#also - subtle as a brick to the face

[dragonnarrative-writes]

WIP Wednesday

I have so many ideas for this OC, but none are cooperating with me.

Meet Bricks!

Simon notices, immediately, when the American girl enters the bar. First of all, she’s loud. Announces her arrival with a blast of laughter that rings through the room, for all that she’s surrounded by a group of rowdy people. Secondly, she’s dark-skinned, voluptuous, and seems to want everyone to know it. She’s dressed for the clubs more than a side street bar. Two guys she’s arrived with are obviously vying for her attention, but she floats over to one of the active pool tables and immediately starts flirting for the next game. Simon’s not immune to a soft woman with miles of leg, so he can’t blame any of them for welcoming her and her posse.

“Damn,” Kyle mutters, giving her an appreciative once over from his seat.

“What?” Johnny asks, looking over his shoulder like a fucking muppet. “Oh, damn.”

Price arches an eyebrow at Simon. “That good?” When he gets a nod, he turns to look. “…Damn.”

She has to know that everyone at the bar is looking at her, but she doesn’t seem to care. Just talks and laughs, flirts with the men and women around her like breathing. Simon never loses awareness of her. She’s in his sight line. But eventually, he’s integrated her into his awareness of the space. She’s a bright spot, but not rowdy enough to cause issues.

And then she passes their table on the way to the bathroom with her friends. She meets Simon’s eyes, gives him a quick up and down look, then winks with a little smirk as she disappears from view.

“What about you, LT?” Johnny’s voice breaks in.

Simon replays the conversation in his mind for a moment. Recruit performance. Lance Corporal Bennett. “Don’t much care for him. ‘S cocky and mean.”

“Good scores,” Kyle points out.

“He talks shit about the others,” Simon counters. “Good scores don’t mean shit if no one wants to work with him. We’ll see how he does with coordinated drills.”

“Now, Bakshi,” Price says, “he’s got promise. Scores are decent, and I can’t find a single person to say anything bad about him. Except Bennett.”

Johnny snorts. “Except Bennet.”

Simon lets the conversation fade away again. The pool tables are getting a bit rowdy without the American and her girl friends to dilute the testosterone. A couple of the boys over there are from the base, and they keep throwing glances over to the 141s table, and a table of other officers across the room. They’re keeping things cool. For now.

Just as chests are starting to puff enough that even Johnny and Kyle are paying attention, the girls reappear and diffuse the tension. The American says something that knocks the wind out of one boy’s sails and laughs as she takes his pool stick. She buzzes a kiss against his cheek, then playfully shoves another guy to rack. Just like that, the energy settles.

Simon lets himself be coaxed back into the discussion, especially now that the topics have strayed away from work. He can’t turn the hyper-vigilance off, but he likes going to the bar with his team. Likes talking books and TV shows with Price and mocking Johnny’s taste. He likes listening to Kyle talk music. He’s entering an artist’s name into his notes app, which is why he doesn’t notice the American strutting over until she’s right between Johnny and Kyle.

“Hey guys,” she says with a grin, leaning onto the table. “I thought about asking if any of you have a light, but my friends are leaving to get laid and the pool boys are boring. Can I hang out here until they lose interest? I’ll buy you a round.”

Price snorts into his whiskey. “They stop buying you drinks, then?”

“All they want to buy is drinks,” she laments, fluttering her eyelashes and pouting. “I’ve had three, but they’re not getting any more interesting. I’d rather have some fries and sit and chat.”

“Pull up a chair, bonnie lass,” Johnny says, which predictably gets the girl cooing over his accent.

She introduces herself as Ericka, an American student working on her Masters. She talks with her whole body, and doesn’t seem to know how to have a conversation without flirting. She hates the gym. She likes riding horseback, and winks at Simon when she mentions it. She “kind of pegged you guys as military. It’s the muscles.” She prefers whiskey over scotch, and her friends were supposed to take her clubbing tonight.

“But Tracy’s boyfriend hates going dancing, and she’s got a spine of a jellyfish,” she says, rolling her eyes. She’s waving a fry for emphasis. “So of course, we ended up here after I dressed up-up. Trust me, I know this is not a casual night at the pub type dress. I didn’t get the change of plans until the uber dropped us off out front. But I guess it turned out alright. I have no idea what kind of music I’d have been subjected to. Devon has shit taste, so I probably dodged a bullet.”

Even with as much as she’s batting her lashes and sending him interested glances, Ericka doesn’t try to make Simon talk more. With the rest of the table, she’s an excellent conversationalist. As he scans the bar again, he listens to her pick up the music topic with Kyle, drawing Price into a light hearted disagreement. Turns to Johnny with a pout for a tiebreaker. Which somehow gets them all into discussion of the best rock and roll genres. She talks, she listens, she engages. It’s refreshing. Most of the Americans they have to deal with are pushy and self-important officers and mercenaries.

Simon’s not above admitting that it helps that she’s beautiful.

After a couple of hours, it’s nearing 1am. Right on schedule, Kyle yawns. “Sorry, sorry. Not a night owl like some.”

“’S late,” Price admits. “Should probably head out. You have a ride home, Ericka?”

“Yeah, I’ll call a car,” she says, easily. “Thanks for hanging out with me, I’ll have to come back some time.”

“If we’re in town, we’re here,” Johnny says, grinning.

Outside, Erikca’s car gets delayed a couple of times, so Simon sends the boys ahead home and stays to wait with her. Price claps him on the shoulder and Johnny gives him an exaggerated wink. Ericka rolls her eyes and shoos them away when their car arrives.

“So,” she says, when it’s just the two of them. “Was I too subtle before, or are you interested in coming back to my place?”

“Barely spoke to you all night,” Simon points out.

“Come over and you can tell me about your tattoos,” she purrs. Then she smirks. “Or not. Up to you. But I figured I’d shoot my shot.”

[Super sexy sex happens here. Probably.]

Monday morning, Ghost sips a fresh brewed travel mug of tea and listens idly to Soap’s chatter on the way to one of the smaller briefing rooms. He’s looking forward to seeing Laswell, who’s on their side of the pond for a change. It’s always good for him to lay eyes on allies and confirm for himself that they’re alive.

It’s a shock, then, when he and Soap open the door to be greeted by Kate in deep discussion with Ericka.

Soap, of course, is more than happy to say what they’re both thinking. “What the fuck?”

When Ericka looks up and sees them, she grins. “Hey there, boys.”

Price and Gaz, when they arrive, are similarly gobsmacked. Once everyone is settled Lazwell stands.

“From your faces, you’ve all met,” she says. “So I won’t beat around the bush. Say hello to your new infiltration asset. Meet Bricks.”

All of them are speechless as Ericka lays four gray USB sticks on the table. They’re all the ones Price had distributed Thursday, with instructions that the keep one on them at all times. Plus an extra one. If Simon had to guess, Gaz was the one to have a decoy on him.

“Bullshite,” Soap says, pulling an identical USB stick from his pocket. “I’ve had mine on me the whole time.”

“Decoy,” Ericka, Bricks, says. “Slide the port out, you’ll see a pink dot.”

Simon pulls his from his pocket, pushes the little slider. Faded, but present, there’s a pink spot of permanent marker. “Fuck.”

“She’s one of the best infiltration assets we have,” Kate goes on. “She’ll be joining you to get information from Jacó Barboza. We have reason to believe he’s the link between Moscow and Rio, which opens the door to Bogotá.”

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #wip wednesday #manic pixie dream ghost #all 141 of them #watcher one kate laswell #oc: bricks #that lady's stacked #also - subtle as a brick to the face #laurence this one's for you #(posting to remind myself that i don't have to be perfect)

[antiqua-lugar]

look I think that the writing in Baldur's Gate 3 is very good as much as the next guy, but.

it's also as subtle as a brick to the face.

"Oh but how could we ever know if this ending is Good TM or Bad TM for this character" they tell you. they literally tell you. characters look straight in the camera and tell you.

why are we having this discussion when the characters are looking straight at me going Oh Boy Sure I Am Glad That Other Thing Did Not Happen

#this is not about taste I also love some of the bad endings go wild #you bet your ass i am making them all worse at some point i love tragedies #but like if we are just talking Is This A Good Thing To Happen To Them they literally tell you it isn't #and before anyone comes at me talking about unreliable narrators or whatever: this game is as subtle as a brick to the face #and has very understandable themes #because it's the same theme for every character #that's literally the point #this is not ulysses #bg3 #antiqua plays bg3 #this brought to you by: are we seriously having god!gale discourse. like for real. #like don't get me wrong you can argue that larian should have not done that but that is an entirely different discussion #the only characters with ambiguos endings are wyll and karlach and I think it's mostly because of how rushed and good alignment only they a

[lovesickeros]

Darling: you hate me, it's written all over your face

Reader's resting b*tch face: what?

darling says it just to annoy you lbr. bc no matter how bad your resting bitch face is, the tsaritsa's is worse. darling has had years to learn how to discern the tsaritsa's mood when shes as reactive as a statue.

#asks #pale-value #sagau #tsaritsa #darling #in the tsaritsa's defense it isnt intentional shes just Like That. shes only expressive when she wants to be unnerving #bc whats scarier then blank faced tsaritsa staring you down? tsaritsa smiling. start counting bc you have seconds left #its like 99% body language and its all extremely subtle though. its an art form atp #80% of that body language btw is her ears. its why she hides them bc they give it away so EASILY. #reader being as stone faced is a challenge to darling though. like oh worm??? bet #darling thrives off chaos bc its the only entertainment they get when ur literally g-d #especially if you do not give a shit abt them being the creator. it just makes everything Worse #they r keeping you in a container like a lab rat #also unrelated but im fully taking over darling sorry comrade. my oc now /j #ive been having brainrots abt worldbuilding w darling. they arent even an unreleased character like tsaritsa. im going 2 eat a brick #WHAT WORLD AM I BUILDING HERE. MY OWN PERSONAL HELL????????? #yes. i am. thanks for coming 2 my ted talk gn

[rassilon-imprimatur]

Taste is taste, and this might be a little too mean, but something I’ve finally put my finger on regarding how annoyed I get with the acting like The Happiness Patrol is the only blatant anti-Thatcher sentiment in classic Who is, like... 

Why do you think Warriors of the Deep is the way it is? Terminus? With those nightmarish production fall-throughs, the worker strikes, the anger and froth and cynicism that can’t help but lash out at the Doctor a little bit. Resurrection of the Daleks puts the literal societal decay caused by Thatcherism on the forefront. That serial was the 1984 Olympics showcase for fuck’s sake, you think they didn’t know how grim and grisly and nasty it was? The stumble into the mess of season 22, mean-spirited and indulgent as it is, makes perfect sense? 

And it makes me wonder if the widespread sweeping of Saward’s tenure under the rug under “grimdark” (ugh) write-off truly is because someone isn’t jumping up and down with a big neon sign screaming “THIS IS POLITICAL” in text? 

#I'm all over the place with Who and my focuses lately but I'm currently unemployed and with my parents #so when not job hunting I don't have a lot else to do lmao #so you all must face those consequences #I've really come around to The Dark Knight Returns and the like on this front as well #Taste is taste by all means and certainly there's a much longer conversation to be made of political art in capeshit lmao #but there's a REASON pop culture in the 80s could get so gnarly my dudes #There's a reason all these 20 to 30s creators were being edgelords. #By all means don't like Saward Who all you want! Taste is taste! #But don't act like those stories being so violent and mean and angry isn't topical or without reason. #Also I dunno buck up. People could stomach a little more violent fiction. #was Saward an edgelord? Absonoodly! #It's fascinating! #Warriors of the Deep is a MESS of trying to marry misremembered Pertwee nostalgia with Earthshock and I adore it #The Doctor so casually showing Tegan that the Cold War never ends a century on and it's treated just as grimly #as Frontios when he shows her what awaits humanity when the sun finally swallows the Earth #SHIT SUCKS the season #it kills the Dr Who for fucks sake look at Caves #this isn't knocking The Happiness Patrol btw it's just not really one of mine #and I think the fact that it's as subtle as a brick to the groin sours my digestion of people going on and on about the allegory.

