#and made this post worse than the fucking sky color hell

[daybreak-mun]

Belated Christmas Presents

... because I have the time management skills of a potato.

Featuring:

Laivan from @asksavel​    I know I��m coming in at the tail end of the story, but what I see, I honestly really like. Looking forward to seeing more of it pop up on my dash!

Rai from @miles-of-muses​    Honestly, roleplaying with you is always pretty fun, even if we don’t really do it as often these days. Your worlds are all pretty interesting to read through.

Neo-Ka from @pokege-ne-project    It’s been a while since I’ve seen these characters in action and I’m excited to see what you have planned for them. You’ve been a great friend over the years, and I really appreciate that. Thanks, Liam.

Cipher from @themeowsticvigilante​    I didn’t see your post about your ruptured appendix until I started this project, but I’m hoping everything goes well! Even though we don’t interact much, I enjoy your characters. The world needs more Meowstics.

Snow from @ask-a-learning-ai    The interactions with Snow I read are pretty good, and while I’ve kind of been in and out of a slump, I’d be down for having our characters interact more in the future. I can definitely see Cherry and Snow being friends.

Mukudori from @ask-a-staravia    It’s pretty interesting to see a take on Legends Arceus that manages to spin it into a different world, but still similar enough to be recognized. Looking forward to seeing more stuff from you in the future.

Shiso from @shaymincafe    You've been a pretty great friend in the few years I've known you, and I always enjoy having our characters interact. I'd be down for hanging out with you and Peaches in FFXIV once I actually catch up.

Kuno + Cucumber from @teamnextgen   I haven't really known you for very long, nor have I really interacted much with you. You seem like a pretty good person, and I'd be down for hanging out at some point.

Luxu from @asktheisle​   I haven't really read your blog, but I enjoy your character designs and general art style. I've heard quite a few good things, so I decided to put this together.

Joule from @dailyashleighraichu Your art is simultaneously a source of serotonin, and pain. I see a bit of my past self in Joule with how she was treated by random people. For me, it didn't really get to that level, but I can empathize with her in some small way.

Elliot from @ask-elliotgang Admittedly, I haven't been able to go back and read through your blog yet, but I can tell there's a lot of work put into this. Figured it'd be a neat idea for Joule and Elliot's cards to be two halves of a larger card here.

Luca from @sphaeramjourney I swear I kept thinking your url is "seraphimjourney", but that's more on me. Your art is always really good and I love the effects in your pages. As with many things in the community, I'm late reading, but I'm liking what I'm seeing so far.

Anyway, Happy New Year everyone!! Here's hoping 2023 sucks less!

Also if any of these blogs would like the full size images, I can DM them on request.

#sorry for the double post quick tags fucking broke the formatting #and made this post worse than the fucking sky color hell #daybreak scribbles #NOW TO REST BECAUSE HOLY FUCK #asksavel #miles-of-muses #pokege-ne-project #themeowsticvigilante #ask-a-learning-ai #ask-a-staravia #shaymincafe #teamnextgen #asktheisle #dailyashleighraichu #ask-elliotgang #sphareramjourney #dragonair #pikachu #eevee #meowstic #vulpix #alolan vulpix #staravia #shaymin #armaldo #darkrai #lucario #long post #tw long post #Edit: Fixed Elliot's design because I forgot some of the details even though I- I literally put them in the freaking sketch--

[deaddemondonteat]

CW: referenced previous noncon, bodily discharge, post noncon recovery, start of Whumpee conditioning, food restriction/starvation, mention of gun fucking, kinda stockholm-y, past domestic abuse mention Words: 4599 Characters: Aziphem and Kotarou A follow up to this fic Major thank you to @burntcoffeewhump and @quietly-by-myself for beta reading!!!!

The sky had shifted from black to the earliest hints of morning blue by the time Kotarou stirred beneath him, disrupting the sensitive flesh inside Aziphem. Of course, the demon had moved about throughout the sleepless night, debating over any possibility of escape. But even in his drunken haze, the angel still responded to every motion. As it was, Aziphem couldn’t risk it, he would not survive a punishment after all of this. Not with the way his eyes leaked tears every time he felt the cold stain of his squirt on the bed.

Kotarou slowly came to, undoubtedly hung over if not possibly still drunk. After a few sluggish moments, he must have registered the gravity of the situation. Aziphem felt every muscle in the angels thin frame tense under him and steeled himself for round two. Now that the angel didn’t seem to have any more issues fucking him, that seemed to be the only natural next step.

Instead, Aziphem was roughly pushed off, slumping to the side with a whimper as a thick mixture of cum and whatever discharge his agitated body had made started to dribble out of his cunt. Whining slightly at the new emptiness, he covered himself the best he could so as not to invite further intrusions.

It almost felt worse to be cast aside, and for a moment Aziphem yearned for the angel to hold him again. At least when they’d fucked, Kotarou had cradled him close and made him feel safe.

 But he wasn’t safe. Aziphem had upset the angel; he must have for him to be thrown aside like this. As with any other failure, he would be forced back into his cell, left alone with his grumbling stomach and aching body—

“Hey—hey, don’t cry, little demon.”

Aziphem hadn’t noticed he was crying. Not until Kotarou’s cool fingers brushed across his thick lashes, taking the tears away with them.

“Come here. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Not even the angel’s painfully cool touch could temper the burning self-hatred elicited at wanting his help. But that didn’t stop Aziphem from leaning into it. 

Kotarou gently lifted him up, Aziphem uncharacteristically docile in his grasp as he was pulled into a standing position. His legs had numbed from the awkward position, unsteady beneath him. Despite the pins and needles, Aziphem nevertheless could still feel the shameful trickle of cum down his thighs. 

“Bathroom,” Kotarou commanded. The angel snatched a dirty shirt, the same one he had stripped off the night before, swaddling it around Aziphem’s crotch to stem the dribble. “It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re alright.” 

Aziphem knew he was filthy, the cotton shirt between his legs getting sticky from the walk of shame. From the angel’s bedroom he had been fucked in to the small bathroom couldn’t have been more than thirty steps, but with numb legs giving away below him and the angel's hands between his legs those thirty steps were a fight.

“Sit.” Kotarou’s voice held firm as he opened the bathroom door, plopping the small demon on the toilet. 

Aziphem crumpled onto the seat, sobs heaving in his chest but refusing to leave. It was a surprisingly normal bathroom to be having this level of breakdown in, yet here he was, staring down at a sunflower patterned bath mat trying to choke back sobs as stringy goo dribbled out into the toilet. 

Curse that fucking angel, with his pretty house that Aziphem once considered safer than the labs. Curse the colorful tile in the shower and quaint paintings and all the pretty little things that made this hell more humiliating.

At least it’s not the lab showers.

The old house creaked around them, amplifying the quiet little hiccups that caught in Aziphem’s throat. Everything hung in near silence, allowing the two a quiet moment. Aziphem shrunk in on himself, wishing he was truly as alone as he felt. 

Kotarou watched from the door frame, holding his soiled shirt. Aziphem could see the stain, dark with what he assumed was his blood, and for a moment was thankful for the angel’s help. Better there than on his legs.

“You won’t cause any problems if I let you shower alone, will you?”

Aziphem shook his head. For once, he found that he didn’t have it in him to cause problems.

“Alright. I’ll be right outside.”

The door shut quietly and Aziphem collapsed. 

Crunching up on the toilet seat, he couldn’t help but sob silently. He smothered a whimper, knowing Kotarou would be lingering outside the bathroom door. Why did the angel have to be so gentle with him? Why couldn’t he just use him the way Haziel did?

Aziphem winced, shaking his head at the thought of that. He barely kept it together being tossed aside on the bed. Being locked in his cell now would be messy to say the least. Yet his thoughts kept falling back to the way he had been held and comforted, Kotarou’s arms around him. He was, for just that moment, loved. Just the thought sent a warmth through his chest. A prickly self hatred tainted warmth, but it was comforting nonetheless.

No. He had to think rationally here, and rational thinking brain did not to play gentle lover to the man who just raped him. 

At least he had been gentle.

“Shuddup—” Aziphem mumbled aloud, as if that would get the voice in his head to oblige.

“Are you alright?” Kotarou really hadn’t left the door, had he? Aziphem looked up to see it cracked open, a long, glasslike strand of hair leading up to a sliver of Kotarou’s genuinely concerned face.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Aziphem hardly believed himself and the angel didn’t either. They both knew one good hug would have him whimpering into Kotarou’s chest again.

“You don't seem fine. Do you need—”

“The fuck do you think? No! No I’m not!” Forcing the tiny remaining spark of anger back into his lungs, Aziphem yanked the toilet paper roll from the hanger beside him and hurled it with the sole intention of getting that door shut. “Now piss off!”

Silence, as the angel considered his reaction. Aziphem braced himself for the door to be flung open, for a slap to the face that did not come. A pause. A deep breath. A sigh.

“If I don’t hear the shower in five minutes I’m coming in and helping you.” The small crack in the door shut, leaving him in false solitude.

“I said, piss off!” Aziphem shouted, the anger fizzling away as he did so. At least he wasn’t getting punished today. Apparently getting fucked was a get out of jail free card.

…Could he use that to get out of other things?

Fuck-no. No—that was a bad path to go down. 

As Kotarou’s footsteps receded from the door, Aziphem stood up. He wiped his still dripping cunt to the best of his ability before making it the five steps to the shower and shutting the frosted glass door behind him. After a few frustrating moments of messing with the nobs, frigid water finally sprayed from the shower head, dousing Aziphem under the icy flow.

Cold water after sex was normally a punishment from Haziel, but for now it was the distraction he needed. At least he wasn’t in the lab showers… 

The lab showers was a horrible place, a cold steel box with a hose meant for spraying down unruly subjects. Whenever Haziel needed to hide the evidence of what he did, that’s where Aziphem would be cleaned inside and out. Here, even if the water was cold, it was… gentle. 

The drops bounced lightly off his skin instead of leaving painful welts. Instead of seeing his own broken reflection staring back at him from a steel wall he glanced out the small opened window to stare at the sky. He knew what this meant, being given a shower here. Bribing Kotarou with sex would get him nice things, he just wasn’t sure he was ready to pay that toll.

But it got you out of the lab showers.

Aziphem forced his head under the icy water again, trying to wash out the thought. This wasn’t worth being fucked for, no matter how gentle the angel had been as he did it.

The cold water helped, but it had begun to outstay its welcome. Finally realizing how to turn up the heat, Aziphem busied himself with cleaning up. Everything about him stunk of sex and stale sweat. And there was of course the problem that he was still fucking dripping. He had hoped that would just—wash away. But no; he realized with a sinking feeling that he was going to have to deal with it. 

Refusing to look between his legs, Aziphem tilted his head up as he washed. Even the thought of his own fingers made him shudder, a reminder of how the angel had so gently brushed against him and teased him open. But he needed to wash himself. Otherwise Kotarou would do it for him and Aziphem did not want those fingers anywhere near him. Being cautious with his claws, Aziphem gently slid two fingers into himself.

Sensitive flesh met sharp talons and the demon winced, leaning against the tile wall to steady himself. His agitated pussy pulsed softly around the new intrusion, unwilling to relax even to his own touch. Of course, he didn’t touch his body much. It wasn’t really even his own body anymore; it was Kotarou’s now.

It had always been Kotarou’s. The angel had just decided to switch from slicing it open to fucking it. 

A nice change.

The door opened again, Kotarou’s pale silhouette moving behind the frosted glass barrier. Aziphem braced for him to pull open the shower door, tail wrapped defensively around his waist. Yet the intrusion never came; instead, Aziphem heard a porcelain clunk and the quiet rustling of fabric being placed on the now closed toilet lid.

“Towel and clothes. Meet me outside when you’re dressed.”

The door shut. Aziphem was alone again.

Clothes? Aziphem leaned out of the shower to snatch the neatly folded pile of fabric. He had expected his usual hospital gown, yet instead a pair of boxers and a large button up shirt went tumbling to the floor as he yanked the towel out from the bottom of the pile. 

Judging by the size, they were Haziel’s boxers, a realization that caused Aziphem to snort in amusement. It wasn’t like he would pass up a clean pair of underwear—a commodity he rarely got—but still, the idea of Kotarou raiding Haziel’s closet was entertaining. 

Even if everything was a little too large, the clothing nevertheless left Aziphem feeling closer to a person than he had in years. 

Pausing by the door, Aziphem adjusted the buttons of the gifted shirt over and over, hoping he could get around the fact he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. It was warm and safe in the bathroom. He could not say the same for outside.

He was almost relieved when Kotarou came for him. For a moment after the angel yanked the door open unannounced, the two stared at one another. Kotarou towered over Aziphem, yet his brow was not furled in its normal show of contempt. He was… softer. Apologetic?

Unrestrained and with some of his dignity returned, the power dynamic was disrupted. He was not Subject 011, Kotarou’s property, or even a demon. This morning Aziphem was a poor hook up decision made in a drunken stupor, just as he had been many times in his human life. And just like all of those men he met at bars, Kotarou was trying to show him enough decency to maybe earn himself another free fuck.

Aziphem always gave his number to the men who treated him alright afterwards. The sex was always mediocre but in exchange for being held, kissed, cared about enough to have breakfast made for him? Absolutely worth it.

Maybe this is worth it.

“I was concerned.” Kotarou broke the silence. His hair no longer stuck to his skin and he had thankfully put on a pair of soft, pajama-like pants, albeit without a shirt. “You were quiet. I wanted to make sure you didn't need help.”

See? He cares.

No. No. Aziphem had to force his thoughts out of the warm lull of letting the angel help him. Scrunching his face into a scowl, he pulled his lips back to remind the angel of his teeth. Eyes locked up onto Kotarou’s gaze, he snarled, “That’s a first.”

Kotarou opened his mouth, but bit his words. So, getting fucked really did give Aziphem a pass to say whatever the fuck he wanted. The angel seemed to ponder for a moment, surprising Aziphem when he finally spoke.

“I’m glad to see you’re regaining your composure. Although I will ask that you watch your tongue.” He stepped back, gesturing the demon through the doorway. “I made you breakfast.”

“Like a gentleman?”

“Do you want it or not?”

“Yes.” Aziphem was too quick to respond, an eager nod accompanying his word. He was starving, as per usual. Any breakfast, even if it was Kotarou’s weird vegan bullshit, was more than merely accepted.

It was fish, pan fried and coated in… some sort of sauce that Aziphem couldn’t tell by scent alone. The smell curled through the house, leading him through the large rooms and inviting him towards the small kitchen. Everything he walked past was old, from the wooden beams holding the place up to the woven mats underneath Aziphem’s toes. Even the furniture was old, a mishmash of things from around the world with nothing less than 70 years old. Aziphem eyed an antique velvet sofa, remembering the one his mom had used to knit on. Hers was ancient then, some 60 years ago. 

“Keep moving.” Kotarou’s fingers were gentle like his voice, a firm touch guiding Aziphem on towards the kitchen. Even unrestrained, this was his reminder that he was on a short leash.

The kitchen too was old, lacking modern appliances, but had at least been updated to this century. A wood burning stove warmed the small room, radiant heat still touching Aziphem as he sat on the chair the angel pulled out for him. Even through the boxers, cold wood ground against his inflamed cunt, forcing Aziphem to shift to try to find a comfortable position. His pained whimpers caught the attention of Kotarou, who wordlessly took a folded towel from a stack, lifting the demon slightly to place it on the seat. Aziphem didn’t even have it in him to object to the manhandling. 

He had been right about the fish though. Two salmon filets with sauce, rice, pickles, soup, and even those stupid bean things the angel was always telling him were good for him. A full hot breakfast, more than he had been offered in a long time.

See? He cares about you. He wants you.

He feels guilty, Aziphem thought, angrily shoving that voice aside. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to swallow that deep need in his chest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but yearn for that gentle care. 

At Aziphem’s hesitation, Kotarou motioned to the place setting in front of them. “I didn’t know if you preferred utensils.” The angel had laid a fork next to a pair of chopsticks and a heavy helping of napkins, as if he expected Aziphem to eat with his fingers. “Haziel doesn’t know how to use these and you two are close enough in… time period and place.” He wrung his hands, explanation fizzling on his lips. 

“My college roommate was Vietnamese. I know how to use fucking chopsticks.” Aziphem lifted the chopsticks, out of practice but still competent, and began to dig into the salmon. “And unlike Haziel, I have a little class. Don’t live in my fucking car and only eat things deep fried or barbequed.”

This seemed to give Kotarou pause. “You–went to college?” 

“Yeah? I’m sorry, does that make you uncomfortable to remember I was a regular person, what, 50 years ago? More?” Aziphem taunted, but stayed careful not to overstep. The warm salmon melted in his mouth, some of the best food he had had in years. It was rich, fatty, salty, and not worth losing over a little snark.

You should behave better. You don’t want to lose this.

“Sorry. I am out of line.” Aziphem bowed his head, chewing quietly. It was dangerous to be so aggressive. He was still sore from what he had done to earn this breakfast and couldn't risk having it taken away.

“Perhaps. But I am not bothered by your answer.” The angel was lying, Aziphem could tell by the way he broke eye contact, insistent at looking anywhere else.

That just made the fish all the more delicious, knowing that Kotarou was uncomfortable while he ate. Indulging in his victory meal, he began on the tangy pickled vegetables and some rice. The angel, on the other hand, simply palmed his coffee.

“What did you study?” Kotarou finally asked, having composed himself. 

“Gen Ed. I was planning on architecture but, well, you know what happened next,” Aziphem managed to say through a full mouth. It amused him to watch Kotarou squirm just a little.

“Not fully.” 

“You’re prying again.”

Kotarou finally lifted the coffee he had been staring into up to his lips. “You never gave me a full answer.”

Aziphem shook his head, swallowing a large bite of rice. “And I won’t.”

“Little demon—”

“Will you stop with that ‘little demon’ bullshit?” Aziphem snapped, smacking his chopsticks down hard enough to crack the thin wood. Every quiet whisper in his head told him to shut up. To deal with it.

Be his little demon.

 No he would not. Aziphem forced his aggression to the front, snarling at Kotarou. “I know you are—fucking thousands of years older than me, but for fuck’s sake, please remember I am a grown ass man!”

No. Shut up. Don’t fuck this up!

Kotarou’s jaw clenched, the disciplinarian Aziphem knew well showing his face again. “Watch your tone demon or so help me—”

Every instinct screamed at Aziphem to cower. This was behavior that got him hit. He needed to shut up but that ever-present defiant streak gnawed in his chest, pushing him forwards. 

“Or what? You gonna fuck me back into my place like Haziel does?”

Aziphem immediately flinched, eyes closed and arms wrapped around his head when Kotarou raised his hand. He knew it, the angel was going to hurt him again. And that was how it was supposed to be, none of this gentle eating breakfast nonsense.

You earned yourself this.

But the strike never came.

Not that Kotarou hadn’t been intending to hit him. When Aziphem dared to look up, he could see that the angel still had his hand clenched, ready for a back-handed strike. For some reason though, he was forcing himself not to go through with it.

He cares enough not to hit you. Even if you fail him.

Tears welled up in the corners of Aziphem’s eyes, the intrusive thoughts he had been holding in since Kotarou first cradled him in his arms starting to take control of his conscious mind. After all the violence, all the pain he had suffered from the angel, he had finally learned how to make it stop. Just let himself get fucked. He got breakfast, a real shower, and now even mercy? Aziphem almost wanted to get fucked again. At least Kotarou made the fucking feel good.

He’s gentle. He’s kind. He makes you breakfast. You want this.

“Aziphem. I’m not going to fuck you.”

No.

Why not?

You fucked it up.

“N-no no please—please—” Aziphem immediately started backpedaling, stumbling over his words. He had gone too far insinuating Kotarou would fuck him again, and that it was a bad thing. Even if he wasn’t convinced it was good to be fucked, it was better than being cut open and beaten. And gods, his stomach was full! He was clean by his own hand.

You could be eating breakfast and sleeping in a bed if you knew how to keep your fucking mouth shut.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line. I’m glad you’re doing this—” No he wasn’t. The words stopped on his lips, unsure of their own honesty. He was glad he was fed and clothed but… he didn’t want to get fucked.

Maybe he could even make Haziel stop. Keep you to himself.

That Aziphem did want and the words started to pour out again. “I’m sorry—I don’t mind—I don’t mind at all—” Anything. He would gladly be gently fucked and cuddled if it meant never being raped with that holy gun again.

Beg. 

Of course Aziphem had to beg for the angel. Fighting had already lost him these privileges, he would have to perform if he wanted them back. He curled up to spread his knees, pressing the rough fabric of haziel’s boxers against his cunt to make it visible. He needed to show the angel what he could have, entice him.

Bowing his head, Aziphem finally spoke: “Please. Please. You can fuck me.”

Beg and hope he forgives you.

“I want you to fuck me—” the half truth spilled away into honesty, choked sobs interrupting Aziphem’s words. “I want to eat. I want breakfast and showers and—please, please just—”

You could be good for him.

“I’ll be your little demon.”

Aziphem covered his eyes, unable to look at Kotarou as he pleaded. Just spread your legs. Use what you have to get what you need to survive.

This is nothing new for you.

Daunte.

Nekcra.

Haziel.

At least Kotarou cares enough to clean you up and feed you.

“Please.” Aziphem’s eyes overflowed as he tried to look up at Kotarou, hiccupping and choking on his sobs. Snot dribbled down with the tears, making a mess of the shirt. “Please. I like it here, in this house. I like being able to eat and shower and have clothes. I like being able to see the outside—even through a window. I want to stay.”

The demon sniffled in the silence, waiting, hoping for a good response. He was too tired to keep fighting and honestly, he felt human again. He couldn’t lose that.

“I’m sorry. I need to take you back to the lab.” Kotarou set his coffee cup down, rubbing the handle as he contemplated his next words. “I think it’s what's best for both of us.”

It was like the chair was being pulled from underneath Aziphem. His knees pressed together and his tail wrapped around them, shaking from the thought of going back. He couldn’t—just—go back to being cut open. Not after he realized what he could have. 

“Don’t—don’t you want to fuck me? Wasn’t I good for you last night?” he mumbled, covering his head.

“No. Last night should not have happened. I was drunk.” Aziphem could hear the angel standing up, quiet footsteps leading up to a hand between his shoulder blades. “It won’t happen again.”

The cold realization took a moment to settle, shifting inside of Aziphem. Much like the cold water of before, this at least shocked him out of his head enough to think somewhat clearly. Kotarou was going to bring him back to the lab, not fuck him. Maybe he could appeal to him another way.

“Please, angel, Kotarou. I don’t want to go back to the lab.” Aziphem forced his breath to calm, unfortunately with the help of the angel’s gentle back rubs. “And—I don’t want you to fuck me.”

“I assumed you did not want that.” Kotarou’s voice was soothing, comforting even, allowing Aziphem to breathe a little better. They were at least on the same page. “You are not in a healthy mental state to be making decisions about what you want and it would be irresponsible of me to assume you know what you’re asking for.”

“I am fine. Just—I… I like being fed. I like having clothes. I like being in your home. And I like all the other privileges you’ve given me today.”

“I know. And you’re learning well how to earn them.” Kotarou’s hand trailed up, running through Aziphem’s hair and moving to gently stroke the sensitive horn. Reluctantly, Aziphem leaned into it, closing his black eyes. “You can be good for me in the lab, and you will earn these privileges again.”

“But you’re trying to make me human again—angel—I don’t want to be human,” Aziphem managed to murmur, rubbing his eyes to clear the blurry tears that had started to form again.

“This is how humans are treated.I thought you liked this.”

The weight of those words hung over the kitchen table, remaining even as the angel removed his hand. He did like feeling human. Aziphem’s thoughts jumbled around in his brain, fighting for dominance. For the last five years—no, for as long as he had been a demon, he had been defiant. What was he supposed to do now?

Just give in.

Memories of his human life pushed to the forefront of his mind, how he had bent to Daunte’s abuse and became complacent. Before that, how he let his boyfriends control him. It hurt to bend and it hurt to break, but now that he saw what it could be...

It will be different this time.

“How about I let you have the rest of the day here?” Kotarou’s voice broke his spiraling thoughts, dragging Aziphem back to reality and returning him to see the angel place a cup in front of him. Coffee. A bribe. One Aziphem planned to accept. “Finish your breakfast, walk around, you can even go outside in the garden. You’ll know if you’re getting too close to the barrier.”

Aziphem tried to mumble a thanks but the words stuck in his throat. Lifting the coffee, he sipped it quietly before speaking. “Why are you doing this? This is more than just guilt.”

“You’re right.” Kotarou moved his dishes to the small sink before facing Aziphem again. “But, seeing as you are in no shape to fight, I want to take advantage of this. Give you a taste of what you can get if you behave. An… incentive to work with me in the lab. If you like what you get today, and you let me run this week of tests, I will let you spend the weekend here. You’ll get the guest bedroom and I will cook for you. Think on it.”

Kotarou quietly turned, stepping out of the doorway before poking his head back in for one last remark. “This is how humans get treated. And the more successful my research is, the more human you are, the more I promise you will get to enjoy this.”

With that, Aziphem was alone again with his thoughts.

