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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— phone calls from far away + katsuki bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — katsuki get's grumpy when he's away from you - but luckily his groomsmen know just who to call to make him feel better.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, crack? smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, slight praise!kink, pro-hero!bakugou, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2.6K.

⭑ notes — hello my lurvs! i feel like its been ages since i wrote the main man bkg so here's an old wip i found and ended up finishing so i could practise short form! twas picked by you guys! enjoy ! - m.list ✩

“i need you take this phone, drop your panties and have sex with bakugou. now.”

“kaminari— what?”

you’d just picked up the phone, halfway through a peaceful afternoon relaxing before your own bridal shower in a few days and hadn’t been expecting a call from some of your husband’s closest friends.

“you heard me! take the phone, take off your underwear and fuck—“

“please!” kirishima pleads with you next, looking like he’s about to cry. “he’s driving me insane!”

“what’s he done now?”

“he’s grumpier than usual, threatened to skin deku alive for chewing too loud and nearly ripped the damn bolt out of my hair when i asked him to pass the salt at breakfast— please, be my saving grace here and have phone sex with your fiancé before he kills us all!”

you smile and cock your head, picking up the kettle to finish your tea. “that just sounds like regular old katsuki,” kaminari’s bottom lip wobbles and kirishima groans in the background— it was obvious you were their last resort. a guys only holiday for your lover’s bachelor party had been their idea despite your warnings but you did miss katsuki and you were feeling pent up from being away from him. you were sure he felt the same, he was clingy and pouty, threw tantrums when he couldn’t have you.

“we’re begging you here,” shouto cuts in as he enters the frame— ice cold drink in his hands and his face calm. though his mismatched eyes blaze with stress. “thirty minutes of your time and i’ll let you take a spin in my father’s private jet.”

you note sero tugging on his hair in the background.

“i thought hush money wasn’t your thing, todoroki.” you’re coy with your words, watching the boys fall into a pit of despair at your boyfriend’s tantrums.

izuku speaks next, his green eyes large and glassy. “please.”

in the end, you relent in amusement and send the boys off to give the phone to bakugou while you make yourself comfortable in your shared bedroom— surrounded by his lingering scent of caramel and sweet musk woven into the threads of the expensive linen sheets the blonde insisted on buying.

you can’t stop your heart from fluttering once your fiancé pops into view— he’s decked out in a lose fitting button down, open to reveal his perfectly cut washboard abs and the expanse of his skin, slightly golden and tanned from the caribbean sun. katsuki’s luminous red eyes soften as soon as they settle their sights on you, love flickering amongst the darkened flecks that spiral within them. “hi baby, how’s your vacation going?” you sing, sinking back into the blankets and holding your phone up above so that he can get a good view of you.

“awful. these idiots wouldn’t know how to plan a trip outta this damn resort if they tried.” bakugou comments, going quiet as he waits for your laughter. he gets clingier when he’s away, finding himself souring over the fact that he can’t just roll over and bury his face in your neck every morning— instead he’s met with eijirou or stupid izuku trying to drag him out for some bachelor’s fun…when really all katsuki wants is to be with you. “miss you, wish you were here.”

“i miss you too kats, so much.” with a voice that drips like honey, you lower your tone until it’s sultry— your siren’s song running smoothly through bakugou’s ears. he quirks a brow at you, recognizing it as he mumbles a quiet ‘yeah?’ “mhm…wanna see how much i’ve missed you, baby?”

“‘course i wanna see you, pretty girl…” acknowledging his hum as one of approval, you pan your camera down the expanse of your lounging body. using one hand to hike up your (katsuki’s) shirt— revealing plush thighs and a soft tummy and the stretch marks that curl around your waist and curve of your hips. the low groan bakugou lets out from over the line shoots straight down to your clit, the little nub pulsing with need as you drag your fingertips over your skin just like your fiancé would.

both of you develop a hitch in your breath when you hit the waistband of your panties— they’re nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary but katsuki finds the comfort and confidence you have in yourself incredibly sexy. you can tell by the intensity of his stare, ruby gem eyes honed in on your every movement, that he’s hungry for you— like a feral animal that hasn’t eaten in weeks.

“how bad d’ya wanna see, katsuki?” you ask him shakily, toying with your waist band, hips wiggling as if to prompt an answer out of him.

bakugou’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and even though the service on your call isn’t the best, you’re still able to pick up on his ragged and uneven breathing. “you’re killin’ me here, sweetness. show me.”

“m’kay, let me get you a better view.”

feeling the flame of desire ignite in your core— you make quick work of propping your phone up against spare pillows and spread your legs either side of the frame. he does the same. there’s a growing wet patch from where your slickness seeps into the crotch of your underwear— obvious to katsuki even from over the screen, painted in darker shades of pixels. you’re so wet that it defines the puffiness of your folds pulsing between the material and for a bit of relief, you slide the length of your middle finger between them, whimpering out your fiancé’s name.

“that’s it, touch yourself f’me,” the blonde slurs, his eyes hooded and voice hoarse, entranced by the way you slap three fingers against your sticky and clothed cunt. “can you take your panties off too, sweetness? wanna see that pussy ‘n how she’s doin’ without me.” katsuki knows how turned on you get from him watching you, admiring you like you’re a work of art belonging to one of the finest galleries in the world— so he takes it upon himself to guide you softly, command you even when he’s thousands of miles away.

you do as your fiancé says, peeling your panties off despite how thick, clear strings of arousal glue them to your sex before you toss them into the room somewhere. a choked moan rattles around in katsuki’s throat, watching your unused, tiny hole quiver around nothing after being exposed to the cold air— he can’t help but whine next, all high pitched and desperate, wishing it was him who was circling two digits around your entrance and occasionally dipping them into your salacious sex instead of you.

that should be him stretching you out, should be him in his bed— touching up his girl and playing with her swollen clit as blood carrying lust and happy hormones rush to it. “such a…such a good fuckin’ girl for me, baby.” bakugou goads, his eyes damn near rolling back at the sound of your lewd pussy squelching around your fingers echoing around his hotel room. your hips slowly rocking against the palm of your hand so you slowly fuck them into yourself.

his camera picks up on every detail, the way your cunt glistens with arousal and the way your thighs twitch the more you give yourself— curling your fingers against your soft velvet walls bakugou’s been dying to be inside since the night he left for this stupid fucking bachelors trip. the more he sees you stuff yourself, the more his cock twitches to life and strains against the netting on the inside of his swim shorts, the first spurts of milky precum smearing against it.

before you get too lost in the pleasure, you sit up and pull your fingers from the snugness of your selfish sex and spit onto them as if to give yourself more lube to fuck yourself deeper— taking a break to reel katsuki in. “take your cock out f’me kats, i know you’re hard.” you say breathless, the tail end of your words tapering off into a quiet sigh while slap down on your soaked pussy for his viewing. “probably so pent up, miss your pretty cock. miss havin’ you inside me.”

bakugou shudders at your praise, moving quickly to kick off his shorts and letting his aching cock spring free— the length of it smacking against his tummy, precum beading just above his belly button. “i miss you baby. fuck…so sensitive,” he hisses, forming a fist around his shaft, rough palms from his quirk brushing up against the pretty blue veins that wrap all the way around him. you’ll never get over how beautiful his cock is, how beautiful your fiancé is with his skin flushed and shining with a thin layer of sweat— chest heaving rhythmically as whimpering as he touches himself to you and spits in his palm to mimick the wetness of your pussy around him. bakugou’s cockhead, a bright shade of red, bleeds white against his knuckles while he matches the pace of his hand to your fingers sliding sloppily in and out of your fluttering hole. “rub in circles baby, don’t forget. jus’ like that… jus’ like how i do it.”

pressing a thumb into your clit and dragging the hood of it back, you squeal— seizing up and gushing all at once. “ooh, shit ‘suki!” you stutter, bucking your hips up eagerly to meet your hand— imaging your fiancé stuffing you full instead of your tiny fingers. “w-what do you miss about me, kats? t-tell me baby.”

“miss…y-your…fuck! you’re so pretty. mm’god, baby…” it’s impossible to focus on anything but your pussy on display for him— your movements syncing up with each other, touching yourselves as if you’re fucking one another. the glisten of your nectar around your fingers only serves to turn the explosive pro hero on even more and he only hopes the view of his precum dripping down his balls and his knuckles has the same effect on you.

“don’t be shy kats, focus.”

“miss your skin, s’so soft. your lips on mine. my tongue in your fuckin’ mouth… fuck, your pussy wrapped around me, squeezin’ down on me just like that…” bakugou grunts out over the sound of his fist slapping wetly up and down his dick. “cant wait to get home ‘n sink into your tight little hole, fuck you like your fingers can’t.”

“i should make you wait until after the wedding day. s’what you get for leaving me.” you tease him despite your pout, saliva pooling on your tongue as you just about manage to brush at your g-spot, something katsuki wouldn’t have struggled with if he were here making a mess of you in person. you suppose fucking him over face time would have to do for now.

“no baby, please. please don’t make me wait, ‘m gonna fuck you so good i promise.” katsuki begs and you believe him, how can you not? with his cheeks all red and face twisted in desperation… perhaps agony from not being able to grind his girth into the deepest parts of you— sufficing with his soiled fist and the memory of you instead. he’s only been away from you a week, but it feels like eternity. “if you wanted to wait until after marriage i’d have put a ring on your finger the day we first fuckin’ met.” he somehow quips, his voice falling just underneath the sound of skin on skin as he pumps himself towards orgasm— matching how you get yourself there with rapid circles on your pleasure nub and fingertips pressed against your g-spot.

if he were there, you would have cum by now— squealing on his cock like the little princess that you are, your juices running down your inner thighs even more than they are now. the thought of you ruined like that that nearly kills the blonde.

“are you close katsuki? don’t hold back for me.” the way you say his name and pull him back into the present has bakugou’s hips lifting from the bed in his hotel room, the course pad of his thumb swiping eagerly over his burning cockhead as he rubs his seedy arousal into his sensitive slit. his fist around his cock mimics the way you would squeeze down on him every time you curl your fingers in your pretty cunt.

the pro hero shakes his head, the tips of his ears flushing red too even though it’s grainy from over the face time call. “d-don’t wanna cum without you.”

it’s not that he doesn’t, it’s that he can’t. katsuki can’t cum unless he’s got his eyes on you, watching every detail and shift of your facial expressions when you’re close— when you’re mewling out for him and crying for his cock just like you are now… except on the other side of the world. he can’t cum unless your body tells him that you’re close too.

“i’m there baby. let go for me.” it’s your turn to make a promise to him, throwing your head back into the pillows so you can take in bakugou’s scent— picture him rutting into you from above, droplets of sweat running down his forehead as he pounds you into oblivion. the ecstasy running through your system threatens to make the dam burst, the symphony of your moans harmonising over the call only dragging you closer and closer to your highs. “c-cum with me. please.”

neither of you can hold back, bakugou pumping his dick until it hurts— a raw and needy cry ripping through his sticky chest as his thick load shoots up it, painting him white with his own seed and contrasting against his sun kissed skin. you’re no better, gushing so hard that you force your fingers out of you, clear streams of your juices spewing out of your cunt and soiling the sheets below.

for a moment, the pair of you lay on call with each other, panting in unison as you come back down to earth. katsuki cleans himself up with a tissue and you lean down to grab your phone, wanting to see him better.

“i really do…fuck… made me cum so much. i really do miss you baby.” he’s the first to speak, his voice gravely from all the cursing and groaning he had been doing but his facial expression soft and satisfied.

“i know. i can’t wait for you to come home, have fun for me okay? i’ll be waiting.” you whisper to him, smitten and longing— mentally counting down the days until he’s back from his bachelors vacation. “no more tantrums. behave.”

“m’kay sweetness,” bakugou laughs at your warning, rolling his eyes albeit fondly. “drink some water ‘n eat somethin’ good yeah? you always forget if you fall asleep right after you cum.”

“i will. you eat somethin’ too. i love you.”

“love you more.”

it takes a while before either of you hang up— clinging onto the few moments you have with one another before one of the boys come looking for katsuki and whisk him away.

you manage with shaky legs to get up and pee before fixing yourself some cup ramen so you can head to bed for the night on a full stomach ( as your fiancé had wished ). when you wake up the next day you have several happy texts from kaminari and an attachment, so you rub your eyes to clear your bleary vision to check them.

kaminari dunce face - 13:52PM: thank you for whatever the fuck you did to kacchan tonight.

kaminari dunce face - 13:53PM: he’s literally never been nicer.

kaminari dunce face - 13:55PM: (attachment.mp4)

downloading the video, you can’t help but grin— adding the video of katsuki drunkardly hugging deku and singing his love for you in the middle of the resort at night directly to your camera roll.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha thirst #bakugo thirst #bakugou fic #bakugou imagines #katsuki bakugou smut #bnha x you #bnha smut #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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roosterforme · 6 months

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Adult Education Part 4 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake gets some more insider information about Jessica, and he decides to let her know exactly what he intends to do next. The heated moments in her office are about to boil over, until Jessica is hit with the feeling that Jake is starting to run cold.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, eventually 18+

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"Did you get her number yet?" Bradley asked in the locker room on Monday morning while Jake was changing into his flight suit.

Very begrudgingly, he said, "No, I did not." It had been almost a full day since he emailed Jessica, and all he got in return was radio silence.

"Damn... I've been messing around with my wife all over campus. I got a blowjob in a lecture hall last week, and you still don't have a phone number?"

Jake just rolled his eyes and said, "I'm hoping I'll see her again tomorrow."

"Sugar was right," Bradley said, shaking his head as he zipped up his own flight suit. "You're losing your touch."

Jake slammed his locker closed. "It's not like she's some random tag chaser from the Hard Deck, okay?" he growled. "She's smart, and she's gorgeous. And I doubt she's handing her phone number out to anyone who looks at her. I'm not in a rush for once."

Bradley smirked and held his fist out. Jake very slowly hit it with his own fist. "What is this?" he asked cautiously after the fist bump. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Sugar said she'd eat lunch with Dr. Reed today and try to see what's up, but only if I could determine if you really liked her and weren't just trying to fuck her."

Jake stopped the smart response on his lips before the words came out. He still wasn't sure what kind of rumors were circulating about Jessica, and he definitely didn't want to add to anything by coming on too strong or being an ass. Part of him was convinced he needed Bradshaw's wife on his side to make it to the next step. So he said, "I've been spending the vast majority of my time thinking about cooking dinner for her while she reads to me from a scientific journal. Not sure if that's the kind of information your wife is looking for."

Bradley looked shocked and his face paled. "Huh. If she has a titty tattoo, you're screwed, man. Completely fucked." But he was reaching for his phone now. "I'll text my wife and let her know."

"Thanks," Jake grunted, checking his email app one last time before closing his locker and heading out toward the hangar. As he looked over his jet and filled in the safety protocol sheets, he kept thinking about her. She would be fascinated by this, seeing all of her mathematical knowledge playing out. He could take her up in the air with him, and she would be delighted the entire time.

Jake would have already taken Jessica out to dinner last night and dropped her off at home with a kiss. But this wasn't playing out the way he imagined it would. If Bradshaw's wife didn't help clue him in on what was going on here, then tomorrow would be his last attempt. He was on the verge of getting his hopes up. He couldn't even look at the patch on his flight suit the same way anymore. Not after her elegant fingers had skimmed along the golden threads.

But he pushed everything from his mind the best he could, and he got up in the air for the training exercises with Phoenix and Bob. But when he got back to his locker around five o'clock, he saw an email from Jessica that had been sent eight hours ago. Jake nearly dropped his phone as he tried to open the app.

Dear Lieutenant Seresin,

I'm so pleased to hear that you enjoy the journals as much as I do. If you keep reading them from front cover to back cover, I'm sure you'll be rewarded with the knowledge that you're craving. I might even have to pull some of my own published articles for you to read... if you think you can handle that sort of thing.

My equations are not for the faint of heart. Bring your pencil on Tuesday but leave your skateboard. I wouldn't want to have to lecture you about skating in the academic buildings. We could be there all night.

Perpetually looking forward to my office hours now,

Dr. Jessica Reed, Ph.D

P.S.- If you liked that photo and are well behaved, maybe you can have more. Ones that aren't listed on the university website.

Jake had to juggle his phone again as he read the post script. "Holy shit," he drawled, his eyes skimming along the words a second and third time. He was in. He had to be? This was sent before any sort of lunch could have happened between his favorite physics professor and his favorite math professor. "Shit, shit, shit. Bradshaw!" Jake ran back past the lockers and toward the showers. "Bradshaw!"

"What?" Bradley called back from one of the stalls where steam was rising from the top, voice echoing loudly.

"What did your wife say?" Jake asked impatiently.

"Jesus, Hangman. I don't know. I haven't checked my phone yet."

Jake sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "Well, how much longer are you going to be?"

"For fuck's sake! I don't know! I'm literally taking a shower. Is nothing sacred?"

Jake muttered, "I really need your wife's phone number," as he wandered back to sit on the bench in front of his locker and read the email again.

A few minutes later, a glaring Bradley strolled back over in his towel, reached into his locker and tapped his passcode into his phone. "Here, knock yourself out," he said, handing it to Jake. But then he snatched it back quickly with a look of panic. "Actually, let me just scroll and make sure she didn't send a dirty picture," he mumbled, swiping along his phone screen. "Nah, you're good."

Jake quickly found the one long message at the bottom of the thread and started to read it.

Thanks for packing my lunch today. I feel ridiculously spoiled when everyone else has to eat a sad looking microwave meal or grab something from that horrifying food truck next to Chippy's. You're the absolute best.

