel they were given was bullshit, I mean who would come here in all places!?

They all paused and tried to discuss where the enemy was, he was a bit far away so he could only hear bits of the conversation.

A glint caught his eyes, he turned back to everyone else. Still in discussion. Slowly he approached the area, when he got closer he saw it.

It was a book, specifically a diary. It was red with a gold lock that was unopened. He picked it up.

“Mista, what is that?” Bruno’s voice called out to him.

The gunslinger turned his head around and saw everyone looking at him. He jogged back to the group.

“Umm, someone left their diary.” He held it up for emphasis.

“Why would anyone leave it here?” Leone pointed out, glaring at the small book.

“Maybe some tourist accidentally left it?” Pesci suggested.

“Who the fuck cares about some stupid book!? In case you all forgot, we still have someone to kill!” Ghiaccio screamed. Mistabacked away from and finally held the diary in both of his hands.

“Open it.” Narancia egged.

“Let’s see what nasty secrets are there.” Formaggio grinned. Mista returned it.

He flipped it open and a burst of red light knocked them all back, Mista shielded his face and moved in too close but a ghostly face came out and shrieked. He jumped back.

Finally, the face went back to the book and shut itself.

“What the fuck?” Ghiaccio swore and honestly that was on everyone’s mind.

Suddenly the entire hitmen stood straighter. They surveyed the area, brows furrowed and stands ready.

Taking the hint, the Bucci gang did the same, waiting for movement. Narancia cursed as he saw the same thing in his radar.

“So we are dealing with a long rang stand, and from the looks of it, it’s similar to Babyface.” Melone surmised.

Red tendrils burst from the ground and formed a box-like container around them.

“AEROSMITH!”

“WHITE ALBUM!”

“SEX PISTOLS!”

Bullets, ice and punches rained down the cage but not a dent was made, what made it worse was some kind of liquid was filling up the room. They tried again and still nothing.

“Crap! Now what? It doesn’t even look fazed!” Gelato kicked the walls in fury.

“Wait a minute!” Narancia exclaimed. “I saw this before!”

“Where!?”

“I saw this in a cartoon!”

“Then it’s useless!” Prosciutto interrupted, shooting at the walls.

“Let me finish! In the cartoon you have to reveal a secret of your own after that it stops!”

“Like hell I’m telling you stronzos anything!” Ghiaccio retorted, blasting ice around the liquid, stopping it momentarily. His teammates shouted their own agreements.

“Narancia, there’s a reason why it’s a cartoon! Nothing like that happens in real life!” Leone lectured.

A loud crack was heard, the liquid that Ghiaccio froze soon burst and filled the room faster. The bespectacled male tried again but the pressure was stronger.

Narancia recalled Aerosmith and took a deep breath.

“I HAVE ADOPTION PAPERS IN HOPING THAT BUCCIARATI AND ABBACHIO WILL ADOPT ME!”

Everyone whipped their heads to him incredulously while said people looked at him shocked and a bit flattered.

The diary from earlier floated up. When they moved closer they saw words written in it, closer inspection it was Narancia’s confession.

The container flickered and the liquid was flowing slower but not as strong.

“Holy shit that worked.” Sorbet breathed.

The teams shared a look. They’ll hate this but this is the only thing that will help them escape.

“Uh, okay, uh, sometimes, when me and Illuso are supposed to be cleaning out gutters, we go to get coffee instead!” Formaggio revealed.

“And a lot of times, I don't even get coffee! I just don't feel like cleaning out the gutters!” Illuso added.

(Risotto and Prosciutto just looked at two in disappointment, with the blonde muttering they’ll have punishment if they survived.)

Unfortunately it seemed to have an opposite effect as the pressure became much more powerful than before, quickly filling it till the liquid reached their calves.

“What kind of secrets did that cartoon on yours reveal?” Melone asked.

“Really personal ones!”

They all grimaced at the answer.

“ALL RIGHT, I'LL DO IT! I LIKE TO SING ALONG TO REALLY BAD POP MUSIC!” Pesci yelled.

The water rose.

“I WAS THE ONE WHO DRANK ALL THE WINE BACK IN BASE!” Leone revealed.

The water rose faster to the point they had to swim. Mista swam up after having been swept away.

“NARANCIA! REMEMBER WHEN WE ORDERED BEDS FOR OUR ROOM AND YOUR'S NEVER SHOWED UP?! I LIED! I STACKED THEM UP AND I'VE BEEN SLEEPING ON THEM THE WHOLE TIME! I'M SORRY, DUDE, IT'S JUST TOO COMFORTABLE!” Mista revealed.

“Are you serious?” The teen voiced incredulously.

The water drained a bit and the pressure was lowered a bit and it still flowed.

“I THINK NARANCIA LOOKS KISSABLE WHEN HE FOCUSES!” Fugo exposed. The said male blushed and while teammates shared a smirk.

The pressure slowed even more

“I FELL IN LOVE WITH BUCCIARATI/ABBACHIO AT FIRST SIGHT!”

Both males stared at each other in shock with red faces at their own confession. Everyone else snickered.

The water dropped significantly and the diary was getting more and more filled.

At first they sighed in relief but the water pressure came back just as strong.

“GAHH! Risotto! You and your team have to say something!” Bruno yelled.

“AHH! WHEN I WAS LITTLE, I STOLE MY NEIGHBOR'S BIKE AND THREW IT OFF THE ROOF!” Ghiaccio yelled.

The water rose faster.

“SOMETIMES I HIDE PESCI'S SHOES CAUSE I THINK IT'S FUNNY WHEN HE'S LOOKING FOR THEM!” Gelato revealed.

“WE’RE HORRIBLE PEOPLE!” Formaggio stated.

“No shit.” Was the collective thought of the Bucci gang.

Melone: “I LIKED TO USE PROSCIUTTO AND ILLUSO’S HAIR PRODUCTS!”

Proscuitto: “HALF OF MY LUXURY ITEMS ARE FAKE!”

Illuso: “I ACTUALLY LIKE WATCHING THE MOST POPULAR GIRLS IN SCHOOL!”

Pesci: “I HAVE A PLAYLIST OF ALL THE BARBIE SONGS AND SOMETIMES HUM IT WHEN NO ONE IS AROUND!”

Sorbet: “WHENEVER ME AND GELATO USE GHIACCIO’S CAR WE TEND TO FUCK!”

“WHAT!?”

Formaggio: “I LIED ABOUT BEING ON THE FOOTBALL TEAM!”

Risotto: “I SING THE OPERA WHEN I’M IN THE SHOWER AND WHEN NO ONE IS IN BASE!”

It was getting worse, the liquid was rising faster to the point they were near the ceiling and running out of room.

La squadra shared a collective look. It was desperate and honestly felt silly but they had no choice. They inhaled deeply and shouted in chorus.

“WE ALL HAVE A CRUSH ON OUR CIVILIAN BOSS!”

With one last shriek, the stand finally disappeared. The diary was finally filled and shut itself.

The teams marched up to it and summoned their stands.

Attacks rained down on the insufferable book, in the distance they heard a faint scream.

Risotto gave Ghiaccio a look who nodded, summoning White Album he skated off while the rest kept destroying the diary.

Ghiaccio came back with confirmation of the dead stand user, much to everyone’s relief but now that left with the awkwardness in knowing each other’s secrets.

Bruno coughed into his fist.

“So-“

“You heard nothing from us.” The tone Risotto had held was a warning.

He and his team quickly walked away from them, leaving the Bucci gang. After a few more minutes they returned to their car as well.

“I knew it was my mattress.” Narancia piped up. Mista rolled his eyes.

————————-

“I can’t believe we had to share our secrets with La Squadra of all people.”Narancia complained.

“I can’t believe something from your cartoon worked.” Fugo commented.

The Bucci gang were taking a stroll around the area, it was quiet but had some hidden gems.

“But it helped!” The shorter teen grinned. The blonde rolled his eyes.

Narancia pouted, his eyes trailed to one of the shops and saw a particular one selling cookies and cool looking plush. His stomach suddenly growled.

“Bucciarati, can we head into that store? PLEASE? They’re selling cookies and that toy looks so cool!”

The bob-cut male studied the store. The sign read “Dollface” in white words on a pink board with small dolls and plush animals surrounding the letters. It was two-stories and the windows were filled with dolls and plushies, blocking the inside of the store, in the corner were shelves of cookies and a tall fridge of drinks.

“Alright.”

When they walked in however, it wasn’t what they expected.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

The entire Bucci gang gaped at the shocking sight, wondering if they’re dreaming or not.

Behind and around the counter was La Squadra Esecuzioni, all wearing pink uniform shirts with a little doll where their hearts were supposed to be. La squadra looked just as shocked to see them here. The Bucci gang stood there, having the reality sink in place.

The execution team worked in a disgustingly cute toy shop that caters dolls and plushies, wearing pink shirts that looked just as cute.

Pfftt-

“SHUT. UP.” Prosciutto seethed when the other team began to snicker.

Cause really, it was hard not to laugh at the most notorious team being in such a cutesy store.

Mista sank to his knees, his fist pounding on the floor, Fugo turned away and covered his mouth, his body shaking. Naranci let out a fit of giggles, Leone covered his mouth to hide the smirk and Bruno was lightly chuckling at them.

“Never thought I would see you and your team working in such a place.” Bruno admitted. Risotto sighed.

“It was our only option, and the pay is good.”

“By the way.” Mista chimed in, standing back up, wheezing. “Didn’t you guys say you had a crush on your civilian boss?”

He was harsy hushed in return.

“Shut the fuck, do you want her to hear-”

“Oh, hello!~”

La squadra stiffen at the sweet voice, some were even blushing.

The backdoor opened to reveal a short and petite young woman. She had apricot orange back-length hair with two cat ear like buns with two strands frame her face, orchid purple eyes and tawny freckles across her body scattered like constellations. She wore a 50’s styled blue dress with white polka-dots and a halter neckline, on her feet were baby blue ballet lace up flats. She accessorized with pearl studs and a necklace.

The Bruno and his team had to blink a few times to see if she was real.

“Um, hello?” She gave them a sweet bright smile as she waited patiently for them to talk. Yeah, this was real.

“Hello, miss Tira.” Bruno greeted as he read her name tag.

“Umm, I’d like to buy some cookies?” Narancia started.

“Oh! There’s a basket near the front door.” She pointed at the mentioned item. Narancia made a beeline and began to fill it with cookies and drinks. After that, he walked up to one of the aisles and grabbed an airplane plush that looked suspiciously like Aerosmith.

“These please!”

She was about to respond, when the distant sound of a phone was ringing. She gave an apologetic smile and excused herself. They waited until her footsteps faded.

“She’s too good for you guys.” Leone started.

“Yeah! She’s so nice and you guys are so..” Mista trailed off when he saw some of them glare at him.

“You don’t think we know that!?” Ghiaccio growled.

She’s been so kind to them; giving them leftover snacks, bonuses and just being very sweet. Not to mention how funny she was, how easy it was to have a conversation with her, how everything got interesting when she’s around and was willing to be their unpaid therapist.

Melone bagged Narancia’s items and gave him the bag, when the door opened. About three men walked inside just as Tira came back, as soon as she saw them she rolled her eyes.

“Hi, are you ready to buy something now?” She asked, by the tone of her voice, this wasn’t the first time she met them.

“Of course not. But are you ready to pay up?”

She scowled.

“First of all, I haven’t paid before and never will. Second, get out.”

The mad sneered and glared daggers down at her. Mista and Leone moved in to help, but they caught Risotto shaking his head to them.

“Lister here you little troia, I’m getting sick and tired of this prissy attitude of yours. You either pay or we trash this place.” He hissed at her face.

Ghiaccio opened his mouth but was quickly clamped down by Melone.

Tira stared directly to his eyes.

“Get. Out.”

Growling, he raised his hand intending to slap her only for her to catch it. The action shocked everyone san La squadra.

She pulled him towards her and bashed her head to his. The sound of cracking filled the air as the man dropped to the floor bleeding and unconscious.

The men with him tried grab her, but she jumped up the counter delivered a kick to each one of them, like their boss they also fell unconscious.

Tira dusted of her dress and wiped the blood from her forehead.

“Honestly, they’re lucky they didn’t make me rip my dress.”

A distant ringing of the phone caught everyone attention.

“Again? Oh well, boys please clear out the trash.”

“Yes ma’am.” Formaggio saluted. She smiled and walked out.

Turning back to the Bucci gang, who just looked stunned on what they witnessed.

Mista was first to break the ice.

“I can see why you guys like her.”

Tagging: @the-illiterate-pirate, @rae-pss, @michellenero, @jojowifey, @sweetsparklerain

#jojo vento aureo #jojos bizzare adventure golden wind #jjba #jjba part five #jjba golden wind #jjba vento auero #risotto nero #jjba prosciutto #jojo prosciutto #jojo pesci #jjba formaggio #jojo formaggio #jojo illuso #jojo melone #jjba ghiaccio #jojo ghiaccio #jojo sorbet #jojo gelato #sorbet and gelato #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra #la squadra esecuzioni #bucciarati gang #bucci gang

[apoptoses]

This is so fucking good! The way you’re peeling back Armand’s layers and making him come face to face with his religious trauma as well as his entire existence via the sheer power of horniness is amazing. He called Daniel his teacher in the 20th century and he was, but beyond that he played such an instrumental role in Armand’s journey of self-discovery, and all of those parts of him he thought he’d lost long ago. To quote Kendall Roy, he’s about to embark on one of the all time great psychosexual expeditions and he really shouldn’t be fighting it 🥰

This Armand was very reminiscent of horny asf Blood Sanation!Armand where he was aching for Daniel to ravish him in the back of a random alley in NOLA imo, and it takes me back to one of our previous chats about Daniel being one of the very few living creatures who’s gotten to know and experience the closest thing to Amadeo that still lives inside Armand.

Also, your take on Daniel being “cold, resentful” during the threesome was spot on. By that point, that man was past any semblance of interest in having sex with anyone but Armand, the only thing that managed to arouse him/make him come was the “dual purpose” of the encounters, the fact that he could either imagine himself doing it to Armand or the other way around, and that came across so well here! He really said “fuck them threesomes I want my baby” 🥹

And last but not least, this whole paragraph is perfection: “But you’d ached for your master, hadn’t you? You spent days in brothels, surrounded by life, and every waking moment you craved death instead. Nothing had ever compared to the monster in your bed. Nothing will ever compare for Daniel, you’re lying to yourself just like you lie to him”, screaming I’m obsessed!!!!

My canonically vers kings, I love them so! And you do them justice every time. Can’t wait for the next part xoxo DA ❤️

Dungeon anon, quoting Kendall Roy from the infamous l to the og episode is enough to get me down on one knee for you, I swear 🥹

But YES, exactly! Armand has to face these things from his past or he'll never move on, and if it takes being desperately vampire horny for Daniel to make him do it- so be it. He can't sit in his pit of repression forever. When he suffers he makes everyone around him suffer with him and he has to decide here if that's worth it.

And yes!! Daniel is the only being besides Marius, Bianca, and Riccardo to really experience Amadeo. It's a second-hand experience that comes in bits and flashes but in many ways that's Armand's true self, and it's only through Daniel that it's started to come through again. His mortality brings out the mortal in him.

Also, your take on Daniel being “cold, resentful” during the threesome was spot on. <- thank you!! That's such a contentious quote from the book and people have so many readings on it, but in my heart it's always been that 1) daniel doesn't want anyone but armand at this point so he's over it and 2) he's so disconnected from mortality that he wants to be turned and be like armand. He didn't resent the sex, just the barrier the third person put between the two of them.

And ahh, that paragraph you quoted! It's so funny because he's so wrapped up in his feelings that he doesn't truly acknowledge that Daniel is feeling exactly as he did! Aching for death and the monster in his bed. They're two sides of the same horny coin and I love them.

I'm so happy you're into it ♥ The next chapter has some good smut and good times for Armand, it'll be up soon!

#apoptoses answers #dungeon anon

[parhelias]

It’s amazing how much blue there is in the world, if you look. You’re different colors of flame: Bismuth burns blue, and cerium, germanium, and arsenic. See? I pour you into things.

#this is how you lose the time war #litedit #tihylttwedit #dailylit #tihylttw #my edit #edit: lit #ahh the sheer imagination in this book

[heyhoneyybunn]

The Years To Come

Relationship: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!Reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be you and Oikawa forever, so how are you married to Iwaizumi?

Warnings: fluffyyyyy, lil angst 

Word count: 2.0k+

A/n: STOPP WHAT IS THISSS

It’s just the two of you in the banquet hall, the scraping of cutlery permeates the air as you tell him about your day. Iwaizumi admires you while you chat to him so candidly, trailing his eyes over your every feature, committing your cute expressions to memory.

“I think I might take up a hobby,” you say between bites, “maybe painting.”

“I’ll have supplies brought to you tomorrow.”

Your raised brow makes him pause, did he do something wrong? Setting your utensils away you rest your chin on your palm, blatantly gazing as he struggles to finish his own meal, a blush threatening to expose him.

“Actually, maybe I’ll become a renowned baker,” you say.

What game were you playing?

“I’ll buy you a recipe book.”

“Ahh! I’m terribly indecisive, I think I’ll choose to learn how to fence.”

“Then I’ll teach you.”

He’s taken aback by the sudden sparkle in your eyes. Wisely, he averts his gaze to the plate beneath him.

“What?” He mutters.

“You haven’t changed since we were children.”

He’s slightly offended as he looks at you, perplexed, “I can assure you I have changed.”

You huff, looking away. Now it’s your turn to be flustered, the sight makes his heart race.

“I meant in the way you present yourself. You’re still as caring as ever.”

A strange albeit awkward pause fills the room.

Your soft voice breaks him from his thoughts and plunges him into an entirely different mind.

“Do you remember when we got married?”