He wanted to be mad, of course. His first thought was to hurl the glazed ceramic mug at the wall and shatter it, but that would involve spilling his coffee. And get him sent back early. 

Maybe he wanted to be sent back.

It was easier to fight in the labs, when he had nothing to lose. Pain brought out the spark in him that fueled his constant defiance, made it so he could always hate that fucking angel. But here? He had coffee to lose. Food. Clothes. That comfort smothered his spark and for a moment, he had to wonder.

Was this worth becoming human again?

NSFW tag: @burntcoffeewhump @quietly-by-myself @andithewhumper @whumpsday @whump-queen @kixngiggles @emmettnet @honeybees-125 @just-a-silly-little-whumper @whumpifi @lonesome--hunter @chaotic---calm @coyotehusk

#NSFWhump #NSFWhump writing #Aziphem #Kotarou

[rahleeyah]

Okay, so. Sparked by Ed Balls day…

I know nothing about Tumblr history and lore outside of what I have learned from your blog. Truly nothing. So I want *you* to know the power you have here. I would 100% believe anything you made up in this regard. Honestly, even the real stuff (something about the election?) sounds kinda far-fetched and made up anyway, you know?

Anyway, happy Ed Balls day, Leah. Hope it’s the best one yet.

this is the funniest thing oh my god thank you so much for this. tumblr loves a holiday it must be said. neil banging out the tunes day. bruno mars looking at pete wentz day. ed balls day. we love a calendar. and we love our lore. there's something sort of unique about the way tumblr clings to and celebrates the past and still shares in jokes and memes from ten years ago; memes do not die here. do you love the color of the sky still crosses my dash. people still cracking my immortal jokes. just this past week i saw an in depth post about the bone stealing witch - who apparently didn't steal any bones she just collected them after they washed up from heavy rains??? i've been here a long time and i know the ancient texts and they all sound absolutely unhinged out of context, i can't imagine just like, catching a glimpse of a post referencing human pet guy and just going about your day.

oh god the election. ok i'm sorry but lemme just tell you about this real quick. on nov 5 2020 i went out on a date for the first time since covid started. it was a thursday. two days after the election but all the votes were still being tallied bc there were so many mail-ins. the count was in chaos - i'm sure you remember that part. i went out for drinks with a pretty girl and i came home to discover 1) there was a rumor that putin had resigned 2) castiel had confessed that he loved dean and was immediately shot straight into superhell (worse than regular hell, apparently) and 3) georgia went blue. tumblr was in a fucking uproar. the posts were so beautiful. i don't think you can understand really how much supernatural means to tumblr, even the people who've never seen a fucking episode, without having lived thru it. the next 48 hours (bc the election was officially called for biden on saturday the 7th) was the most chaotic time i've ever had on tumblr. we were all feral and truly alive for once.

ANYWAY back on topic - this delights me. i hope that you find this shit entertaining lmao

#anonymous

[face-palming-fox]

meh my dinner said ‘feel miserable bitch’ so now i wanna lay down instead of be productive like i planned..

and instead i’ma do a l’il bitchin’ post cos i’m a bit grumpy today after glancing a video about something i was looking forward to. but over all, i think it’s just kinda really sad and disappointing there is like... absolutely zero reason to look forward to shit anymore? or be excited about things? because as soon as you get invested into it... it goes to hell or something happens to leave a bad taste in your mouth about it.

kinda ridin’ off of my disappointment of sky cotl yesterday, cos the fact i spent real money for in game items that i THOUGHT i was getting and yet you still need to spend IN GAME currency as well to even reap any rewards from your real money is a fucking scam. and i normally don’t spend money on IAP/microtransaction games and gacha like this cos.. it’s all a scam and i got more important things to spend my cash on but when i do get excited about something and justify spending a l’il cash this is the reward i get? i have to grind away to get anything? i mean there’s a lot they grant you with the money.. if you can unlock it.. but yeesh. not a good look when i was feeling pretty good about the game and it’s balancing. it’s worse than i thought under the surface.

but today’s gripe is... it’s been what.. two.. three.. idk how many years now of hazbin/helluva branding and advertising and merch selling and what not. i’m not even excited about either series now. people argue that ‘oh don’t be made about the changes in hazbin, they did it in helluva’ they didn’t change every voice actor, very few had design changes and it stayed relatively the same as the pilot. not to mention it was hyped less (imo) and advertised/merch sold less than hazbin. i glanced a vid today talking about helluva update and drama. apparently there’s legal issues preventing it from moving forward plus a lot of va’s have crossed over doing hazbin too which.. feels like??? bad planning on productions part? like why would you have one team of cast working on two shows? you could’ve oh idk.. kept the original cast of hazbin who a lot weren’t in helluva as far as i know.. and had two shows releasing side by side without much waiting but y’know what do i know about anything.

as far as the redesigning... why are they even redesigning them? i see everyone so hype about the redesigns and what not and.. i just think they’re completely stupid and useless. literally angel and alastor didn’t change really at all (except i hate angel’s white gloves.. his arms/hands are white.. why give him why gloves as well? the red contrasted with his body..) and they prolly made those decisions because all hell would’ve broken loose if they had change their original designs too much being the most popular charas. i do like charlie’s hair more in the redesign, it makes more sense and looks better visually, i miss her dark eyes because yes she’s a demon but i think it gave her that doe-eyed hopeful look since she’s not like.. (as far as we’ve seen) an EVIL demon? so the red eyes just kinda don’t make sense to me but w/e, i don’t hate them.

but what doesn’t make ANY sense to me at all.. is making everyone look the same. take away the contrast, put vaggie in the same color palette... who else is just gonna be red/black/white instead of having unique design and looking like separate charas. like if it was just a hotel uniform costume? okay sure. but... why did they take her clothes design away completely? (i’m not much of a fan of vaggie anyway) idk. it’s getting to the point where i feel like i should give these two series the ‘voltron’ treatment and just.. not watch anymore so i don’t absolutely hate the show for every choice they’ve made that put it in the toilet.

i love so many charas and it’s rare when i like a bunch of charas in a show rather than a select two or three so.. kinda just feels like they’re shooting these two shows in the foot. i’ve already been a bit sus of v/ivzie anyway cos i’ve seen rumors float around about her here and there anyway but it’s the internet as well so i dunno what exactly all that’s about but damn man.. can i have anything to enjoy/look forward to/continue to be a fan of?

[luffles424]

Sunrise

☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader

☼ Genre: angst, fluff, smut, angst with a happy end, post breakup au, actor!seokjin, fashion designer!reader, exes to lovers

☼ Count: 9.5K

☼ Warnings: 18+, accusations of cheating, poor communication, some arguments (the relationship at the end can be seen as turning toxic as communication breaks down, so be aware if you think that may now work for you or just need to be prepared), heartbreak, non-explicit description of panic attack, moments of emotional shut down

Smut warnings: teasing, soft sex, nipple play, body worship, oral (f recieving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (stay safe pls!), dirty talk, exhibitionism, bratty reader, rough sex, manhandling, bruising

☼ Summary: It’s been well over 10 years since you and Seokjin broke up. You’ve been doing fine. Until one night a dream rocks you to the core and you find yourself in a place from the past. Have you really moved on?

Has he?

☼  Newly added epilogue: Moonlight

☼ a/n: This is told both in the present and past, the flashbacks are in italics! The flashbacks also aren’t in order, but I believe they’re pretty easy to follow when they would fall chronologically.

Inspired by the 2000s emo playlist I listened to as work (especially Jamie All Over by Mayday Parade) Sorry if the tags seem a little scary, I’d rather overtag than have someone get blindsided while reading. But I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

The cool breeze washes over you, bathing you in the salty ocean air. It seems you found the perfect time to come out here. The light jacket you wore more than enough to keep you warm on such an unexpected trip. The sky is slowly being painted in pinks and purples and oranges as the sun slowly starts to sink into the horizon, small wisps of fluffy, white clouds occasionally obscuring the sunlight. You’ve always loved seeing the sunset out here. The colors reflecting off the ocean and leaving everchanging patterns before you. You’ve based plenty of designs on sunsets. 

The dress you wore to your first fashion week is still your favorite. The penultimate meeting of sunset and night sky. The outside was ombre layers of soft chiffon, shades of oranges and pinks and small bands of light purples. It pooled around your feet, you liked to think it made it seem like you had risen from the waters of a sunset reflection. The halter bodice wrapped around your neck in a shimmery, golden band. Hanging from the choker were thin golden chains, draped and connected to a golden belt at your waist. 

For all appearances, it appeared like just a sunset colored dress. But when you walked, or pulled the fabric apart at the slit in the front, it revealed a glittering deep purple fabric, speckled like a swirling galaxy. It had been the ultimate combination of the theme of yours and Hoseok’s collection, sun and moon. The dress still hangs in your closet, one of the few extravagant pieces you’ve held on too. You want to wear it again, you just have to find an occasion to do so. The dress deserves it. 

The scene before you specifically was what inspired it. Maybe not this spot specifically. There were a lot of memories tied to this spot that you tried not to think about typically. But you’ve always loved visiting the beach. Or lakes. Anywhere you could go and watch the sun sink into the water. Watch an uninterrupted sky blend colorfully with the water.

You can’t believe you’re back here though. It’s been easily more than 10 years since the last time you were at this beach, which is a drastic change from back then from when you came here all the time. Taking a seat on the bench beside you, you smile, a little sadly, as your fingers trace over the heart carved into the wood, weathered from years in the elements and use. But the letters are still clear enough and you skip over your initials, letting your fingertips trace the ‘ksj’ as you think on when they were put there. 

 The smile on his face is bright, as bright as the glint of sunlight off the small pocket knife in his hand. 

Your combined giggles fill the fresh spring air, the beach fairly deserted since you skipped your last two periods of school to come here. You hadn’t put up much of a fight when he made the suggestion during lunch. Your grades are good enough and it’s the last weeks of high school, you can miss a few class periods to have some fun, to spend some time together before university. Just in case you don’t get into the same one.

The scratch of the blade against the wood is softer than you expect, a gentle scratch, scratch, scratch as he meticulously and carefully carves your names into the wood. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and you fight the urge to coo at how cute he is. Doubling down on keeping quiet when you know doing so would also result in him being overly macho to prove he wasn’t cute. Not because he doesn’t believe he’s cute or anything, but he knows how much the faux display makes you laugh. You don’t want to interrupt his work when this seems so important to him.  

Finally he looks up from his work, proudly gesturing to the carving on the bench. 

“That’s so cheesy.”

With an exaggerated pout, he gives you the saddest eyes he can muster. “I worked so hard on this for you. As a testament to our love!”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his jutted lower lip. “Well, I didn’t know it was so serious. My apologies.”

 A few more kisses and he’d promptly forgiven you and the two of you had spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach, taking blurry pictures on your flip phones. You’re positive that a printed version of one of those photos still lives in a box somewhere, where you didn’t have the heart to throw it away and so it’s stayed in a box of memories that moves with you but you never really look through. 

 You’re so tired when you finally get home. It doesn’t even feel like home anymore. You’ve spent more time either in the studio or with Jimin or Hoseok or at work than you have here. And you know from the times that you are here that Seokjin is gone just as often as you. It doesn’t even feel like you’re in a relationship anymore. It hurts to think about that. 

So you’d thought summer would be the perfect time for the two of you to rekindle your relationship. Fix whatever problems you were having, free from the stress of finals. But with senior year quickly approaching, everything seems to have just gotten worse. You can never seem to catch Seokjin to start the process of fixing anything. 

To your surprise, when you open the door you find Seokjin sitting on the bed, face pinched as he stares at something on his phone. Maybe this will finally be the opportunity to talk and start fixing things. You miss him, body cold and numb the nights you fall asleep here alone, always waiting and waking up disappointed. 

Before you can say anything, his head lifts and the cold glare he sends you stops you in your tracks. What could possibly have happened to make him give you that look? You know the two of you have been having some problems, but nothing that would warrant that look.

“Where the hell were you?” His tone is as icy as his eyes. 

You frown, gesturing vaguely towards the fridge. “Work. I put my schedule up so you knew.” He didn’t have the same courtesy. You never knew when he was working. Or what else he was doing when he was out. You had put yours up in hopes that he would do the same and maybe you would be able to find time to be together. Though you’re not sure he even bothered to go near the fridge. The few times you’ve made dinner for him and left the leftovers in the fridge with a note went untouched. 

He sneers and holds his phone out towards you. You have to step closer to get a good look at the image he has pulled up. It’s from just a few hours ago. You and Jimin sat at one of the cafe tables and laughing. It had been your break and Jimin came in to keep you company. Had Seokjin come by the cafe? Why hadn’t he come in? If he’d been there when this was taken, you were on break, you could’ve spent it together. 

“Then what’s this? Certainly doesn’t look like work to me.”

Your mind blanks. Is he seriously accusing you of lying right now? Indignation rises, acid burning in your throat. “What are you saying? If you were there why didn’t you come in? I would have loved to see you.”

“I wasn’t there. A friend sent this. And I’m saying that you’re never around. And I keep getting people telling me they see you out with him all the time. I haven’t seen you in weeks. But it seems like he sees you every day.”

He can’t seriously be accusing you of cheating right now. This seriously can’t be happening right now. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the accusation. It hurts that he’d honestly think you’d do that. Then the ugly thoughts come. What’s that saying, those who are most guilty are the quickest to throw blame at others?

“First of all,” you grit out, trying your best to keep your tone even. You can feel the rage churning in your belly. “I was on break when that was taken. Jimin came to visit because he knew someone wasn’t going to.” Seokjin’s mouth opens to speak but you continue, voice raising. He is not going to get to cut you off now. “It’s awfully fucking rich for you to accuse me when you have no evidence. You’re never even around. You know what they say, it’s never the one being blamed but the one doing the blaming.”

He scoffs and stands. In his anger, he seems to tower over you. But you’re too angry and indignant yourself for it to feel intimidating. You stare him down. 

“You’re really going to accuse me now?”

“It’s the same thing you’re doing! I was hoping to fucking talk when I saw you were home. I was so happy to see you here. We haven’t been home together in so long. I-”

“We haven’t been home together because you’re always out with Jimin.” 

“No I haven’t been fucking home because you’re never home and it fucking hurts to be in this shitty apartment without the person who’s supposed to be here with me. Do you know how fucking lonely it is waiting around here for a person who never shows up?”

Turning away from you, he takes a few deep breaths. 

You deflate slightly. You could still fix this. “Seokjin-”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to hear any more excuses.”

He moves towards the door and you panic. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You wanted to fix things. To make them better. Everything has spiraled and you can’t let him slip through your fingers. You reach for his wrist.

“Seokjin, wait-”

He wretches his hand free and glances at you over his shoulder with so much contempt that you feel your heart in your throat. “No. I’m done.”

This can’t be it. This really can’t be it. He sees you about to speak again and turns and leaves before you can get a word out and it feels like the rug has been ripped out from beneath you. The silence deafening in his absence. 

You don’t know how long you stand there for. You feel completely numb. Like this is just a bad dream and you’ll wake up soon and Seokjin will be next to you and you’ll tell him about this and he’ll laugh and comfort you and tell you that would never happen. You expect tears, but they never come. Everything feels so surreal. 

The man you had planned to spend the rest of your life with just walked out on you after accusing you of cheating. 5 years and he really thought that was something you would do. Do you wait around? Hope he comes back for you both to talk with calmer minds. 

You settle for a text.

You: Can we talk once we’ve both calmed down?

It’s less than a second later and the response makes your heart sink. Blocked. 

He really blocked you already. He’s not even going to try? You sink onto the bed. What are you supposed to do now?

At some point, mechanically, you text Jimin, asking if he could come over and bring some boxes. Looking around, you’re at least grateful that your place was small because it means you don’t have that much to try to move. Jimin arrives, faster than you expected. Or maybe you’ve just become that disconnected from the passage of time. 

He drops the boxes and comes up to you, hands fretting over you like there’s some physical injury he can attend to. Unless he knows how to mend a broken heart, his fretting is useless. Instead you move on autopilot, taking the boxes Jimin brought and packing your meager possessions into them. Jimin stands by the kitchen, looking sad and lost, unable to help because you have yet to say a word. He knows what happened though. It’s not hard to figure out. You’re thankful that he doesn’t try to get you to talk. Just lets you move and do what you need. Waits for you to ask should you need help. 

You’re almost finished packing when you pull the shoebox from under the bed and you suddenly feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Flipping the lid open reveals hundreds of photos. Of friends. Of family. Of trips. Of Seokjin. The top pictures pull your attention. Two copies of the same photo. A blurry snapshot of you two grinning on the beach. You both look so young and happy. You wish you could go back to that. Everything was so simple back then. 

He must have put his copy in with yours. Because why would they need to be kept in different places when the two of you would never be apart. You almost want to laugh. You mostly want to cry. You stand with the box, debate for all of two seconds before you set his copy down on the bed. He can decide what to do with his own copy. That’s not for you to decide. Not anymore. 

Tucking the shoebox into the last of the moving boxes, you cast one last look around the apartment. The holes where your things were hurt to see. The physical evidence that this part of your life is over. Carefully extracted from a life that had been so delicately intertwined. You wonder if the gaps will even bother Seokjin. If he’ll even bother staying here, if he’ll move onto something bigger and better. Without you. Swallowing, you turn to Jimin before those thoughts can spiral. Not here. Not yet. Once you’re somewhere else and alone. Then it can all come out.

“Ready?”

You give a small nod and Jimin helps take your things downstairs. He does most of the work while you wait on the sidewalk. He calls a taxi, loads your things into, gives the driver his address. 

As it pulls away from the curb, you can’t help but to watch the apartment shrink into the distance. Feeling like you left your heart behind. You wonder if you’ll ever get it back.

 Your phone dings with a notification, dragging you out of the sad memories. You give yourself a small shake. You hadn’t thought about that day in years, pushing it to the back of your mind. You had learned later on that some girls had told Seokjin lies about you to get the two of you to break up in a bid for his attention. It had backfired spectacularly because you found out through Hoseok after he overheard Seokjin yelling at the girl who asked him out less than a week after the break up. He never came to talk to you after the truth came out though. You never let yourself think too hard about why that might be. You’d already spent too many nights feeling numb and broken. You poured yourself into your work. Your friends. You had been content for your senior year. It didn’t go how you were expecting, but it was still good.

You smile at the device in your hand. It’s far more advanced than your old flip phones had been, even your college phone had been fairly low tech, the downsides of living on a budget. High school you would have killed for a camera this good back then. That blurry picture of you and Seokjin would’ve been much more clear if you’d had something like this back then. You swipe the notification away, just an email from your assistant about your schedule for tomorrow and what had been shifted around from today. But all that can wait until later, probably when you’re back home. The notification draws your attention to a text from Hoseok that you hadn’t seen though. He must have messaged while you were walking so you didn’t feel your phone go off. 

Hobihobi: Are you ok?

You smile at his concern. And honestly the fact that he even noticed you dipped out of the studio early. You had thought that he had been too busy on his own upcoming project to notice. It’s a pretty big deal for your label and he’s been working so hard to get this project. You’re just glad you have the perk of being boss to be able to dip when you need to. Although technically, you and Hoseok own your label, Daydream Designs, together. 

Texting him a quick reassurance, you pocket the device again, content to just enjoy the sunset out here alone. There’s a few people scattered around the beach. A few families beginning to pack up for the evening, a person running with their dog, a couple walking along the shoreline. 

You have such fond memories of this beach. For all the bad memories you have of the relationship, mostly from the end of it, at least the beach remains untainted.

 Nervously clutching the letter in your hand, your leg bounces as you wait for Seokjin to arrive. He’d texted you earlier that he’d gotten a letter from SNU. You’d rushed home to see you had a letter waiting as well. You were thankful that they had come on the same day. You can’t imagine how much more anxiety you’d have if you’d had to wait longer for one of your letters to arrive. 

You glance at the white envelope, the edges are beginning to wrinkle from your grip, but you can’t get your fingers to relax. Checking your phone again, you wonder where Seokjin is. He should be here soon. The beach is crowded today. The weather finally nice enough and the water clear and warm. It was a miracle that you’d managed to get your bench when you’d arrived. But someone had just been leaving when you’d gotten here and you’d quickly jogged over to take it before someone else could snatch it. It seemed like the perfect place to see what your future held.  

Seokjin appears suddenly, panting like he ran the whole way here. Which, given the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead, is a good possibility. He still looks handsome, more so when he sends you a brilliant grin.

“You got our bench!”

Returning his smile, you send him a wink. “I had to fight an old lady for it.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips as he sits down, brandishing his letter. “How do you want to do this?”

Chewing your lip, you think it over. “I don’t think I can open it.”

His eyes soften and he takes your hand. He can read you so well. “No matter what happens, we’ll always have each other.” He gives your hand a squeeze. “How about we open each other’s?”

Reluctantly, you nod. Would it really be better to see that he got in while still not knowing if you got in too? Swapping letters, you stare down at his name spelled out in ink. You know he got in. There’s no way he didn’t. Seokjin nudges you and you look up.

“Count of three?” You nod. “Okay… 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

Seokjin is a little faster in tearing open the envelope than you are but you keep your gaze firmly downcast, watching as your fingers tear open the paper with meticulous care. You skim his letter quickly. 

Congratulations.

He got in. Joy swells in you and you look up with a grin, momentarily forgetting your own letter. Your smile quickly falters though when you see the flat look on Seokjin’s face as he stares down at your letter and your heart sinks.

Tugging his hand to get his attention, you give him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s okay. You said-”

“You got in.”

You blink. His words swirling around your head but not fully registering. “What?”

He envelops you in a massive hug, laughing with joy. “You got in! Baby, you did it!”

You still feel a little dumbfounded, but you’re quickly filling with excitement. “You too! Jinnie, you got in too!”

He pulls back and presses a long kiss to your lips. His eyes look suspiciously wet, but you decide not to comment. You’re positive that your’s are probably a little wet too. “The next four years are going to be amazing.”

 He had been so optimistic back then. You could use some of that optimism now. 

You hadn’t originally planned on cutting out of work early, especially not to come here of all places. There were some designs that you needed to work on, a few ideas that you had that you wanted to get sketched up to show to Hoseok. But when you’d been walking through the common area during lunch, you’d overheard a couple of people gathered around a computer gushing about the Kim Seokjin wearing one of Hoseok’s designs. 

It’s definitely not the first time. Hoseok knew Seokjin in university when you knew him too, although you were always closer to him since you shared a lot of classes, and obviously a shared love of fashion. But the two were friendly and remained so afterward, but on a more acquaintanceship basis. The break up clearly divided some friendships, though you hated that it happened. You didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to stop being friends with either of you just because you two were no longer dating. 

You know it’s not the first time Hoseok has designed something for Seokjin. And normally, him wearing one of Hoseok’s designs wouldn’t bother you too much. Both because it’s good for Hoseok because Hoseok is a genius and deserves it, but because it’s also really good for your label in general in terms of good press. Though you know Hoseok sometimes slips your designs into things that get sent to him. You saw one of your jackets ended up at an award show. 

Idle chatter about Seokjin around the office isn’t that new. You suppose that’s one of the downsides to being in an industry that is very closely tied to idols and actors and actresses. It’s not an uncommon occurrence to hear them gossip about him, he’s one of the most popular drama actors currently and everyone loves to gush about how handsome and funny he is. They find it odd that you’ll talk about anyone with them except him. They leave it be much easier now, but in the beginning they still tried to include you. 

You’ve even dealt easily with the dating rumors. All the pretty actresses he’s supposedly dating. And why wouldn’t he? He’s gorgeous and talented and so, so kind. Any woman would be lucky to have him. You’ve been on the receiving end of his love. You know how easy it is to fall.

If your coworkers knew that you’d dated him in the past, they would think you were crazy to let him go. And maybe be a little jealous and probably pepper you with questions about him. You definitely are thankful they don’t know because the way some of them gossip about their own sex lives, they’d beg for details about a celebrity’s from first hand experience. 

 Excitement fills you as you sit in the airport. It’s finally summer. Your first year of college is behind you and you now get to spend two whole weeks with Seokjin in Jeju. Well Seokjin and his family. But they were kind enough to let the two of you have your own little place on the island. Well it was more of just the guest house to the main house they, along with Seokjin’s brother, would be staying at. 

This will likely be the only big summer trip you both take during college. Seokjin had originally planned to not go. More content to work all summer and save up money so the two of you could get an apartment off campus. His parents had offered to pay for a place, but Seokjin was adamant that the two of you wanted to do this for yourselves. 

You’d try to hide your disappointment about not going, but he knows you far too well and caved quickly to saying one trip wouldn’t hurt his independence. So now here you were, ready to fly out to Jeju. You haven’t been since you were little and you were excited that you got to go back and this time with Seokjin. 

The flight is quick and uneventful and Seokjin gets a taxi to take you to the beach house, his parents having arrived a few days prior. 

The main house is beautiful, but you’re more excited to see where you’ll be staying. The outside of the guest house looks like a miniature version of the main one. Inside, it’s spacious, all one room with an attached bathroom. The bed is separated from the living area by an ornate partition painted with a starry nightscape. The moon is painted in such gorgeous detail that you’re tempted to tell Seokjin you want to steal the partition when you leave. 