[pinkieroy]

That random girl Jax picks up on episode 4 just so Taryn Manning can give the audience a lecture on what is an old lady

#also 'an old lady can make or break a club' then cuts to gemma and tara #subtle as a brick to the face lol #also this is such a guy's show i like guy centered media but god this is For Man (tm) tv #i just don't think it hit this bad first watch #also I don't like to classify media that way but it just feels like it way more than idk Tarantino or Scorsese ever did (to me) #love the show just some thoughts i couldn't have on first watch as i was binging and hyperfixating #text #soa lb

[denileisariver]

pairing: batman aka bruce wayne x f!reader

summary: you move into wayne manor, but not everything is as it seems.

warnings: dark!bruce, established relationships, male and female masturbation, descriptions of male and female genitalia, voyeurism, another age gap fic cuz i love dilf!bruce, reader is described as a vigilante and being dicks friend, some non-consensual touching kinda, no piv unfortunately :(, reader is also described as having hair long enough to pull, one tiny use of the word 'baby', size kink if you squint, some overall darkish batfam? not rlly but I'll tag them as yandere anyway.

a/n: tbh i jus pulled this outta nowhere and have no idea where this might lead but fuck it we ball.

you had no idea what you'd gotten yourself into.

your new life at wayne manor was fast-paced and quite absurd. the transition from living in a cramped dorm with one girl to an ancient mansion with a bunch of other heroes whose lives you could barely keep up with hit you like a ton of bricks, it gave you whiplash.

you'd been friends with dick grayson ever since the two of you were teenagers. he was always someone you could easily bond with. whether it was about school, relationships, or being a vigilante the majority of the short time the both of you had been on this earth, he was always there for you. he was your best friend.

you never really had anyone you would consider family. orphaned at such a young age, you grew up to be cautious of other people, always wary that they would abandon you or find ways to exploit you.

at the beginning of your friendship with dick, you had honestly been quite jealous of the older male. you knew it was a bit selfish, but you couldn't help it. there was always a small part of you that despised him for being taken in by a wealthy man who could support him at his every whim, his newfound family that seemed to only grow bigger and bigger each time you saw him. how despite all the terrible things he had been through, he managed to find happiness, or at least content in his life.

and you wanted that, too.

but you always buried those feelings deep down. it wasn't his fault, and you couldn't blame him for it either, so you pretended it was never there in the first place. instead, you put on a brave face. it wasn't too difficult, and for some short moments, you did truly believe that you were happy, regardless of how out of place you felt sometimes around dick and his brothers and sisters.

brothers and sisters. those words were so foreign to you, that when you looked over the relationships you had with dick and his family, you almost had a sort of epiphany. none of them were blood related at all, but they went through thick and thin together no matter what. and a small part of you hoped, wished, that maybe you could be apart of that too.

maybe it was all just irrational.

dick and you had spent a lot of time together. at school, at the justice league headquarters, fighting side by side at unholy hours of the night, or just casual hangouts. you knew him well enough to catch that subtle look in his eyes whenever he looked at you. pity. it was there whenever he brought up what parties bruce was throwing for one of the kids' birthdays, or how tim and jason got into another petty fight that he had to resolve, damian getting awards at school that the family had to attend.

all experiences and problems that you never had, and probably never would. at least, that's what you thought, up until now.

"why don't you come stay wayne manor?"

at first, the question caught you off guard. sure, you spent countless of sleepovers at the place, and you'd known a decent amount about it to get around by yourself with ease, but still. you never considered the possibility of actually staying there. and by the look on dick's face, he seems to notice that too. "i meant- if you want. i just know how lonely it can be for you sometimes, and it would just be easier for us, y'know with our nighttime activities and-"

your eyes roll at his quick rambling, internally cringing a bit at the prospect of him mentioning you being fucking lonely. you flash him a weak smile, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

"sheesh, dick, thanks." you don't mean to sound so harsh, but it's difficult when all of this is so personal to you.

"i didn't mean it like that. and it's no big deal, really. we have plenty of space, and im sure bruce won't mind. maybe alfred, since he has to pick up after your ass but-" dick continues, shrugging it off like it really didn't mean anything. like he wasn't asking you to pack up your shit and move in with him and his family. "you're always welcome there."

and at that, your heart softens a bit. of course, you knew that, but even when you stayed over for a weekend or two, you never wanted to feel like you were overstaying. "i'll think about it, dick."

and you did. you thought about it quite a lot actually, even before dick had asked you that ludicrous question. and he was right. it would make things easier. you'd have a stable roof over your head, instead of the cracked ones that leaked like your dormatory back in gotham. you'd be able to spend more time with the people you cared about. you'd have people that cared about you too, look after you, and defend you if needed. it couldn't be that bad, right?

that's how you ended up here.

in a room that was bigger than all the shitty squats you lived since you were a kid combined. there was so much space you didn't know what to do with it. but the rowdiness of the boys and girls outside your door brought a smile to your face. life at wayne manor would call for some serious adjustment, but you felt like you could power through it. plus, it was only a bonus that you'd always thought jason was cute, much to dick's disgust.

the first couple of weeks staying here were honestly going great, much to your surprise. the family had welcomed you with open arms, some of them not even batting an eye when you regularly attended dinner with them, or walked around in your pajamas, or were quick to be in the cave once it was time for patrol. like you were supposed to be there all along.

your friendship with dick was more of the same, only now you lived with him. jason and you had gotten closer, but you didn't trust calling whatever feelings you had for him enough to call it a crush. you didn't always understand whatever nerd stuff tim would ramble about, but you listened to him anways. you appreciated how much stephanie and cass involved you into their movie nights and gossiping. well more you and stephanie gossiping than cass, but it still felt like you had the girl best friends you had always craved for. damian took some time to warm up to you, but you could still bond with him over his art and love for animals. alfred loved you already, so there wasn't much there to add. and then there was bruce.

you couldn't quite place your finger on bruce. even when you were younger, his stoicism and broodiness was something you couldn't get past, only in rare moments. there was always something about him that you found off-putting. granted that he was always kind, if that's even the right word for it, he never made you feel unwelcome, but you always felt uneasy around the man.

maybe it was how he seemed to be able to read you like an open book, how he could disappear in a room full of people, how he never quite matched the energy in the room, his incessant staring. god, you hated how much he stared at you. bruce's gaze made you feel small, when you usually were confident and assured of yourself. you could feel his eyes burning into you across the room, and you didn't know how to say anything about it or do much for that matter besides distract yourself.

you thought that by now you'd be able to get over whatever it was about him, that you'd known bruce long enough that you could just play it off as him being strange in his own way, but those feelings had only intensified ever since you moved into the mansion.

chills would run down your spine whenever he'd place a heavy hand on your waist, seemingly as casual touch, but it always lingered too long. held on too tight. this look in his eyes, but you couldn't tell what it was. you had brought it up briefly to dick, but he didn't think much of it, laughing it off, saying something along the lines that's just bruce, you'll get used to it.

but you didn't. you couldn't.

especially now that bruce was inviting you to spar with him. to make sure you're prepared, he said. prepared for what exactly, you're not so sure. but you reluctantly agreed, trying to see it as something useful and educational that you could actually use while fighting against whatever villain of the day thought about creating mayhem in gotham.

bruce was strong and brutish compared to you. every time you tried to throw your best at him, he always managed to get the upper hand, and you'd be flat on the sparring mat in a matter of seconds. it had almost seemed like childsplay to him, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think that maybe deep down a part of him enjoyed it.

he'd roughly grab and contort your body in uncomfortable positions, to test your flexibility, as he so called it. your hair would be pulled unforgivingly, and he'd place his weight on top of you, telling you to try and escape from him, much to your avail. you felt like he was taunting you, "you think those criminals in gotham are gonna be easy on you like i am?"

it didn't fucking feel like he was going easy. bruce would place his hand on your neck and choke you out till you were clawing at his skin, only letting go if you tried to beg or actually managed to use your own skill to get him to stop, but that had only happened once and never again. and when you writhed and struggled in his bruising hold, you'd notice that damn look in his eyes again.

no, this wasn't normal sparring.

you'd seen him spar with the other boys and girls, and it had never been like this. and although he was still ruthless, he'd given them actual advice. advice that you'd seen them use out in the field on multiple occasions.

you'd been wandering around gotham long enough to know when someone had it out for you. whether it was sex, crime, or something else, you knew that distinct look in a persons eyes.

a predator hunting down prey.

☆☆☆☆☆

you tried to wash off whatever the hell that was with bruce down the drain. everytime the eery thought of him having less than good intentions for you came up, you pushed it away. whether it was out of guilt for even thinking of him in that way, cause he saved so many people each night without expecting anything in return, or because he was your best friends father, and no he'd never hurt you. that's just unreasonable.

the whole situation just made your head hurt. maybe it's just an overreaction. dick said that whatever this behavior was is normal of bruce. and so you foolishly continue to believe it.

you search your drawers for a fresh pair of panties, too tired to realize that some of your favorite pairs had gone missing. the room, which you personalized after your couple of weeks here, feels suddenly strange to sleep by yourself in.

when you first moved in, you slept like a baby. you felt safe, like this was a normal thing because you'd slept well in these walls ever since your sleepovers with dick. now, it just felt like something was watching you. a feeling that sometimes left goosebumps on your skin, and you couldn't understand what it was.

there's bruises on your skin from how tightly bruce held onto you. some as big as the shape of his hands on your wrists, and as small as the tips of his fingers on your neck. you're completely oblivious to the camera that's watching you closely, placed strategically so you'd never find it. you're oblivious to the man whose behind them.

even if you had just taken a shower, you decide to get yourself dirty again, in other ways. your favorite thing to relieve stress. playtime. so you trace your fingertips down your body with a feather-light touch, gently tweaking and rolling your fingers between your nipples to get yourself excited. you allow your mind to go blank for a while.

you have no idea that bruce's breathing only gets heavier when he realizes what you're about to do. don't know how his cock is hardening beneath his joggers when you push your panties to the side, gathering up your slick and finding your clit to pleasure yourself. don't know that he's stroking himself too, between the layers of his pants and boxers, with your panties in his hand.

how he wishes there was better light in the darkness of your room, so he could get a better look at your glistening pussy, and swearing to himself that he'll get a good look at it upclose one day. he matches your pace, making sure he only gets to cum at the same time you do.

you seem frustrated. he thinks that maybe he can fix that for you. you lick at your middle and index finger, using your own saliva as lubricant, teasing yourself by slowly rubbing along your wet folds. torturing him. the soft pads of your fingers find your clit, setting a medium-slow pace. and bruce tries his best to mimick your actions. pulling himself out of the constraints of his clothes, teasing the fat mushroom head of his cock, gliding a thumb over the tiny slit where his pre-cum dripped out of him, then moving it down his shaft to gently pump it with his hand.

and when your fingers pick up the pace, so do his hands. his eyes intently watch the screen before him, admiring the way your body arches up off the bed, head pushing into the pillows. your chest heaves a bit, and by the way you're biting on your bottom lip, he can tell you're struggling to be quiet. he doesn't want you be, but he'll take what he can get, for now.

your hips writhe a bit, almost like you wanted to fuck back at your fingers, desperately needing something thicker than your petite hands. you move both hands down to your cunt, so you can play with your clit and finger fuck yourself at the same time, and the action makes your pussy cry at the attention.

bruces muscles flex with each jerk of his hand, his free hand going down to gently cup his balls. his eyes hone in on your tiny digits, moving in and out of your cunt with one sole purpose, your juices creating a filthy sound that's like heaven to bruce's ears. he wants to be there so he could get a taste of that sweet pussy, but he suffices with your panties in his mouth, biting down on the fabric.

he could see the markings he left on your delicate skin in the moonlight that peeks into your room, possessiveness coursing through him. he feels pathetic for even doing this, but he can't help himself. bruce's cock twitches in his hand at the sight, knowing your orgasm was coming quickly by how sloppy and rushed your movements were becoming.

it's been so long since you've touched yourself. too long in fact, that your cunt spasms and gushes, completely soaking your hands and the sheets beneath you in the process. and bruce allows himself to cum too, his cock jumping a bit with every rope of the sticky substance, covering his happy trail and abs.

you seem too tired to care that you're laying in your own pussy juice, darkening the fabric below. bruce's eyes are soft, watching you roll over on your side, not even bothering to clean up afterwards. that was a tomorrow's problem.

bruce makes sure to save the precious evidence that the camera caught, knowing it'll be hidden away for his eyes only. he watches you fall asleep in your own mess till his cock begins to soften, placing himself back into his boxers.

he knows you pretty well, he'd like to think. knows you well enough that if you knew what he'd just done, you'd probably slap him across the face. another part of him hopes it turns you on just as much as it turns him on, but maybe that's just him feeding into his delusion. he trails his eyes over your sleeping form just one more time, a small goodnight baby whispered from his lips, even if you can't hear him.

he shuts off the computer for the night, hoping that he'll soon be lucky enough to watch you touch yourself again tomorrow. or maybe even get to fuck you. soon. really fucking soon.

he'll have to remind himself to be a bit grateful for dick inviting you to stay here, in his home. bruce hadn't been too proud when he suggested it to dick, bringing up that you'd easily accept to their request of moving into wayne manor. and he was right.

if dick or anyone else was suspicious about what bruce was doing, or planned on doing, he wasn't too worried of it. he also knew his adopted children well enough that they wouldn't tell on him, and loved you too much to allow you to leave, and for that, he was also grateful.

he had you right where he wanted you, and he'd give you a really hard time if you even thought about leaving now.

#batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #smut #batman #bruce wayne #batfam #dick grayson #yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne

[savannahsdeath]

↳ ❝ [ ALICE IN BORDERLAND AU ] ¡! ❞

୨⎯ e. williams x reader ⎯ ୧

MDNI! you like your dealer more than you like to admit, so when after your meeting everyone disappears, leaving the streets and buildings empty, she's the one you look for.

warnings: dealer!ellie, mention of weed, next parts will contain death, blood, etc. and will be way more interesting i swear

prologue ⋙ chapter one

you followed the small winding alleyway through the dark, your steps echoing off the brick walls around you. your heart beat quickened, your hands trembling as you neared the corner where the alley opened into a dimly lit street. the shadows moved with every motion, and casted by the nearby buildings gave off a foreboding sense of loneliness, as you felt alone in a world that did not understand you.

you clutched your money tightly in one hand, while the other idly twirled a lock of your hair around your finger. you felt a nervous energy radiating from your body, wanting to run away and yet being compelled to follow through with the decision you had made. you thought you caught a scent of an acrid odor lingering in the air.

your dealer stood in front of you, her face obscured by the shadows as she greeted you. ellie's voice was soft and pleasant, a contrast to the tension you felt building in your chest. despite the darkness and foreboding sense you had felt surrounding the area, you couldn't help but feel a little more at ease in ellie's presence. even though it also served as a reminder of the risks and mistakes which led to that, ellie's gentle nature was a guiding light that helped you navigate through.

ellie handed you a small baggie containing already rolled blunts, its contents wrapped tightly inside as to hide the substance from prying eyes.

"stay safe" she smiled as you gave her your money in exchange. she always said that and you always kept that in mind.

as you began to leave the dark street, you heard the familiar sounds of the city. at first it was nothing more than the subtle drone of engines and tires rolling across asphalt, yet as you moved further away from the meeting spot, the noise grew in intensity and variety. car horns, yelling from people down the street, the faint rumble of public transportation, and the hustle and bustle of the general populace. you could feel the city around you as you took steps away from the area, a sign of progress towards home.

you felt like you had entered an entirely different realm, one with much more life and energy than the atmosphere where you had met ellie.

and you, in fact, entered an entirely different realm.

suddenly, there was no longer the drone of traffic, no honking of horns, no voices or chatter of pedestrians. the silence was so complete and unexpected that for a moment you wondered if you had suddenly gone deaf. but as you realized that you can still hear your footsteps on the ground, your breathing and heartbeat, you knew that it's something more complicated.

once you emerged from the shadows your surroundings were completely different from what you had expected just moments before. the street was normally packed with people commuting to and from work or school, but in this moment, it was empty of all but you. the sudden lack of noise and activity made you feel a strange sense of isolation, as if you didn't matter and the world had decided to desert you. every step you took seemed to echo loudly in the emptiness that surrounded you. it was as if the city had come to a halt, leaving nothing but a blanket of ominous silence to welcome you back. as your footsteps resounded in the silence, you began to feel an overwhelming sense of solitude.

"hellooo?!" you called out, your voice breaking the silence and echoing eerily in the empty streets around you, but with no response. with the city's sounds now absent, the only audible noise came from your own throat, which seemed to only intensify your sense of fear. "oh god..." you mumbled.

your thoughts began to wander back to ellie, and her soothing voice which had offered a sense of comfort amidst the darkness and forebode of the meeting. she was the last person you had seen before the sudden quiet, and as much as you didn't want to admit it, there was a nagging concern in the back of your mind. you wondered if ellie had also been left abandoned by the sudden absence of sound and people, or if she had managed to escape somehow.

you tried to ignore your feet scuffling but it was too much, you could feel the emptiness trying to absorb you too. you began to sprint back toward the dark alleyway in which you had met ellie just minutes ago, hoping for some sign of life. the adrenaline pumping through your veins fueled your pace as you began to notice that every sound you made was magnified in the unnatural silence that surrounded you. you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you ran, yet the only sound other than that was your own breath and the thump of your feet hitting the ground.

as you turned a corner, the shadows that littered the path seemed to grow thicker, creating an illusion of danger. you felt your heart beating even faster as you realized how isolated the area was, and how much more isolated you felt in the midst of it.

"ellie?" you called out, letting her name hang in the air.

as you rounded the corner, you couldn't help but notice a subtle movement within the darkness. the shadows played tricks on your eyes as you peered into their depths, trying to make out any shapes or figures within them. a slight twitch caught your attention, and as you rubbed your eyes, your vision adjusted and you realized a familiar figure was standing there. ellie.

"thank god!" you weakly shouted, coming up to hug her and melt into her embrace.

ellie seemed taken aback by the sudden display of affection, but quickly reciprocated it, wrapping her arms around you and embracing you tightly. as she held you close to her, she noticed something was wrong, and slowly pulled away from the hug to look at you with concern. she could tell something was weighing on your mind, and as she looked at you, you couldn't help but notice the slightest hint of worry in her eyes.

"something's wrong," you began, looking down at the ground. "i— don't understand it. everyone's gone. gone like they disappeared into thin air. it— i don't understand." your words were coming out in a rapid, jittery pace, and your breath was beginning to catch in your throat. you were struggling to grasp the reality of the situation, and as you looked up, you could tell that ellie was struggling to do so as well.

"are you sure?" ellie asked, her voice filling with doubt. "maybe you're just... high?" in the midst of this detachment, it was easy for ellie to wonder if you were simply experiencing some strange sort of hallucination, rather than something truly mysterious happening. but the blunts were untouche— you ran your hand through your pockets and noticed the baggie you got from her was nowhere to be seen. you must drop it while running.

"see for yourself" you mumbled and took a step aside, gesturing the way to the city center.

"alright" she hesitantly agreed and started walking in the intersection's direction, which a few minutes later left her as shocked as you.

✧˖°

taglist: @ellieswife @coff1nn @abbyily @littlegingerperson2 @marianeski @onlinelesbo @mayagrahh @acatstalkingyou @rayslender @imprettyandpink @sillymelodyy @destructive-path @ellieslutybitch @elliemywife @saxiigami @flowexr @dsybouquet @ellieswifee @stickynachomaker @elliesaesp @elliezlils11utt @pank0w @xiaos-wife1

#ellie in borderland #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x y/n #tlou ellie #ellie x you #ellie williams x female reader #the last of us #ellie the last of us 2

[enquiringangel]

Thinking random thoughts about the filmmakers’ decision not to give any of the vampires explicit backstories in The Lost Boys and the show vs. tell element of storytelling:

- They wanted the viewer to be drawn in by the vampires but to ultimately not root for them. A futle endeavour of course, but that was the intent imho. Joel Schumacher went out of his way to add the beach massacre because he thought audiences would like the vampires too much - AND HE WAS CORRECT lol

- They also wanted to keep up the mystery. The way the film is shot during the attack scenes through vampire POV is intended to keep a distance and build suspense. The vampires are meant to be something Other, and knowing too much about them would go against this.

Marko and Paul have barely any dialogue. The only reason people know Dwayne’s name is because of the credits. Joel himself points out that David has the least amount of dialogue of the three main characters (which he considered as Michael, Star and David, despite the meagre size of Star’s role). This is again, done deliberately for the cool guy mystique

- We do get glimpses of backstory and characterisation through costuming, setpieces and (less so) through dialogue. David implying that he was familiar with the hotel before the 1906 earthquake is about as subtle as a brick to the face.

So yes, deliberate storytelling decisions there. I quite like it, it gives a lot of creative freedom. But I do understand the frustration too. As I always say:

This is why we have fanfic.

#no real point to this post just me thinking thinky thoughts #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987

[myosotisa]

Steve needing comfort angst ?

ah yes, the best. someone give this boy a hug!!!!!!

Running Late

ǁ  summary: Steve is late picking you up after work and fears the worst from you when he does show up.

ǁ  tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship. gender neutral, no pronouns, no y/n, nicknames are honey and sweetheart for reader. Steve has anxiety, description of symptoms similar to an anxiety attack, comfort for the man.

ǁ  word count: 2.1k

Your boyfriend Steve had picked you up after work every day since the two of you had started dating 6 months ago.

He insisted it wasn’t a big deal – it was on his way home from his own job and it also meant he got to see you everyday, which he always insisted was the highlight of his day. You didn’t really enjoy walking home, and you did enjoy getting to look at Steve Harrington, so it seemed like a win-win.

You didn’t really think too much into it until tonight.

After your shift ended, you did the same thing you always did: you cleaned up a bit, clocked out, and pushed your way out of the back door and into the night air. When you looked over to where Steve was normally parked, leaning on his hood with his thick arms crossed over his chest, you only saw empty space.

Shrugging it off, you stepped to the side to lean back against the brick wall and wait. He’d never been late before but there was a first time for everything. Who isn’t late sometimes?

You waited an hour.

During that time, you’d stepped inside to try to call his house (no answer) and Family Video (wasn’t there). One of your coworkers had walked past and asked if you needed a ride home, but you were still positive Steve was coming to get you, so you waved him off. He wasn’t the type to just forget. Maybe he’d lost track of time or, god forbid, he got in some sort of accident.

You’d been considering just walking home and trying to call him again later when his maroon BMW comes careening into the parking lot.

It skids until the wheels lock up a safe distance away from the building, and by extension you, and has barely come to a full stop before the driver’s side door is rocketing open and a severely distressed Steve is jumping out.

“Honey! Hey, I’m…” He rounds the car toward you in a jog, voice raspy from being out of breath. “I’m so sorry I’m late, I can’t believe – wait, how late am I?” He flips his watch toward his face, squinting behind his wire rim glasses to try to read the time in the dark before they grow wide and flick back to you. “Oh my god, I didn’t – I’m so sorry – Sweetheart, I swear…”

He isn’t even able to finish a thought before the next one starts as his breathing only seems to start coming through faster, chest rising and falling visibly with the force of his inhales. When he reaches his hands out toward you, there’s a noticeable tremble in them and that, along with the flush of red crawling up his chest, clues you in that something is really not right.

“Steve, hey,” you step into his space, bypassing his outstretched hands and placing one of yours on his jaw and the other on his chest. “It’s okay, it’s really fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” he murmurs, the space between his eyebrows folding into a sharp pinch. The next inhale he takes is choked, getting trapped in the bulk of his chest. “I’m so, so sorry. I… There’s no excuse, really, honest to god, there isn’t, I’m so sorry.”

Growing more concerned by the second, you step closer to try to ground him with your presence. You’ve seen Steve in moments like these before, when his anxiety feels like a python constricting around his chest, but it never gets any easier to watch. Especially not as his eyes start to water at the corners and the tremble of his hands infects the rest of him in a subtle shake.

“Hey, baby,” the petname, one that normally calms him down, produces a sharp inhale this time, like it was the wrong thing to say. “Why don’t you come sit in the backseat with me? Is that okay?” Your tone is slightly placating and you wish it wasn’t, but you’re at a bit of a loss for the best way to navigate this situation. Especially since you have little to no idea of what is causing his panic.