How could he not? The events leading up to the ceremony were hectic not including the usual wedding shenanigans. But why were you bringing this up now?

He nods hesitantly thinking back to those days…

Your knowing glance and smile bursting at the seams was indication enough of good news, your excitement only growing when it was decided you’d be married to one of the two boys. Iwaizumi remembers the way his heart sank as he observed the googly eyes you and Oikawa were making at each other but nevertheless, he was content that the two most important people in his life would be happy, even if it hurt him.

Back in the comfort of his own manor, the two boys share a drink at Oikawa’s behest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll back off,” he assured his friend, stirring his tea briskly. There’s nothing more heart breaking then giving up the girl of your dreams but for the sake of their happiness, he’d acquiesce to his gloomy future.

With a soft smile, Oikawa pushed his own cup away from him, “I have a favour to ask of you,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “I want you to marry her.”

Iwaizumi’s head snapped up faster than he could blink, his mouth falling open, “In what world does that make sense?”

All of his thoughts spin on their axes, as he regarded his close friend under a scrutinising brow. Under closer inspection, his hands were noticeably shaking against the table.

“I love her but…I’m not ready to settle down.”

“That’s a lame excuse, even for you.”

There was a pregnant pause.

Suddenly rage burst in his veins as he snapped, “Did you take her to bed?”

Many knew of Oikawa’s promiscuous nature and although it was heavily looked down on, it didn’t stop him from sharing a bed with a new woman every night…until he met you. Iwaizumi knew how much it would break you to be just another notch on his bed post, especially since your love for him was so pure. He gritted his teeth, ready to defend your honor if he had to.

Oikawa’s brows scrunched in hurt, “Of course not!”

The fury simmered down, until they were both left with the hellish reality, “This is going to hurt her.”

“I know,” the brunette sighed, slumping against his chair in an un-royal fashion, “But I think this is for the best.”

The sheer situation caused Iwaizumi’s head to spin. A selfish part of him could imagine a happy future with you, where you’d grow old together, sharing memories and a bond like no other.

“Please take care of her for me.”

“I will,” he vowed. He’d stay by your side for eternity to ensure your every happiness.

He remembered the brave face you wore while you walked down the aisle, the fierce smile that enchanted everyone who attended and the way you avoided Oikawa like the plague.

He remembered holding your hair back when you were sick, crying from the pain while in his arms. The apology you murmured against his chest, “It’s not fair for you to see me crying over another man Hajime.”

Hushing away your protests, he helped you through, silently like a rock pillar in a blazing storm.

And when you finally started to come out of your room, opting to trail after him around the manor, he had gifted you his library as a means for you to escape, the radiant smile you bestowed upon him etched in his mind, it was your first genuine one in a while.

When you first join him for dinner, breaking the silence, “I’m ready to move on,” you say, picking at the mountain of peas on the plate. They topple, one rolling across the table mat and landing near his hand, “Thank you for helping me heal Hajime.”

All of these intricately tied up moments lead to the present.

When Iwaizumi looks at you his heart has wings, the especially soft look you were giving him now was sure to make it fly away.

“You saved me.”

“No I didn’t, I was being selfish,” he grinds out, scared you’d see him as some sort of monster.

“Selfish or not, you saved me,” you grip his hands in yours, desperately trying to get him to see what you see. When you look at him, and the conflicting emotions written on his face your own heart swells.

“You’ve really loved me all these years?”

It dawns on you, the way he treats you like a queen, cares for you like a doctor, listens to you talk about your heartbreak like a true friend even though it eats away at him.

“Since the day we met,” he admits, hands tightening in your hold. The weight that lifts off his shoulders brings a new type of peace to his mind, “And I will continue to love you for many years to come.”

#iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime fluff #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi imagines #iwaizumi drabble #iwaizumi drabbles #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq fluff #hq drabbles #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi oneshot #honey: writes #honey: royalty au

[ezwezz]

OH MY GOD I LOVED YOUR HEADCANONS POST ON WHAT THE CHARACTERS PERSONALITIES WOULD BE LIKE IN MODERN DAY! WHAT HOBBIES DO YOU THINK THEY WOULD HAVE TOO?

wow thank you so much!! it really means a lot :)) also thanks for the suggestion!! <3

Eren:

- tbh, I can see Eren as a hardcore gamer. not just because he's an angry soul but I can see him needing something to release his angst and stress, therefore I think fast-paced, fairly simple gaming would work the trick for him.

Mikasa:

- ahh mikasa is amazing at embroidery seeing as her mum taught her at a young age.

- she uses it to escape the moment and take her mind off the day, usually getting carried away and designing an entire display of perfectly stitched artwork.

Armin:

- I feel like Armin really loves to read. not just because he's canonically a nerd, but I also think he reads to feed into his wild imagination.

- Armin definitely has bedtime scenarios he creates based off books.

Jean:

- not only is Jean good at art, I can also see him being amazing at singing- although he never does it in front of anyone.

- his voice is very gravelly- like something you'd hear in modern rock. if you're close with him, he might mumble a quiet tune whilst the two of you chill.

Connie:

- I can definitely see Connie playing the guitar.

- when there's people around he'll get nervous and just play 'wonderwall' for the jokes, but when he's alone he'll play a lot more advanced, serious songs and simply get lost in the music.

Sasha:

- we all know Sasha is great at archery, but in modern times I can't really see that being her thing. instead I reckon she's an awesome swimmer.

- she's probably won a bunch of races and entered loads of competitions but she doesn't take it too seriously therefore nobody's aware of her hobby.

Reiner:

- aside from working out, I feel like Reiner has a lot of unresolved issues in his head therefore he does a lot of meditation to wind down before bed.

- he's never told anyone except bertholdt (whether that's a romantic or platonic bond, you can decide).

Bertholdt:

- I definitely headcanon Bertholdt being into tenis like I mentioned in my last post. I can also see him doing golfing since it's a lot more chill and he likes to have a balance.

Annie:

- I think on the most part, Annie being a fighter as a hobby makes a lot of sense and I reckon she'd definitely take part in some form of martial art.

- on the other hand, I can also see her needing a calmer, more peaceful hobby on the sidelines therefore I believe she'd play the piano when she's alone.

Erwin:

- I would love to say erwin has a not-so grandpa-like hobby however I can't shake the aching truth of him being invested in collecting stamps.

- he 100% has a book just filled with stamps from various decades and different areas.

- he takes a lot of pride in his collection as hange and levi have had a full briefing on the backstory of every single stamp he owns.

Levi:

- It may sound a bit of a reach however I can totally see Levi volunteering at an animal shelter of sorts.

- I've put some thought into this one and came to the conclusion that he's an animal person. he thinks animals are so much better than humans and if he could, he would stay at the shelter all day simply venting to the animals- they never interrupt, judge or try to understand, they're simply there to listen and he appreciates that more than anything.

Hange:

- Hange would 100% love to travel and learn about different cultures.

- They love the sheer thrill of experiencing new things and seeing different sights therefore they would probably choose to backpack across countries instead of going on proper holidays. it allows them to experience everything so much more authentically and realistically.

Historia:

- I think Historia is such a poetic-minded individual since her entire childhood had been formed through literature. with that being said I think she'll love to write.

- she was completely inspired by novels at a young age and would give anything to allow others to experience the same wonder she felt at the time.

Ymir:

- Ymir would absolutely love competitive sport. I can ultimately see her playing football (or soccer...whatever floats your boat.)

- she enjoys the thrill and pressure of the match. (she also likes the cheerleaders but we won't get into that).

Hitch:

- I definitely see Hitch being a dancer, and no, not just tiktok dancing.

- I think she'll enjoy doing contemporary dance styles like ballet and slow dancing since it's her way of venting the tougher emotions she keeps bottled up.

Pieck:

- Pieck is a plant mother.

- there's no explanation for this one, she just owns an entire habitat of plants. (she has names for each and every one of them and may or may not bawl her eyes out when one of them dies).

Porco:

- Porco is definitely a rugby lad.

- ramming into people and knocking them off their feet with sheer bodily force is his form of therapy. it also gives him a lot of confidence in himself which he wouldn't have if he'd never taken up sport in general.

Onyankopon:

- Onyankopon is a pro at chess and you cannot change my mind.

- I can see him being amazing at strategy games since he loves to put his mind to work in a competitive style.

Yelena:

- eat, sleep, worship zeke.

#aot headcanons #aot #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #sasha braus #connie springer #levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #annie leonhardt #bertholdt hoover #reiner braun #gabi braun #falco grice #ymir #historia reiss #hitch dreyse #pieck finger #porco galliard #onyankopon #funny #snk #yelena #attack on titan #shingeki no kyogin #anime

[alvhiedeir]

Little Red Elf

Thor X Reader

3174 words

This is longer than intended and quite different than requested and I have no excuse than my lack of discipline but I hope this is good enough

You are seriously thinking about investing on a security camera.

No, it wasn't that you were worried about being robbed. It's was being, 'gifted'.

In an almost daily basis, different items would make it's way to your doorstep. Black roots, hyacinth, hellebores, poppies and other herbs that would usually not grow around the area. It was nice, that was the first thought you had. You were no Circe, the great witch of Aiaia, but such ingredients could and did help greatly with your draughts. So as much as this occurrence should startle you, you brushed it off as the doing of one of your friends working for Lord Osanyin who would usually send you samples of anything new. You figured business was just doing better than usual for her to give you this much.

Two weeks, it continued on. When you rise for the day, there would be a neatly placed bundle of herbs or plant on your front steps. Always perfectly centered. And for two weeks, you accepted each and everything in such giddiness.

That is until you until today.

"I haven't been given you anything, (y/n)," She turned away from the selves she was organizing and continued, "it's been pretty busy lately for the last month with the arrival of new supply from Asia."

Her answer gave you a sudden feeling of uneasiness.

"Then who," your voice trailed, dragging the weariness and alert in the air. Your friend was quick to catch the shift of your mood.

"But think about it," she placed the bottle she was holding and walked towards you, "those herbs are rare and what are the chances of a random miscreant obtaining it?"

It eased your nerves a bit to hear her words.

"Or maybe, you finally have an admirer even if your always holed up in your home!"

She laughed at the jesting glare you sent.

"Like you're any better, cat lady."

"Hey! Having four cats does not count as being a cat lady!"

"Sure, whatever you say."

You shared a laugh, the tension thinning out. After saying a few words, she went back to the counter to pack the herbs that you bought, the reason why you were there in the first place.

"You bought quite a lot. What is it for anyway?"

"Loki wanted some draughts to "bring entertainment around this damn boring halls", his words not mine."

She laughed, commenting how it sounded just like him. She handed you the carefully packed products, with a small purple ribbon tied on the basket as she always did for you.

Just as you're about to leave she called out.

"If you're still disturb about the whole mysterious gifts, why don't you try staying up to see who it is?" You thanked her for her suggestion and concern and with a wave, headed back home.

To say the least, her suggestion was not very successful.

After you went home, you got started on the ordered draughts and by the time the moon greeted the sky, your eyes were already heavy. Being stubborn, you stayed sitting in your kitchen, chair facing the window to see if anyone or anything would past by.

The minutes were slow and before you knew it, the sun has reclaimed its place. And there was yet another gift. A freshly uprooted crab apple tree that barely passes as an adult. How in the world did they get this one?

Another week fast approached and the gifts arrived just as fast. Cornel bark, elecampane, silver fir, the list goes on. Each night, you attempt to desperately stay awake to catch but a glimpse would always end up with you succumbing to sleep. It didn't matter if it was for hours or a mere minute, by the moment your eyelids flutter open, it was already there. Perfectly centered as always, in an almost mocking way.

"You missed us again", you could hear the ridicule from it.

As days flutter, the gifts and your frustrations would only intensify. One time it was antlers from a dear Australia. The other day it was the tusk of a bore. Yesterday it was the blood of steed. The last one made you panic a bit, but thankfully in came only in a small vial. It eased your nerves, albeit slightly that the animal was minimally harmed.

You tried sleeping in the morning so that so that you could roam at night. But when you rise from your chair for a drink or to go the toilet, the sneaky bastard have already placed another gift. You went as far as sitting on your doorstep for the whole night, but even that didn't help. The gift was on your window.

You were at your wits end with this "Persistent Santa" shenanigans (it was your friend who called them that. It was that or creepy-pile-of-dung-that-had-to-much-time). Whoever they were, they are good.

You sighed tiredly again, the dark bags proving Your fruitless efforts.

"Wow, you look miserable!" You silently snapped at the voice, too sleepy to argue but to proud to ignore it. His laugh was laugh, always happy to see others demise.

"Just give me the money, Loki." You impatiently thrust the basket full of draughts to him, eager to leave and maybe sleep for a few days.

"Aren't you greedy." The more he teases you, the more punching him right in the face became an increasingly good option. As if reading your voice, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

" I would pay you, but," he dragged his voice as floated closer to you, "I dont have my money right now. And the old man is calling me so can you wait a few minutes for me?" He smiled, oh-so-mockingly sweet at you.

A tomato would have been jealous of the tint of your check. The itching call for violence is now an unignorable howler. But before you can give in, the god of mischief is already pushing you into one of the rooms, claiming your silence as agreement. In a blink, you were in a well decorated room. The walls were cream in color and golden leaves decorated the corners. Threre were shelves of book against one side of the wall and-

"Wait a minute." Snapping out of your trance, you shouted, voice filled with vile, "Loki!"

But sadly, it came too late and the door have already been shut and only his feint mocking voice telling "enjoy!" Was heard from the other side.

You could sighed, pity for your own predicament. Moving towards one of the shelves with a colorful string of curse words following, you might sa well entertain yourself with something. The books were more old, and probably cost more than your soul. Each one was placed neat and organized, neither a speck or spot of dust could be seen. But one particular book caught your eye.

With a gentle finger, you traced the gold imprints on its spine.

Herbs, Medicine and Witchcraft

Unlike everything else, this one book was placed different. It was pulled slightly forward, as if recently placed back but someone else other than the organizer. When you pull it out, you also noticed the small, almost miniscule dirt on its cover. But other than that, it was nothing special.

"I didn't think they'll have this kind of book."

You sat down and flipped on a random page. It was filled with information about different plants that can be used for both medicine and, surprisingly witchcraft. It included their typical use, characteristics, side effects and their locations. And it was very specific too.

"I wonder if I can borrow this."

Page upon page was flipped, despite the fascination dwelling in you, drowsiness became unbearable. It was just so quiet and peaceful here. Maybe a few minutes won't hurt, right?

"Loki will be there for a while anyway. Might as well." Your reasoning seemed to make sense with your tired eyes and you rest your head. Not even bothered by the fact that you used the book as your pillow.

It'll just be few minutes anyway.

It wasn't a few minutes.

Slowly, your eyelids fluttered as consciousness begin to come back. You sighed contently, that nap certainly helped with your mood. You buried your nose deeper into the soft cloth you leaned on and inhaled. It smelled like fresh lilacs and the sun.

Wait, cloth?

You lifted your head and saw, indeed there was a neatly folded cloth on the place of the book. It was pale apricot, almost faded white and now that you are looking properly, it was a short robe?

"I starting to think you were not going to wake up."

Do you know the sound of a startled walrus with a respiratory disease? Imagine that, but worse. That how you sounded as you whipped your head in surprise to the voice. Right beside you was the god of thunder himself, Thor. The difference in size between him and the chair he was resting on was almost comical. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact you want to live a longer.

"He-hello Thor-sama." Damnit, what did you stutter?

He casted his eyes sideways to acknowledge your greeting, glacing right back into reading afterwards.

Looking yourself, it was then you noticed the book he was reading was the one you were previously sleeping on.

"It didn't seem like you were using it," his voice was monotone as for usual, "aside as a pillow, that is."

Ahh, the sheer pleasure of being swallowed by the ground right now would be nice.

"Ah! That- I! Yes..." You simply stared at your lap instead, fist clenched tightly on top. Better to stay quiet that to embarrass yourself further.

Thor was in between being an acquaintance and  a work friend. Neither of you talked much, aside from greetings and small talk but was more than used to his presence with the number of times you had to deliver things to Loki, enough so that you don't have to tremble everytime you meet.

But sitting this close, in a close space, alone, this was definitely the first time.

And it'll be the last if you're not careful.

The silence was suffocating, for you at least. You have almost jumped in your sit when he flipped a page in the book.

A minute passed and you are so closed to jumping out of the window. The room was too quiet. Making small talk won't be bad at times like this right?

"It's a nice book."

Wow. If you could, you would have hit yourself in the back of your head. Great thinking, really.

He merely nodded and the silence dragged once again.

"There's a lot of useful information in it."

Stop, just stop. Please stop digging your own grave.

"That's why it's a shame to be drooled on."

"I do not drool!"

In the distant, the sound of funeral bells rang clear in your head. The life you lived was good. Your friend will remember what flower you wanted to be placed on your coffin, and she can have your house, maybe even your-

Before you could complete your will, you heard a smallest of chuckle from the other god.

Huh?

You stared at Thor and sure enough, there's the tiniest arch in his lips. His eyes remains on the pages but - shit - has he always been this pretty?

Between the brief greetings and quick glances, it was hard to appreciate his beauty. Though mostly blank, his face was clear and smooth. Not a single blemish as one might expect from a god who knew battlefield as his home. He was no Aphrodite nor comparable to Paris, but he himself held a beauty of his own. You couldn't quite decide on if it was the light from the window or it was simply him that was glowing?

His neck flexed in the smallest notion as he read. The muscles of his shoulders were relaxed against the table.

Heavens. Those muscles.

You blushed on your thoughts. You tear your eyes away from his physique, the wooden table suddenly very interesting.

"It is rare to see you without Mjolnir, Thor-sama."

"I don't bring him when I read."

"Him?" The question lingered on your head. Was Thor one of 'those' people?

"Do you read often?"

"No."