Jake glanced to where Bradshaw was getting dressed and fixing his hair. You might not immediately know it by interacting with him, but the man clearly loved his wife.

I shared some of the veggies and hummus with Jessica. I still don't know what went down with her and Brian Conley, but it's creepy the way he looks at her. But anyway, lunch was nice. I think I made a new friend? Because she's not annoying or old or a man, and she doesn't try to talk over everyone else. Oh, and she's definitely into Jake. She started to fidget and adjust her glasses when I told her that I saw him at the Hard Deck over the weekend and he asked about her. She's cute as a button. Tell Jake to just Keep Truckin' (that's a Grateful Dead reference for you, Beer Boy. Reward me later.)

"Truly, the two of you are disgusting," Jake said as he reached for his own phone. "I'm saving your wife's phone number." Once he had it saved in his contacts, he gave Bradley his phone back. "Thanks."

"Sure," Bradley grunted. "She get you what you were hoping for?"

Jake just smirked. "Dr. Tits never lets me down."

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Jessica tried not to let her hesitancy show when she was invited to have lunch with the only female with tenure in the math department. This wasn't even the first time recently that she thought she might be able to make a friend at work, but she didn't want to get ahead of herself. One small step at a time with these things. She still wasn't exactly sure who to trust around here.

But when the other woman knocked on her door promptly at noon, Jessica opened her door and smiled. "Do you want to eat in here?" she asked, noting the lunchbox the other woman was holding which had a funky tie dye print.

"Sure, AP," she replied with a smile. Jessica's heart swelled with happiness; they actually had nicknames for each other. Advanced Physics and Advanced Calculus.

"Have a seat, AC," she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her desk. Jessica knew her husband worked with Jake, and she really wanted to ask about him. But out of extreme caution, she kept her mouth shut as far as he was concerned. The last thing Jessica wanted was to make this kind female who was close to her own age and who seemed really cool thinking she was only interested in talking about the aviator she was crushing on. Instead she said, "So, tell me more about the mythical math department where they give tenure to women."

Then as she opened up the meal that her husband packed, she regaled Jessica with tales of fair treatment and an office with a view. And then she offered to share her lunch as Jessica ate a hot pocket. And while Jessica was munching on a carrot stick, the other woman said, "I was at this naval hangout over the weekend with my husband, and Jake was there. He asked me about you."

Jessica sat up straighter in her seat. There was still no response to her email from this morning, but she doubted Jake was allowed to just play around on his phone while operating a seventy million dollar aircraft. She slid her glasses a little further up her nose and said, "In an effort not to sound completely boy crazy... what did he want to know?"

She snorted. "Everything."

And that's when Jessica started to panic. Everyone in this part of San Diego State University had surely heard some rumors about her and Brian. She was mortified that this woman might have told Jake the truth. If she even knew the truth. But one of the lies or rumors would be just as bad. She wanted to hide under her desk now, and all she could manage to say was, "Oh."

But she just kept going. "Between you and me, Jake's going a little crazy that you apparently won't let him have your phone number? Which I think is absolutely what that man needs. So keep up the good work. He's too handsome, and he knows it. I don't think he's ever encountered someone like you before."

Jessica looked at her with wide eyes. "Be honest with me. How soon is he going to lose interest in a nerd who collects journals and does math problems for fun?"

But she just shook her head. "Lose interest? Probably never. Get frustrated and think you're not interested? Hmmm. I'm not sure."

But Jessica could feel her neck growing warm. She'd been pretty forward in her email to him earlier, and she knew exactly what she wanted to do. "Nobody could lose interest in Jake," she murmured, helping herself to some more carrot sticks.

"Listen," the other woman said. "This is just from Advanced Calculus to Advanced Physics, okay?"

"Okay," Jessica replied with a laugh.

"Jake could probably get any woman he wanted, but he hasn't had much exposure to anyone except hardass military officers and tag chasers. I'd say you fall somewhere in between. Just be careful, okay?"

Jessica nodded in agreement, unsure exactly what she was agreeing to. But she found she liked the idea of falling somewhere in between for Jake. In her mind, it made her more unique than she actually felt.

On Tuesday morning, she dressed in a matching set of lingerie just like she always did. But she chose a deep wine red, because it made her feel bold. And if Jake followed through with what he said, then he would be stopping by her office later today. Bold might be a necessity.

She was running her finger along the strap of her bra before tucking it into her lightweight sweater as her computer booted up. She had her coffee on her desk, but she didn't need it. She was so excited and filled with adrenaline, she felt like she might bounce around her small office. Then she gasped; there was a new email from jake.seresin waiting for her.

Dear Dr. Reed,

I'm hoping you'll have some time for me later today. I'm also thinking that one of these visits, my luck will run out. Will somebody else skateboard off with your heart? Will I have to compete with a whole line of aviators with detailed physics notes and sharpened pencils?

I won't be able to stand the heartache, so I wanted to let you know now that I'm going to ask you out tonight. I'm going to try to persuade you to join me at Chippy's for more beer and peanuts on Wednesday. I want you to have some time to think about your answer. Because if that's not something you want to do, then I'm going to need you to let me down very gently, Jessica.

See you when I report to your office hours,

Jake

P.S.- If there actually is a whole line of aviators, I wouldn't be surprised in the least.

Oh, he was so smooth. And funny. And he was giving her the whole day to decide what she wanted to do. Jessica squeaked and smiled behind her coffee cup. He must have sensed her hesitance, but he didn't seem annoyed. Rather he seemed like going to Chippy's with her again would make him really happy. Chippy's of all places. Her of all women.

With a few minutes until her schedule really started for the day, she stood and knelt in her dress pants in front of her bookshelf. There was a specific journal with a specific article that would be just perfect for what she had planned. Once she located it, she tucked it away in her top drawer, and then she went back for a few more journals that she could send home with Jake.

And as far as Chippy's went, she knew exactly what she wanted to do. Last time they were there, she'd had the best time talking to him, and they hadn't even gotten into many personal topics. Of course she did run away terrified that he was trying to two time his wife or girlfriend. But this time around would be different.

She snatched up her folders and lecture notes and locked her door behind her, knowing she would have to contend with Luca and all of her other students before she would get to see Jake at all. So she buckled down and got to work. Three lectures, one lab class and one recitation later, she wandered back up to her office, absolutely starving and exhausted.

The sad salad she pulled out of her mini fridge and the thermos of lemonade would just have to do. It was already after three o'clock, and she had exams to grade. The fact that she had the worst schedule out of everyone in the physics department was not lost on her as she forced her salad down and dreamed about something homemade. It was ridiculous how jealous she was of the packed lunches that her calculus counterpart always had.

Two huge stacks of exams later, Jessica made note that she had five students who were failing their classes. Gently, she removed her glasses and let her forehead come to rest on her desk. Her office hours were about to begin, and as excited as she had been to see Jake earlier this morning, she kind of wished more of her students would visit her. It was early in the term, and they had time to turn their grades around, but still.

At 5:30 she propped her door open and waited. As long as Dr. Leeland didn't stop by today, she'd call it a win. She gave extra practice problems to Nia, and she helped Benji correct his mistakes on his lab calculations, and then she waited. After she checked the time on her computer, she turned off the monitor. It was 6:45. She'd been on campus since 8:00. She was hungry again. And she was starting to feel like an idiot.

"Reedy."

Her eyes met his pretty green ones instantly. Perched in her open doorway with his notebook in hand, he looked like everything she wanted. Jeans and a black tee replaced his uniform today, and he was just stupidly handsome.

"Jake."

He nodded toward the hallway, and she saw a sharpened pencil tucked behind his ear. "Would you like me to close the door?"

"Please," she replied softly as she stood behind her desk. When the door clicked into place, she imagined herself locking it and doing the dirtiest things in her office with Jake Seresin. These same thoughts circulated her brain as she tried to fall asleep every night now. She'd have him pushed up against the wall with her lips on his neck. Or she'd push him down onto her chair and straddle one thick thigh.

She was jarred back to reality as he made his way over to her desk with a soft smile. "I tried my hand at some of these equations," he drawled. "Can't quite figure them out. Don't seem to have the right numbers."

Then he reached up, and Jessica watched him take that pencil into his hand. "Would you like me to show you how it's done?" she asked with a smirk.

"Oh, you know I would." Hungry eyes roamed over her face as he handed the pencil over to her. His fingers felt rough when they brushed hers, and she had to fight to keep her mind focused on the math in his notebook.

"Have a seat," she told him, and she knew the fun was just about to begin.

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

Jake eased himself down into the chair opposite Jessica's desk, and he looked up at her where she stood. She had his pencil in her hand, and as she reached into her drawer to retrieve her calculator, he watched her pretty, red sweater slide a few inches down her shoulder revealing her bra strap. It was a darker shade of red. It looked beautiful against her skin.

"You're using the wrong formulas," she said with a smirk. "You can't expect the physics problems to respond to the wrong math."

"Show me how it's done, Jessica."

She bit her lip, and when she bent at the waist, Jake couldn't fathom how her students were able to pay attention in her classes. Her body was absolutely sinful looking. And when the tip of his pencil pressed against the notebook page, Jake's eyes drifted to the front of her sweater. That bra was even prettier than he imagined. His cock pulsed in his snug jeans. Lace. Just lace and her gorgeous cleavage.

He grunted and her eyes met his. Was she doing this on purpose? Did she know how good she looked to him right now? Did she have any fucking clue how crazy she was making him? No. He could tell she had no idea how much she was messing him up.

Then she wrote out the set of formulas that he would need to use before spinning the notebook around so it was facing him. "Give it a try," she said, setting her calculator and his pencil next to it.

As Jake leaned closer to her desk to take a look, Jessica walked around to the other side. She perched herself next to where he was working, his fingers just inches away from her thigh as he desperately tried to remember the difference between thrust and propulsion.

"Are you distracting me on purpose?" he asked without looking away from the notebook.

"Do you find me distracting?" she asked softly, and Jake chuckled.

"You know I do," he said before dropping the pencil and standing. He towered over her as he gingerly placed his hands on the desk, bracketing her in. "You know I do, Jessica."

His face was close to hers, but she didn't shy away at all. The devilish grin that found its way to her lips was begging to be kissed away until she was moaning his name. But he didn't move an inch.

"I thought you had something you wanted to ask me tonight," she whispered as one high heeled foot met his calf, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.

He jerked his chin up an inch. "Baby, if you won't go to Chippy's with me tomorrow, it's gonna break my heart."

As soon as her teeth pressed into her plush lip, Jake could see that grin return to her face. When he moved a fraction of an inch closer, she gasped and said, "I couldn't possibly go out with a guy who can't get his thrust equation down correctly."

Jake smirked and pushed off from the desk, leaving her and returning to his vacant seat. Then he read through the formulas she had written for him. And then he worked out his constants and entered his variables. When he punched everything into her calculator, he came up with an answer. And then he double checked it. Because the last thing he wanted Jessica to be concerned about was him knowing all about the power of thrust.

When he handed her the notebook, he eased himself further back into the seat. She adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers and then started to skim the page to check his math. But that pretty smile was still present, and soon she closed the notebook and then set it down next to her thigh.

She met his gaze and held it. "I would love to go back to Chippy's with you."

That meant his math was correct. It probably also meant that she made her mind up earlier today but just wanted to toy with him. And he could become fucking addicted to that.

"Just tell me what time, and I'll meet you there," he promised, heart thudding in anticipation of another evening spent with her.

"Seven?" she asked softly.

"It's a date."

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

Jessica stopped home between her last class and the beginning of her date at Chippy's. Every time she thought about it, she started laughing. A college dive bar was hardly the most romantic place in San Diego to grab a drink, but somehow it was exactly perfect. She ate dinner quickly and then changed out of her pantsuit.

The mirror in her walk in closet caught her attention, and she spun to inspect her body in the royal blue bra and thong. Not bad. But she wasn't sure how to dress. And she wasn't planning on letting Jake see this pretty set. Yet. They hadn't even kissed. He still didn't have her phone number. But that made her giggle as she tried on a few different pairs of jeans before settling on ones that were high waisted and hugged her body.

She chose a cute blouse and then slid on a pair of high heels before heading back to campus. As she parked near the bar, she checked her makeup one last time in the mirror on the back of the sun visor. She looked good. Better than good. Then she grabbed the journals and her purse from the front seat and headed inside.

The peanut shells that littered the floor stuck to the bottoms of her shoes, and the crowd of students was a little loud. But she liked it here anyway. When Chippy himself looked up from the bar, he smiled at her.

"Reedy," he said with a wave. "A beer?"

But she shook her head. "Not yet. I'm meeting someone. He should be here soon."

His brow scrunched up. "That same one? In the uniform?" When she nodded, he said, "Careful with those ones, Reedy."

And his words hung in the air as she found an empty high top with two stools. For the past year she'd kept to herself. Kept her nose clean. Stayed away from not only the bad guys, but really guys altogether. Was she making a mistake here?

She checked the time on her phone. 7:04. Then she skimmed the journal she brought with her which contained her very own recent publication. Then she checked her phone again. 7:17. Chippy dropped off a bowl of peanuts, and she cracked one open as her brain started to tell her that she was being stood up. Because suddenly it was after 7:30 and there was no sign of Jake.

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

Jake, what the hell, man? You're only going to get one chance here. Loving the Beer Boy and Sugar moments. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

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mwahkazu · 1 month

Text

୨୧ synopsis: — you wake up to find your phone flooded with messages from your close friends, all of whom are seeking to the spend the day hanging out with you! how and who will you decided to spend your day with?

꒰ characters: ꒱ wanderer, kazuha, heizou, venti, xiao

꒰ tags: ꒱ gn reader, intended as platonic relationships but is free for interpretation, wanderer is referred to as kunikusuzhi (kuni), college setting

꒰ note: ꒱ a stealing the spotlight special to celebrate this blog reaching 100 followers! as usual i have tagged those from the series to this post encase they’d be interested. thank you all sm again for the endless support <33

golden threads of sunlight filter through the curtains, painting your stilled room in soft orange and yellow hues. a mellow summer breeze sneaks its way in through the small opening of your window, one you had mistakenly left open from the previous night’s endeavors of sneaking out onto the fire escape to get some fresh air after hours of being cooped up in your room studying.

the distant sound of traffic noise and passing metro trains reaches your ears, making you stir in bed as you gradually start to wake up from your deep sleep. at first, you’re thinking it’s still too early for you to be waking up. after all, your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, so surely you’ve still got another hour or so of sleep left.

but just as you let your head fall back down into your pillow, that cursed sound of your phone’s alarm blares all throughout your room within the next second. so much for getting more sleep.

restraining yourself from throwing your phone against the wall, you shut off the alarm and begrudgingly pull yourself out of bed. once your feet meet the floor, something soft begins to tickle at your skin, the sudden sensation enough to startle you awake as you look down to see the source.

“rosseland?” the cat simply meows in response, affectionately rubbing itself against your legs and emitting soft purrs. a small smile finds its way to your lips. “decided to stick around for a bit longer? well, let’s hope whoever your owner is isn’t freaking out right now…”

you crouch down to give the small feline a few gentle pets on it’s back before beckoning him to follow you into the kitchen for breakfast.

most of the time you find yourself skipping breakfast in the mornings, usually due to the fact that you end up sleeping past your alarm and thus end up in a hurry out the door in order to get to your classes on time. today seemed to be your lucky day though, as not only did you actually manage to get out of bed at the appropriate time, but you got to indulge in a full and gratifying breakfast—cereal.

after serving rosseland a small portion of cat food into his bowl, you walk over to the fridge, grabbing the carton of milk out to pour into your own bowl of cereal. just as you do so, your phone buzzes on the countertop behind you. probably just a random notification from an app you don’t even use.

after a minute, it buzzes again. and again. and again? archons, what in the world is going on?

heaving out a sigh, you walk over to grab your phone. on the homescreen, you’re greeted with several messages, all from five different individuals whom you know all too well. how strange that they all decided to text you separately. there is a group chat with everyone in it so why not text through there?

feeling too tired to question such behavior, you decided to just brush it off and begin going through each person’s messages one by one.

━ ꒰ MSG FROM: KUNIKUZUSHI ꒱

━ ꒰ MSG FROM: HEIZOU ꒱

━ ꒰ MSG FROM: KAZUHA ꒱

━ ꒰ MSG FROM: XIAO ꒱

━ ꒰ MSG FROM: VENTI ꒱

welcome to the 100 followers special for stealing the spotlight !

this is no ordinary event, but one that i have exclusively planned to center around the characters from my smau series that has and continues to receive constant support from all you lovely readers~

therefore, i figured it was only fair to make a special event in which you the audience can have some power in how the story goes. engagement in this event is quite simple.

after reviewing the text messages you received from each character, your job is to accept one character’s offer and then name an activity you’d want to do for the day. once you’ve made your decision, you will submit your choices to my inbox where i will then write out a little headcanon piece for you based on your choice and how i think that will play out :3

IMPORTANT: this event only has 5 slots available, one for each character. there is no guarantee that i will pick your submission as due to time constraints, i can only stick to doing five. once i’ve made the selection, i will compile all five pieces into one post. on there i will be tagging the user that requested, announcing the activity they wrote for said character and then the written headcanons i came up with.

SUBMISSION DEADLINE: march 26 2023

taglist (open 29/30) ; ━ this taglist is dedicated to my smau only! if you are interested in being added to the taglist for the smau, you can either comment on the masterlist post or send to my inbox!