His eyes squeeze shut as the rest of his muscles go stiff, the tears that were collecting in the corners of his eyes falling swiftly down his reddened cheeks. Though it looks like it pains him, he gives a stunted nod and allows you to lead him back over to his car. You open the rear passenger side door and look over at him – he looks so lost and scared like this, 2 things you’re not used to your boyfriend being. But you’re here for it either way and motion for him to go in first, waiting for him to settle in the middle of the back before you slide in after him and shut the door behind you both.

The seal of the door makes the ambient noise of the outside fall away, leaving only the hum of the AC coming from the still running BMW. While you had worried it would feel too cramped for him at first, he had later explained to you that he didn’t find it cramped. It felt contained, which helped his panic when it came.

Twisting in your seat, you face him with a hand on his forearm. He stares straight forward, focusing far off. “I’m gonna sit in your lap, is that okay?” He doesn’t answer, just opens his arms and adjusts his legs to give you room to hop on. With the sedan’s low ceiling, it takes a bit of maneuvering, but you manage to crawl over to straddle his lap: knees by his hips, ass on his thighs, and hands resting on his chest. Almost instinctively, his arms wrap around you and pull you in to press along the entire front of his body.

Tucking your forehead against the side of his neck, you let him adjust as needed until he stills with his arms looped over your back. Like this, you’re effectively a warm, weighted blanket for him. A living, breathing one that grounds him to reality and gives him something to focus on. You make your breathing as obvious as you can, giving him a chance to try to mimic it, and listen to his heart rate slowly begin to lower with your ear pressed to his chest.

While the tension comes and goes in the silence between you for a little while, you know the worst of it has passed when his hands start to move. From stationary, they move into a subtle stroke along your curved spine from your position. Small at first, but gradually growing in length and firmness as he calms down further. You don’t want to push it, don’t want to move too soon, don’t want to cause him more upset, so you allow yourself to melt further into him with the soft touches and wait for him to be ready.

Eventually, Steve heaves a deep breath that comes much easier and fuller than those previous. It’s accompanied by a low hum that you feel more than hear from your place against his chest. His hands skate down to rest on your hips, giving a soft squeeze, before he murmurs, “Hey honey.”

With that, you slowly withdraw from your spot and straighten as much as you can, putting a few inches between your faces. His face is ruddy and his cheeks are damp, like he spent a lot of your hidden time crying, and you offer a sad smile through the stab of pain the sight causes you. “Hi handsome,” you hum back, tension easing when his mouth tilts in a shy smile. “You come here often?”

“Too often,” he replies with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. His hands slide further – from your hips to resting on the tops of your thighs. When he speaks next it’s rough and broken at the edges. “I’m sorry.”

Quick to react, you use your hands to cup both sides of his jaw, forcing him to keep eye contact with you to try to ebb any possibility of a second attack. “No sorries, no more.” You lean in to press a soft kiss to his pouting lips, pulling away just enough to press your forehead to his. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m not mad, I’m not upset. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

His mouth presses into a tight line, jaw muscle rolling with tension as he clenches his teeth together. “I told Lucas I would drive him home after his game at the school tonight,” he explains through a sigh, eyes closed gently. “They went into overtime and he was out in the game, not even on the bench like he normally is, and I was just so excited for him. I completely lost track of time.”

“That’s okay, Steve,” you press your forehead a bit tighter before relaxing again. “That’s great for Lucas and I’m glad you had fun watching. It happens, losing track of time. Everyone does it once in awhile.” He heaves another shaky breath, the exhale ghosting warm over the lower half of your face from the proximity. “Do you want to talk about what just happened?”

You leave it up to him with no judgement. Sometimes he will say no, he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. But you always want to give him the option to talk about it right then when it’s fresh on his mind.

“I, uh… I thought you’d be mad.” He admits quietly, sounding ashamed. “Maybe not even mad but just… Disappointed?” 

Your expression cracks, sadness filling you, but you wait to make sure you don’t end up interrupting. You’d learned your lesson that if you tried to make it too much back and forth, he would get distracted and lose his train of thought.

“I guess I was worried that being late would make you feel like you can’t trust me anymore. That I’m unreliable. And if I’m unreliable, then maybe you won’t want me to give you rides anymore. And if I don’t drive you home from work anymore then…” He pauses, the continuous train of thought reaching its conclusion that he hadn’t anticipated at the beginning. “If I stop being useful, you won’t want me around anymore.”

“Oh, baby…” You can’t help but sigh, heart twisting in pain for the boy in front of you. “I don’t spend time with you because you’re ‘useful’. I’m not dating you because of the things you do for me or something like that. I like you because you’re you, Steve Harrington.” His eyes open when you say his full name, a bit watery behind the now smudged lenses. “You’re kind and loving and brave and genuine. Not to mention, kind of a stud muffin.”

He huffs a small, wet laugh at that, bringing little smiles to both of your faces. The sadness in his eyes begins to shift, steadily growing into awe and adoration the longer he looks at you. “You could never pick me up from work again and I would still be just as stupid crazy for you as I am right now, swear to god.”

“Oh yeah?” He sniffles slightly, clearing his throat as he tries to regain some footing. “How stupid crazy are we talking here? Because I think I might be a little bit deeper,” he teases, hands squeezing the meat of your thighs as his smile slowly grows.

“How about this,” you lean in to press one more quick kiss to his pink lips before you pull back to look at him head on. “How about we agree that I’m crazy for you and you’re stupid for me and we’re even in our prospective fields?”

“Prospective fields?” His head shakes with his shoulders when he chuckles again, the warmth of his smile once again meeting his bright eyes. “You’re kind of a nerd, you know that right?”

“Yup!” You answer happily, “That’s why I’m the crazy one and you’re the stupid one.”

“Oh gee, thanks,” comes his mocking reply, eyes rolling heavily. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, because you’re trouble.”

Fingers trailing down from his jaw to rest on the front of his chest, you aren’t able to bite back your cheeky grin. “I thought you liked that about me.”

With a grin that mirrors your own, his hands make an opposite trail, going from your thighs, brushing over the flesh of your ass before gripping tight on your hips again. “I do. I like everything about you actually.”

Flustered suddenly by the flattery, you hide your sudden shyness by leaning back in and wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a hug. He returns the embrace, leaving the two of you closer to how you had been when you first got in the car.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair, fingers once again brushing up and down your spine. “For everything.”

-

-

-

-

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myos ideas #myo4harrington

[cece693]

My Pretty Boy (Michael Myers x Male Reader)

Just something I wanted to try out cause even a murderer needs pampering from time to time :) This Michael Myers doesn't follow the movie, game, or remake (in terms of tragic backstory); he's my own take on the character. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: M/n was a killer who used his good looks as bait to draw his victims in. Yet, you know who wasn't so keen on the idea? His boyfriend, Michael Myers.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Haddonfield, a young man strode with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his piercing [color] eyes scanning the shadows for his next prey. Unbeknownst to those who crossed his path, he was a predator disguised in the guise of a gentleman, a master manipulator who wielded his charisma like a weapon. No one had yet to discover his dark secret, for who would ever suspect an ideal member of society to be a killer?

Pretty privilege was a thing, and m/n knew how to use it to his full advantage. With chiseled features and an allure that could disarm even the most vigilant, he effortlessly manipulated those around him. And that manipulation didn't stop with unsuspecting people, it also included other killers such as the boogeyman himself, Michael Myers.

Their relationship was a rather interesting one—with both men being dominant, it was a challenge for m/n to ease the other into a more submissive role. But oh, when he did, m/n swears he was in heaven.

Michael was a kitten in wolf's clothing.

Despite the blood on his hands, responsible for the demise of countless souls, they possessed a surprising gentleness that could soothe even the deepest wounds. His muteness, a chilling characteristic to any sane person, transformed into a language of intimacy when wrapped in m/n's embrace.

Just the thought of his boyfriend brought a smile to m/n's face, however, his moment of bliss was rudely interrupted. Stopping mid-stride, m/n turned around to see a drunkard leaning against a brick wall.

"What's a handsome man like yourself doing wandering the streets at this hour?" he slurred, his words tinged with a mixture of bravado and flirtatiousness.

M/n arched an eyebrow, smile transforming into a smirk as he replied, "Just enjoying the night. But I'm not as lonely as you might think." The glint in his [color] eyes hinted at something the drunk man couldn't quite grasp.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm here to keep you company."

As the gap between them narrowed, the stranger's arm snaked around m/n's neck, the gesture a brazen display of invasive familiarity that sent a shiver of disgust down his spine. About to push the man off, m/n sighed in relief when Micheal stepped out of the shadows and did the job for him.

Watching with satisfaction as his lover immediately plunged a knife into the man's chest, not stopping until he was nothing but a puddle of mush on the street, m/n felt himself grow aroused. It always pleased him to see Michael in his element; the blood splattering on his lover's mask and suit, painting it a pretty red, never failed to send a shiver down his spine. And knowing this was all for him; that Michael's actions were fueled by jealousy and possessiveness only increased m/n's desire.

When Michael stepped away from the corpse, breathing labored, m/n wasted no time and rushed at the killer. Pushing his lover onto the brick wall, m/n looked down at Michael with dark eyes.

"Impressive as always," he purred, the raw edge of desire evident in his voice. His fingers traced the contours of Michael's mask, feeling the remnants of the stranger's blood. "Did you enjoy the show, pretty boy?"

As the words hung in the air, a subtle flicker of disapproval crossed Michael's mask—his jaw tightened imperceptibly, and a glint of jealousy flashed in his eyes. M/n, ever perceptive, caught the subtle shift in Michael's demeanor. With a teasing smirk, he leaned in, bringing their bodies closer together. "Oh, don't pout, my love. You know you're the only one I want."

Michael remained silent, his gaze locked onto m/n's, the mask concealing the complexity of emotions that roiled beneath the surface. Another thing people seemed to overlook in Michael was his insecurities: yes, he was a stone-cold killer, but he was also a person who harbored deep-rooted issues. With his sister, father, and the town as a whole disregarding him during childhood (where he took matters into his own hands by killing them), Michael didn't want m/n to abandon him either. Beneath the stoic facade that Michael presented to the world, there lay a well of loneliness and longing.

Touching the bottom of his lover's mask, m/n lifted the rubber to expose Michael's lips before kissing them. The kiss was dominating, with m/n pressing Michael further onto the wall, but within the passion, there was a mutual understanding. That each belonged to one another, and nothing could break that apart.

#michael myers #slashers #slash fanfiction #halloween #the boogeyman #x male reader #male reader #michael myers x male reader #michael myers x reader #halloween 1978 #slasher movies #slasher fandom

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | April 1st-7th 2024

MERRY WEEWOO EPISODE DAY!!! I had a fucking terrible stream so I feel like I missed like 90% of buddie's scenes.

No thoughts, head empty, so happy to FINALLY be done with this long ass recap 😆 my ao3 history is very much still fucked. Oh well. Also gonna have to make a separate post for the podfics cause the rec was getting too long, tumblr couldn't handle it 😂

There's a couple of new people in here and maybe some people who have changed URLs, so if you know someone who's not tagged, please tag them in the comments!

Love your tags, comments, reblogs, everything! <3 My ao3 inbox is being SUBMERGED with fics, it's the best problem to have 😂

Complete

I can finally breathe by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (S7E4 Coda, BuckTommy | <1K | General); Buck's oh moment when Tommy kisses him.

and with each one, i'm a little more free series by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Post-S7E4, Coming Out):

oh, bi the way (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Maddie. whenever you're ready (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby. welcome to the club (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Hen.

rebirth by renecdote/ @renecdote (S7E4 Coda | <1K | General): “Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

whenever you're ready by honestlydarkprincess (Post S7E4 Spec, Coming Out | <1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby.

I won't tell no lie by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (Post S7E4 Spec, Tommy POV | 1K | Teen): Tommy can't exactly say he's surprised when he opens his door on a Sunday morning to see Hen Wilson standing there. He just wishes he'd thought to put on a cup first because he has a feeling he's about to get kicked in the nuts.

An End Has a Start by eirabach/ @eirabach (S7E4 Coda, Tommy POV, Tommy&Lucy | 1K | Teen): Tommy is one minute late. Hell of a minute, though.

tell me that i'm all you want (even when i break your heart) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (S7E4 Coda | 1K | General): “What’s going on?” “You tell me,” Eddie says, gently. “Buck mentioned you were being a little…odd.” To his surprise, Chris scowls. “I bet he did,” Chris mumbles, scoffing, half-under his breath. Eddie stares at him, taken aback. “Chris? What does that—” “I want you to tell him to leave.” or; buck, christopher and eddie in the aftermath of 7x04.