The living area is simple, a plush sofa and matching chair set facing a wall mounted TV. A small, well-stocked minibar is pressed against one wall. Around the partition and into the sleeping area is a large bed facing a set of french doors that open out onto a small deck that leads right down to the beach in two steps. 

Flopping onto the bed with a giddy giggle, you watch as Seokjin sets his bag down and gives you a fond smile. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

You squirm back slightly, coy smile stretching your lips. “I don’t know. The bed seems kind of empty.”

He chuckles, sitting on the bed and tugging you into his lap. “Better?”

Humming, you press a kiss to his lips. “Much.”

When you go to pull away, he follows, capturing your lips in another, deeper kiss. “We don’t… have… a lot of time…” he murmurs between kisses. 

You give a vague affirmative, only half listening to his words in favor of pressing him back into the mattress. His parents can wait, you have some important business first.

 The night air is cool, the french doors left open, gauzy curtains shifting in the gentle breeze. Shifting onto his side, Seokjin presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, soft and unhurried. It’s only been a couple of days since you’ve been here. But it’s been utter bliss, especially after the exhaustion from finals. 

You nudge the sheet lower down your bodies and press closer to him. Tonight seems like the perfect time for something soft and unhurried. A perfect time to really connect again. No hurrying because of classes, or roommates, or meetings. No papers to worry about. 

Just you and Seokjin. In a plush bed with a cool, ocean breeze enveloping you. If you peek through the curtains, you can just make out the shape of the moon, the illumination making Seokjin glow before you. 

He’s already bared to you. Both of you showering off the ocean water from an evening dip and simply crawling into bed together afterwards. The TV is off, the only sounds filling the room is the rustle of the sheets as you move and the lapping of the waves on the shore. You dare not speak and break the peaceful atmosphere and Seokjin seems to be on the same wavelength. 

Neither of you need to speak to know how to move around each other here. He cups your face, such a gentle caress, like you’re the most fragile and beautiful thing he’s ever held. It makes you feel cherished. He leans closer and time seems to slow down with the press of his plush lips to yours. He takes his time kissing you, so slowly like you have the rest of eternity for just this moment. 

Pushing you onto your back, Seokjin cages you in, enveloping you in the safe blanket of his embrace. His scent is overwhelming like this, you could drown in it. His hips press into yours, cock not fully hard yet, but that doesn’t matter. This is about taking your time with each other. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands sliding from his neck up into his hair.

The strands are a little dried out, a combination of the salty ocean water and the fresh bleaching it got. His parents hated it at first, but he defended it as just college experimentation. It’s supposed to be a time of discovery and why not try different hair colors. He’s unfairly attractive with the bleach blonde, just as handsome as his natural brunette. You know he plans to dye it another color. But he’s yet to tell you what it’ll be. 

You give his hair a light tug, relishing the sigh he releases against your lips. 

“Tell me what you want.”

“Just you.”

“You always have me.”

Seokjin nudges your thighs apart as he kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Trailing across your collarbones, he leaves a line nips down to your sternum. His hands slide up your sides till they meet your breasts, fingers cupping the soft flesh as he peppers kisses across the expanse of your chest. He traces one nipple with his tongue, teasing the bud to stiffness with each swipe. He moves on to the other one, changing it up and using his teeth this time. The air fills with your soft moans, blending with the waves outside. 

Moving lower, Seokjin kisses your belly, taking his time to touch every little mark across your skin. Pleasure simmers in your belly, every nerve burns like a live wire. Over all that, you feel loved. Absolutely worshiped as Seokjin presses a kiss to your mound with such reverence that you think he might convert right here and now. 

Seokjin eats you out just as slowly and thoroughly as he kissed you. He savors you with each swipe of his tongue, every suck, every twist of his fingers. Seokjin plays your pleasure like a fine-tuned instrument, drawing you ever so slowly to the edge. Your fingers thread through his hair once more, not to be demanding, but for the sake of feeling grounded. His tongue laps at you like you’re a ten course meal and he wants to savor every single morsel. When you chance a glance down at him, his eyes are closed, handsome face, what you can see of it at least, smoothed out in utter bliss. 

When you finally cum, it feels like sinking into pure euphoria. Seokjin drags it out for so long and so gently that you cum a second time. Though you’re so lost in sensation that maybe it’s still the first orgasm.

Pushing himself to his knees, his face glistens with your slick and you feel bereft with the distance suddenly between you. You reach out for him and he falls right into you, lips crashing against yours as his cock presses against your pussy. But you need more than that and you squirm, drawing a chuckle from deep in his chest. 

“Impatient…” he murmurs.

But despite his teasing, he shifts until the tip of his cock catches your hole and he slides in with languid push. You sigh his name and he answers with a nod, lips brushing your neck as he pulls back and starts a slow, almost lazy, rhythm. You cling to him, nearly delirious with pleasure. 

Nudging Seokjin, you pull him in for a kiss of your own. “I love you.”

He groans into your mouth. “Fuck… I love you too. So much.”

You lose track of time, your pace unhurried. Seokjin cums at some point and the two of you lay facing each other and exchanging soft kisses until you drift off to sleep. 

 You whine as Seokjin slips his cock into you. He’s been teasing you all day on the beach. At one point while you were in the water with him, his fingers slipped beneath your suit to tease along your pussy. You’d nearly screamed at the sudden sensation, but Seokjin had merely laughed and floated out of your reach, sending you a wink as he licked his finger. The second you returned to your room from dinner he was on you. This is so different from the other night. Somewhere in between the rushed couplings in the dorms and the slow, soft sex from then. It feels just as good, a little rough, fun, light. Perfect.

Seokjin grins cockily above you. “I barely did anything and you’re so wet for me, baby.”

Huffing, you try to kick at him, but he easily pins your leg down. He tuts and delivers a thrust that jostles you up the bed and draws a gasp from you. He looks entirely too pleased with himself. 

Before you can formulate any other sort of retaliation, the sound of voices catches your attention. Glancing to the side shows that neither of you shut the french doors. The voices don’t sound close, but they are near enough for you to hear. It’s not too strange, the beach is there for anyone. But it’s the first night that anyone has been out there, at least close enough for you to be able to hear from your bed. Music soon follows the voices. A party. 

Unbidden, the thought of someone breaking away from the party, coming down the beach this way and passing by the open doors has you clenching around Seokjin. He gasps at the sudden tightness, blinking down at where you’re connected. Licking his lips, he follows your gaze and a moment later, you see realization cross his features. 

His resulting grin is downright dangerous. “What’s got you going, baby? Hm?”

Swallowing, you turn back to him, blocking out the voices. You will not give him the satisfaction. “Nothing.”

Fingers digging into your hips, Seokjin glances towards the doors again. He gives a harsh thrust that pulls a startle moan from you. “Nothing, huh? I don’t think that’s true.” He turns back to you and there’s a dark look in his eyes. “I think that you want someone to walk by and see us. That the idea of being caught is exciting.”

You scoff, deliberately turning your face away from the doors. “I’m actually bored and thinking about what we’re doing tomorrow.”

Seokjin blinks at you for a moment before chuckling darkly. “Is that right?” You nod. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

It sounds like a threat and a challenge. And you’re never one to back down from a challenge. “Well in the morning, we’re meeting your parents for brunch…” 

Seokjin’s tongue presses against his cheek as he slams his cock into you. It would force you up the bed if not for his bruising grip on your hips keeping you firmly pinned in place, forced to take the full brunt of his cock spliting you open. 

But you’re just as stubborn as him. “Then we’re going… to the spa… oh my g-god… you… you made… p-plans for lunch…” 

Every few words you stutter out are punctuated by another harsh thrust. Your legs are pushed towards your chest and his next thrust has his cock rubbing along your g-spot and for a second, your mind blanks on what’s happening, pleasure so sudden and searing that you forget everything but the full feel of Seokjin’s cock inside you. He starts to grin then, victoriously, and that pulls you out of it just enough to continue, gritting your teeth as he continues to fuck you.

“Said you had… a surprise… then we were going to… oh, fuck… gonna go to t-town… buy some… gifts… Seokjin, please…”

He grins. “Gonna admit what you were thinking about?”

One hand leaves your legs, thumb brushing your clit and your resolve crumbles with your rising desire to cum. 

“Fuck… yes! I want someone to walk by. See you fucking me, making me cum, making me feel good… Seokjin, please…” you whine out.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

His rough thrusts pick up again. This time accompanied by the rhythmic movements on his fingers on your clit. Your orgasm builds quickly and leaves you breathless as Seokjin forces you over the edge. You cry out, heedless of the volume of your voice. If anything, the thought of someone hearing how Seokjin makes you feel makes you shudder with pleasure.

Seokjin groans, hands dropping to the bed as he chases his own orgasm, smothering his moan of your name against your shoulder. 

When he’s caught his breath, he raises his head, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “So… exhibitionism, huh?”

 The stories you had are probably worth a lot. Which is why you keep them to yourself. No one but you and Seokjin need to know those details. Especially not some of the more nosy people you work with. Hoseok thankfully played along with only knowing him on a professional level and not that you all went to university together. 

It’s typically pretty easy to just ignore the chatter when it comes up about him. But a couple days ago, you had a dream about him. One that after you woke up, you couldn’t recall almost anything about it. Except his face and the heavy feeling in your heart. His smile was burned into your mind and has left you feeling off since then. The mention of him today combined with the weird feeling brought back a whole slew of memories and things you had thought you’d long since moved past. To the point that you made the decision to leave work to work early because you were so confused. Why you were suddenly feeling like this about someone who you thought you’ve been over for more than 10 years. 

You never thought you’d be here back in university. Together with Seokjin. You both had thought you’d be together forever, whispered together about getting married, about the future. The things you’d do and the places you’d go to. 

 The arm around your bare waist tightens, a firm chest pressing into your back. 

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” Seokjin murmurs into the skin of your shoulder.

You chew your lip nervously before shifting in his grip so that you’re now facing each other. You’ve been thinking about a lot of things as freshman year draws to a close. All of them lead back to Seokjin.

The afternoon sunlight peeks in through the curtains, casting golden light across him and the dormroom. It’s an odd time to be in bed together, but it’s one of the only moments that you both have free and there’s no dormmates around to bother or have to kick out. Though you know Yoongi, Seokjin’s roommate and faux reluctant friend, would give you both the space if you asked. You don’t want to be the person that kicks him out constantly, so for now, you both are content to steal some free moments during the day when Yoongi has classes. Maybe next year you can think about getting a little place off campus together. A place both for you guys and maybe for your friends to visit and hang out at. 

You think Seokjin looks the most beautiful under the afternoon light regardless. Seokjin pecks your nose, drawing your attention back to him and his question that remains unanswered. You feel a little nervous bringing up what you were thinking about. But the two of you have been together for almost 3 years. You should be able to bring it up to him.

Swallowing your slight nerves, you finally speak. “Was just… thinking about the future…”

His answering smile is warm and gentle and you feel like the world could crumble around you and you would be safe here in his arms. “I hope I’m there.” 

Giggling, you press a kiss to his lips. “Of course. I can’t imagine a future without such a handsome man on my arm while I attend extravagant parties and get all the jealous stares to be dating someone so much younger than me.”

Gasping with as much drama as you expect from him, Seokjin falls onto his back, hands clutched over his chest. “I can’t believe this! The truth has finally come out! You’re only with me for my youthful looks!”

Fond smile growing, you settle your hand over his as he continues a dramatic monologue about the ultimate betrayal. You wish he would listen to you about changing his major. You know he’d love being an acting major much more than he currently is in his business major classes. A major he’s in only to appease his family. 

Finally tired of his dramatics, you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, effectively silencing him. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips. 

 You wonder when he changed his degree. Or if he ever did. You know plenty of people who go into acting without the degree and Seokjin certainly had the inherent talent to do it. It would be easy to verify if you just looked him up. Someone who’s so in the spotlight now would certainly have his degree information online. But you don’t want to do that. You wonder how invasive that must be. Although you and Hoseok are beginning to get that popular too, you wonder if those sorts of things will begin to happen to you. You can’t imagine you’d be very interesting to follow around. 

Truthfully, you don’t know what would be worse in regards to the fate of Seokjin’s degree. If he had done what you had told him all along and changed his major after you two broke up, or if he had decided to follow his dreams even if he didn’t have the degree for it. It’s undeniable that it hurts either way. The first time you’d seen him in a trailer had sent you spiraling in a way that you hadn’t since the breakup. 

 There’s a pounding at the door, but you can’t find it in yourself to get off the couch. The TV is still on the channel it had been on last night and you’re still sat in the same place as then. Honestly, you only know that it’s at least morning because there’s light streaming in through the windows and when you had seen the trailer it had definitely been evening. 

You had been watching some show, whatever you landed on first that seemed at least mildly entertaining, while eating dinner. A quick break from the sketches that are scattered across your coffee table. Sketches that could lead to your first big contract.  

But your peaceful and exciting night of work had been interrupted when you’d seen a preview for a new drama. A new drama with Kim Seokjin. It had been crushing to see. You had been telling him to do that for so long. To the point that it became one of the contributing factors in your seemingly inevitable breakup. 

It seems then that the problem was never with whether or not he would follow his dreams after graduation. It was just if you would be there with him. You cried when you saw it, a vice of bitterness around your heart that while you don’t get to celebrate with him, you’re so happy that he’s doing what he loves. You’re fairly certain you stopped sometime around midnight, though the night was a little hazy as your thoughts circled around one thing. How he hadn’t wanted you there with him.

The banging at your door stops at some point, though you don’t know how long they kept it up for. And then your door is suddenly being shoved open, banging against the wall and there’s two sets of footsteps moving quickly into the apartment. You hear a muffled ‘fuck’ and then you’re being enveloped in a hug. 

It takes only a moment for you to realize who it is, the orange-y scent of Jimin’s favorite cologne washing over you. Your breath stutters then, it hurts to breathe so you bury your face in his chest and his arms tighten around you. He murmurs comforting words and someone else sits behind you, hand gently rubbing your back. 

Eventually, you calm down and you pull away to give Jimin a weak smile, one that you direct to Hoseok as well when you see him behind you. Jimin returns with a pained smile of his own. 

“You saw, huh?” You nod and Jimin sighs. “I had hoped that you wouldn’t see it last night. It’s what I was planning to tell you at dinner tonight. So you could be prepared for it. I’m so sorry I waited to tell you.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, you have nothing to apologize for.” You rub your neck. “I… I didn’t think I would react quite like this… It’s been 3 years. You worked so hard to help me out of that dark place-”

Jimin puts a hand over your mouth, cutting you off. “No, you worked hard to get yourself out of that dark place. I was just there to hold your hand. It was a tough breakup. It’s understandable if there’s occasionally things that bring that heartache back up.”

You nod slowly, not fully believing his assertion that he just held your hand post break up. You probably would’ve dropped out of university after the breakup if you hadn’t met Jimin. You look between him and Jimin. “H-how did you know to come?”

Hoseok gives a sheepish grin. “You didn’t show up to work and I got worried. I texted Jimin on my way here and he seemed to know exactly what had happened.”

“Now that we’re here. How about I go get all of us some junk food and you two find something trashy for us to binge?”

 After that, it got much easier to see him on your screen. Or on screens in the train stations. Or plastered on ads and billboards. 

It helped you actually, to finally, truly move on from him. A sort of immersion therapy to numb you to his face. You didn’t need him to be happy. You loved your budding design business with Hoseok, clubbing with Jimin, dating both casually and more seriously. It all got easier with time and you’re grateful for the friends that you have. Your friends have always been there for you, even back then. 

 Your first birthday after the breakup was rough. Seokjin always planned something elaborate and thoughtful. There would be none of that this year. You went to work in the morning, gave your coworkers a fake smile as they wished you a happy birthday with a cupcake in the breakroom before you opened the cafe. It was sweet of them to do, but the breakup was still far too recent for you to truly enjoy anything like this. 

Jimin had night classes so you would have the evening alone. You at least had your own room now instead of sleeping on Jimin’s couch in his old apartment. You had protested his plan to move to a two bedroom apartment for you both to share so you could have your own space. You knew on your meager wages you’d never be able to help with rent at such a large place. You and Seokjin had barely been able to afford your studio together.

But Jimin insisted. He had more than enough to cover rent and you could just save your money. Or buy groceries and cook. He hated cooking, could do it just fine but was too impatient for it. It seemed like incredibly inadequate compensation for him giving you a place to live, but he just smiled and said that’s what friends do for each other. You had cried and he teased you afterward and then made you buy him ice cream. But you agreed to moving and letting him help. 

And it was nice to have your own room. It was great to live with Jimin. He was the sweetest and seemed to always know exactly what you needed. Hoseok visited often too, though you don’t know if he was coming to see you or Jimin more some days, and the three of you worked hard to get through your last year of university. Together. 

But with Jimin in classes tonight, the apartment would be empty. You didn’t really feel like cooking either. So you’d probably just have some ramen. If you could even be bothered to eat to begin with. You freeze when you get to your floor, brows knit in confusion when you see a beautiful bouquet of red and yellow lilies, interspersed with sheep sorrels. The vase is a glossy deep blue, splashes of purples and pinks and speckles of white paint of soft starry night. 

You wonder who they’re for. They must have been left at the wrong door. You carefully look through the petals for a card, finding the glossy little square quickly. Tears gather in your eyes when you see the little cartoon cat head sketched into the blank area of the card. It’s a little cruder than you’re used to seeing, the ear slightly misshapen, the cheeks a little too chunky, the lines a little unsure. 

But it’s unmistakably Yoongi’s cat doodle. Meaning he must have dropped these off for you, even though you and Seokjin have broken up. And you’re not even sure if he knew where your new place was. You’d have to thank him soon for them. It makes the day a little less rough to have something so pretty. To know someone was thinking of you.

 You never did get the chance to thank him properly for the gift. At least directly. You’d taken him a coffee, a few days later, as thanks. He’d looked a little confused but never questioned or made you say anything out loud. Which you’re grateful for. Just because you and Seokjin split up, didn’t mean you and Yoongi couldn’t still be on friendly terms. Though you haven’t properly talked to him in quite a while. Maybe you should ask him to meet up soon. See how he’s been doing. 

But even with all the progress you’ve made and all that your friends have done for you, you still have the occasional bad day. Looking back on it, it had been years since you had one that affected you enough that you had to take off work specifically in regards to Seokjin. You’re really not sure what made it seem like the beach, this beach was the best place to go. But there was just something that called you here. 

For as painful as the breakup was, Seokjin was your first love. He was amazing while you were together. Always loving and supportive. Even when things started to fall apart.

 With a groan, you push the apartment door open, giving a harder shove when it gets jammed. Like it always does and your landlord refuses to do a thing about it. The lights are off when you finally get the door shut and your heart sinks. Seokjin was supposed to be home. You haven’t seen him for more than a few minutes in the last week. This was going to finally be the night you spent together. Throwing your bag down, you flick the lights on, seeing the cramped studio apartment is indeed empty. You pull your phone out, seeing if maybe he just ran out for something or if he was running late, but there’s nothing. 

You try not to let your disappointment consume you and instead grab your sketchbook from the shelf and decide to get some sketches done while you wait, hoping, probably vainly, that Seokjin will be back soon. 

You jerk awake to the sound of the door slamming and when you blink blearily at the clock, it’s nearly midnight. You turn to watch as Seokjin kicks his shoes off, weariness written in his posture. 

“Hey,” you croak and Seokjin gives no indication that he heard you. “Where were you?”

Seokjin straightens and sighs before turning to you. There’s a dead look in his eye that you’ve never seen before, let alone had directed at you. “Out.”

For all that you had been sad or worried, anger and confusion surges through you at his complete disregard. “Out? You could’ve texted. We were supposed to have a night in together.”

His jaw tightens and he drops his bag beside yours before moving towards the bathroom, the only place in this shithole with a door. “I had to study.”

And before you can say anything else, the bathroom door is slammed shut behind him. You stare at it incredulously. He can’t be serious. You’re just as stressed as he is. Finals are creeping in and along with that is planning for senior year. At the rate you’re going, summer is going to be unbearable. 

 You sigh, shaking the memories away. You don’t want to dwell on the bad anymore. Even if the breakup was crushing, the good times were amazing. With the sun finally below the horizon, the moon takes its place, casting cool white light across the beach. And with it, comes the peace of being alone. You let the sound of the waves lull your thoughts to silence.

But the sound of footsteps pulls your attention, confused because the beach is basically deserted at this time, the chill brought in with the moon driving most people inside. Your breath catches in your throat when you see Seokjin standing not far from you. The wind blows his hair from his face and he looks tired. A little older, but still just as handsome as he was in university.

There’s no way that this is happening. You must be dreaming. That’s right. This is just another dream. A weird continuation of the one from a couple of days ago. Seokjin isn’t really here. Not at the same time as you. Not when there’s no one around. Not when your heart feels vulnerable and you can admit that you maybe really, really miss him. Sometimes.

But the chill from the wind feels real. The wood biting into your palms where your grip has tightened on the bench feels real. He looks real and handsome and devastating. Every bit like the man who stole your heart in high school and broke it in college. Who loved to make sure his loved ones were always laughing. Who had such a flair for dramatics that it was never a surprise that he’s such a popular and talented actor. 

The jacket wrapped around his shoulders is unmistakably yours. A silly, casual design that you had done but never put into a collection cause there was never one it fit. You had sewn it on a whim, the idea eating away at you until you made it, settled the itch in your fingers. There’s only one way that Seokjin could’ve gotten that.

Hoseok. 

Have they been talking more than Hoseok let on?

Seokjin hasn’t noticed you yet and you’re wondering if you’d be able to slip away without having him notice you when he turns and freezes. He seems just as surprised and blindsided to see you as you are to see him. You stare at each other and it feels like an eternity and a million conversations pass between you both. He swallows and closes the short distance between you both and tentatively takes a seat beside you. 

He looks nervous when he turns towards you. Clearing his throat after a moment, he sticks his hand out, tentative smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Kim Seokjin.”

You almost laugh. It’s such a him thing to do. As if you would ever forget him. Seokjin left a scar on your heart, you’d carry a little piece of him for the rest of your life.

But the introduction feels like more than a way to break the tension. There’s a question hiding in his innocuous words. Is this okay? Can I be here? Can we be in each other’s lives again? 

Most importantly, it feels like a fresh start. A new chapter. You and Seokjin are different people now. You’re both successful. You’ve grown, matured, learned. You’re no longer the starry-eyed, hopeful kids in college. Full of dreams and hopes, but with so little experience. 

Who knows, maybe there won’t even be romantic feelings between you anymore. Maybe you’ll just end up friends. 

But maybe this new start is what you both need. The sun may have set on your relationship in the past, but maybe it was just what you both needed to let the sun rise now. Something new, and exciting, but still a little bit familiar. 

You take his hand with a smile. “Hi, Kim Seokjin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

#bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #purplearmynet #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #seokjin fanfic #seokjin angst #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts angst #jin x reader #jin smut #jin fanfic #jin angst

[pain-in-the-butler]

The time has come once again

The Bloodbath

“I’m simply one hell of a butler” says Sebastian as he starts cleaning as usual

Okay so Agni’s taking no prisoners

Work Nerd, Science Nerd, and Jock Nerd team up to form the Nerd Trifecta

Team One Brain Cell joins up with Phipps, who is quite possibly their only chance for survival

Ran-Mao remembers how Harcourt beat everyone in the unfortunately deleted round and said “Not in my backyard”

So far, everyone else has simply run away unscathed or grabbed a weapon they won’t use because the game doesn’t record weapons. Rip Tanaka

Day 1

Ran-Mao bringing the canon energy by adding a second weapon to her arsenal

Phipps somehow always turns into Team Dad during these, so I’m glad to see he’s finding time for his favorite hobbies

Undertaker up to his usual Sneaky Antics

It hasn’t even been twelve hours yet. Kind of impressive honestly

Considering Harcourt lost his mace, I’ll just assume the attack Grell “escaped” from was the vicious stabbing of his trim little schoolboy fingernails

Bad vibes

It appears that Lau also brought his canon game

Sebastian in the most recent chapters be like

I’ve actually never had this event come up before and it has to happen between two of the more innocent characters in the series;;;; god Lizzie you deserve better even in the Hunger Games Simulator

Where’s a Safety Nerd when you need one

What’s better than this? Guys bein dudes

This is probably what happened after Ciel left Weston

Sebastian will take care of this for ya, huh bud

Other events:

Agni practices his archery

Wolfram goes fishing

Othello finds a cave

Soma goes ‘splorin

Edward goes huntin

Day 1′s Deaths: Tanaka, Sieglinde, Lizzie, and Macmillan. Someday one of the ladies will win

Night 1

Butler slumber party in the woods, BYOYM (bring your own young master)

It takes a lot of energy to be this blond

I’m happy for her :)

Yeah I’ll bet you probably do Lau

A tonal shift so abrupt I got mental whiplash

Can we go back to when Grell was looking at the sky pls

Thought about science too hard. Got a concussion

Thought about Ciel dying too hard. Got an infection

Aww dad :( Hope you caught some fish tho

Looks like Harcourt won’t be winning this one, gang

I stg the hunger games simulator is misogynist because the ladies always DIE /j

Ran-Mao is hopefully here to prove the previous statement wrong

Other events:

Bard gets a hatchet

Undertaker also passes out from exhaustion

R!Ciel goes to sleep in a tree

Day 2

Oh you five are SO going in my burn book for this. It’s what Grell would’ve wanted

Ahaha just like in the real manga... right guys (;

Idk about you but I’m rooting for her

I don’t think the simulator could’ve picked four people who were less likely to team up than this

I would too if I saw my best friend was palling around with an opium dealer, a grim reaper with a lawn mower, and another grim reaper that the first grim reaper doesn’t like

Other events:

Othello chases Wolfram

That’s the only other event actually

That means today we lost O!Ciel, Mey-Rin, Harcourt, and Grell. ffs, I hope Ran-Mao kills all of you

Night 2

I’ve missed you, rare pair simulator

The “unknown sponsor” was Undertaker and the “fresh food” was O!Ciel

Confirmed: Lau doesn’t get high off his own supply

Once again a ceasefire between the strong hungry boys is formed

Girl, you don’t have to do that

“Did you kill Ciel?” Sebastian asks

“No that was William,” Othello says

Sebastian punches a tree so hard that it combusts. “God damn. Fuck” Sebastian says

Wolfram just realized I put him in the Hunger Games simulator

Other events:

Phipps thinks about “Are you winning son”

Undertaker gazes at space

Ronald becomes Lost Ronald

Soma passes out

Bard gets some water

Day 3

Damn Agni who haven’t you flirted with

Finny sees that Bard has water and thinks Bard cooked it himself, so he wants no part of that (might be burnt)

What did he even have that was worth stealing? A fish?