"Are you interested in herbal medicine?"

"No."

"Is that so?" Your answer was awkward just as the air around you. But to the very least, the tension have eased out knowing that he didn't  obliterate you so far.

"Um, Thor-sama?"

Curse you and your need to fill in the silence.

"May I ask why you are reading a book about witchcraft? You do not seem the type to be interested in it." Realizing what you said was potentially insulting, you quickly apologized, eyes wide as you tried to explain. "Not that you don't look like it! What I mean is, um, - that." You stumbled over your own words with nervousness but he simply kept his eyes in the book, barely even glancing at you.

"... give you." His voice made you stop with your gibberish. Catching only the tail-end of his words, you looked at him questioningly. Only then did you realize that it has almost been a minute since he flipped a page, almost as if your question startled him as well.

"Ma-may you repeat that?"

There was a short pause before his answer came.

"So that I know what to give you."

Furrowed brows and confused eyes marked your features.

"So that I know what to give you."

His words repeated in your head, like an stubborn echo inside a cavern.

"I know what to give you."

"Give you."

"Give."

Oh shit.

"You're the Persistent Santa?!" The chair you previously sat on collided with the floor with a loud "thud". Hands planted heavily against the table, you casted accusing eyes to him.

Before any other words were uttered, your senses made its way back to your head like a harsh slap of water. You just yelled at the strongest Norse god. You might as well have dug your own hole and painted your tombstone.

But all fear and confusion left you as you stare at the fore mentioned god. He was not glancing down anymore but instead his eyes found its place opposite of your direction. And if one would look close, really intently stared, the faintest of red could be seen blooming in his cheeks.

"He-he's blushing."

Thor is blushing.

"You shouldn't be shouting here." His voice did not have the same air of threat and authority it usually holds. If your ears were right, it almost sounded like he was embarrassed.

Silently picking up the fallen chair, you sat down with your eyes burning holes the robe infront of you. Which you have almost forgotten was there.

Thinking back to the times you interacted with him, one word would usually come to mind. Quiet. He would acknowledge your presence or sometimes even greet you during the times you bump into one another but has never to made a conversation. Compared to Loki, you have always figured that maybe he was just more refined.

It wasn't until you heard his tale from your friend that you have gathered a sort of fear towards him. You knew how gods are, how vile and wrathful they are. And a god of his caliber could wipe you with a single flicker of his finger.

You would now bow and act more politely to him. Going as far as trying to avoid any contact with him.

But now sitting a mere foot apart, you felt no threat. No danger. And only then did you realize that you have never really felt any danger to begin with. When he speaks, he did not have the murderous aura that they claim to choke anyone.  He had never given you any reason to fear him, it was only you who decided to believed other's opinion.

"I'm sorry."

As if a trigger, his head turned to you upon hearing your timid voice but you dare not look at his eyes.

"You don't-"

"Not just for yelling."

Where did you get the courage to cut him off? You do not know. But, still with the false bravery, you continued.

"I mean, I have been very rude to you for a long time,"

"You have never been mean to me and I only returned the gesture by fearing you without any basis of."

With every fiber of yours screaming otherwise, you turned to look at him in the eye.

"I'm really sorry."

The longer you look into those golden eyes the more the heat on your neck spreads to your cheeks.

Guess his hair isn't the only thing red now.

"It's nothing," surprisingly it was Thor who turned away first. This time though, you eyes remained on him with a small smile. Youu have been missing out on so many things. But now, you have the eternity to catch up. And you're sure as hell you will.

"Thor-sama."

"Just Thor."

You laughed a bit, a sound that you did not notice brought a smile on his own lips.

"Why did you give me those gift anyway."

He turned his head to the other direction, but your keen eyes could see his tainted red ears.

"Loki said gifts were a good way to get close to someone." You grinned.

"I should have known better than listen to him."

His words dragged a loud laugh from you. The thought of him asking Loki, of all people for an advice was something you thought you'll never hear. And the small pout in his voice upon the next statement both brought you giddiness and butterflies.

Your hands instinctively covered your mouth, but still the sounds slipped through. And if you would have opened your eyes that moment, you would have seen the adoration in Thor's as he watches you.

Yes, it was embarrassing to ask his cousin for advice and finding those herbs was a hard task. But if seeing you like this, with lips arch into the most beautiful smile he have seen filled with happiness he once thought he couldn't bring you, then he would do it a thousand more.

Bonus:

Outside the closed doors, Loki grinned at himself. Trying to get you two was a pain with how standoffish Thor was by this was the most entertainment he had for a long time.

"What the hell are you doing?" It was one of Odin's crow that screeched from beging, as they watch the god smiling, and by experience it never means well.

"Oh nothing," he sing-songed. He floated pass his uncle but never before saying,

"Hope you're ready for grandkids!"

"Huh?"

But they did not receive an answer, only a chorus of laughter from the god of mischief as he drift away.

If you don't know who's Circe is, she's a witch in the Greek mythology that turned sailors into pigs. Odysseus met her during his travel home from the Trojan war. She turned his men into pig too. And it's a book of Madeline Miller too! You should really read her books.

This was requested by @tenshi-san and I apologize that I might have strayed too far from your prompt. I really hope I did your husbando some justice. He was so hard to write because that only thing I can see him as is bored😂. But I hope you still like it!

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #Thor #Loki #SnV Thor #fanfiction #x reader #snv x reader

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (22) (org.) || atz

trigger warnings: gunshots, blood, injury, whipping

You freeze.

Every muscle in your body goes taut, a cold shiver running down your spine. The arm around your waist is firm, strong and from the almost unbreakable grip he has on you, he doesn’t intend on letting you go any soon.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” The man behind you purrs, his breath ghosting over the sensitive shell of your ear. A squeak escapes you as the barrel of the musket digs into your temple. You might be terrified to the point of near unconsciousness, but part of your mind registers that this isn’t the same lieutenant that you had seen yesterday. “The rest of you, show yourselves.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as the rest of your crew come into sight.

Most of them are tied up in groups with rope, their heads hanging low as Navy soldiers kick and push them out of the cargo hold, where they had been hidden from sight. So that was why the ship had been so strangely silent when you and Wooyoung had returned to the Treasure.

They had been captured.

“Hello, hello, hello, my two dear pirates.” The man behind you locks one arm around your neck, dragging you up the gangplank with him and you choke, your fingers scrabbling fruitlessly against his arm. His well polished boots click smartly on the deck of the Treasure as he addresses all of the pirates on board. “Now, we’re finally all here together. I’ve been waiting for this the whole night.”

There’s poison in his voice, sweet as honey and as dangerous as snake venom. You don’t dare to struggle against him for fear of being shot point blank in the head, but his hold on you is making you panic and he’s crushing your windpipe, making every breath an arduous effort.

Before you, you see Jongho on the ground, arms in heavy iron shackles used only for slaves, beaten and bloodied black and blue by the Navy soldiers. Your eyes widen in horror at the sight of him. Glancing around more desperately, you try to spot your master, Yunho, Yeosang, the captain.

“Ahh, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m head of port investigation, Leon Bastiville. I heard two of you had a fun trip to the governor’s last night.” The officer behind you yanks your head back by the hair and you let out a muffled whimper, tears trailing down your cheeks as he twists the musket playfully against your temple. “Did you enjoy yourselves? I heard one of you got shot by my men… Was it you, sweet one?”

Every alarm, every warning bell, every danger alert you have in your instinct is screaming in your head at full volume, telling you to get the hell away from this man and put an entire ocean between the two of you, but you’re too terrified to move an inch. Something seems off about him, as if you can feel the sheer madness radiating from him like some sort of black miasma. You’re scared. You don’t want to die.

Leon suddenly rams the musket against your temple hard enough to bruise and your face snaps to the side from the force, fresh tears springing from your eyes at the pain. “Answer me!”

“Yes…” You choke out, voice trembling beyond your control. Behind you, Wooyoung snarls and yanks against his bonds, but his two guards are too strong for him to do anything.

“Since you replied so nicely, let me tell you what you missed last night.” The officer sighs, stroking your hair gently. You’re so used to the same action being done to you by San and Wooyoung, but this man’s touch feels corrosive against you and you try your best to flinch away from him.

“Stay still.” Leon’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper, silken and dark. “I don’t want my finger to slip.”

Terror, cold as frost, spreads through your entire body. You can’t move.

“While the two of you were off causing your little commotion back there at the official’s building,” The officer drawls, playfully resting his chin on your shoulder as he addresses the crew, “one of my men ran back to the harbor to report it to me. My colleague that saw to you yesterday, Yoongi, was already suspicious of you. He smelled gunpowder on your ship, but your little de facto captain told us that you hadn’t been fired on.”

Every movement he makes, you can feel.

“So when I heard about the events of last night, I decided to check the ship out for myself.” His cheeks press against yours when he smiles. “And lo and behold, what did I find? The Pirate King himself, with his one green eye and his Treasure.”

Something cold wraps around your throat.

It was your fault.

You remember everything. The book, the guards, the delay because of your injury.

Captain.

“Bring him out.” Leon clicks his tongue and you see your captain shoved forward, head bowed and hands bound in front of him. Part of you desperately wants to run to the man who named you, to insist he never incline his head to someone he doesn’t respect, but you are completely powerless now. He looks so small, so defeated that you want to cry. Your captain’s head is bowed, and it’s all your fault.

“So, I wonder what you were trying to achieve by coming to Nassau.” The officer sighs, rolling the question on his tongue. Captain simply remains silent, not saying a word as he averts his eyes to the deck. You can feel Leon’s mood darkening at your captain’s refusal to speak.

“Bring me the cat.”

Cat? Why would this officer call for a cat, of all things?

Your question is answered when a young soldier steps forward, holding a thin, dark shape in his hand. Dread fills you when you realise what it is.

“I hope you can bear the claws of a cat o’ nine tails, milord.” Leon smiles, looking rather amused. Disgust and loathing rises in you at how sick in the mind this man is. He jerks a thumb at your captain. “Flog him till he talks.”

Your heart drops in your chest.

“Or stops moving.”

Your head jerks up before you can stop it.

No.

The members of the crew have similar reactions, all of them screaming some protest or another, but they are quickly silenced by their guards with some sort of blow or slap. Yunho gets backhanded so hard across the face that he collapses to the ground, blood trickling from his mouth. You see Yeosang at your right, face pale as a sheet and tears silently streaming down his cheeks.

Before your eyes, your captain is stripped of his shirt. He doesn’t make a sound, only stares forward, and you can feel the irritation pricking at Leon’s skin when he doesn’t react the way he wants him to.

An officer raises a whip to your captain’s bare back and brings it down.

You flinch at the sight and your eyes close instinctively against it, you can’t bear to watch. You hear the whistling of the cat o’ nine tails as it comes down against your captain’s back, the sharp stinging sound it makes against his skin, the soft cry it tears from Yeosang’s mouth. Then the sound repeats, again and again and again, till you lose count and tears rolls down your cheeks, your chest heaving with silent sobs.

Leon’s hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing your eyes open. “Watch, or your captain dies.”

You’re weeping openly now. Hongjoong’s back is a mutilated, bloody mess of raw flesh and shredded skin, crimson streaming from several open wounds. Your captain is on his knees, face pressed against the floor, body trembling. You can’t even begin to imagine what absolute agony he must be in, your musket wound was nothing compared to this. But your captain remains silent, teeth gritted against the torment brought on with each swing of the whip.

He doesn’t make a sound.

Why? Why doesn’t he try to fight back? Why isn’t he trying to escape?

The whip comes down.

A muffled scream leaves your captain’s mouth, it tears at your heart like claws.

The whip comes down.

You can barely see any untouched skin, your captain’s back is nothing more than a raw, bloody piece of flesh.

The whip comes down.

Your captain’s arms give out from under him, and he collapses to the ground, choking from trying to gasp for air and stifle the cries that fight to leave his mouth at the same time.

“Not willing to talk, huh?” Leon breathes, but you can hear the barely restrained fury in his voice. He must not be used to having people resist him like this. The musket digs deeper into your temple, but honestly you don’t care anymore, at this point, you’d rather he just shoot you and spare you the pain of watching your captain get flogged. “Should we move on to another victim?”

The officer’s eyes search the trembling crew for his next victim, but a soft groan from your captain stops him.

“Are you tired already?” Leon turns back in shock, only to see Hongjoong forcing himself back into a kneeling position, arms shaking against the pain as he looks at the Naval officer with a chuckle. “Maybe you’re not training your men hard enough.”

You want to slap your captain for the sheer stupidity of his words. His back is completely torn and ravaged, and if they continue whipping him they’ll be cutting into raw flesh or worse, his spine. And even if he does survive the whipping, the size of this wound is so huge that there’s no way it’ll be able to heal without him getting some sort of major infection.

If the whipping doesn’t kill him, the infection will.

What is your captain doing?

The young guard administering the lashes looks every bit as uncomfortable as you feel, glancing at his superior officer in worry. “Sir, I’ve already administered fifty lashes, but he might die if I continue-”

“Carry on.” Leon spits, voice rising in vindictive glee. But before the young guard can protest or carry out his orders, the officer pauses. “Wait.”

Silence drags across the deck as the commanding officer seems to be contemplating something. Then he turns to look at you, in his arms.

A terrifying smile looms on his face and for a second, your heart stops beating.

Leon turns back to address your captain.

“If you’re not willing to talk when being whipped…” He pauses for a short moment, glancing over at your captain. “... I wonder if your tongue will loosen if I do it to one of your crew, then?”

The question sinks in.

“No!” You hear San, Yeosang and Wooyoung scream simultaneously at once, but you can’t register the words that Leon has just said. They’re going to whip you, probably flog you to death, just to get captain to talk...

Your eyes meet your captain’s, blood roaring through your ears. And ever since the whipping started, your captain looks afraid.

“No-” Hongjoong begins to say, but then Leon’s fingers are at the front of your shirt, pulling at the clasp.

Your eyes fly wide in realisation. Your bindings!

This may seem like the worst time to think about this, but you can’t have your gender revealed now. Not when the rest of the crew already had begun to trust you so deeply as one of their own, not when Wooyoung had confessed to you the some of the deepest, darkest secrets of his heart.

Uncaring of the gun at your head, you flail and thrash against him, to no avail.

Leon growls, fury vibrating through him. “Stop struggling!” With that, he shoves you to the ground, the sound of cloth tearing filling the air as you crash to the deck next to your captain.

There’s a sudden silence as everyone takes you in. You can see every emotion in Hongjoong’s green eye, shock, pain, realisation, then betrayal.

“A woman…” Leon steps over to you, sheer wonderment and interest in his voice. You don’t like where this is going. He yanks you to your feet by the hair and you scream in pain as every nerve ending on your head floods you with a sharp agony. The smile on his face is something you’ll see in nightmares for days to come. “She’s coming back with us. I hope you’re pure for sale, my sweet, but I suppose that may be difficult when you’re on the same ship as so many men.”

Terror swallows you whole.

He wants to sell you as a-

Hongjoong lunges to his feet faster than you can blink. You gasp at the sight of your captain, who’s somehow standing despite the fact that he should be physically in too much pain to do so. His green eye is burning with fire, an uncontrollable fire that ravages everything in its path and burns the world around it to cinders.

The look in his eyes alone lets you understand why he was named the Pirate King. Nobody could ever match the sheer determination and will that burns in his very soul, a roaring blaze that even the ocean cannot put out.

For a moment, he’s as blinding as the sun.

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong shouts, and immediately the head gunner bursts into action, his ropes falling from his wrists as he tosses three smoke bombs you know were hidden in his shirt to the ground. The deck explodes into a smoky mixture of ash, fine sand and ground glass that San had concocted a long time ago, sending the Navy officers into a panic as they scatter, eyes watering from the blinding powder. The crew of the Treasure, already long familiar with this ever since Yeosang started experimenting with these smoke bombs, turn away from the wind and keep their eyes and noses shut tight against it.

Wooyoung takes this opportunity to use a knife hidden in his boot to cut through the bonds of Jongho and Yunho, who roar into battle like two furious lions. You watch as Jongho tears the sword of a officer off him with his bare hands, before picking the unfortunate man up and tossing him into the sea mercilessly, before smashing through anyone in his way like a one man battering ram.

Yunho rips a spear from the hands of a younger soldier, kicking him to the side before tearing through the deck, freeing as many of his crew mates as possible, all of who join in the fight, armed or not.

In a single second, the tides have shifted.

Leon hisses in rage as the battle happens before him, dragging you back with him as he moves towards the gangplank. The gun has long left your head, Leon using it to sweep the area for any potential intruders.

“You’re coming with me.” He growls, yanking you back. You try to fight back, but he simply smacks you so hard that you feel like you’ve been knocked silly for a moment, head swimming as you try to get your bearings. “I need to call for reinforcements, so-”

Hongjoong raises a short piece of rope with two knots done on it. For some reason, you immediately know what it is, the power thrumming through it too immense to be that of any human.

“Pulling the first knot could yield a gentle, southeasterly wind, while pulling two could generate a strong northerly wind, but the third knot would unleash a hurricane. Hongjoong-hyung has one of these, but he’s used the first knot already.”

But you’re already on the gangplank, and if Hongjoong pulls the second knot now, you’ll be left at the harbor alone, never to see them again. Your eyes meet your captain’s, and for a second, you see them falter.

Suddenly, he flies out of nowhere, lunging for your captor. Leon snarls and tries to kick him away, but then he raises a short knife and buries it in Leon’s arm. The man holding you stumbles back onto the gangplank, falling onto the ground and your saviour takes your hand.

“Let’s go!” He shouts, yanking you with him as the two of you sprint for the ship. Seeing this, Hongjoong raises a hand to undo the second knot on the rope.

You glance back, only to see your captor’s face twisted into one of hatred, the loaded musket pointed straight at your backs.