Sleepy Call by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie, Fluff | 1K | General): OR: Eddie takes an early morning call.

to loosen his grip by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (S7E4 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. Speculation for 7x04: Buck, Bothered and Bewildered.

babbling brook to nowhere by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (S7E5 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie has not stopped talking since they left the restaurant. He thinks that he kind of blacked out during the actual dinner, because he’s not really sure what actually was discussed or how they even ended up sitting next to Buck and Tommy. But as soon as they got back into the truck, it was like the dam breaking loose. “I mean, it’s so great,” Eddie says once they’re back in his bedroom, as he takes his shirt off in the closet. He’s not even paying attention as Marisol perches on the edge of his bed. “They’re two of my friends, it’s awesome.” He’s happy for Buck, because Buck deserves to be with someone who gets him and will love him like he deserves. He just . . . “Is Tommy too tall for him?” Eddie asks. “Like, they’re the same height.”

my heart is working overtime by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (S7E4 Coda | 1K | Teen): He reaches for his phone again, then freezes halfway through his contacts when he realises he can’t call anyone to talk through this. Maddie would kill him for telling her something like this over the phone. For—coming out, he supposes, trying the words on for size. That’s something he does now. As— He hadn’t really stopped to consider it until now. Bisexual, he thinks, experimental, and it settles somewhere deep inside of him, like there’s been a space waiting for it all along.

“Pops, I’m bisexual.” “Hi bisexual, I’m Pops.” by Maximoff_Wanda (Post-S7E4, Coming Out | 1,4K | Not Rated): Or: Buck comes out to Bobby.

every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it by wafflesofdoom/ @capseycartwright (Post S7E4 | 1,6K | Not Rated): after his kiss with Tommy, Buck goes to Hen.

pythagoras made some points by crimsonclad (S7E4, BuckTommy | 1,6K | Not Rated): Look for the helpers! Sometimes they are all trying very hard to help each other be gay in the correct configurations and doing their best, mostly. Tommy takes Eddie to Urgent Care, takes him home, and carries a message elsewhere in the city of Los Angeles.

Buck's Boyfriends by Tizniz (Buck/Tommy/Eddie | 1,7K | Teen): He’s too drunk to figure out the logistics right now. “I think I’ve been dating both of you.” OR: The one where Buck realizes he's dating Tommy and Eddie.

smile at me like you smile at him by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec, Getting Together | 1,8K | Teen): Buck hadn’t planned on doing anything to show his displeasure at the sudden friendship between Eddie and Tommy, despite the fact that it sent hot, furious jealousy coursing through his veins. Really, he hadn’t. It’s just…well, he was just going for the ball during their basketball game…unfortunately Eddie happened to get pushed out of the way in order for Buck to get said ball.

only need the light when it's burning low by fallingthorns (Post-S7E4 | 2K | Teen): Buck blinks and realizes that he could love Tommy, if he didn't already love Eddie.

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by ummrys (S7E4 Spec | 2K | Teen): Or, Buck gets a little (a lot) jealous of Eddie's blossoming friendship with Tommy Kinard, and makes some bad decisions about it.

detours by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (Post-S7E4, 2K | Teen): “Take a detour,” he says, instead. “There’s construction on Sunset.” “Maybe one of these days there won’t be,” Buck says, smiles, and takes his leave. - Eddie and Buck have a talk. They somehow say everything and nothing at all.

Every Night I Come to You by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (S5, Love Confessions | 2K | General): Eddie has another sleepless night, but Buck is there. He'll always be there.

Family Feud: First Responders by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Secret Relationship | 3K | General): The FireFam go on Family Feud.

Right In Front of Me by Princessfbi (S7E5 Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | General): Tommy’s brows knitted together as his mouth turned down with worry. “Evan,” he said and Buck wanted to hear him call his name so many more times. “What happened? Did someone choke you?” “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Buck said, clearing his throat again when his voice gave an embarrassing squeak.

inescapable (i’m not even gonna try) by buddiebuddie/ @buddie-buddie (BuckTommy, PWP, Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): From that first press of Tommy’s lips against his— the moment when the pieces slid into place and something bloomed in Buck’s chest and hummed in his veins— he felt good, and grounded, and settled in a way he never had before. It’s been a few weeks, and the newness has worn off but the excitement hasn’t. The hunger hasn’t.

I would be lying if I said I'm not dying to worship you by Daughter_of_Scotland (Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Tommy have their first date. This is how it ends. (It ends really, REALLY well)

somethin' tells me you know why i lie by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Madney Wedding Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | Teen): OR: buck brings tommy to the madney wedding. eddie is absolutely, definitively not jealous.

Never Saw It Coming...Or Did He? by Tizniz (PWP, Daddy/Mommy Kink | 3K | Explicit): Unable to deny his boyfriend anything, Eddie does. And his jaw promptly falls to the floor. Because Buck is standing there with that goddamn basketball under his shirt again. The clothing is stretched tightly over the round of what Eddie’s mind pretends is Buck’s belly. Pregnant belly. OR: The one where Eddie is 'Daddy' and Buck is 'Mommy'

sunbeam that hits at three to noon by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Madney Wedding, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): or, having multiple wedding reservations under the same name was an accident waiting to happen and buck’s just trying not to jumpscare his best friend with the rather intense bridal suite decor in their very platonically shared hotel room

as lucky as us by hammersmiths/ @bucktommys (S7E4, Ravi POV | 3K | General): One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier.

soothe the ache in me by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec | 3K | Teen): Or, the one where Buck gets a headache while trying to take care of Eddie and Chris after Eddie's injury.

i'm a fine baby mama (but you knew that though) by colonoscopys (S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Look—Buck’s not jealous, per say. He’s just a little confused as to how you can spend the past five years being best friends with someone, and then find someone new to replace him in the span of a couple of playdates.

You’re too Sweet For Me by Garden_Haunter (Buck Coming Out, Post S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Tommy kisses Buck, and it tastes like freedom. (Or: Buck comes out to different members of his family.)

Nightcap by Inell (S7E5 Spec, PWP | 4K | Explicit): After their first date goes a bit astray, Buck invites Tommy to his loft for a nightcap. 

some things fall when they're meant to fall by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (S7E5 Spec | 4K | Teen): or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

before you painted all my nights by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): In hindsight, maybe jerking off to a LAFD Calendar when Eddie was well on his way to become a firefighter himself… might not have been the best idea. He never really thought about the possibility of actually crossing paths with the person that's been starring every wildest dream and filthy fantasy of his.

’til storm breaks loose by markofalover/ @markofalover (S7E4 Spec | 6K | Explicit): He squeezes Buck’s bare, sun warmed skin before he drops the contact, and strolls over to where Chim and Tommy are waiting. If he stands a little too close to his teammate, well. He’ll never admit it. Buck comes back into his line of vision, already back to looking like he’s a second away from stomping off the court. Eddie’s giddy with it. …or, how an elbow to the face changes everything.

the art of making love. by dylaesthetics (Rommates, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): OR Buck’s loft gets flooded, making him temporarily move in with Eddie, who’s out and about dating guys now, apparently, and Buck tries to figure out why the hell the thought makes him sick.

no more mistakes, no more empty starts. by dylaesthetics (S7E5 Spec, Feelings Realization | 7K | Teen): Throughout his life, Buck has felt that something’s been missing. Some integral part of who he is, outside firefighting, outside the family he has built for himself, outside the trauma that keeps on piling up and overburdening his shelves. He doesn’t expect to find it in the dimness of his loft’s kitchen one Tuesday evening, the taste of a man still on his lips and his cologne lingering in the air, sweet and honest and real.

ain't no lie (bi bi bi) by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (S7E4 Spec, Eddie/Tommy | 8K | Explicit): Eddie fools around with Tommy, Buck is jealous, Tommy's just trying to have a good time

skin/heat/hair in your mouth by fleetinghearts (Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): or, eddie’s bad at camping, buck’s trying to make sure he doesn’t get hypothermia, and naked huddling for warmth is only like the third gayest thing happening in the great outdoors

now our love lives in the radio by heartbeatdiaz / @loserdiaz (University AU | 9K | Explicit): buck is the host of a college radio show and eddie has a big fat crush on him, what else can i say? featuring cinderella references and a bunch of himbos from buck's football team. 

teach me how to dance with you by goodboybuck (prettyboybuckley)/ @prettyboybuckley (BuckTommy, PWP | 9K | Explicit): OR: Buck explores the wonders of gay sex (slowly, with a really patient, sweet Tommy guiding the way and while having a lot of fun)

the mouth is the thing that craves by Underhung_Aura (Established Buddie, PWP | 11K | Explicit): eddie loves buck and he really love buck's cock

when i think about you (i touch myself) by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (PWP, Getting Together | 12K | Explicit): Or: the one where Eddie stumbles across Buck's old amateur porn, prompting a series of belated realizations on both their parts.

honey, when you call my name by HungryHungryHippo/ @hippolotamus (Post S5E11 | 12K |Explicit): Eddie witnesses the Buck/Lucy kiss, has himself a little panic, and decides to do something about it when Buck does his Buck thing and won't stop pushing Eddie's buttons 

🔥 of men and of angels by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 13K | Teen): Eddie Diaz learns a lot as a kid. Boys aren’t soft. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t kiss boys. As he gets older, he realizes that everything has exceptions. Boys can be soft sometimes. Boys can cry sometimes. And some boys kiss other boys. But Eddie likes kissing girls. And since he likes kissing girls, that’s the end of the story. Isn’t it?

🔥 what humans do by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Getting Together, PWP | 18K | Explicit): "…and the thought that she had just escaped death by such a narrow margin made me realize the intensity of my feelings toward her.” Eddie swallows. “‘What’s the matter?’ I couldn’t tell her, so I kissed her instead,” Buck goes on, and since Eddie’s eyes are focused on the page, they drift ahead a little bit, and the next few lines have him swallowing once again, taking his hand back to brace himself against the mattress as he slowly starts to push himself up to sit. “Kissing is what humans do when words have reached a place they can’t escape from. It is a switch to another language. The kiss was an act of defiance, maybe of war. You can’t touch us, is what the kiss said. ‘I love you,’ I told her, and as I smelled her skin, I knew I had never wanted anyone or anything more than I wanted her…” Buck trails off when Eddie reaches for the book, gently luring it out of his grasp. 

WIP

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 6/18 | 37K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

Both Bermuda and Golden (Lost but Doing Just Fine) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Threesome, BuckTommyEddie | 4/6 | 20K | Explicit): In which everyone has two hands and two holes and is keeping their options fluid. (Or: a collection of threesome fics.)

Fifteen First Kisses by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (Getting Together | 2/15 | 3K | Mature): Why would you have only one first kiss when you could have fifteen This is a collection of 15 different first kisses between Buck and Eddie.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #bucktommy

[forgeofthenine]

Is it the holiday season, or are you just a genius cause my yearning heart is being well fed by your tiefling headcanons. I hope this ask inspires :)

I’d go feral for some good pining headcanons; what are they like in the gray space between flirting and relationship? Especially if there’s mutual understanding that this might not be the best time (i.e. there may or may not be a mindflayer invasion in progress) and so they hold off on initiating anything, but have to watch as their crush dives headlong into danger? I love imagining ill-timed interruptions punctuated by longing looks.

Alternatively, how good are our darling tiefling bachelors at dancing? Would they learn a jig or two if their SO loved dancing?