Well I can tell you who isn’t creating that smoke: Lau

“What’s worse than two young masters? No young masters. Now get over here and make a contract”

Everything about this sentence is a fever dream

Other events:

Undertaker decides he wants a slingy shot too

Edward chases Dad I mean Phipps

Othello gets some ouchies from picking berries

Night 3

When your young master dies, you just get an infection apparently

damn Finny’s playing hardball

I don’t think anything bad has actually happened to Bard yet. It’s just been a grand frolic the whole time

I barely remember reading the first Hunger Games but Ran-Mao’s the Foxface of this journey: she deserves to win and I just know she’ll die in the stupidest way possible

Sebastian’s like a cat that can’t reach the bird it wants to attack, so it attacks the nearest other thing instead. Poor Dad

Two white-haired anime boys and a not-white-haired anime boy talk about who will die tomorrow. Anime doesn’t exist yet so the white-haired anime boys don’t know their hair color automatically spells their doom

Other events:

Edward starts a fire, which means he’s capable of smoking opium

Ronald gets some medical supplies

Othello gets a hatchet

R!Ciel thinks about winning

Lau gets an entire explosive, but he won’t be able to light it, so no it’s no big deal

Day 4

In Soviet Hunger Games, white-haired anime boy kills you

But why murder someone when you could just mess with them

Other events:

Grey scares Bard

Finny goes hunting

Night 4

Have you four even killed anyone yet

The list of “people who didn’t start the manor fire and also don’t smoke opium” now consists of Lau and R!Ciel

The mood is too light now. Someone needs to die and it better not be Ran-Mao

At last, Father Phipps has chosen his son for this round

Agni gushes about all the hot guys he’s simultaneously in love with, giving Ran-Mao a clearer idea of who’s still alive

Day 5

Girl, it’s about time, go claim some trophies

Finny’s easily got the longest kill streak and it’s a little unnerving

Father Phipps finds a new secret fishing hole

Othello doesn’t

Lau continues to put in all the efforts of a kindergarten bully

Oh no. He’s a yandere

Other events:

Sebastian fucks around and explores the arena

Bard fucks around and hunts for tributes

Undertaker fucks around and sleeps

R!Ciel fucks around and picks flowers

Night 5

I’ve never met anyone who ships Sebastian/Undertaker but I know you’re out there

Okay, maybe these four are even less likely to team up than Phipps, Ronald, Undertaker, and Lau

Edward sees I’m making jokes about people who build fires and stays hidden

Day 6

Canonically, that is the only way R!Ciel would win a fight, so

I probably could have predicted this

I hope these are the faces they made when it happened

The “unknown sponsor” is R!Ciel and the “fresh food” is an ear that fell off his own head

I’m not sure if I should be concerned or unsurprised that Bard’s Hunger Games life is more chill than his canon life

the “unknown sponsor” was the fish and the “clean water” was “fish water”

Other events:

Ran-Mao gets her third weapon that she doesn’t want to use, which is a hatchet

Finny finds a river

Agni practices archery again, but he doesn’t kill anyone because he wants this to go on forever

Night 6

Ran-Mao I beg you please. Release us from this purgatory of mediocrity

And suddenly we’re back to canon Bard

I guess not everything can be canon

Other events:

Both Agni and Phipps pass out from exhaustion. It’s 2:50 a.m. so I should really be taking a page from their book, but unfortunately everyone refuses to die

The Feast

Finny has been a stone cold killer this entire match, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the girl I wanted to win would get eliminated by him, but it still hurts ✌️😔

If you cheat on Othello, he will overpower you, killing you

Everyone else decided not to go to the Feast. Honestly, I don’t remember what the Feast is, but everyone who did go either murdered someone or got murdered, so I guess that was probably a good call

Day 7

I’ve had enough of this dude

Jesus Finny I can’t wait to see how many kills you got, I feel like you and Agni were the only two who took anyone down

Bard, Undertaker, Sebastian, and Phipps all hunt for other tributes but they’re useless and don’t kill anyone

Arena Event: Volcano Eruption

In one fell swoop, we lose Sebastian, Undertaker, R!Ciel, and Finny, jeez. But... that means it comes down to.............

FATHER PHIPPS VS. BARD

FATHER PHIPPS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wow... Unlike his manga counterpart, this boy coasted the whole time and won... He basically went on vacation and he actually won... But then again, it’s Hunger Games Simulator and nothing is sacred

Well I hope you learned a valuable lesson today. I hope you did at some point before you read my post, because you sure as hell learned nothing from this. Thank you for wasting precious minutes of your life with me 😏

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji hunger games simulator

[boltwrites]

Misfits - Chapter 1

Fandom: Star Wars - Clone Wars / The Bad Batch Pairing: The Bad Batch / Reader (Polyamorous)  Rating: M (Rating May Change) Tags: Polyamorous Relationship, Force-Sensitive Reader, Slow Burn

Work Summary: After a year working with the 501st, you've been assigned a new post - Clone Force 99, aka the Bad Batch. You're concerned about the transition - you found it hard enough to fit in with the 501st, and now you had to acclimate to an entirely new squad. As it turns out, the Bad Batch is very accommodating.

read it on ao3 | or read more below

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were nervous about your new assignment.

“Nervous” wasn’t a trait most people used to describe you. No, your former lifestyle dictated that you weren’t really allowed the luxury of nervousness – force sensitives left to fend for themselves, especially those expelled from the Order, had to grow a thick skin in order to survive. Force sensitives were valuable and much sought after, and not just by the Sith. From the day you had left the Order, it had been up to you to survive, to take care of yourself, and to make your own way in the universe.

But you were still a person – a sentient being that craved some sense of normalcy and security. And you had found that, for a fleeting moment, with the 501st. You hadn’t been thrilled with the arrangement – getting roped into a war that you wanted nothing to do with wasn’t exactly on your agenda the night you were approached by ghosts from your past and led to the Temple you had left behind so many years ago.

The Jedi had created a new program, meant to bolster their numbers in the face of the growing Sith. To create an alliance with unaligned force sensitives: the Jedi would provide protection and a generous stipend for the work provided, and the force sensitives would fight alongside the present Jedi. You hadn’t really been a huge fan of the idea, for multiple reasons… but you had been presented an offer that which you could not refuse. So you didn’t.

And it had been stable, for a bit. You hated to admit that you had grown to enjoy the company of the 501st, but you had. Your General, Anakin, was understanding, and not so uptight. He was so unlike the Knights you knew when you had been present at the Temple – he was reckless, and fearless, and he followed his own heart instead of the code. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t mind his command; you knew that he wasn’t so swayed by Council politics and related trivialities, and that he cared about his men first and foremost. You had grown fond of him, even discussing your personal philosophy regarding the force with him on a few occasions, and even sparring with his padawan, Ahsoka, on several occasions. A teenager holding a higher title than you was alien, but in the relaxed nature of the 501st, you had hardly noticed it.

But, as much as you enjoyed the company of the Jedi, perhaps the person you would miss the most was Rex. Holding the same rank didn’t seem to phase the clone Captain, as Rex had been more than happy to show you the ropes and introduce you to the men. He accepted you as his equal immediately, and you had been fast friends, bonding over your similar roles in the battle and joking about the most trivial shit that left you on the floor in stitches, Rex hunched over wheezing at perhaps the worst pun you had ever constructed. He had introduced you to the other members of the 501st, saved your ass on multiple occasions, and in turn, you had confided in him about how out of place you felt within the military structure afforded you.

“I don’t fit in,” you had rambled, waving your hands emphatically after one too many drinks at 79’s. “I mean – I’m a Captain, right? Like you. But I’m not a clone, obviously.” You laughed, feeling stupid for even pointing it out. “I mean, I know there must be more out there like me – force sensitives the Jedi picked out of thin air, coerced into joining this war…”

You had rolled your eyes, and Rex had raised an eyebrow. In turn, you had waved him off, nowhere near finished your speech.

“But – the point I’m trying to make – is that it’s not like I’m fighting alongside people that are like me. Even when we work alongside the 212th or some other battalion, I think I’ve only seen one other non-Jedi force sensitive.”

“And it’s worse, you know? You guys – the men – they all call me Jedi. Because honestly, what else do you know? What do you know besides Jedi and Sith? There’s nothing really to call a person like me – but calling me Jedi isn’t right, because then I go up to Anakin or Ahsoka, and yeah, they’re nice to me, but they don’t treat me the same as other Jedi. I’m not one of them. And I’m not one of you. So where the hell do I fit in this?”

Rex hadn’t had an answer for you, and you sure as fuck didn’t know.

Maybe that’s why you were assigned to Clone Force 99.

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

“Have you worked with these guys before?” you asked, fiddling with your bag as you waited in the hangar on Coruscant. Rex stood beside you, hand on his hip as he surveyed the sky above you, no doubt waiting for your transport.

“Once. You remember when you were off on that stealth mission with Hondo?”

“Ugh, I wish I could forget.”

Rex chuckled, shaking his head at your sarcasm. “I first met them then. Don’t worry. You’ll fit right in.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and he raised both back at you, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Care to elaborate as to why, you bastard?”

Rex grinned wider, shaking his head and turning his eyes to the sky once more.

“They look at the world differently. Like you do.”

You hadn’t expected that, and you stood in shock, watching Rex as he searched for the ship that would take you from him. You thought, for just a moment, you saw a tinge of sadness in his eyes, that a sliver of grief passed over you both in the force at the thought of your parting. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a ship started to descend, the roar deafening anything you might have wanted to say.

The ship landed, powering down its thrusters, and your heart flipped involuntarily. You didn’t want to be nervous – you really didn’t. You had come to know clones over the time you had spent in the GAR – close to a standard year, at this point. You knew that in order to earn their trust, you couldn’t appear afraid, or out of place. You had to act as if you belonged, as if you were already their friend, in order to actually become their friend. It was surprisingly similar to working with scoundrels in the Outer Rim – faking it until you made it.

So, you squared your shoulders and tried to seem confident, and Rex’s subtle smile and firm nod only spurred you on as he stepped to your side, prepared to introduce you to the men you would be working with for at least the new few missions.

The hatch hissed at the airlock released, the ramp lowering so that the crew could disembark.

You knew little about Clone Force 99. Your reassignment had been swift, ordered straight from the top – above even the Jedi, from the Senate itself. According to your official order, Clone Force 99, a special operations unit, was in need of a force sensitive for several missions. They didn’t operate under a Jedi General, and seeing as they were a spec ops unit, the Jedi couldn’t waste any of their precious men on such a small squad. You, however, as an unassociated force-sensitive, were ripe for the picking, and considering that you had previously been assigned to the 501st, a battalion that already operated under a Jedi Knight and Padawan, you had been the obvious choice for the job.

So, you knew that they were a special unit and that they didn’t work with Jedi on the regular. Great. That was such a detailed summary of how they operated. You were so prepared.

Well, you considered. You had gone into battle previously with even less information. It had been even worse when you were operating in the Outer Rim. It could be worse.

You tried to remain optimistic as the steam cleared from the change in pressure and temperature, the hatch hissing as the troopers disembarked. You stood transfixed as they did, and as each appeared, your eyebrows scrunched further together.

You had been told this was a clone force. As in, a clone-based unit. No Jedi, and obviously no nat borns, as beside the Jedi and force sensitives, they were restricted to the Navy, not the GAR. But these men…

It was strange. They looked so different – one large, one tall and slender, another with long hair and broad shoulders. But their biorhythms in the Force were all so similar. The force sang around them like it did with other clones – there was a distinct taste of battle to them, of shared battles, countless. Their signatures sang together, like the rest of the clones’ did, as they had grown and battled together, as they had trusted one another from the day they all met on Kamino. It spoke of a deep camaraderie that was never present among nat borns, that was specific to clones and them alone, and it dazzled you.

“Captain Rex. Good to see you.”

You blinked, snapping yourself out of your analysis of the force, only to see the clone with the longer hair greet Rex with a firm grip to the forearm. As he drew closer, you started to notice the resemblance – the same skin tone, the curve of his nose, the color of his eyes – and it was confirmed through your eyes as well that this man was, indeed, a clone.

“Good to see you too, Sergeant,” Rex replied with a nod, stepping back to gesture to you. You straightened up, standing formally to address the man you would be working with from now on. You weren’t one for formalities, but you did want to make a good impression with him. Some clones were not as openminded as Rex, and they tended to be sticklers for rules and orders, offended by the slightest deviation. Until you knew the Sergeant’s preferences, it would pay to be formal.

“This is Captain Andar. She’s the force-sensitive that’s been assigned to your unit.”

You offered Rex a small smile – he knew how much you valued the term “force sensitive” and how you wished to remain distinct from the Jedi, so you were grateful that he remembered your preference.

The Sergeant frowned, looking from you to Rex and back again, and you felt anxiety coil in your stomach. The downward tilt of his lip and his disappointment in the force compounded, leaving you feeling uneasy.

“We requested General Skywalker.”

Oh, there it was. They had expected a Jedi. Not you, some half-baked, half-trained force sensitive who wasn’t even allowed to hold a title higher than Captain. You should be used to it, at this point, the disdain and the dismissal. But it still hurt you a bit more than it should have, when you were reminded that you were only second best.

“Hunter, we’re stretched thin as it is,” Rex sighed, shaking his head a little. “I did submit your request, but this came from the top. The Senate has disallowed the allocation of the Jedi anywhere other than the front lines. We have a severe shortage of Generals – Commanders, even – but I assure you, Captain Andar is more than capable. She’s one of the best men I know.”

You smiled at Rex, a soft thanks for his kind words, even as Sergeant – Hunter, was it? – looked you up and down.

“So, you’re a force sensitive,” he addressed you. You nodded, trying to get a read on him. His large skull tattoo, which took up the majority of the left side of his face, drew your attention. Most clones turned to tattoos in order to assert their individuality – you had actually seen a few of your comrades getting their tattoos, as it was a communal activity among them. You laughed along with Rex as you watched shinies cringe at their first ink, and you even has a few pieces yourself, hidden below your clothing.

But somehow, Hunter’s skull seemed different. There was a lot about clone culture you still didn’t fully understand, and this may just be a part of it. His tattoo, however, wasn’t quite as intriguing as his hair – long and free-flowing, not tied back besides his headband. There were a few long-haired clones in the 501st, but they always kept their hair tied up neatly, either in a tight bun or a ponytail. Hunter’s was clearly too short for either of those options, and it made him look rugged. You wondered what he was trying to convey with this combination of identifying markers. Clones used everything they had to assert their individuality – to designate themselves as them, to emphasize their personality, role in the military, and who they wanted to be. What did Hunter’s want to present to you with his appearance, you wondered.

But, you couldn’t just stare at the man all day – for fuck’s sake, he had just asked you a question and you’d already spent a good half a second staring at him instead of answering.

“Yes – I possess the same abilities in the force as a Jedi such as General Skywalker or Commander Tano –“ you frowned a little. You were probably closer in skill to Ahsoka, despite being far older. That tends to happen when you’re expelled from the order at fifteen and spend more time trying to simply stay alive rather than train. “- I am more than capable of completing missions where force-related skill is necessary. And, I don’t have to answer to the Council.”

You added the last part on the end with a little chuckle, because Anakin had often asked for your assistance specifically because of that fact – the Jedi Council knew that it was a risk allowing you and the other unaffiliated force sensitives into the GAR, and it was for this exact reason. You had made it work with the 501st, though, and you wondered if this new unit would find that loophole as useful as Anakin had.

Judging by the raised eyebrow, Hunter was mildly impressed by at least something you said.

“Oh, she’ll fit right in, then,” Hunter seemed to soften, just a touch? As if understanding something you weren’t yet privy to as he flashed Rex a grin. Rex smirked back, patting you on the shoulder.

“Told you,” he mumbled to you, and you rolled your eyes at him. Well, at the very least, the Bad Batch didn’t hate you.

Yet.

#the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #echo x reader #hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #misfits #mine

[cinnamonrusts]

together, we can make it out alive - 1

[a/n: originally posted on my Ao3 and I decided to revamp my series some with my updated writing techniques. Hope you enjoy.]

                                                                  ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚

*BEEPBEEP BEEPBEEP*

The electronic chimes from your alarm clock blared loudly in your ear. Groans escaped your dry throat as the clock stirred you from your slumber, "Not yet--," your hand fished for the large snooze button on the top of the clock. Five more minutes, that is all you would need. Well, five minutes came and once again the alarm beeped in your ear. Your eyelids slowly lifted as you read the blurry red digits that stared in your face. "3:45 PM", it read. "Shit..." you cursed as you knew that you needed to get up and get around for your nightshift turn.

Your legs swung around the edge of your bed as you stretched with a loud yawn. Daylight peaked in through your blinds and shined directly into your eyes, "I really need some black out curtains," you mumbled to yourself as you made a mental note. This was just your daily routine now. You slept in the morning after getting off work from the Raccoon City Police Department and woke up around 3:00 PM. Ate, exercised, showered, and relaxed all before you pushed pencils on the clock at your desk.

Don't get it wrong. It was a job and you were thankful, but your duties weren't exactly what you expected them to be after the headache that was the police academy. You didn't hate your job, you just didn't -- like it. Also, you really fucking hated Raccoon City. It was not the same place that you remembered as a kid, not to mention all the weird things that had been going on lately. You just really wanted out of there. Maybe go to a warmer city... like Los Angeles or something.

You pushed yourself to a stand and turned around on the balls of your feet to head to the bathroom. When you reached the shower, you turned on the faucet and ran your fingers under the warm water. Just as it reached the perfect temperature, your phone rang. You ignored it and waited for the voicemail to pick up. But it just rang again.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" you yelled at the telephone as you stomped through your apartment to the device on the wall. "Hello?" you answered.

A familiar, yet unwelcomed voice barked from the other end of the line. "[L/N]! Where the hell are you?!" It was Lt. Branagh. "Home. My shift doesn't start until 10." your eyes rolled as you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Get your ass over to the station! We've had reports all day of violent attacks all over the damn city!" He couldn't be serious -- it was 6 hours now until your shift! "I don't come in until--," Branagh cut you off, "I expect to see you soon, [L/N]." the call ended.

You kicked the open moving box that sat in front of you in anger. It flipped onto its side and the contents spilled out onto the floor. It was a bunch of papers that you failed to file away and as you picked them up, you noted a familiar picture on top of the mess. The photo displayed two very recognizable faces that had smiles displayed happily.

You and Leon S. Kennedy.

He was your partner in crime during the police academy. Leon was the only one who didn't see you being a woman as a weakness. The two of you hit it off immediately after he introduced himself and complimented your skills.

On top of your heads were colorful party hats that seemed to be a bit too small. Both of your arms were slinked around his shoulders as you pulled him in for a close hug. His right hand was rested on your waist and the left held up a large mug of beer that was about to spill out onto the floor. Your thumb caressed the image of his handsome face and a smirk spread across your lips. You flipped the picture over and in faded pen was your handwriting: "Graduation Celebration! JULY '98"

Leon crossed your mind often. The two of you lost contact with one another after something happened between the two of you. It was as if that party happened yesterday -- the night that he kissed you. Your eyes closed and you could picture Leon's face perfectly - the way that his lips puckered and the way that they felt.

The two of you stood outside of the bar on that warm summer night. Leon was leaned against his shitty blue car that was wrapped in faded paint and rust. You stood in front of him with your arms crossed and your eyes focused on the clear sky that hovered above. Then the sensation of fingers over your skin drew your attention from the sky, to the man. Your gazes locked and his lids were half shut but a smile was on his lips. "Leon, you're drunk, aren't you?" you chuckled. His fingers wrapped around your bicep, "Maybe," he cooed as he brought you close to him. You could feel and smell his breath, it was warm and stunk heavy of booze.

With his free hand, he moved it to your cheek and tickled it lightly with his knuckle. Your [E/C] eyes stared deep into his moonstone ones, Leon's pupils dilated before they closed. His lips met yours. They were smooth but a bit chapped - he must be an avid user of Chapstick, you thought. The kiss was quick but meaningful. When he pulled away, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for another. When the two of you broke apart, you noted the way those moonstone pools in his head looked at you -- you could get lost in them -- forever.

The fond memories brought warmth to your heart that you lost the track of time. Pounds from beneath you interrupted your reminiscence. Your neighbor below screamed through the floorboards. "Hey, you fucking idiot! Stop using all the hot water! You're not the only one who fucking lives here!" he continued to pound and yell. "Shut up, you fuck!" you screamed back as you scrambled to your feet. Your clothing was stripped from your body as you dashed to the shower, and jumped directly into the lukewarm stream.

You knew that Branagh was most likely boiled over in anger because of how late you were already. Once you finished your shower, you pulled on your police uniform, styled your hair into a neat bun, grabbed a bagel, and ran out the door. Your car was parked pretty far down the road and rain began to fall from the sky. What a perfect start to the day. You shoved the bagel into your mouth and dashed for your car. The key slipped in your hands as you fiddled with them to get the door unlocked. Just as you grabbed the correct one, they fell onto the ground and so did your bagel.

"I've already had enough of today," you cursed and sighed to yourself as you bent over to pick them up. When you stood back up, a woman came from nowhere and threw herself onto you. She cried in panic and spoke incoherently. You noted the large wound on her shoulder and blood was seeped heavily into her shirt. "P-Please! Help me!" she grabbed onto your shirt with blood stained hands. "Ma'am!" you yelled and pushed her off of you for your own safety. She stumbled back and fell to her knee, "Let me call an ambulance!" you started to run to a nearby pay phone but she stopped you with a stutter that it was too late. "There's more of them!" her head turned in the direction of an alley to the left, then she took off from the ground in a haste. "Ma'am, wait!" you yelled as you watched her run away around the corner and into the city.

"Who's coming?" you whispered. With curiosity, you walked toward the alley that the woman had looked down but saw no one. Maybe she was one of the crazy people that were noted to be around the city and around the Arklays... If you saw her again, you'd probably call in some backup... the crazy look in her eyes... it unsettled you. You managed to shake the image of them from your mind and focused on getting out of the rain.

As you walked back to your car, you noticed the red stains that were now stained into your uniform. Whatever. You would worry about it after you made it to work. Once you got into your car, the radio started talking about more and more unrest that had spread more and more through the streets. Your finger pressed the power off, "Enough of that." the news was just the same and you just knew that you had to deal with it first hand once you arrived at the station, it just made it worse.

In front of the parking garage for the RPD were several cars that seemed to have been in an accident. Your car couldn't go any further than where you were at, so you hopped out of the vehicle to walk the rest of the way. People dashed around the streets in a panic and it seemed as if it were the apocalypse. You tried to flag people down to stop them but they all ignored you. What the hell is going on?! When you entered the station, there was even more chaos. Officers ran around like wild and some seemed to be injured as well. You felt anxious and confused by everything that was going on. What had gone on in your brief time away?

Phones rang, people yelled, doors slammed, and everything soon overwhelmed you, you could feel yourself going into an overload. But a strong hand on your shoulder was a saving grace. "There you are, [L/N]!" it was Branagh and a brief look of relief washed across his face. "I left a stack of paperwork on your desk. Sort through it and then you're going out on patrol. Some crazy shit is going down..." he gave you a light push in the direction of your desk.

As you walked to the back of the office, you noticed the banner that was spread across the ceiling in blue and yellow.

"WELCOME LEON"

Your heart pumped in your chest and you could feel your skin begin to turn clammy. There was only one Leon that you know of that was a cop. The man that you shared a kiss with and so many more feelings... Leon -- Kennedy? Was he actually on his way here? He always told you that after the academy he would eventually come find you in the city and be your partner again. You thought that it was just a joke -- but now, it didn't seem that way. How could he come here without saying anything to you? No call? No email? Nothing?