Hongjoong pulls free the second knot on the rope.

The hand holding yours yanks you in front of him and into his chest, shielding you with himself.

The sound of successive gunshots fill the air.

You feel his body jerk once. Twice. Thrice.

The wind picks up in speed, and all of a sudden the Treasure is speeding away from Nassau, leaving the port island a mere speck in the distance.

“Chin... Hae…” You hear him gasp out through ragged breaths. His chest is heaving against you. You can’t breathe. You can’t think.

Like an insect trapped in amber, you watch, frozen in time, as the arms holding you close slacken, falling from your shoulders. Then he crumples to his knees, crashing to the ground, and that is when you see the blood pouring from three different holes in his back.

Your mouth opens in a scream of his name.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king

[rvmmm21]

. keep it down .

summary : judgemental is the last thing joohyun is, but when seungwan can seem to keep it to herself, you can bet she’ll have something to say about it.

small note : this sat in my head, and then in my drafts, and now it's sitting here, obnoxious as seungwan. and if there’s anything i struggle with more than my inner fight between yandere!violence and yandere!smut, it’s writing two characters doing the consensual nasties. even worse, if it’s a group endeavour. thankfully irene’s not about to let that happen. idk but there’s like a tinge of humiliation somewhere, but not enough for me to want to trigger warn you about.

[irene x wendy]

...

There are only so many ‘sounds’ her ears can take before she blows her top. Especially when they surface every damned day of the week.

She gets it, she understands. It isn’t like there’s very much else to do what there’s a virus plaguing the nation and quarantine restrictions don’t seem to be lifting anytime soon. Plus, Red Velvet had already been laying low for the past few weeks prior, so everyone was getting a little restless. Even she’s found her own fingers wandering past her waistband more often than she’d care to put a number to… so it’s not like she’s about to judge her for it.

Except, she can, because could she be any louder? Like seriously, it’s damaging. The frequency of those moans could shatter the windows on a fucking rocket if they weren’t contained within the four walls of her room, goddamnit! She’s been out here all morning trying to get in some quality tv time – just some peace and quiet with National Geographic on for Christ’s sake, and Son bloody Seungwan is obnoxiously denying her that right.

Joohyun angrily nibbles on the edge of a biscuit, equally close to stuffing her ears with cotton-wool and breaking that door down and giving her self-serving member an earful. This is… what, the third? Fourth time today? All in what? The span of a few hours? God, she thinks, rolling her eyes as she glances at the clock, she’s really going for the Guinness Book of World Records, isn’t she?

It’s not even noon.

With an exasperated grunt, she pushes herself off the sofa and marches to the door. She had originally planned to just barge in and start yelling, but something stops her right before she has her fingers around the handle, and she finds herself slowly pressing an ear to the cool, thin wood, listening. Yep, she’s going at it again. Joohyun’s breath unconsciously catches in her throat when she hears the heavy sigh from the other side – if she listens really closely, it’s like she’s sighing right into her ear. And if she listens closer still, she can just about hear the sound of fingers against wetness.

Since Seulgi has taken Yerim out to the coffee shop, and Sooyoung’s all huddled up in her own room, headphones on and re-watching that one episode of Itaewon Class (she assumes), this could mean she gets some quality time to talk to Seungwan about her ‘problem’.

For a moment there, Joohyun thinks about Seungwan’s behaviour when they’re all out and promoting. Seungwan is bubbly, lively and full of charisma – she’s about to be full of something else, but she’ll save that image for later. She’s so soft, so even-tempered, so well-adjusted to idol life, Joohyun had often wondered how she managed it despite their constantly hectic schedules and rising levels of stress… and, well, she knows now. Her precious dongsaeng; who hasn’t a single nasty bone in her body – aside from all this self-gratification, but that doesn’t count.

Ahh, anyway, Seungwan’s in trouble. She’s definitely in trouble. And she’s going to hear all about it. Because it isn’t so much the fact that Joohyun’s been interrupted out of sleep days in a row now, or the fact that Yerim has come knocking on her door in the middle of the night because ‘Seungwan unnie’s watching weird goat videos in her room’ and she can’t go back to sleep. Hell, it isn’t even because she can’t watch the nature channel without those animalistic mating noises Seungwan so considerately contributes to, oh no.

It’s because every time Joohyun hears them, it curls that flame in her belly even tighter than the last. And while Seungwan seems to be satisfied, Joohyun absolutely cannot stomach the thought of getting her own panties wet and having the decency to carry on about her day without locking herself in her room and building the muscle in her right bicep.

So she’s done listening, and she doesn’t knock.

She has to swallow a laugh when she hears a shrill yelp and a frantic blur of blankets as Seungwan scrambles to cover herself in her sheets, as if the room isn’t already drenched in that very telling scent.

“Unnie!” she screams, twisting the material flush against her body, “oh my gosh, can’t you knock? I was, you – you can’t just come in like that!”

Joohyun just smiles. “Hi Seungwan.”

Seungwan feels the heat move to her cheeks and she looks down with a mumbled ‘hi unnie’. Joohyun steps through the doorway and shuts it behind her, causing the younger girl to shoot up from where she was staring at the floor.

It can’t be any more obvious, really. She’s doing a terrible job at hiding the breathlessness in her tone, the sheets are a mess, and her clothes are in a heap on the chair in the corner. Can… can Joohyun tell she’s naked under this? She should, from the way she’s pulling the sheet up to her neck. Oh and of course, Joohyun doesn’t clear a space on the chair so she can sit. She just sets herself down… on the edge of the bed, right next to her. That smile she’s wearing makes Seungwan think she’s either being blatantly genuine or that she’s got a million things up her sleeve.

“Are you alright? Have you been having nightmares again?”

Well, that was… unexpected. Since when did Joohyun know about the nightmares? Oh, right… that time. Gosh, she’d be lying if she says half her self-service episodes aren’t spurred on from that memory alone. But, no? She doesn’t take naps during the day… and she’s sure the other girl knows it too.

She cocks her head to the side. “Um, no unnie? I’m okay, really. Th-thanks for checking on me, though. You can, uh…” But she can’t find it in her to tell her to leave.

Unfortunately, Joohyun insists on playing dumb. “Are you sure, Seungwan-ah?” She reaches up to brush a strand of hair from Seungwan’s face. “I thought I heard crying or… or something. Even Yerimie tells me she thinks you must be having bad dreams. You wake her up sometimes, you know? With your crying.”

Okay, so ‘crying’ is definitely a euphemism.

No, no, no. There’s no way.

Has she been that loud? Surely she hasn’t tainted poor, darling Yerimie’s innocent ears with all her immorality, has she? Wait, what has everybody been hearing?

Joohyun cuts through her thoughts, leaning in over her and holding her down with her gaze. Seungwan can’t help the shiver that rattles through her when she sees what’s in those eyes, all too aware of the dryness in her lips and the cool air against her heated skin.

Before she has time to react, Joohyun is bringing Seungwan’s fingers – you know, the ones that had been between her thighs not ten minutes ago, still slightly damp from activities – up under her nose and… that fucking smile stretches all the way to her ears when she confirms something she’s known all along.

“Nightmares, maybe not…” Joohyun sounds far too nonchalant for someone who’s just found out her member has been touching herself non-stop. “… well, not for you, anyway.”

Seungwan suddenly can’t remember how to breathe when cinnamon eyes stare right through hers.

“And not for me, either.”

The instant Joohyun’s words register in her brain, Seungwan is pulling her wrist out of the death grip around it and trying to kick away from her. She would’ve succeeded, too, if it weren’t for the fact that Joohyun had already seen this coming. She doesn’t wait for Seungwan to react, and she doesn’t loosen her grip. She tugs her in by the arm, pins it to the bed, and she’s on top of her before Seungwan can even think to catch her breath.

“Get – get the fuck off me!” The reaction is impulsive, unthinking. Seungwan stills when she realises her mistake and instantly corrects herself (which Joohyun thinks is absolutely adorable). “I mean! I-I mean please get off, u-unnie…”

“You know, Seungwannie,” Joohyun continues, ignoring the uncomfortable shift beneath her, “I wouldn’t have minded… except. I’m sure you’re aware that the walls in here aren’t the thickest. And I can only imagine you think you’re being subtle with all those pretty noises you make. Sometimes I just want to watch tv and not have to turn the subtitles on.”

Joohyun watches in amusement as she tries to flinch away, to hide her deafening embarrassment, but there’s really nowhere to go.

P-pretty noises? Subtitles?! Pretty noises!

“Unnie, I… I don’t – I’m…” she stutters, trying unsuccessfully to kick the sheets so she isn’t trapped under them, too.

There’s a definite switch in Joohyun’s voice, which the younger picks up instantly. No more fake concern, no more pretending not to know. It’s still gentle as ever, but there’s something else… and it’s not good news for her.

“Aw, is Wannie feeling shy now?” She taunts, tightening her grip on her wrist just enough to make her squirm. “You certainly don’t seem shy when you’re making me listen to all your moaning… your whimpering…”

Seungwan bites her lip and shakes her head, wanting nothing more than to perish on sight. She’s given up struggling for the moment, because she can barely move with Joohyun’s knee snugly wedged between her legs, putting an unholy amount of pressure on her still-sore clit.

“It’s – it’s not what you think!”

This time Joohyun pulls her hand up to her lips, and oh so slowly takes them into her mouth, a finger at a time, until Seungwan feels them both coated in her own slick and warm saliva. She gulps, and Joohyun grins, sucking her fingers clean. “Oh really? That tasted like exactly what I think it is.” She chuckles at the sheer horror plastered on her dongsaeng’s red face. “You really think you’re quiet, don’t you? I can hear everything, Wannie.”

“Wha – what?”

Joohyun looks down at her. The girl probably doesn’t realise how vulnerable, how lovely she looks, because if she did, she’d know exactly what it was doing to Joohyun’s waning restraint, and she’d definitely try to stop. God, that deep rose tint in her cheeks, the thin sheets she’s barely wrapped in anymore just falling off her shoulders, beckoning her to uncover more. 

And not to mention the taste of her arousal now sitting on her tongue.

“I wonder what everyone else would say, hm? If I told them. What would manager unnie say if I tell her the real reason you were late for our VLive yesterday? Huh? Do you think she’d like to know that our tiniest, sweetest member spends all her free time fucking herself like this?”

Seungwan can only listen and cringe at the prospect of having her innocent façade shattered in front of everyone she’s ever known. “No, please don’t!” She’s quick to interrupt Joohyun’s sadistic musings, thinking she might actually die if she hears any more. And she doesn’t want to resort to looking even more pathetic than she already does, but – “Please, unnie, please don’t tell! I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’ll be quiet next time, promise!”

It’s so funny how Seungwan thinks she can get out of this with a few ‘sorry unnie’s’ and ‘pleases’. Joohyun responds with a firm upper thrust of her knee between her legs, and Seungwan can’t choke back the whimper fast enough. She smirks when the girl’s eyes go wide and she clamps her hands over her own mouth. 

Joohyun will compromise later, but for now, she’s intent on hearing more of those sounds Seungwan seems to suddenly not want her to hear.

“What… what are you…” She tries to scoot back, but Joohyun’s hand is already sneaking down to rub her over the paper-thin cotton sheet. Seungwan almost groans out loud at how wet she is. The fabric slides so smoothly over her folds and Joohyun finds her clit without breaking eye contact for a second, pulling a throaty whine from her when she thumbs it gently. Seungwan’s leaking so much she’s soaked through the barrier of cotton.

The older girl somewhat assesses her reaction. Very, very sensitive, but she can take one more.

Probably.

Seungwan spreads herself open as much as her restrictions will allow, shuddering violently when she feels the heat in her cheeks migrate back down to that spot between her thighs. She can’t help it, though. When Joohyun barged in on her, she’d been so close. Now she just wants her to finish off what she’d disturbed.

Joohyun relents her grip on her wrist to rub a thumb over a nipple, making Seungwan squeak like a baby mouse. God, she really is soft all over.

“Ungh… u-unnie…” Seungwan shields her eyes with an arm, terribly shy. “Please…”

“Mm?” Joohyun dips her head down to flick her tongue over the nipple before lightly biting down. “What was that? Were you close? Did I ruin it?” Although from the moisture on her thumb, she needn’t have asked.

“Don’t worry, unnie will take care of that for you.” Joohyun reassures, bringing her fingers up to tap against Seungwan’s lips, demanding access. “But you need to be quiet, okay? You can use my fingers if it helps.”

The offer is mortifying but at the same time, she doesn’t trust herself to be able to hold back. So she opens, sucking on the fingers filling her mouth and turning anything she was trying to say into a muffled grunt, to which Joohyun smiles encouragingly.

“Does my poor little Wannie need to feel good, hm? She’s just frustrated, isn’t she?”

The only response is a gagged whimper around the digits between her lips. Joohyun slowly increases the pressure against the painful ache at her core, and Seungwan just keens. She can’t vocalise it now, but the way her hips are canting up against the pad of her thumb shows just how desperate she is for more stimulation, and Joohyun almost coos.

Poor Seungwan. Her poor sensitive, edged little Seungwan.

Too bad it’s so much fun to tease her. Especially when she’s so clearly on the brink. But she knows she’s not going to last much longer, not when she’s already twitching like she’s going to cum for the fifth time today. Joohyun is just glad she’s the one making her, this time. She continues to roll her thumb right against Seungwan’s clit, swollen from overstimulation but burning for Joohyun to make it cum again.

Seungwan tries to tell her that she’ll lose it if she keeps this up, but her makeshift gag stops the words from ever leaving her mouth. She doesn’t see Joohyun move, nor does she hear it. All she feels is a slight ruffle in the bedsheets and then the zips of electricity that run down the length of her spine when Joohyun’s lips latch around her nub and suck. Oh gosh, she’s… she’s sucking on her clit. She’s sucking on it through – through the fabric and it feels even better. She tries to shift away a little, wanting to stay like this for as long as possible, but Joohyun’s anchored and she’s helpless to resist it. It quickly becomes too much for her to hold out for a second longer. She’s going to – god, she can’t take anymore, she’s going to cum.

Seungwan falls apart with Joohyun eating her out and four fingers stuffed into her mouth, shivering and whining as best she can while she rides out the most intense orgasm she’s had today, or ever. And Joohyun doesn’t stop, either. She’s still licking – slower, at least, but she isn’t letting up till she feels Seungwan shake at the feeling, oversensitive and exhausted.

Joohyun licks her lips, watching Seungwan struggle to keep her eyes open. So the limit is five, she mentally adds for future reference.

“Did you like that, Wannie? It really sounded like you did. Sooyoung probably heard you from her room.”

Brows furrow in disbelief and Joohyun only shakes her head as she removes her hand, creating a long string of saliva as it leaves her mouth.

She grins as she holds up her spit-coated fingers for Seungwan to blush at. “Really. You have no idea, huh. These definitely aren’t enough to shut you up. I’m going to have to get creative next time.”

Seungwan groans and buries her face in her pillow, mumbling something incoherent about ‘never opening her mouth again’. It’s enough to keep her hands away from her crotch for the rest of her life. That, and the fact that Joohyun is still fully clothed while she’s lying here completely naked, nothing but a soaked bedsheet to preserve any modesty she can scrape together after… whatever’s just happened.

She isn’t sure what she thought was going to happen next, but Joohyun slotting herself comfortably between her and the wall wasn’t on her list of expectations. The next thing that registers in her cloudy mind is that she’s being… cuddled. She didn’t even have to squeeze her bolster like she so often did, thinking about a certain someone after she’d finished ‘fantasising’ or even as she retired for the night. No, this is the real thing! There’s an arm draped around her waist and a warm body snuggled into her side. She wants to pinch herself, half expecting to wake up in another dimension – one where cockroaches run for presidency and everyone’s favourite food is Twinkies (the chocolate kind) – but when she wriggles, the arm tightens around her and she turns to look at the face she wants to wake up to for as long as she lives.

“Unnie?” For someone so usually vocal, she’s at a loss for words. “… I… uh, sorry… about… the noise, I…”

Joohyun shushes her with the gentlest kiss to her cheek and laces their fingers together. “Relax, Wan-ah… I understand. I wasn’t angry with you like that, you know.”

A tiny spark of energy races through the younger girl at those words, and she jolts forward, confused. “Huh? You weren’t angry I was so noisy? The subtitles? Your tv time?”

Assuming she’d have her dongsaeng fall asleep in her arms, the sudden curiosity takes Joohyun by surprise too, but she gradually pushes herself up so she’s resting on her elbows. “Well, not really… you weren’t really disturbing me, that much. I didn’t mean it like that, anyway.”

“W-What do you mean, unnie?”

And Joohyun has to laugh at her sincerity.

With their fingers still intertwined, she brings them up to her lips and kisses the back of Seungwan’s hand.

“You really want to know?”

#red velvet #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #wenrene #wendy #irene #smut #kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios #red velvet smut

[polkahotness]

SHORTAKI WEEK DAY 1

FFN // AO3 

               Long Gone

Sometimes when I look at Helga, it's difficult to remember what it was like before we admitted our feelings for each other. Granted, Helga had admitted her feelings to me countless times and on numerous different occasions, but I had never been all that great at that sort of thing in response.

I supposed that my 'love language' just wasn't the same as hers and it made navigating through our relationship a tumultuous and difficult process at times.

Helga had always been so good with words—her feelings, though oftentimes hidden deep inside, were always so well-articulated. When she wanted to give up the truth behind them, her sentences were thoughtful; poetic, and they came out of her mouth with ease, despite inwardly struggling with that piece of vulnerability.

But me?

It seemed that I still hadn't quite figured out how to best voice my feelings.

It wasn't that I had a problem voicing them—I had no issue whatsoever telling Helga, Gerald, my next-door neighbor, or the entire world how I felt about her. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that I couldn't do it well. My attempts were often clumsy, and I had the tendency to ramble and stumble over each word like I was once again learning how to speak for the first time in my life.