Here's a lil' something something for you about pining, Anon. I didn't decide to write a full set of dance headcanons (despite it being on my to do list right from when I started the blog) but I am going to post something similar 👀

What the bachelors are like while pining for you

Dammon

This man pines so hard

He's touch starved to hell, quite literally, but has no clue about it

Dammon was sure he was fine right up until he met you and was hit with the realisation that he wanted more

The way he shows his affection is also anything but subtle, expect to know right away

It's never the type of affection that makes you feel guilty if you don't return it or makes you feel like you feel pressured

He's very easy going and good at reading people, he slowly increases how much affection he gives you until you both find a comfortable balance

Soon you'll find all your weapons and armour is repaired or replaced to the highest quality

Dammon is overjoyed if you return the same affection, even if you both know dating is off the cards for now

Bring this man some home cooking and he'll want to marry you right then and there

It's a grey area you both find yourself in for quite some time, to the point you both often get asked if you're together

The way he blushes when people ask is absolutely adorable, even more so when he hesitates to correct them

Towards the end you both basically already live together, both slowly easing into a romantic relationship without realising it

Dammon is more than happy once the ilithids are dealt with to make things official, finally not needing to correct people anymore

Zevlor

This man is the king of pining, absolute reigning champion

He knew he was in deep right from the moment he first saw you

It's something he keeps under wraps very well, to the point that you probably won't realise for a while

He tends to sneak peaks at you when you aren't looking, or he comes up with mostly reasonable excuses to come and speak with you

If you call him out on either thing then he'll heavily deny doing any of it, despite the blush on his face giving him away

Even if there wasn't an ilithid invasion happening Zevlor would still be cautiously optimistic about ever having a relationship with you

He's wary of a potential age gap or coming across too strong and scaring you away

A part of him also reminds him that you'd likely want a suitor your own age

The best way to quell those worries is to simply return his advances with some of your own

It could be anything, so long as he thinks you're interested he'll keep up his very subtle flirting

Soon, the two of you are already regularly having meals with each other and finding ways to spend hours together

Zevlor is absolutely already thinking of the life he'll have with you after this

Rolan

Rolan is a dick at first, he honestly is so out of touch with his own feelings that he doesn't realise he's into you

He's completely oblivious to anything that isn't directly spelled out for him, including how much he actually enjoys your company

It takes Cal and Lia teasing him relentlessly before he finally comes to terms with it

Once he does it hits him like a brick to the face

And after that, it's like a switch flips

He can barely speak to you now without second-guessing himself or tripping over words

It's enough to make you wonder what's going on until the siblings start teasing you both, much to Rolans embarrassment

He's always quick to shoo them away and apologise but his feelings are already clear

You're both smart people, it's easy to know now isn't the time to start a romantic relationship, but it's harder to listen to reason when your feelings get involved

After weeks of you both tiptoeing around each other, feelings clearly returned, he finally has enough

Rolans the fastest to take action on his pining, impatient and hating the uncertainty

You'll find yourself in Ramaziths Tower and kissing the tiefling that runs it in no time

Rolan is quick to pull you into him, kissing you passionately before making you promise you'll stay safe

#bri answers #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader

[jjunieworld]

18. in the clouds ⸝ ˚⋆

↳ half written, half texts. word count: 1.4k

— SOOBIN’S POV —

soobin’s hands shook as he clutched his phone. he was sitting in the library of the parking lot reading his messages with taehyun over and over again. how did he know? how could he be so careless?

get a grip, soobin tried telling himself. it didn’t work.

he loved his friends deeply, he did. he didn’t know where he would be without them. but he also knew that if they found that he was actually in love with y/n, all hell would break loose. soobin already had to bite his tongue when they even mentioned her. it made his skin crawl the way they talked about her.

soobin wasn’t embarrassed by y/n, not in the slightest. if he could shout from the rooftops how much he loved her he would without hesitation. if he could spread it all throughout the internet for everyone to see, he wouldn’t think twice. in fact, he has already been trying.

a part of him was relieved that taehyun knew. it was one less person he didn’t have to pretend with.

soobin took a deep breath before making his way towards the door of the library. when he entered, he scanned the room for taehyun and found him tucked in the corner of the library. soobin sat in the seat across from him and said nothing. taehyun was busy writing something down in his notebook. he had multiple textbooks open and scattered across the table.

after a moment, taehyun looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. soobin furrowed his eyebrows. “so you still aren’t gonna admit it?” taehyun asked.

“like you said,” soobin replied, “it was obvious.” he sank down in his seat a little. he felt like his dominos were falling down one by one.

“so tell me about how it happened.”

soobin hesitated to answer. he really wanted to keep as many details about y/n to himself.

taehyun must’ve sensed his hesitation because he then added, “i’m not gonna tell the others. what you do in your love life isn’t my concern.”

soobin couldn’t help his glare. he bit on his tongue and looked away. underneath the table, he gripped the end of the jacket he was wearing. taehyun raised his eyebrows.

“that wasn’t a dig at her. i actually think she’s really nice.” taehyun spoke. “real pretty too, actually.”

soobin’s eyes snapped back to taehyun’s. if looks could kill, he was sure taehyun would be dead by now. taehyun laughed at him.

“so i’ve essentially been lying about her this whole time,” soobin finally said. taehyun nodded, motioning for him to continue. “she’s really amazing, and that date was the best date i’ve ever had.”

soobin went on and on until he realized he was talking too much. he looked up to see taehyun staring at him with a smile on his face, his head resting in his hands. his cheeks heated up and he was sure he was blushing now.

“i just really love her,” soobin concluded. he started playing with the zipper of his jacket.

“have you told her all this yet?” taehyun asked. soobin shook his head.

“i was gonna tell her on her birthday, but that may be too cheesy.” he had it all planned out too before sakura ruined his plans, once again. soobin sighed to himself. he’ll have to make the party work.

how does he even bring up the fact that he loves y/n? he couldn’t just bring it up in normal conversation. but it also couldn’t be some big display of affection in front of the whole party. soobin wanted it to be private, intimate, just between the two of them. he wasn’t worried about her not saying it back. she’s already been dropping subtle hints that she loves him too.

soobin’s cheeks heated even more as he thought about it. she loves him. she actually loves him. soobin had to keep himself from smiling at the fact.

“and what about the bet?” taehyun asked. soobin was suddenly and harshly brought back to reality. it felt like he got slammed into a brick wall. “and what about it?”

“you can’t keep it a secret forever,” taehyun said. “she’s gonna find out sooner or later. especially if she keeps hanging out around our friends. even if they do warm up to her, someone is gonna let it slip.”

soobin stared taehyun down. what was he insinuating? was he saying that if soobin didn’t tell y/n about that damn bet that he will? or that he’d make sure someone else would? soobin’s heart raced at the thought.

“what are you saying?” soobin demanded. taehyun raised his hands a little and sat back in his chair.

“i’m not saying that i’m gonna tell y/n. i’m saying that you’re in the clouds right now and sooner or later you’re gonna get hit and fall.”

soobin left the library as fast as he could like the devil himself was on his heels. he couldn’t think straight. his heart was racing and his hands shook so bad he had to clench them into fists.

he didn’t even realize he was at your door until after he started knocking.

you barely got to open the door before he pushed it open and his lips were on yours. soobin kissed you like you were the oxygen he desperately needed. like you were the hunger he was trying to satiate.

“what happened?” you barely got out before his lips were on you again. he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. but it wasn’t close enough.

“soobin…” you said, and pushed him away a little. you were both breathing heavily. soobin put his forehead to yours.

“i’m sorry,” he breathed. “i really missed you.” he just then realized how tightly he was holding on to you. soobin exhaled and loosened his hold on you.

soobin gave you another kiss before he pulled back completely. you were in pajamas and it was clear you had just woken up from a nap. your shirt rode up from the exchange.

y/n pulled soobin into her dorm and made him sit down on her bed. he saw the remnants of the uno game he left in the middle of. he wonder who won. he made a mental note to check your twitter later.

she stood in front of him, her arms crossed, as she waited for an answer to her previous question. he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer until she was standing between his legs. soobin looked up at her.

“i told you, i really really missed you.” y/n raised an eyebrow, but he could see her softening as her arms were already making their way around his neck. “mhm,” she mumbled as she leaned down. she brought her lips to soobin’s cheek and he felt the area heat up after they left.

soobin turned his head so the next kiss would be on his lips instead. you giggled at the sudden change before deepening the kiss. it took everything in him to not pull you closer and into his lap.

he was so close to it, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping your hips, until the door to your dorm room swung open. jake and hueningkai walked in with snacks in hand, took a good look at the position the two of you were in, and stood in shock for a moment with wide eyes.

“oh my god!” hueningkai finally said as he snatched jake’s arm and slammed the door shut.

soobin looked back at his girlfriend and saw the embarrassed expression on her face. he was too focused on you to even think about what just happened with your friends. he was sure once it processed his face would be bright red.

he squeezed your hips slightly so you would look back at him. you gave him a sheepish smile and buried your face in his neck. soobin started placing feather-light kisses on the side of your neck.

“don’t be embarrassed,” he smiled against your neck as he tried not to laugh.

“it’s not funny!” you exclaimed, burying your face deeper.

masterlist.

summary: choi soobin has always been the popular kid surrounded by his popular friends. y/n… not so much. one night, soobin and his friends make bet that soobin can’t get y/n to date him in a month. unfortunately for y/n, they’re a hopeless romantic.

A/N: tell y/n to get in line

taglist: @imagineyour-kpopboy @gothgyuu @carengene @spooksh0wbabe (if your name is bold it wouldn’t let me tag you!)

— kipo <3

#📼 — ALL FOR A BET ⸝ ˚⋆ #txt #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt x reader #txt social media au #txt smau #tomorrow x together #txt beomgyu #txt huening kai #txt soobin #txt yeonjun #txt taehyun #choi soobin smau #choi soobin x reader #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n #soobin #kpop smau #kpop social media au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop #le sserafim yunjin #le sserafim sakura #enhypen jake sim #enhypen sunghoon #tomorrow x together social media au #tomorrow x together imagines #kpop x reader

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 1 (Strangers In The Night)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,222

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: can't believe this is the product of covid-induced hcs and thots between me and @mrs-lockley, thank you so much for encouraging this buddy (also @lunar-ghoulie if i had a nickel for each time you've sent an ask/dm about a WIP and it ended up being where i put all my energy, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's hilarious that it's happened twice).

----------

On nights like tonight, Jake Lockley regrets his choice of profession.

It’s a dreary November evening, darkening by the second as the New York streets grow damp and cold. The wise had decided not to venture out; the blindsided rush across slick pavement to whatever shelter they can find. The desperate stay on the clock and curse their luck.

He should know by now that when a client says they’ll be “just a minute,” it’s a boldfaced lie: even if they have every intention of being efficient, he’s been stranded on the curb more times than he can count.

So he keeps the meter running. He’s seen the duds his regular client has on each week; the man could afford to fork over a few extra bucks. Might even build character.

The steady rhythm of the rain had been fine at first, but after half an hour parked beneath the neon sign of The Paper Moon– hat, coat and gloves doing nothing to ward off the chill creeping into his cab– every raindrop taunts him in his isolation.

To hell with this.

He shuts off the engine, pops his collar, and braces himself before stepping out onto the street. The rain falls fast and hard, so he rushes toward the brick exterior of The Paper Moon. He’s never been inside, but the glowing crescent of the sign had piqued his interest the first time he’d dropped his client here. He may as well see what all the fuss is about.

The doorman– a tall, dapperly dressed unit with a neutral grimace– casts a wary look his way. Jake ducks into the alley beside the building. Guess it’s exclusive.

Through the rain he spots a side door with a meagerly covered stoop, upon which is hunched a smaller, yet equally well-dressed figure. The young man’s tawny complexion pops against the emerald green of his just-too-big blazer, mist gathering in the dark brown waves slicked back from his creased brow. He grips a cigarette between clenched teeth, stuttering curses around it as he strikes a flimsy matchbook to no avail.

“¿Necesitas un fuego?”

At his offer, Jake is met by startled, impossibly wide brown eyes. The shock turns to glee as his face breaks into a toothy smile.

“Sí– sí sería genial, señor.” He makes room on the stoop, his dimpled cheeks betraying his youth. Jake pulls out a lighter and deftly lights the end of his cigarette, earning another dimpled grin after a few christening puffs. “Muchísimas gracias.” 

“No hay problema.” 

He lights one of his own, the smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as he holds out his free hand. “Jake.”

“Mauricio.” His newfound companion grips his hand and shakes vigorously. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, their subtle exhalations and the slowing rain the only sounds between them.

The mood is disrupted by shouting from the other side of the door, followed by clattering and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. The door behind them flies open and a lanky, dark skinned man in a matching green blazer pokes his head outside.

“You’d better get your tail in here, Maurie. She’s in one of her moods tonight.” 

“Rats, alright,” he groans, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out with his heel. Mauricio straightens his blazer and pushes a hand through his hair. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jake. 