@peaceindreams , @miwafei , @whipped-for-fictionals , @blissfullyapillow , @yotraumainthebuilding , @reixtsu , @almond-t0fu , @quacking-simp , @kika-a , @kookiibun , @silentmissinghallucination , @sleepyeri , @xiaossocksniffer , @14-paradise , @kaitfae , @cupid-spams , @semi-orangeapple , @scarletttcroww , @sl-vega , @ethiy , @swivy123 , @ceneid , @kunikuzushis-darling , @beasalmeh , @enjisthings , @lloovvv , @sn1perz , @dreamyysouls , @glxssmemories

#stealing the spotlight! ✩#genshin impact #genshin #genshin smau #genshin x reader #wanderer #kaedehara kazuha #shikanoin heizou #xiao #venti #kazuha x reader #wanderer x reader #heizou x reader #xiao x reader #venti x reader

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sserpente · 4 months

Text

A/N: Can you believe that I couldn’t bring myself to watch the Loki Season 2 Finale more than once yet? Maybe this little piece of fluff will help us heal a little more!

Words: 837 Warnings: HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 2 FINALE, fluff

Christmas felt off. Yule felt off. You’d set up your tree, you’d decorated, you’d bought all the Christmassy food including half a dozen bottles of mulled wine and you were listening to Christmas music non-stop. None of it worked. Something was missing. Someone.

The promise that had hung from Loki’s lips remained heavy and it had clawed its way deep into your heart. You’d talked about it one night, resting after hunting down an actor-turned-TVA-agent. About your future together. About where you would go and what you would do once all of this was over.

That was before everything fell apart. Before Loki realised that the only way… no, stop.

Right now, you were baking Christmas biscuits—you were forcing yourself to. Christmas music was blasting from your phone in the background, the warm air in the kitchen smelled like vanilla and gingerbread and outside, it was snowing, making you appreciate the warm and flickering candlelight coming from the wreath on the dining table even more. You were supposed to be happy, you ought to be joyful, no? He had sacrificed everything, sacrificed himself in order to protect… to protect… it was all so complex it went above your head. All you knew was that thanks to the cheeky God of Mischief, the multiverse was free.

Thanks to him, you were alive and well, thanks to him you could live a life you’d always dreamed of having. And yet, it meant nothing without him. And yet, all you wanted to do was to break down, ram your fists into the ground over and over, and wail for the loss of your one true love.

Yule, Christmas, whatever you wanted to call it, wasn’t the same if the one person you wanted to spend it with was gone. But you knew he could see you. You knew he was watching over you. And it wouldn’t be fair to let him see your grief after what he’d done for you all.

So you swallowed it down, again and again, and, humming along to the Christmas songs, focused all of your attention on the cookie batter. It was his favourite kind. The only kind you’d be baking this year.

“Hmm… this does smell delicious. I do hope they’re all for me…”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you flipped around, flour landing everywhere around you in the process like a smoke cloud.

For a moment, you simply stared at him, lips parted, eyes filling with tears. “Please… please tell me you’re real.”

Loki smirked, extending his arms—a smug invitation for you to hug him. “Why don’t you find out, love?”

It was all he needed to say. You all but flung yourself into his arms, face pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. No illusion. No duplicate. Him. He was actually here.

“Loki… oh gods, Loki…” The tears came before you could stop them. Worsening your sight and making you sob, you hugged him so tightly you feared to cut off his air supply. “But… how… how? How is this possible?”

“It appears that not only have I become the new temporal loom but… my powers have been feeding on the multiverse and vice versa. I became stronger and stronger until I realised I would be able to move around within it freely. I tested it, carefully, for what felt like an eternity until I was sure the threads of all the realities wouldn’t snap on me.”

“So… you’re saying the entirety of the multiverse is still flowing through you right now?”

“It is indeed. You just can’t see it.”

“You’re not going to… explode on me, right?”

“And turn into golden glitter?” He lifted your chin up, smirking and you chuckled but when his smile faltered, yours did too.

“W-what?”

“I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “For what?”

“For leaving you. For being the reason you cry yourself to sleep at night.”

Once again, your heart dropped to your stomach. “You… know?”

“Of course I do.”

“I was trying to hide it so hard…” Loki wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, a gentle smile tugging on his thin lips.

“I know,” he said, pressing you close. “I came here as soon as I could to be sure it would be safe to do so.”

“You… haven’t seen anyone else yet? What about Mobius?”

“Mobius is with his family, setting up a Christmas tree with Jetski decorations.”

You giggled.

“No. You were the most important. And I want to spend Christmas with you just like I promised I would. And I see you have already made sure to set the mood.” He looked around, noting all the decorations around you.

Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “There’s no Christmas mood without you.”

Loki pulled you back toward the door threshold leading to the living room. You looked up at him, gaze wandering up to where you’d put up the mistletoe. And as far as kisses went… this one was the most magical and wondrous yet.

A/N: I'm really bad at reposting my Insta and Clock App stuff on here too and it's a New Year's resolution to change that next year so that you guys will be up to date as well but basically... I've published too books in my absence in case you were wondering why it got so quiet, lol. Aaaand I'm currently working on an English (my first English series!) paranormal Dark Romance series with demons and witches so if that's something you're interested in, do follow along, yes? ♥♥♥ We're all mad here! :D

PS: Loki becoming the wireless battery of the multiverse is my headcanon, thank you.

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shhh-secret-time · 2 months

Note

is me again hiiiii:•)

you don't have to do it right away, but the sp writing fandom is pretty busy with irl stuff from what i can see and i'm literally dying of withdrawals from no lovesick-idiot mccormick like its such a vital need for me to be alive. suave kenny is great, but STUPIDLY red-faced kenny fumbling a corny pickup line? [SLAMMING THE TABLE]

if you have a crumb of anything at all with kenny being a dummy when it comes to his lover, spare please if you want actually i'm not forcing give it now it's ok 🤲

ALSO HOPE UR DOING OK!!! :•D

- 🪼

Well hi you! I'm glad to see you back! I hope you guys don't mind that I combo'd yours together again! I'm so glad more of you are asking for Kenny! I couldn't resist the "Can't take a compliment to save his life" Kenny. Because same.

Warning: NSFW, Strong Language, Bad Flirting, Praise Kink

Pairing: Kenny x GN!Reader

The way his hair lays across your lap makes it look like little strands of golden thread. Such a peaceful look on his face would make any man jealous. That little thought tickled the front of his brain, how lucky of man he was.

Kenny opens his eyes just a bit, heavy lids beckoning him to close them again. It takes all his willpower not to listen to the sleepy siren song. But how could he even consider that when you look so beautiful.

He takes in every little detail he can. Watching your eyes move across your phone, it's hypnotic. You're not paying attention to him and sometimes he likes it that way. Getting to admire you in peace like this, without you trying to hide the things he loves so much about you.

But sure enough, when you feel his loving eyes on you, you stop and raise a brow down at him. He can't stop the lazy smirk that tugs at his lips. It makes you smile in return and Kenny feels his heart pounding in his chest.

"How's the most beautiful person in South Park feeling?" Kenny purrs up at you.

His flirting makes you chuckle and run your fingers through his hair. It only encourages him, you know that. Just a bit of attention from you and he becomes an addict wanting more and more. All you did was smile and laugh, and he's already pushing for more of that sweet sound.

"I don't know, how is he feeling?" You hum softly as you push the shaggy bangs out of his face.

You have to stifle back another laugh when you see his eyes widen. Even more so when a small blush begins creeping up his neck. He'd be lying to himself and any God that was listening if he thought you were going to shoot back like that. His heart wasn't ready, not by the way it slammed against his chest.

"You're a big flirt Angel. C'mon now, don't upstage me at my own art." He says trying to recover from the little counterattack.

"But Kenneth," Oh the way you say his full name. Even in that playful tone, it would make him stand at attention. "You're the real piece of art here."

And oh, the way your fingers trace down his jawline, like you're trying to memorize all his features on touch alone. Kenny's breath hitches in his throat, hoping that you don't feel the way his face heats up under your touch.

"S-Sweetheart. You're laying in on a little thick."

"Am I? I don’t think I tell you enough."

How can you sit there and tell him something like that so easily? The shade of your eyes holding such a deep passion. You look at him as if he's the most precious thing in the world, like the most devoted would their God.

"I don't think you hear it enough. I love you, Kenny. I love you so very much." You pause for only a moment, "From the way you smile at me with that earnest smile. I know you're trying so hard…even when you're tired, you're smiling and it's so beautiful."

Fuck.

"Oh, and the way you take care of those around you. I could go on for hours about how I adore you for that. You always make sure other people are happy before yourself. That heart of yours is gorgeous."

Fucking shit.

"And the way your eyes light up when you get excited. Oh, it's so cute! Pretty lavender eyes, I get envious when they're not on me. How could I not admire you as art?"

But they are! Always! He wants to tell you that, but the way you speak so softly. The way your voice drops to a whisper, tracing his lips as you speak. He can do nothing but open his mouth in awe. The blush on his face deepens and crawls up to the tip of his ears.

Just as he throws his arm over his eyes, burying his flustered face into the crook of his elbow, you let out a laugh. The sound rings out like a bell, a sound he wants to remember for the rest of his life.

"Kenny, don't hide from me baby~. Please." You know his weakness, a whisper against the shell of his ear in that pleading tone.

Kenny groans and slowly moves his arm away. He's barley able to look you in the eye. The way he tugs his bottom lip in between his teeth tells you everything you need. His face is such a deep red you think his skin is going to be permanently stained by that cherry color. In between nibbling on his bottom lip, the soft pink flesh quivers into a wavy line. From the way his fingers tap against his knuckles you know he wants to pull his hood up and pull the strings to hide his face.

So, you take them in yours and bring them up to your lips, pressing a kiss onto his bruised looking knuckles. You trail your kisses from his knuckles to the palm of his hand where you nuzzle into the warmth.

"And how could I forget these hands. These hands that protect people… these hands that hold me when I need it. The way you touch me with them makes me feel so loved." You hide the little smirk in his palm, watching the way he tries to hide into the side of your thighs.

"I-…I do love you. I love you so much." You think you hear him moan but it's hard to tell from the way his muffled voice barely reaches your ears.

If it was there’s no way you were going to let him hide them from you. You let his hands face go and cup the side of his face. Just like before you bend over and guide his face back towards yours. Your lips brush against his not quite kissing them yet, you want to see if his mind is still working.

Luckily, it still is. Once he registers that you've got your beautiful soft lips on his, he presses into them with a shaky breath. It feels like he can't catch his breath the way the kiss pulls the air out of his lungs. The rhythmic pounding of his heart picking up speed made its way up into his ears. Every time you pulled away traces of mint would make his mind hazy, only for your lips to anchor him right back in.

Kenny's kissed you before, plenty of times he'd ambush you and pepper your faces with an assault of his love. He’s snuck up behind you and dipped you in his arms, placing a passionate kiss before you could even register what was going on. A few times it earned him a smack on the shoulder or a punch but every time it was worth it.

Kenny's kissed you with want and need behind every little press of his lips. Everyone who knew him knew he was a physical lover, expressing admiration in touch. What better way to tell you how badly he craves you than with a long-drawn-out kiss?

Kenny kisses you with a toothache, how sweet you taste moving your lips across his.

He reaches up. His fingers through the locks of your hair, intertwining fingers through them so carefully one would think you were made of glass. His faded lifeline brushes against your chin and settles right on your jaw line.

His lifeline.

You.

"I love you." Kenny repeats himself.

"I love you too." So do you. Sneaking in the affection, weaving it between the kisses that just won't stop.

You can't stop, not when you can feel all the love, he's giving you. Normally it's his tongue that sings your praises. Kenny McCormick gave you all he had and more. He was a well of devotion and how you wanted to just keep pulling from him.

But sometimes you needed to remind him to take his fill. He could take from you more than he does, that it was alright to be a greedy man. That he didn't need to give so much without getting a little in return.

"No other man makes me feel like you do. When my time comes, I'll always remember you Kenny and all that you do." You whisper with that beautiful smile coming across that gorgeous face.

God if you only knew what you were saying to him. If you knew how heavy your words sat in his heart. You'd remember him? Through everything you'd remember him.

Your words echoed in his mind, your voice sounds like you are worshiping him. It should be the other way around. It's always been the other way around. He was put on this earth to serve, and when the universe gave him you, he was rewarded. Every time he felt the cold embrace of death, he'd wake up the next morning with his head in your lap.

Warm and safe. Home.

Does a man like him deserve more? Does he deserve to have his heart beating so deeply from your praise. Did he deserve to feel the way your lids lower, staring at him like he was the low lamp light of heaven?

"Can I tell you something Ken?" You start to say, snapping him out of the spell you've put him under. "I think I'd love you no matter what universe we were in."

Did you know just how much he'd do for you? The things he'd do to get back home to you. That there wasn't a god or death in the universe that would keep you from him. What he would do to anything that tried to get in between the two of you?

That was it. This is what was going to take him out, but if it was you maybe he wouldn't care.

Luckily it doesn't, not this time anyway. Kenny pulls away from your touch, sitting up with his back facing you only for only a moment. He knows he hasn't said anything in a while, but his silence doesn't scare you. You know him better than that. You know him better than any person has even bothered to.

He twists his body until he's facing you with either leg resting by your hip. His knees propped up to cage your body with his. Hands find home on your waist, pulling you into their lap. Kenny tilts his head like he's going in for another kiss.

"I know we would. I'd find you and give you my heart every time." Confession never sounded so saintly, not by the way Kenny says it.

The blond doesn't even seem to mind that his face is still a deep crimson, that he's all but shaking while holding you. The man's a lovesick fool.

"And I'd give you mine. My Kenny."

"My Angel."

Lips connect again ending the praise and sweet names. Hands begin exploring bodies, mapping every inch of skin. Calloused fingers push up against your soft skin and Kenny can't help but damn himself for how rough they feel against you.

But you seem to love it. You seem to love everything he does. When the pads of his fingers trace up and down your spine it makes your arch your back, chest pushed into him. The barrier of clothes has never really been a problem for Kenny, but tonight they were the source of his frustration. He needed to feel you against him, to touch you and feel that warmth that makes his skin buzz.

When your shirt is peeled off you expect him to dive straight towards your flesh like he had done so many nights like this. Instead, his hand comes up to the back of your neck and he presses his forehead against yours. He calls you an angel again, reminding you that you’re his, before his eyes trail down your form.

Why couldn't he just put into words how you made him feel? Put it in a way that wasn't a stupid pick-up line or some filthy comment. Kenny wishes he could just tell you, tell you how you're the only thing that makes him feel like this. He wants to tell you all the things you're so quick to tell him. But he can't. He can't form love on his tongue like you. He forms love on his tongue the only way he knows how.

His head dips down right where your shoulder connects with your neck, pressing a kiss into tender pulse of your heartbeat. Hoping it'll carry down your body landing right where it needs to. The pleased sigh it pulls from you tells him that's exactly where it went. Kenny speaks to you through chapped lips on skin trailing down your neck. Where he'd normally leave red splotches, tonight he leaves promises.

I love you. - a kiss on your collarbone, he lays you on your back against the bed.

You mean everything to me. - he bites your flesh and swirls his tongue, tasting you.

Don't forget this, don't forget me. Please. - he begs with a shaky sigh as he comes up for air only to dive right back to the other side of your neck.

Your hands slip into the folds of his orange jacket to push it down his arms. He tears himself away from you just long enough to grant your silent request. Sitting on his knees, he tosses the jacket to the side where it disappears somewhere in your room. Next is his worn-out tank top that leaves him bare to the cool air.

"You're so pretty Ken." Your voice and hand beckon him back down as you trail fingers up his chest.

He groans into the crook of your neck followed by a soft moan. He can feel himself slipping each time you compliment him. The feeling fuels him further, tugging your bottoms off. You feel him fumble for a moment until his thumbs hook into the waistband of your underwear, there he smooths out the flesh under them with the pads of his thumb. Rolling your hips up against him, you can feel just how pretty he thinks you are.

"M'gonna make you feel so good baby." He promises as he finally removes the clothing separating you.

He finishes removing your underwear and starts working on the rest of his clothes. Pants with a silver chain on the side and boxers that only served to keep him away from you. His silver necklace dangles off his neck between the both of you as he crawls back over you. Somewhere along the way he hooks his arm under your leg, pushing it up towards your head. His other hand follows by skimming up your thigh and gathering it up into his palm. They guide your legs apart, opening you up for him.

"I know you will." You laugh. Not at him. But in a way that's so carefree, "You always do, you're so good to me."

Kenny's hips buck forward in response pulling another sweet moan from you. Another one of many he hopes. He bites his lip when you take his member into your hands, gently guiding it into your warmth. It's slow the way he nudges the tip against you, opening you further to him. He wants you- needs you to memorize every inch of him so he takes it slower. Sinking further into you until he bottoms out.

Moans mix in the silence of your room. Until you lull your head to the side with that same pleased smile. "That's it. You feel so good Kenny. Come on love, have me like only you can do."

He almost feels bad when he squeezed your thigh, so sure that you'll complain about the bruise later, but you know what you're doing. You know praising him lead to this point, even if that wasn't your intention. To pull a gasp from him was just a little treat, one you were happy to have again and again.

When he drags his cock out of you, you mewl and squirm under his grasp. Your back arches again trying to encourage him to take more of you. Every long drag brush against your walls, every move feels calculated. He knows your body, knows where to push and grind to pull every sweet sound out of you.