Thankfully, Helga never held it against me. In fact, her response to my feeble attempts usually sounded something like, "Still struggling with that word thing, are we, footballhead?" Then she'd let out this soft little laugh while I blushed and would open my mouth to try and dispute her, though she never let me get that far. "I get it, babe. You love me. And I love you—" then she'd pause and smack my butt while following it up with, "—and that cute little ass of yours."

A lifetime of confusing feelings had changed a lot in the dynamic between Helga and myself—the last six of those years cementing our relationship in a way that 10-year-old-me could have never imagined.

We were the couple people oogled over. Our stories of the bully and the victim turning into lovers was one for the ages, and we never grew tired of talking about it or reminiscing over the foolish children we once were. While anyone with eyes could see the love that we held for one another, it was always Helga who seemed to vocalize it best. As the self-appointed designated speaker, she was usually the one who told our complicated love story as I draped my arm over her shoulders to hold her into me wherever it was that we sat.

Helga had figured out in our time together that I was the shower, and not the teller. My love for her looked like me making dinner when I knew she had a hard day at work and would be too tired to even heat up a tv dinner. It looked like me rubbing her feet while she lay unsuspecting on the couch with her legs on my lap as we binge-watched another series. My love was shown through buying her that book she'd been talking about for three weeks because it was the long-awaited follow-up to her favorite author's poetry book—and I'd even gotten the limited edition copy with the ornately designed cover and gold-lined pages because, while she'd never say it, I knew she preferred the special copy over the boring (and cheaper) paperback version.

It was all of those little things and more that told Helga how much I loved her. But all of those little things could never express what I needed to tell her next. The emotions and feelings I had to say this time around would require me to put my strengths of showing and my weaknesses of telling together so I could be bolder than I'd ever been before.

Because there was nothing in the world that I wouldn't do for her.

It may have taken us a while to realize just how deeply our love for one another went. Even after we'd admitted our feelings, we struggled to get to a place where we mutually realized we were each other's end game. I'm sure Helga already knew this fact because she seemed to have always known, even when we were children, but me? It had taken me much longer.

With Helga, I was always just a few steps behind.

But it was okay.

Helga always managed to wait patiently…always somehow knowing that I was making my way to her.

Throughout our years of syncopated dating habits, a funny thing happened that I could never push away. Helga never left my mind. No matter where I was or what I was doing with who, Helga always remained. It may have taken until we both hit 21 for the stars to officially align, but that night six years ago when we reconnected on our favorite bar's balcony that overlooked the bright lights of Hillwood… that night forever changed my life.

I could only hope it would provide that same luck tonight as we stood together, once again, on the bar's balcony while looking out at our hometown on a quiet autumn evening.

"You know, Arnoldo," Helga said after taking a swig from the bottle she was holding, "I was kind of surprised you wanted to come to this joint on our anniversary of all days."

Smirking at her statement, I shrugged my shoulders. "The balcony here is nice. I like looking out at the city, don't you?"

"Well, sure," she replied while focusing her attention out on the dotted lights of the faraway buildings that made up the skyline. "But we could have easily done it from somewhere less…" Twisting her body, she glanced behind herself towards the hubbub of noise from within the bar. Turning back around, she returned her gaze outward while finishing her sentiment. "I don't know, somewhere less… cheesy."

"Cheesy?" I intoned while eyeing her carefully. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know," she simply said while fixating her eyes ahead without so much as a flinch in my direction. "Taking me to the same place where we first 'officially' rekindled our relationship. I guess I would have thought you'd pick some fancy-pants restaurant to propose to me at."

My jaw instinctively dropped as I stared at Helga with my mouth agape.

Slowly she turned her head to look at me with a wicked grin. "I like the sentimentality part though," she offered as some kind of consolation prize. "But if you were to take us back somewhere and be all romantic by talking about the past, I would have chosen P.S 118 or something. Now that's a good throwback."

I was still in shock as she spoke; my mind not comprehending that Helga had so easily figured out my plans and then called me out on them without so much as a care in the world.

It seemed that, yet again, Helga was still one step ahead of me.

"But you… how did you… but," I shook my head while struggling to force out a somewhat-coherent response. "Didn't you, how could you have—"

"Arnold," she deadpanned, though a hint of a smile twitched at the corner of her lips, "You were at Gerald's for four hours the other day. You really think I didn't hear about your little 'plans' from Phoebe?"

"Phoebe told you?" I repeated in shock. "Phoebe. She's smarter than that, Helga. Why on earth would she think it was okay to tell you something this important?!" I exclaimed and Helga remained unphased; merely tilting her head in thought before looking away from me again.

Casually, she explained, "I never said she thought it was okay. I mean, criminy, I practically had to force it out of her."

"And you did that because…?"

Helga let out a chuckle before fully turning her entire body to face me directly. "I've been waiting for you to propose to me for years now, Arnold. Years." I could feel heat beginning to rise and fill in my cheeks. "Honestly, I was about ready to propose to you, and then Phoebe kept telling me that I couldn't do that because our anniversary was coming up so then I told her that it was the perfect time to propose, then one thing led to another and—"

"She didn't actually tell you, then, did she." I finished for her in a statement rather than a question, and Helga let out a heavy sigh.

"She didn't have to tell me," Helga said with a twinge of humor beneath her tone. "By the way she acted, I knew immediately what you were up to."

Silence settled between us and I fought the urge to explode in anger, frustration, and sheer disappointment. How was it that I was still so incapable of surprising Helga? How was it that even after all of this time, I was still that dense little boy unable to catch up to Helga and be the first to admit something for once.

How was it that I was somehow perpetually in the fourth grade, avoiding acting on my feelings?

Impulsively, I grabbed Helga's hand and began pulling her towards the inside of the bar, "C'mon," I told her as she followed along with an inquisitive set of eyes. "We're going somewhere."

"Where?" She scoffed out. "I thought you were going to ask me to marry you…"

"Oh, I am," I answered immediately and in a firm tone. "But I'm not doing it here."

"Ahh, a field trip, I see," Helga replied as we dodged and weaved our way through the drunken crowd of dancers cluttering the small bar. "And just where is it you have decided to take me for this romantic gesture?"

"Somewhere you won't be expecting this time," I told her with about 86% certainty. "At least… I hope."

As she set her half-empty bottle on a table that we passed by in pursuit of the door out, we finally exited the bar and began making our way down the sidewalk. I led us forward with determination while Helga trailed along in my wake; her longer legs allowing her to keep at my pace with ease.

"Seriously, what are you up to, Hair Boy?" Her tone was becoming almost nervous, and it only heightened my confidence that this new destination was where I should have brought her in the first place. It was a deep-seeded memory that we hadn't discussed since we were teenagers. This had to be the perfect place for a proposal.

This had to be it.

Continuing to drag her along, Helga's eyes shifted to take in her surroundings. Her brows furrowed as she tried to piece together the strange environment that I was leading her through—an old part of Hillwood that had been long forgotten. Most everything on each block had either been abandoned or demolished; the promises of new complexes and mini-malls now only graffitied rubble lost to the recent economic recession.

"Do you even know where we are?" Helga continued to try and coax my true purpose out of me. "You do realize that if we're lost, I am not paying for the taxi back."

It was a backhanded joke that signaled Helga was out of her element. I knew her tactics by now and she was currently baffled as to what was in store. The fact that I was going to propose tonight was already out in the open and there was no pretending it wasn't still going to happen. The way it was going to happen, however… now that was going to be vastly different.

I just hoped I was going to be able to pull it off. I didn't exactly have the greatest track record with speaking my feelings on the fly, but maybe that was for the best. In fact, by doing this completely unrehearsed, Helga would know that my words—as jumbled and clunky as they may come out—would be directly from the heart, my heart. Unrehearsed. Unpolished. Unfiltered.

Pulling Helga to a stop as we reached the corner of an unassuming block hidden in the outskirts of Hillwood, the two of us stood in place in front of a small building. Inside the window was a faded, 'For Lease' sign, and the cement that made up the foundation was filled with cracks that had allowed wild weeds to spurt from the ground and wiggle their way up towards the sky. At first glance, the building was old and decrepit—absolutely nothing special and certainly not somewhere worthy of a marriage proposal.

Glancing around at where I'd brought her, Helga eyed the building carefully before slowly turning to face me. "An abandoned building? What's so special about this place? There's nothing here."

"Exactly," I answered as Helga's brow raised in curiosity. "There isn't anything here. Not now, anyway." Looking over my shoulder, I gestured towards the dilapidated structure before continuing my thought. "It's been a lot of different things in the past, though."

"Oh really?" Helga humored me while letting go of my hand to cross her arms loosely over her chest. "Like what?"

"A clothing boutique. A tailoring company. I'm pretty sure there was a craft store in here too at one point—"

"What in the hell does any of that have to do with—" Helga interrupted, though I didn't allow her to keep talking.

Instead, I finished my sentence by asserting dominance and talking over her as she unsuccessfully tried to speak over me. "—but before all of that, this was a daycare."

Helga's eyes widened minimally, though she remained silent as if to give me the chance to continue.

And that's exactly what I did.

"Not so much a daycare as it was a pre-school, though."

More silence settled between us as Helga's eyes drifted from mine to look at the run-down building she hadn't recognized. "Urban Tots," she muttered out as though it were an afterthought rather than a declaration of acknowledgement.

At her fixation towards our old pre-school, I took the opportunity to shakily get down on one knee; my hand fumbling to reach the small box I'd been hiding inside the pocket of the jeans I was wearing. Pulling it out, Helga's eyes returned to me; water gathering at the base of her vision as she looked down at me with laser-focus.

"Helga," I began precariously, though I tried to keep myself calm as I turned the blue-velvet box over and over in my hands anxiously. "As you've proven tonight, you are and always have been one step ahead of me. Since the moment we met, something in you had the wherewithal to know that we weren't just classmates in some random neighborhood in a random city in this random universe we find ourselves living in. Something inside of you knew that we were more than that. It knew… you knew that we were so much more, that we were… that we are, soulmates."

"Arnold," Helga breathed out, but I held up a finger to stop her from saying anything else and throwing me off of my groove.

"Do you remember when we were fifteen?" I started and Helga smirked while staring at me incredulously. "You told me that you had loved me from the moment you first saw me which, to be fair, wasn't the first time you'd told me that, but I asked you when that was, when you had first seen me."

A small laugh escaped Helga as she recalled the moment I was referencing. "You'd never asked me that before. It was a stupid question."

"Not really," I countered while adjusting from where I knelt on the pavement; my knee suddenly telling me that I'd chosen the wrong time to begin kneeling. Unfortunately, it was definitely too late now to get back up, so I instead took a deep breath to calm my angry kneecap and proceeded with my story. "It's funny because the memories that I have of you and things you've done or random conversations and moments we've shared… they're different than your memories."

"How do you figure?" Helga pressed and I knitted my brows together while trying to find the most effective way to explain my thoughts.

"You have a whole other set of memories that I don't remember because, at the time, they didn't mean anything to me yet. Just like some of my memories don't align with yours because they weren't as significant to you as they were to me in that moment." I took in a sharp breath before finalizing, "A lot of your memories are different because you've known about us a lot longer than I ever did."

"Long before there even was an us, you dingus," Helga chuckled out, and I rolled my eyes at her comment.

"Anyway," I emphasized before pressing onward. "You told me all about that day, that day back at Urban Tots when we apparently first met—a memory I had never actively remembered but suddenly did as you told your side of the story. It was one of the first times you broke down that wall, completely destroyed it to bare your soul to me without insults or nicknames or jokes to cover up the raw truth. You told me about what happened before you got to the pre-school, about Olga and your parents and the rain and your lunch and-and…"

I had to stop myself because the rambling had begun to rear its ugly head. Taking a moment to collect myself, I inhaled deeply before re-routing my conversational direction so I could get back on track with the task at hand.

"I never forgot that story," I admitted while looking down at the ring box I was still playing with in my grip. "You went back to the casual bullying and nicknames, both of us knowing how we felt about each other, but I never forgot that story. Each night I'd lay in my bed staring up through the skylight at the stars and imagine that memory I'd forgotten over and over again. Your pink overalls covered in mud. That sad look in your eye. It was like you'd never been loved… like you didn't know what it meant to be loved or to love another person."

Helga chewed on her lip for a moment as though trying to find the right thing to say—something she didn't typically struggle with. After a moment, she settled on, "What's your point. Aren't proposals supposed to be romantic or something? Not some… excuse to go drudging up my messed-up past and all of the memories that I've worked really hard to forget—"

"I know, I know," I tried to subdue her before she could indulge any further in the anger that was rapidly bubbling up inside of her. "What I am saying, is that the little girl who stood right here all of those years ago… that unloved toddler is gone now, Helga. She's long gone, okay?"

Her deep azure gaze bore into me as I kept talking; my knee now completely numbed from any pain or feeling as my body began to follow suit from nervousness alone. "The woman who stands before me isstill the same feisty, stubborn, thoughtful, smart, talented… and amazing person she has always been, but unloved?" I shook my head a couple of times. "That girl from long ago and the woman of now and forevermore is not unloved. She never will be or feel unloved, ever again. And that's something that I can and do promise you."

With that, I at last presented the box and carefully opened it to reveal a golden engagement ring with an opal at its center. Surrounding the stone was a halo of small diamonds; the ring itself appearing as the most dazzling of flowers attached to a plain gold band. The ring sparkled effortlessly under the glow of the moonlight, though the sky threatened its romantic lighting with oncoming and fast-moving storm clouds.

As Helga's eyes went back and forth between the ring and myself, I kept talking; the next set of words something I had always planned to say no matter where I ended up proposing. "Helga G. Pataki, you have been my bully for as long as I can remember. You teased me relentlessly and never stopped giving me attention, no matter how much I thought I didn't want it. You confessed to me time after time that you loved me and yet, even after all of this time, I've never confessed how I feel to you—at least, not entirely. So, I guess… well… here goes."

Nodding her head for me to keep going, she pressed her lips together in a tight line as though trying to hold back the tears I could see pooling in her eyes.

"I love you. I'm head over heels, wildly, desperately, endlessly in love with you, Helga," my words were earnest; genuine. Each sentence I said with the utmost care and sincerity. "I don't just want to have you in my life, I need you in my life. I need your nicknames, your teasing, your each and every thought, your embrace… your everything because you are my everything. And this ring—" I took it out of its box and held out the specifically-chosen engagement ring for her approval, "—I chose it for a reason."

"The opal," I said while using my other hand to point to the main stone, "it's iridescent. It looks like one color, but it never really ever stays that way. It changes and evolves and looks different under whatever light is shining on it—and yet it always somehow stays the same. And that's us. That's our love. We've always loved each other. It may have looked different as we grew, but it's always been there. And if you marry me… I promise that it will always continue to be there."

Swallowing hard, Helga let out a tidbit of her own, "I thought opals had to do with love and passion," she paused for a moment before adding, "and desire. Seduction. Are you trying to get in my pants, Shortman?"

"Always," I admitted which made Helga giggle; a few stray tears jiggling loose from her laughter. "But yes, those are the other reasons why I picked it. Every time you look down at this stone, you will know that I love you. That I desire you and to be with you. That I want you passionately in every meaning and interpretation of the word. That I will be faithful, and loyal until my very last breath. With this ring… I promise that you will never, ever, ever spend another second of your life being a muddy little girl who doesn't know what love is. I will spend every moment of my life proving to you and showing you and making up for all of those times when you needed love and didn't have it."

The two of us stared at each other as I held the ring out towards her, my arm growing more tired with each second that passed. Our eyes remained locked on one another as eons, and decades, and lifetimes seemed to happen while I agonized over her answer. Why wasn't she saying yes? I'd shown her the ring… she knew what I was doing… so why hadn't she accepted yet? Was she not going to accept? Worry fluttered through my mind as a sudden thought filled my senses, What if she doesn't want to get married?

As I lost myself in my thoughts, the clearing of Helga's throat brought me back to reality; her eyes no longer wet with tears and instead looking down at me skeptically. "Hey Arnold?" She asked me and I blinked my eyes a couple of times to refocus my attention on the current moment. "I'd love to say 'yes' here and put on this super sexy and seductive ring you've so thoughtfully picked out for me—"

"Well, my mom helped…"

"Of course Stella did," Helga affirmed with a smirk before sucking in a deep breath of air. "But the whole point of a marriage proposal, as nice as your words were and all… well, you kind of left out one very, very important part."

"…huh?" was all I could manage as I stared up at her in horror.

A sly smile spread across Helga's face. "You haven't actually asked me anything yet."

"Oh god," I mumbled while shutting my eyes in utter embarrassment. "Oh, god, I just… I got so caught up in all of this and then I kneeled way too early—"

"I know!" Helga exclaimed in amusement. "Your knee must be killing you right now."

"Eh," I quickly dismissed, "I stopped having feeling in my kneecap about a minute in so you might need to help me up—"

"Because you're an old man, now. Yeah, I know," Helga teased before sighing and tilting her head slightly. "You're only getting older the longer you wait, Footballhead."

"Yeah. Yes, of course. Right. Okay," pushing through the numbness of my knee and the nervousness I still felt for no reason at all, I held the ring out once again and looked deep into Helga's ocean blue eyes. "Helga G. Pataki. Will you marry me?"

Her smile widened to reveal a toothy grin. "Criminy, Arnold. I thought you'd never ask."

As I slipped the ring onto its new home of Helga's finger, she helped to yank me up from where I'd potentially done permanent damage to my left knee.

I didn't even care.

From where the two of us kissed under the moonlight at what remained of Urban Tots Pre-School, I knew that the Helga and Arnold who had once occupied this exact spot years ago were long gone. And as the sky at last opened up, allowing buckets of rain to downpour on us, we laughed while getting soaked to the bone because this time, the rain itself didn't matter.