“Do you wanna come inside, dry off for a spell? We put on a mean show,” he swears. The kid's face isn't one Jake imagines people say “no” to very often.

“...Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Great! There’s a couple of tables toward the back that should still be free, you can sneak in there no problem.” Mauricio holds the door open a bit wider for Jake to step through. “If anyone gives you any trouble, just tell ‘em you’re with me.” With a wink and another winning smile, he darts off to follow the other blazer.

Jake finds his spot easily enough, taking in the atmosphere as he weaves between tables and patrons. So this is The Paper Moon.

The building’s drab exterior is deceptive: inside is a small lounge, bustling with activity and humming with life. Richly draped walls envelop the space, with ornate lamps and soft candlelight radiating from every table. The room looks as warm as it feels, a welcome relief from Jake’s prior solitude. 

He takes off his soaked coat and loosens his tie. Across the room Jake sees his client– a cold, calculating Mr. Wesley– who gives a curt nod, as if granting his permission to take a load off (for now).

He orders a drink from a slightly bewildered waiter and continues to survey the space. People of all shapes and sizes occupy tables and barstools, with the chatter of at least three languages creating a dizzying buzz around him. The crowd dies down when stage lights flash on at the far end of the room.

Out marches the band: the guy who'd clambered to the back door sits at the piano, cracking his knuckles before playing a few notes on the keys; an older man with a similar complexion props an upright bass in position, riffing along with the scattered piano melody; an impressively mustachioed fellow polishes the mouthpiece of his trumpet; Mauricio settles in behind a set of drums, waving a stick in the air when he spots Jake.

As warm as he's gotten after coming inside, the temperature seems to skyrocket as the click of heels and the shimmer of the last band member crossing the stage sends his heartbeat right into his throat. In walks– no, floats – a vision, evening gown the same color as the richly painted lips that curl into a smile as easily as breathing. Something Jake seems to have forgotten how to do.

He can’t take his eyes off you.

----------

There’s something in the air tonight.

Maybe it’s the smoke lingering on Mauricio’s jacket (you’ve told him time and time again how smoking before a show irritates you; he must have snuck a pack backstage), or maybe the weather has you out of sorts. Whatever it is, you’re one false step away from losing your cool. Which, of course, cannot happen. Not onstage.

As the band warms up, you take one last look in your compact mirror, blot your lipstick, and take a deep breath. It’s showtime.

The moment you step onstage, you turn on the charm. Nothing can touch you up here. Not when there’s music to play, a band to lead. A night to make unforgettable.

You approach the microphone and smile. “Hello again, darlings. Did you miss us while we were away?”

Applause and cheers echo back to you from the audience. There’s a distinct two-toned whistle that rises above the noise, but you don’t think anything of it.

Not until you scan the crowd and see something– someone – that doesn’t belong.

Lounging at the previously unoccupied back table is a man you’ve never seen before. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t know the face and name of everyone who enters your club.

His eyes stay trained on you as you nod to the band to begin. One outlier a bad night will not make– you’ll deal with him later. For now, you let the caress of the opening notes ease the new tension in your body, and you start to sing.

With six shows a week, one would think the routine would become tedious. Quite the opposite: any night you play the same standards with the band is bound to be a good night. The chemistry between you and your boys is perfect– even on an off night like tonight, you still manage to follow each other and make the same hour of music sound brand new.

You lead one song, then another, completely in your own world. Of course, the constant cheers and occasional audience participation don’t hurt. But just when you hit your stride and forget your troubles, that whistle rings out above the noise.

The stranger's on the edge of his seat, rapt attention never leaving the stage. Seems innocent enough, but you’re still on high alert.

The set comes to a close, ending with a vibrant flourish. The band improvises a steady beat as you take a sip of water, then smile once more into the microphone.

“Oh, stop. Really…. well, alright, you can keep going,” you croon at the crowd as they cheer louder. 

You gesture to the band. “Let’s give a big round of applause to The Jays, what do you say?”

“On piano we have the dazzling Jackie Thomas,” you call out as he trills a fancy melody a little louder than the rest. “Followed by this absolute Adonis on the bass, Benny Hayes,” you add as the smooth licks of his instrument sound out a reply.

“Let’s hear it for Leo Castellón and his magnificent mustache on the trumpet,” you tease as he blasts out a tune. “And our baby bird on drums, Mauricio Farrés!” You raise your voice as the youth bangs out a closing rhythm. 

“And as always, I’m Ms. Songbird. We hope you’ll join us again soon, my doves. Goodnight!”

The band plays themselves out as you descend downstage to the front of the room. Time for the next act.

You know how to work a crowd both on and offstage; hospitality is as much a part of the gig as the music. Tonight’s a full house, but you take your time gliding past each table, front to back. Does everyone have their preferred drink? How’s the food? Was the music to their liking? All questions you ask with genuine interest, but you know the answer: everything is perfect.

"Hey, little songbird," a voice calls above the noise.

Everything except him.

You've been avoiding the back table for a while, trying to collect your thoughts before confronting him. No time like the present, I suppose.  

You turn to see the outlier standing by the table he’d commandeered, a shimmering bundle of rhinestones dangling from his hand. The glint of a grin catches the low light the same way your traitorous earring does.

You touch your ear and your face grows hot. “Where did you–”

“Fell off as you floated by the last few tables, angel.” 

Your heels tap out a warning as you approach. Toe-to-toe, with the added height of your shoes, you practically tower over him. Your brow furrows as you size him up: too forward to have something to hide, too laissez-faire to be up to any obvious trouble. All the same, you don't trust him.

You look him up and down; he does the same. "You're not very tall, are you?" More of a challenge than a question as you reach for the rhinestones in his hand.

Leaning back against the table, jewelry dangling just out of reach, his sly smile grows. "Well, miss, I tried to be."

"Right." You snatch the earring back before he says anything else. "I see you also tried to be discreet, and that didn't go so well for you, did it Chuck?"

"Actually, it's–"

“–club policy to check your coat at the door. Something our hostess would have insisted upon, meaning you– ” you emphasize as you lean in, fingertips pressed to the tabletop by his side, "–slipped in under the wire." You search his face for anything to betray his intentions. "Now how did you manage that?”

The stranger lowers himself into his seat, hands raised in surrender. "A little backstage access, courtesy of your drummer there." He nods toward the stage: you catch a glimpse of Mauricio clumsily ducking back behind the curtain. You'll scold him later.

His gaze shifts across the room. “See that fella over there– the one who looks like it'd kill him to smile? I’m just waiting to drive him home, like I do every week.” He grins again, that same look in his eyes. A look that sets you on edge. “Just a humble cab driver, miss– nothing up my sleeves.” 

“Didn't know cabbies could be so exclusive,” you say, still eyeing him. James Wesley has been a regular for a few weeks, but you've never met his driver.

“With what he tips? Doll, I'd do damn near anything he asked.” The stranger chuckles, sipping his drink.

You know what he means: the wait staff has noted a major uptick in gratuities since Mr. Wesley has started frequenting the lounge. 

“Very well,” you offer stiffly. It all checks out, but you get the feeling there's something he's not telling you. “I hope everything is to your liking.” 

You turn to leave, but he takes your hand before you can go far.

“Oh believe me, it is… Ms. Songbird. ” A wink and a smile play on his lips as he swiftly presses them to your knuckles, letting go just as fast. You storm away before giving the satisfaction of showing how flustered you are. 

“Mr. Manalo,” you beckon a waiter as he passes. He stands at attention. You gesture to the table you’d just left, not bothering to look and see if his eyes are still on you.

“Watch out for this one, will you? I get the feeling he isn’t just here for the music.”

----------

A/N: !!!! every story i write becomes my new favorite, but Noir!Jake has carved a pretty special spot in my heart this autumn. so excited to share more of him with y'all!

as always, thank you for reading :)

addtl tag list: @fandxmslxt69 @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

#my works #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight au #jake lockley #jake lockley fanfiction #noir!jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x woc!reader #jake lockley x poc!reader #jake lockley/reader #jake lockley/fem!reader #jake lockley/woc! reader #jake lockley/poc!reader

[cobragardens]

Red & Yellow Can Hurt a Fellow:

Color Symbolism in 1941 (Part 1)

(Plus Bonus Sundry 1941 Observations)

"Nazi Zombie Flesheaters" is such an interesting title, isn't it? You don't need to say flesheaters if you've already got zombie: it's redundant. It's like the title was chosen by someone unfamiliar with very basic zombie tropes. Also fwiw "Nazi zombie" is an anachronism: zombies did not exist in the popular consciousness before George Romero's Night of the Living Dead in 1968. I feel like maybe an angel titled this minisode. There is evidence both that the Metatron fucks with the story and that the flashbacks are Aziraphale's memories, so my guess is it's one of them.

***

In "The Colors of Crowley" I make an effort to evidence that crimson red is both the the color that symbolizes Crowley to Crowley and also the color that symbolizes passionate romantic love.

In light of that, here is this tiny beautiful moment:

As they did to each other in 1793, Crowley is sending a message here to Aziraphale with his clothes, so let us dwell on it.

Crowley's tie has Aziraphale's colors on it--white and blue-- in a design that connects two points (through a larger, dark point between them), one above and one below.

And Crowley opens his jacket with a flourish and shows Aziraphale the tie.

So first we we get this beautiful gesture of opening a covering and exposing a hidden, brighter, truer self beneath it, along with the metaphorical implications of exposing the heart and the guts, the snake showing its vulnerable red belly. Then the tie says, I like you. I'm wearing your colors. I want to be connected to you. And Crowley doesn't just display that message by opening his jacket, he then calls attention to it by straightening the tie.

Aziraphale gives no outward sign he has received this message. But.

There is so much red in this bookshop tonight.

The bookshop structure is brown and tan, with bright yellow in the back rooms (just as Aziraphale always has fear in the back rooms of his mind). But in this flashback there's a red carpet on the steps in front of the door, a red carpet on the floor in front of that, a display of red books on the circular tiered stand, a pile of red books in the corner, more red books on the windowsill behind Crowley's head, and the red velvet chair that Crowley's sitting on.

Here's the other side of that room, i.e., what Crowley is facing:

The walls of the bookshop are, again, brown and tan, but there's a red rug, red brocade on the front panel of the cashier's table, two red-upholstered chairs, and a red-stained chest of drawers Aziraphale is mostly blocking, plus another red thing in the right corner behind the stepladder that I can't even identify but that looks like the same velvet as the chairs. That's a determined effort to cram in as much red into a brown space as possible without actually taking a paintbrush to anything.

There are other metas showing how Aziraphale takes pains to make the bookshop into a welcoming place for Crowley [link if I find them again]. Just as likely imo his love of red and gold in soft furnishings is to remind himself of Crowley because they don't get to see each other very often.

But the books Aziraphale would be constantly rearranging, and buying more of, and possibly even occasionally selling when it can't be avoided; and bibliophiles do not generally organize their books by color. I therefore suggest two things are happening simultaneously here: on the Doylean (authorial) level, the set dressers are using the red notes in these backgrounds to symbolize the passionate romantic love Aziraphale has just realized he feels for Crowley; on the Watsonian (intra-story narrator) level, Aziraphale's feelings are "coloring" his memories.

This red as symbolic of Aziraphale's feelings for Crowley is not subtle. It starts immediately after his epiphany about those feelings--I mean literal sparks fly--

--and it does. not. let. up.

Note the other colors in the (brick red) dressing room besides red: blue, white, and off-white, Aziraphale's colors. There are even white and off-white feathers, indicating these are the angel's feelings we're being shown.

Brief digression. I've listened to this line several times now and for the life of me can't hear the final -s. I suspect Crowley may in fact say "Chalk up a win for the side of the angel," i.e., Aziraphale, which definitely makes Aziraphale's reaction of giddy delight track well, but I don't have a decent pair of headphones, so if someone would be willing to verify whether I've caught a Moment or just have romance on the brain, I'd be very grateful. [Update: I've got one confirmation so far that Crowley says "angels."]

Anyway. Note the splashes of blue and off-white surrounding Crowley, indicating all this red (he's sitting on a red velvet chaise btw) continues to be linked to Aziraphale's feelings for him. This whole narrative is drenched in Aziraphale's passionate romantic love.

Until this moment:

Now something really interesting happens. For the first time in the scene (I went back and checked), a bright spot of canary yellow suddenly becomes visible in the frame.

It's a jar of ostrich feathers, dyed bright yellow, on one of the dressing tables. How do we know it's meant to represent fear?

Because it already has done.

And remember how yellow is specifically fear of the head offices?

Look who shows up.

Now suddenly the camera shoots Aziraphale from a different angle, and yellow appears in the frame here, too--more fear.

The yellow feathers remain visible between Aziraphale and Furfur for the remainder of the scene.

So that's one gif and 18 stills I've shown you thus far in this essay about how the use of red in and yellow in this minisode is consistent with the use of red and yellow throughout Show Omens and is being used in a symbolically meaningful way, right? I mean they come down pretty hard on it.

So it's very interesting, in terms of colors, how the minisode ends.

Which I will talk about in Part 2!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 1941 #good omens meta #good omens color symbolism 1941 #furfur #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

[niningtori]

see me | chapter three: just out of reach

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after another failed relationship, you're ready to accept your fate as hopeless. choi beomgyu has other plans, though. or, beomgyu's your best friend's little brother and he's tired of you treating him like a kid.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending, best friend's brother au

word count: 2.2k

notes: it's my favorite person's birthday, so of course i have to post. i love beomgyu so much, y'all. also, i really do plan on making a masterlist soon i SWEAR. i just haven't yet :,). see end of work for more notes :)

beomgyu tries every trick in the book, but nothing seems to help. he tries lessening the gap between you physically to see if it translates to emotionally, but you just brush off every encounter like he's some fucking kid tugging on the back of a grownup's shirt.

he puts on the clothes that he knows suit him best, the ones that drive all the girls crazy, but the most you ever do is compliment him with "i like your shirt, beomie!" and ruffle his silky hair just like you always have.

he even tries lowering his already baritone voice and whispering seductively from behind you, but all you do is ask him if there's something in his throat and giggle as his breath tickles your ear. it feels like he's putting on an entire monkey show for a brick wall, that's about how unresponsive you are to his advances. he almost wonders how you even got into your past relationships in the first place because you seem so oblivious it hurts.

"quick, what else can i do to get her to fall for me?" he texts his friends in a crisis. the trip is over tomorrow and he's made no material progress. he looks to them for the millionth time this week and by now they're all thinking the same thing: it's hopeless. still, the more pitying ones, kai and soobin, tiptoe around that thought while yeonjun and taehyun tell him in no uncertain terms that this entire endeavor is fruitless. it stings, if he's being honest, but in a way, he kind of knows they're right. he's becoming increasingly less subtle, but you seem to be unmoved by every action.

-

"why don't we go to a bar tonight?" yijun suggests in honor of your last night of vacation.

"i'm in," jia replies with a smile.

you heartily agree and decide to dress yourself up a little more than usual. your self confidence has taken yet another blow from yet another unfaithful partner, so the act of putting on makeup and a pretty outfit does wonders for your confidence, but beomgyu is more anxious than ever when he spots you in the outfit you've chosen for the bar. you're always pretty to him, as cliché and insincere as that may sound, but he knows you'll be turning even more heads than usual tonight. he imagines a man piquing your interest right in front of him and it makes his stomach churn. no way in hell is he gonna let that happen —

— is what he says, at least. but some random stranger piquing your interest is the least of his worries now that you're actually at the bar. never in his wildest dreams did he foresee what is actually happening before him right now, which is you being pulled away with a dazed look on your face by none other than doyoon himself.

"what the fuck is he doing here?" and it sounds so much like his own inner monologue he almost thinks it was he himself who said it, but he turns and sees jia with her signature scowl and knows it was actually her.

"that's what i wanna know," beomgyu mumbles.

"who is that?" yijun asks cluelessly.

"that's doyoon," jia answers with venom laced in her tone.

"oh shit, the doyoon?"

"the one and only," jia sneers. "fuck it, i'm going to get her!"

"baby, no," yijun reasons incredibly patiently. "you've gotta let her make decisions for herself. let her do what she needs to do."

"what she needs to do is get her ass back here."

"don't you trust her?" he asks with a frown.

"when it comes to doyoon? nope. not at all." beomgyu flinches at this. he'd been there and heard firsthand just how desperate you were to keep a connection with doyoon after your breakup. there were countless times when he overheard jia scolding you for texting him even after he essentially ripped your heart out, set it ablaze, and stomped on the ashes.

"you shouldn't have to beg somebody to love you, you know?" he remembers jia reasoning.

"i know that, it's just — i just really love him. i don't know who i am without him," you said between tears.

"that's exactly why you don't need him," jia replied softly.

he stopped listening after that. his heart broke with yours for the first — and certainly not the last — time.

beomgyu can't take it. honestly? you haven't even been gone for very long, but when he thinks of the fact that you're out talking to doyoon of all people, he can't help but take a large gulp of whatever liquor he can get his hands on. he's very obviously staring at you talking to doyoon, but you seem without a care in the world if the smile on your face is any indication as to how you're feeling. he can feel the fiery alcohol bubbling up in his stomach as it churns at the possibilities of what could be happening between you two. are you letting him back into your life? does that sentiment even apply when his mark seems to have never really left in the first place? he doesn't know. if he thinks about it carefully, maybe he never wants to know.

-

"how are you?" doyoon asks with the charming smile you used to love so much.

"i..." you hesitate to answer. if you're being honest, you're not doing too hot at the moment and haven't been in a very long time. doyoon seems to take your hesitation as an answer in and of itself.

"yeah, i'm not doing so well, either," he says with a ghost of a smile.

"really?" you ask, head whipping up towards him before you can reel yourself back in. doyoon was always doing well, and even when he wasn't, nobody would be able to tell.

"really."

"why not?" you can't help but ask.

"if i told you my career is at a dead end, would you laugh and tell me i deserve it?"

"... i don't know."

"thank you for not knowing instead of just saying you would," he laughs. "you know, you're a lot kinder than i ever deserved for you to be." you're taken aback by this. you can't believe he's referencing your past relationship in a positive way. after your one-sided breakup, you tried to keep in contact with him in every way possible until he straight up told you you were being pathetic. his words, not your own. what you're even more surprised at, however, is how much you don't care. your heart doesn't seem to clench at the mere sight of his face, let alone at his emotionally provocative words.

"you know, i have no right to say this, but i'm going to, anyway. i'm sorry for what i did to you. really, i am. and if you ever want to get a drink with me sometime, i'd really like to make it up to you."

"i can't believe you have the nerve to say that to me," you counter without missing a beat, shocking even yourself. it only takes you about a millisecond to realize how much you mean it, though. doyoon is floored, to say the very least, but he regains his composure smoothly, just like he always does.

"i figured, but i still thought i'd ask. i know you have someone now, too. i guess it's shameless of me to ask." you stare at him quizzically. could he be talking about donghyun? he can't be. there's no way he'd know about him.

"what do you mean?"

"oh wow, i'm surprised he hasn't told you yet."

"wait, what? who?" you're a little tipsy, so his circuitous way of talking is making your head spin.

"well, if you don't know, i'm sure you will soon," he smirks as he locks eyes with beomgyu, who is currently glaring daggers at him from across the bar.

"i'll let you go," he sighs. "it was nice talking to you, even if you secretly want me to fuck off and never speak to me again." you actually crack a smile at this.

"you know what? it was nice talking to you, too."

you needed this. you needed some tangible closure and you finally have it. as you walk back to your party, you feel lighter than you have in a long, long time. you're finally prepared to fully let go.

-

the night sky is alight with white stars and the salty air is cool against your bare legs. the sound of waves billowing back and forth lull you into a trance, but your reverie is broken by the sound of someone stumbling behind you.

"beomie?"

"hi," he greets a little too loudly while plopping down beside you unceremoniously. you can't help but giggle at how drunk he is. what a cute kid, you think.

"what are you doing out here so late? you should be sleeping it off by now," you tease, nudging his shoulders with yours. you almost notice him lean into your touch, but you don't quite catch it.

"just wanna think," he says.

"about what?"

"a lot of things," he shrugs. you hum in understanding.

"you know, we never got to finish our conversation the other day. what's been bugging you lately?"

he pauses for a moment.

"i'm kinda hung up on someone, honestly," he admits with a lopsided smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and you're genuinely stunned. he's never been particularly open about any girls he's been involved with, though there have been many based on what jia says. you'd be lying if you said you're not curious to know what kind of girl has the power to make the seemingly impenetrable beomgyu anxious, but you're mainly worried about how he's feeling.

"oh no, what happened?" you ask, sincerely concerned.

"nothing happened," he deadpans. "nothing ever happens. that's the problem." your brows knit in confusion.

"so you haven't made a move on her? why?" you can't fathom why beomgyu of all people would feel like this. he's never seemed to have an issue with getting whoever and whatever he wanted.

"i've tried, but i don't think she's interested in me in that way," he hints as nonchalantly as he can manage in his decidedly not-so-sober state. truthfully, he's not doing the best job at being discreet, either. but you don't notice a thing.

"i don't think that's true. i'm sure if you opened up to her she'd like you. you just have to be vulnerable and who knows? maybe she's interested but just doesn't know how to say it. she probably thinks you don't like her, honestly." his hazy eyes light up with hope. do you know you're the girl in question? are you both talking around the same point?

"you really think so?" he asks, heart racing. even through his drunkenness, he's putting the pieces together, albeit incorrectly.

"of course i do! i mean, you're a catch," you giggle and his heart flutters. "just be yourself and i'm sure you'll get somewhere with her. you can be so hard to read sometimes. maybe she just needs a little push?" the next second, your breath hitches as you feel warm lips latching onto yours. beomgyu is gripping your face with an intensity you've never known before. his lips are nice and warm, if a little chapped, while his eyes are scrunched shut with his long, dark eyelashes trembling in the moonlight. you gasp when he trails his hand down to the small of your back and he takes the opportunity to enter your mouth with his alcohol-laden tongue wrapping around yours. it's easy to melt into the feeling of pure heat with someone, especially when you're tipsy, so you do. you feel yourself melting further into his touch, but when he moans into the kiss, you finally register exactly who that someone is and push him off in a hurry.

"what the hell are you doing?!" you exclaim. you're panting now, face flushed and lips swollen, all thanks to him. he's absolutely fascinated by that fact. hypnotized, even.

"what do you mean?" he asks while blinking his big, watery eyes. he looks so innocent you almost can't believe he's the one who was snaking his tongue down your throat mere moments ago. oh. his tongue was down your throat mere moments ago. the thought itself has you sputtering out questions before your mind can quite catch up.

"w-what do you mean what do i mean? why'd you k-kiss me?"

"'cause i wanted to. 'cause i love you."

the world around you implodes and alarms blare in your ear. what the hell? you've only ever seen beomgyu as a good friend and maybe even a brother, but this? this was simply unprecedented. you would've never in a million years guessed that he harbored even a fraction of a non-platonic feeling for you. he must be drunk out of his fucking mind.

"i just love you so much," he slurs with his lisp in full effect. it's almost as if he can hear your thoughts and is intent on dispelling them.

you hesitate to reply and have the sorriest look on your face, so even in his current state he immediately understands that he misread the signs.

"beomie," you begin slowly and he winces. "i don't—"

"hey, i know. you don't have to tell me. i know," he says simply. "i was the one who misunderstood. you can forget this ever happened." he rises from your side and starts to walk away.

"beomie, wait!" you exclaim.

and, of course, he waits. you've always been able to gently twist his heartstrings in between your fingertips.

"yes?"

"i'm just.. i just don't want to lose you. you mean so much to me."

"you won't." and you never will. that's the problem.

you're at a loss for words, but he just smiles as if he already understands everything you can't seem to verbalize and it breaks your heart. why does it feel like he's the one babying you? with that, he turns away and resumes walking back to the house. you don't stop him this time. you don't have the guts to.

notes pt. 2: r u mad at me? i know i said this will probably be the final chapter, but there's so much more to say. i'm thinking there will probably be one or two more before i finally feel like the story has run its course. also, my pacing is so shit but i'm working on it <3 bear with me please! also, feedback is always appreciated! i'm a words of affirmation kind of gal.

#niningtori #see me #txt angst #txt fic #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu fic #txt #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu headcanons