Your eyes remained on the banner and you asked your co-worker who sat on the desk beneath it, "Hey, Rita. Who's this, Leon?" She didn't look up from her desk, "I dunno. Some new guy from out of town. Last name starts with a K or something like that. Ask Neil, I'm sure he knows." You could feel a knot in your stomach and you darted to your chair. The desk that was across from you was normally piled high with boxes of paperwork, but now it was cleared off. You leaned over the divider and snatched the piece of paper on the desk. Your eyes darted across the text:

"Leon S. Kennedy, we're putting you on a very special case for your first assignment. Your mission is to... unlock your desk! The key to your success is in the initials of our first names."

The note confirmed it. It was indeed that Leon. You plopped back into your seat and gnawed on the nail of your thumb. Your thoughts were now consumed as to how both Leon and yourself would react when he arrived. You could see it now...

He would laugh with the other officers as they shot the shit with him. He would be in the center of the group, they would slap him on the back and tell him how happy they were to have him on the force. His gaze would eventually land on you and he would excuse himself from them. Leon would smile and show off his perfect teeth. He'd saunter over and slowly shake his head, "I didn't expect to see you here, [F/N]."

You swallowed hard but your thoughts were interrupted when the sounds of glass shattered right outside of the office's door.

The chatter and hubbub in the office halted as everyone's attention turned toward the door.  An officer who wasn't much older than you rushed toward the noise, he couldn't make out exactly what it was from behind the glass of the door but drew his gun in preparation. He looked back at the office filled with you and your co-workers before opening the door slowly. "Hello?" he called out. His gun was pointed out into the hallway but found that there was nothing there. Then a sound of something you had never heard before or ever would forget echoed loudly in the empty hall.

It sounded like a monster, there was no other way to explain it. It pierced through your ears and then the sounds of the officer's shrieks shook your core. A loud gurgle erupted from his throat as he was tackled by a person onto the floor. This - person, dug their teeth deeply into his throat and proceeded to rip it out. Bright, red liquid sprayed from the wound across the floor. Two male officers threw themselves onto the assailant and tried their hardest to pull him off but soon were attacked as well. Gunshots blasted off in the office which then were accompanied by more sounds of broken glass. The assailant dropped dead beside the officers on the floor and everyone exchanged glances of pure terror.

"More are out there!" yelled Branagh as he held his weight against the door to stop any more of these "people" from killing everyone his subordinates. "Pistols aren't going to keep us alive for much longer," Rita cried out. "But Irons insisted we hide everything else away, remember!?" your fellow officers shouted at each other as tension rose - fear and panic began to set in.

"I know where some are," you piped up. "I have the keycard for the weapons locker," you reached into your shirt pocket and pulled out a white, plastic card. "Perks of being the newbie, I guess. I'll go." you walked toward the back door but stopped when Branagh barked at you, "You can't go alone!" You shook your head, "I will be right back, I promise." you disregarded his arguments and with a deep breath, opened the door and took off on your mission.

The hall was dark and quiet, the electricity must had been cut out in this section of town. You swallowed hard and with your pistol in on hand with the flashlight in the other, you took quiet yet brisk strides down the long stretch of hallway. All you could hear was the sounds of your bootsteps and the groans of those things that lurked just outside of the fences that kept the building somewhat safe. You needed these guns, no matter what. Or you and your co-workers would end up just like those officers - dead. Your breathing was heavy and your heart raced which could be felt in your skull, "Easy girl," you spoke out, "Just a few doors and you'll be there."

Time was not on your side, so you took off in a sprint. The feeling of being so vulnerable next to a stretch of windows worried you as you could fall victim to whatever those things were at any time. They weren't exactly "things" they looked human and most likely were but maybe they were deranged with some sort of illness. But nonetheless, they were dangerous and deadly... Just as you feared, one of them crashed through the window. Their greedy palms reached for you over the broken glass and managed to snag you by your hair. You screamed in pain and terror as their strength pulled you in but when you pulled away, you only pulled them closer. Your pistol flew from your hands and slid across the floor, too far for you to reach.

Their bloody jaws snapped as they tried their hardest to sink their teeth into your soft flesh. You could feel their breath on your skin and you struggled but could feel your strength giving way to theirs. There was only one thing you could do and it was to grab the knife that was attached to the side of your right leg. Your fingertips were just barely able to reach the handle but with one quick lunge of your body, you grabbed hold of the weapon. The desire to survive charged your strength and you began to saw through the strands of your hair that were gripped tight in the clutches of the creature. Tears poured down the sides of your face as you sawed through the strands that were the barrier between you and certain death.

The creature was now halfway over the window and their hand still had your [h/c] hair in between their fingers, jaws still snapped at you as they begged to taste your flesh. You scrambled on all fours as you attempted to gather yourself so that you could press on. Your foot slipped on a large piece of broken glass which sent you across the floor, you then landed onto a large chunk of broken glass. The sharp piece embedded itself deep into your knee and you cried in pain as you held your leg close to your chest. The creature dug its nails into the tile floor and started to crawl toward you with dead eyes, and bloody teeth. You took several deep breaths as you prepared to yank the glass from your leg and with one last deep inhale, you yanked it out. You cried in pain but knew that you had to keep going, your muscle burned as it now was exposed to the air. You made sure to grab your pistol from the floor before you continued on.

Your sprint was now resorted to a quick limp but you managed to make it to the locker room. To your dismay, it was mostly empty besides a couple of shotguns and some ammunition. "Fuck! Fuck! This isn't enough!" you screamed as you pounded your fist against one of the lockers. Inside one of the open lockers was a weapons bag which you were able to fill with the lackluster amount of supplies. As you zipped up the bag, the metal door to the room opened and the sound drew your attention. Your pistol was ready and you limped around the corner to hide behind a row of lockers to hide from who or whatever it was. The room was dark but a flashlight flipped around the room, whoever it was, they were there to look for those guns or you. Your thumb slowly pulled the hammer back on the weapon and rounded the corner, "Stop right there!" you yelled.

It was a man and he seemed to be normal for the most part. He complied and raised his arms in the air. "Turn around!" Again, he complied and did a slow 180. Through the faint glow of his flashlight, your eyes caught a glimpse of a set of familiar moonstone pools.

"[Y/N]?!" his voice raised in shock. The entire city was faced with an apocalypse scenario or even the whole world for all you knew and the one person you run into is Leon -- Leon Kennedy.

He dropped his arms and grabbed hold of your, then pulled you into a tight hug. Leon smelled of sweat and cologne, the very cologne that you bought for him as a graduation gift. You breathed him in as it registered to you that this was real, he was really here. But you pulled away, "Leon, we have no time for chit chat. We gotta get moving, people need these guns!" you pointed to the bag that sat on the floor by your feet. As you tried to throw it over your shoulder, you winced in pain. "Here, let me get it." Leon attempted to take it from your hand but you paused before you surrendered the precious cargo, "I can trust you with this, right?" your grip was tight on the strap, "When have you ever doubted me?" he asked with a smile, "You don't want to know that..." your grip released as you responded but also pointed the fact that your leg was injured.

"Sorry to be a liability," you apologized, but Leon pulled you to his side, "Nonsense. I got this and you, just keep an eye out for zombies."

You led Leon down the hallway that you had your close brush with death in, the zombie, as Leon called it, was now gone. But when the two of you reached the door to the office, it was eerily quiet. Not a good sign. You pushed the door open to find the office void of any life, nothing but blood. Lots and lots of blood. Your heart hurt as you felt a pain in your chest, was everyone dead? The lifeless body of Rita laid on the floor with her eyes opened, her brown orbs were absent of the vibrant life she once had.

Tears welled in your eyes but as you turned to flee, you bumped into Leon's chest. A look of horror on Leon's face matched yours, "I-I left them not even an hour ago..." you cried into his shirt for a moment as he held you lightly with one arm. When you pulled away, you wiped your eyes and Leon took your hand from your face.

"I'm happy you're alive, [Y/N]," you examined your matured features and you did his. His hair grew a little longer than when you had seen him last and he examined your frazzled locks. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, a door behind Leon opened and shut. A man walked out from the shadows and into the light, it was Branagh. He held onto his side and you could see he was injured with his shirt heavily stained with what was most likely his blood.

Leon pulled his pistol out and pointed it at your superior while he had a protective hand on your arm. Branagh coughed a wheezed laugh and shooed his gun out of his face. He looked over to you and smiled, "Good to see you're still breathing, [Y/N]." The Lieutenant approached your male companion and placed a bloody hand on his shoulder,

"You must be Leon Kennedy -- well, son, welcome to Raccoon City."

#resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil x reader #ao3 original

[5uptic]

hey fanfic spotlight again:)

arm candy by amsves (5up/Fundy, general rating, m/m | 300 words)

Summary: The first thing Fundy does after the stream ends is lean over and engulf 5up in his arms.

a chance encounter by mangoedges (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 450 words)

Summary: Who would have thought Apollo would find his soulmate now?

Desecration Smile by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: No summary.

She said to me, Oh Death / Come close my eyes by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve thought the words on his wrist were the coolest thing ever, but they just didn’t make sense. No, really; he even asked 5up–had called him in a possibly drunk state on his twentieth birthday, when a prickling sensation on his arm made him think that he was about to die, 5up, help, and was reminded drily that it was his soulmark, dumbass–and the best his smartest friend (self-proclaimed) could offer was, “Maybe your soulmate’s a poet?” Completely useless. Steve remembered hanging up on him, the click of his mobile cutting off his indignant exclamation. It was only the next day that he looked, properly looked, at his soulmark and tried to make sense of it. Nope. That didn’t work out either; he blamed the hangover. For the longest time ever, he just dismissed it as the universe fucking up. A slash in the middle of a phrase? Ridiculous.

why’d you only call me when you’re high? by LVTO (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: “I miss you,” Steve mumbles through the phone, and his voice has that soft, honest tone that it always does when he’s like this. 5up’s heart clenches. It’s these moments that keep him from leaving like he should’ve done four months ago, these soft-spoken truths that time and time again have him believing that maybe, maybe this time will be different. It never is. or 5up receives a phone call and ponders his life.

jealousy, jealousy by planetwitch (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: 5up and Fundy are best friends and have never crossed that line into something more. Until Fundy gets jealous at 5up's constant admiration for a certain 6 foot tall musician.

mimi's menagerie of the miraculous & the mundane by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a drabble for the word of the day, every day, for 100 days.

5up & Co. Throw Yarn at a Wall (and more) by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 1.3k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Hafu neither confirmed nor denied, instead snatching the half unraveled ball of yarn out of his hands forcefully, a cheshire grin finding its way onto her face. Before 5up could clearly decipher the situation, she flung it at him, smacking him directly in the center of his face. or 5up loves throwing yarn at walls, and everyone else quickly picks it up from him. But in different ways.

Inside My Mind by SilverSprinklez10 (5up/Apollo, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.4k words)

Summary: Soulmates are usually a blessing.  But sometimes, a soulmate connection can feel like a curse.

(2021, 190 x 172 cm, oil on canvas) by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.9k words)

Summary: Nobody ever painted anything if they’ve never painted the way 5up closes his eyes when he laughs, how his slender fingers wrap around a new tube of paint, how his smile is all teeth and eye-crinkling. Cabanel’s Fallen Angel has curls, but they aren’t 5up’s, are they? Hyllas, in the nymphs, has fair and delicate hands but 5up’s are prettier, especially when he accidentally squirts paint everywhere and slams his palms on the table and goes “fuck!” Steve cackles until he can’t breathe.

Don't Take Me Tongue-Tied by AoDity, LovelyDayForIt (5up/Sleepy, 5up/Apollo, teen rating, m/m | 2.2k words)

Summary: "Sleepy found the ring by luck, something that matches his lover's graceful beauty that he could still afford. Twisted strands of thin silver with a little shimmering opal in the center, it was perfect." Aka: Sleepy's love for Five brought him heartache. If they try, there's still a chance the two could be happy.

implying that the ferris wheel's your body (and i'd really love admission to it) by homeward_bound (David/Hafu/Steve, mature rating, multi | 2.2k words)

Summary: Steve might be drunk out of his mind, but David's just really hot, okay? [or, steve propositions david, kind of. hafu and dumbdog bear witness to his lapse in judgement.]

mi casa es su casa by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.9k words)

Summary: Apollo's soulmate is cautious. Except, apparently, when it comes to coffee. Because, for the fifth time this week, Apollo wakes up to a burnt tongue. It's annoying. He can't really be mad though, because he has given his soulmate so much worse. The occasional burnt tongue is a meager act of penance, comparatively.

I love you too (I love you too) by some_spooky_shit_right_there (5up/Apollo/Steve, general rating, multi | 3.9k words)

Summary: Apollo comes into 5up's coffee shop. He always gets a cup of coffee and either a bagel or a croissant. He always seems tired, and he never comes in on weekends. Steve would really love to find out just who, exactly, he is.

i'm more fool than wise by 5fu (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steven Suptic is a brilliant crewmate - ask anyone. Okay so don't ask Janet. Or Dk. Or Koji. You know what, don't even ask - it's pretty obvious he is. But when new recruit and stunningly intelligent 5up boards the Crewfu, Steve isn't so sure he can compete. Not that he cares. Totally. Absolutely. On their mission to gather intel on Polus and find out what happened to the previous crew that disappeared from the planet three years earlier, Steve may realize that maybe he was indeed more fool than wise - and maybe it wasn't a bad thing.

i was praying that you and me might end up together by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 7.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Four years at Polus University. Four first weeks of school. Two strangers become two friends, and maybe even something more. Apollo hates being seen, hates having attention drawn to him, hates living in a world that feels like a game where everyone knows the rules except him. Steve thrives on attention, purposefully draws the gaze of everyone in the room, making his own rules as he floats through life. They're a match made in hell, but Apollo finds that when Steve looks at him, gives him nothing but attention, he doesn't mind being seen after all.

Long Journey Home by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 9.6k words)

Summary: Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue Feeling kind of blue, boys, feeling kind of blue Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue I'm on my long journey home

there’s so many ways to say “i love you” and i wouldn’t wanna waste ‘em (on someone who, don’t feel it too) by Dear_MaedaysUnwelcomedGhost (5up/Steve, 5up/Hafu, 5up/Ellum, 5up/Kimi, teen rating, multi | 13k words, chaptered)

Summary: Love was a strange thing, 5up found. It was everywhere. And not in the way it may seem. It wasn’t in the adverts of perfect couples with artificial lighting. It wasn’t in the glittery cards made by factories or the flowers sold at grocery stores. Not in the TV shows made to bring in cash and be thrown out, with couples who don’t have anything to hold onto but brief infatuation and physical attraction. But in the friendly smiles of strangers as they pass by. In a mother cutting fruit up for their child. Running a hand through the hair of your partner, as their eyes flutter close and to sleep. Helping a stranger pick up their dropped papers, asking for nothing in return. In the graffiti on the wall by the alleyway you walk by everyday to get to work. To the goods baked by small independent bakeries. Flowers planted in parks to make it just a little nicer, or the ones growing out of pavement cracks with determination.

Also!

GuardianPuppy‘s this city needs to be destroyed or at least painted in a different color collection.

spaded_ace’s Casino in the Sky collection.

5fu’s among all this pain collection.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

#crewfu #fanfic spotlight #long post #finally a steve/dogfu fic.... come kiss me author

[jjmaybud]

sunrise | drew starkey

summary: you get a job writing for outer banks and get close to the cast, one more than the others.

pairing(s): drew starkey x fem!reader, fem!reader x platonic!outer banks cast, fem!reader x little!brother

word count: 3.36k

warning(s): fluff, swearing, alcohol use.

author’s note: I had the cutest idea when I was taking a power nap. this is my first time writing an imagine as well as my first time posting something like it on tumblr. I hope you like it. (Y/B/N=your brother’s name.)

It was your first day on the set of Outer Banks. You had already got through the hard part of working with the original writers on the script for the new season. You were quite young compared to the other writers, being in your early to mid-twenties, and the only woman. You were pretty stunned that you had gotten a call about their wanting your creative insights.

You had already met the cast and loved every single one of them. Since you were now a writer, you were present during their script reading and offered help when it was needed. Each member treated you with love and respect, and you loved that you were able to fit right in. Madison Bailey made sure to come up to congratulate you on landing the job because “we needed a female perspective too, fuck the patriarchy.” The both of you high fived because, hell yeah, girl power.

You intently watched as each actor read through their script. The chemistry between each of them was magical, and you couldn’t believe you were able to witness it first hand. As your eyes scanned the room, you’d make the occasional eye contact with Drew Starkey, the actor who played Rafe Cameron. A shared, polite smile came from the both of you each time you noticed your eyes locked.

Drew proved easily that he was nothing like his character, not that you thought he was, by coming up to you directly after the reading was over to introduce himself.

He held out his hand and stated his name. You took his hand in yours, giving him a firm handshake and noticing how warm his hand was without the sweat or claminess.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself in turn, even though he already knew who you were from the beginning of the meeting when they introduced you. “I’ve seen a few of your other works, too. I think you are a perfect cast for Rafe.”

A modest blush appeared on his cheeks as he grinned. The conversation went on a few more moments, but there were a couple other cast members who wanted to get a few words in with you.

Now, you were standing on set, watching Rudy and Madison shoot a particularly serious scene that you had a good hand in writing. Rudy’s character, JJ, was talking about the reality of being a Pogue. That you were born poor and eventually died poor. That the gold was his chance to not die living the same life he’s always had. The sun was setting, and it would add to the dramatic effect of his words cinematically. JJ’s monologue hit close to home, as it did when you wrote it, and you had to walk away to have a moment.

Drew’s scene had just wrapped, and he was done for the day. He found you walking past where the scene had taken place and watched you step up on a sandbank to get on higher ground, making sure you weren’t in anyone’s way. As the day’s final rays of sunshine slowly disappeared, he saw your left hand in the air to hold onto it for as long as you could before it was gone and it was left lighting up the rest of the sky in an orange hue. Your hand fell and both of them placed themselves on your jean cladded hip. He didn’t know how you were handling the heat in jeans even though they had large rips in the front. The peach colored tank top was the only thing that made sense. Your head fell back with your eyes closed, and he could hear the sigh from where he was standing.

It dawned on him that he was staring at you.

To make it less awkward, he made his way up the sandbank to stand next to you. He noticed the sweat and realized you actually weren’t handling the heat as well as he thought. When he noticed the tear in the corner of your eye, he looked out towards the horizon respectfully. He watched as boats were sailing back to shore from their day’s worth of fun in the ocean and as lights flickered on along the boardwalks.

You knew someone was standing beside you as you had your moment. Their arm brushed your elbow in the humid air when they first came up to you. You could smell their cologne and deduced that it was Drew. Somehow, from the first time you had met, you stored the way he smelt in the back of your mind. It was quiet as a small breeze picked up, blowing the hairs that had escaped from your ponytail and the sand stuck to your exposed legs. It did little to cool the two of you down.

You knew he was waiting for you to speak, not wanting to intrude on your moment of solitude.

“I grew up poor in a small, middle-class town in the middle of corn fields,” you began, not opening your eyes or lifting your head. You could feel Drew’s eyes on the side of your face as you confessed your change of mood. You were ecstatic to be where you were, working alongside great writers, directors, and actors, and had the same energy all throughout the day. No matter what was thrown at you—a scene didn’t work the way you thought, a scene needed to be added to smooth out some awkward cuts between other scenes, an actor needed help getting to the frame of mind the scene needed—you took it in strides and was up for the challenge. “Dreaming is the only way to get out of there. And I did. I dreamed of all the ways I could get out of that stupid town. Picked something I was good at. Stuck with it. Stayed angry until I made it. And today—”

You opened your eyes and turned to look into Drew’s. You managed to keep eye contact for a few moments before you got too shy and turned to look at the cast and crew milling about.

“Watching Rudy do his scene made me realize—”

“You made it,” Drew interrupted, making you turn back to him. Tears gathered in your eyes, and his facial expressions softened.

You nod, “And I don’t have to be angry anymore.”

You started to laugh and wiped the tears away as best as you could, but the gates had opened. Drew aw’d and pulled you into his chest while wrapping his arms around your shoulders despite the heat.

“Group hug?” You heard Rudy yell. The sound of his feet scraping against pavement before silence as he trudged up the sandbank and wrapped his arms around you and Drew. “Group hug, everybody!”

You turned your head in time to see Chase, Madelyn, Madison, and JD racing towards the three of you—the other cast members were either already in their trailers or gone for the day. You felt Rudy lay his head between the top of yours and Drew’s chest, humming in satisfaction. Madelyn beat the other three, and she found the perfect spot on your other side, laying her head on Drew’s arm and looking down at you with a smile. You smiled back at her but was blocked from seeing where everyone else had ended up.

After enough seconds passed where you were sweating worse than before, JD asked from behind you, “Why are we group hugging?”

“I have no idea. I saw Drew and Y/N start it,” Rudy answered.

You catch Madelyn wiggling her eyebrows causing you to laugh.

Drew cleared up the confusion and said, “She had the moment.”

A chorus of “ah’s” erupted through the group, and you sunk deeper into Drew’s chest. Heat swam from your neck up into your cheeks, and it wasn’t because of the weather.

“Don’t worry,” Chase said from somewhere behind Rudy. “We all had that moment at some point.”

A few more seconds passed of you being sandwiched between everyone’s sweaty bodies before you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, alright. I can’t do it. I’m going to sweat my skin off if we keep touching each other,” you announced. Everyone was thankful for your outburst as they quickly pulled away and tried to air themselves out. Your hands went to your chest as you tried to wipe away the excess sweat build up. You saw Drew tugging his shirt open and close to air out his chest, and that’s when you noticed the cleavage shaped sweat spot on his shirt. “Oh, shit. You don’t have any more scenes today, do you?”

You started to quietly laugh as you grabbed his shirt to inspect the mark you made. Your eyes turned up to look him in the face and found a smile on his face as he looked down on you. You felt your cheeks heat up once again.

“Nope, you got lucky. You would’ve had to explain to wardrobe why I had to change my shirt.”

You tried to shove him away, but he only budged a little and that was just because of the unstable sand beneath the two of you.

∴∵∴∵∴∵∴

“Okay, what are the rules?” You asked your little brother as you prepared to host the cast at your apartment. It was one of the few weekends where the cast and the crew had a few days off to recuperate. Your teenage brother had been begging to come down to meet the cast and see how his favorite show was being made since he found out you would not only be writing for the new season but on set of filming.

“Don’t be weird, and don’t hit on the girls.”

“Good.” You grabbed an oven mitt and reached into the oven to pull out the pig-in-a-blanket you’d made for the get together. As you were doing this, there was a knock on the door. “Y/B/N, could you get that?”

You put the pan on the stove as your brother opened the door. You heard your friends before you saw them. Cheers erupted from them as they saw your brother and a mixture of handshaking and hugging went around as they shuffled in.

Drew was one of the first inside your apartment. He was wearing a grey sweatshirt and jeans in the cool, air conditioned apartment complex. In his hand was a six pack of beer, and he looked around for the kitchen before laying his eyes on you. A smile broke out on both of your faces as your eyes met.

Over the month of shooting, the two of you had been getting closer. You had exchanged numbers with most of the cast, but he was the only one you had been texting every day. Most of it was what you considered harmless flirting as you sent cheesy pickup lines, memes, and song suggestions, but you didn’t really know where your relationship with him was heading. You wanted to keep it professional, but you couldn’t deny what your heart was telling you.

The both of you stepped towards each other.

“Hey, Y/N. Thought you said your little brother was coming to town?” Drew teased, pointing out the fact that your little brother was, in fact, closer to Drew’s size than your own.

You stood up straighter and stood on the tips of your toes as you flexed your exposed arms to seem bigger.

“What do you mean? Can’t you tell I’m bigger?” You kept this up until you were able to chest bump him. It hurt you more than it did him. The sound of your laughs rumbled through each other’s chest as you hugged. It didn’t slip your mind how much closer your lips were when you stood on your tiptoes.

The night went on, more drinks went around, games were played—including a game of monopoly split up so it was girls vs pogues vs kooks where they were trying to see who was actually better at handling money. The girls won. You sat near Drew, and there were enough “accidental” touches that your little brother, who was sitting diagonal from you by Deion and Madelyn, was picking up on the vibe that he had not been aware of beforehand.

It was going on four in the morning before you noticed that your little brother was slumped into the chair he was sitting on, his head bobbed with sleep. The group lost Deion, Austin, and Madison, but everyone else was still going pretty hard. Drew’s participation in the group’s discussion got quieter, but you could tell it was because his eyes were getting heavier as he sunk further into the couch. You finished the rest of your beer before standing up to convince your brother to move to your bedroom. It wouldn’t hurt for you to sleep on the couch or the floor.

When you came back, the energy of the group died down as they realized just how tired they were as well.

“Damn, four in the morning. You know how to throw a party, Y/L/N,” Chase said as he pulled Madelyn up off the floor. JD was at the door trying to pull on his shoes while standing up but kept losing his balance. Eventually, he just gave up. Rudy was passed out in between the couch and the coffee table with half of his body under the table. Drew’s eyes were closed, his hands clasped on his stomach, and his feet planted on the floor with Rudy’s legs under him.

“And we didn’t even have to leave the building,” you laughed. You hugged the three friends as they were the only ones prepared to leave—with the exception of JD who decided to just carry his shoes. Once they left your apartment, you stumbled in your slightly intoxicated state to the coffee table and picked up all the empty beer bottles. As quietly as you could, you dumped the trash in the garbage can before getting into the fridge to grab yourself another beer.

You walked over to the door leading to your balcony. The beer in your hand almost slipped out of your grip when you heard Drew’s voice from behind you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice soft but still too loud in the quiet room.

“I’m gonna drink one more out on the balcony. Wanna come?”

It took him a second, but he eventually nodded his head and prepared to lift himself without waking Rudy. When he was finally on his feet, he stumbled slightly making you laugh quietly. A tired smile played on his lips at the sound. You held the door open for him before sitting down on the bench pressed against the window on your small balcony. Drew sat down next to you and allowed you to rest your legs over his lap. His hands found your bare calves, and he rubbed his thumbs on the exposed skin. You opened your beer and sipped it as you stared out to the dark sky. It was a comfortable silence until Drew noticed the little chill tremors shooting through your body.

“Cold?” You nodded which prompted him to pull off his grey sweatshirt to give to you.

“You don’t—” Your words stop in your throat as he holds the sweatshirt out to you. You sit up and hand him your beer to hold as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It was a great deal larger than you, and your hands swam in the sleeves, but you loved the way his cologne engulfed you.

After you were situated back with your drink, Drew said, “Your brother’s cool.”

You smiled, “Yeah?” He nodded. “I told him not to be weird. He’s a big fan of the show.”

Drew smiled a dopey smile and teased, “Turns out he ain’t the only one.” Your brows furrowed in confusion which only made him smile bigger. “You were quoting Outer Banks the entire night.”

Your eyes widened, “I didn’t!”

He laughed out loud and nodded his head, “You did. No one really noticed because we do it too sometimes.”

There’s a pause before you deadpan, “I must’ve been under duress.”

He threw his head back this time as he laughed and you giggled watching him. The banter went back and forth effortlessly as time went on, and Drew’s hand had made its way up to your knee. You noticed the sky was lighting up from the pitch black it had been.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen an actual sunrise,” you admitted, taking the last sip of your bottle and placed it on the ground.

“How is that?”

You shrugged, “I mean technically I’ve never seen it rise from the horizon. I always had too many trees in the way.”

It was quiet for a few minutes as you watched the sky become brighter and brighter. You really wouldn’t be able to see the sunrise from here either. Your apartment faced the wrong way.

“The beach is just down the street,” Drew pointed out. “We could get there before sunrise.”

“Really?” Drew nodded.

The next thing you knew, the two of you were racing down the street in order to beat the sun. The two of you giggling as you more so than Drew stumbled down the street. Laughs filled the air as you launched yourself over a bench to land on the sandy beach. The sky was much brighter, and there was only a few minutes left before the sun would be peeking over the Atlantic Ocean. The breeze was cooler in the morning, and you turned into Drew’s side to keep yourself warm, holding his arm close to your body.

The first rays of sun poked through and all thoughts of your warmth washed away from your mind. Stepping closer to the rolling waves, you raised your left hand to the sky. Similar to what you’d done the first day on set during sunset. Drew had asked you why you did it, and you told him it was because you wanted to be the last one to say goodbye before it came back tomorrow.

Unbeknownst to you, Drew held his hand up to the sky with you. He wanted to know why it was important to you. What went through you that made this simple gesture needed? The sun finally peaked up from behind the horizon. You looked up to see the sun caressing your hand as if to say good morning to you. Your eyes fell back to the sunrise as a smile spread across you lips.

You felt someone’s fingers intertwined with yours, and you turned to see Drew with his hand held up to hold yours. You glanced at your hands as the sun danced down your arms and enveloped his face in its rays. Your breath hitched in your throat as you brought your hands down next to you. The two of you turned your bodies so they were facing each other and watched the sun lighten up your features.

His blue eyes were soft in the sunlight, and his lips looked softer. His clear skin radiated as the sun flickered over it. The breeze blew his ungelled hair in slow tugs, and you couldn’t fight the feeling spreading through your chest as the sunrise warmed it.

“I think I like the sunrise on your face better,” you whispered.

The hand that wasn’t holding yours placed itself on the side of your neck. Drew’s eyes glanced at your lips before they closed and his lips were on yours instead. The kiss was slow and affectionate. The warmth of the sun couldn’t compare to the warmth that erupted from his touch. You wanted to bask in him for as long as you could and even then, you wanted to face the night with him.

After a long moment, you regrettably pulled away and met his forehead with yours. His eyes were still closed and a content smile replaced your lips. Your face mirrors his as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

There in the quiet, with the threat of a hangover in your future, you and Drew stood in the sunrise.

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #outer banks #obx #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey fluff #outer banks fluff #obx fluff #rafe cameron fluff

[hpkinktober]

Almost a month after HP Kinktober ended, I have finally created a complete masterlist of the wonderful Drarry works we were gifted with from this astoundingly creative community. Since I am only human, please let me know if anything is wrong with this post (broken link, mispelled author name, etc). 

Day 1: Foreplay 

Love Me Like Red Wine by @triggerlil​ (M, 290) 

Harry prepares a meal, but Draco can't focus on the food. It's not his fault that Harry's so damn attractive.

Foreplay by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

In which Draco wears sky-blue, lacy bikini knickers. 

Kiss Him All the Way Up by @chuckweasley​ (M, Digital Art) 

Is Harry into feet? Does he want to kiss Draco on every square inch of his body? Is he kissing a trail from his toes up? You decide!

Water Spirit by @laurisophi​ (E, 703) 

Harry wants to surprise Draco for their anniversary and show more of himself.

"You look like a lake spirit, bath by the moon, covered in green.” He kisses your shoulder and one hand slides over your back, your side, your hip.

A ficlet for the first day of HP Kinktober 2020: foreplay.

Day 2: Instant Darkness Powder 

Under the Cover of Darkness by @manixzen​ (M, 2k) 

Thanks to Pansy, Draco's stuck at a party with a whole bunch of drunk Gryffindors. And now they want to play party games. If only Draco can slip out unnoticed before this gets any worse.

Instant Darkness Powder by @ladderofyears​ (M, 116) 

Auror Partners Harry and Draco are trapped in the dark. Flirting ensues.

A Smoke Afterwards by @chuckweasley​ (M, Digital Art) 

I wonder who’s holding the lighter...

Day 3: Polyjuice 

Prompt: Polyjuice by blackswingsblackwords (T, 349) 

In which there is (supposed to be) roleplaying.

Polyjuice by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100) 

Harry takes Polyjuice Potion so Draco can fuck himself. 

Polyjuice by CuriousEmWanders (E, 985)

In which Draco lets his curiosity and obsession get the best of him. He just needs to know what Harry looks like. How else is he supposed to find out?

Day 4: Amortentia 

Occupational Hazard by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Potions Master Draco has been brewing Amortentia. 

Prompt: Amortentia by blackwingsblackwords (T, 463)

In which there is a secret relationship. 

Smells Like You by CuriousEmWanders (E, 3.1k) 

Draco may not smell anything in his Amortentia, but that doesn't stop him from taking it to help him submit to his Dom de jour. 

Day 5: Spell Play 

A Magic Number of Orgasms @ladderofyears​ (E, 100) 

Harry and Draco experiment with a sex spell. 

Just Let Go by @manixzen​ (E, 3.4k) 

Draco struggles with letting go of his need for control, both at work and at home. Harry can help.

Prompt: Spell Play by blackwingsblackwords (T, 1.1k) 

In which an exhausted dad dates a smitten hero.

Day 6: Parseltongue 

Lucky Bloody Serpent by @ladderofyears​ (G, 100) 

When Harry gets a pet snake, Draco gets (a tiny bit) jealous.

a simple thank you can go a long way by @crimsonhead-ache​ (E, 2.7k)

The one where Draco needs to thank him and Harry allows him.

Also Parseltongue.

And dicks.

Draco’s Favorite Thing by CuriousEmWanders (E, 1.2k)

Draco has a thing for when Harry talks to him in parseltongue, and he's glad Harry doesn't know. Or does he?

The Hottest Parselmouth by @chuckweasley​ (T, Digital Art) 

Draco cannot handle how hot Harry is when he’s speaking parseltongue, even though he has no idea what Harry’s saying.

Day 7: Creature!Fic 

I’ll Huff, And I’ll Puff, And I’ll Blow Your House In... by @ladderofyears​ (M, 100)

There’s a Werewolf on the loose and he’s out to get Draco! 

Thirst by @fluxweeed​ (E, 4.4k) 

The path of Malfoy’s scent is obvious; Harry hasn’t fed for days, so his senses are sharp. Deadly.

And Malfoy smells so good.

Day 8: Imperius

Imperius by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Harry and Draco are put under the Imperius Curse.

Non-con warning 

Day 9: Legilimency 

Legilimens by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Draco shares his sexual fantasies with his lover Harry. 

Day 10: Dark Magic Ritual 

Reanimation Ritual by @ladderofyears​ (M, 100) 

Draco performs a Dark Magic ritual to bring his dead lover Harry back to him. 

A Moment of Intent by @manixzen​ (E, 4.6k) 

Auror Harry Potter and Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy are on another case, this time a Dark Arts Ritual gone wrong. Surely, they won’t botch up yet another crime scene.

Day 11: Invisibility Cloak

Tryst Behind The Tapestry by @ladderofyears​ (E, 1k)

It's Eighth Year and Harry and Draco enjoy some very sexy - and very invisible - fun after dark has fallen at Hogwarts.

Invisibly Arouse (E, Digital Art) by @chuckweasley​

The boys get frisky under the cloak!

Day 12: Duelling

Duel by @ladderofyears​ (M, 365) 

Harry and Draco practice duelling and things get a little heated.

Prompt: Dueling by blackwingsblackwords (T, 534)

In which a lesson is learned.

Cut Me Open (and use me) by @triggerlil​

Draco is the heir to the throne of England. Harry is a nobleman who wants to reclaim his honour. Somehow, these two things are intimately linked. Enter a sword, a dagger, and the hands of God, and you have a story about two men with tongues like knives, learning to lick love off sharp edges.

Day 13: Mirror

Deep Dark Truthful Mirror by @ladderofyears​ (E, 2k)

Draco shows Harry a very old, very powerful magical object: a mirror that will show his deepest, darkest sexual desires.

Getting Ready for Harry by @chuckweasley​ (G, Digital Art) 

Harry likes Draco in glitter and cozy sweaters...don’t we all?

Day 16: Magic Sex Toys 

hot damn, hot water, hot shower by @crimsonhead-ache​

Harry was more than ready for a long soak, a nice glass of firewhiskey, and twelve hours of sleep.

Too bad life never works out the way it's planned, or is it?

Colour, love?  by @choulatte​ (E, 7.7k) 

Holding Harry’s gaze, Draco took out the lube and let his fingers dance over the golden cockring he'd previously kept hidden, liberally coating it in the slippery substance. He watched how Harry’s eyes followed his movements, a desperate groan escaping the other man when he finally recognized his fate.

Draco merely smiled.

Both by @chuckweasley​ (E, Digital Art) 

Harry knows Draco likes to be filled.

Day 17: Room of Requirement 

No Fantasy Required by @manixzen​ (E, 4.1k) 

The Room of Requirement has never quite recovered from the war. It seems hell-bent on fulfilling every need of students and faculty alike, in or out of the room itself. Professors Potter and Malfoy really wish it would stop trying to do the students’ homework, though.

The Room Of Requirement Always Provides by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Just a hundred words of Draco and Harry having some smutty fun in the Room of Requirement.

Day 18: Herbology 

Knowledge by @ladderofyears​ (E, 100)

Harry and Draco inhale sex pollen.

Day 19: Hair Pulling 

Yeah, Pull it Harder by @chuckweasley​ (E, Digital Art) 

The sex is very good. 

Day 20: Veritaserum 

Neither Of Us Have To Say A Single Word by @ladderofyears​ (T, 365) 

When Draco is being badly bullied, Harry steps in and looks after him. Pre-slash.

A Bit of Honesty by @manixzen​ (E, 3.6k) 

A Hogwarts ball, a spiked punch, Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy on chaperone duty… what could go wrong?

Day 21: Dragonhide 

Dressing Up by @ladderofyears​ (T, 333) 

The Potter-Malfoy family negotiate the tricky issue of Halloween costumes.

All Wrapped Up by @chuckweasley​ (E, Digital Art) 

The boys take care of each other the best they can. 

Day 22: Gillyweed 

The Shape Of Love by @ladderofyears​ (E, 200) 

Harry and Draco take Gillyweed and make love in The Black Lake. 

Day 25: Tattoos 

Tear it down piece by piece by moonstruckmuse (E, 7.8k) 

Draco just wants to get rid of this stupid Dark Mark. Why is this so complicated?

His to Adorn, to Cherish, & to Keep by @maesmora​ (E, 1.4k) 

Draco Malfoy is many things: calm, collected, in control. At least until Harry Potter gets his hands on him, and those aren't the only things Draco lets Harry put on his body...

Day 26: Exhibitionism 

how can anybody have you and lose you and not lose their mind too? by @crimsonhead-ache​ (E, 3.8k) 

As soon as he received that letter in the post last week from Potter’s boyfriend, he knew he would be in for it. 

Day 27: Formal Wear 

I guess that’s just me, honey, I guess that’s how I’m built by @crimsonhead-ache​ (E, 4k)

The way they adorned Potter’s body like they were made for him made him want to kiss his seamstresses’ feet. The lines, the colors, brought out his skin tone like nothing ever could.

Well, except perhaps the ropes Draco keeps in the bottom drawer of his bedside table.

Harry Potter and his Great Big Suit Kink by @swisstae​ (M, 2k)

Harry really doesn’t want to say it. Not because he thinks Draco will judge, mind you, but because it’s so embarrassing. Harry Potter—Saviour of the Wizarding World—turning into an incoherent mess at the sight of his boyfriend wearing a suit.

Waste Not, Want Not by @dragontamerdame​ (M, Art) 

Harry may have gone a bit too far. 

Day 28: Floo 

the rush I get touchin’ you is somethin’ else by @crimsonhead-ache​ (E, 3.1k)

Harry frowned though; instead of feeling his joggers that had adorned his lower-half, now he felt the air hit his bare legs.   He was going to murder Draco.

come through the fire my love by @triggerlil​ (T, 534) 

Harry prepares for date night with Draco... until the man calls him through the floo to tell him he'll be late. Draco's just lucky Harry has a thing for fire.

Day 29: Wandless Magic 

Without a touch by moonstruckmuse (M, 207) 

Learning to do wandless magic. 

#hpkinktober #hp kinktober #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco/harry #harry potter/draco malfoy #draco malfoy/harry potter #drarry #kinktober drarry #drarry master list #drarry fic post #fic recs #drarry fics #drarry fic list #drarry rec list #harry/draco

[softboywriting]

Right Place, Right Time | Santiago “Pope” Garcia | Triple Frontier

Summary: You and Pope have known each other for years because of your ex. When you end up in a bad situation because of your brother, Pope is the last person you thought would end up saving your life. [Post Movie] [TW: Violence, gunshots, mention of drug running, hostage situation] [Film: Triple Frontier]

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist In Bio

The sound of a gunshot rips through the air, ringing in your ears and your heart stops. You huddle down into the cold porcelain tub you're handcuffed to, praying that you can get out of this situation alive. The situation has gone from bad to worse and you suspect it may get uglier.

You're not even meant to be here, you're a bartering chip because your brother fucked up and owes a cartel boss a fuck load of money. You can't even remember his name, Parade? Patron? Partida. That's it. Three days ago you got grabbed by three guys in a van outside your apartment in San Antonio Texas; had your hands tied up and mouth taped shut, tossed into the cargo hold on a small plane and flown for a long time then put in a trunk and driven for a longer time.

Since then you've been fine, no one has hurt you or made you feel uncomfortable other than the whole being held hostage. It's only been a day since you've been handcuffed, you started out much more comfortable in a small sunroom but you quickly ruined that luxury. Your back hurts from the awkward position you're forced to sit in. It's what you get for trying to make a run for it during a guard change.

It's been just under fifteen minutes since you heard commotion from the floor below you. Unmistakable sounds of struggle and loud thumping. Then came the gunshot. You have no idea who is shooting, if it is a guard or someone else with a gun. There are two more gunshots and you are certain that they've come from the stairs just outside the bathroom door. You have a feeling that there is a drug bust going on or a rival cartel is making a move. Either way you're in a bad position.

The hall outside the bathroom door creaks and you hold your breath. Maybe they won't check the bathroom. Maybe it's one of Partida's guards sweeping for intruders. Not that you'd rather it be a guard, but you'd rather not die or go to prison for being in a drug lord's house. You slide the curtain over quietly and lean your head back against the cold tile wall.

The sound of a man speaking catches your attention. It's low, unintelligible. You listen closer, trying to make out what they're saying but you're only catching pieces. It sounds like English.

"I'm going to sweep the rooms."

The door hand jiggles and you can't breathe. Sure enough the door creaks open and you hear someone moving into the room, heavy boots moving slowly across the floor. As long as they don't pull back the curtain it's fine. You're fine. They will take the shit they want and leave. Then you can make a run for it. Just don't open the- fuck.

You stare up at a blonde man with striking blue eyes. He's got a backwards baseball cap and a full tactical vest on. He looks American and you feel only fleeting relief, knowing that at least he doesn't appear to be part of a rival cartel in the country.

"Holy shit." He touches a com on his chest. "Pope, we got a girl up here, second floor bathroom. She's handcuffed to the tub."

"Copy that, I'm on my way."

Your heart soars. Pope. You know a Pope who is now ex military. Your ex boyfriend's squad leader was nicknamed Pope. You got together several times, had drinks with the squad and their significant others. You always had a thing for him, though you never let on since you were with Jude, your ex. The two of you got along far better than you and Jude ever did and you always wondered what if. It was a classic case of right person, wrong time. You can only hope that somehow on the gods green earth, this is going to be the same man.

"Hey sweetheart you know English?"

"Yeah, I'm American." You tug at the handcuff and it rattles loudly against the tub. "Got anything to get this off me?"

"Not on me. I'm gonna let Pope make that call."

Another man appears in the doorway. He looks similar to the one standing before you. Blonde, blue eyes, same jawline and build. "Ah fuck. Did you tell Pope yet?"

"He's on his way up."

A third man steps into view as the second man steps away. He's about the same height, dark curly hair with a bit of gray in the front, stubble, brown deep set eyes. It's him, Santiago "Pope" Garcia. He looks to the man in front of you and then to the one out of sight. They both exit the room and he enters, closing the door behind him.

"Santiago...Pope...holy shit, is this for real?"

"It is." He kneels beside the tub and you can see gray in his dark stubble. He doesn't look old enough to be graying, maybe late thirties or so, you can't remember. His eyes are soft, gentle as he looks at your wrist in the cuff. It's sore, red and rubbed raw. "This is the last place I ever thought I'd see you again. How the hell did you get here?"

"My brother owes Partida money, he did that private security gig here a while remember? He couldn't pay up so Partida took me and brought me here as a hostage. I've been here for three days."

Pope swings his gun around to his back and digs in the pocket of his vest. "He's kept you chained up for three days?"

"No, just one day. I was in the sunroom downstairs under a guard's watch until I tried to get out. I didn't make it far, obviously."

"Then he cuffed you. I got it." He pulls out a pair of pliers and goes for the chain around the pipe. "I want you to listen to what I'm about to say, and listen closely."

"O-okay?"

"If you're lying to me, and you try any funny business I cannot guarantee your safety. Just because we know each other, doesn't mean I can trust you entirely. I don't know you that well anymore. I'm cutting this chain and letting you go because I don't condone hurting women or hostages, and I want to believe you're telling me the truth."

"Of course I'm telling the truth, Pope. Fuck, we've known each other for years, yeah it's been a while but how many times did we get wasted together? Why are you here?"

He gives you a hard look but it smooths out, trust softening his features. "I'm trying to make a difference."

You rub your arm, massaging the bicep as you're able to relax it finally. It's been uncomfortably held at a weird angle since you were chained up. "You're here for the drugs? Are you a mercenary now or something?"

"Something like that." Pope stands and offers a hand to help you up. "You need to get out of here and get back home."

"I can't. I don't have any documents. How am I supposed to get over the border or get a flight?" You climb out of the tub and run a hand over your hair. "They brought me down here on a fucking crop duster hidden in the cargo hold."

Pope sighs, muttering under his breath and hooks his thumbs under the straps of his vest. "I'd say go to the embassy but I'm sure they're in Partida's pockets. Okay, I'll get you out of here, just go downstairs and wait for us to come down."

You nod and open the door, heading down the stairs and stopping short of the last step because there is a guard laying across the bottom steps and he is clearly not responsive. You close your eyes and tell yourself he is just unconscious as you step over his legs and go to the foyer. The front door is open and it's raining outside, the sky a sick green color. How did this happen? How could you have let your brother get in this much trouble? How did you let yourself get picked up outside your apartment? Fuck. You lean on the doorframe and you feel sick. You can't just go home. Partida will find you, his men will find you.

"Hey Handcuffs, you ready to go?"

You turn and see the blond with the baseball cap that initially found you. "Yeah, I'm not eager to stay."

"Pope says you're comin' with us. That he knows you. You're American right? Where you from?"

"Texas."

"Ah I see." He does a little two step move. "I've had a couple of good rounds in Texas. Nice place. Good food and better company." He adjusts his hat and you roll your eyes at him. "How'd you end up in Columbia?"

"My idiot brother." You scoff. "He was in private sector security and he stayed here for six months. Apparently he got in with the wrong people and then ended up owing more money than our childhood home is worth. He's so fucking stupid, he put me and everyone he's knows at risk and look at me now. I'm so fucked."

"Hey it'll be okay. Pope knows the right people, he can get you home."

"I can't go home! If I just go back to my apartment in San Antonio then Partida's men are going to hunt me down. They'll interrogate me about this, whatever this is!" You pace across the foyer. "I'm not supposed to be here, I'm not supposed to be part of anything! This is all my brother's fault and I'm really tempted to snap his fingers one by one when I see him again, if I see him again."

"Ouch. Trust me, Pope will get this right. Partida isn't going to be a problem much longer. Well, he ain't a problem now."

"What do you mean? Of course he's a prob-"

The other blonde comes down the stairs with Pope behind him. He's got a necklace in his hand with a cross on it. It's the one that Partida never goes without. The only way they could have gotten that is- Jesus fucking Christ what did Pope get into? "You got the matches Pope?" The blonde asks.

"You know I do." Pope says, tossing a bottle of some sort behind him.

"Don't you think maybe we should give some of this money in the house back to the people?"

"It's dirty money, it'll just find its way back to the next cartel that tries to take over the country. It's best we don't feed anything back into it. Let the people heal, free of Partida's grasp."

"Whatever you say, Pope."

Baseball cap and the other blonde grab bottles from a bag nearby like the one Pope tossed. You realize they're lighter fluid, or perhaps gasoline. They're going to burn the house to the ground with everything and everyone in it. "Come on, let's get this place good and soaked."

Pope walks up to you and lays his hand on your shoulder. "I never thought I'd see you again let alone in a place like this. Small world."

"Yeah, small world. What are you actually doing here? Seriously this is not a government mission."

"No, it's not. I've spent the last two years here trying to take down Partida. He was responsible for the death of my aunt and uncle a few years back. I worked with the local government for a while but they were all on his payroll. I met up with Benny and Will about doing this on our own. They hot some hard times so I told them they could keep as much cash as they could carry if they helped me and well, here we are."

You reach out and touch his jaw, there's a scratch you didn't see before and it's bleeding a little. You wonder if he knows it's there. "Never thought you'd do some cowboy shit like this."

He shrugs and looks away. "It's against everything I ever swore under oath but it's the right thing to do and we've got the skill set to do it. So many people suffer under Partida's rule. I've done something like this before in Brazil, it didn't turn out so well but it made a huge difference for the people and the government."

"Well I'm glad you are doing it. I've never been more relieved in my life than I was when I saw you walk into that bathroom. I was sure I'd end up dead or in prison or something far worse. I'm so far from home, and someone I know is saving my life, how did I get this lucky."

Pope chuckles. "I guess people are tied to each other once they meet. The invisible strings of fate. Seems that way anyway. How's Jude?"

"We broke up two years ago. It wasn't ugly, just a mutual falling out. He was being deployed to Turkey for a few years so it would have been rough."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that. Is he still there? I've not heard from him since I retired."

"Yeah. What about you? Still got that Brazilian girl? What was her name? Annamaria?"

Pope clears his throat and runs a hand over his hair nervously. "No, no she uh...she wasn't into my work. It didn't last long."

"That sucks, I'm sorry. She was a sweet girl."

"She was. Life goes on though."

"Alright we're done, let's light it up and go home." The blonde says and picks up the bag they got the lighter fluid from.

Baseball Cap claps a hand on Pope's back. "Let's get the hell out of dodge my man."

"Let's go." Pope says, laying a hand on your back and guiding you toward the doorway. "We've got a truck waiting on the other side of the highway."

_____________________

The way home isn't as easy as it should be even with Pope's connections. For Benny and Will, baseball cap and the blonde, it's easy as pie. Pope had already set up their fake passports and IDs before the mission. You end up staying with Pope at the place he pays weekly for in Medellin. It's a temporary apartment, all the furniture and appliances are supplied. It's perfect for a man on the move. You both know it's a risk to keep you in the country, should Partida's men decide to get retribution for their boss. Not that many knew who you were or why you were in his home, but either way, if any of them knew about you, this is going to get pinned on you. How one woman in her late twenties could take out several armed guards and a drug lord alone, you have no idea. You're not John Wick, but you're not completely off the hook.

You wake up to the early morning light pouring in the open window of the bedroom. You're covered in soft blankets, a bit too warm, but comfortable enough. Beside you Pope is asleep, his tan skin and dark hair such a contrast against the cream color bedding. He looks peaceful, serene in this state.

Sharing the bed had been your idea. It wasn't as if two adults couldn't share a queen size bed for a few nights. You weren't horny teenagers on a camping trip, forced to share tents. None the less your heart races when you see him inches away, lips parted slightly, eyes closed and his whole expression relaxed. He's gorgeous, rough but attractive beyond measure. He's older than you by a few years, a good eight at least, but you don't care. You definitely still want him.

"Good morning," he mutters, one eye opening to peek at you across from him. He smiles slow and sleepy.

"Good morning."

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Mmhmm."

Pope reaches out and closes the gap between the two of you, fingers gliding over your cheek. "You're flushed. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah." You bite your tongue as you stare pleadingly at the man across from you. Do you say something? Does he feel this vibe? Does his chest ache the way yours does right now? You can't decide what to say so you go with the first thing that comes to mind. "You've gotten some gray since I last saw you."

He grins, breaking out into a laugh and let's his hand fall from your face. "Stress and the military will do that to you."

"I like it."

His laughter lulls and he looks over at you once more. "You do?"

"Yeah." You reach out and touch the curls at the front of his head where they are streaked with gray. His hair is soft but full and thick, his latin genetics for sure. He won't be thinning anytime soon, just graying. "It's nice, makes you look distinguished."

"It makes me look like an old man."

"You're not that old."

"Thirty seven and I've got these grays like a fifty year old pushing sixty hard."

You run your hand into his hair, dragging your fingers up through the thickest bit. "Don't worry about it. Get some hair dye. The ladies will still be all over you with a face like this."

He chuckles. "Oh yeah? What if I don't want ladies all over me? What if I just want one." He rolls forward and leans over you. "Am I reading this wrong?"

"No, you're reading it perfectly right."

"Good." He leans in and presses his lips to yours. His hand slides into your hair and you melt. His kiss is everything you imagined, soft, gentle, loving. "I've got a place in Brazil, a condo in Rio."

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Maybe." He smiles and kisses you again. "Just for a bit until things cool down with Partida's men. I think you'll like Brazil."

You smile softly and close your eyes. "Fuck it. Why not? My job sucks in San Antonio. My parents are who knows where since they retired and my brother can figure it out himself. He put me into this mess, he can suffer a while wondering what happened to me."

"If he hadn't, we wouldn't be here." He presses his forehead against yours. "Never thought I'd see you again."

"I guess it's like you said, people are tied together by the universe once they meet." You run your hand through his hair and down his neck, twisting your finger in his curls there. "Maybe we were supposed to end up like this."

He presses another kiss to your lips and then to your jaw. "It was finally the right place, right time."

"Finally."

-------

end

Header imgae by @/delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

#triple frontier #triple frontier fic #oscar issac #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia #santiago garcia fic #santiago garcia imagine #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fan fic #fan fic

[thelullabyer12]

Rät

I come from scientists and atheists and white men who kill God They make technology high quality complex physiological Experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good They taught me everything Just like a daddy should

Almost everything Tommy knew, he learnt from Wilbur. How to make speeches, how to strategize, how to fight. They rebelled against Dream to make potions. They rebelled so everyone could benefit. They rebelled against tyranny. He would do anything for his brother. Tommy went to war with Wilbur but only found out what he lost afterwords. Sacrifices for everyone, put the burden on the children who fought for the land. The foundation of L’Manberg was blood, after all. 

And you were beautiful and vulnerable And power and success God damn I fell for you your flamethrowers Your tunnels and your tech I studied code because I wanted To do something great like you And the real tragedy is half of it was true

Wilbur was powerful and successful. He was general of an army, fighting against a nation much larger than his own. Tommy watched everything the brown haired man did. He wanted to be just like Wilbur. He wanted to be as charismatic and influential as his brother. He wanted to be great, to do great things. He ended up sticking with his brother to the end. He did end up doing great things, both of them. Both brothers ended up seeing their hard work blow up in front of them. Only one had a choice. 

But we've been fucking mean We're elitist We're as flawed as any Church And this faux rad west coast dogma Has a higher fucking net worth I bit the apple 'cuz I trusted you But it tastes like Thomas Malthus Your proposal is immodest and insane And I hope someday Selmers rides her fucking train

They ran for president. Tommy would have been Wilbur’s vice. The ones who fought with Wilbur, the ones loyal to him, would have been high ranking in their new government. Tommy trusted Wilbur. When they were exiled, Tommy stuck with his brother. The new government was flawed. Schlatt was a horrible president. He was drunk and abusive but he won the game of politics. Tommy hated him. He and Wilbur formed Pogtopia. He would have followed Wilbur to hell. Eventually, he did. 

I loved you I loved you I loved you it's true I wanted to be you And do what you do I lived here I loved here I thought it was true I feel so stupid I feel so used I feel so used

He loved his brother. Tommy felt broken when he died. As he saw the crater where his nation once stood, as he fought for what little remained, he loved his brother. He wondered if, at the time of his death, there was enough of Wilbur to love Tommy back. He fought for L’Manberg. He fought for his friends. He wondered what Wilbur fought for. He wondered how much was lies. He wondered how much his general used his blind loyalty. He still loved his brother. That’s what hurt the most. 

I was your baby Your first born The hot girl in your comp sci class And I was Darwin's prep school dream Bred born and raised to kick your ass I fell for circuit boards Rocket ships Pictures of the stars If you could only be what you pretend you are

Sapnap and George were left alone. The Dream Team. The ideal friendship. They were everything. They were strong and powerful. Two were genuine. Their leader wasn’t. The Dream Team fell apart. They should have seen the warning signs. They should have noticed Dream faking everything. They should have noticed the power hungriness. They watched the stars and fell into his trap. They should have noticed Dream’s manipulation. They were everything and then they were nothing. 

When I said take me to the moon I never meant take me alone I thought if mankind toured the sky It meant all of us could go But I don't want to see the stars if they're just One more piece of land for you to colonize For us to turn to sand

Dream ruled the SMP. He wasn’t a king or a dictator but he was the leader. He was a good leader for so long. Not all agreed. When Wilbur declared independence, George and Sapnap were the first to take Dream’s side. All three were ambitious and believed they could win. When the first battle came, George realized he was fighting and hurting his friends. Sapnap realized he was fighting children who didn’t truly know what war meant. Neither wanted the war to continue. Dream didn’t either. The war ended quickly. There were smaller battles, smaller wars. Nothing that involved a whole nation. No one in the Dream Team wanted that. As they kept upgrading, they watched L’Manberg have fun. They watched them lose and sometimes win. L’Manberg lost so much. Perhaps that was why it crumbled to dust when Schlatt came. 

Because we're so fucking mean We're so elitist We're as fucked as any church And this bullshit west coast dogma Has a higher fucking net worth I bit the apple 'cuz I loved you And why would you lie And then I realized You're just as naive as I am You're so traumatized it makes me wanna cry

Dream, George, and Sapnap. Some of the strongest fighters in the land. The best armor, the best weapons. They could buy, or steal, anything they wanted. The three of them trusted each other, relied on each other. Why would any of them betray the other two? Dream left them. He wanted more power. He landed himself in the prison and changed. He seemed smaller, sadder. Sapnap visited his old friend. He seemed traumatized. After the visit, Sapnap went to George’s houses. They talked. Sapnap returned to his own house and broke. 

You dumb bitch I loved you I loved you I loved you it's true I wanted to be you And do what you do I lived here I loved here I bought it it's true I'm so embarrassed I feel abused

He yelled at Dream in the prison. It reminded him of earlier arguments. Fights with clenched fists and subtle begs for Dream to go back to normal. Fights that broke their already crumbling friendship. Sapnap once wanted to be his friend. Confident and powerful. The land of the Dream SMP where Sapnap built his home. He should have seen the warning signs. His friend hurt him and now he didn’t know what to do. 

Well I don't wanna eat the rich I'd have to eat my hero's first And my tuition's paid by blood I might deserve your fate or worse But I don't need your goddamn money I don't need jack shit from you So when I speak you bet your life my words are true

Quackity was Schlatt’s right hand man. They were friends, perhaps more. He joint his votes with Schlatt’s during the election. When George bailed on him, Schlatt was Quackity’s hero. He went through so much to stay with Schlatt. He went through abuse, verbal, mental, and physical, to be with the president. He oversaw the Festival to keep power. He saw a young boy get torn apart by rockets to keep his position. He snapped by the end. He didn’t need Schlatt. He learn from the former president. He changed. 

Let me level with you man As someone guilty of the game I took the help I took the cash I would've taken your last name So if any girl on earth Should get to make a call about this It would be me and as I see it You're a dick

He tried to talk Schlatt out of it. By the end of his presidency, he was more drunk and crude then ever before. Quackity saw a man who had helped him and Quackity wanted him to be better. Schlatt wouldn’t change. Schlatt stiill saw himself as above others. Quackity rose up in the past few months. He took Schlatt’s help and influence. He took anything he was offered. Perhaps that’s why he wanted to help Schlatt. He saw Schlatt at his glory and his fall. He saw the best and worse and everything in between. Schlatt was beyond saving. 

So fuck your tunnels fuck your cars Fuck your rockets fuck your cars again You promised you'd be Tesla But you're just another Edison Because Tesla broke a patent All you ever broke were hearts I can't believe you tore humanity apart With the very same machines That could've been our brand new start

Fuck everything that Schlatt had. His power, his office, his mercenaries, his land. He tried his best to break the people who resisted him. He destroyed what the country stood for. He showed everyone his true colors at the Festival. He forced Technoblade into killing Tubbo with rockets. The same fireworks that could have signaled a new land. The same boy who represented the future. Schlatt destroyed L’Manberg, even if Wilbur was the one who blew it up. 

And the worst part is I loved you I loved you I loved you it's true And sometimes I feel like I still fucking do I lived here I loved here I thought it was true I'm so embarrassed I feel abused

The part that made shame rise in Quackity’s throat was that he did care about Schlatt. Maybe he still did. He lived in Manberg, he loved its president and yet he saw it turn to rubble. He was ashamed to have been the one who worked closest with Schlatt. Some people forgave him, some didn’t. Tubbo forgave him. He worked with Tubbo, after Schlatt’s death. He amassed enough power to still be part of the government. He wondered if it was worth it.

I feel so used I feel so used Take me to the moon Because I feel so used I feel so used

~~~

Inspired by Rät by Penelope Scott

Masterlist

https://thelullabyer12.tumblr.com/post/639129395216433152/masterlist-of-2021

#tommyinnit #wilbur soot #sapnap #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #quackityhq #jschlatt #mcyt #mcytblr #dsmp #dsmpblr #dsmp angst #tw abuse

[floggingink]

OH HERE WE GO LADIES IT’S RIVERDALE, CHAPTER EIGHTY: “Purgatorio”

I’m tuning in to be VERY entertained on the grounds that I missed almost the entirety of S4 and will not understand anything

we open with an incredible analogue comparing the football team to the Army, as men do construct rituals: football players get blown into the sky, etc., in a heartrending mash-up of Archie’s innocence + the American ideal/expectations/pipeline of masculinity

Archie Company is decked out appropriately to storm Hürtgen Forest

that art direction trope where a character’s hearing goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEE after an explosion……...delightful

the Vixens and friends cheering him on from the sidelines as if Archie can only process his unprocessable present through the lens of his past………...hits the spot

distressingly wood-based rifles for our purposes

Archie > Dawson: I don’t mind telling you I felt emotion upon Archie hoisting his war buddy over his shoulders to that quadruple-toned “Chivalric Archie Using His Strength for Good” tune, like when he broke his whole hand busting Cheryl out of Sweetwater River

WHEN HE SAW HIRAM LODGE, I’M TELLING YOU! 

Hiram’s dragon-scale gloves? absolutely savory; he would

“Yonkers” is one of those New York place names I don’t totally buy is real (Poughkeepsie is another)

the sepia-toned light in this hospital room rings true judging by all the Captain America fanfiction I’ve read; I also like the mint-colored hand towels draped on Archie’s bedframe bought, one assumes, using the Department of Defense’s Kohl’s Cash

Archie made Sergeant, which is the best ranking for a fictional character: important enough that they can be a leader, get into trouble; low-profile enough that you don’t have to write them in the room making terrible decisions; probably won’t die immediately, as a Captain or Private might be

Fifth period is AP English: Archie reads A Farewell to Arms to Corporal Jackson, a WWI novel by Hemingway that Jug definitely turned him onto

Christ, Archie looks good in that on-leave jacket thing

I like Jackson’s subtle graph paper-print hospital gown

Gay?!: was Jackson in love with Archie? is he gonna bus to Riverdale once he’s off his pain meds? RAS, is that you in there?

God you know I love that haunted-ass Exorcist wooden bench bus light lighting

how long has the WW been relocated under Pop’s??? I do NOT know what happened to La Bonne Nuit

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Fangs’ hair? his Tony Stark glasses? the girls’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” Burmese pythons? Toni’s headdress and immaculate glossed lip? 

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the only part of From Dusk till Dawn I’ve seen is Salma Hayek putting her toe in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth but judging from that I figure I’d like the rest 

The female gaze: Jesus Sweet Pea still looks good

Toni’s stage is flanked by twin pillars of melting candles and I would like someone to track those down for my bathroom

if they lay one hand on Pop Tate…

Betty appears to be, on her own, running the FBI training course. Betty is such a freak

Betty’s FBI-appointed psychologist is “Dr. Starling,” wears a great yellow blouse; Betty eats what appears to be a mini-sized Milky Way

her blond FBI trainer-boyfriend (uh) Glen appears to be an unholy fusion of Jimmi Simpson and that one actor with brown hair and really sharp light eyes whose acting credits I can’t think of right now, you know who I’m talking about (not the guy from Vampire Diaries)

I quite like her patterned blouse and I hate his yellow (gold?!) and blue tie

Please protect Betty: obviously we stan the Silence of the Lambs shit even as it remains infuriating Bryan Fuller couldn’t get his hands in it

Betty’s cat’s crying was so disturbingly baby-like that I had to leave the room once I realized it was in fact a cat

I’ve watched the Elisa Lam tape too many times in recent hours to handle this hallway shot

REALLY GROSS LICKING NOISES

the Trash Bag Killer coming at her was scary :(

Betty’s lovely blue knit cardi with the puffed sleeves!

50 Shades of Betty: clearing her throat before the doctor quite finishes her sentence—Lili Reinhart continues to be great at conveying “slightly perturbing subterranean tension”

was Charles a serial killer too??? oh damn!

Betty has been successfully holding off giving Glen a key to her place until now, an era that must come to a close

fellas, “Do I at least get a kiss?” is a bad move

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s new digs: exposed brick, bougiely avant-garde chandelier; possibly an elevator door right there behind the dude?

Veronica has married Hiram, to no one’s surprise

Chadwick looks like Jimmi Simpson and brunet Evan Peters plus a jaw

Veronica’s single-puffled-sleeved gown…..madamn (she has absolutely been taking secret birth control pills)

Summer + Blair = Veronica: of course Veronica would be great at Howard Ratner’s job; I MUST know what “specialty showcase haute couture offense” Vinnie has committed

T-Dubbs’ green jacket

Veronica pretended she was working at like, a department store? but she MISSED the EDGE post-day-trading

their apartment is so expensive that their bedroom is totally exposed

oh my god, Hermione

Best costume bit: please get me these satiny green high-waisted slacks?! and ugh her blouse has shoulder tassels……..she’s flourishing

“That’s threatening to an alpha like Chad.”

yes, they have a private elevator. fine.

Glen and Chad get their ties from the same Men’s Warehouse

“When that helicopter went down on the way to Martha’s Vineyard…”

you know kissing is 4-real when one person cups their hand to the back of the other person’s neck all close

I don’t understand the drop of the Glamergé egg but I appreciate that there is one and that Veronica is like, get this the fuck out of my house

Veronica’s shiny cropped tweed two-piece, Yvonne’s weird feathery coat that matches her bf’s shirt (you know she’s supposed to be “too much” because she’s got big hoop earrings)

God, Jughead is next and I’m not gonna be able to handle it

OH GOD IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT

Alphabet City?! the piano?? the fucking East Coast Beat typewriter shit—the day robe? I’m—READING CLUBMASTERS? FORSYTHE???

OH GOD HE’S DATING ANOTHER WRITER (she has nice pants)

Jughead eats: “that place you like” is a HOT DOG STAND in the middle of SOME GRASS

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead wears high-ankle light blue jeans, grey socks, and spectators that blend to create the illusion of wading boots. I’m going to commit a crime

Jughead doubts it: “So did Kerouac. And Hemingway. And Fitzgerald.” 

fuck yes I love Floundering Jughead, and his Pushy Agent who pronounces “career” like “Korea,” and the continuing tradition of Jughead getting kicked out of his house

I like Literary Grifter’s sweater

the Brat Pack, and most of the Rat Pack for that matter, were actors, but I assume RAS couldn’t resist the rhyme 

I was 100% afraid we were about to learn Cora was an uncomfortably-young undergrad

the musical cue as she reaches into her bag is absolutely as if she’s taking out a gun, and it might as well be! it’s the scariest thing in NYC: an unpublished manuscript

showrunners doing a classic I Love Lucy job partially concealing Vanessa Morgan’s pregnancy via medium close-ups, draping black clothes

Cheryl slowly turning to ask if doesn’t she look okay 10/10 icon

Cheryl’s pins: she has either a tiny spider or maybe a tick

Cheryl’s sheaths: the lacy red thing, amazing

why is Cheryl’s left hand gloved?

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl’s going to forge a Rembrandt, which unfortunately means she’s my favorite person on the planet (she does not look happy about doing this)

btw is Nana Rose an Immortal?

please tell me about Toni’s eyelashes

EXTREMELY HAUNTED DOLL?!

“Damn good coffee”: Archie’s earnest “Where are people gonna sit for the bus?” slayed me

fuck YEAH Ghoulies party house! terrible music but really good skull spray paint art

Jug looks LOW lol

Veronica’s blouse + buttons, impeccable

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Tabitha/Squeaky

the hellscape semi’s red backlighting and its skeleton’s red eyes

I like Linette’s glossy bomber!

the trucker who’s about to kill her can’t also be the Trash Bag Killer….truckers have to stick to too much of a schedule….but he could be Betty’s meandering serial

I loved this episode

NEXT WEEK: Archie brings the FBI down on some people paying their rent :(

#riverdale #i say #commentary #tropes

[eepytheartist]

TTTE: Magic Beyond the Engine

Greetings guys, gals, nonbinary pals and everyone in between. Welcome to the Information Page of TTTE: Magic Beyond the Engine, where you can get context to whatever the hell I post on here. There’s a lot and much is subject to change, so buckle up butter cups because we’re going for a ride.

Table o’ Contents

1. Basic Story

2. Characters

3. Personal Headcanons

4. Canonical Relationships within TTTE: MBtE

5. Other Notes

6. Link

I) Basic Story

   Several years ago in the year 20XX, a facility located in [REDACTED] was doing experiments involving a mysterious golden substance and what it could do for the human race. Its goal was to eliminate the need for high-maintenance engines to save money. However, much of what was done ended up being a total flop, except for one. A little girl, Madison [REDACTED] was the only successful trial the facility was able to produce. This girl didn’t know why or how she even got here, but knew that her family didn’t want her, and instead gave her up to this [probably very illegal] facility. For years the scientists running the experiment pushed her to her limits, training her to pull lines of cars weighing several tons. They were delighted by what she could do. They had finally compacted the strength and speed of an engine into a human. However, bad luck struck as the facility went belly up, when Madison was 21. News of the facility spread, and so did news about her. Humanity didn’t take her well, and she was labeled an outcast. Though, in the light of things with her negative fame, Sir Topham Hatt found out about her and thought she’d be a wonderful addition to the railway along with the new tank engine he just bought! So she was picked up by this cheeky little shit, and her story working alongside sentient engines unfolded.

II) Characters

   A) Thomas

      The one who picked up Maddy. He was awfully confused by her, but respected her nonetheless. Still his cheeky self that everyone seems to just adore, Thomas quickly became best friends with her, protecting her whenever she needed it. Thomas sometimes gets a little too cheeky, and pushes her off the edge. Pranks ensue and Thomas is usually left bumbling for apologies. Who knew something so small could be so dangerous. He also commonly gets called ‘Tommy’ by the wee lass, something he absolutely despises. It only fuels her need to use it.

         1) When human, Thomas stands at about 5′ 7″ or 170 centimeters. He’s clad in a simple hoodie that matches his paintwork with a big 1 on the back, and plain khakis. He wishes he could have something else, but he doesn’t get paid and his driver and fireman refuse to lend him money. His hair is fluffy and rather short and is a few shades darker than his paintwork. Maddy likes to braid it when she’s bored and he hates it. Her favorite part though, besides honking his bulbous nose like he was a clown like she does with James, is his eyes. They were a beautiful shade of ocean blue. If he wasn’t such a shit, she’d get lost. He can’t brag though, she basks in all the colors her friends have. 

“Why does she get to swear and I don’t? It’s not fair!” ~T

“Maddy’s an adult, Thomas.” ~E

“Well so am I you old fart!” ~T

   B) Maddy

      Little Maddy. Don’t call her Madison, she hates it with a passion and refuses to explain why. She currently stands at the age of 21, but looks much younger. She had overheard at the facility that a side effect of the mystery stuff was that she aged like an engine, so she could be around for hundreds of years if she wasn’t stupid. At just 5′ 3′’ or 160 centimeters, Maddy is the shortest out of all the engines on the railway, even Bill and Ben. Her hair is a medium shade of brown, kind of long, and it mostly covers one of her eyes, which are, as Thomas describes, “As if the sky could make steel.”. Shy when you first meet her, Maddy is quick to come out of her shell and be just as much of a shithead as Thomas and as angry as James, if not worse than the two combined. Her outfit was rather simple, a dark scarlet hoodie with her number on it, and dark grey or black leggings. She liked it that way, she looked good and it was flexible and comfy. When she first arrived with Thomas, she felt something click with James, despite him being an utter jackass to her. After begrudgingly showing her around and having to shunt trucks, the duo became good acquaintances. It wasn’t until after James’ accident that the two became best friends, being asshats together and generally being a happy sight. He’s the one Maddy is generally seen with if she’s not working on her own. Soon enough, though, something started brewing within her heart.

“Ah crumbs, he’s in a mood.” ~T

“James is always in a mood.” ~M

“Fuck both of you.” ~J

   C) Edward

      Ah, Old Iron. He was there when Thomas and Maddy first arrived to the island. Like most that laid eyes on her, his main worry is that she was itty bitty. Usually calm and collected unless something goes majorly wrong, Edward was quick to unknowingly swoop her under his wings. When Thomas started poking fun at him for being fatherly, Edward nearly keeled over. An engine can’t father a human, can they? He guessed they could as soon after Maddy just gave a shrug and accepted the Number 2 as her father, after being given away by her own. It didn’t take long for Edward to actually father her, asking how her day was, sometimes folding her laundry, comforting her, scolding Maddy James, y’know, dad stuff. He earned the name ‘Dadward’ from her, and his heart melts every time she says it.

         1) As a human, Edward looks like a kindly old man and a youngin’ at the same time. He stands just a bit shorter than James at 6′ or 183 centimeters. With short, almost midnight-blue hair, Edward is the perfect gentleman. He even has a small pair of gold glasses that set snuggly on his nose. His eyes are a lovely shade of steel blue, something he gets flustered about when Maddy compliments him. His outfit consists of a white dress shirt with a dark blue tie, a blazer matching his paintwork with his number on his right arm and dark grey dress pants. He’s not usually in his human form, but when he is, Maddy unusually asks for a lot of hugs..

“Will you two leave her be?” -E

“But look how red her face is!” P&T

“FUCK THE LOT OF YOU-” ~M

   D) James

      Ah, James. One half of what his friends call “The Red Disasters”. He’s still his normal, vain ass self. He has a soft side, everyone knows it but virtually no one can get to it. Except Maddy, who can get to it quite easily. Though, when they first met, all he did was make fun of her. Well, they made fun of each other, but still. They had the complete opposite of favorite jobs, they still do and always will. James loves pulling coaches, she hates it. She loves trucks, he despises it and always tries to weasel his way out. It usually doesn’t work. He’s earned many nicknames from her: Jamsey, Jimbo, Buzzy, Buzzy Butt, the list grows. Two of them came from the mistake about telling her the story about the bees, the other.he’s not too sure. What he is sure of, though, is that Jimbo has spread than to more than just her and he hates it. It fuels her though, so he’s gotta be careful. Originally, though, James didn’t know what to think of her. After the accident, his boiler felt all fluttery and he pushed it down to just being ill. He had to learn the hard way about what romantic love was. He knew how to flirt, it got people to love him more! But what that flirting did, though, he was completely foreign to.

         1) At 6′2′’ or 188 centimeters, James stands as the third tallest among the main eight. When he still had his black livery, James’ human form basically had him looking like what I can simply describe as a butler, though he had a vest and a red tie instead of all black. After, though, he had quite the change. His long, black hair now had dyed red tips and his right ear had a cute little heart piercing. Hair covers most of his left eye, which is what Maddy lovingly described as, “You managed to make the color of red rust beautiful.”. He thinks his hair looks cool only according to Maddy. He usually wears a long-sleeve, dark red button-up shirt with three dark grey stripes on both arms and grey pads on his shoulders. His number was sewn onto his left breast. Maddy pokes fun at him for looking like a band geek, but she nonetheless likes it. His outfit is simply finished off with grey pants. Sometimes, though, he’s seen wearing a solid red hoodie that Maddy got him. He won’t admit that it’s his favorite piece of clothing.

“Honey Bee, you’re acting irrational-” ~J

“DON’T MAKE ME GET THE BEES-” ~M

“NOT THE BEES-” ~J

   E) Gordon

      There isn’t much to say about Gordon. He’s his usual, grumpy self. We all know deep down he’s a good engine, though. Gordon’s...rather indifferent about Maddy. He doesn’t dislike her, but he doesn’t see her appeal either. Nonetheless, she’s an awesome part of the team. She does the most important job: listening to James bitch so they don’t have to. Of course, though, like the rest of the team, he’ll defend her if need be. Gordon has a heart, he just doesn’t like to show it.

         1) Gordon’s the tallest, at 6′8′’ or 203 centimeters. Everything about his human form is perfect. His hair is just a tad darker than Edward’s and a teeny bit shorter. He keeps it slicked back most of the time, but it’s hilarious when he has bed head. Maddy got a picture once and sent it to James just in case he forced her to delete it. Just like most of her friends, Gordon’s eyes were her favorite, they were a blue similar to his hair, but a few shades lighter. Maddy remembers a time she complimented them and Gordon puffed away all red in the face. His outfit consists of a three piece suit, in his paintwork color of course, a white shirt and a red tie. His number is on his right breast.

“The Express isn’t that important.” ~M

“Why I’ll tell you-” ~G

“Is her intent just to piss him off?” ~E

“Yes. It’s both of ours.” ~J

   E) Henry

      Maddy’s favorite engine besides James. Thomas is insulted that he isn’t even considered one of her favorites. Henry gushed over her the first time she came. He must protect the small. Love the small. If James suddenly didn’t exist, Henry would be her go-to. She adored puffing through the forest with him, looking at all the trees and wildlife. Maddy would take pictures of flowers she’d find while strolling through and Henry would just ooze over them. Once she showed him a photo of a squirrel holding a wild flower under an oak tree whose leaves were just started to turn different colors, and the big engine cried with joy. He requested she print the picture out so his driver could carry it for him, and she did. It was his absolute favorite.

         1) 6′6″ or 198 centimeters, what a height to be. At second tallest, Henry is the definition of a gentle giant. His resting face looks nervous, but he’s usually not nervous at all. His hair is a forest green, not too short, not too long. Actually, Maddy’s favorite part of him is his chicken-wing bangs. Of course she loves his eyes, which are a lovely jade green, but the bangs take the cake, Whenever they hang out, she likes to play with them when he talks about plants. He finds it comforting. His outfit is literally just a more modest and fancier workman’s outfit, but matching his livery, with his number on his right breast. It made sense, since he was usually one to do heavy work.

“You don’t like the rain either?” ~H

“The last time I went out in the rain I derailed Percy.” ~M

“Why were you even out in the rain!? You’d catch a cold!” ~E

“Fat Man said I was the only one available and told me to suck it up. I did catch a cold. James tried making me soup, remember?” ~M

“What do you mean tried..?” ~H

“He forgot to cook the chicken beforehand. I got salmonella.” ~M

“So that’s why you were bedridden and wouldn’t talk to him for a week after..” ~H

   G) Percy

      Ah, little shit number two. Thomas’ partner in crime. When he first met Maddy when he arrived, he teased her relentlessly for being short-tempered and short in general. After giving him the silent treatment though, Percy was a bit nicer. He and Thomas still tease her plenty enough, but they tease about things she usually won’t kick their asses for. He likes Maddy now. Plain and simple.

         1) Second shortest, 5′5″ or 165 centimeters. He holds those two inches with pride. Percy uses them against Maddy very frequently. Maddy won’t hurt him though. She physically can’t. His little baby face, those big ol’ light green eyes, that short light green hair, his cute little outfit [which consists of a shamrock colored shirt, black suspenders held up by gold buttons, and dark green shorts]. If he was any smaller Maddy would die. James sometimes gets jealous by how much she gushes over Percy, but doesn’t exactly blame her. Percy’s adorable and he damn well knows it.

“Ha, you’re short.” ~P

“You’re short too.” ~M

“I’m taller than you.” ~P

“Won’t be for long when I take your kneecaps.” ~M

   H) Emily

   Ah, Emily. The first girl engine she met. They made damn good friends, too. They gossiped whenever they had a chance. Maddy usually talked about shit James has said, and Emily just gossips about anything and everything. They were will to throw hands for each other, with Emily more willing to for Maddy. Maddy would throw hands just as an excuse to do it. Emily still loves her, though.

         1) Emily currently stands at 5′8″ or 173 centimeters. She isn’t as girly as she looks, either. Her hair is short, with half of it buzzed off. Maddy would describe her as someone punk-ish. Of course Emily’s personality doesn’t reflect that at all, she just chose to look like it. She’s the only other engine besides James to have piercings, usually with two black on on the top of her ears and hoop earrings to pay honor to her engine build. Emily was a little more casual than her friends, usually seen wearing a simple green dress matching her livery. Her eyes were a very dark grey, almost black, with flecks of brass scattered in there. Maddy told her once that she was the prettiest girl she’s every seen and Emily nearly crashed.

“James being a bitch again?” ~Em

“What do you mean again?” ~M

“I can hear you.” ~J

“I know.” ~M

   I) Others

      Other characters consist of secondary characters within the story who do not play as big a role. There are a few who teeter on the edge between primary and secondary characters, such as Duck, Donald, Douglas, Diesel, Diesel 10, and Lady. They play an important role, but not enough so to have their own descriptions. Diesel’s..y’know, Diesel, the twins think of Maddy as their long-lost sister, Duck..well, they like to poke fun at James together when he’s not droning about the Great Western Railway, Diesel 10′s goal is to get her to say something about Lady, and Lady...no one’s really sure yet. Then, as of right now for true secondary characters there is Oliver, Toad, BoCo, Bill, Ben, Mavis, and Salty. There’s more to come, but that’s what I got right now.

III) Personal Headcanons

-The engines can eat and taste in both forms. They don’t know where it goes when they’re engines and don’t feel like finding out.

-James learned to cook for Maddy when she couldn’t for herself.

-For the longest time, James was the only engine with his own phone.

   -He learned hip language and Maddy started regretting every choice in her life.

-Maddy comes to Salty for him to tell her stories when she’s bored.

-Rain is Maddy’s one weakness since she has no way of covering herself.

-She, along with her friends as humans, run with skates that reflect their wheel configuration. The wheels retract when not in use. [I’m thinking about switching to roller blades, we’ll see.]

-Maddy intentionally starts beef with the Scottish Twins because she thinks the fighting is hilarious.

-Thomas will occasionally beg Maddy for a cotton candy sucker. Specifically cotton candy. She doesn’t know why either.

-Thomas initiated a prank war with her once. He lost.

-Gordon once bet her that she couldn’t pull his heavy goods. His driver was out 30 bucks because of him.

-Maddy tortures Duck with duck puns.

-Maddy still trick-or-treats for free candy.

-Emily once convinced Maddy to derail James for the fun of it. She was subsequently chased around the island.

-James is the ultimate flirt and he uses that against Maddy, who flusters very easily. 

-Percy loves Teddy Grahams.

-Edward likes loves to tell others about his daughter. Maddy does not. He is becoming too dad-like.

-The Scottish Twins know damn well that Maddy simps for their accents and they intentionally use it against her if they can.

-Maddy knows about Diesel’s ducklings. It’s the only reason she decides to befriend him.

-James utterly hates Diesel for many many reasons.

-Like many others headcanon, Thomas can’t cook. He fucked up a cup of ramen once and Maddy still refuses to let him live it down.

-Edward refuses to let Thomas and Percy swear. They hate it. James and Maddy know this. They swear more because they can’t.

-James and Maddy are at a tie for worst potty mouths. The twins don’t count. That’s not fair.

-Oliver thought Maddy was an engine for like a month before he met her.

-Maddy dislikes the Mainland. Not the engines there. They’re cool. 

-If Maddy isn’t around, James sleeps in her bed with her hoodie.

-Henry worries for Maddy all the time. More and Edward and James combined. He just doesn’t show it.

-Gordon says he has no opinion on Maddy, but he really does like her.

-No one knows where Maddy’s really from. She won’t tell them either. Not even James or the Fat Man really know.

-Want more? Just ask!

IV) Canon Couples within TTTE: MBtE

~James/Maddy

~Edward/Henry

~Emily/Thomas

~D10/Lady (In the past)

~~We’ll see about others as the story progresses~~

V) Notes

- Lady is the reason the engines have sentience. She is not the reason for their human forms. That will be explained later.

-Maddy is much more resilient than an average human, which is why most accidents don’t just straight up kill her.

-As stated before, Maddy can now live for hundreds of years if she’s careful enough. She won’t age as fast as a normal human, so who knows how long she’ll be baby-faced. Not that she cares, more opportunity to trick-or-treat.

-The engines can get frisky, but no babies. Don’t even think about it.

-Maddy will eventually give in and buy beds for all her friends to give them an opportunity to sleep like she does.

VI) Link

Silly me, I forgot to give a link to my story! Shame on me for making you search, that won’t happen again, here you go!

Sodor’s New Worker

________________________________________________________________

And that’s really it. If you have any questions, please please please please please ask!

UPDATED: August 3, 2021

#sodor's new worker #TTTE: MBtE #ttte james #ttte maddy #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte emily #ttte percy #ttte henry #ttte gordon #ttte oc

[satoruvt]

the color of you - blue (6)

ITS HERE. I HOPE I DID WELL. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT AKDSHKFJSDH

pairing → keigo takami x reader

word count → 3213

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him... right?

song inspo → hell of flying by jeremy zucker, cassette by demian, a lil of bugbear by chloe moriondo

this chapter → y/n comes to conclusions, keigo’s a dork, tension, a fight, crying.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

So it’s been… strange.

Or rather, it hasn’t been strange at all, which makes everything even more strange, somehow. You feel like things should be so much different, but they’re not. You reached a wild conclusion that threw you for a fucking loop, made you sit in your kitchen at Angel Cakes and contemplate what the hell you were going to do about anything that would ever occur to you from here on out. Sometimes you almost ask Keigo how things haven’t changed at all, since you’ve decided that you like him, but then you have to stop yourself from saying anything because, oh, right, you haven’t told him.

You don’t plan to, either.

It’d just mess everything up, wouldn’t it? To say “hey, I know we’ve been fake dating for like two and a half months now but I’m kind of liking the idea of really dating you”? Kinda fucked. Not to mention, from a professional stance, what if it ruins your guys’ chemistry when you’re being watched by the entire world? If someone finds out that the whole thing is fake - regardless of your feelings - it means Keigo’s public image and your entire life at the bakery. Everything would go to shit, and after it’s burned down, you doubt you’d even have Keigo.

So you’re not telling him. You’re in love with one of your closest friends, who you are also fake dating, who is also the Number Two hero in the country, and you’re not telling him how you feel. Yes. Okay.

You’ve had a lot of time to reflect about your own feelings, because after Keigo left to fight that villain the other day (and after you managed to get off the ground and clean up) you were sure it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. Yeah, he looked pretty, and there was something dreamy and domestic about laughing and throwing baking ingredients at each other, so maybe your heart just got confused. 

But you’d called him to ask if he was okay (instead of a usual text) and he’d picked up the phone and laughed and your heart had not done that before. Not with Keigo, not on the phone, and not like that. And usually his pet names amused you, but he’d called you “sweetheart” over the phone and his voice was tired and drawled a bit. It made you dizzy. You said goodbye pretty soon after that.

You’re barely walking up the stairs of your apartment complex when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Butterflies (and moths, a few) erupt in your stomach when you read the name, and then immediately die when you read the text itself.

keigo baby 🐦

Do u want to have a playdate with me 👉👈 I could come over if ur mom says its okay

Why him? You think to yourself, swallowing the vomit in your throat and fishing your keys out of your bag to unlock your door. You text back when you get inside, throwing your belongings on the nearest surface.

y/n

don’t ever talk to me again

keigo baby 🐦

Is that a yes??

y/n

….fine, but if u ever use those emojis again i’ll break up with u. legally 

keigo baby 🐦

baby no!!!!

You throw your phone down onto your sofa before flopping over it, letting yourself sink into the cushions for a moment. It takes no more than ten minutes for Keigo to be at your door, letting himself in without so much as a knock. You know that it’s technically your doing, since you didn’t lock it when you came in, but you still whine at him about it, and he mocks you jokingly.

It seems he either senses your tiredness or didn’t have anything in mind to do anyways, because all Keigo does is lift your legs up from where they’re sprawled out on the couch and sits down in their place, letting them flop back onto his lap. He adjusts so his wings aren’t smashed against the back of the couch (or, at least, not as much). You move your feet off of his lap.

You’ve come to really appreciate days like this, where you simply bask in his company and he does yours. As much as Keigo is nonchalant about his lifestyle, you know it’s exhausting for him to do what he does every single day, and then to have to talk to people (fans, reporters, anyone). He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know. And, well, if you can give him a moment of comfort -

God, no, stop thinking like that. You can’t afford to think like that right now. 

The two of you talk, occasionally sharing posts from social media and laughing at dumb little cat videos (there was one that was five whole minutes of one of the guys from that k-pop band being compared to cat pictures and it’s the most wholesome thing you’ve ever seen to date). Before you know it, it’s been a few hours, the sun just fully covered by the distant mountains. The sky cools down in purple and blue hues, dressing up for the night to come. You and Keigo are laughing over old vines, and in your mind you think that it really couldn’t be that bad for this to be every night instead of just… some nights.

At the end of the compilation Keigo groans out a lingering laugh, stretching his legs out as best he can without hitting your coffee table. You stand up, feeling the need to move around as well, and walk towards your kitchen for a drink. Keigo stands after you but doesn’t move, letting his wings flex and stretch from being contained for so long. You get a glass of water, lift it to your lips just as Keigo lifts his arms above his head and holy fucking shit, his stomach -

Tummy! the tiny voice in your head squeals, but the hornier one screams at the top of its lungs ABS and honestly you don’t know what the fuck to do and neither does your body so you choke on your water. Keigo startles, eyes wide, and with a mumbled “holy shit” makes his way over to you as you cough and sputter over your sink.

It takes a minute, but you eventually come back, eyes watery and face red for multiple reasons. You take a deep breath and Keigo rubs your back, eyeing you, which only makes the entire situation worse.

“Jesus, are you okay?” He asks, and you nod, but you can’t look at him.

“Yeah, uh,” you clear your throat, blinking a few times. “Just… went down the wrong pipe, I guess.”

Fuck.

-

You barely recover from seeing a sliver of Keigo’s stomach, and the memory haunts you for days. You attempt at willing it out of your brain, try to tell yourself that you just didn’t see it at all, but your heart is strong as hell and refuses to let your head forget it. You think about it multiple times a day. You think about it for at least twenty minutes each time. You think about it until Keigo texts you a little less than a week after it happened.

Your phone buzzes on the counter in the kitchen and you finish up your bread dough, putting it into a bowl gently and setting a timer to let it prove. Once your hands are effectively clean, you open the message, letting yourself scoff.

keigo baby 🐦

Just finished a photoshoot, could really use a donut right now :/

Attached to his message is a picture of himself, and honestly, he looks really fucking good. It takes pretty much everything in you not to collapse and die. God.

You look up a picture of a donut on Google - they sold out today, and you are not going to make one just for Keigo - and send it to him. For my hardworking fake boyfriend, you send with it. Mostly to emphasize fake for both of you. Yourself especially.

keigo baby 🐦

Fake??? :( sweetheart, u hurt me

Your mind stops working when you read his text, so you leave him on read.

-

The next time you see Keigo in person is when you’re contemplating whether or not you should keep… hanging out with him.

The contract only has a little over a month left, so it’s not as if it’d be that hard to deal with… besides, it’d be easier on the both of you when this whole thing inevitably ends. You don’t see yourself being able to be around him without thinking about kissing him over and over. Not now, at least. You hope it changes. You hope it’s a weird phase or something. 

Keigo texts you and invites - demands - you over (his excuse is that with the hero conference coming up soon many of the smaller heroes are taking care of villains and giving him more time off) and honestly, if you’re really gonna try to stop talking to him as much, this could be your goodbye or whatever. Also, he mentioned wine, and you need to get drunk. Like, “give me an entire bottle so I can cope with the idea of falling for you because I know that you don’t feel the same and I am simply trying to ride out the rest of this “relationship” so I don’t ruin our dynamic and chemistry while we’re being watched by literally the entire world” drunk.

Yeah. It’s been a rough few weeks.

Every time you go to Keigo’s apartment it reminds you of just how broke you are, but you suppose the apartment itself is fitting. It’s definitely modern, but it holds the clutter of Keigo’s personality - blankets strung everywhere, LED lights, a poster of Endeavor hung up in his closet (but you’re sworn to secrecy about that, you pinky promised). When you knock on his door he doesn’t answer, and it’s a good minute and a half before you get a text that says “it’s open, come in” and you sigh, because again, why him?

He’s sitting on the couch, and when he sees you he smiles like he didn’t just refuse to open the door because he’s too lazy. “Well, if it isn’t the love of my life,” he says, and for a second you can fool yourself into believing it’s genuine.

“I’m just here for the wine, dude,” you tease, and he mocks offense at your words.

“Ouch. Mid-relationship rejection.”

Nonetheless, Keigo gets the wine himself (selective little shit) and two glasses, pours each of you one. It isn’t long before you’ve had at least three glasses but no more than five, and you’re maybe, perhaps, a little drunk. 

Keigo is, too, so you’re not really alone, but he’s talking about something Endeavor did like he’s the greatest hero in the world. It makes you smile, just a bit, but then again, you’re usually sentimental when you’re drunk, so maybe it’s just that. Or maybe it’s because you like him. It doesn’t really matter now.

“Hey, Kei,” you murmur when he’s done with his story. He hums, takes another sip out of his glass. “What happens when this is over?”

You look at your feet, scrunching up your toes inside your socks so you have something to look at. Then your eyes move up more, to the top of his coffee table, and then finally they land on him, and he looks gorgeous. He always does.

Keigo blinks once, twice, then shrugs, goes back to his wine. “Dunno. I hope we’re still friends, though,” he says.

“Friends? You want to be friends?”

You’re drunk. You should go to sleep, or go home, or something. Talking is not something you should be doing.

“What?” Keigo asks, but more like he didn’t hear you rather than he didn’t understand, so you take your chance, even through your hazed mind.

“Nothing,” you say, swirling the wine in your glass. “Forget about it.”

And it seems like he does, because when you wake up on his couch the next morning with a killer headache and he stumbles out of his room with a groan he doesn’t mention anything about it even when he talks about everything else.

-

Keigo texts you a few days later, a picture of him posing with another wine bottle. 

keigo baby 🐦

round 2??

The picture is cute. He’s smiling, all lips and curves and blonde hair and tan skin. He’s dressed in sweats, you can see, but he still looks like a model. It makes your heart sink and fly at the same time.

y/n

can’t, sorry. have to stay late at angel cakes. i’ll see u at the hero conference tho

He doesn’t text you for a while after that.

-

The conference comes quick, and before you know it you’re in another hotel suite, getting makeup done. It doesn’t take as much dressing up - your dress is shorter this time, less formal, your makeup less extravagant. You don’t feel nervous, not like last time, but you don’t necessarily feel comfortable either. Your makeup artist is different this time.

It takes a considerably less amount of time for you to get ready, and you stare at yourself in the mirror before it’s time to go. Your dress is beautiful - blue, royal, deep and light at the same time and gorgeous. Simple, too, nothing too out there. When you step out of the hotel room you notice Keigo’s still in his hero costume, but you suppose he has to be. You don’t match with him like you did last time.

There’s no banter, no teasing, no compliments. The ride to the venue is quiet. Keigo sends you a look at one point - a “tell me what’s wrong” look - but you only shrug, offer him the best smile you can, which apparently isn’t convincing, because he frowns when he sees it. You wish he wouldn’t frown so much.

The conference is short, but maybe you’re just distracted. An usher walks you to your seat at a VIP table and it seems like you sit down and then it ends. You clap for Keigo, smile like you’re endlessly proud of him - and you are, even if it doesn’t show that well tonight - and watch him make a scene becuase that’s what he does. He winks at you at one point during the night, while he’s talking into the microphone, and you know it’s for the publicity. The conference ends significantly earlier than the awards show, however, so you don’t have to stay in the suite for the night. 

The ride back to the suite seems shorter than the ride to the venue and it takes you maybe twenty minutes to wipe the makeup off of your face and take off your dress. You walk across the hall to Keigo’s room, knock on the door. He answers.

“Okay, I’m gonna head out, I’m feelin’ kinda tired,” you tell him with a small smile. “Just wanted to say bye.”

“Let me walk you home,” he says instead, and your brain yells at you no!

“No, it’s fine, Kei -”

“Please. I want to.”

He’s never said that before, and a part of you knows you wouldn’t be able to say no to him even if he hadn’t, so you nod and let him follow you out of the hotel and to your apartment. The walk is silent and it makes you feel uneasy but you can’t really do anything about it, not with what you’re trying to do, so nothing happens until you reach your apartment.

You know where this is going, even if you don’t want to, so you take a deep breath, hold the door open for him so Keigo can come inside. He looks at you weirdly for a moment but then enters your apartment, standing in the junction of your entryway and living room like he’s uncomfortable. You let him, then walk to the kitchen for something to drink.

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

Keigo scoffs. “Shouldn’t that be my line?”

You know he noticed - it’s impossible not to, but you didn’t think… you didn’t think he’d call you out on it. Your pause is evident, but you pretend like it didn’t happen at all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

“Yeah? Wanna rethink that, sweetheart?”

The almost-malice in his tone when he says your usual pet name startles you, and when you look up at Keigo it seems like it startled him, too, doe-eyed and looking at you. You shake your head, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room behind him to throw your things down, try to pass the message to him that this is not good. “You’re wrong,” you say.

“I’m not - I’m not wrong, Y/N,” he says, turning around to look at you. “Every time I see you it seems like you’re pushing me away, like you’re not here, and I don’t know if I did something, but I -” he pauses, runs a gloved hand over his face and you want to tell him that it’s not his fault, but that would lead to you telling him everything, and you can’t. “I miss you.”

His voice is broken. When you speak again, your voice sounds like his, but somehow worse. Smaller. “You’re wrong,” you insist. You know he’s not.

“I’m not,” he pushes back. “I’d like to think that in the months we’ve been -”

He stops himself, and you take your opportunity. “That we’ve been what? Dating? We’re not dating, Keigo, we both signed a fucking contract to benefit your public image! This is nothing!”

You have no idea what you’re doing. It’s not nothing. It will never be nothing.

“You think this is nothing?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you know for sure we’ll still be friends when this is over.”

He can’t, and he won’t. You’re trying really hard not to cry, but it hurts to fight with him like this, and it hurts that you think you’re falling in love with him, and it hurts that if you tell him it’ll ruin everything and it hurts, so a few tears slip out anyways.

“Y/N,” Keigo says, and his voice is so soft. You want to melt into him, but you shy away when he reaches for you. “Please just tell me -”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you choke out. “I can’t - I’m - I’m calling it. I’ll send my lawyer if you need anything but I just…”

You can’t even look at him. Has he always been so far away?

“Get out, Keigo.”

It sounds so cold, so unfamiliar, coming from your mouth and you half expect another person to have said it entirely. This isn’t you, this isn’t how you and Keigo act, this isn’t… this isn’t it. There’s a pause, like he’s waiting for something, but then you hear him sigh - practically feel him deflate, and then he walks out of your apartment, door shutting quietly behind him.

It’s so quiet when he’s gone.

You take a deep breath, walk back to your bedroom, curl into yourself on the bed, and cry in the blue light of the sky left behind by the sun.

#GUYS I LOVE ANGST I HOPE I HYPED THIS UP ENOUGH #AHHHHHHH #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagine #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha hawks x reader #hawks bnha x reader #keigo takami imagine #x reader #reader insert #imagine #tcoy #the color of you