The only umbrella Helga needed was one made entirely of love. And, just like when we were mere toddlers, I was happy to provide it for her. Not only in the rain, but through every storm we may weather and every warm day that is enjoyed safely under the shade.

For Helga, I was prepared to hold that umbrella over her for the rest of our lives.

And I couldn't wait.

#shortaki #shortakiweek #shortakiweek2020 #shortaki week 2020 #shortaki week #hey arnold #heyarnold #helga g pataki #helga pataki #arnold shortman #helga and arnold #helga x arnold #writing prompt #fanfiction #fanfic

[animefan-overran]

Staying at Home (Originalshipping)

***PART TWO**** (SMUT RATING: MODERATE) "Wakey, wakey," Red whispered as he shook Green gently. "You've been asleep for a while, Green you really overworked yourself yesterday."

"Hmmm, hmm, what? where? huh?" Green woke up in a quiet frenzy at the sound of Red's voice. 

"Hi, sleepy head! Feeling hungry? Charizard and I whipped you up some oran berry pancakes and moomoo milk to properly thank you for taking care of me yesterday. That soup you made was absolutely delicious, and it definitely warmed up my cold." Red offered Green an award winning smile.

 Green slowly rubbed his eyes, and spotted Charizard coming around the corner with a short-stack in hand. "Char" Charizard beamed as he set the still hot pancakes in front of Green.

"Thanks, Charizard, you're a real one," Green picked up his fork, and started shoving the sweet flapjacks down his mouth. The warm burst of oran berry mixed with the fluffiness of the pancake made Green smile. Red had a natural talent for cooking, he didn't even need a recipe to make anything, unlike Green, who had to follow recipes to a tee because his sense of taste was poor. 

"So, I see you broke your fever then," Green asked, obviously knowing the answer. 

Red nodded "Yeah, so that means if you want, we can go training later today." Red offered. 

"Yeah... sure" Green hesitated picking up his glass of milk "It's just..." 

 "Just what?" Red faltered, his expression puzzled at the sudden shift in Green's tone. "It's just that..." Green downed a huge gulp of milk "ahhh... yesterday when I dropped off the soup in your room, you were talking in your sleep,"

 "I was?" Red asked "What did I say? I can't even remember what I was dreaming about, I was so sick." Red laughed. 

"Yeah..." Green continued "Well, you sounded pretty distressed. You were saying that you had to tell me something. Apparently, I was trying to leave, but you were telling me not to," Green paused to let Red register what he was saying. "Anyway, the last thing you said was that you were sorry, although I have no idea what you would be sorry for…” Green shrugged in defeat  “We're best bros, you can tell me anything. You know that right? I mean, I know it could've been a fever dream, but if you need to talk about anything, I got you." 

Green studied Red’s body language, hoping to find any anomaly that could help him decipher his rival. Red stared out into the window "Hm, now that you mention that, I can remember a little bit of what I was dreaming. You were mad at me for over training, and not looking out for myself. You decided that I wasn't worth your time anymore, and I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry you had to spend your whole day taking care of me... not very profound, but I did feel really bad yesterday."

 Green reached over for Red's chin and guided Red's head so they were face to face. "Red, you realize that I didn't have to stay yesterday, but I did it because I care about you, and when you care about someone, you would do anything for them," Green scooted closer to Red, and used his hands to cup Red's face "You see, Red, you are the closest friend that I have ever had in my life. I cannot imagine my life without you, so why would I ever leave you, or get sick of you?"

As if by  instinct, Red and Green were moving closer and closer to each other until their lips were barely touching."Green," Red whispered "I'm kind of scared... I've never,"

"never...?" Green was caught on Red's every word.

 "Never... felt this way before" Red trembled at the sheer proximity between him and Green. Never in his life had he been this close to anyone, let alone his best friend and greatest opponent. 

Green brushed some of Red's hair out of his eyes "Oh yeah, how do you..." before Green could even finish his sentence, Red had already crashed his lips onto his. The kiss started out sweet and passionate, however, within seconds, the kiss grew more fierce and powerful. Back and forth, their tongues fought for dominance until the two boys finally pulled out, fighting for air. "I gah, I didn't know you felt that way about me," Green smiled at Red as he gasped for air. "I was personally feeling the same way for a while about you, but I was too scared to initiate anything." Green timidly stated.

"Really?" Red questioned "It just came over me in the moment, and it felt right, so I went for it. However, I always took you for the go getter type of guy Green. I guess maybe not when it comes to love..." Red deduced bluntly as he scratched the back of his neck, still quite nervous from his current circumstance.

 "Well, I guess that's the difference between the two of us." Green concluded. "So, are you still up for training today?"  Green stared at Red’s form, and waited for his rival’s answer. 

Red’s expression was mildly stoic at first, but gradually developed into a lecherous leer, within seconds of hearing Green’s suggestion. "I know I said I was up for training but…  we could just stay here," Red lowered his voice with each word, scooting in closer to Green who was now leaning back further onto the couch. Green gulped in astonishment at Red’s sudden yet firm actions, not sure if this was the best thing for them to be doing. Yes, he definitely had feelings for Red, but a small part of Green had their friendship in its best interest. What would become of this friendship if they were to wander further down the current course of events? Being anything more than friends was risky business for any friendship, and Green was doubtful of such uncertainty. 

Red sensed Green’s concern for the situation reading the auburn haired boy like a book. Slowly, Red turned Green’s head so that he could whisper in his ear “Green, death comes to us all too quick. Sometimes, you need to risk something good, in order to achieve something better, even if you could end up with nothing. It’s scary, but that’s life. Don’t let me take this risk alone,” Red muttered lightly, as he brought his face in front of Green’s once again. Green’s gaze bore deeper into Red’s eyes, searching for any hints of hesitation, but came up empty handed. He released the breath that he had been holding in for the past thirty seconds. At that point, any reluctance Green felt had been stripped away from his mind.

 Green nodded as his shoulders instinctively dropped to a more relaxed state.“You know I can’t leave you alone,” Green shook his head laughing.  

Red smiled, as his eyes grew dark with passion for the boy in front of him. “Well, Green does mean go right?” he said darkly while unbuttoning the redhead’s shirt. As he spoke, he slowly started to top Green, his ending position coming to a straddle. Red made quick work of his lover’s shirt, and soon enough, his lips found their way to the chiseled yet boyish chest that was once hidden underneath it. Red started to leave love bites in every place he could. 

"Hmmmm, Red please. Stop teasing," Green whined. 

"Patience is a virtue, Green," Red tsked, as he marked Green all the way down to the buckle of his jeans. This action continued for only a couple of minutes, a spell that seemed to last for a lifetime to Green’s perception.

 "What will it take to make you go faster?" Green asked eagerly, trying his best to hold back his ever growing craving for the brunette on top of him.

"There's nothing you can do Green, so I suggest you just enjoy yourself. I want to thank you for being such a good friend to me, and now even more than a friend." Red said in a playful yet serious tone.

Green nodded and decided to heed Red's command. Afterall, he would be lying if he said he did not kind of like the side of Red that took his time. Even on their adventures, Red was always one step behind; so as with sex his mind thought in the same relaxed manner. Nevertheless, Green wondered just how long he could last under Red’s graceful yet unwavering foreplay. Right now, the ever growing problem in his boxers needed Red in the worst way possible, and patience was a limited resource in Green’s restless mind. Red paused for only a moment before he started to lick the outline of Green’s abs, which elicited a variety of pleasurable sounds from him. Red smiled as he watched Green squirm underneath him. He took a sense of pride in the fact that he could pull Green’s strings, and render him powerless in the heat of the moment.  

"You're such a beautiful person, Green. I just want you to know that by the time we're done here." Red unzipped and pulled down Green's pants and boxers, only to reveal Green's very excited member. Red traced carefully along a vein that was popping out on the side of the shaft. Green started to twitch a little, but didn't say a word. Red just smiled as his hand took grip, and started pumping up and down. 

"Mmmmmm, Red. This is better than in my dreams... um not that I've dreamed about this before..." Green blushed at this sudden burst of information.

"I better be better than your dreams," Red growled. "I'm usually not the jealous type, but I want to be the very best here, you know?" Red's grip got harder, and his pace quickened.

 "Ohhhhhhh, trust me... AHHHHHHHHH.... you ARE RED!!! YOU ARREEE!" Green panted, nearing his climax. Just when Green was about to give in, Red replaced his hands for his mouth, and shoved Green as far back into him as he could.

"Ahh Red, I..." Green went silent as his eyes rolled back into his head. And with that, Green was out and coming down. Red put Green's pants back on, buckled his belt, and laid on top of him, as the couch was too small for them to lay side by side.

 "Red," Green was finally able to say something "That was amazing, I'm sure you are the best in all of Kanto" Green mused while running his fingers through Red's hair. "However, someday, I'm gonna be better than you," Green taunted.

"Hmm, maybe in those naughty dreams of yours," Red winked.

****END OF PART TWO****

#redxgreen #red x green #greenxred #green x red #originalshipping #original shipping #namelessshipping #pokemon otp #otp #pokemon fanfic #pokemon fanfiction #pokefan #pokemon #shipping #i ship them #fanfiction #fanfic #fiction #smut #pokemon masters

[blossomhcney]

( henry golding. twenty nine. cis male. he/him. ) in texas, oliver harris is known to most as ollie. they have been riding with the diablos for eleven years . they originally from newton and the president is known to be very opinionated & cold but the other club members will tell you they are intelligent & sympathetic. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do bruises by lewis capaldi is usually heard blasting. ( unfinished books, burnt matches, half finished mugs of coffee, well worn leather jackets, missed calls at 2am. )

PINTEREST BOARD !

NAME. oliver jackson harris. NICKNAME. ollie. AGE. twenty nine. GENDER. cis male. PRONOUNS. he/him. SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. biromantic. HOMETOWN. newton. OCCUPATION. president of the diablos. AFFILIATION. diablos.

ZODIAC. capricorn. POSITIVE TRAITS. intelligent, sympathetic, level headed. NEGATIVE TRAITS. opinionated, cold, grumpy. LANGUAGES SPOKEN. english, french.

HEIGHT. 6′3 EYE COLOR. brown. HAIR COLOR. brunet. TATTOOS. can be found on the pinterest board !

QUICK INFO.

trigger warnings: mentions of child abuse, alcohol, death

it felt like oliver had been born purely to join the diablos. his father had never hidden the part he played in the club, a solider and a damn good one. oliver was the fifth child to be born into the harris family, but the first boy. oliver has always suspected that his father kept trying for a boy and once he had one, he stopped. he could now pass down his legacy to his son.

it was clear from a young age that oliver did not want to follow in his father’s footsteps. it wasn’t to say that oliver did not want to join the diablos when the time came, but he had no interest in becoming a soldier. he saw each time his father came home and the way his mother fretted over him, running around the house to ice his muscles and bring him a beer to block out the pain. the beer would never work, he would always need almost half a bottle of whiskey to warn off the pain that tomorrow would bring.

even at school, oliver would spend his time talking through things rather than using his fists. he would come home with bruised cheeks and split lips, but never split knuckles. his father could never contain his anger over his only son wanting to talk things over. it took a year of trying to beat that out of him for his father to realise that there may still be a way for oliver to become part of the club he called his family.

once his father had realised that becoming a negotiator was an option, he had begun to use his words over his fists, encouraging oliver to better himself and articulate himself in more than one way. he finally felt as though he had a father who wanted the best of him and cared about what he did with the rest of his life. perhaps oliver would not have chosen this life for himself, especially from the look on his mother’s face whenever it was mentioned, but it was written in the stars for him and there was no way he could upset his father again. not when he had finally begun to look towards a future that they would all be able to enjoy, to some degree.

oliver was fourteen when his father was killed in the line of duty. it was a funny way to describe it, but that was the only way he could allow himself to think about it. it was hardly his job, it was more than that. being a part of the diablos had been his life and he had died for that. only a year later would the truce be implemented and oliver had become so angry and cut off from the world, from the family that he loved. he was vengeful and hateful and wanted to bring about harm to the man that had killed his father. the problem was, he had no idea who had been the cause of his father’s death and thus would never be able to seek revenge.

when it came time to join the diablos, it was a lot easier than he had ever thought it would be. he had always imagined this day with his father there to encourage him and tell him he was proud of him, but he would never be able to show his father he was doing what he wanted, fulfilling his wishes. his mother had lost a husband and now gained another family member lost to the diablos. not in the sense that he was dying, but oliver was a part of their family now and he knew he would, one way or another, end up like his father. perhaps not dead, but in some way lost to his family once they took over him.

he’s a good negotiator by all accounts. he speaks clearly and loudly and fulfils the wishes of those he spokes on behalf of. he manages to stay as level headed as his father had taught him, able to hide even the most sinful of thoughts from showing on his face, something he had always struggled with as a teenager. he still misses his father as much as the day he died, but he felt like, to some extent, he was still with him.

it was easier than he thought it would have been, stepping up. it made sense at the time and it still did now. the thing was, things had to change for oliver for him to become the president he needed to be, the president that the diablos needed him to be. his cold exterior was already a plus for his new role and he adapted to that easily, keeping people out had never been easier. ruthless was another that could be tacked onto his new traits. he had never thought of himself as it before, never wanting to fall into that stereotypical role of a gang member, but now, well, that went straight out the window the first time somebody crossed him. there was an example to be made and oliver had, very easily, done what he saw fit. 

there is a semblance of the old oliver in there somewhere, but he’s practically nonexistent these days. his father had primed him for such a life, amongst the love and humour of their life, he had tried his hardest to let him know that one day, he wouldn’t be able to stand by and talk things over. one day, things would get bad enough that even oliver would need to throw a punch or two to prove his point. that day had come and the resistance was a lot less than what he had expected, what he had hoped. he had imagined it being an internal battle that almost ripped him in two through the sheer force of it, but in reality, it was much simpler. oliver had been faced with a decision that either left the diablos to watch as he allowed somebody to make a fool out of him and talk it through with them, or watch as he put a bullet in them for their misfortunes. not much thought had gone into the decision, he knew it was a choice between the gang losing their faith in him or admiring him. perhaps some would wonder what had happened to the oliver they all knew only weeks before, but that was the least of his worries when he had a gang to lead and lead he would. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

best friends / ride or die - who doesn’t know the deal with this by now??? somebody that ollie can rely on and vent to

drinking buddies - as much as ollie prefers to drink coffee, there are always times where he needs a stiff drink. somebody who he can text and will always be up for a drink even at short notice ! 

exes - ollie has found it hard to slip into intimacy, so these would be rare and likely from years ago 

childhood friends - ollie has lived in newton forever and definitely needs some buds ! plus anyone that had a parent in the diablos would likely have been his friend if they also grew up around all of that ! 

hook ups / one night stands - ahh so much easier than dating, ollie will always enjoy a one night stand over real intimacy lmao

flirtationship - very self explanatory, but somebody he has never once considered sleeping with, but he loves to joke around with them and have a little flirt

bad influences - or good, depending on where you stand. somebody that just gets ollie to loosen up a little and relax. he’s so tightly wound and he just needs to live a little, but he definitely needs a push in the right direction.

#rideintro. #( 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 / oliver harris. )

[theda-rison]

Thursday Night Link Roundup - December 3rd

Hello! Happy end of Nanowrimo! I hope you won, and if you didn’t win, I hope you learned something important that will help you win next year :)

So I had to cool it on the Thursday Night Link Roundups for a bit; I just didn’t have the time to devote to arranging and having opinions about stuff (and then writing them down for you guys to read) between work and Nano. But, at least until the stuff for my Steno Keyboard gets here, I have nothing to do now (aside from work, but it’s not like I do that for fun or anything).

Anyway, let’s jump into it. *bad green screen of me jumping into the internet, à la a 90s infotainment VHS about the internet*

If you haven’t already watched it, here’s the third part of Ms Luna Oi’s series on Dialectical Materialism. After all the things she discussed in the other two videos, she discusses the three basic rules of Materialist Dialectics.

Since it’s been a while since I watched this video (because of my unintended break) so I can’t remember too much detail on it, but it is a good video.

This video… I can’t tell how old the two people in it are: they go back and forth between sounding like old codgers (at least) in their 50s and “the youngin’” because of all the Minecraft references. I am so confused. Untitled Engineering Disaster Podcast-like content Episode 1: The Silver Bridge Disaster by donoteat01, which later went on to become a podcast called Well There’s Your Problem, which has its own youtube channel.

I had no idea about all of this stuff about bridge building. I knew some of the details of the Silver Bridge disaster, but I didn’t know about the eyebars (or I forgot about it) or the rocker towers. Like… I can’t imagine the thought process that goes into “what is the towers themselves moved?” when like… normally they don’t? I’m not an engineer but it seems like such a weird way to solve a problem. “What if this gigantic, heavy thing weren’t solid and needed to be held up by these precarious chain links?” is not a thought I could imagine crossing my mind even if I were an engineer. 

Also: the sheer inanity of making something that you don’t have the technology to detect problems (the hairline crack in the eyebar).

I can’t understand why no one blamed the company who built the bridge, btw. They built a shit bridge and should have been sued.

When I was in my early 20s, I remember justifying my dropping out of graphic design “college” (it wasn’t) by saying something like, “Why the fuck would I want to spend my life convincing a bunch of people to buy shit they don’t need with money they don’t have?” when one of my parents’ friends told me I could have gone into advertising. Not the first time I’ve had thoughts of a popular philosopher in my youth without having heard of them beforehand. (“Do I exist because I think? IF I STOP THINKING, WILL I STOP EXISTING??” suddenly popped into my head and caused an existential crisis for a few days when I was in junior high.)

Tom Nicholas explains the Society of the Spectacle, which partly involves the explanation of how advertisement companies are selling an image rather than an actual product. Trying to game the “Keeping up with the Joneses,” idea, if you will.

