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rebelrebelwrites · 11 months

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Fic Friday! ❤️ Rebel’s Weekly Fic Recs

~ Haladriel Week Edition (Part 2) ~

A day late, but it's a long weekend and I needed a relaxation night last night so here we are. I'm still working my way through all of the @haladrielweek goodness, so you'll definitely see more HW fics in the weekly recs, though I think this post will be the last HW-specific recs post.

That's it! Let's get rolling. As always, this week's recs are...

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

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The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: Civil Twilight by eye_of_a_cat

What you need to know going in:

Written for HW's Day 5, "Family," this fic is yet another canonverse masterpiece from Cat, seeing Galadriel reuniting with Celeborn after S1—and a desperate, angst-filled, steamy reunion with Sauron first. 👀 When Gal finds Celeborn again, he’s changed so much since they last saw each other… and, of course, so has she—most notably, being with Sauron’s child. What’s remarkable about this story is the characterization of Gal, Sauron AND Celeborn; I can honestly say that despite being ten thousand percent IN on Sauron and Gal (and trust me, this fic delivers everything about them in spades), I cheered so hard for Celeborn in this. The dynamic between him and Gal was just as spectacular as the undeniable spark between Gal and Sauron. Instant classic, indeed.

Complete, Mature

Read the story.

Follow the author on Twitter and AO3.

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The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: Widowmaker by @mzladybird

What you need to know going in:

Still shaking myself after reading this fic. 🔥 This AU sees a young Galadriel in a very rural Maine in the 1870s, helping her family run a general store. It’s there that she first meets (and catches the eye of) Halbrand, a rough, quiet logger. After their first meeting, he returns annually… and the mounting, roiling tension between the two of them is absolutely exquisite; it builds like the clawing cold of winter in your chest, that first bite of bitter chill that burns. In this case, in an excellent way. I don’t want to say too much more, so just trust me and read it! 👌

Explicit, Complete

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: now dark, now glittering by @mortaltempless

What you need to know going in:

It’s no secret that I’m a fan of @mortaltempless’ work; I’ve highlighted their work many times here, but this HW fic really hit me; it soothes. In it, Sauron struggles to understand Galadriel as she struggles with waxing and waning depression throughout the Ages they spend ruling together—but tries, genuinely, to help her. This fic works like a balm to the soul for it’s simple beauty and stalwart love in the face of sadness; of longing. It feels very Tolkien in that way, and for it’s emphasis on the healing power of nature. 😍 Be ready to bookmark, because this is one you’ll want to regularly return to for the sheer romance.

Complete, Teen

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): one thing i can’t get enough of ~and~ on begged and borrowed time by @bad-surprise

What you need to know going in:

Am I cheating by mentioning two of @bad-surprise's WIPs? No, because these are my recs and I do what I want. 😆 Keeping it 💯, I honestly couldn’t choose; they’re just both that good! The first, one thing i can’t get enough of, is the Dirty Dancing AU, featuring a mean-ish Halbrand in the role of Johnny and, of course, Gal as Baby. Do I need to say much more aside from these two and the words dirty dancing? 🔥��🔥 Better than the movie and it’s not even complete. ☺️ Fic 2, on begged and borrowed time, is another massively compelling AU; in this, we see Galadriel as a gifted tarot reader with a desperate desire to bring her husband, Celeborn, back from the dead… desperate enough to strike a bargain with the Necromancer and her former lover, Halbrand. 👀 Like I said—impossible to pick between these two, because they’re both terrific as hell, and they’re just getting started.

Both WIP, Both Explicit

Read the stories — here and here.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The Can't Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: once, i belonged to you (but twice i was free) by @nocaptainonthisship

What you need to know going in:

The dove is very dead in this fic, so fair warning, but it was absolutely one I could not stop consuming (and yes, it’s complete). A dark, delightfully twisted take on a fairytale, Galadriel is a princess locked in a tower with only a brush of memories from a former life, and three regular visitors, each of which have their own… appetites: Halbrand, her captor; Sauron, her besotted beast; and Mairon, her supposed savior. 🥺 Grim and gripping and utterly bewitching, this story is nothing short of striking in its intensity.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don’t see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don’t fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your pershaladronal faves. I have plenty more to recommend… ❤️

Until next week!

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h-f-k · 7 months

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hi nins. you already know that i am one hundred and ten thousand percent in love with you but i thought it might be nice to drop an ask here on love letters only night. you truly inspire me so much to not only be a better content creator, but you inspire me to live my life to it's fullest and push myself to be the best i can be. and i hope you know just how much i truly adore and appreciate you. i wouldn't trade you for the world. sending love always <3

HELLO!!?!??? I’m so sorry for replying this late! 😫 i turned myself into a 70 year old grandpa and i went to bed at 11pm and I couldn’t see your message. I am… i am speechless? I truly appreciate the fact that we’ve known each other for SO long, it’s like we both witnessed hair cuts, stages in life and so much from one another. This message truly melted my heart 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i love you so so much 💛💛

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rengadyke · 2 years

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Posting more of my phantom of the opera au because I feel like it

I’m picking and choosing which parts of each of the adaptations I want to use, so we’ve got “prologue is an auction taking place many years later” from the musical and “some guy wants to write a book about it” from the original novel

Content warning for mentions of the Battle of Okinawa--for anyone who doesn’t know, it was bloody and brutal and a lot of civilians died

If anything is unclear or doesn’t make sense, please let me know! It would be nice to get some feedback before posting this on AO3

Enjoy!

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Naha, Okinawa - 1945

The old, run-down building that once housed the Paradise Theater has not been special in decades. Now it is one of the ten percent of buildings left standing on the island of Okinawa.

Just a few months earlier, it sheltered two old men and their neighbors during the battle. The old men had once worked at the theater, and decades later their hobbling legs still remembered the way through the labyrinth under the stage. There they waited, terrified and hungry, but safe from the Americans’ bombs and the Japanese army’s demands to die honorably rather than surrender. When a nice young man explained that they were not going to be tortured and killed by American soldiers, the old men and their neighbors emerged from their shelter, amazed to find that the building was still standing.

The Americans quickly took over the theater after the fighting was done, using it as a hospital—or perhaps a brothel. Or both. Now they are holding an auction to distribute the treasures found in its vaults. The attendees are mostly American servicemen. Some foreigners are dressed in civilian clothes—collectors or reporters, perhaps.

No one pays any attention to the two old men sitting far behind the crowd. Surely none of them know that they were once the managers of the Paradise Theater.

“Can you believe it’s been 50 years, Kaoru?” the larger of them says in a very old-sounding voice.

“I still don’t know why you insisted on coming here,” the other grumbles. He has the air of someone who’s been an old man his entire life. His long hair and formal kimono would have been out of fashion even in his youth.

“You don’t feel sentimental about any of this?”

Kaoru grunts. “Why should I? It’s rotten luck that this place was spared while the temples were reduced to rubble. I suppose you’re feeling sentimental, Kojiro?”

Kojiro doesn’t respond, as a mask being taken from a box and shown to the audience catches his eye. “Kaoru, look!”

“Look at what?”

“Isn’t that the mask Miya wore? When he thought he’d been turned into a demon?”

“That one got broken, remember? We had to cut it up to get it off of his face.”

“It’s got a crack! Look! I swear it’s the same one.”

Kaoru adjusts his glasses and squints. “It seems your eyesight’s gone the same way as your hair.”

“Hey now, I’d be able to see as well as you if I wore your stupid glasses!”

“It’s better that you can’t see, really. If you could see yourself in the mirror, you’d probably break it...wrinkled cabbage.”

“You’re just as old as I am, puckered goya!”

“Sold!” calls the auctioneer. Neither Kaoru nor Kojiro knows much English, but they can mostly follow what’s happening. They watch as the mask that may or may not have been Miya’s is sold off to a young blonde man in a U.S. Army uniform.

“What do you think he’s going to do with it?” Kojiro asks.

“Hang it in his house, most likely. Maybe give it to a museum someday.”

“Why couldn’t we have put it in a museum?”

“There are a thousand masks just like it all over the country.”

Kojiro sighs. Maybe there are a thousand hannya masks in Japan. This probably wasn’t even Miya’s mask. Never again will it be part of a show. Now it can have a new life. As…a decoration.

Another item goes on display: an onnagata’s wig. Kojiro doesn’t bother asking if it might have been Miya’s, or Langa’s or even Kaoru’s from his days on the stage. It doesn’t really matter anymore. No one is left to miss the Paradise Theater, with the exception of two rather old men, sitting on a makeshift bench of rubble and watching their memories being sold off piece by piece.

“Do you think there will be anything of his?” Kaoru asks.

Kojiro could snap back with something about his poor eyesight, but he decides not to. Not with something like this.

“If there is, would you like to bid on it?” Kojiro offers.

“We don’t have any money.”

“We’ll borrow some money.”

“From whom?”

“One of those nice American gents!”

“And what would we pay them back with?”

Kojiro thinks. “How about a story? ‘Have you heard the tale of kabuki no kami? A ghost story certain to chill you to the bone—’”

“It’s not a ghost story,” Kaoru says softly.

“What kind of story is it, then?” Kojiro asks.

Kaoru’s gaze is trained in front of him, perhaps watching the drama play out again in his mind. “I think it’s a tragedy.”

Kojiro hums. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Not for everyone, at least. Not for us.” He gives his companion a wrinkled smile.

Kaoru nods stoically and stares ahead. The wig that might have been Miya’s, or Langa’s, or Kaoru’s is sold to a man in a suit.

They sit in silence until the last of the Paradise Theater’s treasures have been sold off. Then they pull themselves to their feet and set out for the long walk home.

To the surprise of both men, the young American who bought the broken hannya mask approaches them, a grating eagerness in his bright blue eyes. Another man who looks to be Japanese follows him. “Excuse me, sirs—”

“Sorry, no English,” Kaoru says, turning away. His statement might be more accurately interpreted to mean, “Sorry, I have no interest in conversing with English speakers” than, “Sorry, I have no knowledge of English”—though both are true.

The American says something in English to the Japanese man, who turns to the old men and bows. “Our apologies," says the Japanese man. “Only, my friend thought he heard you mention kabuki no kami.”

“How typically American of him to listen in on our conversation,” Kaoru says to his friend in Okinawan.

Kojiro ignores him. “How do you know about kabuki no kami?” he asks in Japanese.

The American speaks excitedly to his companion, glancing at the old men every so often, before gesturing for him to translate. “He was studying anthropology before the war,” the translator explains. “While he was stationed out here, he heard all sorts of local legends, including kabuki no kami.”

Kaoru and Kojiro exchange looks.

The American continues talking and gesturing excitedly, and the Japanese man translates. “He knows all about the fire, and the half-French onnagata who was kidnapped, and the mysterious deaths of—”

“Those tragedies all happened, yes,” Kaoru snaps. “But nothing about them should be of any interest to foreigners. You should leave the past in the past where it belongs.”

The translator hesitates, glancing uncertainly at the American. “Pardon my rudeness, but he says if you really believed that…you wouldn’t be here.”

“This little brat…” Kaoru mutters in Okinawan.

“If you want to learn about the history of the theater, I’m sure there are records you can find,” Kojiro suggests.

Again, the translator hesitates. “Many of those were destroyed during the war.”

“My condolences for your loss,” Kaoru says coldly.

The American doesn’t seem to pick up on his tone, nor does the man bother translating. The American continues: “That’s why I wanted to find someone who was there and talk to them. To save these stories before they’re lost.”

“This island has plenty of legends that are in danger of being lost,” Kojiro says. “Why are you so interested in this one?”

“Because it’s fascinating! Don’t you agree?” The translator makes a halfhearted attempt at conveying the American’s glee.

“That’s not the word I would use,” Kojiro says sadly.

“And the mystery!” the translator continues, ignoring the old man as he struggles to keep up with the American’s frenzied speech. “We don’t know where the kami really came from or who he was, or what happened to the onnagata—”

Kaoru clenches his fists. “Langa. His name was Langa.”

The American says something eagerly. Apparently he understands some Japanese.

Kojiro cuts off the Japanese man before he can translate. “My apologies, it’s not something we want to talk about,” He turns away, shielding his friend with his body as he often has before.

This time the American speaks in broken Japanese. “But sirs, don’t you think the world should know—”

Kaoru turns around, pushing past Kojiro. “The world needs to know how to mind its own business!” he snaps. “If you aren’t going to leave our island, at least leave the two of us in peace. Do you understand? Leave us alone,” he says in English.

“Let’s go home, Kaoru,” Kojiro says in Okinawan. Kaoru already feels a little more fragile in his arms. At their age, strong emotions drain them more than they used to.

They leave the disappointed American and his companion behind and begin their long walk home. Neither of them mentions kabuki no kami or the Paradise Theater for the rest of the day.

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*synth organ plays*

phantom au masterpost

#sk8 fanfic #phantom of the opera au #kabuki no kami #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry #nanjo kojiro #sakurayashiki kaoru #matchablossom #if you squint #poor miya again he is straight up not having a good time in this fic

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icehot13 · 2 years

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Okay. Okay. I'm okay. Totally absolutely fine. Yup. One hundred percent okay. I am definitely not internally screaming, crying, sobbing...

Wade trying his best to be patient in his own way. Sending pink camelias to Steven that mean, I miss you. Excuse me while I go astral project for a moment.

(,,,,,also I am 👀👀 @ the title of the fic, sooo hopefully there will be a point where Wade doesn't need to send the pink camelias anymore. Perhaps the most obvious thing ever, but it didn't quite click in my brain until I was re-reading the chapter for the second time.)

Again, I one thousand and ten percent agree with Wade. Moon knight is hot while beating the shit out of people.

Marc and Wade together! Marc and Wade! Sad Marc who is going-through-it and Wade missing Steven but kind of again in his own way, trying to be there for Marc, to understand him. How he was watching him, wanting to figure him out. Marc is so sad, angry, and tired. I want to give him a hug.

Wadeee brought him a shampoo bar! I— 🥺 Forget every romantic gesture I have seen or read. This is it for me. Top tier in my opinion and maybe I am a fool but like that alone make me wanna swoon, 👉👈 just knowing he was doing that for Steven and knew what kind of scents he liked and he brought some specifically for Marc. And made sure to correct him right away when he assumed it was for Steven.

"We need you." Please, have mercy on me. I need a minute. It is simple and the truth. And it sucker punched me right in the heart.

I was so happy that Wade wanted Marc to get some rest while he went to get the scarab to help out, because of course, Wade would do that and of course, it was too good to be true and to be that easy.

The ending—

They took Wade’s boyfriend, whose hair smells like honey, and Wade’s going to kill them.

Yes. Wade, I fully support this agenda.

ao3 what do you mean I can't leave kudos again?! This is outrageous. You have blessed us with another amazing chapter and I feel like a giddy little kid. I am low-key thinking of this fic as an early birthday gift to myself. I love it so much!

yes yes yesssss!!!!! picturing marc getting these flowers meant for NOT HIM, for someone wade misses because IT'S MARC'S FAULT HE'S NOT HERE, and the guilt!! the sadness!!! marc doesn't even want to be here

i love!!!! wade and his love language of shampoo bars. he just wants marc to know that he sees them as individuals??? both important??? both deserving shampoo bars??? i love wade!!!

i just have so many feelings about steven being SO EASY to love because of how open and sweet he is, and marc thinking that he's hard to love??? so sadly bitter about it and guilty that he feels that way??

and happy early birthday!!!!!! consider this fic a birthday present because it is SO MUCH FOR YOU :D

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joycejoyce38 · 2 years

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silvermanconrad5 · 2 years

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allofthefeelings · 5 years

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What a nice morning to think about Avengers 2.0 attempting an escape room.

#Avengers Two Point Oh #this could go either very well or very badly #and I am ten thousand percent here for BOTH

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the-iceni-bitch · 2 years

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Blow You With a Bang

Pairing: Ari Levinson x fence!fem reader (Poison Paradise AU, Mustang and Cherry)

Words: ~1.3k

Summary: Ari doesn’t like you very much

Warnings: explicit language, light misogyny, teensy bit of emasculation, gun violence, injury to a major character, total disaster of a meet cute, kinda enemies to lovers set up, no minors due to the AU

A/N: I’ve been tossing this one around in my brain for a bit and finally got the muse for it, so here we go with another couple in the crime-verse. It’s gonna get nice and smutty after this one, they do not like each other, but they’re both so hot. It’s gonna be goooooood.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“It’s… I’m sorry, what do you mean it’s a fake?” Ari fumed as he rose out of his chair and stormed towards you, huffing out a frustrated breath when you just scowled at him. “That old bitch wouldn’t shut up about it, it can’t be fake.”

“But it is, the brushstrokes are all wrong.” You placed your glasses on the top of your head and ignored the way he was trying to intimidate you, you didn’t care how big the man was. “It’s a good fake, though, can still get you something for it, just not as much as you were hoping.”

“Fine, how much?” He grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest as he kept glaring at you. At least he was going to get something out of this cluster…

“Five thousand.” You ignored his rage filled hiss as you stood up and wiped off your hands, moving back to the front of your shop with a small shake of your head while he stormed after you. “After my cut.”

“What the fuck is your cut?” He grabbed your arm and whipped you around so you had to face him again.

“Thirty percent, standard.” You stared meaningfully at his hand on your arm, batting it off when he didn’t remove it on his own and shoving him away when he just gave you a surprised grunt. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You’re my problem, Jameson only took ten percent.” Your derisive snort made him want to reach out and strangle you.

“And you would have been lucky to get twenty-five hundred.” This dude did not want to get out of your personal space, it was making you annoyed. “That dumbass didn’t have my contacts.”

“Fuck, fine.” He hated how you looked at him like he was just a pain in the ass, like you wanted to shove him out your door rather than deal with him for a second longer, made him want to teach you a lesson. “Just call me once you have my money.”

“Will do.” You scoffed when he just spat to the side before stomping out of your shop, admiring the way his muscles moved under that almost too tight shirt even though he bugged the shit out of you. Thinking he could act all gruff and scary and you’d just bend to his will, handsome bastard. Just because he had a great ass and a cherry car he wasn’t gonna get under your skin. Fucking men.

Ari lit a cigarette when he climbed into his Mustang, frowning when he watched you through the large window in the front of your shop. He’d worked that dumb old broad for six months before he finally managed to lift that painting, and now all he was going to have to show for it was a measly five grand. Unless you were lying to him, which he wouldn’t put past you, you seemed like just the type of frigid bitch who thought she could pull one over on him. Every second he sat watching you he just got angrier, drumming his finger on the steering wheel as he pulled out and muttering to himself.

Heading to a bar probably hadn’t been the best idea, chatting with all the men about what a pain in the ass bitches were as he emptied half a bottle of scotch all on his own. All he could think about was that you had to be ripping him off, how you had to be laughing at what a sap he was, that sweet little laugh where you scrunched up your adorable nose that made him want to smack your perfect face. God, he hated you. Such a stuck up cunt.

Which was how he found himself staggering towards your shop at one in the morning, grumbling into his mostly empty bottle of bourbon and scowling once he got a look at the fancy lettering on your front window. Should’ve known that some prissy bitch who ran a damn antique store would try to fuck him over, probably thought he was an uneducated idiot who didn’t know any better. Laughing at him, stealing from him, making a fool out of him.

Made the decision to bust the glass out of your door a lot easier.

Well, he had to make his loss up somehow, might as well get it from you. Ari stepped over the glass and growled to himself when he almost tripped over the frame, rolling his shoulders as he stared around the shop and tried to decide how exactly you were going to pay him back.

“What the fuck are you doing, Levinson?”

Shit, how did you get there so fast? And holding a fucking hand cannon while wearing a practically see through nightie, a vision that was making him feel some kind of way, not that he’d ever admit it.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He bounced back fast, grabbing another necklace and shoving it into his pocket. “Wasn’t gonna let you rip me off, sweetheart. How the fuck did you get here?”

“My apartment is upstairs.” You pulled the hammer on the .357 and pointed it at him when he kept rifling through your shit. “Even if it wasn’t, this is a pretty fucking stupid idea, I would have figured out it was you. Put it down.”

“Please, you’re not gonna…” His whole body whipped back when you pulled the trigger, pain shooting through him from his shoulder as he cried out and stared at you in shock. “You fucking crazy bitch, you shot me!”

“I winged you, don’t be a pussy.” You cocked it again and tilted your head as you started walking towards him, giving him a wicked grin that made him snarl even while his eyes were raking over you. “Next is going in your leg, and then your gorgeous face, which I would hate to ruin, so put my shit back and get the fuck out of my shop.”

“But… ah, shit!” He caught himself on the wall when your next shot grazed his thigh, holding himself upright with one hand and pulling his loot out of his pocket with the other while he kept glaring at you. “Fine, you cunt, I catch you without that fucking cannon and I’m gonna make you pay for it.”

“Aww, you gonna fuck the bitch out of me? I’d love to see you try.” You followed him as he hobbled back out to his car, kicking some glass out of the way and leaning on the ruined door frame while you kept smiling at him demeaningly. “I’m taking the cost of repairs out of your cut.”

“The… what?” Ari froze while he was tying a tourniquet around his leg and gave you a shocked look. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re still gonna pay me?”

“Yeah, we had a deal, I’m not that big of a bitch.” You finally relaxed your hold on the gun and let it fall to your side. “Plus, want you to come back if you ever manage to lift something that’s actually valuable. See ya! Get out of here, I gotta call the cops so I can file an insurance claim.”

Ari could only stare at you for a few seconds before starting the Mustang and driving off so his brother’s wife could stitch him up. He didn’t know what he was going to do about you, but at least he was going to get paid, though he couldn’t stop thinking about you saying you’d like to see him try to fuck the bitch out of you.

#natalie writes #ari levinson #mustang and cherry #poison paradise au #ari levinson x fem reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans character #eighteen and over #eighteen plus

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stardustedknuckles · 2 years

Text

I'm not someone who loves the American South. I grew up there, 20 years and four houses between Alabama and Georgia. It's hot, it's humid, I almost died from a blood infection from poison ivy, and I was never quite from around here. Kids and adults were friendly to me but not really friends. You had to be from that town same as the other nine tenths of your school to be "one of them," and if you couldn't swing that you could probably get in with a Carhartt, a practiced accent, and a good grip on how to fit in the gender binary. I never had a chance, and that was true long before I realized I didn't want one.

I'm no lover of the South, so listen to me when I tell you: I am so fucking tired of any complaint a queer person makes in a rural area being met with "just move." I don't even mean the money issues that y'all one hundred percent overlook when you say that shit, either.

See, I didn't grow up loving or being loved by the South but I damn sure grew up around so many people that called it home in every sense. Loudly. Dyed in the wool southerners of all colors in homes going back generations. Tobacco-chewing, tractor-pulling, camo-hat-in-the-microwave unashamed rednecks who loved the only life and community they'd ever known - and were gay. Or lesbian. Or trans, or maybe they just kinda lived here and didn't fuss too much about the specifics of gender or who they liked. I watched the parents of those people make their queerness about them. I watched kids get put up in front of their churches to confess their sins and let the congregation pray over them. I saw a lot of people get hurt. Who would've had every right to get far away from these people, and who didn't. Because this was their home and fuck you, they were as much a part of it as anyone else. A lot of them did leave, out of the ones that could. But the point is they never should've had to. The answer for a lot of folks to "the place where I'm from is broken in a lot of ways" is not "then leave" and never has been.

A lot of them stayed and risked jobs and lifelong community for the chance to make a little bit of a difference for the next kids. The town I lived in for 17 years, my hometown whether I like it or not, had their first pride the year before I left. I went, and I watched the trucks drive by and the hooting and hollering and wondered which one of those trucks might throw something flammable and get applauded for it. Nothing happened. Most of the shouts were supportive, though I can't speak to the sincerity of them all. Didn't matter. That event only happened because of the queers that dug in to that red clay and said, "we can do better than this." Everyone who left had every right and reason, but the South owes so much to the ones that stayed. Whether they chose to or they just couldn't get out, every one of them made their home just a little safer for the next kids.

When people lament the state of where they grew up, when they grieve for losing relationships with their bigoted neighbors and their pastors and the people they knew from daycare to graduation, when they keep their queerness to themselves and hope for a better day - you don't get to tell them to "just move." That's not the gotcha you think it is, and if you handed all of them ten thousand dollars to get out and move to a city, you would be staggered by how many would turn around and put it towards healing the place they came from instead.

"If you don't like it, leave" goes both ways. And we've been the only ones told to do that for far too long. Long live the rural queers looking around at their homes and getting their hands dirty doing the work to make it a place the bigots who can't get their shit together want to leave for once. After all, it's that simple right? Just leave!

#Don't @ me I don't know what this is #Probably pretentious and whatever other synonym you can think of #This doesn't even get into the accessibility issues #I'm queer and autistic and I should have the option of a quiet country life where I don't fear for my safety for being either #'oh just leave your little quiet town and go to a brand new place that never sleeps with no privacy'#No and fuck you #Dax has thoughts #I don't think I'm southern but by god I want better for those who proudly are #Someone's gonna ask so I'll just tell you here #Southern folks like their hat bills bent a certain way and some rubber bands and few seconds in a microwave would do a new hat quick #I also knew a kid that involved his tractor somehow in the bending of his hat

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hugheshugs · 2 years

Note

hi! could you write reader x barzy where the reader gets accepted to uni with #22 + #55 please :-) thAnk you!!

hihi !! here it is, i hope u like it and thank u for the request <3

"god, i love you."

"good job, i'm so proud of you."

you had just gotten the letter in the mail. the longer you waited to open it, the more anxious you grew, but you were going to wait until mat was done practice so you could open it together.

it was from your dream school so you wanted him to be there for you no matter what the decision. you were sitting on the sofa biting your lip when he walked in. you were so lost in thought that you hadn't even noticed he was there until he sat beside you.

"it's here?"

you jumped at the sound of his voice. "i— yeah, it is. i'm nervous."

"don't be. you got accepted into your backup, you'll be alright no matter what the letter says," he reassured.

a sigh left your lips as you rested your head on his shoulder. "i don't want to open it."

"fine, i'll do it," he shrugged, grabbing the envelope out of your hand.

"wha— no, i want to open it!"

he smiled (obviously, because he did that on purpose), before handing it back to you.

"god, i love you," he muttered, grabbing your head with both of his hands and giving it a kiss.

you both faced each other and you gave him a smile, the nervousness washing away now that he was here to make you feel better.

"am i going to have to wait for christmas until you open that or.."

you shook your head, slapping his arm playfully. he just laughed before you decided to open it up. after taking the letter out of the envelope, you took a deep breath and dramatically closed your eyes.

"you do it! i can't do it myself," you exclaimed, pushing it into his chest.

"are you sure? 'cause i'll do it, you know i will," he asked for confirmation, to which you nodded.

"yes, i'm ten thousand percent sure. please open it before i lose my mind."

"first, i'm going to need you to open your eyes."

"no."

"no?"

"no."

he blinked, letting out a tired sigh of his own. "fine. let's see what this bad boy says.."

your heart pounded rapidly against your chest and it felt like he was taking hours. you began to worry, the realness of you not getting accepted starting to kick in — but then he spoke up.

"good job. i'm so proud of you."

"i got in?" your eyes shot open.

"you got in!" he nodded, extending his arms out.

"i got in!"

you jumped into his hold and he fell back onto the couch, squeezing you tight.

"i knew you'd make it," he mumbled. "i love you."

"i couldn't have done it without you," you told him which made him smile. "and i love you."

#mat barzal #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader #ny isles blurb #ny isles imagine #isles blurb #nhl blurb #hockey boy blurb #hockey blurbs #riri's blurbs #ny isles #new york islanders

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

In the Hay

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt: Hi! My birthday is October 13 and I would love to see Katniss and Peeta having a good time and a roll in the hay 😏😉 Modern AU but everything else is up to you! [submitted by @jedimandy]

Rating: M

Author’s Note: For the purposes of this story, straw and hay are used pretty much interchangably. They are not. To ease my weary mind, I have both in the hayloft. I’m positive I’m the only one who cares about this distinction, but I am a former farmgirl. Yes, I’m being somewhat tongue in cheek. Enjoyed writing this one. Happy birthday, @jedimandy! Hope it’s a wonderful one. ________________

“Hey, Everdeen!”

Peeta Mellark tosses a handful of straw at Katniss and dodges her attempt at retaliation. Both tasked with preparing the wagons for the hayride, they scamper around the hayloft as they toss down straw onto the wagons waiting below. There are four of them, all with the ability to hold at least fifty people, which seems like a lot but will all be needed for the evening since Panem University’s Panhellenic Council rented out the place for the evening.

“Peeta!” Katniss screeches as she attempts to get him back. He’s too quick, though, and she falls into the pile of fresh hay at her feet when he tackles her from the side and lands on her. His bulk presses her down, and she blinks at him for a few seconds before he lowers his head and kisses her. With tongue.

Groaning into his open mouth, she chases his taste, licking into him with abandon and reveling in the weight of him pinning her. If she rocks her hips, she can feel him hard against her, and if she allows her hands to wander, she can slip her palm over the rounded curve of his ass, which is only covered with a loose pair of gray sweats and some boxer briefs that cling to his perfectly sculpted booty and thighs.

Her favorite thing about Peeta is that he doesn’t play games. After overcoming his initial shyness, he flat out told her he’d harbored a crush on her for years and that he wanted a chance with her when they both found themselves employed at District 12 Farms. Despite the grumpiness of their boss, Haymitch Abernathy often schedules them together, although he’ll deny it if anyone asks. He also looks the other way the few times they’ve shown up for staff meetings with rumpled clothes and straw caught in their hair.

“How do you feel about a roll in the hay?” he asks, his mouth millimeters from hers. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner…well, we can get to rolling.”

“Peeta!” she gasped. “We can’t do that.”

“I feel like that’s a challenge.”

Shaking her head, she tries to backtrack, but his competitive spirit’s already been aroused. As much as she knows it’s wrong to bump uglies at work, she’s also positive they won’t get caught or that anyone would actually care. With this many college students working together in one place, the only thing more plentiful than drama is hormones. In fact, she’s about a thousand percent positive that at least ten of her co-workers are dating each other in some shape, form, or fashion.

“It’s only a challenge if we can get the wagons ready in time,” she argues pointedly and laughs as Peeta scrambles to his feet and pulls her up with him.

“Why didn’t you say so?” he teases and practically sprints to the wall where the pitchforks hang and starts scooping fresh hay onto the waiting wagons below them.

It’s hard work, but eventually they finish. When he hangs up his pitchfork, Peeta turns his attention to her and gives her a lascivious grin. Waggling his eyebrows at her, he tugs her up against him and nibbles on her jawline while she threads her fingers through the mop of ashy blonde curls at the nape of his neck.

“We’re too exposed here,” she protests weakly, already unable to resist his hands and the magic of his lips.

“Good thing there’s a little alcove right behind that wall of bales,” he says with a chuckle. “You remember that I helped stack them a few weeks ago.”

“What a smart, smart man.”

“I know, right?” he teases and manages to pull off her long enough to grab her hand and lead her over to the nook that will shield them from prying eyes if anyone climbs up to the hayloft to find them.

Yielding to temptation, Katniss wraps herself around him and closes her eyes as his hands caress her bare skin and work open the button on her jeans. When his fingers slide into the heat between her legs, she whimpers softly and bites the inside of her cheek so she can stay somewhat quiet.

“So wet, sweetheart. I want to drink you down,” Peeta murmurs against her flushed skin. “Bet I can make you come apart twice before the wagons roll.”

She quickly realizes he’s right as he strokes and rubs intentionally until her thighs actually quiver. Legs shaking, she bites into his shoulder as his fingers dip inside and stroke her walls. It doesn’t take long before her body seizes, and she covers his hand in sticky fluid. Groaning softly, he sucks a bruise into the crook of her neck before pulling his hand free and licking his fingers clean.

“That’s once,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous as he strips her jeans from her and nudges his thigh in between hers. Rubbing against him, she arches her back as she slides over him. Smearing her release on his skin feels completely debauched, which does nothing other than make her want more. His hands grip her hips as he guides her back and forth, pressing up into her as her whimpers catch in the back of her throat.

“Oh my God,” she gasps as her eyes roll back in her head. “Peeta…”

Holding her through her climax, he ducks his head to breathe hotly over her left nipple and nip at it lightly as her body shakes in his arms.

“And that’s twice.”

Too sated to even smack at him for his smugness, Katniss drops to her knees when he falls onto his back into the hay. The sun’s sunk below the horizon, and the sky outside is lit up in brilliant oranges and pinks as the hayloft darkens.

“Want to try for a third?” she asks through a satisfied yawn.

It’s no surprise that Peeta does. By the time the wagons roll out of the barn, he’s inside her. When the hayride ends, she’s not the only one who’s come apart more than once.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #birthday #hutchhitched #submission #prompt

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barry-j-blupjeans · 2 years

Note

For the combo prompts how about Taako and Angus next door neighbor/celebrity or Tres Horny Boys resurrection/road trip (which I just realized is a set that basically just. Describes stolen century lmfao) !!!! Feel free to ignore if neither of those spark inspiration in you tho of course!

31. Resurrection / road trip

((weird au combos here!!))

"D'ya think they're gonna be mad at us?" Merle asked, peaking out the back window. They were about halfway to their destination by now, but it was taking ages. They had to move slow enough for the zombie horde not to lose track of them, but fast enough to actually be getting somewhere in a timely manner. Merle was bored. He was running out of snacks and road games and there was only so long he could listen to Magnus's podcast preferences or Taako's taste music. He wasn't allowed to use the aux cord anymore. Not after... last time.

"Nooo," Magnus said at the same time Taako said,

"Oh deffo, they will. No doubt."

"We're doing them a favor," Magnus argued. "Lup and Barry work specifically to get rid of ghosts and ghouls and all that. What's a better gift than bringing them a horde of zombies? We don't even have to tell them where we found them! Or who brought them back to life!"

"Oh, no, we're ratting Miller out a hundred percent," Taako said, looking at his nails with a bored expression. "We agreed on that. Merle, can you reach my nail polish?"

"Depends on what you'll do for me in return," Merle said. He very much could reach Taako's nail polish, thanks to Taako leaving them literally everywhere he went. Merle hadn't known there were so many colors before he met Taako.

"I won't throw you out of the car," Taako said amicably. He glanced back at Merle, squinting with a suspicious-looking expression that kind of read "I might do that anyway".

"I'll take it," Merle said, unbuckling his seatbelt and reading towards the floor. There was a bag under here somewhere.

"Don't unbuckle!" Magnus cried, glancing back as well. "That's not safe!"

"We're goin' like, two miles an hour!" Merle said dismissively. "Oh, hey, I found my glasses!" He slipped them on. The prescription was so old it did nothing to help him anymore. He didn't take them back off.

"What if we need to speed up?" Magnus asked. "The zombies look incredibly close, maybe we should-"

"Let him find the polish first, my guy," Taako cut in. "You need to just like- chill."

"Found some chips!" Merle offered and Taako stuck a hand back to take them.

"I am chill," Magnus said. "I'm so chill."

"That's what someone who's not chill sounds like," Taako said. "Listen, Mags, sure we've got like, ten thousand zombies chasing us but it's not a big deal, y'know? Sometimes, that's just how life is!"

"Box of bandaids!" Merle called and Taako snatched that up, too.

"Now we can heal you," he offered, waving the bandaids threateningly close to Magnus's field of view. The car swerved slightly. "Since Merle sure as well isn't gonna."

"Hey!" Merle said, getting his hand around the nail polish bag.

"It's true," Magnus sighed.

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt!" Merle said. He sat up, tossing the bag at Taako's head. Taako yelped. "Can ya heal that with a bandaid, Taako? Huh?"

"Stop distracting me!" Magnus said, speeding up just a little bit as Merle buckled himself back in. "We need a game plan. What are we gonna do when we get to Lup and Barry? On top of that, did anyone tell Lup and Barry we were coming?"

Merle and Taako shared a glanced. Magnus's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, just slightly.

"Not it!" Merle offered, sitting back as both Magnus and Taako echoed him at the same time, and argued about who said it first.

#magnus burnsides #taako #merle highchurch #mine #ise cube writing #asks #anon #anon ur so polite i love you <3

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

to the touch | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc (ft. brother yoongi)

genre: mutual pining, fluff, cute crushes, brothers best friend

warnings: JIMIN that's it

words: 5, 216

summary: he's back

“You’re … you’re here?” You squeak and it’s not one of your best moments even if you were sure Yoongi would argue otherwise and that you rarely had average moments, to begin with. But there was something about spontaneity and surprise that threw you off in the worst way possible and made your brain short-circuit to the point where you’re unable to throw coherent thoughts together. And this was definitely a surprise, one that you’d never expected to happen because—

“I am,” Jimin says curtly, tossing you a firm nod of his head when he pushes you aside and steps into your apartment like he’s been year a thousand times. But in reality, it’s his first time standing at your doorstep, first time knocking on your door, and definitely the first step he’s ever had the chance to get a glimpse of how your living room looks like.

You’re still gaping at the entrance with the door open and you’re sure if any of your neighbors were to step out of their homes, they’d just see a lone girl outside that looked a little too unnerved to bother. When you snap out of it and turn your body to face your visitor, he’s already made himself comfortable on your couch and it’s hard to piece together the fact that Jimin was quite in fact in your living room, and lounging on your couch, staring at your television like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“W-What—how?” You croak because there are about ten million different thoughts running through your head but the most pressing one is how Jimin looked … different.

A good difference, for sure. He’s always been handsome and unreasonably so. Especially with the way that he’s dyed his hair back to black and the gentle fluff of how it lays atop his head. You note that he still kept his style despite him going MIA for three years and wore slacks that shaped his legs (and butt) beautifully with a casual shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was unfair how effortlessly good-looking he was on a spontaneous occasion while you looked anything but, especially with your sweats and old tank top.

But Jimin had always been a little hard to read. Terrifying and brassy all at once but never obstructive—although you’d argue that his presence was the obstruction as it is of how distracted you feel whenever he was around you years ago. It’s like you never learned how to accommodate his presence because he happened to fill every space with just his body even if he wasn’t that tall.

“I thought I’d pay a visit. Your brother gave me your address.” He says, finally turning his head to face you, and its still blank like every expression you remember made towards you. You expected nothing more or nothing less than the way he stares you over and makes you feel like the outsider in your own home.

“Yoongi …” You grit, cursing your brother mentally and hoping he’d make use of that stupid sibling telepathy power he claims he has to receive your gripe.

You clear your throat as you awkwardly shuffle closer towards the couch and hover awkwardly by the arm of the sofa to keep your distance. It’s been years and it’s still a little unfamiliar to see Jimin right in front of you, and not someone you kept at the back of your mind.

“You could’ve called …” You say softly while fiddling with your thumbs. Jimin just raises an eyebrow at you and you feel stupid for saying that already.

Some things don’t change and it’s proven when your heart still beats the same when he’s around you. You cursed at yourself for being weak-willed because you thought time would help you get over your silly crush on Jimin but you also long acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t just a crush. It was more.

You hated falling for the cliches of crushing on your brother’s best friend, especially one that was just emotionally reserved and detached ninety percent of the time. The only conversations you remember having with Jimin were the ones that you were blushing at him when he looked at you a little longer than usual, or when he drove you to and from school when Yoongi left for university.

But then he disappeared, without saying goodbye and you only found out from his parents that he got into a dance program abroad and packed his things and left. Obviously, twenty-year-old you was devastated because you somehow convinced yourself that he enjoyed your presence even if he was huffing and puffing every five minutes when you’d fall into a ramble of your own.

He changed his number and he wasn’t a social media person so you had no idea what he was doing or how he was, besides the occasional mention of his name in conversations you had with your brother. It sucked. Majorly. Because you really liked him even if he was cold because you knew that Jimin was a good person. A cold and shitty person wouldn’t pat you on your head before your wisdom teeth extraction and mumble it’s okay if he wasn’t kind.

“The place is nice.” He ignores your statement and glances around your apartment and you feel smaller. You do feel a little relieved that he approved of the place, and you did spend hours browsing through catalogues and going through roommates until you decided that this was perfect. Granted, it was a little pricey but you valued comfort and a decent workplace to really get you motivated.

“Thank you.” You mumble, still shifting on the balls of your feet and Jimin just raises an eyebrow at your impersonal stance. You know he wouldn’t point it out because he wasn’t that kind of guy, but his face often spoke for him so you swallowed all the concerns you had and took a seat at the edge of the sofa, as far away from him as possible.

“Do you live alone?” He asks. You’re about to respond but he doesn’t let you.

“It’s dangerous if you do. Do you really just answer the door for anyone without checking who it is? You’ll get yourself into some serious trouble if you aren’t careful.” He chides you.

You want to scoff at him because you were an adult and you’ve learnt a few things along the road to adulthood. Jimin was always a little on edge most of the time and you knew he was just bad at expressing his emotions so you never faulted him for it. But now, you were a little older and not as naive—but unfortunately still very much into him.

“God Jimin, it’s fine—”

The door opens and both your heads immediately turn to the source, and Jimin is sharp with his movements and you try to not allow your heart to flutter when he tugs you closer to him and hides your body with his own as if he thought it was an intruder. But you knew better, so you knew it was—

“Tae. You’re back early.” You greet your roommate who only eyes the man on the couch who has you situated behind him like he was your personal shield. His bag is tugged over his shoulder and you see a few of his art supplies threatening to fall out so you hop off the couch to help him with his belongings, and Jimin’s gaze just burns harder onto the back of your skull.

When you’re close enough, Taehyung leans in and gives a brief glance over at Jimin who is still piercing him with a fierce gaze.

“Why is your booty call staring at me like I’ve murdered ten kittens?” Taehyung whisper yells and you glare at him, pinching his hip because just because he thought he was being quiet didn’t mean that he could easily get rid of his naturally loud voice.

“That is not my booty call!” You respond equally as agitated, “That’s … Jimin.”

Taehyung’s eyes bulge out of his socket when he looks over your shoulder once more to still see Jimin glaring at the two of you.

“Why is he so fucking scary? You said he was nice!” Taehyung hisses.

“He is nice!” You weakly defend, “He’s just … scary looking?”

You know it doesn’t convince Taehyung because he’s sighing and dropping his belongings to the floor, offering Jimin as sincere of a smile as he can muster even though you’re fully aware that he’s terrified of the man on your living room couch.

“Hi! I didn’t know _____ was having guests over. I’m Taehyung.” He smiles brightly at said guest but Jimin just blinks at his cordiality and then looks over to you.

“Is he your boyfriend?” The question throws you off guard and you can tell that Taehyung even more terrified when Jimin completely ignores his presence even though he was the tallest person in the room.

You splutter for a response even if the answer to that was obvious. But Jimin had a shitty way of interrogating people, even if it probably would work in legal settings because he was just terrifying enough for you to stumble over your words and make you look guiltier than you were.

“Unfortunately not.” Taehyung thinks he’s saving you when he lightly jokes with Jimin. And you want to facepalm because Jimin was aloof and impartial to everything, and had horrible skills of reading the room because you were sure that Jimin thought that Taehyung wanted to get in your pants.

“Tae, would you excuse us for a second?” You smile stiffly at Taehyung who is quick to oblige as he darts into his room.

Jimin now has his arms folded across his chest in a manner that makes him look more hostile, but you knew him well enough that you suppose he just had a lot of questions.

“Did you really have to be like that?” You ask irritably as Jimin scoffs at you.

“Please, do enlighten me. All I did was ask you a simple question, which you couldn’t even answer. What was that about?” Jimin responds equally as displeased but you had so many questions and you didn’t need to deal with his mini tantrum right now, especially between the walls of your own home.

“Don’t turn this on me! You turned up to my house unannounced after three years of no contact and you expect me to bend at your will? What do you take me for? A puppet?” You retaliate with petulancy and you can tell Jimin is slowly getting more annoyed by the second but won’t blow up just yet. Or probably because you had another person in the house.

“Am I not allowed to visit?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.

You scoff at his audacity because Jimin was seriously so bad at reading emotions. You weren’t even sure why you liked him but your heart never made reasonable decisions for you.

“We haven’t spoken in years, Jimin!” You throw your hands in the air, “I didn’t even know where you were or what you were doing because you disappeared like you were running away from a crime!”

“Did I need to update you on my whereabouts?” You know his question is genuine even though it was posed a little rough and you want to pull at your hair because obviously, you wanted to know! Jimin was the person you spent the most time with, outside of school, and one day he wasn’t anymore.

“Of course! I thought we were—I thought … why did you just disappear?” For some reason, it was hard to say that you and Jimin were friends either because the only reason why he’d ever tolerate you in the first place was that he was a good friend to Yoongi and you were just someone that came with it by association. He never outwardly said that he hated spending time with you but he never said he enjoyed it either.

Jimin raises an eyebrow and stands up, and you notice that he still towers over you. He walks towards you slowly, and you feel all the hotter under his intense scrutiny that you just want to retreat to your bedroom and forget this ever happened.

“You don’t need to know.” He says and you feel yourself deflate, “I wanted to visit because your brother’s worried about you.”

The confession just annoys you because you knew to a certain extent that Jimin wouldn’t be here from … wherever he was … if it was only for your brother. He had to give a shit somewhere deep down in him enough to make an effort to get your address from your brother, then turn up on your doorstep unannounced with his usual impassioned stare.

“Oh fuck off, will you? I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.” You bite back.

Jimin shoots you an unimpressed stare at your snappishness and he won't lie and say that he was pleasantly surprised to see you after a long time. You were always pretty, in an unconventional way, he supposes. You never made an effort to look nice but just did with the way you approached life, even when you were younger. But now that you were standing in front of him with a bite that you didn't have when he left, he's intrigued.

"You weren't so rude before I left." He smirks at you.

His gaze also makes you burn and you avoid his eyes when it searches for yours. You hate that his tone makes you feel funny and that you wanted him to be a little mean.

"Yeah, well—that's what happens when you don't see someone after three years with no contact or notice. They change. They get a little annoyed because someone is just too emotionally constipated to ever make any effort to keep in touch." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Why are you throwing a hissy fit? Needed me to keep you company?" He prompts.

You flush but still glare at him.

"Whatever, Jimin. I just would've appreciated it if you called. Or at least have done something to let me know that you were alive." You mutter.

Somehow, he's managed to cage you in with his body against the back of the sofa, and your breath hitches when you feel his broad chest pressed on yours. You didn't realise it happened until he places his arms by your side, effectively leaving you with no room to leave. You gulp because this is the closest you've ever been to Jimin and you feel dizzy. He smells fresh like laundry and flowers. It's a huge juxtaposition to his demeanour, but he smells good and you want to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"Why would I? You're Yoongi's sister. Not my girlfriend." He smirks.

You huff and roll your eyes. The reminder stings a little and you know he's baiting you.

"So? Were we not at least friends?" You snap.

He wants to laugh because you're obviously annoyed at the casual way he referred to you as Yoongi's little sister. You're frowning but attempting to pretend that it didn't bother you.

Jimin would be lying if he said he was never interested. Because he was, undoubtedly so. But back then when you were still navigating your way at the beginning of adulthood with Yoongi constantly breathing down his neck, he would have never done anything to compromise his friendship with your brother; or lead you on. But now you were standing in front of him, soft and sweet with a little edge to you that draws him in.

"Do you usually have crushes on your friends?" He pushes.

Your eyes widen and snap up to look at his teasing expression. His smirk is apparent against the rest of his face and you feel absolutely mortified that he's so close to you when he called you out.

"W-What? A crush? I didn't have a crush on you!" You rebuff him with a stuttery voice and you weakly try to push him away.

But he locks you in position with his hands around your wrist as he leans down and crowds you further with his presence.

"You didn't?" He feigns hurt, then he pulls away abruptly and you're immediately chasing his warmth, "Shame. I would've liked that a lot."

You gape at him when he shuffles away, putting some distance between the two of you as he dusts his hands on his slacks, giving you a curt smile; one that never reached his eyes but that was still Jimin being friendly.

"Y-You what ...?" You squeak.

Jimin shrugs and walks towards your door and you're half-terrified and half-relieved at the prospect of him leaving. But you're more terrified because you don't know if you'll ever see him again and with your current interaction you don't think you'll ever get over him.

"Usually a cute girl crushing on me would be a huge ego boost ... but you didn't, so ..." He trails off.

You bite your lips as you play with your hands. You know he's teasing you and you didn't know when he's gotten so forward, or good at this game. But you suppose Jimin has always been charming too, even if he was bad at emotions. He was good at playing them. And the way he rakes his eyes over your body only to bite his lip makes you burn in want.

He's about to turn the knob of your door but you reach out to grab his wrist before your mind can tell you it's a bad idea.

"W-What if I ... what if I ..." You mumble, hands wrapped loosely around his wrist as he turns around, leaning against the door the way boys do that was super hot for no reason.

"Speak up, bunny."

The nickname only makes you blush harder because it reminded you of all the times he's ever called you that stupid childhood nickname that somehow followed you up until adulthood. But you had to admit the way that Jimin uses it makes you feel ...warm. Like you want him to call you bunny for whatever reason he does so.

"WhatifIdid ...?" You mutter quickly and softly that Jimin leans in to get a better listen, also prompting you to speak louder.

"Couldn't hear you." He sing-songs.

You grit your teeth and swallow your pride because even after three years, you were soft and pliant for Park Jimin even if he was hot to the touch. You just wanted to please him.

"What if I did?" You say a little louder, braver, with determined eyes, "What if I did have a crush on you?"

He grins at you in Jimin fashion that was still a little reserved but warm because you knew him. You knew that was what he wanted to hear. So, he rests his body against the door and gestures his finger in a come-hither motion to get you to step closer, which you oblige. It should've been offensive that he could summon you so easily, but Jimin was a lot of things but he would never take advantage of your passiveness.

"I don't know. What would you have done if I hadn't left? Play friends? Family maybe?" He teases.

You scrunch your nose at the prospect of playing family with him because you've heard that phrase way too many times. Your parents at one point kept on saying how you had two older brothers instead of one because Jimin was always there, but they were blissfully unaware of your crush and the way you'd frown at the suggestion.

"We would've hung out more ..." You mumble.

Jimin snorts but cocks his head for you to continue.

"What's the point of this?" You huff, shutting your eyes when you can feel his gaze on you.

"You tell me. You were the one with the crush."

You want to correct him and say am the one with the crush, but you bite your tongue.

"You're the one who wants to know." You respond with indignation.

He chuckles, low and deep before he tilts your chin upwards with his index finger.

"You're still a little girl, aren't you ______?" You think it's the first time Jimin has called your name the entire time he's been here and you almost whine with the sultry look he's giving you.

Jimin applauds his self-control because you were a sight to behold. Even if you were in sweats and a tank, with your glasses drooping slightly down your nose and tangled hair, you still were so appealing even if you didn't know. You looked comfortable, homey and it did make Jimin burn with an ugly monster to know that 'Tae' could see you like this daily.

"Am not." You growl, but he only thinks you look like an angry bunny.

"You are. You don't know how to ask for things, hm?" He hums, tracing a finger up your jaw to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I so do know how to ask for things that I want. I do it all the time." You retort petulantly like you had a point to prove but Jimin only chuckles darkly.

"Then what do you want right now?"

Jimin's question is expected but it also throws you off-guard.

"R-Right n-now?" You stutter.

He tuts as if he expected your bewildered and shocked expression.

"When else but now, bunny?" He whispers as his gaze has you locked in a trance when your eyes dart to his lips when he drags his tongue over it. You're entrapped in him because his mouth suddenly looked really inviting.

"I really wanna ..." You mumble, ears flushing a pretty shade of red and you lean into Jimin's hand when he cradles your cheek gently.

Jimin was capable of being gentle, even though he chose not to. But he never was, though there was something about you that made his territorial, made him want to fight. He didn't know when he started feeling this way but he supposed it was a flurry of emotions and the accumulation of the times he's spent with you throughout the years. Three years didn't do him justice and only made him think of you more. He knew he was hard to read, and frankly even harder to understand. Jimin also knew that you were fully aware of this fact. But that didn't deter you in trying to get to know him, to prick yourself against all his edges that were harder to accept.

You were sweet and naive, a type of person that Jimin would usually scoff at. But your one-dimensional and idealistic view of the world was fresh to him, even if that meant you were living in your head most of the time. It never took away from the fact that you were kind and understanding. The type of person that cracked all of Jimin's harshness made him want to try.

But it didn't mean he wasn't going to have his fun. He liked seeing you like this, gentle and warm, close to him as you look at him with a hazy expression.

"Wanna do what?" He prods, reaching his hand to the back of your hair to tug your face closer to his, but maintaining enough distance to prompt you to make the first move.

Jimin would do it. But he wanted to be sure that you wanted this, and not the idea of him. Sure, he was giving you hints and nudging you, but he also was aware of the fact that you'd never say or do anything that you didn't want. You were always clear-cut about this type of thing.

"You know ... that ... thing ..." You mumble, shifting on your feet as he glances down to your face.

You still looked unsure, but you leaned into his hold regardless, and Jimin took that as a good sign. You just need a little push.

"You know I'm not that bright. You need to tell me, bunny." He says gently.

You can't stop the small whimper in the back of your throat at the nickname and it's taking everything in Jimin's willpower to not take you against this wall. He would, but you deserved sweet things and he wanted to try be that for you.

"I ... I wanna ..." You whisper, "Wanna ... kiss you."

You clutch his t-shirt in his hands and when you glance up he's grinning widely as if he's won the lottery.

He nods his head ever so softly, and you take that as a cue to lean in.

When you do kiss him, you already feel your knees buckling because it's like everything you dreamed and more. Jimin was the right amount of assertive and gentle that makes you chase his mouth even if you were pressed up against him. He takes the lead eventually when his hand cups your jaw to angle your mouth deeper into his, and your body flush against his.

You feel like a teenager again having your first kiss, but it may as well be because you've always wondered what it was like to share your first kiss with Jimin back in high school.

"Is that all?" He whispers against your lips, but before you can respond—

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry!" You hear Taehyung squeak and that makes you pull away from Jimin, highly embarrassed to be caught making out with him against your door like a horny teenager.

You want to curse at Taehyung but he's already ducking into the kitchen before you can get any words out.

Jimin doesn't look affected, if anything, he looks pleased. The moment you shared a clear testament of who you belonged to and Jimin loved the fact of people knowing it was him.

When you look at Jimin, you're equally parts flushed from the kiss but giddy too. You give him a shy smile, and Jimin just chuckles lowly at your bashfulness.

"I'll see you around, ______," Jimin smirks at you when he reaches for the doorknob to leave. You follow him out, wanting a little more privacy even if it was in the hallway of your apartment complex.

When Jimin steps out and with you behind him, you swing on your feet as he observes your next actions. You clear your throat, even though you were confused and glad—because that was the closest thing you could get from Jimin that was affection so you'd take it.

"So ... what does this ..." You mumble, before shaking your head.

Jimin raises an eyebrow.

"What did I say about asking for what you want?" He berates you as if he was speaking to a child, but his tone is still curt and a little detached, but very like Jimin. You know that it's him and you like that anyways.

"Don't make me say it ... it's already embarrassing as it is ..." You whine, burying your head into his t-shirt.

Jimin welcomes the sudden closeness and pats you softly on the head. It's a little stiff because he still isn't used to physical affection that wasn't 'intimate', but he did say he would try for you.

"Again: I'm not that bright." He teases.

You roll your eyes, but then bite your lips when you see he's waiting for a response.

"... what does this mean for us?" You ask softly.

Jimin smiles at you and decides to grant you a gentle kiss to your forehead. A kiss that was so domestic and soft that you feel your heart soar.

"Check your phone." Is all he says when he waves you goodbye, as you stare at him dumbly, heart still fluttering and cheeks burning.

When you return back into your home, you lean against your door as you press a hand to your chest to feel the way your heart beats rapidly against it. You feel weak in the knees but so blissful that you let out a squeal into the palm of your hands.

Once you've calmed down, and offered Taehyung a look that said you'll explain later—you rush to check your phone, only to smile at what lies on the screen.

Unknown Number [17:21]: hi bunny

Unknown Number [17:21]: save my contact

Unknown Number [17:21]: make sure that when people see it they'll know you're mine

Unknown Number [17:22]: see you soon

Unknown Number [17:22]: if you're still a little slow ... it's jimin

Unknown Number [17:25]: ❤️

You notice the heart emoji was sent a few minutes after the rest of his texts, which showed you that he may have contemplated whether or not to send it. You feel your heart flutter, as you plop back onto your bed, a wide grin splaying on your face.

extra scene

"I'm sorry ... what?" Yoongi chokes on the piece of meat he just shoved into his mouth as he stares at his best friend in the face as if he'd grown another head. But as usual, he seemed to only attract people that were vastly similar to him, and Jimin's face is unreadable as ever. But Yoongi knows he's serious and not fucking around because he's looking intently at the older boy for a response.

"So?" Jimin says casually, leaning into his seat and Yoongi needs to chug down a glass of water to ensure that the food goes down all the way before he can say anything to the question Jimin just posed him with.

"You want my sister's address ... to ... I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong but I had a fall and I may have a concussion so I don't know if I'm hearing things right," Yoongi deadpans but Jimin just rolls his eyes at the older one's dramatics before nodding his head for him to continue.

"You want her address to ... confess to her?" Yoongi says hesitantly and Jimin nods his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But it wasn't. Because as long as Yoongi's known Jimin, he's been all detached and broody, uninterested in everything and everyone. He's never shown the slightest interest in anyone and usually opted for casual hookups than actual relationships so clearly, Yoongi is a little skeptical.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks baffled.

Jimin nods, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes. I went for a medical check-up that day and my doctor said he's never seen results as impeccable as mine." Jimin says blandly.

Yoongi scoffs.

"You're just not ... the dating type, you know? Much less ... with my sister?" It sounds weird to even Yoongi's ears. He grew out of his childish mindset and had no problem with Jimin dating you, but it was still weird to see his best friend showing interest in you.

"I like her. And I respect you. Which is why I came to you before I did anything."

Yoongi gapes at his best friend, who looks much softer than he usually does.

"Wow ... I just ..." Yoongi exhales, "Damn."

Jimin offers a small smile before gesturing to their food.

"At least we can really be brothers now." Yoongi jokes, sliding a piece of paper with your address on it to Jimin.

Jimin smiles fondly at the paper before tucking it into his shirt jacket.

The image of you in white, smiling and looking only at him drives him to see you the next day.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts jimin #jimin imagine #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #park jimin fluff #park jimin fic #fluff #mutual pining #cute

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter. I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her. It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point. I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test. It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again. At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.” I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it. Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide. I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead. She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca. She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After. It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time. But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out. As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could. And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way. Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust. It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that. Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek. He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger. It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used. We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2. Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics. Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case. The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out! With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him. It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty. I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL. Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work. Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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