Every time you call out his name, he feels his control lose and any other time it wouldn't be a problem. Right now, he hates it, he wants to take this slow and show you what you mean to him. But he can't, not when you press a kiss onto his throat whispering praise after praise into his pale flesh.

Kenny's hips snap forward, long slow thrusts have turned to sharp quick ones. "Say it again." He pants in-between each slam, "tell me you want me."

"I want you! God, please!" You cry out just as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Again!"

"I want you, Kenny!"

"Fuck!"

He can feel it, he's at the end of his rope. That fire at the pit of his stomach is raging, consuming too much, but he can't finish yet. Not when you haven't. He inhales trying to focus on making you feel good. Making you feel like the way you should, but it's so hard when you're clenching around him and saying all the things that make him weak.

That's when he hears it, the way your tone pitches up an octave. You're not moaning anymore, they're silent cries of pleasure. Your nails dig into his back, and he hisses, you're close. So close.

"Ken- I'm gonna…I'm gonna cum!"

He doesn't even register when you do, not when you pull his own release from him. Kenny's moan is muffled by the way he turns his head and captures your lips again just as he spills himself into you. His cock twitches and throbs inside you, where he stays locked and connected for a few more beating moments.

A breath.

Shame washes over him, this was supposed to be about you. He was supposed to take his time.

A heartbeat.

Show you just how much he loves you because this was all he was good at. All he was ever going to be good at. Using his body to-

A laugh. Yours.

You're giggling and peppering kisses across his face. Gentle hands cup his face and hold it there. That smile that wakes him from the internal battle he put himself through.

"Kenny! You're crushing me baby!" The way you say it makes him think you don't really mind. The way you kiss his nose makes him think you're just happy he's in your arms. The way you hold him makes him think. Why'd he ever wants to be anywhere else. He smiles and presses his lips into your cheek blowing a kiss, lips make your skin vibrate.

Kenny’s just happy to have a home.

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grapejuicestyless · 7 months

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can you do a conrad fic based on sad, beautiful, tragic by t.s.?

Sad, Beautiful, Tragic.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is young, naive but not stupid. Conrad had made one too many empty promises for even her to continue believing.

My feet stood cemented on the pavement, stuck to the grounds that lingered in deadly details of him, but never us. Not now, not ever.

I felt like an idiot, showing up now, so late. A random autumn night in Boston. The streets in the city still bustling with life, longing for the scents of pumpkin spice and apple cider. The further into the suburbs you drove, the quieter it grew. The trees became plentiful, black streets becoming canvases of orange and yellow.

We weren’t right. It was obvious. Laurel reprimanded me for this, my great attempts to salvage what little we had left between us. A dwindling flame, a broken glass spilling wine across a pearl white table cloth. She called me a fool, too blinded by what I wanted to work so badly in my head that I refused what was being presented right in front of me.

His snide remarks with his school friends, all much smarter than I. They knew it. I was never a prodigy, a prospect, gifted. Each dig was minor, easily brushed away like dust on the pages of a forgotten story page. But Conrad always had a way with his words, a tongue that made even the kindest comments come out like daggers. Backhanded and cruel, aimed at the naive.

Gullible was never written on the ceiling yet each time he smiled and pointed I looked. I was a scarlet thread, wrapped tightly around his thumb.

When the door opened, Susannah greeted me with a sad smile. Her eyes spoke a thousand sentences, pleading for me to leave, walk away while I still could. But Conrad had promised, promised that if I just gave him one more chance it would be different.

And I believed him. I believed him because when I met him, he was a good man. Shy, sweet, observant. He was charming, and god he was always handsome. The Conrad I fell for never lied to me. If we disagreed, it was quickly resolved.

Now it seemed like each phone call was just another nail in the coffin. Another reason flying by, red flags blowing in the wind begging me to follow, to leave. It was walking on eggshells, fragile. I was clumsy and they broke. I sit alone in my room sometimes, phone beeping to its death, hanging off my shoulder and I forget. I forget all the reasons I am fighting, what I am fighting for.

But then he comes back, just like he always does. A vicious cycle. He throws daggers at my deepest hurts, freshest wounds to have the pleasure to watch me crumble within his grasp. And when I’m too weak to stand, he lifts me back up. Suddenly, my stomach aches, I want to throw up. It’s bubbling up my throat, the guilt is eating at me until I am nothing. How could I ever even forget how wonderful this man is to me, how could I ever want to leave? I wipe my memory of all the nights I spend crying on the floor. We never speak of it, what we’re doing, but the guilty look in his eyes tells me he knows. We both do. I sleep on the floor for another week, I can’t move. I am paralyzed by my heavy heart, a locket around my neck. It’s golden, decorated in whimsical swirls. A picture of Conrad stays with me always, I clench in my fist. I want to rip it off, watch the chain scatter. It weighs me down, I can barely breathe.

I am a good girl, I don’t fight. I stay quiet while Conrad fights himself. I don’t buy into his attempts to work me up anymore. I know that with him, with us, we are destined to see storms. I know better now that once they pass, the sky will clear and the tragedy of it all will fade away. So I wait. I always wait for that moment of clarity. I refuse to think when I’m so worked up.

It’s sad, and it’s beautiful and oh so tragic, the way we dance around each other. How hours ago I was standing outside his door, regretting my naivety, trying to salvage us. Now I sit in his living room, waiting for him with my legs crossed. The melodic ticking of the clock alerts me of the time. I’m cold, my nose is rosy. I let the house capture me in its warm blanket. A sacred place of safety, I smell Susannah, I smell my mother. I see Belly’s old pictures on the wall in frames and Stevens gifts to Jeremiah and Conrad.

“Y/n/n, hey.” His voice is airy, lips pressed to my temple. I didn’t even hear him coming in the deafening ringing of silence in my ears. My eyes shift to his face, but I cannot move.

“Hi Con.” My voice is coarse, tired. It’s so late, my eyes hurt from being open so long. His arms wrap around me as the couch dips beside my thighs. He’s so warm, so gentle now, I find myself drifting away again. Getting lost in the calm, I forget about how devastating the storm was. I haven’t even picked up all my discarded pieces yet. Somehow, I manage to keep giving away more and more, even now. I am not sure how I can afford this.

Our conversation is warm, long. He talks about school and I talk about mine. With us being alone, I miss any snide comments or judgmental stares. He is so much kinder without the influence of others. He is almost the same man I grew up loving.

“You’ll still visit me, won’t you?” He pleads innocently. The look in his eyes is genuine, I almost crumble. A sharp intake of air is stuck in my throat, my brain becomes re-wired.

I remember the sad looks from Susannah, the fights with my mother. I remember how disappointed Belly was when I left again. How Steven yelled and fought until I was gone. Everyone in my life sees it in a bad light and I still managed to miss it.

Suddenly the golden chain around my neck feels heavy again. It hurts my skin, it’s burning the back of my neck. I hold it in my hand, it’s still heavy in my palm.

“Y/n?” His hand is on my thigh, I can’t breathe. My chest heaves, my throat is burning. There’s a lump stuck in my throat. It’s expanding and my eyes hurt. I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m sad.

Standing up, his hands drop from my lap. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at him anymore. I can feel my lip quivering while I suck in a harsh breath. My eyebrows are furrowed, fists clenched.

“Y/n, hey, baby…” He cooed at me, palm pressing to my cheek. I am inconsolable, irrevocably damaged. Too lost in our beauty to remember the tragedy, the sadness that defines us. That is us.

“Conrad, I’m leaving.” It comes out sticky. Quiet other than my sniffles and his breathing.

“You just got here, did…have I done something?” I feel his hands slip down to my elbows. He holds me in place son the carpet. It hurts, not because he’s holding too tight, but because his touch burns.

“No, Conrad.” My eyes open, I search his blue ones. I get lost in our deep they are, collecting my thoughts. I feel trapped.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. If I stay any longer I’m afraid I won’t ever leave.” His face is blank until it isn’t. It’s shifting, contorting into something that looks incredibly confused, pained.

“What, what are you saying?” His voice is less calm now, raising. Not quiet reaching the level of desperation I can see building inside of him already.

“It’s a cycle, Con, can’t you see it? We’re toxic and it’s sick because we are the ones letting it be this way. We fight but we never talk. You promise me you’ll get better but you never do! I’m tired of trying to be alright when I’m around you! You don’t make me feel good.” It’s off my chest, yet he hasn’t comprehended any of it.

“Y/n, please. We can work through it, right? I love you, I do. Please just, please. I love you, you have to love me. It doesn’t just go away like that, I love you.” He’s crying now. His blue eyes clouded in a dark overcast. He makes me feel guilty. All self respect I have is gone, and suddenly I’m back in his arms.

My head finds its place on his shoulder, I tuck my face into his neck. Not to be close, but because I feel to ashamed to show it after falling so quickly under his mind games.

Silently, I agree with him. Of course I still love him, I always will. So I stay, a fool who got so close, but remained so far away. He presses another kiss to the side of my head and tells me I won’t regret it. When I wake up alone in his bed, cold the next morning, I know I’ve been blinded to another empty promise. It’s so hard to stay when he’s mean, but it’s even harder when he’s sweet. So I pack my things quietly and leave. I won’t visit him at school. Not until he comes home will we see each other again.

Oddly enough, the thought doesn’t drain me. I don’t dread never seeing him for weeks on end. I don’t regret not choosing somewhere closer to get an education simply to be near him. I am relieved he will be gone. My heart keeps beating.

It’s barely a month before I’m stood back in front of him. Only now the carpet is cold cement and his living room is the train tracks. He is in Boston, he’ll never leave. He tries his hardest to get me to stay. He’s the nicest I’ve ever seen him. He’s persuasive, but in our time apart he doesn’t know I see it less as a genuine feeling from him and more as a twisted tactic of manipulation.

“We can settle down, we’re almost out of college. Just me and you and it’ll be great. If you’d only give us another chance.” He pleads, hands not yet on my skin, but he’s so close. I can feel his warm breath on my skin.

“I don’t want that anymore, Conrad.” I try to be kind about it, I try and blame my distance on myself. It is me who is trying so desperately to break things off. He’ll never know it was his cold heart that shattered our beautiful love. But it’s helpless, he won’t stop.

“Then we’ll travel the world. Y/n, I don’t care, I just want to be with you!” He tries again. Yet all his words are the exact same. He’s not even trying to understand me, I feel like screaming.

“No, no.” I reaffirm. I won’t look at him because it hurts me too much. I know if I look at him I’ll stay again. My chest is closing in on me, I can’t help but reach to hold onto it. My pinky grazes the same locket when I do. It’s dainty, but gorgeous. There’s stacks of photos within it. Mostly of Conrad, but a few of my family underneath.

“I’m not understanding, Y/n. I don’t get it?” He’s desperate, the train is coming. Once it pulls up to the platform, if he hasn’t convinced me one last time to stay, I’ll be forever gone. It’s the final fight, we can feel it.

“All we do is fight, Conrad. I can’t fight anymore. I tried to end it earlier and you promised me it would work out, it would stop but it hasn’t! And I can’t do it anymore.” My hands rest on the bends of his elbows. I hold him close, I look into his eyes finally, I want him to understand me, I beg for him to understand me.

“Then let me fix it. Let me make it better, Y/n. Anything, I’ll do anything I just can’t-don’t walk away.” My pleads are deaf on his ears. He doesn’t care about what I want, and it’s apparent now that he never did. He’s selfish, so he only takes. He wants me but he hates to have to deal with me.

“Conrad, stop!” He’s ranting, my voice is loud over his. A few people turn their heads. It’s so late in the evening, they’re only passing. Ready to go home.

My eyes shift around until everyone has gone back to their own business. The breath that leave my chest is heavy, harsh but quick.

“Please, Con. Please just try and listen to me.” My voice is breaking. Not because my leaving is breaking my heart, but because I am tired. I am tired of staying, of being so weak. I am wasting my youth on a boy who hasn’t matured yet. I deserve more, I crave it.

“There’s no amount of fixing either of us could do to mend whatever’s happened between us. We lost it a long time ago. And I’ll always love you, how could I not? You’re everything to me. But you’re not mine anymore, and I can’t be yours.” My hands slip from his skin to my chest. I try an even out my breathing, again I am reminded of my necklace. It feels wrong to still wear his picture around my neck when I’ve already let him go.

Unclasping it slowly, I let the gold gather in my palm. It’s warm from where it touched my skin. It’s rusting form how often it’s been worn, and my neck feels lighter. I ball up my fist, taking his hand over my other one steadily.

When he feels the warmth mixing with the coolness of the pendant, I can see him giving up. He nods, swallowing hard.

When the train comes, I wave goodbye to him one last time. He’s frozen, hand still holding the locket out and eyes still sad. I wonder how long he’ll stay there, I never see him move even as the train pulls away from the station.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The whirring of the train passing is accompanied by the occasional blowing of its horn. It’s deafening against the heavy silence that’s consumed me. There’s not even a crunch of a leaf to break it. Now that she’s gone, it’s settled in how I’m truly alone. I’ve blown it.

I wait for her to be out of sight. The caboose nothing more than a small speck in the horizon. The moon is high, the wind is chilling. It’s nearly winter in Boston, yet the weather is no where near as cold as my bones. I curl my fingers over her locket, bringing my knuckles to my lips, I breathe over it.

It doesn’t even smell like her. It’s a sad souvenir of pity. She didn’t want me, I’m certain she only gave it to me because she didn’t want a reminder of me either.

I stuff it into my pocket slowly, fingers feeling around the rough cotton of my pants. It sits snug at the bottom of it, right beside the long, handwritten note I prepared for her.

I knew I had my own demons, I know I was a mess. I treated her horribly, I gambled away our love. But this time I was serious. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to make it better.

My words meant little to nothing now. There were no amount of promises I could make when I was already too late.

#tsitp conrad #conrad x reader #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher #taylor swift #sadbeautifultragic #conrad fisher x reader #conrad x you #team conrad #conrad fisher x you #olivia rodrigo picks between summer i turned pretty&039;s conrad and jeremiah #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fluff #conrad

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hazbintrashbin · 2 months

Text

“I’ve got a little SQUISH on you!” (Aroace/AAspec ft. RadioRose (Alastor x Rosie) Pt. II

When did they realize they had a 🦑 squish 🦑??:

Part I 🌹 | Part II 📻

Alastor 📻:

📻 You could pull every tooth from its bed, tearing the nerves from its nestled dens within the depths of his gums...

📻 But you could never, ever get Alastor --

📻 The ever-elusive yet dangerously strong Radio Demon himself --

📻 To admit his woes.

📻 They will always and forever remain in his back pocket. Better yet, it'll remain in the little tin cookie container, tucked among all of the bobbins of thread and needles and scraps of fabric, hidden beneath the cluster of shoes and clothes and miscellaneous items in Alastor's large, dark closet.

📻 It was an early morning in Hell. About four in the morning.

📻 Alastor ambles across the swamp, wearing nothing but a loose cotton shirt and simple pants, a long rifle strapped across his back. On his shoulder, he hauls a limp hog.

📻 "Oh, a pitiful creature you are!" Alastor says as he approaches the end of the swampland. There, his dining table awaits this fresh lump of meat. Tossing it onto the table, Alastor doesn't bother to change apart from poofing himself a clean cotton shirt.

📻 "But how delicious you'll be!" Alastor sits, grabbing a nearby fancy box. He pulls out a large knife and a rod. Idly, he rakes the knife across the rod.

📻 And he rakes, and rakes, and rakes. The metal shavings begin to glitter across his lap.

📻 Slowly, his eyes trail toward a thick cord, following it up a ladder heading toward the door in his ceiling.

📻 The trapdoor is cracked open --not because he left it that way, but because of the damage it received (along with the rest of his studio) from the epic battle between them and the Angels.

📻 Alastor's raking hand slows to a stop.

📻 Up in that room amidst the debris is his microphone. The stand's been fixed, but the mic's damaged. Alastor's been making it work as he attempts to fix it, but...

📻 He sighs, his smile growing small.

📻 If he could've beaten that damn Adam, he'd be an even stronger overlord than he already is. Perhaps even stronger than many hellborns. He'd probably even be able to fight himself out of that shitty deal...

📻 Ring, ring!

📻 Alastor's ears shoot up in surprise.

📻 Ah, yes! He'd gotten a personal landline from his dear friend Rosie not very long ago!

📻 Without realizing it, Alastor stands from his seat to swiftly move toward the phone, grinning wider than before.

📻 It's an elegant candlestick-styled landline encrusted with golden swirls and molded from a beautiful, shimmering red.

📻 A gift that could be from no one other than Rosie...

📻 "Hello, Alastor speaking!"

📻 "Alastor," Rosie laughs heartily, and Alastor's cheeks press into his eyes as he basks in her moment of amusement. "You don't need to answer the phone that way, you know!"

📻 "Oh, but I simply want you to know that you're speaking with me, my dear!" Alastor says cheekily.

📻 "I see... so, does that mean the Radio Demon himself has an imposter on the loose?" Rosie asks, matching Alastor's sass. He can almost feel her signature sharp grin growing ever wider.

📻 "Of course not!" Alastor chirps. "Because I'd have already tracked him down and killed him!" Instinctively, Alastor's free hand pulls itself into a tightly balled fist, a green glow suddenly shooting from his being as he feels the souls swirling within buzz with life, his horns stretching across his torso.

📻 Truthfully, the very thought of someone imitating him and potentially tricking Rosie pisses him off. Perhaps he should go out and make an example of someone... you know, just to keep the record straight.

📻 Rosie laughs even harder. "Oh, Alastor! I wouldn't have believed it for a second!"

📻 "Hm. Is that so?" Alastor's horns shrink, and just that quick, he's calm. He sits at his dressing table, leaning into his hand as he presses the earpiece further into his ear.

📻 "No, what do you take me for, a fool?" Before Alastor can say anything, Rosie follows up with, "I could never mistake anyone else for you, hun."

📻 There is a short pause, and Alastor hums. Rosie continues...

📻 "I have a peculiar feeling, though. It's the reason I called you today."

📻 "Oh? And what would that reason be?" Alastor asks. He lifts his head from his palm, preferring to twirl the earpiece's cord at the moment.

📻 "I haven't seen or heard from you since that crazy battle two days ago. I know you're still healing Alastor --"

📻 "Not at all!" The words shoot through Alastor's teeth, and Rosie falls silent. The quietness between them grows as Alastor tenses for a moment. His smile feeling quite forced now, he clears his throat.

📻 "I'm doing just fine, Rosie. Is that all you wanted to say?" Alastor's ears remain pinned down, and he drags his pointed nails across the table's surface, making light scratches in it. There's a low, rumbly sound on the other line. Rosie's humming.

📻 Finally, she says, "I know you too well, Alastor."

📻 "Really?" Snarkily, Alastor says, "I think there's more to know, my friend!"

📻 Rosie asks if that's a joke or if he seriously believes that. Alastor replies but doesn't necessarily answer the question.

📻 Honestly, he doesn't know if he's joking or not either.

📻 "You're irritated." Rosie simply says.

📻 "Not so --I feel quite well this morning!" Alastor insists.

📻 "You're not usually up at four, nearly five in the morning. Your day starts at six or seven, maybe seven-thirty going on eight if you're sleeping in late." Rosie says firmly. The tightness in her voice makes Alastor's grin slowly pull back into some kind of snarl, his nose crinkling. Heat rises within him, his face going from a purplish gray to a deep magenta.

📻 "Rosie," Alastor chuckles, but nothing's funny. "What do you know of my schedule? No one knows my schedule."

📻 "I know you usually start your morning with a hunt and a cold meal." She says.

📻 "Many people do!" Alastor replies.

📻 "Usually, you're already dressed, but given the time, I bet you're in your drabbier clothes."

📻 "Hah! I'm fully dressed!" Alastor says, awkwardly glancing elsewhere at the blatant lie.

📻 "With a smile? Sure. In your day clothes? Absolutely not!" Rosie huffs.

📻 "Well, what does it matter to you, Rosie?!" Alastor snaps, his fist slamming onto the table. Rosie laughs a little. It's adorable, but it only pisses him off more.

📻 "And losing your temper? Now, that's really not like you, Alastor." Rosie says. Alastor grunts. Being taunted into acting out of his character... is unlike him.

📻 And pretty embarrassing, actually.

📻 Especially on the phone with Rosie...

📻 Trying his best to regain control, Alastor slowly lets out a laugh of his own. It's a little weird-sounding --not entirely forced and not entirely genuine...

📻 "Come on, Alastor," Rosie finally says, "Tell me what's wrong."

📻 Alastor remains silent, however. His lips purse into an uncomfortably tight smile.

📻 "You know how I know something's wrong with you?" Rosie asks.

📻 Alastor remains silent. After a while, Rosie says...

📻 "You're speaking without your radio voice."

📻 Somehow, Alastor's brows furrow even more. His spirit shrivels into a tiny ball, and if he had a tail --truthfully -- it'd probably be tucking itself beneath his behind by now.

📻 "Alastor the Radio Demon has a very distinctive voice, you know!" Rosie says, "But every now and again, when it's an odd hour of the day, and there hasn't been any broadcasts, or those baby overlords aren't complaining about a certain radio demon on their little picture boxes or tiny telephones..."

📻 "When I don't even hear a Cab Calloway song or a ragtime piece playing on your channel... I know there's something wrong with my dearest friend." Rosie finishes her explanation, now going silent. Alastor remains silent as well.

📻 A few moments pass.

📻 "... Alastor? Are you there, Alastor?" Rosie asks.

📻 "... Of course I am, my dear."

📻 With his refusal to say anything else, Rosie sighs deeply.

📻 "I suppose you don't want to tell me." She says.

📻 "Well --" Alastor is interrupted by Rosie.

📻 "Ah, ah, ah! Don't worry about it. I won't push you any further." She says this so sweetly, a smile evident in her tone.

📻 After a moment, Alastor can't help but think to himself, "She's the only person in all of Hell who could get under my skin like this and yet survive."

📻 Does she realize how special she is?

📻 Then, Alastor shifts in his seat, leaning into his chair and tucking his free hand into the sleeve that is his arm and torso.

📻 Indeed, she's a special demon after all. How could he ever stay mad at one of his closest friends?

📻 Alastor's spirit slowly lifts and expands inside him, and before he knows it, his mouth moves on its own.

📻 "You have always been so earnest, Rosie," he says, "It has always been the spirit I've admired in you."

📻 "Oh!" Rosie seems caught off guard, and Alastor finds himself laughing. For real, this time.

📻 His ears lift as do his shoulders. Everything's brighter just that quickly.

📻 "You've always been so charming, my friend!" He continues. "A one-of-a-kind demon belle."

📻 This time Rosie gets to laugh.

📻 With half-lidded eyes, Alastor shifts to lean into his hand again. He takes this moment to simply enjoy the sound of Rosie's laughter this early hellish morning.

📻 "Oh, Alastor," she coos between her giggles, "You're the most!"

📻 "And you're the mostest."

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

WOO!! Finally done!!

I did NOT intend for Alastor's part to be so long! Like, BRO, when I finished writing it (FINALLY!) I just sat back and checked the time… it went from 11PMish when I started to damn 2, goin’ on 3 o’clock!! I was like “WTH??!!” 😭😂😂

Plus!! I feel like the beginning is kind of slow, but, BUT I think y'all gonna survive based on the rest of the story!

That said, I kinda feel like this part of the “Squish” collection leans a lot more platonic as compared to Rosie’s part, but I thought about it and was like: “You know, that’s not necessarily a bad thing!” After all, while I personally HC Rosie as someone in the grey area of aroace, I always imagine Alastor as someone who is romance-indifferent (based on how he behaved in the comics when some of the ladies of cannibal town were swooning over him, otherwise, I don’t know if there’s been any other info from the creators about his feelings toward romance (not smex!!), but I don’t get the impression that he’s disgusted or completely put off by it —just disinterested, if nothing else). As such, I felt like someone like Alastor, while not seemingly as bothered by the idea of intimacy/romance as much as he is seggs, would probably not think romance or even behave in such a way when dealing with someone he’s especially close to. At the same time, with the kind of chemistry he has with Rosie, I can easily see an intimate bond between them. Is it sexual intimacy? Absolutely not. Romantic intimacy? … Ehhhhh, so-so but not quite, especially on Alastor’s end. Is it simply a deep, emotional kind of intimacy? Slightly blurring the lines between platonic and romantic?? Well, yeah, kind of like that!

All and all, I’m still deciding what kind of quasi-platonic relationship I want them to have. I feel like it would be a kind of intimate relationship where certain forms of intimacy are welcome (cuddles, hand-holding/arm-linking, hours specifically reserved for each other (dates, lol), innocent kisses here and there, etc), but in honor of Alastor’s sex-averse nature, I imagine sex, for example, isn’t really something they would engage in —if ever at all, honestly.

And I think I feel fine with that. There’s plenty of Alastor content that completely ignores his sex-averse nature for the sake of a spicy fanfic, and to each their own I suppose, but I do think there could be at least a fair amount of content (shipping or otherwise) that still at least tries to respect Alastor’s orientation.

Although, at the same time I feel like for those who challenge Alastor being paired with anyone, many of them are starting to imply (or flat-out say) that bc of his aroaceness he couldn’t possibly be in a relationship of any kind?? That he’d be utterly repulsed by it??

On one hand, if that’s your headcanon, do what you want! Plus, there are def aroace folk who don’t want to engage in relationships of any kind, and that’s valid, too. On the other hand, I’m a little concerned that a lot of people are starting to (once again) associate all ace, aro-, and aroaces with this inherent disgust or disinterest in intimacy! I feel like this is snowballing into the “aces/aros/aroaces are emotionless/can’t love/robots” kind of thing!! And this time, it’s being perpetuated by other aroace/aspec people!! Which is crazy!!

All in all though, I just feel like —bottom line —if you’re gonna ship Alastor, at least try to be respectful of his orientation. However, let us all keep in mind that being aroace/aspec does NOT mean you “can’t love”/care about some intimately. That may not include sex/romance, and if it does, it may not look the way it’s depicted in allo relationships, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. Idk. It’s just something I’ve been noticing lately… IDK!!! It’s complicated, lol.

Anywho, I’ll finally get off my soapbox again!! lol. I believe I said I’d follow up on this miniature RadioRose collection with a few HCs?? Like a traditional HC list?? Soo…. Yeah!

Hope you guys enjoyed the post, long as it is —and all of you stay tuned!!! 📻

Part I 🌹 | Part II 📻

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itsyourstarboy · 1 year

Text

Freebound

(Redacted Audio fanfic—1247 words)

Summary: Its the moonbound solstice, and Freelancer is freebound. Watch them cause chaos, on accident and on purpose.

Read here on Ao3

—

The sunlight streamed through the curtains above the bed, cascading a golden glow across the room. Gavin, still dazed with sleep, stretched out an arm to pull his deviant close. His outstretched hand met cold sheets, and his brow furrowed as he felt around, cracking an eye open in confusion.

“Deviant?” He softly called.

When he was met with silence, he got up. It wasn’t like them to leave him in bed all alone. Quickly finding his pants that were discarded the night before, he exited their bedroom. Where were they?

As he neared the kitchen, he picked up on their aura. It was bouncing off the walls, feeling strong one minute, and practically nonexistent the next.

“Deviant?” He softly called, again.

They turned to him, a small smile on their face, “g’mornin’.”

The kitchen was… well, it wasn’t a mess, per say. It was… different.

“What are you doing in here, love?” Gavin asked.

“I’m rearranging the cabinets.”

“At 7am?”

Freelancer stared at him for a moment, “yeah.”

Gavin suppressed a chuckle, “may I ask why?”

“Well, I woke up this morning and I felt like I had bees in my bones, so I went to the grocery store down the street to buy six pounds of butter. Then when I got home, I accidentally set the couch on fire. Went shopping for one online, but I think I ordered 20.”

Gavin was speechless. “H-how long have you been awake?”

“1:14 am,” they laughed out in a sigh. They looked so tired.

“When you told me the solstices were often… interesting for you, this is not what I expected.”

“There is never a way to predict what may happen, I am a slave to my core for the remainder of this solstice. I think I just caused the large oak tree outside to become an even larger oak tree.”

At that, the ground shook, and Gavin’s eyes went wide.

“How about we go back to bed for a bit?”

II.

Lasko was doing paperwork on his coffee table. Nothing too strenuous—he was sunbound after all—just some stuff to keep him occupied while he felt like a dry apple slice.

Freelancer walked in the door, “hey, Lasko-babe.”

“Wh- oh. Hi, Freelancer. What are you doing here? And why didn’t you knock? N-not that I’m upset you're here, I mean, I-I’m always happy to see you, it’s just that you’re not exactly the type to just invite yourself into someone’s apartment… At least- at least I think you're n-not… are you?”

They sighed with a tired smile, “yeah I know, m’sorry. I would’ve knocked, but it’s too… too much. Too noise. M- no- that’s not… words.”

Lasko stood as his friend swayed on their feet, “are- are you f-feeling? Alright? Pft- no, what am I saying? Of course you’re not, it’s the solstice. Com- come sit down, how did you even get here, anyway?”

“Mmm,” Freelancer hummed as Lasko forced them to sit on the couch. They immediately sunk into the cushions, “I was feeling up, an’ I wanted to come hang out with you, but halfway here I felt not-up.”

“Not-up?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean- I guess that makes sense? Y-you are a freelancer, so you’re going to feel all kinds of… ‘ups’ and downs. M- Magically, anyway.”

“M’yeah, my magic has been ups and downs,” they mumbled, leaning into Lasko as he sat next to them. “I used psychokinesis to launch my phone into orbit.”

III.

Huxley was laying on his side, his head propped up on his arm, and his fingers threading through Damien’s hair. He was happy taking care of him like this. Right here, in this moment, with his boyfriend curled up next to him.

There was a knock at the front door.

“Are you gonna get that?” Damien mumbled when Huxley made no attempt at getting up.

“No,” he sighed contentedly, “whoever it is can just come back later.”

It would turn out that Huxley wouldn’t need to get the door, as whoever had knocked opened it for themself.

“The heck…?” Huxley said, sitting up slightly.

A familiar voice rang through the house, “Huuuuux? Damiiii?”

The two boys sighed in relief, glad that the home intruder was just Freelancer. Sweet, innocent Freelancer-

“Are either of you here? I think I drained the town's water supply.”

Huxley immediately sat up, telling Dames that he would be right back. The fire elemental could only let out an affirmative hum in response as he tiredly laughed at the freelancer's antics.

Entering the front room, Huxley found Freelancer hovering by a window.

“Freelancer? Dude- why are you all wet??”

They turned to him, panting heavily, “I was walking here from Damien’s place, and the Dahlia Spring decided to start chasing me, so I started running, but that made the water faster, so I jumped into your neighbor's pool to escape.”

Huxley slowly approached the window, “holy shi- Freelancer, the entire street is flooded!”

“I knowww,” they whined, “I’m sorry. I would clean it up but I’m afraid I’ll level the entire neighborhood.”

“Okay, well… let- lets just get you dried off,” Hux said, taking Freelancer’s hand to lead them to the bathroom.

“Wait, wait,” they pulled away, “is Damien here?”

“Uh- yeah, he’s resting in the bedroom.”

Freelancer made their way to the room and peeked their head through the doorway to see Damien all bundled up, “oh god that’s adorable. Is he wearing your sweatshirt??”

“Shut up,” Damien groaned, his voice all muffled from the blankets. “Why are you here?”

Huxley appeared next to them with a towel, “jeez, dude. You’re freezing.”

“It’s the solstice,” Freelancer answered, stubbornly trying to push Huxley’s hands away as he desperately tried to dry them off. “I remembered that you’re sunbound, so I was like ‘Fireboy must be feeling like shit right now, and I, too, feel like shit,’ so here I am, to feel like shit with you.”

Freelancer paused, hissing in disapproval, as Huxley ruffled their hair dry.

“I went to your place first, though. Let myself in. I cleaned everything.”

Damien sat up a little, propping himself against the pillows, “you… cleaned everything?”

“Yeah,” they wavered, leaning against the wall, “and then I remembered I was looking for you, so- oh god-” they keeled over, “I’m gonna throw up-”

Before either of the boys could react, Freelancer had run to the bathroom.

IV.

Damien’s phone buzzed with notifications from the group chat.

Gavin: does anyone happen to know where the freelancer is? I swear I left them alone for five minutes

Lasko: yeah don’t worry they’re here at my place

Lasko: they randomly showed up and eventually passed out on the couch

Lasko: sorry I would have told you but I was doing paperwork

Gavin: it’s alright as long as they’re safe

Damien: Lasko, I think you should check your couch.

Lasko: what?

Lasko: why?

Damien: Just do it.

Lasko: um…

Gavin: ???

Lasko: I’m so sorry

Lasko: they’re not there

Lasko: I lost them

Gavin: how did you lose them!?!?

Lasko: how did you???

Damien: Calm down, they’re here at Hux’s place.

Damien: They showed up a couple minutes ago.

Damien: They’re puking in the toilet.

Gavin: oh thank god

Huxley returned to the room, a sleeping Freelancer in his arms, “Dames, they tried to escape through the window, and when they couldn’t they said, ‘I’m going to stop existing now,’ and passed out.”

Damien looked back at his phone.

Damien: Please come get them.

—

#redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted fanfiction #redacted fic #redacted writing #redacted freelancer #redacted damien #redacted lasko #redacted huxley #redacted lasko moore #lasko moore #redacted gavin #redacted solstice #redacted moonbound #redacted sunbound #redacted freebound #redacted damn #redacted demons

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multicharablack · 7 days

Text

Pretty Golden

( FITE!Mikey x reader )

—,,—

Inspired from this @sha-biest post,I saw it and almost bunked my head while trying to get my phone to write this,this actually have some similar things with my ‘Famous in the end-time’ AU for the boys,but Ehh,it was an old AU and it featured the boys being singers/influencers/actors (I remember discarding it because I already have so many AUs,should I continue it though?).One of the reasons why it’s also not in the ‘All my creations’ list,it was so old I think it was one of my first ever AU for the Rottmnt fandom.

I am so unwell for Mikey especially for some people who draw him so gosh dang handsome *fans myself*.I’m a Donnie and Leo Stan but Mikey…he makes me feel things that shouldn’t have existed,so anyways,have my actual AU of Mikey being an actor/model/influencer etc x Reader,enjoy little birdies~

—“—

Note:

I’m no model nor actor expert so,this may have inappropriate information about it and I’m just making things up,feedbacks are welcome unless negative or hurtful

—,,—

Clicking sounds was the only thing that was heard inside the studio,photographers taking as much pictures as they can get as the model posed in each second passing,making sure their hips swayed and hair flared for extra dramatics,a little too much but it seems to make the people happy.

Mikey was an ‘Ehh’ kinda happy

He can’t judge nor be a judgmental person,he isn’t that harsh and isn’t really him.He was friendly with his coworkers mostly and always talk with sweetness and friendliness that makes him a favored personal on the fashion industry each day he entered for work,but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t find some ill or annoying in some instinct.

His snout scrounged in pity judgement as the model in front still kept doing flashy moves like in a Barbie movie,he knows the full instinct of doing something dramatic to get more likes as a model but damn…it’s more childish and prideful then actual determination as he sees it,years of past familiarity making him a bit more knowledgeable in this whole ‘fame and game’ thing,still,it makes him shake his head as he just waits for his turn with a drink in his hand,bored out of his mind.

Self-build apparel had become the world’s top 1 fashion industry the universe has ever seen -plus with matching hand flares when Donnie said it in his meeting,so dramatic and flamboyant as always- ,a tacky un-creative name but he can’t judge but smile since it’s his older brother that made this company,as weird as it is,it still had a huge investment just five months after its first opening.Very ironic since Donnie also had a company dedicated for technology and ‘vision of the future’ that only grow viral after,counting with his fingers,a year and half.But Donnie’s smart business skills weren’t the only one that gained the two companies popularity in the whole world,maybe with a little bit of Leo’s and April’s help,it might also been Mikey’s little doing.

As many had mentions him before,Michelangelo was the crown jewel in the company as many say it multiple times now,he was good looking,he won’t doubt he is.Shiny black long locks of hair that flows down the ground like silk,yellow and orange threads decorating it like he dyed it permanently only to know that it was just the effects of overuse mystic and ninpo magic,smooth green skin even with his age -(he isn’t old,he just turned 25)- ,round face but with a mature chin to even his maturity,golden and blue rusted eyes that twinkle and shine,beautiful yellow spots in his face and body like golden tear droplets,and a perfectly mixed ‘masculine plus feminine’ body -(similarly like Leo but at least he wasn’t always called a ‘woman’ so many annoyingly times,good for him)- .Out of every model in the company,he was the most favored -not because he was the brother of the founder,which would have been bias- and most liked out of the public,fame rose quick and steady with just his first few real debuts.

And not only is he seen in magazines and advertisements,also in movies and TV shows as a minor character,turns out you could also be an actor with just showing a few talents of acting while still juggling your model career.Many people already demanded that he plays a more leading role or a major character in a film but he turns them down,being a background character is good enough so his life won’t be too hectic.

His career went smoothly nice in the first couple of months.Fancy parties,talk shows,big meetings,tentative offers.Designer clothing soon filled Mikey’s closet till he needed to buy two more,suede shoes and even some heels,and some other trinkets he gets from his shopping or fan mails or generally some things that were gifts from his family.The rest of his brothers did their own thing.Leo became of a known actor and singer,thanks to his incredible acting skills and vocal range that he can do and take,his ego was being feed in the daily bases but at least he didn’t abuse it that much then Mikey thought.Donnie was an in and out actor,influencer and model,since he is already busy keeping his two companies check and steady running so he doesn’t really have much time to indulge on the fame part,but he still is a pretty well-known dancer after debuting on a dance competition,people went wild after that.And Raph is starting to be a well known action movie star,boxer and a gym fitness guide for all three of them since he still sees that they need to stay healthy as possible

And Mikey?

Busy being a pampered model and privileged actor that his time of doing his favorite hobbies,like painting and drawing and even cooking,was barely any hobby anymore.His brothers did too,but at least they had a little bit of more time.He could only do it in his free time,which would only be once to twice a week or less.He doesn’t even need to be taken care of,a sole reason why he didn’t ask for a assistant,even if Donnie insisted it to make his schedule more clearer and free,his starting to regret it.

(Ahh,so this what fame feels like?,wonder what would have been if he was a famous chef instead?)

“Ughh So boring,why is it taking so long?”He groans,taking a long sip in his pineapple juice to cool down his steam,heart-shaped ice clinking together as he dawned half the drink,it worked its charm but the coldness slipping down his throat was a little too much,maybe he shouldn’t drink something this freezing too much.

The cat yokai behind him just hums,”Im sorry sir,The boss needs as much pictures as he can get so he could post the magazine next Monday”

They say with the usual polite tone,taking the now empty drink in Mikey’s hands before offering another one.He glanced at it before smiling,taking it one hand as the other was still supporting his chin placed on top,the armrest creaking a bit from his weight.

“Well,at least make it quick so I won’t have to wait the whole afternoon ruining my makeup”He kindly demanded,still haven’t abused his power of being the brother (again) of the founder of the actual company even if it was tempting,they only nod.

Uggh,another long day

—-•—-

“Help?”

Mikey spoke curiously,standing up straight were he once was leaning casually in the leather sofa.He was now in Donnie’s office after finally being done with his photo-shots,resting in the placed sofa that was put there from his request,and from Donnie also so he could have some time with him if he can.

He was tired till his bones but he still managed to have some energy to be curious,even though he only wanted to sleep and pass out.

The said purple turtle just nod and looked away from his computer one second before returning to clicking in a fast pace,taking a few silents before he answered back.

“I’ve noticed how your getting tired lately and your schedule being unorganized,I’m starting to wonder maybe you should have an assistant with you to help you on your activities”

Those were words of worry and concern,even if it was monotone and serious in the mouth of the source.And that was quite sweet.

“I appreciate your concern Dee,but I don’t need it,I can handle this myself”Mikey just waves off his offer with a shake of his head,being truthful with his words but only made Donnie frown,looking at him fully as well as stopping on whatever he was doing.

“Don’t be ridiculous,You need it and besides,an assistant is what you need to keep your schedule free and clean”

His words were tempting,making the orange turtle imagine the possibilities of having more free time then before,maybe he could finally have time to cook and paint again,that idea made Mikey’s eyes bright.

“You really mean it?”He spoke with a squeal,tiredness leaving and instead came childish excitement and that made Donnie chuckle lightly,already sensing his eagerness to have so much time if he does agree.

“Yes,I really mean it”

Another happy squeal,but Mikey cough once to keep calm and acted mature again,his childish excitement in his eyes still remains though.

“Well,Sure,I guess”He spoke nonchalantly

“Good,You’ll meet them tomorrow”

—-•—-

To be continued~

—-•—-

So Umm…The story is quite weird as I reread it and still deciding if I should make a part two of it,which would obviously happen since I left you guys a cliffhanger,whoopsie daisie

Anyways,I hope you enjoy

Will this go a little bit mature and spicy?Yes,very much

I will also post other oneshots dedicated to the same AU here if I resurface it again from its grave,maybe if I have some more ideas I could salvage in my brain

#rottmnt #chara is typing #chara’s idea/drabble drabble time #rottmnt mikey #charahctime #one of my au’s #????#??? i guess #canon x reader #x reader #Oneshot #Chara’s many oneshots #rise of the tmnt #Hello #>:3

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glasswaters · 1 year

Text

the lake by the mountain

It starts, as all things do, with a story. It begins, gauze-thin and stretched across these mountains, long before I was ever born, with the unspooling of a thread. Cotton, bleached white and pulled taut to keep a petticoat’s hem.

“Such was my task”, says my grandmother, who smells of wants and conviction the way my mother smells of daffodils. Her hands are worn, now, by age or by exhaustion, and when she holds her embroidery into the light, I can see the sun peeking through pierced fabric. The gas lamp on the table gives a groan, the sharp noise of the last of the wick eaten up by flame, just before it dies.

Here is how my mother tells it, when my father has left for the day and she lays the pelts out to dry: your grandmother is a stubborn thing, sweeting. When they lay the phone lines, she refused them. When they carved space for the plumbing, she filled it with soil. When they traced cables from outlet to outlet, she stood, lamp in one hand, knife in the other, and bared her teeth.

The grocer knows her by name, yet.

My grandmother’s skin is paper-thin. When she turns her head, I can see the light through it, as though she has long since been pulled taut over a bulb’s jutting edges. When she opens her mouth, her voice comes out a sharp thing, whetted and precise. “What use have I”, she says, and pulls the thread until it near snaps. “My sweetling, whatever would I do with fancy baubles?”

The fire cracks, and paints in the shape of it, my grandmother’s face golden. I shrug. “Comfort”, I say.

“Convenience”, says my grandmother, and drags her mouth downwards. There is a fountain in the courtyard and an outhouse by the trees. There is copper cookware, lined up in the kitchen, and a basin sturdy enough to hold her. The windows are open wide, and in the planters hanging off the sills, my grandmother has made for the bees an offering of sweetness.

Every summer, they feast on the flowers, a thick buzz of wings.

“What need do I have for wires?”, she asks, with her fingertips hooked underneath my chin. “The mountains are slow, dearling, and there is much lays heavy in the valleys that has not yet reached the summits.”

“Heat settles high”, I say, and my grandmother laughs. The furs on her sofa are as soft as they have ever been, silver things that I can dip my hands into and watch them disappear. My fingers sink into them undisturbed, until they rest at the downy warmth of them.

Stories are things made of thread and words, half-spun and half-dreamt. When my grandmother was new, with smooth hands and skin thick enough to break teeth, she would sit on the summit, just by the cross that marks its highest point, and hem petticoats and linens. Her feet were bare, then, and bleeding, still dripping stubbornness over limestone and fossils.

As the locals tell it, a spirit rose from the lake in the valley at night and made the trek to the summit; bloody feet and tender, stubborn mouth. With wild hair and wilder heart, it dragged from the bottom of the lake to the top of the mountain sweet freshwater pearls.

It sat, wanton and wanting, on the moss, until someone came to pin it by the limbs to plush velvet. A needle threaded through every fingertip, string tied about every toe, it stayed, like that, under dull eyes and duller teeth.

Until the dusk came, and brought with it the sun’s death.

As the locals tell it, the spirit made then the trek back down to the lake. Sometimes, at night, something wanton lay, with eyes like polished pearls and hands carved of dripping limestone, motionless until the sun rose above the mountain peaks.

“The skies were clear”, says my grandmother, and in the soft light of the waning sun, her eyes shine white. “Planets pinned to the firmament, and you could map worlds in the space between. Some days, I could see beyond this solar system.” She smiles at me, a wrinkle from the corners of her mouth to the slack of her cheeks, and keeps me pinned, still, on her furs. “When the day was cold, and there were no clouds, I could see to the ends of the universe at night. Not anymore, now.”

In my back pocket, my phone buzzes. My grandmother drags her fingers to the seam of my trousers. In my ears roar the rocking waves of a storm. “I don’t have to check it”, I say. My palms ache at the tips, still buried in the pelts, still half-hidden. Half curled.

My grandmother tilts her head. Like a bird, almost. Like something with sharp claws and sharper teeth, with eyes that see – something moves. Somewhere within my ribcage or tangled about my spine, something shifts. My grandmother’s eyes are mother-of-pearl, and her teeth are soft, soft things.

“Don’t you?”, she asks. Her skin shimmers in this light – a blanket of oil on a lake’s surface, a layer of despair around a kernel of dirt. Hands, worn and wrinkled.

Mine are smooth, still, and I shake my head. “I don’t”, I say. She laughs. She holds out her hands, and fits them to the curve of my jaw. They lay, like that, unmoving, stubborn things, against my skin.

“Child”, she says softly. “Sweet thing.”

My mother leaves the pelts out to dry once my father has left for work. Before he comes home, she collects them and folds them, damp still, until they fit into the suitcase on top of the dresser, with its broken clasp and the belt tied around it. Her mouth has long since fit itself into the gaps of my father’s smile.

Her phone in her pocket buzzes. When she picks up, my father’s voice drips from the speaker. “Hello, my loves”, he says, and my mother fades around the edges.

“Hello”, she says. Her hair is dry.

At night, something lies in the lake, its eyes wide open, its mouth agape. Its hands are smooth the way stones are in riverbeds – so long have they lain in the water that there is nothing at all to them, anymore, except polished rounds. Its hair floats, weightless, like seagrass sprouting from its head. Or, perhaps, like fabric does when it is put to soak in water that is more gasoline and blue dye, now, it drags, swirling, until it lies trembling at the lake’s surface.

The stars are dull behind their layer of light. The city is alive, even at night, flickering billboards and humming streetlights and girls with bright eyes and brighter smiles, gathered about the pavement. They carry their heels in one hand and their phone in the other, texting half-formed flirts to half-shaped crushes.

Laughing, bell-shaped.

The thing in the lake watches the skies. In the morning, it will lead wet footprints to the mountain’s summit.

“Come”, says my grandmother, ever sharp. “Why don’t you help me with the linens?”

I drag my hands from her pelts. My phone in the back pocket of my trousers is warm, and presses smooth against me. I don’t check it.

My grandmother’s hands are a solid weight on me, and my hems are still wet. My feet leave bloody prints on her wood floor.

“Come”, says my grandmother. I come. I breathe.

I reach for the linens. ______ commission for @hasenfu, thank you for commissioning me!

#spilled words #spilled ink #writerblr #writers of tumblr #poets of tumblr #on generational longing #on spirits that lay in lakes and watch their world pass them by #on old women in houses from times long past #a conversation between a grandmother and her grandchild

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himbos-hotline · 10 months

Note

from the vulnerable confession prompt list 'how long have you known?' for hangmega with kota haunting the narrative

Angel to me // Watashi ni totte tenshi

Word count: 2364 words Ship: "Hangman" Adam Page/Kenny Omega, Nick Jackson/Kenny Omega [if you squint and turn your head sideways], Golden lovers Characters: "Hangman" Adam Page, Kenny Omega, The young bucks, Kota Ibushi [mentioned] Triggers: None that I can really think off... Authors note: I wrote fluff yesterday and now its impossible for me to write something cute or wholesome. This grabbed me by the balls again and I think it has some of my best lines in....The japanese at the end translates to 'coming soon angel' according to google translate. READ ON AO3

Kenny mostly sees Kota in his dreams. Clattering through his mind, knocking everything out of the apartment in his mind like a cat knocking glasses off the table, until it's just the two of them. Kenny stares at him with wide eyes, flooded with emotions as Kota collects a needle and thread, stitching the broken seams of the man he remembers. Kenny lets his hands wander across his damaged frame, watching as Kota weaves red ribbon around mental scars and embroider little hearts around bruises. He stares Kenny in the eye, hunting through the darkness and the pain for a flash of the soft, blond curls and bright eyes of the man that he fell in love with.

Kota always appears in Kenny’s dreams but he never gets to speak, plush lips part and a soft pink tongue dart out to wet them and Kota’s chest shudders under his shirt, rolling little balls of thread around his fingers. His mouth opens and Kenny recognises the tune that plays; loud and frustratingly stubborn. His alarm always cuts Kota off from speaking and by the time Kenny opens his eyes, his body is still just as broken as before he went to bed. He’s only healed in his dreams.

The tight hands of sleep release Kenny the way people release butterflies; all hopeful and gentle hands, watching as they flutter away all while having the silent dread that sometime, eventually. The butterfly will die or be eaten and all that time will have been wasted. He swings his legs out from under the covers and his knees pop in protest, skating pain wrapping itself up around his thighs and around his back like vines wrapping and strangling a rose. He sighs, dragging bare feet across the carpeted hotel room, shivering slightly at the chill that only hotel bathrooms have. The suns barely started to rise over whatever city they're in and Kenny watches it for a few moments through the dirty glass of the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth, purposely keeping his eyes off the reflection in the mirror.

He spits into the sink and listens to the water run, watching it twirl down the plughole and disappear, gurgling through the pipes before wandering back into the hotel room. He dresses quietly, pinning a hair tie between his teeth as he wrestles his feet into battered sneakers and snatches his phone off the bedside table. Kenny double checks he has everything; phone, room key, headphones, overwhelming sense of longing for he’s never going to see again? Check, check, check.

He runs, works machines in the gym and stumbles back to the hotel, gripping a take away mug of coffee in his hand hard enough that ring-worn nails are leaving behind small crescent moons in the styrofoam. In the elevator, Kenny counts the floors and stares at the mirrored walls, tracing the pattern of the marble and not the tiredness that floats in his eyes. The doors purr open and Kenny steps out slowly, nodding politely at a mother who apologizes as her child goes careening around Kenny’s legs, smacking into his hip with his backpack. For a few seconds, the child stares up at Kenny and something twists in his heart; there's a flash of innocence and adoration that paints the child's dark brown eyes. Kenny signs a few things, making small talk and ruffles the childs brown hair, smiling as he gasps and bounces away to his mother, poster flailing behind him gripped tightly in his chubby hand.

Kenny waves as the elevator door closes and so does his smile, he fixes his headphones back in his ears and stumbles down the hall, mind fixed only getting home. Kenny closes his eyes as he hunts for his room keys in his pockets. The child's eyes flash through the darkness behind his eyelids and he flinches them open, blinking brightly under the overwhelming yellow glow of the hallway lights. He’s seen the look a thousand times before in fans eyes; starstruck and stunned but there was something different this time, like the child with coffee coloured eyes was apologizing for something, looking at someone over Kenny’s shoulder that only he could see. Chills tangle their way up Kenny’s spine and as he jiggles the key in the lock, he looks over his shoulders, sighing when he sees the hallway empty. Just Kenny and his shadow and the vastness of unshakeable loneliness that's mixed in Kenny’s bloodstream.

The door opens with a pop, the latch clicking satisfyingly as it reveals the hotel room to Kenny, he walks through patches of golden sunlight decorating the floor and tosses his phone onto the white sheets. He showers and changes clothes again, leaving damp curls to fan around his shoulders and frame his face as Kenny crawls back under the covers, eyes half closed.

The body next to him is warm and still mostly asleep, face highlighted by strands of golden sun as it dances in and out of heaven. An arm wraps around Kenny’s middle and like a dog craving attention, Kenny follows. Letting the body maneuver him against its side, forehead tucked in Kenny’s neck as it stumbles through the last sections of sleep. The body breathes against the dents of Kenny’s collarbone and he plasters a smile on his face as it speaks, Virginian accent thick and quiet. “G’mornin’ angel.”

Kenny looks down at Adam’s face; at the half lidded green eyes, growing in alertness like moss growing over an abandoned gravestone and he catches the nickname still caught in Adam’s teeth; the color of molded fools gold. It's a common enough nickname, especially for Kenny but it still takes him by surprise. He’s heard it before, sure, but in a different tone, in a different voice, vowels shaped differently and he feels an ever familiar pang in longing in his mind.

“Good morning.” He whispers back instead, trying to kiss the nickname out of Adam’s teeth and off his mouth, trying to kiss the coppery taste of uncanniness into an ever-familiar gold.

The two of them move together in the uncoordinated bliss of early morning sex; bodies pressed together moving slowly with no real goal in mind. Adam whines against Kennys shoulder and Kenny tangles one hand into his curls, still messy and tangled from sleep. There's a growing pressure behind his eyes, almost like Kenny wants to cry. So he closes them tighter and rolls his hips with purpose. It seems to be enough as soon Adams spilling, warm and wet across Kenny’s fluttering stomach and the crisp white sheets, cum sparkling silver in the sunshine. Kenny pulls out slowly and flinches inwardly when Adams head comes to rest against his racing heart, breath spilling across his stained chest. “Where were you this morning?”

Kenny pauses his movements, his palm stopping against his chest. He thinks for a few seconds, looking down at Adam’s quietly questioning eyes. Wrapped in his own head? Trying to run away from a golden star that’s still hung in Kenny’s sky by a red string that links people forever, a constantly glowing North Star that Kenny looks at for advice, for comfort.

“Gym.”

“Oh…” Adam nods, giving Kenny a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he scrambles his legs out of bed. There's no pain that paints itself across Adam's eyes as he moves, working his way to the bathroom. Kenny wipes himself off and stares pathetically for a few seconds at his body before he hears Adam call from the bathroom, asking about food or something that Kenny doesn't quite pick up over the sound of running water, so he stays quiet. Adam doesn’t let up, he calls Kenny’s name over the sound of the shower pounding against the floor.

Kenny makes a small sound, trying his best to sound interested as Adam asks for his toiletries back. Kenny takes it to him and leans against the shower door as Adam washes his hair and body, humming softly as he does so. The two of them share a glance and Kenny steps under the hot water, arms wrapped around Adam middle like he's holding onto someone different; fingers spreading against his chest and mouth already nipping and biting at his earlobe.

Kenny’s teeth graze against a sensitive spot on Adam's jaw and he gasps, forehead resting against the wet tiles of the bathroom shower.

“I love you.”

Kenny feels the confession more than he hears it; feels the creak of Adam’s jaw joint against his teeth, feels the tender syllables slide against chewed pink lips and into the mold in the tiles grout. There’s beats of silence where Kenny’s ears catch up and he pulls away, hands untangling from around Adam's hips. He blinks, body going cold and numb under the beating heat of the shower. Adam’s eyes widen and his body stills, forehead smacking against the tiles as he turns “I-..I didn't mean it..” His voice shivers out between worn down lips, hands trembling at his side.

“Yes you did.” Kenny whispers, digging his nails into the fat of his hips as he steps away from Adam and out of the shower. He feels like he can’t breathe and the pressure in his skull feels like a drumline. It beats out Adam’s confession louder and louder until it's the only thing Kenny can hear, even over his ragged breathing. He shakes his head, leaving Adam standing alone and panicking in the shower.

They avoid each other for the rest of the day until the show starts. They’re both squished in a locker room; Adam sitting on the couch while Kenny slumps over in a chair, staring a hole into the floor. The two of them barely look up when Matt pushes the door open, engrossed in an animated conversation with his brother.

“And so I told him-” Matt’s voice drawls away, eyeing the two of them on opposite sides of the room before staring at Nick with a waring look in his eyes. The door pops closed behind the two of them as they sit on the floor, between the two of them. Kenny looks up, almost like he's surprised to see Nick’s sneakers, highlighter yellow in his eyeline.

“Hey Nicky” Kenny smiles and straightens himself against the chair, chuckling when Nick takes his place on his lap, head tucked sleepily into his shoulder. “Tuckered out hmm?”

Matt speaks from his place on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, before Nick gets his mouth open. “The idiot drank my coffee. Y'know how he is with caffeine, you remember the time in Japan where-'' Matt stops abruptly and Adam looks up from his phone, confusion painted on his face.

Nick looks at his brother and then at Kenny, blue eyes reading their faces before nodding and returning to his brother's side. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Adam answers, too quickly for him to be telling the truth. Kenny glares at him from across the room. Matt rolls his eyes, tapping his finger against the back of his brother's hand. Nick nods and finishes the silent conversation with his brother by standing up, dragging Matt to his feet by his wrist. Almost like they’re on the same path of thought, Matt and Nick turn to leave, Nick squirming out the locker room first, running away like a startled deer as Matt looks over his shoulders; brown eyes narrowed and tired as he glares at the two of them.

“Whatever the fuck has happened, sort it out before out match tonight yeah? We have to win this.” Matt orders, finger wagging between Adam and Kenny before he slams the door.

The two of them are alone again, staring at each other dead in the eyes. Adam worries at the inside of his cheek and Kenny frowns at him.

Silence settles over the room the way a storm settles over the world;thickening the air and wrapping the very air in your chest in anticipation, making it heavy and stone-like at the bottom of your lungs. Kenny takes a small breath of air.

“How long have you known?” He asks, voice thumbling like thunder over the locker room. It strikes Adams ears and his eyes look down at the dry floor, scuffing his boot across the floor. “Adam. How long have you known that you…” Kenny pauses, gripping his hands together. The words stop just behind his teeth, sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“That I love you?” Adam asks rhetorically, voice taking a sour tone as he glares at Kenny from behind his curling eyelashes. “You can't even say it, can you?”

That question isn't rhetorical, his eyebrows raise and he gestures his hand out as if presenting the perfect opportunity for Kenny to spill his heart. In his mind, Kenny pictures Adam holding a dagger and a platter, twirling the blade under the arena lights as he waits for Kenny to rip his shirt open and bare his chest so he can carve his beating heart out. He opens his mouth and closes it again, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, tugging at the fabric of his jeans.

Adams sigh, small and defeated, speaks more words that Kenny has ever heard. It sounds like a gust of wind breaking and snapping the tops of trees and Kenny’s eyebrows pinch together when Adam stands, hand resting sullenly on his shoulder. Kenny follows his eyes up Adam's arm and stares into his eyes, blue eyes flooded in apology. “Adam I-”

“I know Kenny..” Adam looks just above Kenny’s head like he’s looking at something angelic. “I know.” He presses a soft kiss to the middle of Kenny’s forehead and walks himself to the door, his fingers twisting around the door handle.

The door opens and Adam stares at Kenny sadly from the threshold. “I hope you're happy…”

The door closes and Kenny sits alone, staring longingly at the door. “Me too..” He croaks out, eyes downturned to the floor as the overhead light flickers off.

In the darkness, Kenny’s phone lights up from its spot against his suitcase.

⭐ One imaged attached もうすぐ到着します天使

Taglist: @allelitesmut @homoeroticgrappling @dustinslovehandles @paradoxunknown @katries @mrsmatt @echoxshxrx @malewifemoxley @kass-the-kitten @racerchix21 @jacedoe @itsnoosetome @chuckstaylors @old-no7 @thekadster @mandiableclaw @tahiri-veyla

#kenny omega #hangman page #golden lovers #hangkenny #hangmega

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queerbuckleys · 2 years

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STITCH BY STITCH [1.1k | future fic | established relationship] {ao3} a/n: @djdangerlove made this post and well, you all should know how i feel about sewing, so i typed this thing entirely on my phone. it turned soft and gooey established relationship sweetness. oh! and i gave buck a dog, she’s a golden retriever puppy named bailey (i don’t know how old, i don’t know anything. about dogs other than they are soft and cute). anywho enjoy :)

“Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by. Life is like that – one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out all right like the embroidery.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes

when eddie looks up from the couch as the door swings open and buck makes his way around the door, he didn’t expect for his eyes to fall on buck’s face with a harried look in his eye, his curls free and wild the way he leaves them on their days off, his worn shorts that live at the bottom of his dresser as a last resort, and a well loved sweatshirt he swore he lost to the wiles of the station lost and found ages ago- the cuffs torn and unraveling, the hood trying to escape the confines of being attached to the rest. finally his eyes land on the teddy bear clutched in buck’s hand, it looks tiny in his hand, trembling a little.

“buck, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asks gently as he gets up to make his way to where buck has frozen in place.

the tears are just about to fill over the brim and buck just lifts the bear further up. there’s a tear in the red sweater and a small hole threatening the integrity of one of its limbs.

“bailey got a hold of it when i wasn’t looking. jee is going to shun me forever,” buck finally says voice raw. “and i, i didn’t know what else to do.”

“okay, well first- this is fixable. go sit and i’ll grab my emergency sewing kit and get you some water. i’ll be right back,” eddie says squeezing bucks empty hand, bring buck’s knuckles to his lips lightly.

he finds the comprehensive sewing kit that abuela had triple checked he had before she moved to texas, and always asks about at least every other phone call.

as his hands wrap around the little hand made bag he remembers the days he would sit next to abuela carefully studying her hand movements, eventually helping her with small repairs, reattaching buttons and the sort. how adriana and sophia started bringing him their barbie clothes that they ripped when they inevitably were too forceful trying to pull the delicate clothes over the hard plastic of their doll’s bodies. how he would tell his dad that it was all in the name of someday being a doctor. and he had perfected those tiny sutures, leaving the tiny clothes looking nearly as good as new. how eventually his mom would bring him a shirt and a button every few weeks until he left home.

he’s back in the living room, buck ending up on the floor, back against the couch like he sometimes did. the floor being superior for some reason that he didn’t quite all the way understand. he’s holding the teddy in both his hands, staring down at it.

he remembers sitting on their couch in el paso, patching a pair of jeans, sewing a few buttons. chris sitting next him watching him more than the children’s tv show dancing across the screen.

eddie settles in, carefully threads a needle and gently takes the bear from bucks hands, and removes the small sweater and sets it aside. buck hooks his chin over his knee and watches with a familiar intention, following each hand movement with intense focus, his tongue poking out in concentration. eddie imagines if he had a notebook and a pen he would be writing it all down.

he finishes the half dozen stitches, knots off the thread, and clips the tail with the small stork scissors, and hands it back to buck, who holds it like it’s glass, thumb hovering over the nearly invisible seam. the awe written across his face looking from the bear to eddie. his eyes settle on eddie’s hands again as he holds the small sweater in his hands.

“i remember when she was barely bigger than that,” he says softly, “she was so tiny. now she’s almost four.”

“imagine how i feel about chris,” eddie replies, his voice pensive as he studies the small sleeve, pinching the seam together again.

buck’s hand drifts to eddie’s other knee, his thumb ghosting over his knee cap.

the unsaid question floating like a cloud between them.

eddie carefully stitches the seam. his mind wandering to the tiny clothes that filled a tiny dresser in el paso what feels like a lifetime ago.

he finishes fixing the small hole. and just stares at the tiny clothing.

“you think it’ll be weird for chris? being so much older than a sibling?” the question slips out softly before he can capture it.

buck freezes, places the bear on the floor carefully, stands on his knees, his hands resting on eddie’s thighs.

“fuck, i’m sorry i just dropped that on you when it’s barely been 6 months. god i’m-“

“eddie, eddie, honey,” buck rushes gently moving a hand to eddie’s cheek, “it’s okay. i was thinking the same thing.”

“you were?

“yeah, i figure we just ask him ya know? he’s a teenager. besides, i think he’d be all for it. and i mean maddie’s much older than me, and we are close, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“i’m not worried about any of it really.”

“not about us?” he ducks his head a little, “about me?”

“buck, baby. never has there been a day since i told you about our son’s existence that i have questioned your ability to love and cherish every child in your life, and i have witnessed you grow into being a wonderful father to chris, and a partner to me. evan,” and he looks as small and as young as he did the day he first called him by his name, “you have grown into your own beyond your wildest dreams i’m sure- you are good enough.”

“you are one of the reasons that’s true. and eddie, so are you. so are you.”

“but we’re a couple years away from all that.”

“yeah. yeah we are.”

a soft silence wraps around them for a moment, forehead to forehead, just breathing.

“give me the bear. you take this to maddie and chim’s, pick up bailey, while i pick chris up from school, and meet us at the park. then we will have our usual movie night okay?”

“yeah, okay. that sounds good.”

eddie finished buttoning the tiny sweater on to the bear, patting its chest carefully. he runs a hand through buck’ curls and places the bear back in his hands.

p.s. why i included the tidbit about the stork scissors

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royalwriteroftheuniverse · 1 year

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Thanks Captain America part 3

part 2 here / next chapter(part 4) wanna be added to the tag list just message me

18+ just incase Kidnapping implied branding on leg Steve being an ass memories crying sadness angst a little bit of of happiness , lawsuit language Steve surrfering, mentions of stalking and harassment 18+ just incase let me know ow if I missed anything . COMMENTS really appreciated as well as reblogs. No reposting publishing .

Previous chapter

I fell asleep I had to. I was waking up.

While my eyes were adjusting to the sudden yet hazy light I heard a soft

"Hi"

I turn "Hi," I said with a smile.

"When'd you get back?"

"Last night, you were sleeping I didnt wanna wake you."

"So you just thought you'd stare at me until I wake up?"

I turn on my stomach and lean on a folded elbow to face him

"No," he brushes some of my messy bedhead and random curls

"I got some sleep too. I just can't stop thinking about you."

"Hey that's mine line."

"No I believe your line is if I had a dime for everyone that said they were Captain America-"

"It was Halloween give me a break why would Captain America dress as Captain America for Halloween anyway it defeats the purpose."

"What if the purpose was to find a girl whose not into Captain America?"

"Hmmmm still not following. You know I was yours before that. And. I am here with you aren't I?"

"Well yea"

"But those tights do wonders for your Ass."

"That's it Missy you're getting punished."

I fake a incredulous gasp "am I?"

He rolls on top of me.

"Oh you are" he kisses me,

"I love you, so much you know that right?

I hate every second I'm away."

"Yeasure you're just saying that because you have the upper hand here."

His eyebrows pinched together and his eyes were so intense and sweet as he stared.

"No. I mean it. I love you. Why do you think I'm here? The minute we landed. My tact suits' right there. You wanna check the draws or maybe my toothbrush and body wash?"

He laughed into my neck and I giggled.

"Ok okay." My smile faded- something felt off.

"You believe me now baby? How much I love you."

"Yea.”

“How about we go for a walk today."

"But you said-"

"The trail."

"Hmm am I the only one who knows about 'sides you and some odd 90 or 100 year old."

"Yea only you."

"I love you," I threaded my hand through his soft hair. "How about we stay here all day?"

"Come on baby you need sun you were just saying that."

"I was?"

"Yea. You're getting too pale inside for far too long," he peppered kisses on my face. "You need fresh air. You dont get enough and we'll sit under our tree just you and me what do you say?"

He leaned forward putting his forearms crossed and near my collarbone. But he was pressing too much weight on me.

"Steve, you're hurting me.” He was moving it was like he was pressing down harder.

“Steve come on its not funny" it was like he was pinning me down

"Dont you love me?"

It was like me was pinning me down and the man weighs a ton

"What?"

I think his nails were going into my skin.

"Steve stop I don't- Steve?" I shot up sweating I heard laughing outside the door and a steering pain on my calf. And something Dripping.

"Its just sweat" I told myself "just sweat and I must have somehow caught my skin on the bed frame. It wasnt blood it wasnt a burning pain like from a cutling iron or brand- it was sweat and I hurt it on the bed frame." I pulled the blanket up to my neck I didn't look. I never looked.

I remeber that day most of it most of that dream was real. I remember I said why don't we stay here all day and he said you need some vitamin D and I couldn't hold back my laughter at his innocent remark.

But we did go on the trail he held me under thris giant oak tree. He told me my hair looked golden under the sun he even took a picture of me on his work phone. He never did that before. It was a fun day actually. I kept crumbling the leaves next to me on the ground. Steve asked me why I kept doing it. I told him I just thought it was fascinating hoe they were so sturdy and look sturdy and they fall to the ground complete but the tiniest extra push and they just crumble to dust. He grabbed my hands and said "mnmmn no dust no darkness only sunshine for my golden girl." Kissing me. Every kiss me gave me got giggle which was "his favorite classic tune " so that frankly went a long time, but I loved that day.I was so happy.

I still don't understand what he meant by that sunshine and golden girl. Its obvious I wasnt. I'm stuck in here. If he cared he would have found me.

I dreamt of that day that night. It was perfect just like I remember. When I woke up I cried. I mourned my new life, the lies I was told, the harted that filled me and my heart. How could it not. Steve never let anyone be held this long. Any agent he always found within days. Its been what two weeks. I only prayed for Hayden that he wasn't being blamed. But maybe he didn't notice I was gone. Maybe no one did. I hoped that no one got hurt because of me, well no one but Steve. I missed out on love.

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

"Steve you need to sleep." Buck stood in the doorway with Nat

“I can't every time I sleep I dream of her of us and then it turns sour every time to me I betrayed her. Every moment with Rachel.I wish it was Rachel who was taken. Does that make me a horrible person.”

"Yes" Natasha thought.

"Why does it have to be the girl I love so much. She keeps getting taken from me. Why? Why am I being punished."

"because you're a bastered. Ever think if you weren't so obsessed with her and following her no one would've though oh thats Captain America's girlfriend. Maybe they would have left her alone. Ever thought that's why she was taken if she meant that much to you you should've had her shadowed for longer. If she meant that much to you you would have told us about her just like ever other girl you liked." Nat thought. She didn't say it even though she wanted to. He was doing a great job of punishing himself.

Then the Lawyers stormed through the doors. Apprently the night guard slept through them flying up the elevators.

It was a suppona from Hayden's father and lawfirm sappening every single document pertaining to the threats and disappearance. As well as Steve Rogers' cell phone pertaining to a stalking and harassment charge being brought against him. His cell phone was on the table. It was seized before Steve got a chance to crush it. He'd be found guilty he knew. He had tons if pictures of her after they broke ups. Ones he shouldn't have had. But Steve knew her routine he missed her so he followed her daily hoping to be able to talk to her- Is that so wrong? Apprently a grand jury thought so. And so did everyone else

Tony's lawyers were able to easily prove that Steve was the best chance at getting her back. While The Avengers could do it without him the stupid super soilder would run through hell fire and get riddled with bullets to get her back. Tony knew they all knew. Even Hayden knew. So the stipulation was that once she was found and safelt back on the QuinnJet that was if she was found the restraining order would come into play. Granted, it would be a little tricky inside the tower but everyone knew Tony had the best doctors and facilities. And she deserved the best. Tony had promise that Steve would keep his distance and if anything was to occur she would never be alone with Steve. And of course Tony's A.I. would keep track of them both. But it was all what if's and thens because if she didn't come back it didn't mean a thing. Everyone was trying to pitch in but Steve was even protective of this... HE wanted her back with was HIS fault so HE had to fix it. But the longer the time passed the harder it would be. Even Tony stop his teasing.. The most they could hope for now was that she was being taken care of properly treated properly so she could flaunt her as a hostage or that it was quick and painless.

Next chapter(Chapter 4)

Taglist if u want to be added let me know

@nana1000night @sapphire-rogers @hawkeyes-queen @patzammit @sparklybarbarianninja

#avengers #chris evans #steve rogers #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson x female reader #chris evans x plus size reader #ransom drysdale #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans comfort

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blueberrypancakesworld · 8 months

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Your sweet taste

warning : blood, lots of blood, implied relationship between the two, tiny tiny angst if you look closely, humiliation

Info : So this One-Shot is based of another another sweet sketch (This to be more clear) from @pocketwei go check out her blog. And as always have fun reading :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Light streamed through the large, well-built room of the King of Dressrosa. The sun shone through the large windows set into the stone. Filling everything with its light and shining on the pink feather coat.

But it did not hang over the shoulders of the tall blonde. No, the feather cloak lay over a chair, carefully placed so as not to get dirty. The light of the ceiling lamp was switched off and the sun continued to illuminate the room.

It passed over the wooden table where someone else had been sitting a few minutes ago. A small scrape was visible as the man with the golden hoe rose from the table. When the tip of the hoe scraped the wood.

The black-haired man detached himself from him and declared the meeting over. When they could not agree on what to do in the new world. One continued alone the other wanted him for his crew. Even as another prince of Dressrosa.

But once again they could not agree, as usual. Which is why he was against them, but had left a gift for his flamingo. A gift against the heat on Dressrosa. Even if the heat was more pleasant for the crocodile than for the blond.

As he leaned against the table, shirtless, he tried to get a kiss and was left on the left. The sun shone on his upper body and accentuated his muscles. He saw that the crocodile was looking at his body.

Even if they hated each other somehow, there was something between them that no one could deny. Not even the two of them. He wanted the other in the meeting but the crocodile seemed to see it differently.

Not that it was any different in the other meetings, once Crocodile had tried to stab him with a rusty kitchen knife after he had given him an unsolicited kiss. From then on the flamingo knew that the older one didn't like surprises.

But the phone call was no fun and certainly not for Doflamingo. It was no fun for the blond like a child who didn't get his way. ,,I guess I still am for you my dear" he said into the phone as he found himself on the floor of his room.

His back resting against the end of his bed as he continued to give the black haired man his opinion. Continuing to give him what made him boil over with rage.

The blond's already split body seemed to be further destroyed by this. ,,A stupid little kid!" he hissed into the earpiece, cutting the gift with his strings as he saw the pink ice cream in a glass bowl. ,,A child who doesn't mind ice cream," he added hastily, and with his thread took a spoon that was in a drawer at the other end of the room. Sometimes his strength was just practical.

Before he pushed the first spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, a satisfied moan escaped his lips. He would have given anything to see the expression on the crocodile's face. Knowing what, the ringed hand closed around the wineglass.

Knew that the older one's cheeks must have turned pink. ,,You wouldn't believe how much I'd like to see you now," he chuckled and took another spoonful of the ice cream.

He thought he heard a suppressed sigh at the other end of the ear. But whether it was just an excited sound or an annoyed one didn't matter to him either.

It didn't matter because just as he was shoving another spoonful into his mouth, he suddenly felt several stabs from his stomach and neck area. He coughed up and thought nothing of it at first, but not seconds later he felt the metallic taste.

Collecting the taste in his mouth, he spat the blood spitting mixture to the floor seconds later. Astonishment crossed his face and he felt his vein of rage slowly begin to throb.

Wanting to rise, however, he immediately fell to his knees. The sundae fell to the ground with a crash and broke into a thousand small pieces.

The blond winced when he heard the satisfied laughter from above. ,,Smart Croco-" but the blond could not finish his sentence as he doubled over and vomited a gush of blood. What had previously arrived on his stony floor gathered slightly to his disbelief and pain on his right palm.

Held his throbbing, aching sleep with his left hand. Felt his head about to burst and he choked more and more blood and vomited to the floor.

Desperately trying to get up, he collapsed to his knees again. ,,A stupid naive boy...and yet someone had to play a trick on the clown" he heard the voice of the black haired man who suddenly came in through the door.

Manifesting himself from sand, he looked up at the black-haired man. The long black coat, the golden heel Doflamingo knew who was in front of him.

He reached out his bloody hand but vomited blood again and only caught himself at the last moment to avoid lying in a pool of blood. He heard the deprecating click of his tongue as the older one looked down at him.

The younger one had dared to get blood on his expensive black leather boots. ,,Now look at that, sweet and yet so bloomy...shame on you" the black-haired one reprimanded and kicked Doflamingo's hand away so that the blond fell into the blood. The blonde's face, upper body, hands and hair were covered in crimson blood.

But the Joker laughed and spat more blood on the floor before he said amusedly, ,,Shall I lick your shoes clean?" before he held his neck as another pain went through his body. Coughing and regurgitating blood which only made him look more beautiful.

At least in the eyes of the crocodile, it was only fair that the blond lied. He had deserved it, too often he had let the blond get away with everything. Instead, the older man ran his hand through the blond's hair.

Like a pet. Watched with a satisfied look as the blond closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. The older man's fingers humiliatingly smeared the blood on the younger man's face.

Grabbing him by the hair, pushing him back into the blood only to push him away as the blond maniac actually tried to lick the blood from his boots.

He enjoyed the touch before the older man pulled back and gave him one last look. ,,My stupid naive hound...next time I'll watch from the beginning" the older man said goodbye and disappeared into the sand before the blond reached into the void.

But the rapid beating of his heart at the words of the next meeting, he felt a sense of anticipation.

With a dull light sound of the wood of the bed, the blond leaned against it. Coughed and regurgitated the blood further.

Watching it run through his fingers and drip to the floor. Your sweet taste just like me sweet and deadly the blond thought and couldn't help but laugh. It all seemed like a sick bloody joke. But above all, he was damn cute.

~~~~~~~~~~~

#one piece #sir crocodile x doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #sir crocodile #one piece sir crocodile

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sekhithefops · 10 months

Text

Today on "Elon Musk's Mark Zuckerberg's Steady Descent into Madness"

Rejoyce Tweeter Refugees! Threads has launched! Mark's answer to the utter ruination Elon is bringing to your once beloved... well, once tolerated social media platform!

Except... it auto-links to Facebook and Instagram so here's hoping you weren't planning on posting anything you wouldn't want seen by your grandma who still uses Facebook to follow her quilting friends and that nice newscaster who tells it like it is I tell you what sonny.

And there's no option to only see posts in your feed from people you follow.

Infact, there are no options except for the "For You" option basically, which is something about Tweeter I despised so much I actually used addons to permanently remove it from my browser version.

Speaking of, no browser version. What? Don't you guys have phones?

So yeah, its literally just advertising, clickbait, and other bullshit all the way down whether you like it or not.

Mark you nitwit. You had a golden opportunity to give everyone fleeing Twitter a new place to call home and THIS is what you came up with?! O_o

Oh well, I'm sure Tumblr's owners are thrilled at least. >w>

#Twitter is dying #Threads is dead on arrival #Elon Musk is an Idiot #So is Mark Zuckerberg #Seriously what the hell

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myth-blossom · 2 years

Note

For the music fic writing challange, its a missed oppertunity not to do "Golden Hour" by JVKE.

I’ll have you know that I literally typed “OH MY GOD” in my notes when I heard this song for the first time. It’s beautiful! I’ve been imagining this fic idea in my head for the last two weeks and finally had the time to write it out. Hope you enjoy it!

youtube

Twelve months, three weeks, two days.

Diana held firmly in her seat as the plane made contact with the tarmac.

Five calls, two emails, two texts.

Her heels clicked with more confidence than she felt as she left her gate.

47 will be waiting at Baggage Claim.

She wasn’t nervous. No, she was simply curious. It was only fair to be curious.

After all, she was meeting 47 in person, at his request, for the first time since the olive grove in Mendoza. That she was curious was merely an understatement.

Diana and 47 reconnected recently after the fall of Providence, making the decision to work together as equal partners moving forward. They communicated easily through phone and email in recent weeks, but something still felt unresolved. Diana supposed it would stay that way until they saw each other in person again.

Diana slowed her pace as she noticed 47 across the terminal. She felt something flutter in her stomach as they made eye contact. They smiled at each other upon approach like old friends, because it felt familiar and natural. Then they committed to a warm embrace like they were more than old friends, lingering in each other’s arms a handful of seconds longer than necessary. They didn’t mind, though—they always wanted to be something more.

47 offered Diana the fresh coffee he carried, prepared just the way she liked it. She smiled and sipped the hot liquid gratefully while 47 retrieved her luggage from the carousel. She brought two suitcases with her, one large and one small, as well her carry-on. Diana hoped what she packed was sufficient for their mysterious itinerary.

“What exactly am I packing for, 47?”

“It’s a surprise,” he had answered. “Pack enough for at least two days and dress comfortably for your flight.”

Diana wore her favorite pair of heels since those were comfortable for her, though she did pack a pair of running shoes just in case they were necessary. She decided on a cardigan over a nice blouse and a pair of jeans instead of slacks in case she needed the versatility. She seemed to have the right idea as 47 was dressed in a pair of jeans and a Henley top.

47 handled Diana’s luggage as he led her through the airport garage to his SUV. As he loaded the luggage in the back of the vehicle, Diana got comfortable in the spacious front passenger seat. She set her coffee down and noticed a device in the second cupholder. It seemed connected to the radio via Bluetooth, though it was silent at the moment. She looked around and caught sight of a camping cooler and a folded blanket in the backseat.

47 joined her in the front of the vehicle and started the engine. Before he could change gears and exit the parking spot, Diana covered his hand on the steering wheel with hers. She quirked an eyebrow at his curious look.

“Am I allowed to know the plan now?” Diana asked with a teasing smile.

47 chuckled at her question before looking at her hand covering his. He gently moved out from underneath her hand to place his hand on top of hers, caressing her with his thumb before threading their fingers together. He lowered their joined hands on the arm rest between them before returning her gaze.

“I thought we could take a drive together,” he said, gently squeezing her fingers. “I want to show you something.”

Diana took a moment to find her voice. “That—that sounds lovely, 47.”

He nodded with a small smile and reluctantly released her hand, handing her the device in the cupholder. “Then we best get started. It’s a long drive.”

“How long?” She took the device.

“About nine hours, give or take.”

Diana blinked, once again grateful for the coffee and its caffeine. “Was this the closest airport?”

“No,” he said, giving her a smirk as he reversed out of the spot. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fair point.” She smiled and shook her head before examining the device he’d given her. She didn’t mind spending more time with 47. “So what’s this about?”

“Road trips require music.” He switched on the volume. “You’re in charge of choosing what we listen to.”

Diana chuckled and started scrolling through the music library. She chose a song at random and adjusted the volume, grinning as the whimsical tune filled the vehicle.

47 navigated the SUV out of Cluj-Napoca and onto the open road. The day was just getting started and he felt the warmth of the morning sun caressing his face. He looked over at Diana and noticed she was smiling at him. She reached towards the arm rest between them, inviting him to hold her hand again if he wanted. His hand found his place with hers again as he kept his other hand on the wheel. Ever so casually, their hands moved to rest in Diana’s lap as she kicked off her heels and folded her legs underneath to sit more comfortably for the drive.

Diana and 47 journeyed through the countryside for a few hours, appreciating the varying Romanian landscape. They enjoyed the variety of music 47 had supplied on the device, with 47 occasionally tapping his fingers on the wheel to the rhythm and Diana humming (and also singing once, a rare experience he was delighted to have witnessed).

They came upon the pavement of the Transalpina that weaved through the mountains, observing the occasional hiker as they travelled from one scenic view to another. 47 asked Diana if she wanted to stop to eat something along the way, which she welcomed. He pulled over to a side of the road that offered decent space for both the vehicle and a picnic setting.

The immediate edge of the road was rough with a border of jagged rocks, but the ground smoothed out as it led down from their parking spot to a grassy clearing. 47 went ahead to spread out the blanket and set down the camping cooler upon it before returning to Diana. He opened her door and looked down at her bare feet with a chuckle.

“47, I can cross the short distance,” Diana said with a grin, trying to move past him. 47 held up his hand to stop her.

“May I?” He gestured to carry her, to which she nodded in surprise.

“Well, I do have other shoes—“

He paused. “I can get those, if you’d rather—“

“No, no, this is fine. Thank you.”

47 carried a blushing Diana to the picnic blanket. They unpacked the cooler that 47 had supplied with water, wine, and homemade sandwiches & sweets. Diana was especially pleased—it had been a very long time since she had enjoyed his cooking. The weather was breezy but fairly warm as the midday sun perched directly above them. It made for a comfortable setting to lean back and enjoy the seemingly endless stretch of mountains in a companionable silence.

Diana returned to the vehicle in 47’s arms when they decided to continue their journey, holding him closer the second time around. She became lost in thought as she watched him pack the remains of their picnic. She wanted to ask him about the past year, what he did while she tore down Providence from the inside. The subject hadn’t come up just yet in their reunion—such a conversation seemed prudent to have in person than over the phone. Perhaps she would bring it up later with him, after their trip had concluded.

She smiled at 47 as he settled into the driver’s seat. Diana had expected their reunion to be…awkward, perhaps? Emotional? Bittersweet? But it had been none of those things. It was nice and familiar, as if they had taken trips like this hundreds of times. It felt perfectly normal to take 47’s hand into hers, as if she always sought out his warmth in the casual gesture.

Diana didn’t understand why it felt that way, but she didn’t care to analyze it further. She had been without 47 for a long, difficult year. She would enjoy whatever time now that they could have together.

They continued to experience their sights and songs as the journey moved east for nearly five hours. Eventually the traffic disappeared as 47 took them on rougher roadways. Diana realized they were likely nearing the end of their journey and squeezed 47’s hand.

“Why are we here, 47?”

The vehicle slowly came to a stop on the empty road. 47 turned to Diana.

“When we were separated, I had a lot of time to think. I was given a choice, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do with it. Eventually, I came up with an idea.”

“You wanted to come home,” she said knowingly, glancing at the forest around them.

47 nodded. “I spent months and most of my remaining assets making a new start for myself. I had just finished the project when you contacted me.” He returned his focus to the road as the vehicle slowly continued. “I wanted to see you again, and I wanted to show you what I had worked on for so long. That’s why I invited you here.”

They drove to the end of the road where the clearing of trees revealed their destination. Diana’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked over the property, noting the safehouse was built to easily blend in with the surrounding natural environment. It was close enough to the water where a boat was kept ready at the dock, and Diana thought she noticed a helipad nearby as well. She imagined its inner design was beautiful and versatile, just as 47 preferred things to be. Diana was eager to see the rest of the building as 47 parked inside the spacious garage.

“I wanted to show you the house.” He took a deep breath and looked at their joined hands. “You are welcome to stay here, with me, if you’d like.”

Diana’s lips parted in surprise. She took a moment to process the gravity of his offer before squeezing his hand. Diana lifted his chin to meet her gaze.

“Do you want me to stay, 47?”

“Yes.” He paused to search her eyes. “What do you want, Diana?”

She smiled and leaned her forehead against his.

“I want you to show me the house.”

47 closed his eyes and smiled.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

#hitman #hitman fandom #hitman fanfic #agent 47 #diana burnwood #diana/47 #agent 47/diana burnwood #hitman fanfiction #hitman playlist #inspired by hitman playlist #song inspired fic #Golden Hour by JVKE #Songs and Silencers #hitman freelancer

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