I, like many kids, read Dr. Seuss books. They might be one of the things that really made me love the English language, just because of how he bent and shaped it into the amazing poetry that went along with his strange and wonderful art. I distinctly remember reading And To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry street in the grade “before I was supposed to be reading it” and being asked by the teacher how I was even understanding it (I guess the rest of the class was on “See Spot Run” type of books or whatever). I can’t even remember my answer. Probably a shrug and then wishing they would leave me alone so I could get back to reading, lol.

But Dr. Seuss had even weirder art that I can appreciate now as an adult. Solar Sands’ video, The Secret Darker Art of Dr. Seuss, shows off some of his “Midnight Paintings” that he painted for himself. I need to see if there was ever an art book published of all or any of it, because they’re so interesting. You can still see his strangely whimsical style, many but with darker colors that almost make them seem more… horror-ish.

I forgot that I had the first part of this ProZD video in the list before this. Here’s the next part.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sasdCg4da4o

Ahh…. I miss Vine.

Songs of the Week:

KILL BILL (The Lonely Shepherd) by Luca Stricagnoli

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6ghK-z3qsY

I don’t know what the contraption is that this guy made, but it sounds really cool in the song. Also, props for making a whole little set to play in, lol.

Lamb of God - Grace (hurdy gurdy cover) by Michalina Malisz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-W-s6yHlbtA

I will admit, I do not listen to Lamb of God, I’m not sure why but it’s a band I’ve never gotten into. However, I love the way this song sounds on Hurdy Gurdy and I might check out the actual band now. If I don’t like it, I’ll just listen to this cover over and over. 

Also, how is there not a Doom Metal or Ambient Black Metal hurdy gurdy band yet? Some amazing musician, please make this.

Djent 2018 by Jared Dines

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYrN7EIeXmY

I don’t know if I’ve ever even heard a Djent song before. Like, I could not tell you the name of a Djent band, and then all of a sudden - I guess around 2018 - my feed was filled with people making fun of it. I don’t know, I like the way this song sounds at least? Maybe there’s something about the vocals that makes it suck? I have no idea. I have no desire to investigate further.

I don’t know, it’s giving me strong Gojira vibes in certain spots.

Unlike my desire for a Doom Metal (or Ambient Black Metal) hurdy gurdy band, I’m fine with just this.

#3rd #December #2020 #December 3rd 2020 #luna oi #marxism #dialectical materialism #material dialectics #Well There's Your Problem #Silver Bridge disaster #Mothman #Guy Debord #society of the spectacle #advertising #philosophy #Tom Nicholas #Dr. Seuss #Solar Sands #The Midnight Paintings #ProZD #Vine #Kill Bill #Luca Stricagnoli #Lamb of God #Grace #hurdy gurdy #Michalina Malisz #Jared Dines #Djent 2018

[k-renne]

Ok, so going off your Clyde imagine....let's say he does get the courage to Finally engage in conversation. And then a few weeks later he has just enough courage to ask her out...fast forward a few dates (bc let's face it Clyde is a gentleman and isn't going to take her to bed on the first date) and his fantasy comes true ....how hit is that going to be????

That’s also how I would see Clyde dating, maybe one night he’s feeling confident enough to talk to you and something starts slowly from there. It’s hard for me to seriously see him bedding someone on the first date (I’ve written some stuff where it’s fast but we’re not counting that). I think he’s the type of man who really values getting to know a person, and he just needs it to be comfortable enough to be intimate with another person. This is how I see things going with him.

You decided to drop by and surprise Clyde on his night off, you hoped he wouldn’t mind. You ended up getting out of your shift early and decided to stop by his place instead of going straight home, if anything to just say a quick hello. The door was open so you let yourself in, calling out to Clyde as you wandered through his trailer. Jimmy just grins when he sees you, knowing his little brother is in for a real treat. 

“Hey, you here to see my brother?”

“Yes I am, is he around?” 

“In fact he is, just reading a book in his room or somethin’. I don’t really know what he gets up to when he spends so much time in is room, and I don’t like to ask.” Jimmy shakes his head. 

“Oh you don’t think he’d mind if I said hello then, we weren’t planning on seeing each other today I just got off work early and I thought it’d be nice.”

Jimmy just smiles again, happy knowing someone pretty is wanting to see his brother like you are. Clyde had a thing for you for a long time too, and now something was finally happening between the two of you. “Oh I don’t think he’d mind at all, you don’t even have to knock. His door is just at the end of the hall, I’m gonna go out for a few hours I got some errands to run. Give y’all some privacy.” 

“Jimmy you don’t have to do that we’ll be just fine,” You flush, thinking of being alone with Clyde in his home. 

Jimmy just laughed and shook his head, got up to leave anyways. “Have fun, don’t make a mess and use protection!” 

Once he closed the door behind him you headed on towards Clyde’s room, about to knock but hesitating once you remembered what Jimmy said. You opened the door to see Clyde, pants undone down his thighs and his shirt slightly exposing his belly, his hand jerking his cock as he moaned your name. So lost in his pleasure he continued, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from his flushed dick. Just the sheer size of it alone had your mouth watering, it was just so big and thick. 

The fan in his room had muted his moans, and your entrance. Clyde’s eyes were shut tight as he imagined you, a fantasy of fucking you over the bar counter. “Ah yes that’s right sweetheart, fuck ya have such a perfect pussy mmm-fuck I want it so bad.” 

“Clyde…” You couldn’t help but gasp at his words, suddenly calling attention to your presence.

His eyes snapped open, panic filling them in realization. He scrambled to cover himself, face growing hot with shame. “Ah shit-no! M’so sorry ya shouldn’t have to see that, fuck sweetheart how long have ya been standin’ there?” Clyde held a pillow over his lap, still very aware of his dick twitching for attention, to see you standing there. 

“Um long enough-but it’s okay I don’t mind,” You say quickly. 

Clyde’s eyes almost bug out of his head, “You don’t mind? Don’t think I’m some sorta pervert?”

“No, I should’ve knocked. But, I mean it’s only natural…I do it too,” You admit, trying to make him feel less embarrassed. 

Clyde licked his lips, the thought of you touching yourself like that was something hot that his mind very much enjoyed thinking about. “You do it too?” He asked, his voice lowering. 

“Oh now don’t make me talk about it,” You squirm, embarrassed. You’d kissed Clyde, but the two of you haven’t gotten much further than that. 

Clyde brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “Well-do ya like it?” His eyes searched your face for validation. 

“L-like what?”

“Ya know…” He looked down at his lap. He wanted to know what you thought of him, now that you saw it. 

Your face felt hotter than ever as you nodded, biting your lip. Excitement jumped in Clyde’s chest, and suddenly he became eager for a lot more with his arousal jutting against the soft fabric of the pillow. “Would ya like to see it again, I know it ain’t the prettiest thing in the world sweetheart but I don’t think it’s gonna get any less hard with ya here.” 

Your lips parted in surprise for a moment, “Okay,” you said softly. Clyde patted the space next to him on the bed and you sat next to him. 

“Oh c’mere,” He looked down at you, softly kissing your lips as you inched closer. He hummed as he kissed you, pulling back with a loving expression. You couldn’t help but steal another kiss from him, cupping his sweet face in your hands, you noticed the pillow lifting out of the corner of your eye. You pulled away to look at him, nodding again. 

Clyde gently placed the pillow to the side, his cock jumping back up to attention. It looked even bigger up close and you couldn’t help but stare. Clyde was gazing at you, reading your reaction to him. The way you were staring at him with such fascination, he could feel more precum dribble from the head of his cock. 

“Here,” Clyde took your hand in his, guiding it to wrap around his length, his breath getting shaky as your finger tips grazed over him. “I can show ya, if you’d like darlin’.” He looks at you, eyes hopeful. 

“Please.” You nodded. 

Clyde grinned, this was already better than any of his fantasies. “Just hold your hand like this, don’t be afraid to be a little rough sweetheart.” He spoke softly to you, having you slowly work your hand up and down his length. You concentrated as you tightened your grip around him, letting out a breath as his cock pulsed in your hand. Something about holding him like this, as he coached you with sweet words-it made you start to feel wet. 

As Clyde guided you back up to the pace he was stroking at, he took his hand away and slid it around your waist. “Just-keep going like that sweetheart. Fuck you’re doing so good with me, ya gotta let me know if ya don’t like a mess. Keep goin’ like that and I’ll cum all over your hand.” Clyde said with his voice tight. 

“Y-you can cum on me,” You replied. 

Clyde just let out a groan, tilting his head to place a kiss on your neck. “So good,” He spoke against your skin, his hot breath fanning your collar. 

You let your hand do the work as you gave Clyde a kiss, his tongue desperately seeking your mouth. You smiled at him when you parted, and he just had a look on his face that let you know that he was completely gone. Both of you watched as you twisted your wrist up and down his cock, barely able to get your whole hand around him. 

Clyde started to babble on the closer he got, “Mmm sweetheart you’re workin’ me so good, only reason I been like this is cause of you. Ya make my dick so fuckin’ hard, s’not even polite.”  

You laid a quick kiss over his beard, Clyde panting now. “Ahh-sweetheart-mmm,” He moaned as hot jets of cum spilled over your fist, some shooting so far it landed on your cheeks. 

You brought your cum covered hand to your face, tongue darting out to get a taste of him. Clyde just moaned all over again. “Darlin’ fuck I made a real big mess of you know-look at you-ah it’s on your face!” Clyde’s eyes widened, getting himself all worked up all over again. “Y-you look so pretty right now-can’t even describe it.” He shook his head. 

He cupped your dirtied cheek in his hand, leaning in to nuzzle you. “You better believe I got something to give to you in return sweetheart, don’t even think otherwise.” 

#clyde logan x reader #filth #the part before was his fantasy and this is how things would actually go #happy sinday

[hypnotized-so-mesmerized]

Epilogue. Author. Autobiography !

Hi! Thank you so much for asking me these! :) 

Epilogue: What is a book that made you cry?

Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. I read this in high school when I was easily able to get through 500 page + books in 1 sitting. But this book..made me stop MULTIPLE times just from the sheer depth and emotion of what I was reading. I love this book, but it is absolutely a heavy read and is graphically detailed at parts. It’s about the Holocaust but it brings you up close to those moments and atrocities in history in a way that no other book I’d read at the time had done. So there were many moments I just had to close the book, stop, absorb everything I’d read and process my emotions, and definitely cried during a few of those. 

Author: What is a book you really regret buying? 

Wuthering Heights.  I just was NOT able to get through it when I tried to read it. Admittedly this was Senior year of high school, so maybe if I read it now I’d be able to finish it? But not sure cause we had to read Heart of Darkness that year too which was also a struggle to finish (I appreciated the symbolism and things from a literary aspect after we discussed it in class but it was still a tough read) but I was able to finish it? 

Autobiography: Who is the protagonist you most relate to?

Ahh okay, so I struggled with answering this a bit. My first instinct was Anne Shirley from the Anne of Green Gables series. I first read Anne of Green Gables in 4th grade and fell in love with the book and with Lucy Maud Montgomery’s writing, and read the whole series over the next few years. I’ve always been imaginative and a day dreamer, but when I was younger I was also more daring and assertive like Anne was and definitely got myself into some “disasters” like Anne did (though most weren’t quite at the same scale haha).  I feel like a lot of those things aren’t the most true anymore, even though I would like them to be? I very much am still a day dreamer and imaginative though, so I relate to her a lot but im someways her character, specially in her college and post-grad years, is someone I aspire to be right now. 

Another character I relate to is Parvati from Shiva’s Fire, I read this book in high school and she was the first Indian protagonist or honestly character I had ever seen in a book and as an Indo-American girl I felt connected to her in so many ways. But beyond that, her love and passion for dance made me relate to her in a way I had never related to a character before so that was really wonderful too. I want to re-read this book now haha. 

Thank you so much for asking again! I’m so sorry about the long answers! Also realized how long its been since I read a book, wow... 

#seek-rest #ask

[zombiesbecrazy]

Pity Free Confessions

Summary: Sometimes you play video games with your best friend. Sometimes you blurt out about your unrequited love problems. Sometimes you do both.

Written for DickBabs Week - Day 2 Prompt - Best Friends

Note: OMG, I completely forgot that it was DickBabs Week! I totally don't have time to write anything, yet, here we are. Day 2 Prompt - Best Friends.This stands alone but if you've read any of my other DickBabs fics, this comes six months after Chapter 2 of Five Times with Feeling and directly before Strike, Hit, Throw. Unedited and rushed, but I needed to participate and spread the DickBabs love :)

AO3

“I find myself in a bit of a conundrum.”

“Which is?”

“I’m in love with my best friend.”

To Wally’s credit, he didn’t even look away from the screen and continued to mash the buttons on the controller. Hell, he didn’t even blink. They were alone in the Tower today, between missions and everyone else busy in their own cities with their own mentors, leaving the two of them to waste the day away playing video games and eating junk food.

It felt good to relax and ignore a lot of his problems for a while, but there was something that Dick had been unable to ignore for months and if he didn’t say something soon he was going to explode, which is why he had suddenly just blurted it out to Wally.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because you’re great, but you’re not really my type. I appreciate your interest though.” Wally’s character jumped into a hoard of thugs on top of a building and he was focusing on trying to take them all down in the time limit.

“Gee, thanks. Not you.”

His hands gripped the controller tighter and started moving his arms like he could make his character fight better with sheer will and enthusiasm. “Donna’s like your sister. That would be weird. Don’t be in love with her either.”  

Coughing, Dick choked on the root beer that he was drinking and it almost came out his nose. Damn, that hurt. “Shut up.” Dick punched Wally’s shoulder, making his character fall from a rooftop, die and respawn at the beginning of the mission. That made Wally finally turn and glare at him. “I’m meant Barbara, you butthead.”

“Thought as much, but you should have used her name. You have too many best friends.” Wally hit pause on the game and looked at him. “You should tell her.”

“She’s got other things on her mind.” Dick flopped back on the couch dramatically, sinking into the cushions. What he wouldn’t give for it to come to life and swallow him whole rather than deal with his emotional turmoil. Stupid brain. Stupid heart. Neither of them seemed to be able to just turn off for a while. “More important things than dealing with my unrequited love.”

“How do you know it’s unrequited?” asked Wally, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table in front of them that was littered with their snacks. “She’d be lucky to be in love with you. Anyone would be.”

“I thought I wasn’t your type?”

“Just because the two of us aren’t meant to be it doesn’t mean you aren’t a catch.” Wally looked Dick over and sighed. He pulled the blanket off from behind the couch and put it on top of Dick’s melted form on the couch. Dick must have looked pathetic if Wally was trying to mother hen him like that. “Tell her.”

“It’s not the right time.” A lot had happened in their lives in the past six months. Barbara had been shot. Jason had been killed. Bruce was continuously furious all of the time. No one needed to see him moping around after a girl like a little lost puppy; especially not the girl herself. She was getting her life back together and shouldn’t have to deal with his mini crisis. Why hadn’t he figured this out at a better time? Or why couldn’t he at least still be in denial about it? It would be easier that way. Ahh, blissful denial.

“It’s always the right time to hear that someone loves you. It’s like a big word hug.”

“It’s scary,” groaned Dick back and he pulled the blanket up over his head. He knew he was pouting and whining and acting like a little kid not wanting to eat his vegetables, but that didn’t matter in front of Wally. The good thing about having a best friend was that you could tell them anything.

The worst part was that they would call you on your bullshit even if you didn’t want to hear it. Especially then.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I present Nightwing, hero and defender of Gotham and Bludhaven. His kryptonite is emotions. Don’t worry though, it was passed down to him from his Bat-father.” He could hear Wally’s voice dripping with sarcasm but didn’t budge from under the blanket. When he didn’t get a reaction, he heard Wally sigh. “You are such a drama queen.” He pulled the blanket back down off of Dick’s face. “Love is a great feeling. It doesn’t have to be scary.”

“Okay fine. Verbalizing it is scary.”

“You just told me that you love her and the world didn’t end.”

“And I was terrified to do that. Telling her is a thousand times worse.” But he had to admit that he felt a little bit better now that he wasn’t the only one in on the secret. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” It didn’t. Not really. It wouldn’t change anything about the way he felt anyway. “I just don’t want things to change between us and to get all weird. I don’t want to tell her that I love her, hear that she doesn’t feel the same way and then have to see the… the… pity in her eyes when she looks at me.” He sat up but kept the blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders. “Look at Dick, with his silly little crush. He’s a delicate little flower who needs to be tiptoed around and be given gentle hugs and spoken to like he might shatter at any moment.”

“You like hugs.”

“Not pity hugs.”

“She won’t give you a pity hug.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Dude. She just went through something huge. She’s still going through something huge. She understands better than anyone about not wanting anyone’s pity.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. I’m right.” Wally started to stare very intently at his hands that were fidgeting in his lap. “Did I tell you I went to visit her in the hospital?”

“What? No. Neither of you said anything.” Wally just nodded and he turned a little pink. Dick poked him and he gave a little yelp. “What happened?” prodded Dick.

“She yelled at me for visiting her out of pity.” Dick winced in sympathy. He had been at the receiving end of more than one of Barbara’s anger explosions before and it was never pretty, usually because she was right to be dishing it out. “I deserved it. She wasn’t completely wrong. I didn’t realise it until later, but it was at least a little out of pity,” said Wally before he turned to sheepishly look back at Dick. “She and I are friends, but we aren’t that close. She pointed out that me visiting her in the hospital when I would never have seen her otherwise was more about making myself feel better and she didn’t want that.” Dick understood. She had been upset that he visited her in the hospital the first time when she had explicitly told him not to and she was one of his best friends. He could imagine how angry she’d be about Wally. “So no. She’s not going to give you a pity hug. Even if she doesn’t feel the same way about you, she still cares about you a lot.”

“Have you talked to her since?”

“We’re cool. We’ve texted, which is what I should have done in the first place. We’re texting level friends, not visit in the hospital after you’ve been paralyzed level friends. I’ve been sending her videos of people doing extreme wheelchairing in skate parks. She says she likes them.”

Dick smiled, because while he hadn’t heard about Wally’s visit, she had been sharing the videos with him too; he just hadn’t know the origins. “When did you get so wise?”

“I’ve always been wise, but no one ever listens. It’s a curse.” Wally unpaused the game and started the mission again. “But in this case, I had a feisty red head yell at me.”

“Story of my life. Too many best friends and too many red heads, and all of them yell at me.”

“You should make a Venn Diagram of where those all intersect. It would be an interesting thing to study.”

Dick watched as Wally’s onscreen hero ran through a dark all to pick up a weapon before heading back to the rooftop where he was about to be killed again. He didn’t have enough XP for it to go any other way, but Wally was stubborn. Wally cleared his throat, eyes glued to the screen. “So… Babs,” he began again, not dropping the conversation.

“Babs,” sighed Dick.

“Like, full on love. Not just a crush. Not just ‘hey that girl is swell’. Full on love with a capital L and heart eyes.”

Dick couldn’t hold back a grin even just thinking about how he felt about her. He was so deep down the rabbit hole. “Yep.”

“I repeat, you should talk to her.”

“We’re meeting up tomorrow for some sparring. She’s been doing weapons training now that she’s out of rehab and I want to see how it’s coming along.” She had been talking about her training with Richard Dragon and that she was learning escrima at a higher level, and yes, he did want to see her new skills, but…

“Or you just want to see her.”

Damn, Wally could read him like a book. “Yeah.”

“Because you want to kiss her.” Wally made kissy face noises at him and Dick hit him again, once again making Wally fall off the building again and die. “That was your fault. I had them that time.”

“No, you didn’t. And don’t be crude.”

Wally tossed the controller onto the table and grabbed a bag of chips, tossing one into his mouth and crunching it loudly, purely because he knew the sound of it irritated Dick. “I think it’s sweet that you are still innocent enough that you think I’m crude for mentioning kissing.”

“It’s not that… it’s…” Dick shook his head, embarrassed to be talking about this with anyone. Everyone had emotions. Why was it so weird to talk about them? “I don’t just want to kiss her.”

Wally snorted. “Who’s being crude now?”

“You are officially my least favourite of my best friends,” said Dick, rolling his eyes. “I just want… everything for her. I want her to be happy. I want to be the one to help make her happy. Somehow. In any way possible”

“You are a hopeless romantic to the core.”  Wally sat back on the couch and dropped his arm around Dick’s blanket covered shoulders. “You know my opinion. Just tell her. No risk, no reward.”

“No risk, no heart breakage,” countered Dick.

“Minimal complete heart breakage potential. At absolute worst, she’ll let you down gently and you’ll still be friends. Yeah, you’ll be a down for a while, but that is when we solve your problems with ice cream.”

The worse that Wally suggested sounded terrible and he wanted to avoid it all costs even though he knew that in the grand scheme of issues ‘one of my best friends doesn’t love me as much as I love her’ is pretty minor. Still wanted to avoid it like the plague though. “And best case scenario?”

“That she is hopelessly in love with you too? We celebrate with ice cream. Either way, there will be ice cream. The difference is that celebration ice cream has better topping options.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Dick, chuckling. “Thanks, Wally. I take it back. You aren’t my least favourite best friend. Definitely top three. And not just because you are promising me ice cream.”

“On the podium. I’ll take it.”

Wally was right though. Dick was a vigilante. A hero. He had faced far worse things than being in love every day and had come out unscathed. Well, maybe a little scathed, but still intact. He could do this. He could finally tell Barbara the truth. He was brave enough to face that answer head on.

Maybe it was finally time to take that leap.

#dickbabs week #dick grayson #wally west #barbara gordon #dickbabs

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (51) || atz

You don’t know what to do anymore.

Everything is falling apart to pieces, the world around you, the people at your side, you yourself, crumbling into ruins. Yunho is suffering from poison, having been stabbed in the side by his dearly beloved brother himself, who is cooperating with Commander Kang, Vice-Commander of the Royal Navy’s Red Rose fleet.

He also happens to be Yeosang’s estranged father and the man with the antidote to Yunho’s poison. He wants your captain to give up his magical knot, the nautical maps, you, and Yeosang in exchange for pardons for the whole crew… and Yunho’s antidote.

Wooyoung is avoiding you like you’re down with the plague, refusing to look you in the eye and cutting short all your feeble attempts at conversation with curt, uninterested replies. He’s become like some sort of wraith, gone more times than he is present, and the immense loneliness that clenches deep in you doesn’t help at all with the pains that have started to emerge in your chest.

You’re terrified. Terrified about exactly what exactly is happening to you.

And then the Kraken…

The Kraken is dead.

Jongho had reported the incident to your captain the moment the four of you had returned to the vessel, him being more worried about the Royal Navy ship present in the waters as compared to the death of the Kraken, but you had barely reacted to his worried questions, unable to comprehend what you had just seen.

The ancient Kraken is… dead.

You sit against the mast in empty silence, watching the stars blankly as the ship sails beneath them on a sea reflecting the galaxies in the night sky, lost in the majestic wonder of the sight and in your thoughts. Tonight, the air is freezing, and instinctively your hand reaches out next to you, seeking for the usual warmth that is always present by your side.

Then your fingers falter, halting hesitantly in mid air when they find nothing but cold, empty space.

Despair wells up in you and your hand falls back to your side, limp. Your head falls forwards as you try to hold back the sudden, warm tears that threaten to slip from your eyes. It hurts, deep in your chest, as real and raw as the sporadic pains you’ve been experiencing since leaving the Grand Iguana, and perhaps if you’re honest with yourself, even more so.

When you close your eyes and wish hard enough, with all of your might, you can see Wooyoung’s content smile as he lounges on the deck next to you, eyes fixated on the stars overhead. Wish a little more and you can feel the comforting weight of his head resting on your shoulder, the warmth of your intertwined hands in the lining of his pocket. Even if it was all a lie, even if he had never really cared about you, even if you were nothing more than a game to him, you just want to stay in that single moment forever, trapped in your knitted cocoon of comforting lies.

But you don’t have time to be worrying about those things, you think as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes. Because there are so many more problems that you need to focus on, bigger ones that are looming over you in spite of your own troubles.

Yunho is still dying.

And San doesn’t have a cure.

“I don’t know how to create the antidote.”

You don’t know what you should do, to be honest. There are all manner of emotions rushing through you right now – fear – despair – hopelessness – anger; directed at yourself or someone else, you don’t know, but all that matters is that Yunho is dying.

And that neither you nor San can do anything to stop it.

Slumping against the mast once more, you let out another exhausted sigh. You’re tired, completely worn out, battered from the constant strain and worries on your mind. All you want to do is lie down and sleep, but you can’t bring yourself to go to bed in front of your master, who is still burning midnight oil night after night as he and Yeosang search fruitlessly for an antidote.

You can’t bear to see the haggard, gaunt expression on his face as he rifles through the same books yet again, knowing full well in his heart that they don’t have the answers he needs, that only powerful magic could hope to have any sort of effect on the poison. You can’t continue to hear your master sob quietly to himself every night from under your covers as his worry for Yunho and the sheer weight of his failure takes its toll on him, the candlelight flickering across his face only making the tear tracks on his cheeks all the more pronounced.

And in the morning, when he wears a bright, falsely cheerful grin, telling you that everything will be alright, guilt eats away at you like a starving man when you know that he is the one who needs your comfort instead.

You bury your head in your hands with a soundless scream. Your sanity feels like it’s ripping apart at the seams, unraveling and crumbling to ash. There are too many worries and burdens stifling you from within, choking you like poisonous ivies, the thorns digging into your lungs and suffocating you of the air that you so desperately need. You want to spill everything in your chest to someone else, to relieve the burden from your shoulders, but who would be able to lend you a listening ear at this time of the night?

You glance about the deck instinctively. All your crewmates are sleeping below decks, San and Yeosang are tirelessly researching into the night for a cure, Wooyoung still won’t speak to you, and your captain… he…

Actually, why don’t you speak to your captain?

Leaping to your feet, you nearly trip over empty air in your haste as you scramble to the captain’s cabin. To your immense relief, you can see the faint flicker of candlelight coming through the glass windows, signifying that your captain is not yet asleep. You raise a trembling hand, and after a moment of hesitation, rap on the heavy wooden door with your knuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

You’re left hanging for a moment when there’s a brief moment of silence, but before your hand can fall to the side in disappointment, a soft, raspy voice comes from behind the closed door.

“Come in.”

Relief floods through you and you pull open the door, stepping into the dimly lit interior of your captain’s cabin. Knowing that he usually sleeps in the hammock in the corner, your eyes flit there at first glance, but you’re surprised to find it empty. Instead, you finally see him at the glass window overlooking the sea, lounging on a chair there as he stares unblinkingly at the scene outside. He’s in a state of casual undress, signature red jacket slung over his shoulder and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows as his fingers dance absentmindedly on a sheaf of thick parchment paper on his lap.

Then the smell of alcohol hits you like a punch to the gut.

In his other hand is a bottle of liquor, and from the pungent scent it’s a strong, powerful one. For a moment, you’re actually worried; is your captain too unable to cope with the pain and fear of losing his friend? Taking a hesitant step forward, you call out to your captain softly.

“Captain? Are you alright?”

If Hongjoong is surprised that you’ve come to search for him in the wee hours of morning, he doesn’t show it, subtly sliding the bottle of alcohol behind a curtain before he begins to tidy the papers on his lap as if he hasn’t heard your question in the least. When he’s satisfied with the state they’re in, he finally turns to glance at you.

“Ahh, Chin Hae, what do you need from me?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Because your captain, Kim Hongjoong, is not wearing his eyepatch.

You’ve never actually thought about what was under that slip of black cloth. As the eyepatch has just… always been there, in some way you’ve forgotten that beneath your captain’s eyepatch, there are the scars of your captain’s childhood. You remember that your captain had told you once how his father had abandoned him on an island and shot him in the head, causing him to lose his eye in what must have surely been a traumatic accident for any child.

But the alcohol must have addled with your captain’s mind a lot more than you’d thought, because he doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that he’s not wearing his eyepatch, instead cocking his head curiously to the side as he awaits for your response.

Your own eyes trace his face, lingering on his right eye as much as you try to tear your gaze away in polite courtesy. The eyepatch is such a big part of his wardrobe, even more significant than his red jacket itself, that you feel like he’s bared a part of himself to you without intending to.

You’re not going to lie. The scar is ugly, shallow ridges of scar tissue joining his skin of to his cheek, slightly fainter in colour than the smooth, unblemished skin around it. It mars what you would have almost called a flawless face, an unsightly stain upon what was once a perfect, white canvas.

You can almost imagine the sight happening before your eyes. Your captain as a young, innocent child, still with both soft green eyes and not yet exposed to the horrors of the world, scrambling backwards desperately in the sand, terror sending his body into sheer mind numbing panic as the one person who was supposed to protect him raises a musket to his head.

And it’s the last thing he’ll ever see out of that eye.

Your captain’s other eye, the healthy, working one, is a hazy green, dulled by the alcohol and pain. It takes him more than a second to realise what you’re looking at, his mind fogged over with liquor, but when he does, you’re terrified, yanking your eyes back to the ground as you can.

But it’s already too late.

“Get out!” Hongjoong roars, every syllable trembling with rage, rising to his feet in one explosive action. The papers on his lap slide to the ground and scatter everywhere, but they’re the least of your troubles right now. At the moment, you’re a lot more concerned about how your captain is practically looming over you, handsome face twisted in fury, warm breath hitting your cheeks. Your eyes are drawn back to his eye once more, almost instinctively, and Hongjoong clamps one hand over the scar, so hard that his fingers turn white, turning away from you so you can’t see it any longer, shoulders wound tight with tension.

Your heart breaks.

“Captain-”

“I said, get out.” He seethes, making to move across the room to his table, where his eyepatch lies. But the alcohol must have affected him a lot more than you thought, because he only manages five steps before his knees give out beneath him and he crumples to ground in a limp heap with a cry of pain. A yelp of horror leaves your mouth and you rush to help him, but he merely waves you off, one hand still pressed tight over his eye.

The message is clear. He doesn’t want you seeing his eye.

“Get me my eyepatch.” Hongjoong manages through gritted teeth and you scramble to obey, feeling the rough cloth beneath your fingers as you pluck it from the tabletop. Your captain practically snatches it from your hands when you return with it, yanking it over his eye as fast as he can.

The two of you remain there for a moment, your captain trying to get his breathing under control as you merely stay still before him, afraid to move. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and it’s only now that you notice his sallow cheeks, the old rum stains on his shirt. He’s been drowning all his fears and sorrows in liquor, and your heart only shatters more when you recall the brave front he’s been putting on in front of you and all the crew.

“I’m… I apologise.” Hongjoong finally rasps and your eyes dart to his face. His fingers still linger at his eyepatch, as if subconsciously trying to hide his scarred eye, his expression almost unreadable, forlorn, defeated. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. You should go.”

Part of you does want to leave, terrified of what might happen if you stay here any longer. But even more than that, you’re worried about your captain. He’s clearly completely drunk on both alcohol and his emotions, and you can’t just leave him on the floor like that. So, mustering your courage, you put an arm around him and yank him to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in your chest when you do so, pulling him to Yeosang’s bed.

All the fight has clearly evaporated from your captain, because he merely goes along with what you’re trying to do, a complete turn from earlier when he’d been shouting at you to leave, albeit on unsteady feet. When Hongjoong reaches the bed, he simply topples over onto the mattress with a soft groan, eye shut as you sit next to him on the edge of the bed, a hundred and one questions running through your mind with nowhere to begin.

“Why?” You manage to whisper, the question soft to even your own ears. Exhaustion and alcohol must have loosened your captain’s tongue, because he actually answers you, voice so forlorn it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I…I couldn’t help it... I felt like such a useless captain.” Hongjoong breathes into the silent room, voice laced with pain and depression and guilt. “Yunho got stabbed because I was too slow. Yeosang and you are wanted because I failed to protect the two of you. Now, we have no cure to save Yunho, but I… I just can’t give either of you up to that bastard. I don’t want to make a choice, so I’m trying to forget, but it just isn’t working.”

Everyone on board of this ship, Yeosang himself included, have reassured you that your captain would never give any of you up, but to hear it for yourself, with your own two ears, means so much more to you. Some sort of relief settles in you, but it doesn’t last long.

Your captain lets out a self deprecating chuckle. “I’m such a selfish man, aren’t I?”

You don’t know what your captain is talking about. What does he mean that he’s selfish? Kim Hongjoong is one of the most kind hearted people you’ve met, willing to go to any extent for his friends and crew, you included. But when you open your mouth to refute, your captain speaks once more, voice slurring ever so slightly over his words.

“Hey, Chin Hae... I’m terrified.”

The pained whimper that breaks forth from him is the final blow to your heart as you feel it shatter into teeny tiny pieces. You have this urge to comfort him, to reassure him in any way that he’ll be alright, but then Hongjoong is sitting up on the bed once more, green eye clouded with desperation as he grabs you tight by the shoulders.

“You can’t die, Chin Hae.” Hongjoong’s voice is shaking with some sort of deep rooted fear as his gaze searches yours. “Please… no, that’s an order. I order you not to die, Chin Hae. I… no… I won’t be able to bear it if any of you die so please…” His voice breaks at the last word and a single tear rolls down your cheek at the sheer anguish in his words. “Please… please don’t die.”

He’s begging you.

“I’ll take all the danger, all the pain, everything. Please, don’t do anything dangerous.” He continues rambling weakly, head bowed before you in supplication as he pleads with you. He’s drunk. Too much so, you think blankly, your heart ripping itself to shreds at his words. “Getting tortured… even dying would be a better fate than losing any of you, so please…”

You’re frozen, unable to move an inch at the sheer wretchedness of his pleas. Your captain, your stupid, foolish and utterly selfless captain, doesn’t care for anything else except the safety of his crew. Your captain, who is always a pillar of support to all of you, perhaps doesn’t realise that he too, needs comfort as well.

Hongjoong is still mumbling ‘please’ brokenly under his breath, tears actually streaming down his cheeks as he begs you to stay alive and safe. You don’t know what to do, one hand coming up to grip the fabric above your chest, right where your heart is.

How? How are you ever going to tell Hongjoong about how your life might just be ending soon?

At this point, you don’t even know how to worry about yourself. Instead, you’re more concerned about what will happen to your captain if you do die, because how can you bring yourself to worry about you when your captain cares for your life more than his own?

The answer is simple, really.

You can’t.

This isn’t like that time from so long ago, when the biggest secrets you’d been keeping from the crew was the fact that you were a woman. Your captain is already tearing himself apart from the inside over all the problems he has to face now, what would happen to him if you told him you were dying and there was likely no way he could fix it?

He’d go insane.

So, as you hold back the tears that are desperately trying to escape your eyes, you pull him close in a hug and he clings to you, as if he’s drowning and you’re a lifeline. You press your nose into his shoulder and pat him, rubbing soothing circles into his back much like San used to do for you.

“I won’t die.” You lie through your teeth, and your heart clenches painfully, seemingly aware of your fibs. But Hongjoong nods desperately, trembling uncontrollably against you, your legs tangled in the blankets.

“You promise?” His voice is so weak, so afraid, that the tears spill over your lashes and onto your cheeks, soaking into his shoulder. You attempt a reassuring smile, but even to you, it’s forced and brittle, like flaking clay that has been left out in the sun too long.

Your reply is nothing but a sweet lie, one that you know you cannot possibly keep.

“I promise.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction