#dont feel hesitant to confide in us because we are here with you through thick and thin

[wkemeup]

Start Again

summary: A chemical spill, uncontrollable desires rushed to the surface, an unbridled need, and the consequences in the aftermath  pairing: steve x reader word count: 5k warnings: SMUT (18+), sex pollen (dub/con), a very slight dom!steve, angst, absolute filth ok dont shame me a/n: first sex pollen fic, first steve smut. felt right. and hot. 

“Rogers! Watch your six, dammit!” you shouted, hair whipping into your face as you lunged at a stray opponent aiming a gun directly at the back of Steve’s head. Roundhouse kick to his hand and the weapon flung halfway across the room; another blow to the man’s temple and then, he collapsed to the ground in a heavy thud.

“That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?” Steve chuckled from the doorway, turning back with a smirk over his shoulder as he nudged his way into the vault with the edge of his shield. All confidence and charisma and still, his ears were a little pink, his eyes flickering down at the floor by your feet when he held your gaze a moment too long. A hesitancy in his teasing. A sincerity nestled in pale blue eyes.

You chewed on the edge of your lip, unbothered by the coppery taste left behind by the hit of a Hydra agent unconscious at your feet, and you side stepped your way into the vault. Steve stood with his arm extended, gesturing you to lead the way, smile creeping up the left side of his mouth before he followed behind.

This was how things were between the two of you. Flirty banter. Quiet moments. Poking at the tension in the air with the blunt edge of a knife. Careful, but still pressing. Lingering. Waiting in agony until the moment it snapped.

“What is this place?” you asked, covering your nose with the crook of your elbow as a lingering burning sensation filled the air.

The walls were lined with chemicals placed neatly in organized vials, within enclosed glass tubes, and refrigerated syringes. Beautiful bright colors to dull, dreary shades, big and small, carefully sealed, with hazmat suits hanging from the rack at the corner of the room. At the center sat a single metal table with restraints hanging down off the sides.

You stepped closer to it, carefully examining the cuffs made of leather where it cracked along the outside from years of use. You shuddered to think of the men they laid strapped on this cold unforgiving surface, injecting god knows what into their veins.

“This is sick,” you exhaled, dropping the restraint and watching as it swung over the edge of the table.

“It’s Hydra,” Steve replied tensely. “Whatever they have in here, it can’t be good. Let’s just get what we came for and get the hell out.”

You nodded, walking closer to the shelves in search of the small vial Dr. Cho described. Blue in color, almost translucent, a liquid of only a few milliliters in total. If you were lucky it would be labeled NR-829. You didn’t know what it was for, but you weren’t one to ask questions. Steve went along with the mission without hesitation and you followed his lead. You trusted Steve enough for that.

It took a while as you filtered through dozens of unknown chemicals until you found the vial. Tucked in the back of the shelf, hidden behind a series of test tubes and a particularly large glass bottle with a large ‘X’ scribbled in black marker over the cap, the light blue serum sat in wait. You grinned, gently pulling the tube from its stand and holding it up for Steve to see.

“This is why I keep you around,” Steve teased, a sigh of relief etched into his tone.

“Thought you needed me to watch your six, huh?”

“That, too.”

Steve hung his head with a smile so wide on his face it made your stomach twist into knots. Hands planted firmly on his hips, stealing careful glances up at you from under long, thick lashes, you couldn’t help but admire the tenderness he carried. Even under pounds of muscle, a super soldier’s strength running through his veins, and the weight of the world on his shoulders, he still managed to carry an innocence, a lightness, and he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

“We should go,” Steve said after a moment and you nodded quickly, hoping he didn’t notice your staring.

You were just about to place the vial into the small pouch at the edge of your hip when a movement at the edge of the vault froze you dead in your tracks.

A flicker of metallic.

The click of the safety unlatching.

The grunt of a man in vengeance.

Laying on the floor, mouth covered in blood as it drenched down from his broken nose, the man you’d rendered unconscious now aimed a gun in your direction; a sickening grin pealed up along his cheeks to reveal yellowed teeth soaked in red.

Steve’s arm jutted out in front of you, yanking your body quickly out of the line of fire, but the man only smirked. He didn’t attempt to follow in his aim. Instead, he narrowed in on something beyond your position. Something on the shelves.

The gunshot rang out, echoing painfully within the small confines of the vault enough for a violent ringing to pierce in your ears, and still, you heard the glass shatter.

The air filled with the sudden sweet smell of candied apples and caramel; a scent specific to the night Steve dragged you out to Coney Island in efforts to relive his old memories, when you’d spent nearly half the night sitting on the docks prying sticky caramel from your fingers and laughing until your stomach hurt. The way he’d looked at you that night, like maybe all these feelings stirring deep in your chest might not be unrequited, how he’d smiled just enough until it pressed dimples to his cheeks.

No ordinary chemical could produce a smell like that. Not something so specific. Nothing but—

“Oh God.”

Steve was at the doors to the vault, desperately trying to pry his shield between them as the chemical spill must have set off emergency protocols and sealed you inside, but it was no use. He let out a visceral groan as he used all of his force, and still nothing.

“Steve,” you crocked, already feeling the sweat dripping at the nape of your neck. Your eyes glanced back at the emerald green liquid fizzling on the cement floor. The smell was intoxicating, burning almost to the point where it physically ached, and you closed your hands tight into fists.

“What is that?” Steve grunted, finally turning away from the doors. He brushed at his nose, confused, as tried to find the source. “It... it smells like... coffee and—and cinnamon sugar.”

The bakery down the block from the tower. Where you’d taken Steve in the early hours of the mornings when he’d find himself standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, shame lingering in his features and a redness in his eyes. It was a safe haven. An escape. The smell of a pleasant memory.

You’d heard that this chemical had the ability to manifest individually to those it effected, but it still took you by surprise. Drawn on the desires of its host, different to each in its unrelenting path. There was no time to wonder what it meant, why it smelled like the bakery around the corner and the nights you spent with Steve when the nightmares woke him in a blinding panic. There was no time because your eyes kept flickering down the lines of Steve’s body, tracing him hungrily, like a woman starved.

You choked back a moan, squeezing your thighs together as a sudden all-encompassing emptiness tore through you.

“Steve, listen to me,” you tried again, voice a little dry as you stretched your neck away from the collar of your suit, tearing your stare from his body as you focused on the wall in front of you. You zipped down the edge of your suit to your sternum and it only provided an ounce of relief. You were suffocating under it, burning, and you swore if you didn’t get it off soon you might collapse.

Steve didn’t seem to hear you though as he walked towards the exposed chemical on the floor, examining it. “Why expose us to this chemical instead of just killing us? What’s the point? What the hell is this stuff anyway?”

Your legs were crossed at the ankles, thighs pressing tightly together in an effort to relieve some of the ache at your core, but it did nothing. Not when you knew what you needed. Not when he was standing right there.

“Steve, please,” you whined, close to tears, hands gripping tight at the edges of the metal table.

Steve whipped around at the sound of your voice, panicked by the urgency, the desperation in it. His shoulder tensed, eyes darting wide at the sight of you.

The chemical had taken its effect quickly. Your hairline was drenched in sweat, heart pounding so painful in your chest you were certain he could hear it across the room, but what surprised him most was the slight tang in the air, a sweet kind of smell that was only and entirely yours; one he only dared allow himself to notice once before, under the cover of night when he’d walked past your bedroom in and heard the soft whimpers beyond the door.

Your legs were shaking under you, ready to collapse, and Steve darted forward. His hand gripped at your waist, trying to hold you steady.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he cooed sweetly, though there was a panic in his voice as he turned to look back at the sealed exit. He exhaled a heavy breath, pulling you in closer. “I’ve got you. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

The pressure of his hands was unlike anything you’d ever felt. It was exhilarating, like the touch of lightening to your skin and still, feather soft. It was a jolt of desperation that only worsened the pulsing at your core, the agonizing emptiness you felt between your legs.

You whimpered, shaking terribly in his arms, and then, his hands moved slowly up along your body to cup at your cheeks. He pushed away the damp hairs on your face, sky blue eyes searching yours, trying to understand what was affecting you like this, so concerned, so full of worry, but it was too much.

Your skin was too sensitive; every touch heightened beyond what you’d ever experienced and each rub of his thumb over your cheek bone, each pressured dip of his fingers against your neck, was almost unbearable. Your cunt clenched around air, waiting eagerly to be filled and used and — fuck — you were going to die if you didn’t get that damn suit off now.

“Y/n?” Steve called, though it sounded far away, like a lingering semblance of an echo long carried through a tunnel.

Unable to take it, you tore Steve’s hands away from you, stumbling back until you hit the table with a painful corner to your spine. You whined, shaking, whimpering, and as Steve tried to take another step closer to you, you held up a desperate hand.

“It’s not effecting you as quickly because—because of the serum,” you gasped, trying to find your breath as a hand slipped under your collar, pushing down at the zipper on your suit in search of relief, “but it will. It will, Steve, and we—we have to—God, we’ll die if we don’t, but—”

“What are you talking about? What’s happening to you?” Steve demanded, trying to step closer to you, to reach out in comfort, but you flinched away. You still had some semblance of control, even if your dignity was in pieces. You wouldn't dare let him touch you again until he understood what this was, until he could have some kind of choice.

“The chemical,” you shuddered, pointing to the shattered vial on the floor, “it’s the extract of the pollen Tony warned us about in Brussels.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. Brussels was almost three years ago but he remembered it well. They’d been tasked with infiltrating a Hydra base attempting to create an army of enhanced super soldiers by pairing the gifted with their knock off experiments. Creating offspring artificially wasn’t an option, it seemed, and well, Hydra needed to convince their participants to engage.

Realization hit Steve like a truck and he stumbled back, eyes wide. “N-No, it’s can’t be. That stuff should have been destroyed when we blew up the base...”

“Should have been,” you repeated, nodding slowly as you shrugged your shoulder out of the suit. The cool air touched your skin and it was instant relief. Teeth clenched, lump in your throat, you looked at Steve. “We don’t have a lot of time. I—I have to get this off. I feel like I’m burning alive...”

“Okay, okay,” Steve nodded, rushing towards you to help. You choked back a whine as his fingers touched over bare skin, slipping under your suit as he helped peel away the skin tight fabric until it dropped down over your thighs and was left in a pile on the floor.

Left only in your sports bra and panties, Steve started to evert his eyes, even as his breathing started to pick up in pace. It was affecting him slower than it did you, but it was still in his veins, it was still coming for him.

“Steve,” you gasped, your hands fumbling with the band of your bra, trying to pull it over your head. Your nipples were pebbled hard, the touch of the fabric agonizing against the buds. Your thighs squeezed tight together and you could feel how soaked through the thin cotton between your legs had become. You could smell it yourself, so you knew Steve could, too.

“Steve, please. I—I need you. It hurts so much…”

Steve swallowed, eyes gazing up at your body as you stripped clean of the remaining material. He tried desperately to hold your eye, but as your hand slipped down between your legs in search of some relief, he followed.

Your fingers dipped in between the folds, swirling in the wetness that dripped down your thighs, and even as you circled in rushed movements, sunk two fingers deep inside you, it did nothing to relieve the ache. It couldn’t be relieved on its own, not without help.

In a surge of pollen-induced confidence, you carefully reached out for Steve’s hand, letting your fingers hook around his as hooded eyes gazed up to a startling pale blue and the bite of teeth over pink, swollen lips. Slowly, you guided Steve’s hand closer to your core and when you were met with no resistance, replaced your fingers with his own, pushing his touch to the heat between your legs.

He shuddered as the wetness dripped over him, fingers moving of their own accord and circling sweetly at your clit. It was like fire through your veins, rendering you outside of yourself, and still, you needed more.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, running a free hand through your hair, but you could only whine in response, resting your forehead to his shoulder.

Hands curled into the thick fabric of his suit, dipping into the muscle in his arms as you tried to focus on the pressure on your clit, how his fingers swirled and circled and pressed and flicked at the sensitive bundle of nerves, but that emptiness lingered. It screamed at you, tore through your body and consumed you, begging to be filled, to be abused and used.

“More,” you begged, too far lost to the effects of the pollen to feel shame for the tremors in your voice or the neediness with which you rolled your hips to his fingers. “Please, Steve. I—I can’t. I need—”

“Okay, I’ve got you,” he said quickly, a softness in his tone as he helped ease you up onto the metal table. It was cold against your exposed skin, though it supplied no relief to the fever lighting like flames within your veins.

You called his name again, a desperate cry, and Steve gently ran his hands down your curves, slipping over your hips and thighs and gently returning to where you needed him. It was like he was trying to hold onto some kind of semblance of romance or affection amongst the intensity of the pollen igniting dangerous levels of dopamine and oxytocin in your brain; like maybe he could fool himself into believing it was real.

“It’s okay. I’m here, sweetheart. Just try to relax for me,” he whispered, sinking two fingers into you, and then a third. It was relief unlike anything else. The slight sting of the stretch, the rub of his knuckles by your entrance, the curving of his fingers deep inside your walls, pressing up against the spot that made your back arch up from the table.

“Fuck, Steve,” you gasped, eyes closed, overwhelmed in the sensations, in the pumping of his fingers and his thumb circling at your clit, the high that started to take over completely and render you in a mess on the table, open and exposed. “Yes! Ah—don't—don't stop!”

Even through your haze, you felt the slight touch of his lips on your forehead. Something so tender, so soft, in stark contrast to the heat of the pollen’s chemical amplifying your senses.

“That’s it,” Steve urged, his breath warm on your skin as your walls began to clench around him. Tighter. Tighter. He pumped his fingers faster, the sounds filling the room enough to draw heat to your face if it wasn’t for the heightened bliss produced by the pollen.

You rolled your hips against his hand, meeting him at his knuckles, begging for more.

More, more, more—

“Let go, doll,” Steve whispered against your ear, breath hot to your skin, “come for me.”

Closer and closer and rising to the very edge of the peak and— nothing.

You whined, a sob breaking through you as the crescendo faded out just before the highest note. Your body collapsed, sinking into hardened metal, exhausted, desperate, aching.

“What is it? What happened?” Steve questioned, panicked.

“It’s not enough,” you gasped. “I need you.”

Steve froze, slowly pulling his fingers from between your legs to find them dripping in your wetness. He closed his hand. “Y/n, I—”

“I need you to fuck me, Steve.”

He shook his head, backing up. “You don’t-- You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do. Please, Steve,” you begged, your own fingers circling back at the head of your clit, swirling in the drench of your juices at your core and still, it wasn’t enough. It won’t ever be enough. You needed thick veins and a pulsing heartbeat, rushed thrusts, hands digging to your hips, and the labored pants of a man above you.

You needed him.

“You don’t want this,” Steve argued, determined, though you could see the pollen starting to take its effect. His pupils were blown wide, sweat dripping at the nape of his neck though he tried to brush it away. His legs were trembling.

“The pollen is only enhancing desires that already exist,” you urged, breathy and in gasps as your fingers worked tiredly at your clit and still—nothing. In your haze, you didn’t notice how Steve’s eyes widened at your confession. He stared at you for just a moment longer before he shook the thought from his mind, unwilling to let himself go there.

“Steve, I’m begging you. I gonna—I'm gonna die.”

“No, you’re not. I won’t let that happen.”

He could feel the pollen starting to take it’s hold in his own body and the longer he looked at you, exposed and ready for him, dripping, the sweet smell of your cunt filtering in the air, the closer he came to the losing edge of control.

The serum kept it at bay for a while, but he could feel his cock aching painfully hard under layers of Kevlar. The fabric rubbed against it, creating an almost burning sensation, and he understood why you were so desperate to rid yourself of your clothes.

Jesus – it was a miracle he kept it together as long as he did. He could still feel the squeeze of your pussy on his fingers; the heat, the wetness, the softest most vulnerable parts of you. His hand was sticky in your slick as he clenched his fist, nails digging painfully to his palms.

“Steve, it’s starting to affect you, too.”

He shook his head. “I can deal with it. I’ll handle it on my own.”

“You can’t, Steve. It won’t be enough.”

“It has to be!” he snapped, harsher than he meant to, but the pollen was pushing him towards an edge he wasn’t certain he’d ever come back from. “I can’t-- I won’t let that fucking chemical turn me into a monster!”

Steve groaned, raking his fingers through sweat damped hair and ridding himself of the shield and weapons strapped to his suit. He was panting long before he started shouldering the vault doors again, desperate to lodge his way through.

You closed your eyes, tears slipping past your temples as you laid on the metal table. Shaking, dripping at your core, aching. Your fingers doing nothing to relieve the painful, empty feeling left in Steve’s wake. Chills swept up your spine, like a fever, and you stared up at the ceiling, watching as the tiles swayed over one another, melting and twisting into a blur of grey cement as you listened to Steve’s labored breaths, the grunts in anguish, as he tried to break out of the vault.

But suddenly, it came to a stop.

A heavy exhale. A pained groan. And then—

“How certain are you?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, vision blurring, dizzy, but you could still see how desperately Steve was trying to hold himself back. His arousal was thick and prominent against his thigh, a wet spot growing at the head, as he rubbed himself through the outside of his pants.

“Y/n,” he asked again, tenser, strained. “How certain are you that it’s only enhancing existing desires?”

“Certain,” you choked out. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, Steve. Since Coney Island.”

Steve gritted his teeth, and you could tell there was a part of him that lingered, wanting to know more, wanting to say something meaningful in return, but the pollen had taken a hold of him and he wasn’t the one in control anymore.

“I can’t hold back.”

You shook your head, heart racing in anticipation. “You don’t have to.”

“You don’t understand, Y/n,” Steve groaned, sliding his hand under his belt in search of some relief, unabashedly stroking himself in full view as his pants circled around his ankles. “I can feel this shit taking over and— I won’t be able to— I can’t hold myself back. Do you understand?”

He took a step closer to you, pulling his jacket off as well until he was naked before you. He paused at the edge of the table, hesitant for a moment, before slowly, he set his hands on the tops of your thighs. You moaned at the sensation, arching up for him, though he didn’t touch you where you needed him most. Instead, he let his hands travel along your legs, sliding all the way down to your ankles before he yanked hard enough to pull your body right to the edge.

You met him with a gasp, hands landing on his chest as you looked up to darkened eyes.

“It’ll be rough,” he gritted out.

You were panting, heart stammering. “I can take rough.”

“I might hurt you.”

“So hurt me, Captain,” you begged, voice low, hands snaking up around his neck.

“Say it again. Tell me you want this. I need to hear it,” he demanded, darker than you’d ever heard him, and still, there was a soft kind of pale blue in his eyes; a lingering piece of that tender, hesitant man you knew who kept his distance, who flirted and teased with shades of pink in his ears. He practically growled as his fingers dug deeper into your thighs.

“I want this,” you said firmly, your left hand raking through his hair, your right slipping down his stomach until you reached his cock. Circling your grip around his shaft, you slowly began to pump him and spread the precum down the throbbing vein underneath. His breath caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed as he sucked in a harsh breath.

“I want you, Steve,” you whispered against his neck, your lips pressing a kiss to his pulse point before you licked a stripe along his jawline, up to his mouth, where you paused. You caught his eyes for a moment, laced in lust and thick in desire, and you mewled against his lips, “fuck me, Steve. Use me. I’m yours.”

It was hard to tell what was the pollen and what was inherently you, but when it was Steve standing in front of you, his erection sliding at your folds, his eyes gazing hungrily into yours, you couldn’t find it in you to care where the words came from. They were real desires, a real longing, a real desperation you carried deep inside you, hidden under lock and key, and the vial shattered in the back of the room only released them from their cage.

Suddenly, Steve yanked you from the table, spun you around, and held you firmly against him, his breath like fire against your neck. Your back was only kept pressed up against his chest for a moment before he pushed you flush onto the table. The cold of the metal ice against your skin, your cheek pressed onto the surface as he kept you still with a hand on the mid of your back. Your toes barely touched the ground, but Steve had a good hold on your hips with his free hand.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, his hand on your back nestling along your spine, pressing like the keys of a piano. You shuddered under him, trying to squeeze your thighs together but he kept them propped open. “Be a good girl for me, won’t you, baby? Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” Your hands gripped onto the edges of the table, your toes lifting off the ground.

“Gonna let me take what I want from you? Gonna let me use your body how I want? Fuck your tight little cunt? My sweet girl...”

“Yes,” you whimpered, shaking, as the painful aching between your legs grew stronger. “All for you. Just you. Steve... please...”

Steve’s hand gripped to your hips, painful enough to leave bruises but your whole body was stripped to the bare edges, sensitive unlike you’d ever been in your life, and the divots he dug were sweet relief. You ached for more. Whatever he would give you.

You felt the tip of Steve’s cock edging at your entrance and you let out a desperate whine. You tried arched up for him as much as the position would allow, even with Steve’s hand keeping your upper body flattened on the table as he came up to you from behind.

He slid into you with ease, bottoming out in one harsh thrust that nearly jolted the entire table. You gasped, holding onto the surface, reveling in the ache of the stretch, how thick he was pressing you open, stretching you.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Steve grunted, adjusting his grip on your hip. He pulled out, just to the tip, slowly, agonizingly, before he slid back in with a shuddered breath. “So fuckin’ good, baby. Your cunt’s fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Shit.”

You’d never heard Steve curse like that. It was foreign in his voice, but God, it was like pure sin. Pieces of him he kept hidden, desires he wouldn’t dare allow to the surface broken free by the pollen littering the air and seeping deep into his veins. A man without boundaries or confinements. A man unleashed.

“Fuck, yes, Steve,” you moaned, gripping so tightly at the edges of the table, you wondered if you might be strong enough to crack it. “God, Steve, don’t stop! Just like that—Just like—ah, fuck—”

He was relentless. Rushed. Desperate. Quick and harsh thrusts of his hips snapping against your ass, his cock throbbing and dragging against clenched walls, spurring on that twist deep in your stomach, bringing you closer and closer to release, to relief.

The noises he made only urged you on, filling the room with cries and screams, his name and yours, uncontained, unfiltered. Through the gasps in his breath, through your name exhaled low in his voice, he muttered praises and curses, his grip tightening, your skin burning against the metal surface with every drag of your body. It was a rush, a high, every thrust, every bruise he pressed into your skin, every inch closer to the peak that left you screaming his name over and over again until finally—

The ground fell out from under you, mountains crashing down, and you cried out through the free fall; impossibly sensitive, withering and desperate to hold on as he chased his own release, prolonging the longest, most intense orgasm you’d ever had, one that left you in near tears, until he came into you, releasing against your walls.

There was a moment of relief, of a comforting stillness. The labored pants of your breaths filling the room and the sticky sweet smell of sex overpowering the long faded scent of the pollen. The dizziness cleared from your mind, the high of the orgasm pulling you fully back to your senses, and you were shocked to find how cold the room had become.

And then the silence started to carry an unease within it.

Steve’s hand released its grip on your hips, on your back, unpeeling away from skin he’d colored under his touch and you tried not to wince at the sting of it because you knew he was watching you. Then, he pulled his softened cock from inside you, slipping out slowly and leaving behind a kind of emptiness that pierced straight through to your chest.

With the desperation gone, the heat of the pollen absent from your veins and a chill in your spine, you turned to find Steve, hoping for something as tender and sweet as the man you knew to offset the bruising on your body and the new kind of ache between your legs; pains you eagerly agreed to and even in your clearest thoughts knew with certainty you had wanted. Still, there was a need for more, something of the man you know Steve to be.

“Steve?”

He was scrambling to put his suit back on. Hands fumbling with his pants until he covered himself, then, quickly began to search around the room. Shaking hands yanked open drawers, throwing around papers and supplies until they covered the floor.

“Steve, hold on a moment...”

“I don’t-- I don’t have anything for you to--” he exhaled harshly, rubbing at his eyes and you realized what he meant. The sticky residue between your legs, his release and yours. He swallowed thickly, and it didn’t slip your notice that he couldn’t meet your eye. “Just-- just give me a second. I’ll-- uh—I'll find something.”

“Stevie, it’s okay,” you tried to tell him, but he couldn’t hear you.

You bent down and grabbed your suit from the floor, stepping into it as his cum had dried along your thighs. You could wash it away later. There was no concern for pregnancy. SHIELD provided all agents with standard birth control. Steve should know that and he should know that Sam would still be waiting on them in the jet, concerned that the coms hadn’t been working for the time you and Steve were trapped down there.

You crossed the room, coming up behind Steve and placing a hand on his bare shoulder. He flinched the moment your fingertips grazed his flushed skin and you pulled away, curling your hand to your chest. He turned to face you, but his eyes were focused on the floor by your feet. Even clothed, standing in front of him as the woman who had loved and adored him for years under the guise of friendship, he couldn’t bear to meet your eye.

A crack nestled in your chest, straight through your heart. God, you just wanted to hold him.

“Steve...”

The vault doors sprang open with a thunderous echo, a clear mist expelling from the ceiling.

A sudden darkness came over Steve’s features, the soft outline of his face turning hard as a growl brewed in his chest. He grabbed the gun from his waistband and bounded toward the exit. Without a moment of hesitation, he fired a single shot at the Hydra agent who had broken the vial of pollen in favor of killing either of you; still laying on the floor, barely even enough time to react to defend himself.

You gasped as a bullet lodged through the man’s head and he slumped over. Deep red pooling around him.

Steve stomped back into the vault, slipped the top of suit back over his head, ran his fingers through his hair to tame the mess. With his back turned to you, he paused.

“You have the vial we came for?” His voice was cold, detached, incredibly unlike the man you knew.

“Y-yes,” you replied, feeling for the small test tube securely placed in the container at your hip. You zipped up your suit to cover the exposed hills of your breasts; even with Steve’s back to you, it left you feeling exposed.

His back straightened, a short nod to himself, and he stepped over the body of the Hydra agent. Boots imprinting into the mess of blood, leaving a trail in their wake as he quickly made his way back to the jet.

You waited until the echoes of his steps disappeared down the hallway and you were left with a deeply unsettling silence. There, you allowed yourself to cry.

--

part two

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers one shot

[stiltonbasket]

(Is this where you submit prompts? I really dont know ^^💧) Prompt for the renouncement au: I don’t know why i love when gossip is involved, so maybe something about people’s opinions on wangxian’s marriage and how it slowly changes to a better perspective to the point that anyone who doubts their feelings for each other gets immediately shut down. And you could add some juniors shenanigans to make wangxian have that good of a reputation because i miss them </3. Thank you for your time and effort! (And sorry if this is not the place for the prompts, i will submit it again if you say so ^^’ )

(author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Lan Siyong considers himself one of the more moderate elders among the Lan sect. 

He has been close friends with Lan Qiren from childhood, and he saw Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji grow up into the fine, upstanding men they are today. When the two of them were boys, he even had fond thoughts of attending their weddings, and watching them take on the most sacred of duties with glad, willing hearts. 

Learning that Xichen would never wed had been a disappointment, but Lan Siyong rallied again when Lan Qiren confided the reason why the boy rejected marriage—chastity in an upstanding cultivator was to be lauded, especially in an age where Jin Guangshan had once demanded such high respect, and there could still be children born to Lan Huan if he decided to cultivate them. And of course, Wangji was there, and Lan Siyong knew from the first that he would be the kind of youth to fall in love deeply, at first sight, and remain passionately devoted to his mingding zhiren until he drew his last breath. 

But then Lan Siyong had Wangji’s own sword turned upon him at the Burial Mounds, because the one that his many-times distant nephew loved so dearly was none other than Wei Wuxian. 

“Qiren,” he says hoarsely, when the lotus-scented wedding invitations arrive from Lotus Pier. “You cannot let this happen—an unrighteous cultivator, one who spurned orthodoxy without remorse and led Wangji down such a dangerous path—”

“What has been done has been done,” Lan Qiren replies. “We have sent the bridewealth, and the marriage was contracted between Xichen and Jiang-zongzhu. All their terms have been agreed upon, and the date set.”

And then, after a brief pause: “He makes Wangji happy.”

Lan Siyong nearly cries. He does not attend the wedding, for fear of shaming Wangji with the open despair that appears on his face whenever he sees Wei Wuxian, and sends the newlywed couple the most expensive gift he can afford in an effort to do something useful. 

Wei Wuxian is the one who writes him a letter in thanks. Lan Siyong almost has a qi deviation.

__

“You know,” one of the other elders mutters after the second wedding ceremony: namely, the ceremony held in the Cloud Recesses, since Jiang-zongzhu demanded that his brother should be married at Lotus Pier first. “Wei Wuxian refused to have a blessing for children spoken at the an chuang ceremony.”

“Gossip is forbidden,” Lan Haiyang says tranquilly. He stopped caring about practically everything after his son’s wife gave birth to the whirlwind that calls himself Lan Jingyi, so Lan Siyong has long since given up relying on him to fix any kind of sect turmoil. “And they already have two children. I have not seen a finer Lan disciple than Lan Sizhui in all my days.”

Lan Siyong is forced to concede this last. Wangji has two good children, even if the Yiling Patriarch is perhaps the most unsuitable person alive to raise them with him, and a couple’s choice to expand their family is up to them, and no others.

“He should at least have let the blessing be spoken, though.”

Lan Siyong does not disagree with this. Traditions are traditions, and surely even Wei Wuxian should know to respect them once in a while. 

__

“It’s worse than I thought,” Lan Siyong murmurs, on a summer afternoon about six weeks after Wangji’s wedding. He passed Haiyang’s grandson and his friends on his way to the refectory that morning, and heard them discussing how heartbroken Wangji had looked upon hearing that Wei Wuxian did not return his love. “I ought not to have eavesdropped, but—poor Wangji!”

“Poor Wangji what?” Lan Haiyang asks, as if their little Lan Zhan being in trouble was all in another day’s work to him. “What’s happened to him now?”

“Wei Wuxian disavows Wangji’s love at every opportunity,” he replies dismally, going over to the refreshment table to drown his woes in chestnut cake and tea. “I fear for him, Haiyang. To love for so long, and to wed his beloved, and have children with him, and still…”

Lan Haiyang snorts into his tea. 

“What do you mean by that?” demands Lan Siyong, more than a little offended. “Wangji is in distress! We must do something!”

His friend does not reply. Honestly, it’s as if no one remembers what Wangji suffered for Wei Wuxian’s sake. Lan Siyong even tries raising the issue with Lan Qiren, and then with Xichen, but all he gets in return for his pains is a tray of fresh-baked red bean buns from the hanshi and another cryptic comment about Wangji’s supposed happiness from Qiren. 

Yet again, he is forced to leave his worries for another day, and try his best to follow rule three thousand, one hundred and sixty-two: that the affairs of a married couple should not be discussed by outsiders, even if they happen to be close, concerned family. 

Lan Siyong thinks his hair might be turning white by now.

__

And then, in early winter, Lan Siyong is roused from his bed one night and told that Wei Wuxian has gone missing. He joins the search party that Wangji leads, and follows him to a dark house in the woods with the Ghost General leading the way—and then he watches as Wangji kills at least a dozen men in an effort to reach his husband, whom they find unconscious in a cave beneath the house with corpse bites dotting every visible inch of his skin.

Lan Siyong nearly weeps as he hears Wangji’s desperate whispers to his beloved on the way back to Gusu, and watches him hold Wei Wuxian close while refusing help from anyone who offers.

Let him live, Lan Siyong prays silently, when Wei Wuxian is carried into the infirmary with Wangji at his side. Please, for Wangji’s sake, let Wei-gongzi live. 

__

“Qiren?”

A few days after the news about Wangji’s soon-to-be-born daughter is made public (public being a subjective word, since ceremony preceding the birth of a third child is unnecessary, and Wei Wuxian had said that he would rather wait until the baby arrives to make a formal announcement) Lan Siyong discovers Lan Qiren in one of the common rooms, sitting at a writing desk with his head buried in his hands. It’s a strange thing to see his friend do, since Lan Qiren has not looked so distressed since those three dark years after Wangji’s sentencing, and he hardly even looks up when Lan Siyong lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“It was just four weeks ago that Wei Ying was kidnapped and confined in that dungeon,” Lan Qiren says blankly, after he registers Lan Siyong’s presence and turns around to greet him. “If he—oh, heavens—”

Two weeks later, Lan Siyong requests a week’s leave from teaching to attend the trials of Wei Wuxian’s kidnappers, who are being held under Nie-zongzhu’s jurisdiction in the Unclean Realm. He has always believed himself to be a gentle man, but when the only sentences dealt are life imprisonment and execution, Lan Siyong’s heart is strangely devoid of any pity. All he can think of are the corpse bites he saw on Wei Wuxian’s face and throat, and a baby girl who nearly perished with her father before she had the chance to take her first breath. 

On his way back to the Cloud Recesses, he purchases a bolt of thick cream-colored silk with fine sky-blue embroidery and brings it to Wangji as a gift after the next monthly sect meeting.

“Xinhua-jun will need wider-cut robes before long,” he says, when his nephew gives him a curious glance before bowing low in thanks. “Zewu-jun has told us all that he and the child are in good health, and that the little one is growing well. All of our good wishes go with them both, and we pray that you should not hesitate to rely on us in the months to come if it should be needed.”

Wangji’s eyes go soft. “Thank you, San-shushu. It is much appreciated.”

__

Lan Siyong gets his first chance to hold Wei Shuilan at the baby’s full-moon ceremony, while Wangji and Wei Wuxian are running back and forth through the banquet hall to greet the arriving guests, and seize the first trusted elder they can reach to watch little A-Lan for a moment. At first, Lan Siyong merely stands by her cradle to keep an eye on her, but then she seems to sense her parents’ absence, so he picks her up and jogs her up and down to keep her from crying; and then he begins to hum softly beside her tiny ear, soothing the baby back to sleep by the time Wei Wuxian returns. 

“My good Lan-bao,” Wei Wuxian croons, cradling the child to his chest before rearranging her crumpled swaddling clothes. “Such a good baobei, to take your nap even with so much going on! Just like your A-Die, thank goodness, and not like your A-Niang.”

Curious, Lan Siyong clears his throat. “What do you mean, Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “I never sleep properly at night, but Lan Zhan always falls asleep at hai shi, even if he isn’t in bed yet,” he says, with his voice so full of love for the newborn child in his arms and the husband who gave her to him that Lan Siyong feels strangely humbled. “A-Lan’s just like him that way.”

At that moment, Wangji appears with a plate of cut fruit and lotus cake before presenting it to Wei Wuxian. “Here, Wei Ying. Give A-Lan to me, and eat your lunch.”

“Lunch?” Wei Wuxian asks, confused. “But we’re having the banquet in just an hour.”

“You have been having your luncheon at this time for the past six months,” Wangji says stubbornly. “I will not have you going hungry even for a minute, xingan.”

“Lan Zhan, sweetheart…”

Thank heaven they found each other again, Lan Siyong thinks, slipping away to find Lan Qiren with a rising lump of tears in his throat. I do not think anyone else could have ever made Wangji so happy.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #renouncement verse #wangxian arranged marriage au #my fic #god this was long #BUT THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD PROMPT ;_; #<3

[fluffnfiction]

Stability: Chapter 1

Maulx gn reader (They/them) Maul and reader work together to raise and protect a force sensitive child. Running from both the Empire and inquisitors is the least of their worries. ( I apologize to those who have read this, I had a better story Idea, so I decided to redo this and move the scene you read to a later chapter)

The Devaronian child could not have been more than 5 or 6 years of age. Yet maul could feel his energy pushing violently against his own, a feat that few well trained force users could do. He watched from the corner of his eye, as the child glared at him from the other side of the market, holding what he assumed to be his parents leg protectively. Another wave of crackling energy flared against his, a warning. He couldn’t help but hive a chuckle, as he pretended to look over yet another merchant's wares, listening to the pair. “That man is weird” The child whispered to who he had previously assumed to be the boys mother, but upon closer inspection seemed to be an unrelated human. They shushed the child softly “It’s alright,” They said “He’s looking at us” The boy growled baring his teeth. “Do NOT bite him” They said firmly putting a hand over their mouth before paying for some scraps of meat and looking at him plainly from over their shoulder assuring eye contact before moving again. Taking it as an invitation, he followed them. The thick crowd of people turned into desolate, nearly abandoned streets and streets into long abandoned dirt paths, until they stood at the edge of a vast forest. Maul didn’t look back, but he was certain if he had, the town would have been completely hidden from view. He grew suspicious that they were leading him into some sort of trap, but he was confident he could overcome whatever plans that they had for him. The stranger and the boy stopped just under the shade of the tree, finally taking down their hood and resting in the grass. The boy however stood, His posture stiff, as if ready for Maul to make a move. “Runt tells me that you are a force user.” The stranger finally spoke up “You dont look like those people trying to kill us though.” They said “So why are you following us?” “Bold of you to take me somewhere so secluded.” He said. “That's because we know the forest” The boy spat “Runt” Their guardian scolded. “Why are we talking to him? He’s not going to help! He’s just gonna tattle on us and get us into trouble!” Runt argued, crossing his arms defensively. “The child has impressive instincts.” Maul observed “So young and yet he already has so much potential.” He said, the feeling of pride and fondness swelling in his chest “ However there's only so much that he can accomplish on his own.I promise I bear you no ill-intent, I wish to be his teacher.” The boy, Runt, scoffed “I dont need a teacher.Dont want you here either!” “Runt” They scolded him again, eyes wide in disapproving, to which the child immediately fell silent, a sour look still on his face. “You are young, you understand so little.The galaxy is a dangerous place, for force users. I know those who hunt you” He hesitated “You cannot hope to protect what is yours without this power, heavy though that burden is.Believe me child, I am the only chance you have in surviving.” Runt furrowed his brow and turned to run into the trees. His guardian sighed, closing their eyes “Forgive him.. Trust does not come easy for him” “Nor should it” Maul bit out harshly. Their eyes scanned him, their guarded gaze turned soft, as they contemplated his offer.” You.. really aren’t one of them are you? Those demons” He gave them a wicked smile, their choice of words amusing him “My dear, “ he chuckled darkly, his voice coming out raspy and strained “ I am their worst nightmare.” They had led him deeper into the large dense forest, it’s canopy, nearly blocking out all light from the sun which still hung high in the sky. Slivers of light beaming through its leafy branches that shook peacefully in the wind. Maul continued to scan the trail for any disturbances, while reaching out with the force to sense the child. A small blip of anxiety and frustration to the east caught his attention, before it hastily masked itself. He scowled slightly at the defiance, still he was impressed. The boy had nearly mastered a skill that had taken him years to hone, though he supposed that the boy's current situation is what drove him. The fear of death and will

to live could be powerful motivators, he knew this first hand. “You don’t seem too concerned that your ward has disappeared.” He observed curiously, turning his attention back to the hooded figure in front of him. They gave a small amused snort. “Runt knows this forest better than I do,” They explained “ I cannot force him to come home, especially when he’s upset or angry “ They explained simply. He gave a grunt “Yes, He is powerful for his age.” He agreed, his eyes lighting up slightly in intrigue. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully “impressive” He said again.

The pair fell back into a comfortable silence, as they approached a small clearing, the space just big enough to set up a single tent and a small fire pit made of stone. Their amenities were kept down to the bare essentials, Maul thought, noticing only a single large backpack stocked with clothes and provisions, the straps likely for their shelter and bed rolls. The dirt only recently disturbed, a sign that they had been moving around. Maul watched as they gathered up some wood and dry crunchy moss for the fire which they lit with some flint and durasteel, an absolutely archaic peace of technology that took entirely too long. He clicked his tongue, moving them aside forcefully. “Move” He sighed in exasperation as he took out his saber and lit it for only a second.The fire spread quickly thanks to the mossy tender, and soon the air filled with the smokey scent of wood. “Thank you,” They said quietly, their eyebrows raised in surprise. “Just get the kettle.” He responded impatiently, taking a seat by the fire slightly embarrassed to be using his weapon for such a menial task. Without another word, the kettle was filled with water and the two adults sat quietly together. For the first time, Maul could sense their unease and nervousness growing. The meekness gritting on his nerves slightly, knowing a question seemed to be lingering in their mind. “You have a question.” He wasn’t asking. They looked at him slightly surprised , before their eyes fell once again to the ground. “I’m just curious about who you are.” They admitted “What brought you here,But at the same time, I have a feeling you don’t want me to know that, and honestly I don't care, so long that runt is safe. Still-” “Maul” He said flatly “You may call me Maul” “Maul” They nodded accepting the bit of information graciously, before the kettle started to whistle. They poured hot water into two durasteel cups, steeping a tea bag into it and tying the string around the handle, before handing him a cup “I’ll.. I’ll try to just trust you.” A horrible decision, He thought “Very well” The sun had not yet touched down on the horizon, yet the forest was already shrouded in the soft red glow of sunset and fire. The shadows around the trees darkened considerably, making it nearly impossible to see anything that might be lurking in the shadows. Mauls neck pricked as he felt eyes watching them.His fingers twitching, the instinct to fight rising, until his glowing eyes locked with reflective black ones and he was made aware of a familiar blip of angry energy. It was the boy. He smiled again, finding himself caught off guard and impressed yet again by the child. “Hm… It seems, just as you said, my little apprentice has wandered back.” He hummed before calling out “Clever child, but I can see you.” He could see the boys eyes narrowing, but the child remained hidden. “Runt, come help me. I’m about to make dinner.” They called taking out the thick scraps or meat that they bought at the market and a frying pan. He could see the boy hesitate before coming out from his hiding spot, giving maul a wide berth. His knees digging into the dirt as he sat next to his guardian who smiled “Such a good boy” they said fondly touching his face gently before handing him a pan, which he took eagerly. He didn’t need the force to feel the child's loyalty and love for his guardian. A potential problem for his training, but at the moment, he needed to gain his apprentices confidence and trust. Patience, he told himself, as he watched the pair.When the time came he would remove them.

#Maul x reader #Darth Maul x reader #Maul x gn reader #Star Wars #Star Wars: Canon x reader

[yelenasdog]

heavy is the head that wears the crown (mob!arvin russell x fem! pastor’s daughter! reader)

genre: angst+fluff

summary: arvin had always heard the saying “heavy is the head that wears the crown” but never truly understood what it meant. not until now

words: 4.06k

warnings: since this is based off of a tdatt, family death, mentions of death, mentions of mobs, kissing, marriage, murder, smoking, suicide, cancer and i think that’s it. it’s also kinda melodramatic, and i haven’t watched tdalt in a while so a lot could be plot inaccurate also idk anything abt the mob or mafia so like dont k*ll me thx i just like joe pesci

a/n: first, i owe the amazing concept of mob!arv to @kelieah ! so go follow her for more mob!arvin goodness!! basically i’m obsessed w 90s mob movies and watched goodfellas and casino and few too many times lately and oops here we r! i tried to write this from the narrator in tdatt’s view, so if u wanna read it like that then cool! btw the pic w the dress is just an idea of the dress reader is wearing not what she looks like! ok enjoy i’ll stop rambling

·。·。·。

“So, Arvin. I was told you paint houses? That true?”

Arvin hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it again. He wasn’t a painter, no, he killed people. For a price, that is.

But rather than saying no, the jab in his side from his uncle told him to answer otherwise.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

The Pastor nodded, taking a drag from his cigar, imported all the way from Cuba. He then placed what was left of the long stick in the crystal tray in front of him, the tapping of it on the reflective surface seeming almost deafening.

“Can all your family be traced down to one place, son?”

Arvin gulped, avoiding his eyes, darting his own around the heavily decorated room. Another jab to his side. He winced, meeting the older man’s eyes. He may not know much about the life he was about to enter, but he knew enough about what that meant.

“Yes, sir. They can be, minus my father and my mother. They’re gone.”

Not even a full beat of silence later, the Pastor spoke.

“How’d he die?”

Arvin was taken aback, though he knew that question was coming. His jaw clenched, as did his fist by his side. If the Pastor noticed, he didn’t speak on it, barely lifting his eyes from the document resting on his desk.

“Suicide, after the war.”

“And your mother?”

He took his lip in between his teeth, feeling the skin break, the tears well in his eyes for reasons he would excuse as the pain he was inflicting.

“Cancer. It happened when I was young, I didn’t barely even know her.”

The pastor looked up, slimming his eyes. This time he did notice the glimmering droplets, welling up in his chestnut colored eyes, threatening to fall. He appreciated the boy’s attempt to keep his emotions in check in front of his would be superior, leaning back into his chair.

“It’s alright, boy. You’re allowed to cry, it was your mother.” His southern accent was thick like molasses, his words drawing out. Arvin still felt that it wasn’t acceptable, though, so he only sniffled and directed his chin further up towards the ceiling. He stood there for a while, nerves running through his every cell. It was electric, like white lighting making its way through his veins at a painstakingly slow pace.

“Right then.”

The pastor stood, walking towards Arvin and his uncle. His expensive loafers tapped along the cold floor as he went, the sound pestering to the ears of Arvin, taunting him. He reached a soft hand out, which the boy standing opposite to him gladly took. He observed how the Pastor’s hand was without scars, calluses. Anything that would point to evidence of him being a killer, doing his own dirty work (or “the Lord’s work” as he liked to put it).

“Welcome to the family, son.”

And as Arvin smiled widely and shook his hand with an iron grip, he began to wonder what his new life would entail doing the “Lord’s work”.

He thought he had a pretty good idea, but boy, was he wrong.

“So, how’d it go?”

It was later, and Arvin was sitting with one his most favorite people, Y/n. The pair were resting in an open field, the wildflowers around her just almost competing with the beauty she held. He bashfully looked to the dirt under his shoes, noticing how only inches away, her hands picked at the damp grass.

“Went well, I think. He told me I’m ‘part of the family now’.”

She smiled at him, and in that moment with her hair so widely astray, and wearing that pale blue dress he adored so much, Arvin’s heart felt a certain emotion he hadn’t necessarily felt for someone at this multitude before. He had felt it for Lenora, his mother, his aunt and uncle. But it was different, then. Because now as he sat with her by his side, his love for her was realized at its full potential.

She began to ramble on, congratulating him on becoming a member of her father’s so called “family”, telling him how proud she was. He couldn’t keep focused on the sweet words that were falling from her lips like honey, though, as he was too caught up in his own head, his own thoughts.

“Arv?” She asked, voice laced with slight concern, but mostly with curiosity.

“Sorry, darlin’. Just thinking.”

She blushes, it’s the first time he’s called her that before. She tries to carry on conversation, though with her heart beating through that pretty dress of her’s, it was a bit difficult.

“About what?” She questioned, doing her very best not to pry too far, to be invasive in the very reserved Arvin’s mind.

Truthfully? He was promising himself that he would marry her one day, make her his wife. But telling her that he was only thinking “‘bout the future” would have to do. I mean, truthfully, he really was!

So he answered her, and she was content with said answer, abandoning the subject and returning to many praises for Arv. The standards for the “family” were high, and though she believed in him fiercely, she knew that at his core Arvin was the sweetest soul she’d ever met, and she was skeptical he could put that aside to do whatever the job would require.

“Arvin?”

He looked up, and she nearly lost her breath. It was Arvin’s sunkissed skin, tanned from working under the hot sun, the beams beating down on him. Or perhaps it was the freckles that lightly dusted his crooked nose, like a constellation from the cosmos above. Maybe even it was the mop that sat on his head, the color all the same of those sweet brown eyes of his. Whatever it was, she felt it could only mean one thing.

Y/n Y/l/n was confident she loved Arvin Russell.

“Hmm?” He asked, tilting his head like a confused canine. Adorably endearing, she thought.

And though she had much to say, she was afraid that if he were the dog in question, then the puppy had got her tongue, so to say.

“Y/n/n?” The boy said, nudging her with his elbow, making a melodious giggle erupt from her chest. “What, cat got your tongue?” Arvin teased, and she only shook her head and smiled, as he had no idea how correct he really was.

“You could say that.”

The two shared laughs over the exchange, and at some point (neither of them are quite sure when, how, or who leaned in first), their lips connected in a short and sweet kiss. It seemed that it only lasted for a moment, and as soon as they pulled apart, Arvin and Y/n both were dying for more.

But they resisted, Arvin reaching out a cautious hand to entangle with hers. She bashfully grinned, as did he (though he did his best to resist).

“Y/n, I really like you.” He had said, his thumb running small circles upon her skin. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you like me too.”  He laughed, nervous notes to the sound.

“And well, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfr-”

And with a light groan, Y/n had wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing both of them to the ground. She connected their lips, the kiss so oddly blunt, an attack on his lips that he had no plan of fighting off. His hands found her hair, and her’s moved to the sides of his face, holding him so tightly, as if she was afraid he would let go.

“Yes.” She pulled away panting, her lips swollen, his flushed. “Yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend, Arvin.”

They smiled as bright as the setting sun above them, and Arvin pulled her close as she buried her face in the warm crook of his neck. They stayed like that ‘till the sun went down and the stars came out of hiding, the cool summer breeze blowing around them. They both still felt it, then, the love they had only just began to realize was there. And they would continue to feel it for years to come.

Like when Arvin would get back from a job, sometimes with blood splattered on his crisp white shirts, his dirty work getting, well, dirty. She would slowly peel it from his body, taking care to make sure he wasn’t hurt. She would do her best to wash the crimson stains from the fabric, sighing if it was seeming to be of no use. Arvin would come up behind her where she was working at the sink, wrapping his strong arms around her middle and resting his head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Arv,” she would start, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face, “damn thing won’t budge.” Arvin would just chuckle, reaching up a gentle hand, gentle only for her, to tuck the hair behind her ear, quietly speaking.

“Well I think it looks pretty good, darlin’. It’ll do just fine.” He would spin her around to face him, and pepper small kisses on her skin, smiling at her reaction. And if he was hurt, she would take care to use a warm washcloth, wiping the scarlet splatters from his creamy complexion. 

The juxtaposition of the shades was always bewildering for her, oddly beautiful in a way. She never said so, though, only muttering praises of how proud she was, how strong he is, things like that. And Arvin would watch her, honey colored eyes following her as she moved about to fix him right up. No pain would have any real effect on him, not when she was there to reassure him, make him whole again.

As Arvin moved up in their small town world, in the “family”, he remained just as kind, just as gentle. Nothing really changed, no, only the lines on his forehead deepening and the crows feet becoming darker when he smiled; And Y/n’s role, as well. She stopped cleaning him up, stopped trying to rid his shirts of bloody reminders of his living. Arvin seemed to no longer be “painting walls’, but rather making sure jobs were done, everyone was staying in their places.

And things led to another, and all of a sudden Y/n and Arvin were moving into a big house, bigger than Arvin had ever even been in before. Deals and arrangements were made, settlements too.

One regular Tuesday, Arvin came home from what Y/n could tell had been a long, long, day. He was exhausted, but had this unmistakable look of excitement and joy plastered to his face. He had come in bursting through the door, not even taking off his hat or overcoat before making his way over to Y/n and kissing her silly.

“Well hello to you, too, Arv.” She laughed, amusement and curiosity both equally swirling around in her brain, wondering what could possibly have inspired this behavior.

“Things are happening, sweetheart, good, good things.” He took her hands in his, briefly shaking them before planting a kiss to them and walking away, a big smile on his face. And truth be told, not that she would admit it, it scared the Hell outta her. She wasn’t quite sure as to why, but something was itching at her brain, warning her that whatever was brewing wasn't a good thing. But nevertheless, she maintained her grin, painted lips never faltering.

The next day, when the “good things” were supposed to be happening, Arvin was seriously wondering why on God’s green Earth he had expected this to be easy.

“Come again, son?”

Arvin swallowed, shifting on his feet. He mentally scolded himself for ending up in this position again, standing in front of the Pastor’s desk, all kinds of confused. But it had to be this way, it was for the best, he knew. The sun shone through the window above the desk in front of him, right into his eyes, nearly blinding him. The Pastor didn’t really care, though.

“I’m asking for your blessing to ask Y/n’s hand in marriage, sir.”

The older man slowly nodded in understanding, taking a long drag from the expensive cigar between his fat fingers, the gold ring on his pinky also shining brightly under the harsh sun’s light.

“I just thought that after our arrangement-”

“Arvin, I don’t regret making you an heir, I don’t.” He stated, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “Hell, I can feel something big and bad coming, boy, you understand? I know God’s will is holding out on us, on this family. But it’s running thin.”

The young man clenched his jaw, internally cringing on what that might mean to the family, for the family, what it meant for Y/n. He bit his tongue, feeling the iron seep onto his taste buds.

“And I know those damn Teagardins are plotting, they’re plotting for our downfall. Making you next in line is something they won’t see coming, and I trust it’ll stay that way. But I don’t quite understand

“Well I love your daughter, I love her so much that it hurts. And if worst comes to worst…” he stopped, his bottom lip wavering for a moment, trying to carefully dance around the different outcomes of this conversation. “I feel I’ll be better able to protect her if we’re married, if she’s truly mine.” That part might have been a lie. Y/n has never been his, never would be. She was her own person, outside Arvin, outside the family. It was what he loved about her above all else.

The Pastor was quiet for a moment contemplating his response, calculating it.

“Would you die for her?”

“Yes.” The answer came without thought, it was automatic for Arvin.

The Pastor smiled widely, lifting his arms.

“So, when’s the wedding, Arv?

Turns out, it was exactly a year, a month, and 6 days until Y/n and Arvin would tie the knot. Arvin had spent time, waiting to find the perfect moment to ask her the big question. He had decided on a night where the moon was bright and the sky was clear. They sat together in what they had donned “their” field, the greenery around them rustling in the wind. Though he was nervous, he had delivered a stunning speech that had taken poor Y/n’s heart by force. It ended up with both of them crying like babies and a shiny ring on Y/n’s finger.

The wedding itself had taken place on a beautiful summer’s day, and Y/n had worn a pretty white dress that had made Arvin almost faint when he saw her, standing there on her father’s arm. She was all decked out in the most expensive diamonds and pearls, courtesy of her father, making her shine like a crystal of sorts.

It was the best night of her life, Arv’s too. But the joy they had felt must have an inevitable end, as the worst night (Arvin’s too) was soon to follow.

It had been an ambush, the death of the Y/l/n family. The death toll had managed to wrack up every member immediate member of the esteemed mob family, including the Pastor, his wife, and their two sons. A bomb planted in the trunk of their Cadillac that had gone off, placed there by who knows. 

When Arvin had heard, his immediate reaction was to thank God that Y/n had decided to stay with him that day, to go lay in the fields just the two of them. Immediately after she had been told, she had fallen into Arvin, her entire body weight being put into his arms. Sobs wracked through her frame, her tears dampening Arvin’s yellow button up.

Once she had “come to”, Y/n had grown to be furious rather than sad. As when you look at the lineage of her family, look at the ranks of the mob and who’s to rise to power when the one in front of them dies, well Arvin was right after Y/n’s big brother, Jamie.

And Y/n had loved her big brother, she had loved him very much and would like to believe that Arvin, her sweet, sweet Arvin, would never do anything of that multitude just to satiate his hunger and appetite for power. The hunger for power she wasn’t even aware he possessed. But how in the Hell was she even supposed to be sure?

“I want to believe you, Arv, I do. But I can’t! It don’t make any damn sense, Arvin!”

“You really think that low of me, Y/n/n?”

Y/n had been shouting, trying to confront him for a crime he hadn’t committed. But Arvin was calm as he spoke, his eyes only watering and his voice only bordering on wavering. Y/n reached a trembling hand to her scalp, pulling lightly on her roots. The tears slipping down her face were hot and salty and she hated it so much.

“What else am I supposed to think?” She lifted an arm, sniffling before putting her other one on her waist, the blue of her dress, the same dress Arvin adored so much, just barely matching what was to become of her mood. She was started to regress, the red hot anger from before transforming to a stormy blue of unsure waters.

“My whole family is dead, and it just so happened that you asked me to stay with you the day they died! My whole family is dead!” She screamed, her voice a crescendo of sorts. “And everyone is clean, Arv, except you. You got the motive, you got the alibi, I’ll give you that much.” She paused, briefly wiping her nose and looking to the blank wall to the left of her father’s office. “It’s funny;” she dryly chuckled, and Arvin looked up.

“You went from doing my daddy’s dirty work to gettin’ some poor bastard to do your own. Ironic isn’t it?”  

Arvin stepped towards her, pain twisting his insides up to see his best girl afraid of him, cowering away from his touch.

“You still have me, Y/n. I’m your family.”

She looked to her feet and back to him, shaking her head.

“No, Arv. You’re not. And you will be sorry for what you did to him, to all of them. You will be.” She said, walking away with her heels clicking heavily on the wooden floors. Arvin stood still for a while, not quite sure where to go next. But it dawned on him as the stained glass shone down on his feet in the most poetic manner, that he was already there.

So he dragged his feet along with him, breaths ragged and short, his head slowly tilting up towards the glorious light. He only had to go a few feet, before he sat down in the old leather chair, the only emotions he felt being those of an imposter. He thought back to all the nervous conversations he’d had with the pastor while he was sitting in that chair, a trembling Arvin usually standing opposite, awaiting instruction.

He darted his eyes across the mahogany surface in front of him, looking at all the various things that he only could associate with Y/n’s father. His valued cigar box, the crystalline tray that rested next to it. (He swore he could still smell the fresh smoke, wafting from the little dish.) He opened it, the latch clinking before his hand reached in and his fingers clasped around one of the thick rolls of tobacco. Before he could light it, he felt overwhelmed all of a sudden, and dropped it back into the box, slamming the lid.

He laid back, resting his weary head. Arvin took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, before falling into a not so peaceful slumber.

He was only woken minutes later, Joseph, Y/n’s uncle, wanting to know if Arvin had seen her lately. He shook his head, muttering an annoyed “No”. Joseph got the idea relatively quickly, exiting the room. He heard the chapel’s doors close, taking that as his queue to leave once he saw the time. So he grabbed his hat and his coat, leaving the office and making his way through the dimly lit space. His attention was caught, though, by the cross by the front pews, so beautifully shining. Arvin put down his things, and walked over to the pew, sitting down on the uncomfortable hardwood. He bowed his head, putting his interlocked fingers utop the surface in front of him.

He hadn’t done this in awhile, this whole praying thing. It seemed naive in his way of life, with the things that happened around him, the people lost. But nonetheless, if ever, now was a good time to try.

“Heavenly Father, I, I, uh, I need to talk to you. To, uh, set the record straight.” His hands were sweaty, tears welling in his eyes.

“Y/n, she’s- well she’s the love of my life, God, and I don’t think she loves me anymore. Hell, she wants me dead. But I don’t blame her, I couldn’t ever. Not after...” he paused, his bottom lip shaking, “Not if she thinks I killed her family. But I didn’t, Father, I didn’t and I could never. But she don’t see that. I need her to see that.” He raised his voice, the bitter droplets rolling down his reddened cheeks, hitting his shoes.

“I can’t live without her, I won’t. So I guess I’m askin’ you a favor, Lord. Just… let her know I didn’t do it, that I would never hurt her.” His voice cracked, his words barely audible, not that whoever was listening cared.

“That I love her so much.”

Arvin muttered something of an “Amen”, and then just sat there for he wasn’t sure how long. His silence was interrupted by a mellow and raw voice, cutting through the silence like the sharpest dagger.

“It was the Teagardin family. I just found out.”

Arvin stood and turned so fast he dizzied himself, having to hold onto the back of the pew for stability. His bottom lip quivered, his flushed features gaining a confused look.

“Y/n/n? How long you been there?” He questioned, not bothering to wipe his eyes. She shifted from one foot to the other, fumbling with her hands.

“Long enough.”

There was a mutual understanding at her few words from the two of them, and an apology within them all the same. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose runny and her overall appearance disheveled. Despite that, just the fact that she was there, to him, made her the most beautiful girl in the world. 

Arvin could tell she was holding herself back, her emotions, too, as she started to speak, barely able to get through a sentence as she rambled about how she shouldn’t have assumed things, and that it wasn’t right of her to accuse her beloved of something so dire. But none of it mattered to Arvin as he strode towards her, her words only ceasing when he finally wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Arv.” She sobbed, gripping onto him for dear life. That was all she said, repeating it over and over again with the exception of “I love you” also being reiterated. 

Her husband spoke over her hushed tone, saying “It’s alright, doll, I know. You were right to think that, it’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” They continued that way for some time until they both regained their bearings, Arvin wrapping an arm around her shoulders and walking down the front stairs of the chapel. 

“Let’s go home, sweet girl.” He had said, so they did. Arvin kissed the side of her head, regarding once more how he loved her, before starting the ride home, his hand on her thigh the whole time, not wanting to let her go for even a second.

His mind was plagued with thoughts of the past, and he remembered an old saying he had heard long ago. What was it? Ah, you know what they say.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

·。·。·。

how we feeling folks did we like? gimme feedback if u wanna! mwah love u, take care of urself

 xx hj

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #mob!arvin russell #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel x reader #tdatt fanfiction #tdatt imagine #the devil all the time #the devil all the time fic #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #we will rock queue #watch this flop LOL #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw cancer #tw family #tw death #tw smoking

[ventiskies]

Lone Traveler | Venti

pairing: venti x hurt! reader

summary: you often clear out hilichurl camps with amber and the knights but the one time you do it alone, something had to happen to you. fortunately, a certain (cute) bard had came to your rescue and come to send you back.

a/n: my first genshin fic!! of course it had to be venti hehe, hope you like it and massive apologies if he’s ooc/for any errors! send requests if youd like >3<

Fighting the hilichurls at night had become a hobby you recently developed after going out on random ‘clearing’ trips with the Knights of Favonius, specifically Amber, who on every occasion after the mission, treats you and Paimon to Good Hunter’s sticky honey roast.

All of you were a good team, whenever there was a bigger monster, you knew someone would always have your back, and every mission had always presented success, the worst injuries only being a few deep scratches that Barbara could heal easily.

But one day, you had decided that it was probably the perfect time to go out and venture alone. The knights were busy and feeling confident fighting by yourself, you had taken the opportunity. Paimon had stayed back, claiming that she doesn't want to go if the day wouldn't end with honey roast (not that she helps anyways), but you hadn’t minded, saying that you were just going not far out and if you don't return by morning, then she should maybe try and find you.

Though seeing as you had never done a solo venture out of Mondstadt before, it was no surprised you had gone lost in the woods as soon as you had entered the thick trees.

You had been walking for a while, and suddenly, you saw a small campfire. Assuming it was a friendly traveler such as yourself and in with your heart that had been beating with slight fear and uneasiness, you had quickly ran towards them without thinking twice hoping they would help you find your way back before the sun rose. but when you got closer, you had realized it was in fact, not a person. and when you had come to that conclusion, it had been too late as the first monster that had spotted you shot an arrow directly towards you, alarming the rest of the batch.

This was bad

You successfully were able to avoid the first arrow, but the moment got you distracted and in a blink of an eye, you found yourself being pushed and thrown by the force of a shield of a Mitachurl charging full speed at you. you feel your feet start to burn as they were dragged against the rough grass, and the painful sensation as you hit headfirst against the rubble. 

“Ouch...” you groan quietly, reaching out to rub your head, but the moment you had pulled back, the hilichurls roared, as if releasing a battle cry to alarm the others.

Fuck

Deciding to be smart, you had gotten up and ran (half limped) away, finding it difficult to outrun the group of monsters but managing to get far enough to be out of sight from them who you definitely took note to deal with in the morning,

Or make someone else deal with them, you had thought as you sat down on the stone, thankful that you were able to trudge towards the big tree just outside Mondstadt and inspected the damage it had done to you. only then had you realized that the hand you had used to cover your head was sticky and moist, and the moment you focused, you saw it was red. you were bleeding.

Just great.

You looked up at the sky, blanketing Teyvat with litters of stars that had offered a little comfort at the moment;  and released a small sigh. it was dark and you were lost, although you could just take the path back to Mondstadt, there was a high chance the monsters were waiting for you as stupid as they could be, and you really didn't think you could fight them at the moment with the gash on your leg and your bleeding head.

You shut your eyes tight, silently wishing that you hadn't decided to be so brave and venture on your own and regretting not forcing Paimon to come with you. this was it, you were over. sometimes you wished your other sibling was here for you. they’d know what to do.

But not a minute later, you feel it. a light breeze, a gust of wind passing just through you, as if gently caressing. you shivered, what was that?

It had been too brief to be a random wind passing, and when you opened your eyes, you understood why.

The moment you opened your eyes, you found yourself staring back into an unfamiliar pair of aqua orbs, wide and curious staring right into your soul, extremely close for your comfort. so naturally, as one who had just opened their eyes after trying to calm down after a fight and had assumed was alone would do, you screamed at the top of your lungs and moved back, trying to get as far as the strange person was from you.

“Woah, hey- calm down!” the person says, alarmed that you had started to run away from him. he starts to walk closer to you, and you assumed he was about to shut your mouth from how he had both hands outstretched over each other, so you only screamed harder.

“Okay, okay! I won't hurt you, see? I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently, eyes wide as if he was also afraid, trying to calm you down, and once you did, he smiles, “there we go. hey there! the name’s Venti, you okay?”

“What?” you asked in disbelief, because who was this person?! Why was he here? Were you being kidnapped? Is this a dream?

Venti frowns, “hey, don't look at me like that!” he says feigning offence, “you’re y/n, right? I saw you running away from those monsters earlier, you got beat really bad,”

“H-How did you know...?” you asked, slowly standing up, looking up at him as he had been taller than you, “and I’m a traveler and I know how to fight, I just... got surprised,” you insisted, not wanting to seem weak in front of the boy. you couldn’t see well, but you could tell he had dark blue to black hair with short twin braids (that strangely reminded you of the statue of the seven that had granted you with the power of anemo just before you had arrived in mondstadt). 

He looked so familiar, yet you were certain you had never seen him.

“Oh, I just know,” he smiles, offering you a hand, “can you stand?”

“Are... are you from Mondstadt?” you ask, hesitant to take his hand. you glance down at his vision, a proud anemo symbol displayed on it. you hear Venti chuckle.

“Yeah!” he says, “but, not always. I mean,” he pauses, “if you’ll try to find me there, you won't be able to. I’m a bard,” he adds, as if it would help you understand better, “but you can trust me, don’t worry. I know this place well,”

“I’m perfectly capable,” you shook your head at his claims, “where did you even come from?!”

“I told you! I saw you running from those hilichurls and decided to come and help,” he pouts, arm dropping to his side, “Come on, you're hurt. I know you're capable but... I’ll-I’ll just bring you back to Mondstadt so I can know you arrived safely, promise!”

“I dont know...” you look around, fiddling with your fingers in fear. it was dark, and you weren't usually afraid of it or even the least bit bothered, but with what you had endured just minutes before, you were surely not going to return alone. 

Sensing this, Venti breaks into a smile, “great! come on, now, I wouldn't let a fellow traveler go back alone! especially not the honorary knight!”

Deciding not to ask how he knew these things, you decided to take his hand and follow his lead towards Mondstadt, or at least, hope you were heading there now. you didn’t want to trust this self proclaimed ‘bard’, but the options were limited, and you really didn’t want to choose death in the obvious sense, which was in the hands of a hilichurl, probably found by Paimon a few hours later.

On your way back, you find out that Venti was definitely talkative. he had asked you a bunch of questions, and even offered to sing you some of his songs. the sun had slowly begun to rise just far into the horizon as you listened to the bard’s chatter, casually slipping in a few jokes that had the two of you laughing so hard that you had to stop for a moment at one point. and although he might be doing it out of pity for your bleeding (now dried up) head, you still felt warm whenever he talked passionately about Mondstadt and its people as if he ruled over them, albeit being quite mischievous.

You found your chemistry somewhat a match, as if… as if you had met him before.

Thankfully, there weren’t any hilichurls blocking the path on the way, so you didn’t have to deal with them anymore (or at least, for the time being. it was as if they had all left as soon as Venti arrived... or he had cleared them out the moment he saw you running away from them. either way, you were thankful the journey wasn't bothered)

“Here we are! Mondstadt! the city of freedom!” Venti smiles, his smile on par with the rising sun’s as he finally lets your hand go the moment you arrive at the bridge- that had been the moment you realized he had been holding your hand the whole time. gosh, I really trusted someone to bring me home.

“Well, I did bring you home, didn’t I?” Venti laughs, and you bite your cheek, feeling flustered that you had accidentally said your thought out loud, “I guess this is where we part!”

“Huh?” you asked, dumbfounded, “wait, where will you be going?”

Venti merely smiles, bowing dramatically for a brief moment, “around,” he states vaguely, “farewell, young one!”

“You’re saying that as if you’re not young yourself,” you mumbled, and at that, Venti bursts out laughing, causing you to look at him weirdly, “what? Isn’t that true?”

“you have no idea how many times I get that,” he wipes a tear dramatically, “well, until we meet again, traveler! be careful next time, or i might as well have to find you again,” he jokes, before waving you off, walking away from the bridge and back out the path and into the woods, where he disappears through the thick trees without turning back.

What an odd person. 

So the next day, when you had ventured further than the usual route the knights cleared out, you silently hope you’d find him again.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact venti #venti x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #genshin venti #genshin x reader #genshin venti x reader

[themetaphorgirl]

alright but can i request a patron saint hotch loopy on day quill one shot?? bc i would love to read that even if it takes like 3 years to get around to it 🥺🥺🥺

did I get in the mood to write something cuddly and kind of silly with lots of Alex and Aaron: The Wonder Twins vibes???

yes I did. also I wrote over half of this on my phone during my break at work.

----------

“...so when you think about it colloquially, it’s perfectly acceptable to refer to the monster as Frankenstein, so-“

Alex moved Spencer’s glass of orange juice out of the way before he could knock it over with an overenthusiastic wave of his hand. “JJ, what are you doing?” she asked, exasperated.

JJ reached into her cereal bowl, picked up a couple of pieces, and tossed it into an empty mug. “There’s too much cereal in my lucky charms, I only wanted the marshmallows,” she said.

“You can’t eat just marshmallows, Jennifer.”

“I’m not. I got donuts too.”

“Hotch wasn’t here to stop her,” Emily snickered. 

Alex sighed. “Where is Hotchner?” she said. “It’s not like him to be late.” 

“He said he slept through his alarm and he’d meet us here,” Derek said, stabbing his fork into a hashbrown. 

“That’s also not like Hotch,” Alex said. She caught Spencer before he could topple out of his chair onto the floor. “Darling, I’m so glad you’re this enthusiastic at seven in the morning, but please sit down.”

Spencer obeyed, sliding down from his knees to sit on his bottom. “I got the wrong juice, I don’t like this kind,” he said. “I got the kind with pulp.”

“Why didn’t you get the kind you like?” Alex asked. 

“Hotch gets it for me because I’m too short to see the labels. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

Alex pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket. “He hasn’t texted me or the group chat,” she said. “It’s not like him to be late.”

“Should we be worried? I feel like we should be worried,” Penelope said. 

“We don’t need to worry,” Alex said. “Spencer, what are you doing?”

“Getting the pulp out of my juice. I shouldn’t have to chew juice.”

“Please put the spoon down.”

“I’ll get you juice,” Penelope promised.

“Thank you,” Alex said. “And can you please get something for JJ that isn’t dehydrated marshmallows?”

“I like them.”

“Eat a fruit, Jennifer!”

Derek paused as Penelope left the table. “Uh...we might need to worry about Hotch,” he said. 

Alex twisted around in her seat to look behind her. “Oh, fuck,” she sighed. 

Hotch’s tie was knotted wrong, leaving one end of the tie dangling by his belt buckle, and his blazer was misbuttoned. His dark hair flopped over his eyes, still sleep-mussed, and his backpack was unzipped. “Hey, guys,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.” He tried to hang his backpack on the empty chair next to Alex but missed completely, sending it crashing to the floor. “Well, shit.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” Emily said. 

Hotch blinked. “I overslept,” he said, rubbing his ear. “What time is it?”

“Almost time to go to homeroom,” Alex said. “Are you okay?”

He kept rubbing his ear. “Huh?” he said. He sat down heavily next to Alex. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Do I have time to eat?” 

JJ slid her mug of cereal over to him. “You can have the rest of my lucky charms,” she offered. 

Hotch scooped a handful of dry cereal into his mouth and frowned. “What happened to all the marshmallows?” he asked. 

“I ate them.”

“You can have my juice,” Spencer offered. 

Hotch reached around Alex, picked up the glass, and took a swig. “Ugh, there’s stuff in it,” he complained. “I don’t want to chew my juice.”

“That’s what I said!” Spencer said. 

Alex frowned. “I don’t think you’re okay,” she said. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “Yikes, Aaron. You’re burning up.”

“Hm?” he said. He coughed, a thick sound rattling deep in his chest. “I’m okay. I drank like...half a bottle of DayQuil.”

“I can tell,” she said, poking at the damp orange stain on his uniform shirt. He squinted down at it and frowned. “Also, drinking half a bottle of DayQuil doesn’t mean you’re okay. I think that’s the opposite of okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hotch said. “I have a test in second period I can’t miss.”

Emily caught his arm across the table. “Stop, stop, stop,” she said. “Do you know you’re about to pour your juice into your cereal?”

Hotch paused long enough for Alex to carefully take the glass out of his hand while he blinked in confusion. “Maybe you should make up the test later,” she suggested. 

“No, I can handle a test,” he said. He blinked, then clapped a hand over his face. “Oh, shit. I think I only put one contact in this morning.” He rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye. “Shit. Aw, yikes.”

“You need to go back to bed,” Alex said. “Or the nurse’s office.”

He swatted at her hand. “No, I don’t, Alexandra,” he said. “It’s just a chest cold. Stop treating me like Spencer.”

Spencer scowled. “I think I’m insulted by that,” he said. 

Alex put Spencer’s fork back in his hand. “Eat your breakfast,” she said. “Listen, Hotch, I can’t stop you if you want to go to class. But nobody’s going to judge you if you stay in your room and rest.”

Hotch coughed into his elbow. “I’m gonna get a Red Bull,” he said, pushing himself out of his chair and nearly knocking it over in the process. 

“Oh, he’s definitely sick,” Derek said. “You hear his Virginia accent coming out? He sounds like Colonel Sanders.”

“Don’t worry, Al, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Emily said. 

“Thanks,” she said. “Spencer, you have to drink your juice. You and Hotch have no immune systems and if he gets sick, you’re going to get sick, and I can’t deal with both of you coughing up a lung.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer said. “Although vitamin C-“

“Drink your juice.”

By the time breakfast was over Alex was confident that Hotch wasn’t going to last the whole day. His cough was deep and persistent, and he kept absentmindedly rubbing his ears. She couldn’t exactly blame him- she’d pulled similar stunts herself when a big test or project was coming up- but this was more than a mild cold. Most likely he’d make it to lunch before he relented. 

To her surprise, it was even sooner. 

She got to chapel early and pulled out her book to read, but she nearly dropped it when Emily’s voice cut through the soft chatter of the hall. 

“Hey, Alex, come get your twin!”

Alex picked up her book and set it back beside her. “For the last time, Emily, stop telling everybody that Hotch and I are twins,” she said. She stopped. “Oh, no.”

Hotch was leaning heavily on Emily’s shoulder, his eyes glazed over. “Hey, I think I need to sit down,” he said. 

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Emily huffed, struggling under his weight. “You shouldn’t have gone to class in the first place.”

“I had a test,” he said. 

Alex crossed her arms. “Yeah?” she said. “How’d that go for you, bubba?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t remember taking the test,” he confessed. “I remember sitting down at my desk and then...everything got kind of blurry.”

Alex sighed. “Please tell me you’re going back to your room to rest,” she said. 

“I mean...it’s not that bad.” Hotch said. “I’ve been sicker before.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

Emily scanned the chapel doors. “Oh, wow, is that Haley Brooks over there?” she said. “You should go over and say hello. Haley! Hi, Haley!” 

“No!” Hotch said. “Jesus, Emily, I don’t want to talk to her right now, I look like shit!”

“Then you should definitely go back to your room before she sees you,” Emily said. She gave him a gentle push towards the back exit doors. “Come on, hurry up.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Alex called, but he was out the door already, his still-unzipped backpack dangling off one shoulder. 

Emily tilted her head. “I don’t think he heard you,” she said. “He looks like death warmed over through. I’m kind of worried. Which means your spidey-sense must have bypassed tingling and gone straight to exploding.”

“I should have gone with him,” Alex said. “Although I’m not sure I would be able to explain missing classes.”

“Just tell your teachers you have to take care of your brother,” Emily suggested. 

Alex rolled her eyes. “Listen, I don’t know you and Dave keep telling everybody we’re related,” she said. “We’re in different grades. We have different last names.”

“C’mon, it’s fun, you’re the Wonder Twins,” Emily said. She squished Alex’s cheeks and laughed. “You look enough alike to pass for siblings.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Alex said flatly, batting her hand away. “We’d better go sit before chapel starts.”

She kept her phone close through chapel and her third period class. He didn’t text her, but that wasn’t reassuring either. No news wasn’t necessarily good news.

The bell rang at the end of third period, but she hesitated before she started the walk towards the dining hall. She tapped her fingertips against the back of her phone case, and after a moment she typed out a text. Her phone buzzed seconds later with an answer.

Jamie <3

11:26am

yeah I figured youd want to check on him. dont worry about the baby i’ll make sure he eats a vegetable. love you!!!! 

Alex felt the back of her neck heat up as she smiled at the screen. The whole love thing was still shiny and new and made little sparks prickle at the nape of her neck. 

She slung the strap of her satchel across her shoulder and made the trek across campus to Lincoln House. Hotch had given her a spare key fob- Derek was constantly losing and finding his, resulting in multiple replacements floating around- and she let herself into the quiet lobby. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many people around.

“Ah, Miss Miller. What are you doing over here? Shouldn’t you be in the dining hall?”

Alex jumped. She was not expecting to see Mr. Gideon standing in the lobby and staring at her. “Checking on my brother, he’s, uh, he’s sick,” she blurted out.

“Oh, the big one or the little one?” he asked. 

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” he said. “Aaron or Spencer?”

“It’s, uh, it’s the big one this time,” she said.

Mr. Gideon nodded sagely. “Your twin,” he said. “Well, go on up. Hope he feels better soon.”

He walked out to his office and closed the door; she sighed heavily. Maybe Emily and Dave were on to something after all.

She made her way up the stairs to the seventh floor and knocked lightly on his closed door. “Hotch?” she called. “It’s Alex. I just wanted to check on you.” He didn’t answer. “Hotch?” She tried the handle. “Oh, of course you locked the door.” She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and stuck it in the keyhole. 

The lock popped easily after a bit of fiddling and she opened the door. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Hotchner,” she sighed. 

His unzipped backpack had dumped half its contents in the middle of the floor when he’d dropped it, along with his uniform blazer and his right shoe. Hotch was sprawled out on his bed on top of the covers, his long gangly legs dragging on the floor and his left shoe still on. He was still wearing his uniform and his rarely-worn glasses perched at a crooked angle on his nose, threatening to fall off at any moment as he snored. 

“You’re dead to the world, aren’t you, bubba?” she said aloud. She set her satchel and blazer down on Hotch’s desk and sat on the edge of his bed. His breathing was shallow and congested, and his face was flushed red. “Hotch. Hotchner. Wake up for a second.” She pinched him lightly and his eyes shot open. “Hey, good, you’re awake.”

“What the fuck?” he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes, knocking his glasses sideways. “How did you get in here?”

“Picked the lock with a bobby pin,” she said.

He scrunched up his nose. “Like Annie Drew?”

“It’s Nancy Drew, and maybe that’s where I learned it from, I read a lot of mystery novels when I was an impressionable middle schooler,” she said. She tucked her legs underneath her and touched the back of her hand to his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hot garbage,” he said. “This cold is kicking my ass.”

“I don’t think you have a cold, bubba, I think you have bronchitis,” she said. “Did you take anything when you got back here or did you just crash?”

“Well, I’ve had most of a bottle of DayQuil today,” he said. He struggled to sit up. “You know what happens when you drink most of a bottle of DayQuil?”

“No, what happens?”

“Nothing good, I’ll tell you that for free,” he said. 

Alex winced in sympathy. “You threw up?”

He ran his hands through his hair and dragged his palms over his face. “It was neon orange, Al,” he said, slightly muffled. 

“That’s no good,” she said. “Did you-”

He broke into a cough, thick and heavy and rattling in his lungs, and Alex rubbed his back. “Hey, you’re okay,” she said gently. “Take a deep breath. You’re okay,”

It took a moment for him to settle down and breathe normally again; his glasses tilted drunkenly on his nose and his eyes were watering. “That sucked,” he rasped. 

“Yeah, I bet,” she said. “You’ve got the sore throat, right? Feels like you swallowed broken glass?”

“I was going to say barbed wire, but yeah,” he said. 

Alex squeezed his knee. “Get out of your uniform and lie down,” she said. “I’ll go get you something to drink. How much water have you had today?”

“If Red Bull counts, then I’ve had two waters.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll go get you water and a gatorade,” she said. “You get changed.”

She started to leave the room. “Hey, Alex?” he asked. She paused in the doorway. “Can you get me a purple one?”

“Yes, I’ll get you a purple gatorade.”

“The light purple, not the dark purple,” he called after her.

“I remember, I remember,” she called back. 

She went down to the vending machines and got him two bottled waters and a light purple gatorade. For all his mature-for-his-age, old soul vibe, Hotch was as hard to handle as Spencer when he wasn’t feeling well.

His door was cracked when she got back to his room, but she paused. He’d changed into flannel pajama pants and he was struggling into one of his wrestling tee shirts. Alex bit back a wince and ducked back into the hallway. She rarely saw the scars on his back, but he usually kept them well hidden and it never got easier to see it. He didn’t like to talk about it, and she didn’t blame him.

When she was sure the coast was clear she stepped back into the room. Hotch sat on his bed, his shoulders slumped and his head in his hands. “Headache?” she asked as she set the bottles down on his nightstand. 

“It feels like there’s a rock concert playing directly in my brain,” he said.

She went into his bathroom and dug around in the medicine cabinet. He didn’t have much for himself; it was mostly medicine they kept on hand for Spencer. “Oh, I can give you the big boy ibuprofen instead of the chewable stuff,” she teased. She set the bottle of ibuprofen down with the drinks. “This first though. Hold still.”

She set the thermometer in his ear and he jumped. “Ow,” he complained. “You could have warned me.”

“If I warned you, you’d try to argue,” she said. It beeped and she held it out so he could see the readout. “A hundred point four. You’re not going to class today, or tomorrow either.”

He rolled his eyes. “At least I got my test done,” he said. 

“How do you think you did?” she asked. 

“I don’t think I failed.”

Alex took his hand so she could place the pills in his hand, then opened one of the bottles of water. “Take these. Drink all of this. And then go to sleep,” she said. 

“I’m not tired, I had so much DayQuil,” he complained as he popped the pills in his mouth. 

“Which you’ve already puked back up,” she pointed out. “You need to get some sleep.”

He chugged a third of the water and paused to cough. “I just need to rest,” he said. “Can you hand me my laptop.”

“No.”

Hotch scowled. “Alexandra. Give me my laptop,” he said. “I have an essay due on Friday.” 

She grabbed his laptop and wrestled it into her school bag. “You can have it back when you’re not running a fever,” she said. 

“Alex!” he whined. “I need to work on that.” She bit back a laugh. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Sorry, it’s hard to take you seriously with your nerd glasses on,” she said. He huffed, which turned into another cough. “Seriously, Aaron. You need to take it easy. And it’s school policy that you can’t attend classes until you’ve been fever-free for twenty-four hours.” He rubbed his ear. “Besides, you know Spencer’s going to try to spend quality time with you, and he’s not going to be able to handle it if he catches what you have. The more you rest and take care of yourself, the sooner you’ll get over it.”

Hotch sighed. “Fine,” he said. “You win.”

“I usually do.”

“You just had to play the Spencer card.” 

“I was saving it just in case.”

Hotch set the empty water bottle back on the nightstand and shifted around until he was under the covers. “Are you going back to class?” he asked. “Lunch is almost over.”

He sounded nonchalant, but he was avoiding her eyes and tugging at a loose thread on his comforter. “I can stay a while longer,” she said. “Besides, if anybody asks where I was, Gideon can tell them I was with you. You know he thinks we’re twins too?”

“For such a brilliant man, he’s kind of clueless,” Hotch said. “I’m not going to sleep, but I’ll rest, okay?”

“Sure,” Alex said. “Do you want to watch something?” She pulled at the laces of her ankle boots. “Do you want to watch wrestling?”

“I don’t watch wrestling.”

Alex looked him up and down. “We all know you’re a secret wrestling fan,” she said. “And even if you say you’re not, I can read your tee shirt.”

“No one ever wants to watch wrestling with me,” he said.

“Yes, well, you’re sick, you should get to watch what you want,” she said. She set her boots aside and handed him the remote. “Now scoot over.”

He paused, the remote balanced in his hand as the TV blinked on. “Why?” he asked.

“Because I said so,” she said. “I mean it! Scoot over.”

He obeyed, still clearly confused, and she pulled and tugged at him until they both fit on his narrow twin bed, his head resting on her stomach. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Wow, you really are mostly limbs, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had a couple of growth spurts,” he said. “You’re sure you want to watch wrestling with me?”

“Go for it,” she said. 

Truthfully she had no desire to watch wrestling, but she knew it would make him happy, and when he was this sick he deserved things that would make him happy. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, and before long she heard him snoring again, the sound thick and rattling in his lungs. When she was sure he was asleep she tugged his glasses off and set them aside on the nightstand. Most likely he would wake up cranky and groggy and he’d try to argue that he could go to class, but for now she could keep him calm and quiet, and hopefully the sleep would help. 

“Maybe you’ll be a little bit less of an absolute disaster when you wake up,” she said, and she kept stroking his hair while he slept. 

#au: patron saint of lost causes #caitlin writes things #patron saint: hotch #patron saint: alex #patron saint: the wonder twins #alex is a mom #hotch is an ABSOLUTE DISASTER #spencer is a perfect cherub #wow james loves alex #emily is a queen #EAT A FRUIT JENNIFER #yes hotch is a secret wrestling fan #criminal minds fanfiction #brenna has helped me workshop a lot of ideas for my hotch arc and some of those ideas are popping up here #Anonymous #thank you for asking!!

[eivorsjawline]

The Last Day

tw: mention of bloodshed, mental health struggles and alcohol.

*Not the last chapter dont worry, next will be last.

Chapter 9:

Eivor’s POV

I tend to reminisce on the past, my parents, Sigurd, the clan and the times when my family was whole. With the cold whip of the wind and the iridescent reflections in the sky, Norway will forever be my home. Even distant England holds a place within my heart as well as the family I built there. The answer to my hunger lies within myself and whether or not to go back to what I know or stay by the woman beside me. A choice between my honor and the person who I’ve grown to love the most. Though time keeps changing constantly, the recent past loops repeatedly in my head. These days I find myself staring at the walls, the ceiling and the emptiness around me. The dark realization that I have no purpose here, or do I? Life was peaceful but I missed the blade of my ax, I missed the bloodshed. I spent my whole life achieving greatness in what I knew, It was what I was bred for. There was an unspoken oath I took the day I was removed from my mother's womb.

A feeling of guilt always succeeded me, every passing day. What exactly I left behind and what the consequences would be. I have to remind myself that I would have died if It wasn’t for Y/n saving me. I understand now that the technologies that I have here were needed for my survival. Just herbs, alcohol and bandages wouldn’t have been enough to stop the life-threatening wounds I had. I was beaten, bruised and cut so badly I was nearly in a comatose state of mind. Even now, I still get flashbacks to that day and the fight. As a drengr, I’ve grown more and more cold to the idea of war and violence but there will always be something about that specific day. I can't seem to shake the feeling that it hasn’t ended and only more is to come.

Whilst I’ve been adjusting to modern life, I’ve turned to the bottle more times than I should. There have been days where I’ve fallen asleep on the couch, no recollection of even trying to get up yet I always wake up in bed with a blanket over my body. I can’t bear the thought of Y/n supporting me so I found honest work as a carpenter. With a few tweaks, I adjusted fine along with the help of co-workers and friends I made along the way. I feel I’ve become a shell of a being, the impact of everyday life burdens me. It’s not fun anymore, it's real and every day. The walk back home was loud and the people I found strange weren’t so odd anymore. I knew the truth within me, that I had become one of them too. I was almost always alone with my thoughts now that Y/n had started work again. Her hours tended to be late and tedious. She was the only thing keeping my sanity, everyday I drew a breath was for her. With the looks we shared, I wondered if she knew my real thoughts. My melancholic sulking was interrupted when a woman bumped shoulders with me and stopped me in my tracks. When I turned I recognized a familiar face waiting for me.

Reader’s POV

I was shocked when I came home, to say the least. The air was quiet, telling of the predicament I had placed myself in. I never thought I’d see Eivor and Valka sitting down together in my house. The silence was so loud, I couldn’t place my finger on exactly what but there was a feeling within me that knew why she was here. At first glance, she seemed unrecognizable but with a closer look, I recognized her right away. She looked almost the same with a more present-day twist to fit in. Faint freckles danced on her warm skin along with the intensity of her usual solemn expression. Her hair was pulled back and her eyebrows were as thick and beautiful as I remembered. She wore a light tan dress, she would never stray too far from her traditional taste. Valka wouldn’t have come this far for anything, a gut-wrenching feeling consumed me. I placed my belongings on a table near me and the three of us gathered around one another, the silence eating me alive.

“I want to make this as straightforward and honest as possible. We needed you then like we need Eivor now. Without you, Eivor would indefinitely no longer be with us. Ever since Eivor’s absence, the Danes and Saxons have grown only more divided.”

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Eivor had a worrisome look on her face, one that I had never seen before. Her eyes roamed around the room as If looking for some sort of distraction, maybe even a way out. I kept her sheltered here all this time and even though I’ve enjoyed every moment I still carry around a lot of guilt with me. The fact that I removed her from all that she knew tore me apart from the inside every day no matter how necessary. Perhaps, Eivor was meant to die there that day and her people’s fate was meant to be sealed. The realization that I could be in the process of ultimately changing the past suddenly struck me. Valka had more to say, a proposal I presumed to be made.

“If my visions are correct, Eivor is the key. My most recent discovery is that time changes throughout different realities and dimensions. It has been only a short amount of time for the both of you but It’s been years for us. Time passes slowly when maneuvering into the future but faster into the past.”

Everyone I met from the clan, I caused Eivor to completely leave them in the dark for years. I didn’t want to admit it but I knew exactly what Valka was getting at. These were Eivor’s last days with me if not the last day. As much as it pains me, she belongs in the past and I belong here. I screwed with time too much already, there are now two people out of place in the world. It’s almost as if Valka is an extraterrestrial being with the powers she holds and her ability to jump in between dimensions as if it were nothing. She had a natural aura about her almost like she could fit in anywhere she went and no one would have any suspicions. I've walked by Eivor’s side this entire time and I can't say the same for her. The road has been difficult and long, I can only imagine the toll it’s taking on her health.

The meeting with Valka was brief until she pulled only Eivor aside to talk to. I figured it wasn’t my business anyway since I was only one part of the story. As nosey as I was, I still tried to hold my breath to listen to their conversation but only whispers and mumbles could be heard. From the side of my peripheral vision, I saw Eivor and she looked stressed beyond all means. She was safe here and content whether she was happy or not and now she has one of the greatest burdens on her shoulders to deal with. A lump formed in my throat, I worried if there was still love between us at least on her end but it could just be my insecurities eating at me. For all, I know this is Eivor’s chance to be done with me and only I to be forgotten. Oh, but I could never forget her or the moments we share. Valka’s footsteps could be heard coming towards me as she came to say her farewells. When I stood up from my seat to make formal eye contact with her, I noticed her posture was straight and confident. I decided to keep my distance because I knew that I grew some sort of attachment to Valka as well. Not much could be said on my end, the decision is up to Eivor only.

Valka left and with her absence, the room grew eerily quiet. I couldn’t face Eivor, just seeing her face made me upset and wrapped in a whelm of emotions. Whenever the world became too much I always escaped outside. Like a coward, I ran towards the sliding door near the back of my apartment trying to hide my oncoming tears that were building up. The rays of the sun hit my skin and the sunset shone down on my face leaving a warm feeling on my cheeks. Tears started to roll down my face and I wiped it off with my shirt sleeve leaving a mess of a damp spot on the fabric. I felt selfish for crying, selfish because I never wanted someone all to myself so badly before. Being alone with my thoughts just caused me to feel them even more intensely, I allowed myself to be consumed by them. Suddenly, I heard what I knew was Eivor’s footsteps shuffling towards me. Quickly, I dried my tears and composed myself within a short time before Eivor stood close behind me.

“You don't have to hide it, I already can tell.”

I've had this moment a thousand times, the one where I try to look like I haven’t just bawled my eyes out. It never fails to completely embarrass me every time. When I turned around I noticed the sun beamed on her skin perfectly and every feature on her face could be seen clearly. She had her hair down, a relaxed look presuming she just got home not too long ago. Her eyebrows were pursed together as if she was studying me and trying to figure out what was on my mind. Eivor was like my guardian angel, always following me through my misfortunes and being my number one support. Truth be told, even if she went I was scared for her and if she could make it through this one. Her wounds were completely healed at this point, but I knew the damage it leaves on the mind is forever permanent.

She pulled me closer to her and wiped the wet spot on my cheek with her thumb. In her eyes, I could tell she was worried whether she admitted it or not. At the moment I catch her off guard her true feelings always show on her face and as soon as her eyes met mine she switched them off. I wanted to be honest with her and tell her my true feelings, how I felt about this situationship we involved ourselves in. My feelings had grown so strong since I met her and I realized I never once told her those three words. The more I tried to force words out of my mouth the more I felt the urge to cry again. Sure enough, tears started to fall down my eyes and my body kept telling me to let go of everything. Eivor brought me tightly into her chest and wrapped her arms around me, reluctant to release me. I heard her say something, mumbling under her breath. When I asked for reassurance as to what she said, she didn't hesitate or move.

“I love you.”

Eivor’s POV

The burden that's been placed upon my shoulders is a heavy one but I’m willing to face it. If I die going back I know that I’ll go in peace and with honor. Though it may have taken some time, I feel that Y/n understands that as well. Not to the degree that a drengr would but to the best of her abilities. She tried her best for me and I devote myself to trying my best for her. I was unsure of a lot of things in my life, but I knew no matter where this life led me that I wanted her there by my side. The sunlight was dying but the night was still young. Knowing it would be our last night here, we decided to savor it together. We did what we do best by getting wine drunk and cranked the volume on the speakers up so loud without a care of who was trying to sleep. The frown that was on her face earlier turned into smiles and laughs as she watched me attempt to dance. I always felt like I could have fun with her and be myself, not so serious all the time. She was a lightweight compared to me, already stumbling a little. Seeing her let loose was cute and showed me a side of her I haven’t seen before. I leaned in closer to her, truth be told she was looking extra sweet tonight. Her beauty was effortless and she didn’t even have to try to turn me on.

“Let me see you dance, I love to see you dance… Take you down another level and get you dancing with the devil.”

I placed my hands on her hips and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I did my best to lead her and sway with the music and It seems I was doing a good job once her cheerful eyes turned into a sultry spark. I pushed my torso closer to her, leaving that space between us no longer. A thousand intrusive thoughts crossed my mind, the most alluring one being that I could die right here and be happy. It’s the feeling moments before making love that is my favorite. My hands started to trace the outline of her body and my mind started to piece together what she looked like underneath the fabric from fond remembrance. Everything that brought me to her was worth it along with every obstacle in between. She leaned in to whisper in my ear and her voice had a noticeable nervous tremble.

“Take me with you…”

Reader’s POV

I said goodbye to everything I knew for the last time, this time the choice is mine willingly. Just a few months ago I would have never thought I’d be here and on my way to the place where it all happened. Where I met the love of my life and my impending future, the events that were to take place. The temperatures dropped so low at night, the bite of the cold felt bitter on my skin. Foolish me, I never take a cover-up anywhere I go. Luckily Eivor was close by and wrapped her jacket around me due to me being visibly upset by the weather. The cold never bothered her, I could feel the heat radiating from under her body when she hovered her arms over my shoulders to place her jacket. The stones were so close yet we hadn’t dared move within their reach. If I was to be honest with myself, I was nervous to go back. Perhaps, they would be upset with me for leaving so suddenly and taking Eivor along with me. It felt like just yesterday I was in England waiting for Eivor’s return by the ship dock.

Something within me felt like I was making the right decision and that this is the fate that was meant for me all along. Regardless of how twisted and strange it may be, I was ready. The entire time being here, Eivor constantly griped and moaned about how she missed home. For once, she was quiet. I always loved how expressive she tended to be with her face, studying everything like a hawk. She needn’t say much, I could tell what she was thinking about. Anxiety, sadness, and excitement all meshed together forming an array of emotions.

Eivor was a step ahead of me, venturing into the stone's embrace as I followed just behind her. Time seemed to pass more slowly, if not coming to a complete end. Throughout this whole experience, I realized that time wasn’t real. The people, the cultures and the history of the past all lived harmoniously with the present. It didn’t feel like I was traveling through time itself but rather visiting a different distant place on the same Earth. Families, lovers and enemies just the same as what we have today. Eivor’s hand met mine and there we held them together. The outline of the scars on the skin of her forehand and all that she endured in her life, a beautifully written story on her body could be felt. Eivor whispered something in her mother's tongue, something I couldn’t understand.

We both kneeled with our backs towards a tall large stone, huddled together with a cold and eerie feeling in the air. Eivor wrapped her arms around mine and we let whatever happened to be just that. I felt safe no matter where this life took me, I knew Eivor would be near. I was ready to live the remainder of my life with her in the past. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I thought of what our life was going to be like together and what our future held. Daydreams and fantasies that I wonder if she too thought of. Passing through a time portal was invisible, you could never really tell if you traveled or not. Something between reality and falsity merged, undetected by the universe itself. I closed my eyes and laid my head to rest in the crook of Eivors shoulder, letting my mind go blank.

#female eivor #fem eivor #eivor wolfkissed #eivor x reader #f!eivor #eivor #eivor wolfsmal #ac valhalla #assasins creed valhalla #fan fic writing #lady eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #assassin's creed valhalla #time travel

[dontbeunraisonable]

Little Yellow Flower - Kaminari Denki x GN!Reader

This was a request from my one of my darling amigas who is not on tumblr. Please enjoy!

Word Count: 1754

Warnings: swearing i guess, one (1) bad pick up line

Denki has to be the most dense person you have ever met in your life. The first day of class he was “laying on the charm”, showering compliments and offering to show you around the school even though you were both first years and he got lost looking for the bathroom.

The compliments were about anything from your eyes to your smile to the way you wrote your notes to the way you tied your tie. The dedication and attention was endearing. So, naturally, you flirted back.

You talked about how cute his smile is, how his training has improved his quirk, how funny he could be, his hair. You reverse uno card his ass and started using cheesy pick up lines.

“It’s handy I have my library card with me,” you said, jokingly lowering your invisible sunglasses,” ‘cause I’m definitely checking you out.”

A bunch of third years shushed you two as you both cracked up while (pretending to be) studying in the library. But it was worth the glares, as his giggling was the most wonderful thing you had ever heard in your life.

You always paired up with him for group projects, even though he sucks at them, just to have an excuse to sit with him and hang out one-on-one. Because you guys definitely did not work hard on those projects.

Unfortunately, he seemed oblivious to the fact that you liked him. So you slowly came to the conclusion that all his joking around was just that: jokes. You weren’t hurt or offended, as flirting between friends wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t leading you on or anything, you had just misread his intentions.

You just continued your flirtatiousness, but wondered if your conclusion changed your behaviour unknowingly. Were you flirting too often now? Too infrequently? Would he notice if there was a difference?

Luckily for you, Denki did not notice, as he was coming to the same conclusion to you, and was worrying about the same things. What if all his flirting just looked like joking around between two friends? That’s how it began, just goofing around with a cute classmate, but somewhere along the line, he realized that he actually did have feelings for his best friend.

No one noticed the new tension between the two of you, and each of you were hoping it was just your imagination that things were more awkward.

That brings us up to now, where you are currently herding a brain-dead Denki out of the training grounds. You weren’t sure why Aizawa Sensei kept putting you two together, but neither of you were complaining.

Today had been more combat training, and Denki had stayed intact for a while, but at the end he decided to go out with a bang. He did well, but now you had to drag his ass back to the locker rooms. You held his hand and slowly led him. He was babbling and wiggling around, getting distracted by everything. You were never letting Sensei assign you the farthest training spot again. You didn’t have a particularly short fuse, but damn were you impatient to go and take a shower and get a snack. You were both covered in sweat, and your gym uniform was sticky. This was not a hot moment for you.

Denki somehow slipped his hand out of your grasp and bent down to grab something off the ground. You turned to him tiredly, wondering if he was gonna pick up a bug, debating which was worse: him shoving it in your face or him trying to eat it.

“Hey,” you sighed, tapping his shoulder, “can we keep going I really wanna-”

You were cut off by a small flower being shoved in your face. It was a little yellow flower, one that came from a weed that had sprung up in a crack in the sidewalk. He dropped it in your hands and bounced off, the idea of a snack finally permeating his thick skull and entering his brain.

“Alright”, you thought. “That’s it.”

You caught up to the bouncing fool, and when he paused to giggle “wheyyy”, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. All you could taste was his sweat, and you think you might have smashed your nose in a bit too hard. But that giggle of his erased the worries from your mind, and the two of you continued on.

That night, after a nice shower and plenty of food, you were working on homework. You had procrastinated on an assignment rather skillfully, and now you had to really pound this one out or you’d be screwed.

But your brain was a little busy at the moment. He was brain dead, so he surely wouldn’t remember the lil cheek smooch right? Right? God, you hoped so. How could you play that one off as just joking around? ‘Haha yeah you don't kiss your homies? Huh weird haha sorry bout that man’. That is not convincing in the least!

No matter how many times you looked at your mathematics book, your mind replayed his cute little giggle. The yellow flower was sitting on your desk.

You prayed that this wouldn’t hurt your friendship.

Your phone buzzed, waking you from your daydreams. Denki had texted you.

“Ayo you busy? I dont wanna do english”

You hadn’t seen him since you got back to the locker rooms, as you kept missing each other, and the fact that he didn’t seem to text any different assured you that he had no idea what happened.

“No come on over. I dont wanna do maths”

A few minutes later you heard him at your door. “Hello?” he called out in the highest possible falsetto.

“Hello,” you said in your most intimidating and deep voice.

He opened the door, peeking his head through with a weird smile on his face. You mimicked him, flashing him your worst smile. He closed the door behind him and flopped onto your bed.

“I think Mic Sensei wants me dead. I can’t memorize vocab to save my life and he gave us homophones. The quiz is in two days and I have decided to quit hero school and become a professional gamer.”

“With your aim? You’re better off staying in school, my guy.”

He wiped fake tears from his face, and suddenly noticed the flower of honor on your desk. A slight rush of heat went to the tips of his ears, thankfully hidden from your view. But you still noticed his pause.

He turned to face you, his look falling from your face to your hands. “So,” he said, a new hesitancy in his words, “are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

You looked at the elephant shaped eraser in your hand. “You got something to say about my eraser, you snob? This is a wonderful eraser and it doesn’t have those weird smudgy things like your nasty one does.”

Denki snorted. “No, I’m sure your eraser is amazing. I meant… you know, what happened earlier? After training?”

Your heart stopped. “Oh. Right. That.”

You looked away from him and nervously scratched at the back of your neck. You had almost convinced yourself that you were okay. But you had been a fool.

“Did you,” Denki quietly spoke up, “mean something by it?”

You avoided his gaze. “Would you be upset if I did?”

A slight smile graced his features. “No, of course not. I just want to know if you… ya know, felt the same way?”

Cue the buffering symbol on your forehead. “The same way,” you repeat to yourself, unwittingly aloud.

“Yeah. Do you, like, like me, or something?”

You turned to face him, your scratching hand falling to your lap. “Yeah. Yes, I do like you. In a more than friend way.”

A large, contagious grin split across his face. Your own mouth followed suit, beaming at the boy sitting with you. A giggle echoed through the room, gracing your ears.

“You really do like me? You’re such a nerd!” He fell back on your bed, poking your leg. Then he sat up again. “Why didn’t you tell me? I sat here thinking it was just me.”

“Why didn’t I tell you? Why didn’t you tell me?” you accused, poking his chest in revenge.

You two continued poking each other, accusing the other of being an idiot. Finally, Denki pulled your hands into his lap, and he leaned in towards you.

“Can we… kiss for real, now? Is that okay with you?”

You nodded, but neither of you moved. Then both of you cracked up realizing that neither of you knew what you were doing.

“Okay,” you said, “I am going to hold still, and you…”

“Mm.”

He leaned in slowly, and you closed your eyes. He softly pressed his slightly puckered lips against yours, and held them there for a few seconds before pulling away a few inches. You leaned forward again to meet his lips, and pressed a series of soft butterfly kisses to his lips. You both pulled away, trying to catch your breaths.

Your eyes opened again, and you could see that his face was bright red.

He wrenched his hands from yours and slapped them over his face. Another giggle left his lips, and you reached out to pull his hands away.

“Ai!”

A little zap shot through your hand when you touched him. He looked at you in worry.

“Oh shit, are you okay? I didn’t mean to zap you! Did it hurt? I-”

“Bro, shut up, it was just a little zap. I’m fine. It wasn’t like the damn playground slides that could kill someone.”

He calmed down and rubbed your hands apologetically.

“Wait,” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Are you still gonna call me bro? We kinda just kissed.”

“I don’t know. Can we kiss more?”

He crawled closer to you, moving the maths book out of the way. He froze a little, then placed his hand tentatively on your shoulders. You leaned into him and met his lips with yours.

You two spent almost half an hour kissing, soft little pecks, slowly gaining confidence in what you were doing. Slowly getting used to the feeling of the other. Slowly learning what the other liked.

From then on, any time you two were alone or far from the group, soft kisses were exchanged. His arm was looped through yours any time you walked together, and his ears were almost permanently tinted red when you were near.

Posted 2020 December 1

#kaminari x reader #kaminari x y/n #denki kaminari imagine #denki x reader #denki x y/n #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha #mha

[damn-stark]

The Trouble- Jesse Imagine Pt.2

Jesse x Fem!reader (Not my gif)

A/N- finally got this up!! I hope you all like it! Leave your thoughts?!

Warning- angst, swearing, violence, fluff, LOONNG CHAPTER.

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

———-

Why were you even coming to this party?

Oh right because Maria was forcing you to. Now usually their would’ve been a little bit of excitement when coming to events such as these, but lately it just hasn’t felt that way.

Their was usually no one to dance with because apparently people were scared to even talk to you when Tommy or Maria were close by—Which was all the time in dances such as this one.

Mostly all you would do was stand with Ellie in the far corner with a drink in hand. Something that was probably going to happen tonight too. Gosh how—

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” You say after feeling your body stupidly collide with someone else.

“No, it’s okay. It was my fault.”

Your eyes flutter away from the spilled drink to focus on the owner of the familiar voice....Jesse.

A smile appears on both of your faces,“I’m really sorry, Jesse. I wasn’t paying attention where I was going.” You apologize again as you let him down the small flight of stairs to later climb them yourself with intentions to go in the building.

“It’s nothing.” He quickly dismissed, attempting to turn away but before he could adding something else. “And I wouldn’t. It’s lame.”

“Comes from the guy that hates these things.” You chuckle.

Jesse shrugs, “I only go for one thing.” He lifts his now empty cup, making you cringe.

“Sorry, really, I didn’t mean to.”

“I told you it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

You look back at the buzzing party, hearing the music play from the inside and the commotion from the people, gaining some confidence to say the next thing. “I know you just walked out, but come inside with me, that way we can get you another drink. It would be a shame that you left without the one thing you came here for.” You grin.

Jesse looks at his empty cup and then at you for moment before he smiles and somehow agrees; “fine, only because you owe me.”

He walks up behind you and just as you were going to open the door, it flies open with Dina and Ellie rushing out.

“Everything okay?” Jesse questions the pair after noticing their off behavior.

Dina and Ellie go down the small flight of stairs and Dina simply dismisses his worry. “Not now Jesse.”

The first thing you noticed though wasn’t their weird behavior, but Ellie and Dina holding hands. 

You look to your best friend and quirk your eyebrow. Ellie simply answers with a shrug before she’s pulled away by Dina.

“That was weird.” Jesse commented.

“Agreed.” You nodded. The both of you continue inside, swiping drinks that were already on the bar, both quietly standing to the side and watching the people dance in the center.

“You sure Maria cleared you for patrol tomorrow?” Jesse queried as he turned to face you.

You nod in agreement, “always with much hesitance, but she did.”

“That’s good.” He comments, watching you admire the people dancing in the middle even if you were turned facing him. In that moment without you realizing finally admitting something to himself about you.

“Yeah, you would miss me too much if I didn’t go. Who would tell you all those funny jokes?” You laugh, taking a sip of your drink and sliding your eyes to focus on him.

Jesse nods with a smile on his lips, holding your gaze as he set his drink down. A song he recognized and liked playing finally making his eyes shift to the the middle before he quickly looked back to you. “Want to dance?”

You quirk one eyebrow and laugh nervously, “are you sure? I thought you hated these things.”

He shrugs all nonchalant, “least I could do for the girl that’s always making me laugh.”

You smile shyly at his comment, feeling the warmth on your cheeks turn hotter. “I would love to dance.” You take his hand and let him take you to the dance floor, carefully placing your hands on his shoulders and letting him place his hands on your waist. The warmth on your cheeks burning hotter.

As the music softly played and Jesse and you swayed along to the beat, you couldn’t help but grin. “You’ve got some moves on you, who knew?”

“You think Tommy would shoot me if he saw us dancing?” Jesse wondered nervously.

You chuckle and shake your head, “is that why no one asks me to dance? Because they’re scared of Tommy?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well you shouldn’t worry about him. The person you should worry about is Maria.” You both laugh, moments later calming down and holding each other’s gaze that created a thick tension. One he partially broke when he spoke.

“You know I don’t think I could go on patrol with anyone else.”

“Why is that?” You asked. 

Jesse holds onto you tighter, leaning in closer to respond, “because you’re the best. And I’m not only talking you being the best doctor in this town, but at patrolling, taking down those infected like it’s no ones business.” He smiles, “you’re always leaving me impressed.”

“Is that so?” You lean in closer to the point your noses are brushing against each other’s, your eyes like his flickering below to your lips.

“It is.”

“I think you’re great too.” You compliment, “more than great actually. I wouldn’t want to go with anyone else either.”

Jesse then follows by moving his hand to cup your cheek, not caring if anyone else was watching or caring if the couple he was nervous about earlier watched or happened to be around either. He just pulled you in for a kiss. One you don’t hesitate to return or deepen. A smile felt through said action.

And if neither you remembered where you were, then you both would have let the kiss continue without question—however you couldn’t do such a thing.

Instead you smiled up at him, pressing one last kiss on his soft lips before you leaned your head on his shoulder and continued dancing along to the music.

******

SEATTLE DAY 2

What was their to say about Seattle, beside it being wet, cold, bombed and WET.

How could anyone stay dry in this city? 

Who knew.

Jesse hops off the horse and walks into a part of a destroyed building while you wait...and....wait for him to come back, something he never does. So you too get off the horse and carefully walked to where Jesse had disappeared to—at first you were hesitant since he never said it was clear, or that it was fine for you to follow but you did anyway. Slowly.

“Jesse?” Before you could poke your head to check, said man walks out, somewhat surprised you being so close already.

Regardless he gestures you to follow, “come, I found something.”

This time without hesitation you follow after him, noticing the used campfire on the ground.

“Do you think it was one of them?” You ask.

He places his hands on his hips and continues to examine the campfire before answering. “Most likely.”

Seattle seemed like a big place, Jesse and you had barely arrived and have only seen a small percent of it. Downtown Seattle more specifically—you had seen a dead horse under a overpass, it was Tommy’s that much you knew. How long ago did it happen? That was up to debate. The only semi answer you did get was this clue now. But that too set you back. It could be Ellie’s or Tommy’s.

The only thing you were certain of was that you were tired.

“Maybe we should take a break here.” You suggest to your boyfriend. “Theirs wood.” You walk to pick up the log but shortly groan at the disappointment, “wet wood. Never mind.”

Jesse looks outside for a brief moment before glancing back to you, his eyes seeming to be concentrated on you for a minute. Looking deep in thought before he nodded. “Yeah you’re right. We can’t stay long though.”

“I know.” You shrugged your backpack off your shoulders before falling to the floor and letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Do you think we’ll find them soon?”

Jesse takes a seat next to you and shrugs, “I hope so. I keep seeing more and more WLF around.”

“I just hope they’re okay.” You muse before taking out a snack.

“All of them?” Jesse smirks.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder with your own; “Yes everyone. Dina might be your ex but she’s still from Jackson. She’s family.” You smirk and meet his gaze, “it’s like you want me to be jealous.”

Maybe you were a little. But you didn’t want to feed his ego.

“Of course not.” Jesse grins as he takes some of your food, shifting himself so he’s laying his head on your lap.

At the memory of something you needed to tell him your grin widens. “Do you want to hear a joke Ellie told me?”

“Okay, shoot.”

Already feeling like lauhing you try and calm down to ask him first, “What is the downside of eating a clock?”

Jesse stays quiet for a moment, his gaze focused on some part of the building as he thinks. “Uhh,” he glances up at you and shrugs, “I don’t know, what?”

“It’s time consuming.”

Jesse shifts up and looks at you with a smile. A laugh shared between the both of you a couple moments after. “That.” He begins after calming down, “that was funny, I got to give it to ya.”

You nod and unintentionally begin to play with his hair—a habit you now figured out you picked up in your down times while traveling over here. And the thing you liked was that he didn’t complain, or protest against it, he just let you. He let you do whatever hairstyle you could on his hair.

Like now for example. He let you carefully braid his hair without fussing or moving. In fact you think he might like it.

“This setting,” you sigh while taking a strand of his in between your fingers to then cross it with another, “makes me want to start a fire and play my guitar.”

“That would be nice.” Jesse agreed, “tell stories, laugh and drink with friends.”

You hum softly and repeat the same action as before except starting on his second braid; “maybe after we get back?”

“No.”

You stop and feel your eyebrows knot together, “no?”

“I just mean, I owe you that date first. A real first date.”

You smile and continue. “You dont. We already had our date.”

“But I want to make it special. My own way, not rushed. Or having to look out for infected.” He argued.

“It was still special.” You finish the braids and rest your chin on his shoulder to continue with his unnecessary argument. “It was rushed, yes, but it was still special. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Plus I don’t think we’re going to have a date in Idaho again.”

“I guess you’re right.”

You place a kiss on his cheek and your smile turns into a mischievous one. “Can we take a picture?”

Jesse looks back at you with a serious face, “no.”

“Come on,” You stifle your giggle as you saw how he looked with his hair picked up. “You look cute and your braids are going to fall out soon. Plus we took a picture in Idaho and Oregon, we need one for Washington too.” You pout your lip and bat your eyelashes. That action winning him over with much hesitance.

And before he could change his mind you take your Polaroid camera and take a picture of the both of you. “Love it.” You whisper once it fully develops.

“Can I see that?” Jesse asks about the camera.

You quirk your eyebrow and put the picture away, debating if letting him grab it was a right choice; “why?”

“I want to take a picture.”

Narrowing your gaze on him you hesitantly let him take it, watching him carefully, a shy smile soon tugging at the corner of your lips when he pointed the camera at you.

“See. Now,” he continues after snapping said picture, “I’ll have one of you,” he smiles as he places the picture inside a pocket of his jacket, “everywhere I go.”

Feeling the warmth on your cheeks you grin before leaning and pressing a soft kiss on his lips, an action he easily returns with more passion. Slowly you cup his cheeks to deepen said kiss, resting your knees on either side of him.

Before things could go any further, distant voices pulls you both away to quickly hide behind the wall—Jesse peeks his head out, letting you do the same seconds after, noticing right away the WLF patches on their jackets. Jesse noticing the same thing grabbed your backpack from the ground and handed to you so you could put it on. Him doing the same with his before taking your hand and tugging you through a hole that was out of sight from WLF soldiers.

“We left the horse.” You whisper as you look over your shoulder when you hear the soldiers find said animal.

“We can’t go back,” he responds in the same whisper whilst he picks up his pace, “we have to leave now that we’re undetected.”

“But—”

“We get caught and we won’t find Tommy, Ellie or Dina.” Jesse Interrupted. “We have to keep going.”

You nod, “okay.”

——

“Where are we?” Your eyes wonder the neighborhood, not only to keep watch for any WLF’S or infected, but route your exits since this man doesn’t want to admit he’s now lost.

“A neighborhood called Hillcrest.” He retorted.

You sighed deeply and watched him from the corner of your eye, “really? I thought we were in the city.”

“We are not lost if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You snorted, “never was.”

Jesse cocked his head to the side, flashing you a charming grin, “good.”

You rolled your eyes in a lighthearted manner, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips thereafter.

“I heard from some WLF soldiers we snuck by that Tommy passed—” the sound of gunshots cuts Jesse off immediately, not sparing another second to pull you down with him and hide behind a wooden fence.

“What the hell?!” You whispered sharply as you snatched your pistol from your holster.

“Trespassers, behind that fence!

“No time, let’s go.” Jesse quickly searched around, having no choice but to sneak in the empty house next to you. The both of you climbed over the broken window to get inside, your eyes frantically searching for a way out, but only finding that the stairs were the only unblocked area. It wasn’t a really smart choice, but it was one you had to take.

Jesse walked ahead of you, quietly checking each room was clear—which it surprisingly was.

Regardless you couldn’t risk yourselves, not in a place swarmed by WLF’S. “We need to find a way out.” You whispered, poking your head out the window to spot four WLF’S entering the same house. “Shit. We got four coming inside.”

Before Jesse could say his idea out loud, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs made him react quickly to pull you into a closet, pulling you against him as he pressed his back against the wall. One hand covering your mouth while he peeked through the closest’s panels.

The sound of approaching footsteps making your heart hammer in your chest and grab onto the arm Jesse had over your mouth with a firm grip, while with your other free hand gripping onto your pistols handle. Your eyes briefly shutting at the sight of the soldier stopping before the doors, and right when you thought you were going to pass out from the fear the soldier retreated away. A relieved sigh escaping your lips at the knowledge.

Jesse let go of you and slumped to the floor, his hands running through his hair before letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Too late to go back now.” You mumbled as you sat in front of him.

“Yeah it is.” Jesse let out an amused huff of air as he let his head rest on his hands.

“But, we’re here now. Maria is already going to kill me, so we better make this trip worthwhile.” You tried to ease the situation, knowing that this little break wasn’t going to last long and that you were going to have either face those soldiers or sneak by them sooner or later—later being the preferred choice.

“What do you think she’s going to do to us? Kick us out? Ground us from going on patrols ever again?” You continue.

Jesse looked up at you with a tired smile, “she loves you. You’re basically her kid, the most she’ll do to you is make you sleep outside. Me on the other hand, who knows what she’ll do.”

You shrug, “at least I’ll have Tommy to suffer with me. And I’ll make her go easy on you.“

“Right. Well good luck with that, because after she finds out we’re dating, and that I was the reason you left, I think my only punishment will be getting banished forever. That or being shot.”

You giggle and shake your head, “I won’t let her do either of those things. You’re stuck with me now.”

Jesse rolls his head to the side to hide his grin, answering with wit instead of a sweet comment, “well at least then we’ll be banished together.”

“Whatever.” You grin.

——

“I think we can jump from this window and sneak through all these yards.” Jesse muttered as he carefully opened the window, the sound of someone ordering a dog around making both yours and Jesse’s head to turn in that direction. “Shit, I guess we have no other option.”

Jesse’s head turned to you, pointing his head to the window, motioning you to go first.

“Okay.” You mouthed whilst climbing out, your head spinning at the sight of the distance of the window and the grass. “Well...okay. I’m going.” Without overthinking it, you pushed yourself off the window sill and landed on the ground quietly. Shortly after Jesse landed, a little more harsher than you had, but doing so without breaking anything...you hoped. “You good?”

Jesse nodded, not waiting to move to check the surroundings, a limp noticeable as he walked.

“Jesse, you’re—”

“I’m okay,” he interrupted, “we have to go.”

You hesitated for a moment but followed after him regardless, coming to a quick stop seconds after. The same dog as before coming out of the same house, his nose sniffing the area, second by second getting closer to Jesse. So in quick thinking you pulled out your Molotov and lit it, throwing it towards a empty car.

That explosion getting the dogs attention and making its owner and him both run to check the area, letting Jesse and you sneak past another house successfully. 

And here you thought that you were going to make it out of this neighborhood in one piece. 

A women walked around a corner and caught Jesse and you by surprise. “They’re right here, the trespassers! They’re—” the women’s warnings cut off with a shot through her throat, neither Jesse or you waiting for more to gather around or surprise you to run through another yard, you having to look back to shoot a man on the leg at the sound of him chasing after you.

More ran out of the other houses, having you throw your body to the side to avoid being caught, in that action falling behind Jesse. Said man not noticing right away, not until he heard one of the soldiers shout. “Get her!”

Now you were against killing people if it could be avoided, or if it didn’t call for it all, but their was occasions where you needed to. Where you needed to choose your own safety. Occasions like these—in a swift motion you shot the soldier that was straight ahead and then shot the other one behind you, turning to the side to shoot another one, but before you could even press the trigger, Jesse shot first.

A grateful smile, played on your lips, one that didn’t last before you both were on the run again, having to jump over another window, this time though, successfully landing and finding an empty house. One where no one saw you rush into, a place where you could catch your breath if even for a minute. Yes their might be more shots heard the in the distance, and yelling, but you both needed this. Even for a minute.

And trying to do just that, you hid between the shadows of the house to remain hidden, both hands on your knees as you tried to calm your breathing.

“Are you okay?” Jesse questioned.

You nodded and assured him, “yeah, you?”

“As good as—” the sound of someone quickly approaching made him cut his words off, his eyes focused on the window you just jumped out of, the sight of someone (as expected) jumped out of it too. At first Jesse was going to shoot them, but he holstered his gun and stepped forward to grab said person and pull..her back, a hand covering her mouth as trucks passed.

At first she struggled, but as soon as Jesse shushed her she seemed to calm down—you were nothing but confused, especially since your boyfriend had helped a stranger, but as soon as you walked forward, you saw who it was. Ellie.

Said girl turned around after Jesse let her go, her eyes focused on him for a moment before they shifted to you, a pure look of confusion flashing through her eyes.

“What are you two doing here?” She queried as she blinked repeatedly in disbelief.

“You think we let you do this on your own?” Jesse responded, causing a smile to spread on your lips.

“Y/N...Jesse.”

A smile that didn’t last long at all.

“Where’s Dina?”

No need to be jealous....No need.

“She’s safe,” Ellie assured, “she’s just sick.”

“What kind of sick?” You spoke up.

Ellie’s eyes landed on you to answer, “she’s fine.”

“Fan out! She went that way.”

Jesse and you quickly pulled out your guns at the sound of a WLF soldier.

“Christ, there’s a lot of them.” Jesse mused, before turning around to limp to find a way out.

“Hey, how hurt are you?” Ellie wondered.

“I’ll be okay.” Jesse dismissed, “your friends out there rushed us. No warning, no nothin.”

“Tell me you two didn’t come alone?”

Jesse and you shared a glance, letting you respond to your friends question, “give us shit about it later.”

Ellie scoffed, “you’re both fucking idiots, you know that, right?”

You looked over your shoulder as you continued forward, showing her a smug smile, “yeah.”

Stopping in front of a window, the three of you peeked your heads out and counted the people up front. “See that truck.” Jesse pointed.

“That’s your plan?”

“We need to get some distance,” Jesse continued. “You two ready?”

You nodded and heard Ellie answer, “yeah. Be smart about it.” Before the three of you quietly crouched in the tall grass to hide behind a fence wall, waiting for the right time to sneak attack the WLF soldiers that were in the way of the truck. It was a tight fit with three people in a tiny car, but somehow fit—needed to anyway.

The only damn problem was that the car wouldn’t start. “Give it some gas.” You urged Jesse.

“I am.”

“Give it some more.” Ellie added in a panic as they began to shoot at the truck—Having Ellie and you turn back and shoot those shooting at you. “Jesse get us the fuck out of here!”

“I’m trying!”

You continued shooting, your fear skyrocketing at the sound of the car not starting. And it seemed like it wasn’t, until it finally did! The only thing was at the same time the car started, someone snuck up on Jesse, their arm wrapping around his throat.

“Jesse!” You bellowed, this time not hesitating for a minute to shoot the person that had him in a choke hold.

“Jesus.” He breathed, before he went back to the stirring wheel, stepping on the grass to continue forward, while Ellie and you continued shooting at soldiers, to what then turned to shooting at a truck chasing after you. Both of you having to turn around as it sped forward in attempts to cut Jesse off and kill all of you—when Ellie managed to shoot the driver, the truck kept swerving your way, hitting you and pushing the truck to the side until it crashed into a lighting post.

Jesse kicked the windshield off, making it easier for Ellie and you to now shoot the damned infected coming your way. Somehow all of you managing to escape on the working car; something that wasn’t easy as all kinds of infected swarmed the car, one grabbing a hold of Ellie to try and pull her back and bite her.

Luckily it was something you managed to avoid by reaching over and stabbing the runner in the head. But in that action, in the distraction the door broke off and Jesse crashed into something in the back. The only good thing to happen was he managed to drive forward, in that crashing into a clicker—it took a couple shots but Ellie and you killed it...the bad thing was that you all crashed into a fence, and the car slid off a hill and crashed into a body of water.

The car was quickly submerging, causing all of you to hold your breath as you sunk down. Some luck finally coming to your side as you managed to swim out of the truck—before you did though, you grabbed Ellie’s hand and helped her out and up to the surface. All three of you gasping for air that lacked in your lungs.

“You guys okay?” Ellie question’s when you all finally made it on the ground.

You shot her a thumbs up, while Jesse responded, “never better.”

“I think we’re in the clear.” Ellie assured.

Pushing yourself off the ground, you extended your hand out to Jesse, “Come on.” He took it with no hesitation, offering you a small smile.

“Thanks.”

After Ellie noticed you both up and...somewhat ready to go moved forward. “This way.”

——

Why was your heart beating so fast? Maybe because you were about to see your boyfriends ex. One he still might have feelings for...well..that was a far stretch since he did ask you to be his girlfriend. But the insecurity still lingered. 

After all, they dated for a while.

And when Dina noticed him, the insecurity heightened. The way she hugged him made it worse.

“You okay?” She asked him.

“Nothing a little sleep won’t take care of.” He reassured her.

Dina then came to you, wrapping you in hug much like his. “Are you okay?”

You nodded and offered a feigned smile, “never better.”

You tried not to feel jealous, or insecure about them. Even after her questions, after watching how she looked at him, how she took care of him. Something you should’ve done—but it was hard not to feel that way...and it was hard for Ellie too. That much you saw.....odd.

After watching said girl leave, you followed after, following her to what seemed to be a radio room. She knew you were there, even if she had her back to you.

“Can I tell you something? Promise you won’t tell Jesse?”

You swallowed thickly, hesitating but answering nonetheless. “You can tell me anything, you know that. You’re my best friend.”

Ellie turned to you with a frown, her eyes on the ground before glancing at you, a brief pause before she spoke the unbelievable.

“Dina’s pregnant.”

.

.

.

Tagged- @protect-lev​ , @expecto-nox​

#the last of us part two #the last of us fanfiction #tlou jesse x reader #tlou jesse #jesse fanfiction #jesse imagines #jesse imagine #jesse tlou #tlou2 jesse x reader #tlou jesse fanfiction #tlou jesse imagines #tlou jesse imagine #jesse the last of us #the last of us jesse #the last of us imagines #the last of us imagine #ellie williams #the last of us ellie #tlou ellie #ellie tlou #dina #dina tlou #tlou dina #ellie

[stronghours]

CUSTOMER SERVICE

E T S Y

Darling Fallon    Sep 3, 2013

Sensational (sin-sational!). i write on behalf of myself (S) and my lover (m). we have been ripped off by bulk-produced molded hoods before and i can only say HAND CUT LATEX ONLY never look back!! worth the money and will eventually pay for itself. neck fit like loving glove and adds dynamic intensifier to breathplay. Lovely proprietor replied prompt when “m” had questions re: breathability (she added extra breathing hole at no extra cost). class acts all around (and not just in our dungeon!) will return for more but “m” needs a break first if u get the drift lol1!! thanks to lady j!

Purchased item: DeMarco FetishWear – Latex Chrysalis Hood (translucent…

3 Helpful

  myMister   Aug 24, 2013

this one writes on behalf and with permission of MISTER. this one quaked with bliss when package arrived. truly awful to behold in the wise hands of MISTER. this one’s neck is small and delicate For His Pleasure and all item adjustments were made to order and did not affect shipping time. if this one could be so efficient For His Pleasure this one would be in heaven on earth. instead, this one is less than a hole. item truly enhanced <O sensation. without a doubt will be used over and over in this household for due punishments of this very worthless one. discrete pgk’ing. thanks to designer J for deepening this one’s service to MISTER.

(NOTE FROM MISTER – WILL PROPRIETER PLEASE PRIVATELY EMAIL TO DISCLOSE IF YOU ARE MALE/FEMALE/OTHER SO “myMister” (this one) WILL BE ABLE TO PROPERLY ADDRESS YOU IN ACCORDANCE WITH ITS FORMAL ROLE)

Purchased item: DeMarco FetishWear – Throttle Collar w/ attached Gas…

1 Helpful

  JulieJuice   August 3, 2013

LOL rip-off!!! cant believe all u ppl sucking this guys dick. says everywhere in product descript. (and you guys reviews!!) that custom sizing is no additl. cost but mine cost more!! only small alteration to titty holes cause of my cleave situation. bullshit. not buying from him again.

Response from J

Hi again Julie. If you check our many enlightening inbox conversations from 7/5-7/16 you will be reminded the additional cost was due to your request of more ring hinge insertions as the standard amount in pattern block “was not bling enough”. Cleavage was irrelevant. Sizing related alterations are always no added cost. Custom alterations requiring additional materials/effort and adjusted pricing will always be discussed and approved on client end before any exchange of payment.

Purchased item: DeMarco FetishWear – Hexagon Restrictor Harness…

HELPFUL?

  HannahCakes!    Jun 1, 2013

Hey Whats Up I’m Caleb (obviously don’t have an etsy) and using my lady’s account. She got the catsuit for my birthday and she looked so sexy like J-Lo or someone. Didn’t want her doin the latex stuff because I thought shed have to shave off all her pubes and personally i like that kind of thing a lot but no harm done. Anyway she was super sexy and the suit thing looked good and stayed together even when we started rockin. To other full bush guys out there if youre girl wants to wear the latex stuff SHE CAN KEEP HER BUSH she just has to use lube to oil up the bush that she has.

Purchased item: DeMarco FetishWear – Domina Catsuit w/ Pussycat Zipper (red…

7 Helpful

  HannahCakes!   3 months ago   Friend   Ignore

Caleb Review

Hi J,

Saw my boyfriend’s 6/1 review and I was like uh ohhh. I asked him to leave one because he went gaga over the catsuit, but I wasn’t expecting all the bush stuff. If you don’t want to be associated with that and want to delete, that’s ok on my end. A little embarrassing! – Hannah!

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    3 months ago    Friend    Ignore

Hi Hannah. Please don’t worry about it, any positive review is welcome. His feedback has apparently hit a chord with some specific hesitations and concerns buyers have been experiencing but not confiding with me, so I plan on keeping it up for the time being. Enjoy your garment.

  JoeyoftheHerd    3 months ago   Friend   Ignore

Moo-cow snout muzzle thing – (idea i had)

Hi. Is this idea good

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    3 months ago    Friend   Ignore

Hi Joey. Are you interested in a custom cow muzzle/mask, like the pup play masks on my page or are you just brainstorming for personal reasons?

Reply from JoeyoftheHerd    3 months ago    Friend    Ignore

idk it’s just an idea i had

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    3 months ago    Friend    Ignore

It’s a cool idea

Reply from JoeyoftheHerd    3 months ago    Friend    Ignore

Thanks man i thought so 2

1234Brett10093456    3 months ago   Friend   Ignore

I REMEMBER YOU FROM RAWHIDE

JULES yes I know who you are and I know your name are you scared yet?? I remember when you used to hang with Roscoe out at Rawhide because Roscoe pretended to hire you because he secretly wanted to fuck and suck you till you cried and I saw all that. I have brown flippy hair, blue eyes and am tall/cut versatile but lean TOP. I know you faked being gay. You heard of bi-now-gay-later but have you heard of gay-then-straight-betrayer (you)? That is fucked up that you still sell stuff but pretend to be a gay guy because that makes your stuff sell better because the gay guys want to fuck you. I know you are faking because my muscle bud Tomas (latino) saw you making out with a ginger chick at the wet bar in Entrance last week. He said it was probably a joke but I know it wasn’t because he said he saw tongue. I wont let you be a breeder without a fight. I am willing to tell EVERYBODY YOURE SECRET. But I wont if you prove to me YOU CAN STILL BE GAY. Im attaching a pic of my cock so you know im not lying and can follow through. I will only believe YOU ARE GAY if we can see each other face/face (i can host only on fri- I have two roommates) and our cocks have to touch and you have to stay hard for at least five minutes while I suck and jack your cock and tongue your balls (shave or dont i will leave that up to you). condoms ok but if you want to be a breeder so bad maybe I will just breed your ass but if youre actually a gay guy you’ll like it and cum thick ropes as I fuck your dirty little slut hole and youll tell me youre a hole while I fuck it with the shiny precum head of my cut fucking cock (7inches erect). you will smell my hole and BECOME GAY again IT WILL HAPPEN  - Brett Costino

  TheSteelyDanMan   2 months ago   Friend   Ignore

Latex & Breastfeeding Concerns

Good morning, J I hope you are well. Returning customer, here. My kajira/wife and I are splinter Gor lifestylers (NOT KAOTIANS) [link] but are currently isolated due to our deviation from standard kajira beautification ideals and the arrival of our first child (girl - Gemma) two months ago. My wife’s submission has usually been expressed fashion-wise in various strict latex outfits, a few of which you have kindly provided us over the past couple of years. Naturally, the arrival of a mini-me results in some changes! My wife, insecure after birth, wants to return to strict full-coverage latex, but this desire is at odds with her physical situation of actively nursing Gemma and we both have worries. Does the constriction of latex effect or otherwise harm milk production, or could secondhand latex exposure harm our baby? I imagine you have catered to many lifestyle situations where this might be relevant so I thought I would ask. Thanks very much. LEO

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    2 months ago    Friend    Ignore

Hi Leo. While I have catered to many lifestyles, I’m afraid I must exercise discretion in this situation, as it would be on par with giving medical advice. I will say any allergy is a possibility and one should exercise undue care with a very young infant, not just in matters of latex. I highly encourage you and your wife to discuss this with her doctor as frankly as possible. In the long run it might be worth reevaluating aspects of your wife’s submission and temporarily making do with latex pieces that do not restrict the breasts, while nursing is a part of her daily reality (I’m sure I don’t have to tell you examples are available on my page). Best of luck and congratulations on the new addition to your family.

  NoraBarnacle    2 months ago   Friend   Ignore

A sincere offer…

Several months ago, I bought a pair of latex gauntlet gloves from your shop. Since then, astonishing changes have come over me. I used to be high-powered, highly controlled, a formidable woman (natural ash blond, green eyes, 45”-40”-44”) I was determined to keep these feelings to myself, but I can no longer resist, as I wholeheartedly believe your Dominating spirit, imbued in the gauntlets, is leading me forcefully but masterfully into your care. If it pleases you, know I have not touched my aching slit for one month total as I am uncertain whether you desire me to feel pleasure that is not approved by you. There are no images of you on your site, but I have drawn an accurate picture of you in my mind and I know you are the Man that I never knew I was waiting for, the Man who will lead me, the Man who will hold my neck and strike my forehead to his knee in his insistence that I allow myself to be led. When I wear the gauntlets, they are your own gallant hands restricting my weak bones. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I do not desire to resist. Please message back so I can properly present my acquiescence, body and soul, unto you. I squat disgracefully on my plump thighs, full of whorish tremor that makes me unworthy, but still I desire. I will service your home with my ardent hands and service your thick and striving cock with my wet tongue. Respond to this small soul. I submit to your gallant wisdom – A Secret Admirer

  RicoMetals   1 month ago   Friend   Ignore

Redhead Modle in Pic for Serve Her Serrated Corselette

Hey man-to-man who is she. I love redheads. Does she modle for other people/would she modle for my pieces? there’s no head in the pick – what’s her nose situation? we could all do collab and I think it would be hot. Let me kno - RICO

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    1 month ago    Friend    Ignore

Hi Rico. I have not blocked you (yet) because said model wanted me to reply to you first and inform you, she’s already an established performer in her own right and does not want to model for a guy who “thinks I need some sissy seamstress to pimp me out to shitty welders online”. As I only have basic welding experience, I can offer no further comment or defense on your behalf.

  DerryBerry454   1 month ago   Friend   Ignore

Inquiry re: standard leather sleep-sack dimensions

Hello Miss J, quick question:

I will buy this item no hesitation no delay if you tell me right now about your vagina. Questions I prioritize:

1.     Color labia (outer)

2.     Color labia (inner – aroused)

3.     Clit length in centimeters or whatever measurement is most flattering to you

4.     Range of clit engorgement

5.     Depth of vaginal canal (I will allow ballpark figure as I know not everyone has graded speculums lying around)

6.     Percentage of clit orgasms v. vaginal orgasms – bonus points if you describe uterine orgasm, if that is your experience (no pressure to answer last part, as I understand it is not necessarily vagina-adjacent)

7.     Are you hairy? What color?

8.     When you wash your vagina do you douche or do you use fingers to rub through labia folds and that is it?

9.     Color of menstrual blood

10.  If you wear panties, do you find the crotch of your panties degrades due to PH of your vaginal discharge? (give me the qualities and I will calculate this for you)

While a picture of your vagina is welcome (and will only be for my private use) I really do like gathering these stats (I’m kind of a nerd) and would appreciate as much openness on your behalf as possible and you will benefit too because I’ll give you money for your lovely product. Talk to you soon! 😊

  B O A R D

[RUBBERVALLEY FIENDS THREAD 3/3 2006-PRESENT] TOPICS: 850 POSTS: 10,356

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): Hey people, we’ve reached the end of the summer and you know what that means – Ivan himself of the halls of Rubber Valley presents inaugural post of their annual sweeps week filming extravaganza – first photoset already up and we’ve got the goddamn brilliant LYDIA SUCKS sons! The greatest bitch on the face of the planet almost psyched us out but she’s here she’s low and she’s ready to blow. Vid upload will probably take till tomorrow to render but we’ve got some great pic galleries already. Ivan really spoiling us pigs lmfao. Seeing lots of setup and dress-up and behind scenes stuff for yall candid pervs. We’ve got full body latex and face coverage hoods and I see a breathing tube and the barn inversion setup. Possible inverted ceiling fuck? The boys can dream. Links to download pics results in PERMABAN – only official links to Rubber Valley site allowed, don’t know how often I have to say it. You want to pass ripped screenshots you do that through email *casts pearls before swine*

GOBgobGOB: no pic of lyds upside down yet ☹

LordJim: Not interested until I see Ivan haul out the FuckRacers from two years ago – wonder why he doesn’t bring those around more often? Great view stats on current vids and who doesn’t like a fat ass getting auto-fucked while she steers the go-cart supine?

SUCKPUNTER: lmfao all views are you bro

GOBgobGOB: D I R E C T H I T

SUCKPUNTER: hey lordjim where’d you learn the word supine

LordJim: Yeah “laugh out loud” very funny guys.

SUCKPUNTER: did you learn it at college

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): Lydia looks gr8 folks. Queen pristine and ready to cream. SUCKPUNTER – chill out because I’ve got my eye on you. Don’t take the bait Jim. You’re like thirty.

SUCKPUNTER: at least I don’t get off on bitches doing the pinewood derby

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: LYDIA!

GOBgobGOB: LYDIA!!!

McLovin: LYDIA LYDIA LYDIA

TheWorldofMartinAmis: Goddess. Wish she’d get her boobs done though.

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: same! I’ve been waiting for years for her to get into xtreme body mod. Right up her alley. If she’s at EXXXOTICA EXPO next year I’m going to try to get her meet and greet and ask. I know tattoo guys who’d pay HER to give her first tat.

McLovin: Lydia wouldn’t go. She’s like indie transgressive.

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): nice to see you again lockSTOCK. I see your POV but Lydia has several interviews where she says most of her viewers see her bod as a clean palate in the art of pain – as in, wounds have to go away in order for us to appreciate a fresh ruining ; ) tats and huge implants are a little tougher to work around. Anyway in my mind you can fix bad tits but you can’t fix bad attitude

ThatOneFootGuy: id suck her feet

McLovin: woah fuck 4th latex pic in dressing series with her mouth open and her eyes shut – who the lube guy with his arm right down her front?

SUCKPUNTER: lol hand clear to her pussy and hes not even hard faggot

McLovin: scope the ginger amazon in the background with camera – new girl? Don’t recognize. Didn’t know Ivan was bringing new people around this year’s sweeps.

LordJim: I wondered too when I saw. I’m sure DungeonMaster mod understands if I copy/paste following from Ivan (no pics, text w/actress info):

Newcomers are always welcome in RUBBER VALLEY (especially if they’re lovely, and especially if they’re ladies!) and this old goat is pleased to welcome DOMME LUX, our friendly neighbor down south in that little town called Chicago. Mysterious as she is alluring, you’ll see her shining light sampling tidbits of delight off our Valley Girls throughout the uploads this month (or even taking a crack at a couple!) We’re just getting to know her, but I have a feeling she’s a generous gal at heart as she kindly offered us the services of her Personal Valet, Jules DeMarco, who himself spoiled us all year with devious latex devices for our steadfast daring dollies after the unfortunate 2012 passing of our beloved torture designer Merrick Marvel (memoriam post 03/04/2012). Check out Jules’s Half-Bag Breast Mummifier in scheduled post 7/22 (Heather Bunny in the inverted Wench Wrench) the diabolical Arachnae-Hood (Lacey Jane, spinning in our trusty Landscape(her) Rolling Pin 7/16) and the Double-Fuck Full Body Boa Binder with eerie inflatable bubble hood (Lydia Sucks, finale post 7/31, don’t miss it, SUBSCRIBE). I must confess, we took advantage - the poor fella ran himself ragged helping us with film prep all week. So as an apology we let him get up close and personal with Rubber Valley’s reigning heroine LYDIA SUCKS fitting her in a custom four-limb black latex catsuit with half-face hood, made especially for her brave beautiful bod. He takes a good long time greasing her up before Ivan and Barry get her hoisted and joisted and in her best bitch-bat position among the rafters of the exalted Rubber Valley barn, where we leave her to squirm in terror! (but let’s get real – what scares Lydia? We’re wracking our brains!) Uh-oh, is Domme Lux looking jealous in the background? Is she plotting a little comeuppance for our Lovely Lady Lydia? Only one way to find out – SUBSCRIBE!

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): Np lordjim, if you hadn’t posted I was going to. Looks like we’ve got fresh meat in the valley.

TheWorldofMartinAmis: very pretty girl, but always bummed when a new one turns out to be top. Call me old fashioned, I come to the Valley for slaves.

SUCKPUNTER: firecrotch

GOBgobGOB: brb too busy crankin it. milky gingerbread titties come to daddy

McLovin: @TheWorldofMartinAmis, Ivan always has at least one femdom around. Room for everybody in the valley

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: holy shit I know that guy.

SUCKPUNTER: lmfao faggots know faggots

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: no for real. His real name is Jules Marinelli. I worked with him one summer lifeguarding beaches for the park’s district. Our boss found his website where he sells his sex stuff, and it was this whole big thing. Found the kink club Entrance through that (check it out if you’re in my hood ever – huge, clean, not too much gay shit, great ladies of all stripes hanging around, but limits on drinking if you’re trying to access certain levels). He’s bi. He’s either secretly Domme Lux’s slave or Domme Lux is his slave and it’s mega on the DL because it’d hurt her career if it got out she could ‘verse. There’s all this gossip.

SUCKPUNTER: bi guys r fags

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): SUCKPUNTER – that’s strike one. lockstock – not deleting your post because from what I can see JDM doesn’t/isn’t acting in explicit scenes, but let’s cool it with doxxing info. Looks like he’s had an experience with that before, and as a small business owner myself, I know how it can suck. We aren’t gossiping high school girls. Settle back and enjoy what Ivan gives us.

GOBgobGOB: *sees dudes in the chat and stops jacking off*

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: NP mod, feel free to delete it later before it causes problems.

TheWorldofMartinAmis: going back to previous discussion – don’t think a breast job automatically constitutes body modification

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): think about it martinamis, it’s a slippery slope – you want to see some swollen battered fish get destroyed, or a fresh natural girl get destroyed?

SUCKPUNTER: i am not a faggot and a whore’s a whore and im here to see whores fucking destroyed

GOBgobGOB: *tony soprano voice* she was a HOOOOER

SUCKPUNTER: fag or cunt all whores get fucked

LordJim: Mod, step up. This isn’t going to get better. With all due respect

SUCKPUNTER: fag or cunt ALL WHORES GET FUCKED

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): yeah, already done. That should be the last of him. Don’t know why I expected that situation to turn out differently.

  FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

Subject: Debrief – valley week

Jules,

As discussed, attached is current info for my old webmaster service from when I had to run my own fansite. Decent price and decent vendor system. Can only be an improvement on what you have now. That is not an insult, but I know it sounds like one. Stay with me.

[link] [link] [link]

And above, the top three most trafficked boards I’ve found following my own career and the rubber valley gang. We’ve caused quite a stir already and its only July 15th. I wouldn’t count on this causing an uptick in your business, but I think you know that. The standard gentleman at home spending twenty bucks a month for guaranteed links to a woman being fucked inside out while wearing a sensory deprivation hood simply doesn’t translate him to spending 100-200 dollars, contacting a seller, taking measurements, and going through the effort to order he and his special girly the hood itself. But I know you believe you’ve chosen your life the same way I believe I’ve chosen my life and won’t whine. I will say, if your ego is bruised, that your clothes are wonderful. They feel maybe half like death. I’ll wear them again and again.

On a funnier note: I have accounts myself on all the above message boards and post semi-regularly. It might amuse you to do the same thing, but you need to be careful regarding your identity. Feedback from viewers is never relevant, but it needs to be pure (don’t ask me why – my brains are fucked out). I won’t tell you who I am, and you won’t tell me who you are. Maybe we’ll find each other.

I wouldn’t tell your Cathy, since some sensitive (if inaccurate) information is flying around. Your instinct towards privacy, while cute and old fashioned, is an apt instinct. Looks like the good people of Chicago can’t keep their fucking mouths shut. Will you be able to find a straight job if your work now goes up like a dead dog’s gut? Don’t despair. Your nice long cock dropped so well down my throat while your Cathy beat my clit with the edge of your belt (nice touch – whose idea was that?) so while you might not get another chance to perch in a lifeguard’s throne, you might very well have a future in film. You’re vigorous, discrete, disciplined, clean, and a cutie-pie. Have your Cathy make some films of you alone or you two together. It’ll excite her, so you have no choice but to be excited yourself. You’re excited reading this. You believe you chose this.

Anyway – Cathy! Don’t be insulted on her behalf. I loved playing with you both. She’s kind and a lot of fun, which are virtues I still let myself appreciate in others. Let her know I appreciate how she let me use you. She’s a good girl and has a good future in store, especially with her personal valet running her life. Pick her outfits, pick her makeup, pick her clients, pick her laundry soap – is it already like that? I want to be buried alive, but you want to be buried in chores. Please dream big, Jules.

Rubber valley is where I have the most fun out of all the shoots I have in a year, but I really was lucky that you two showed up. Poor old Merrick Marvel (not even that old – colon cancer). But out with him and in with you. I enjoyed our river talk and I felt very safe in the car with you at the wheel, though I know I tormented you a little (but I’m pretty sure Cathy helped you out later with that – will you write back to me what she did to you, and if she let you come?) At one point you were with Ivan in the garage, and I tried to have a little talk with her about oblivion, but she either understood my point and got scared, or simply didn’t understand. It’s unfortunate, kind of soul-sucking, how our dominant “loved ones” transform into necessary evils. Adjust the tube. Grasp the handle. Move the thigh. Use the vocal cord to form the order. But what do they know? I never knew how to explain.

I’ve attached some personal pictures of me. I like knowing that you have them. I won’t contact you again except under strict business purposes, so let me sum up. Serve Cathy well. Don’t let her get bullied. Flourish creatively. Keep that belt. Fuck as often as your body commands you to fuck (if I suspect that sometimes your body is Cathy’s body by proxy, then this number will double, perhaps triple, but the choice is out of your hands because she owns your cock). You have a lot of growing up to do. Don’t despair. More to come.

We won’t see each other soon, but we’ll see each other again. Ciao! 

I expect improvements.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

Lydia S

#SAFEWORLD #unto itself but also sneak peek at rubber valley sequence #inspired solely by all the fetishwear providers on etsy that exist #Jules being relentlessly sexually harassed on the internet: this is normal and doesn't bother me. guess im built different

[hisakata-resutomoshibi]

Not to bother you, but I've been wondering what would happen next in that Inner Demon! Kuro au. It randomly popped into my head and now im curious lol. I'm not asking for another chapter if you dont want to write it, I just wanna know what u think would happen next! Your ideas are amazing and I love hearing from you! 🧡

Ah, you’re so sweet! Don’t take this too seriously as I haven’t planned any of it and barely edited it LOL but here you go my dear~

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

"Alright, and what am I supposed to make of that?"

It was hours later, or perhaps just minutes, and Mahiru found himself staring up at the slightly damp, bug riddled ceiling of the cave. He seemed to have fallen to the ground after Kuro had released his grip; maybe he had taken too much blood? The thought froze his muscles in visceral terror and his mind in a bid to remain sane immediately rejected the idea. Either way, he did distinctly remember hearing Kuro say that he belonged to Mahiru now, or something to that effect, and really, who wanted to have a psycho like this?

"What does what means?"

 Kuro's eyes popped in to view over Mahiru's face and he flinched back, bashing his head further on the cold stone. Frowning in irritation, at the pain in his skull, the situation in general, he sighed. "What do you mean you're mine?"

 The bright red that had flooded through Kuro's irises hadn't faded, in fact it seemed to have almost solidified against the former blue, looking like a small pool of swirling metallic paint splashed across the sky. As he watched, entranced, Kuro grinned.

 "Pretty, right?" He blinked slowly, demonstratively. "The red is a nice touch, a very easy way to identify contracts."

 "Contracts?" Mahiru repeated curiously. "What- no, I mean, how did your eyes change color?"

 "This is your blood, Mahiru." Kuro said matter-of-factly. "I didn't expect it to be so beautiful, to be honest. Most blood mixes in like mud. Such a disappointing shade of brown. But this!" Kuro paused, fluttering a hand in front of his face.

"This is gorgeous. We must be compatible."

 "Compatible..." Mahiru echoed, laughing weakly. "Great."

 "You wanted to go home. I'll take you there."

 "Hold on just a second." He pushed out a hand into the scant air between them and Kuro obligingly sat back, his head cocked in innocent puzzlement. "How do you know where I live?"

 "I know everything that is YOU, now."

 "Again, what exactly does that mean?"

 Kuro smiled wickedly, leaning forward suddenly, a blur of vitality in the dank air of the cave. "Take it literally. Anything that means something to you, makes up a part of your identity, it's mine now. And in exchange-" He gestured down at himself, "you get this, anything you could possibly want."

 Startled into silence, Mahiru felt his tongue form the sardonic comment before he could think better of it. "You're quite confident." As soon as the words were out he regretted them, praying that the offense they caused wouldn't be enough to get him ripped into little pieces, but Kuro only laughed, lighter and softer than anything Mahiru had heard before.

 "Of course I'm confident. Do you still not know who I am, Mahiru?" His lips curled up mischievously and he ran a graceful, delicate finger, along Mahiru's jaw. "You're a bit thick, aren't you? Ah well, no matter! You're mine as well now, no turning back." Before Mahiru had the chance to feel offended, he continued. "I knew you were special the second I saw you."

 The conversation was running in circles and it was only a matter of time before Mahiru got motion sickness trying to follow it, so, trying to decide the simplest course of action, he chose, simply, to ignore it. Obviously Kuro was not who he had originally thought, the eyes, the horns, the preternatural speed, no, there was no way to fake that, he was something else entirely, but the question was, what? Mahiru glanced over to find Kuro staring at him raptly and he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped. "Where am I supposed to hide you?"

"Is this just something that people like you can do?" Mahiru asked flatly, staring down at the tiny kitten at his feet. It turned it's wide, luminescent eyes (red like his blood, he thought) up to him and blinked. "I don't know what that means."

 "You really are a demanding little one." Kuro muttered as he phased back into existence, occupying the space the cat had previously. "Of course not all of us can, it is something unique to I and a few others." He paused, seeming to think carefully before speaking. "Eight total."

 There are seven others that can turn into animals?"

 Kuro nodded slowly, almost regretfully. "Yes. Seven. But you don't need to worry about them."

 "I'm not particularly worried." Mahiru sighed. "More like amazed." He watched for a moment as Kuro crept around his room, so cat like in his movements Mahiru almost laughed, and began to poke at several of the books piled haphazardly on his desk. "I do have a question."

 As though he had been in anticipation, Kuro spun on his heel, books and exploration forgotten and a lopsided smile in place. "Yes?"

 "Well, er-" Mahiru hesitated, biting his lip. "Not to be offensive or anything but, you're acting very... different now."

 "Oh?"

 "Uh, yeah..."

 "How so?"

 "Well." Mahiru glanced over, quickly looking away again when he met Kuro's amused gaze. "Well, to be blunt, you're not acting like a total nut job anymore."

 "A nut job." Kuro paused, digesting the phrase for a moment. "I do not know that one either." Four rapid steps had him directly in front of Mahiru again and he grinned. "There's so much you must tell me! But before that, what is the question?"

 "Why?" Mahiu blurted. "Why are you suddenly..." He trailed off and, at a loss for definition, gestured vaguely at Kuro. "Like this?"

 Shrugging casually, Kuro raised a brow. "One would act differently after becoming someone else, no?"

 Putting a finger to his brow in fatigued annoyance, Mahiru groaned. "No w I just know you're fucking with me."

 "Not yet, I assure you." Kuro said brightly, his grin widening impossibly when Mahiru blanched. "What can I say to make you understand?" He crossed his arms, gaze traveling lazily around the room. When his eyes lit upon the chair near the door and he paused. "I took from you and so you must take from me." He glanced over, his eyes shining through the shifting blacks and whites of his hair. "Give and take, tit for tat, you are a part of me and so I must honor that change. Act according to the new blood."

 Mahiru frowned, attempting to construct something realistic or even vaguely understandable from what Kuro had just said. "So, you're different because of me?"

 "Precisely. Perhaps if you were less stubborn I would not be quite so composed?" Kuro laughed, just a shadow of the maniacal, wild abandon from previously and shrugged. "It's an interesting change." He raised his eyes to the ceiling, as though looking up into the sky. "Not unwelcome. Certainly different from what I am used to."

 "What you're used to?" Mahiru prompted him after a moment.

 "Things at the court can be unbalanced." Kuro said slowly. "And so for the most part we are... unpredictable."

 Forgoing asking who exactly "we" was because he was fairly certain he didn't want to know anyway, Mahiru frowned darkly, remembering the shattered stalls and engulfing flames he had so barely escaped earlier."You seemed like a psycho."

 Kuro laughed happily. "That sounds like a compliment!"

 "It's not." Mahiru said flatly. "Psycho is bad." He too glanced around the small room quickly, taking in the limited space and lack of guest furniture. "So now what? I accept that you are some kind of- of- mythical creature. But I do not accept that I am stuck with you."

 "Whether you accept or not is of no consequence." Kuro sang, reaching out and plucking a sweater from where it lay draped over the foot of the bed. "We have a contract." He began to twist it back and forth, inspecting it from every angle, eyes wide in puzzlement.

 "About that. I didn't agree to any contract. So I don't really think it's legally binding." Mahiru crossed his arms, attempting his best impersonation of authority.

 Kuro shrugged, pulling the sweater over his head, horns turning to a bright translucent fog for a moment to allow for the collar to pass over them, and smiled, something quick and genuine, and Mahiru felt his heart skip a beat. "Unfortunate for you then that the fae do not care for legality."

It was an hour later, Mahiru standing in front of the cupboard contemplating it's bare shelving, that he finally admitted to himself that he was not the best at entertaining visitors. Not even a spare loaf of bread. He slammed the door shut in frustration and glanced into the living room, finding Kuri still curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. Mahiru had turned it on in desperation about forty minutes ago and Kuro had not moved since. It was currently airing some strange episodic gum commercial but judging by Kuro's expression you would have thought it was a documentary of the end of the world.

 "How do they do this?" Kuro asked suddenly and Mahiru turned fully, watching as he pointed to the screen upon which was a helicopter view of the city.

 "Do what?"

 "Record this? Is that what you called it? It's so detailed!"

 Mahiru wandered closer, unable to ignore the impulse and peered over Kuro's shoulder. "You said you were some magical being but you've never seen a TV? Where have you been all this time?"

 "In the woods, mostly." Kuro answered casually. "It seems I should have ventured farther into town sooner!"

 Briefly imagining the utter devastation Kuro would have wrought unchecked had he indeed entered the heart of the town Mahiru held back a shiver and shook his head. "No. No way. You are way too much trouble."

 "It is not I that wishes for such destruction." Kuro said, flicking his sharp gaze up to Mahiru. "I only embody what you desire."

 "You keep saying that." Mahiru muttered, looking away in discomfort. "Listen. Do you need food? Or..." He trailed off in embarrassment, completely gobsmacked that the next words were about to leave his mouth. "Or are you actually a vampire?"

 "Vampire." Kuro rolled the word around for a moment and shrugged. "Call me what you will. You humans have always had such curious need to name everything. Regardless, it will not change that I simply am."

 Mahiru sighed. He really was getting so tired of all this mystical bullshit. "So then, did you want to get dinner?"

 Kuro froze, his shoulders going taut beneath the blanket he had huddled up in. "Dinner?" His eyes were darting from side to side as though in worry, though there was nothing but an innocuous soap opera preview on.

 "Yeah? You know, we go somewhere and get food? I honestly hate the idea of bringing you in public, but I don't have anything here." Mahiru admitted, frowning. "You have to behave."

 "Ah, I see." Kuro turned, fixing Mahiru with a strange look. "You need to eat then?"

 "I take it, based on this conversation that you don't actually require food." Mahiru muttered sarcastically. "But yes, I'm hungry."

 "Very well. Let's go." Kuro stood in one quick move, the blanket falling from his shoulders and to the couch and Mahiru flinched back a step, having completely forgotten just how tall Kuro really was. At his jerking retreat, Kuro raised a brow and a mocking smile flew across his face. "Do you truly find me so frightening?"

 An immediate affirmation withered on Mahiru's tongue as he studied Kuro's expression. It was neutral and empty but somewhere, deep beneath the veneer of indifference, he thought he could see a wiggling of disappointment. He didn't know what possessed him to do what he did, or even why he would care to do so in the first place but he found himself snorting and reaching out to wrap his hand around Kuro's wrist, tugging him roughly around the back of the couch and towards the kitchen. "Of course not, idiot. What's scary about you?"

#servamp #asks #blackcat!Kuro #my writing #should I add the tag #fae!Kuro #? #ever since Kat said I can't get it out of my head #as evidenced here LOL #Mahiru Shirota #hmmm

[nitr0glycer1ne]

Ducktober/Duckvember Day 12 - Fanfic scene

Hi! Temporarily skipping Day 11 because I feel more like writing than drawing atm, and I'm drawing a comic for Day 11 (so far I've drawn 1 page out of 3 woo) I interpreted the prompt literally, as you'll see :) I hope you'll enjoy! It was inspired by one of my favorite moments from "Friendship Hates Magic!" 

------

Darkwing was tied on the torture chamber's table, metallic restrains making sure the slightest movement was impossible. No matter how hard the vigilante tried to break free, the restrains wouldn't budge, the cold metal digging further and further into his feathers.

"Hahaha, Darkwing Duck!" an evil voice boomed in the room. Darkwing tried to see where it was coming from, but the room was plunged in darkness, and he could only faintly make out a silhouette. "End of the line!" The mysterious person made his way towards our hero, who gasped in surprise. He had thought his worst enemy was dead, but had apparently been wrong, for Evil Darkwing Duck was now standing in front of him. "Evil Darkwing Duck!" Darkwing Duck spat, not losing his cool even though he was in such a dire situation. "I should have known it was you. This case had your foul smell all over it!" "Ohoho, then it looks like I outsmarted you, dear brother!" "You're no relative of mine!" "Hahaha, why won't you admit the truth, my dear twin?" Darkwing Duck struggled once more against his bonds, the brave hero fighting against the immovable restraints with all his might. Meanwhile, Evil Darkwing Duck grabbed a chainsaw. It seemed that everything was lost, but then! "Stop right there, villain!" Someone jumped through the window, facing Evil Darkwing Duck. He was wearing a bomber jacket and an aviator helmet, and was also proudly wearing a Darkwing Duck pin on his scarf- it was none other than Darkwing's very own sidekick, Launchpad McQuack!

"Interesting way to introduce this character." Mrs Beakley approved with a nod. "A dynamic entrance usually makes for a memorable first scene."

Launchpad smiled with a childlike glee, delighted to see how much the housekeeper seemed to enjoy his Darkwing Duck fanfiction. He hadn't shown it to anyone else; he did have an account on a popular fanfiction website, but Launchpad mainly used the site to read other people's stories and had only posted a few one-shots there, none involving his self-insert. He knew self-inserts were generally frowned upon, so he kept this particular fic to himself, simply enjoying how happy it made him to work on it. Mrs Beakley didn't seem to be disturbed by said self-insert, though, which was a good thing. He had only given her his private Darkwing Duck fanfiction because he had been swept by the moment, by how joyous he had been to finally be able to find someone in real life who was as much into the masked vigilante as he was, that Launchpad hadn't really thought about it when he had handed her the thick notebook that meant so much to him.

Besides, he had no idea about Bentina's stance on shipping, and didn't want to introduce her to his more romantic stories before knowing if she liked Quackervolt - Launchpad was pretty open-minded when it came to shipping, but he didn't know if that was the housekeeper's case.

"Soooo... you like it?" the large duck grinned when Mrs Beakley delicately turned another page. "If I like it? Oh, Launchpad, I adore it!" Bentina returned his smile, her eyes leaving the notebook to find her new friend's. "You really have a knack for writing. It's too bad the show's over, I'm sure you could have submitted that script to them!" "Oh gee, that means a lot!"

Scrooge's driver blushed, nervously rubbing the back of his head. Darkwing Duck was everything to him; it had been a constant in his life, something that had always managed to lift his spirits when he was feeling down. Which was why if someone as cultivated and stern as Bentina Beakley deemed his work worthy enough to be turned into an actual episode, it made Launchpad's chest puff with pride.

"Is that all there is?" Mrs Beakley asked, sounding disappointed, when she reached the last page covered in the pilot's messy handwriting. "Or is the rest in another notebook?" "Nope, it's all there. I uh, I have lots of other ideas but I just haven't had time lately to put them on paper, what with all the adventurin' Mr McD had us doing. Not that it's a bad thing!" Launchpad was quick to correct himself. "Oh, don't worry, I see what you mean." Bentina nodded in understanding, carefully putting the notebook on the coffee table near the couch. "But if you do get around to writing a sequel, or perhaps several sequels, make sure to lend them to me!"

Mrs Beakley concluded by wrapping her arm around Launchpad's shoulders in an affectionate gesture, one the pilot was eager to return, almost throwing himself at the housekeeper. He loved physical contact, whether it be ruffling Dewey's feathers or holding Webby's hand when she invited him to tea parties in her room, or even hugging Louie that one time he had found him crying in the kitchen after a nightmare. It was just in Launchpad's nature to enjoy feeling the presence of people he liked, to convey how much he appreciated them by the slightest brush of a feather against a feather.

He was especially happy to be hugging Bentina now: unlike him, she was seldom seen giving physical gestures of affection, except to her beloved grand-daughter. Of course, Mrs Beakley had a heart of gold and was fiercely protective of the McDuck Manor's inhabitants; but she had vastly different ways to show her affection. It was embedded in the way she made sure Donald's room was always ready if the sailor was to suddenly want to sleep closer to his nephews, it was etched in the comfortable silence she offered Scrooge when his rants about mundane issues slowly turned into far more personal confidences. It was something delicate, woven into her attitude and acts so smoothly that you barely noticed it, the polar opposite of Launchpad's loud and bright shows of affection.

When Launchpad offered her a tight hug, Mrs Beakley couldn't help but smile; even though Scrooge's driver sometimes annoyed her or made a mess in a room she'd just cleaned, she couldn't stay mad at him for long. Launchpad never did anything maliciously - he was always true to himself, and honest in every sense of the word. The only thing she regretted was to not have taken the time to know him better before today, although she promised herself to spend more time with the pilot from now on.

“You know what, Launchpad?” the older duck asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes when her colleague finally let go. “We should film this. Right now.” “Really?!” the pilot exclaimed giddily. “Oh, this is gonna be awesome! Wait right here, let me get my DW costume and my camera!” “You have a costume?” the housekeeper inquired, curious. “Oh, yeah, wait- there it is!” Launchpad proudly exclaimed, taking a hat, a mask and a cape out of his closet. “Haven’t made the suit yet, but that’s already good!” “Did you sew this?” Bentina asked, getting up to see the costume up close. It was definitely handmade, but it was crafted expertly, and the seams were almost invisible. She couldn’t help but be surprised: she had seen the pilot be very clumsy, she had seen him crash planes and cars and even a lawnmower once, so she couldn’t have imagined Launchpad was that good at something that required patience and precision like sewing. “Sure did.” Launchpad beamed, flattered by the way the housekeeper admired his work. “They don’t do adult sizes, so I had to. You wanna try it on?” “Really? May I?” “Of course, I’m sure you’ll be an awesome Darkwing! And I’ll be a great Launchpad! Come on, lady, let’s get dangerous!”

--------

Dont hesitate to hmu on twitter @sarahnitr0 !

The sub plot with Launchpad and Beakley becoming friends was so good!! They're really good, they contrast each other and can learn a lot from the other. And seeing Mrs Beakley loving LP's script and be so excited to film his self insert fic was amazing so I wanted to do something with that :D Also it was my first time writing Beakley, I love her so I hope I did her justice :v

Side note LP is the kind of guy to leave lengthy reviews on every fic he likes lets all agree here (Also he ships himself with DW obviously >w<)

#launchpad mcquack #bentina beakley #mrs beakley #ducktales #launchpad and beakley #ducktober #my fics #writing #my writing #fanfiction

[bri-borg]

stars of lovingness in her hair

A/N: heeeyyyy it’s part two. This features very bad French, from me, a person who was supposed to be certified fluent in it in high school, and only used google translate to double check myself, which I do not reccomend—so I take full responsibility of the shittiness of the French dialogue. Also the poem I keep using is À une passante by Baudelaire, which I have attached here right after the translations. Also this wasn’t beta’d and was edited by me, a tired person.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, some suggestive dialogue, metions of anxiety, general repression of feelings

read part one here :)

chapter summary: a few months have passed since you met Brian, and the two of you have become rather good friends. Halfway the focus of the story shifts more toward’s Brian’s perspective, and focuses on his feelings and how he deals with them. This jumps back and forth from the current timeline to a few months prior.

——————————————————————————————-

friday night

It had been a few months since you’d become friends with Brian. The two of you had become rather inseparable since you met, at first, spending Tuesday and Thursday nights together—you tutoring him in French, and him helping you out with algebra. You felt as though you had known each other all your lives and quickly found a friendship form between the two of you. Even after you’d finish your lessons you’d stay at his flat a little longer, with him making you tea of playing you a new song he’d written about a polar bear on his guitar or god know’s what. There was just something about Brian, you thought, that spoke to you, beyond the music and the intelligence. You enjoyed one another’s company. On more than one occasion you’d ended up dozing off, with your head resting gently on Brian’s shoulder, and his head leaning against yours while Doctor Who played on the telly—which had raised eyebrows from many people, most of all Brian’s roommate, but you were friends, you thought, nothing more.

Now, he’s sat on the floor of his flat, your knees on either side of him, his notebook facing open on his lap, illegible scribbles of verb conjugations and other grammatical rules written across the pages as he sat with his legs crossed. 

“I wish you’d keep your curls,” you say as you run a brush through Brian’s hair, trying your best to be gentle and not tug so hard, your fingers delicate as they undo any tangles and knots you found. By the coffee table lay the hair straightener, as you waited patiently for it to heat up, its thick black cord uncoiled and plugged to a nearby outlet. You’d volunteered to do Brian’s hair, before tonight’s gig—seeing as he almost burnt his flat down the last time he’d tried to straighten his hair. Brian, being Brian, had found an excuse to squeeze in an extra study session, although it took some convincing on your part.

“I don’t,” Brian laughs, “wish my hair looked good—I look like I’ve just gotten electrocuted half the time! I’m gangly, awkward and I’ve got a huge nose—the straight hair redeems me, I think—makes me look halfway decent.” 

Your heart sinks a bit as you hear him talk about himself like this. You couldn’t bear hearing him think so little of himself when you thought the world of him.

“Well, I like them,” you say, with a pout, gently kicking Brian in the thigh with your foot.

“Ow!” Brian protests with mock indignation.

“Oh, piss off that didn’t even hurt,” you chuckle, before reaching over and grabbing the hair straightener. “Now hold still, alright?” Brian nods, turning his head away from you, trying to focus on his notes. “Right, allons-y! Pouvez-vous me lire? Je veux entendrer.”

Brian shifts nervously in place. “Oh, now? I thought we were only doing grammar today. Y/N, ’m afraid I haven’t had practice in a bit, but I promise—“

“Pouvez vous, parler en Français, s’il vous plait.“ You interrupt, casing your eyebrows at him rather sternly when he turns to look at you. “And stay still,” you add, “I don’t want to burn you.”

Brian laughs at that, pointing out how it’s unfair that you spoke in English just now, before you set him on track and tell him to just get on with the reading.

“Qu'est ce que voulez-vous que je lire?” Brian asks.

“Tu peux décider. Je n’ai pas de préférence.”

Brian holds his finger up for a moment telling you to pause the damage on his hair for a bit, before reaching over to his bag and pulling out a collection of Baudelaire’s poems—and you smile to yourself knowing he probably took it out of the library when he saw you reading it. He starts, slowly reading the words at first, but relaxes as you place your hand on his shoulders and urge him to continue.

“Un éclair… puis la nuit! — Fugitive beauté 

Dont le regard m'a fait soudainement renaître,

Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l'éternité?—how was that?” Brian tries to turn his face towards yours though you keep him in place, taking a moment as you finishing straightening a strand before you speak again. 

“Très bien, Baudelaire aurait été fier!,” you praise, giving his head a gentle pat. “Although you still drop the accent egout on some places, but you’re getting there. You can speak French, you’ve just got to be a bit more confident, Bri. Maintenant, continuez s’il vous plait.”

He continues, reading out verses, with you listening intently, at first hesitant of any mistakes he might make, but relaxing as you tell him he’s doing better, helping him out only with a few words here and there. Eventually the two of you stop, choosing instead to listen and sing along to the Sgt. Pepper record while you finish straightening his hair. But that eventually spins its way to its end, and you and Brian, too preoccupied with his hair to get up and flip it over, just sit there quietly, and comfortably enjoying each other’s presence. 

—————————

Brian’s POV

As he sat there, feeling Y/N run her fingers delicately through his hair, Brian couldn’t help but sink into the warmth of her touch, feeling how relaxed he was around her—with her—near her. He listened to the static of the record, and the gentle pattern of Y/N’s breathing. Brian opened his mouth and turned his head slightly, as if to speak, before quickly turning away, choosing to say nothing, instead.

“What was that?” He heard Y/N ask him, straightening her back up off the couch and leaning her body towards him.

“Nothing,” Brian reassured her, his hand gently reaching for her knee for a brief moment. He said nothing more to her and instead let the silence take over, as the words he’d wanted to say hung in the air.

—————————

a few months prior 1969

Brian walked into class that morning, feeling, for the first time in his academic career, completely out of place. He was surrounded by younger students, all of whom he didn’t recognize from his department. And although it wasn’t anything truly serious, he felt his anxieties bubble in his stomach, at the thought of sticking out. He’d stick out as because he was older—because he was out of his department—because of how he looked, Brian thought. He didn’t like his nose, or his hair, or how skinny he was—his appearance already made him feel awkward and out of place, and now people were definitely going to notice him, an upper-year, awkwardly sat on the wooden chairs—probably struggling to keep up with the class because he was an idiot who’d put off his electives until his last year—

“Bonjour classe. Pouvez-vous vous asseoir, s'il vous plaît. Nous allons commencer sous peu.” Brian heard a tall, and rather stern looking woman say as she entered the class. “Sit down, please. We’ve ten minutes,” he heard her add when nobody moved.

Brian, along with everybody else began looking for seats, with Brian opting for a chair somewhere towards the back of the lecture hall. Brian ran his fingers across his pencil, not even noticing how he’d begun to strum a pattern of a song as he did. He looked around himself, before running his other hand over his hair, making sure that the front didn’t curl up and out. Eyes shifting towards the door he saw a girl enter the hall. She was very pretty, he thought. She craned her neck looking for a seat before situating herself a few seats down in front of Brian. Then Madame Augillard began speaking.

Their Professor seemingly refused to speak a word of English, Brian noted. To his relief he wasn’t the only person who looked lost, everyone else around him (including himself) seemed to scramble for their dictionaries, hastily flipping across the pages. Well, everyone except her, he thought. He stole a glance at her, raising her hand whenever the Professor had a question—and though Brian understood virtually none of the words they’d exchange, he could tell from Augillard’s smile that this girl was getting everything right.

Brian found the next few classes over the next few weeks easier than the first day, with the Professor noting that she only ever spoke strictly in French on the first day to discourage anyone who wouldn’t take the class seriously. Brian was still struggling, however—well, his definition of struggle that was. He got decent marks and all that, but he thought he could do better.  Not being satisfied with his grades enough, Brian opted to spend more time at the library, much to the disappointment of his bandmates, who were hoping to slip in as many rehearsals as they could. But Brian found that didn’t help either. 

Walking into the library, Brian glanced around for a seat, only to find her, sat comfortable in a corner, brows furrowed as she scribbled down notes. He found out rather quickly that he could always find her there. She was so intelligent, he thought, so focused. He studied the way her eyes read over her textbooks, the way she fidgeted with the edges of her notebooks when she was concentrated. He mentally chastised himself in class or at the library, telling himself to focus, and feeling guilty and weird at how often he’d stolen a glance at her.

One lecture, as Brian sat in Augillard’s class, he found that he wasn’t listening to the lecture, really, but to a song he’d hear whenever he saw her. His composition notebook, rather than being endless lists of verb conjugations and overly complicated grammatical rules were instead filled of scribbling pages and pages of a words, some crossed out, some riddled with question marks—a song he didn’t know the words to just yet.

—————————

friday, late night

A bead of sweat rolled down Brian’s brow as he pushed the amplifier into Roger’s van. He, Roger and Tim all thought they’d played quite well, but much to their disappointment, there were only a handful of people who attended tonight’s gig—but Y/N was there, and that seemed to make up for it. Y/N had gone home, much to her chagrin, helping a well-pissed Suzie walk the two blocks home as she draped her arm on her shoulders. When she’d found out that Roger had written a song about a girl he was seeing who was definitely not her, she had, according to Y/N, decided to get “very much, thoroughly, and without a doubt piss-drunk.” 

“This yours?” Roger asked, interrupting Brian’s train of thought. He held out a composition notebook, but before Brian could nod his head ‘yes’ and take it from his friend, Roger yanked it away, holding it above himself and refusing to give it back. “Who’s this about, though?” He asked Brian, eyebrows raised in a suggestive manner. He opens the notebook and begins to read. 

“On such a breathless night as this. Upon my brow the lightest kiss—oh very poetic, Brian.” Roger grins mischievously, his laughter erupting in bubbling fits as Brian runs circles around him, trying to grab at him. Roger continued reading, “I walked alone, and all around the air did say ‘my lady soon will stir this way—“

“Will you give me that back?” Brian demands, almost lunging towards Roger, who’d by now made his way up one of their speakers, dangling the notebook above Brian as he continued to read out of it.

“Needing - unheard, Pleading - one word—oh, Brian, you’re a next generation Shelley, you are!”

“Will you stop acting like a child, Rog!” Brian demands.Roger grabs Brian’s arm as it reaches for him, before giving him a look of feigned shock, and widening his blue eyes at his friend. “Give it back,” Brian says rather pathetically, wringing his hands away from Roger.

“Tell me who it’s about and I might—I’m curious, you never wax poetry, not even about that bird you shagged in April. Did you even shag her—“

“Oi! Get off the speaker’s those cost a fortune!” Tim yelled from down the street. Tim walked towards his bandmates, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched as Roger hopped off the speaker, not even looking the least bit embarrassed to be caught, but rather, smiling widely at Brian, who by now, was fuming. “Christ, I’m gone a few minutes to pay our venue, and you lot are out here doing all this.” Tim continues.

“It’s Rog’s fault!” Brian stomps, sounding almost like a petulant child when he hears the words come out of his mouth. “Sorry,” he adds quickly, feeling embarrassment creep up into his cheeks as he tried looking Tim in the eye.

“Brian’s in love—or bewitched—possibly both,” Roger says quite musically, turning to face Brian before he flutters his eyelashes at him. Tim yanks the notebook from Roger’s grasp and hands it to Brian, before exasperatedly muttering at the two to just finish packing and get in the car.

————

saturday morning

“Briaaaannnnn,” Roger drawled, as he lay on the couch, very much hungover as his legs draped over the back as he let his head fall off the seat, his blonde hair swinging with every shake of his head, “Who’s it for, Bri—“

“Stop. I’m trying to study,” Brian retorted, as he sat on the couch, never taking his eyes off his textbook to look at his friend beside him.

“Studying—it’s a fucking Saturday, Bri! Get some rest, get drunk, go out! Christ it’s not French again is it?” Roger said as he began shifting on the couch, turning to lay his head on one of the armrests, and effectively nudging Brian off the couch as he tried to stretch his legs. Roger winced at the volume of his own voice.

“Bloody hell, Roger, get your feet off the couch I’ve no room!” Brian complained, trying to push Roger’s feet back by settling himself back on the couch, struggling to be comfortable

“Why the fuck are you even taking French anyway? Could have dropped it for an easy one. Don’t even need it to be a physicist—”

“Astrophysicist,” Brian began, standing up, finally. “And this isn’t French it’s for my physics final on Monday—and I happen to like taking French. I’m not just here to get a degree, y’know—it’s the pursuit of knowledge—“

“You just like spending time with Y/N–“ Roger interrupted. Brian stared at him for a few seconds before swatting at his friend’s feet with his textbook.

“Ow! Shit! What the bloody fuck was that for?” Roger protested, though Brian barely grazed him and he tried to kick and flail his legs up to get at Brian.

Brian huffed, crossing his arms as he raised his brows at his friend. “Don’t you have a biology exam to study for?” He said, rather indignantly.

“Hah. Didn’t I tell you? I’m exempted.” Roger says with a cheeky grin, propping his feet back up on the couch. “That’s that natural brilliance I s’pose—some of us don’t need to study,” he muses, reaching over to the coffee table to get his lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Brian made his way to the kitchen, huffing as he sat himself on the small, short chairs, frowning as Roger stretched his legs up in the air as if to taunt him. After a few moments, his friend poked his head from behind the couch, his chin resting on his arms as he crossed them.

“So it’s about Y/N then, I reckon.” Roger says, a cigarette hanging between his lips as he lights it.

Brian doesn’t answer, but his face does flush, and he holds up his textbook rather impractically to cover his face.

Gotcha. Roger thinks. “So you fancy her then.” He teases, wiggling his eyebrows a bit as Brian finally looks up at him.

“We’re just friends, really, Rog—”

Roger takes a long drag out of his cigarette, “You think I don’t see the two of you sprawled out on this here couch every other night—“

“We were studying. For French—“

“Her hands running through your hair? Yeah you lot was studying French alright,” Roger rolls his eyes, “next thing you know you’ll tell me you’re reviewing Isaac bloody Newton’s three laws of gravity while she’s got her hands down your trousers jerking you off—“

“She was straightening my hair—she was being nice.” Brian interrupted, snapping his textbook shut, nostrils flaring as his mouth forming a straight, hard line and he stood up out of his chair. Roger’s smile faded and his expression began to soften.

“Brian,” Roger said with a gentler tone, before promptly putting his cigarette out and swinging his legs over to straddle the couch “I’m sorry, that was out of line. But there’s no need to lie to me, we’re mates, you can tell me anything—I won’t even make fun of you if it actually bothers you. Sorry if it did.” 

“S’alright” Brian said quietly, sitting back down again. 

“So, you must really like her then, huh?” Roger asks, his voice kinder, and eyes focused on his friend. He made his way to sit himself opposite Brian by the kitchen. Brian, doesn’t respond, his fingers lightly drumming on the edge of his textbook as he stares at the floorboards, although Roger gets his answer from the silence alone. “So why don’t you tell her then, she’s not seeing anyone, is she?”

Brian is silent before shaking his head and speaking. “We’re friends, Rog nothing more. And even if I was interested in her in that way—it’s not a chance I’d want to take, I mean, what if I make things awkward, or we never speak again. I don’t think you understand that you can just be friends with girls without doing anything, honestly, Rog.” Brian tries to shrug it off with a laugh. They were just friends, he thought. And although he might have fancied her, he truly valued their friendship, and she seemed to as well. He would regret it if he chose to be selfish and ruined that.

Roger just stares at him, his brows furrowed, and his mouth curved into a frown, seeming rather unconviced with his friend before getting up with a sigh and a pat on Brian’s shoulder. 

“If I were you, I’d take my chances,” he tells Brian, before turning on his heel and flopping himself back onto the couch, leaving Brian in the kitchen alone.

——

Later that night Brian sat on his bed, his composition notebook open to him as he tuned his guitar. Roger had left—something about bar-hopping with Farokh, which Brian had kindly declined, opting for a night in. Brian sat in his room, his fingers gently strumming over his strings, leaning in to the warm glow of his bedside lamp beside him.

This was stupid, he thought. Why was he even bothering finishing this song? 

When he first wrote it down it started out as a few words that gradually blossomed into sentences every day he’d see her pass him by at the library, the sunlight streaming in to illuminate her, small particles of dust floating around her, making her look ethereal. But now—now that he knew her, and heard her laughter, and seen her smile. Now, Brian found as though he was discovering new words to his song, and heard the melody clearer than before every day that he knew her. 

Maybe Roger was right. Maybe he should take his chances, he thinks back to their conversation earlier. But there was no point in finishing it. They were meant to be friends. They were good as friends. Nothing more. It would ruin things, anyway.

 But Brian knew he had to get the song out of his head eventually, or he might just go mad, he thought. Brian reached over, grabbing his pencil, writing out the words he heard so clearly in his mind. He read over them carefully, his voice small and gentle before he began to sing. Then he began adding music to it, strumming gently with his sixpence between his fingers.

When his song ended he let the last words disappear into the silence of his room, and he couldn’t help but feel further away from Y/N than when he didn’t know her.

TRANSLATIONS:

“allons-y! Pouvez-vous me lire? Je veux entendrer.” = Let’s go, can you read to me? I want to hear…”

“Pouvez vous, parler en Français, s’il vous plait.“ = Speak in French, if you please.

“Qu'est ce que voulez-vous que je lire?”  = “What do you want me to read?”

“Tu peux décider. Je n’ai pas de préférence.” = (informal version of ‘you’ indicating comfort, and casual tone) You can decide. I don’t have a preference.

“Très bien, Baudelaire aurait été fier!” = Very good! Baudelaire would have been proud!

Maintenant, continuez s’il vous plait.= Now, continue, please.

“Bonjour classe. Pouvez-vous vous asseoir, s'il vous plaît. Nous allons commencer dans quelques minutes” = Good morning class, please sit down. We will begin in a few minutes.

À une passante de Charles Baudelaire

La rue assourdissante autour de moi hurlait.

Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse,

Une femme passa, d’une main fastueuse

Soulevant, balançant le feston et l’ourlet;

Agile et noble, avec sa jambe de statue.

Moi, je buvais, crispé comme un extravagant,

Dans son oeil, ciel livide où germe l’ouragan,

La douceur qui fascine et le plaisir qui tue.

Un éclair… puis la nuit! — Fugitive beauté

Dont le regard m’a fait soudainement renaître,

Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l’éternité?

Ailleurs, bien loin d’ici! trop tard! jamais peut-être!

Car j’ignore où tu fuis, tu ne sais où je vais,

Ô toi que j’eusse aimée, ô toi qui le savais!

TRANSLATION:

The deafening street around me roared.

Tall, slim, in deep mourning,  majestic grief,

A woman passed, lifting and swinging

With a pompous gesture the hem and flounces of her skirt,

Swift and noble, with statuesque limb.

As for me, I drank, twitching like a crazy man,

From her eye, livid sky where the hurricane is born,

The softness that fascinates and the pleasure that kills,

A lightning flash… then night! O fleeting beauty,

By whose glance I was suddenly reborn,

Shall I see you again only in eternity?

Somewhere else, way too far from here! Too late! Perhaps never!

For I do not know where you flee, you don’t know where I go,

O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it!

#brian may x female reader #brian may x y/n #Brian may x reader #Brian may #queen x reader #queen fanfiction

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Hydrangea - Chapter 1

The home was large and imposing. Located on the second largest island, in the Stockholm archipelago, it was connected to Stockholm by a bridge, which meant it was in the perfect location to quickly reach the rest of civilization whenever the moment was required -- but was enough out of the way that I didn't have to be bothered by anyone. The quiet location of the home allowed me the peace and privacy recent events, had made so valuable.

Upon stepping inside, I noted the dust that covered every single surface within the home; and on the kitchen table -- sat a magazine from six years ago. It had been a while since anyone used this place. It had been in our family for several generations, and although it was grand and beautiful in the summer, it was a hard place to live in the winter. Just heating it, was a small fortune, especially considering it had no protection or barriers to help shield it from the ferocious frozen winds, that relentlessly lasted the coldest months of an already savage cold.

 My tiny Pomeranian, Max, took a moment to sniff around. He was as fearless as he was adorable, and I could only pray that he managed to stay out of trouble. Max was my loyal little man, and when i was at my lowest, he really helped me keep going. I had given up on myself, but I couldnt let my little Max down. I leaned down and gave him a quick back rub, before he trotted off to sniff around some more. I could only imagine the sensory overload all this was to a little city dog, that now had an entire new world to investigate.

I walked around the house, going from room to room, opening up windows to let in the fresh air. I peeked over at my neighbors house, and was pleased to see people were there.

Back when I was growing up, I would come here every summer, without fail. During that time, I had managed to develop amazing friendships with the children who had lived next door -- Bill and Eija Skarsgard. Bill was the tall and lanky boy who would always have scrapes and bruises, and absolutely zero fear whatsoever. Eija, was just as bold as her older brother. She never failed to be confident in any situation -- even when I was hesitant about something. In fact, if I tried to chicken out, or god forbid, not even try, she always found a way to change my mind. I was a naturally timid child, but they would have none of it. There were 3 older brothers, and although theyd often humor us, they were too old to play our silly games of pretend.  But looking back on the events that led me here, I couldn't help but wish I’d stayed that sweet timid girl, that cried when i caught a fish, because id made its mouth bleed. Being fearless and passionate hadnt gone well for me.

These days, from what I'd seen online and read about in articles, it seemed that almost all of the Skarsgard brothers were actors. I remembered the father was some sort of artistic type, and was shocked his sons had followed suit, all but one of them, got so embarrassed by his unapologetic nudity. The boys I grew up playing "make believe" with as children, were now critically acclaimed actors. Not only that but beautiful ones at that! Bill had grown into quite the looker. He was handsome by anyone's standards,  with his rich and dark brown hair, sinful full lips, chiseled facial features and penetrating green eyes. Looking at him in magazines, it was mind-blowing that this was the same boy that helped me build dams out of stones, or dig in the dirt for hours. I was sorry I'd lost touch with them but was too shy to reach out to them now that they were famous. That wasn't why I missed them, although I'm sure that's what they'd think. I hoped that the fame hadn't gone to their heads and that they were still the friendly, free-spirited family that I had always remembered them to be before I couldn't find the time to come back to this place.

When you're a teenager, you don't want to escape the rat race; you want to be in the thick of it. I was by no means a party girl, but I did enjoy an active social life in my teens, and all through college. I was obsessed with getting good grades and was a bit of an overachiever, so I kept myself busy. I was always aloof with boys because frankly, they all seemed more trouble than they were worth. I had high standards and was of the mindset that I would rather be alone than settle for someone perfect for me. Then I met Adam.

Adam appeared perfect, at least at the surface. He was naturally athletic and tall, attractive by conventional standards; and very funny -- as well as charismatic and successful. He honestly had it all, or so I thought. People, myself included, were instinctively drawn in by him. Adam could always be counted upon for a good time with a great story. He was your typical all-american boy next door that you wanted to do bad things with. It’d actually flattered me, when he took an interest in me, and tirelessly pursued me.

If I had to describe myself, physically, I was fortunate enough to be naturally conventionally attractive as well. However, I had a standoffish vibe. In my defense, resting bitch face is a thing that can’t be fixed for some people, but with every cloud, there's a silver lining. Especially since it's saved me from numerous creeps approaching me, and at least gave me the illusion that I blended in, and didn't draw much notice.  I HATED being the center of attention. On a Friday night, you're more likely to find me at home curled up on my couch engrossed in a good novel -- rather than dealing with strangers and drunk people.

I had a very secure career as a  business analyst, for a big utility company; so I was not the person you ever wanted to see. I analyzed our various departments and employees, to always be sure, we work at our most financial efficiency, and if I did come to see you, it wasn’t because to give you a high five. As long as I kept us out of the red, and looked professional and clean, they really couldn't have cared less about aging or being fashionable.

As time progressed within our relationship, I thought nothing of it when Adam got a new assistant at work named Alexis. Alexis had a lovely face and Victoria's Secret body. She was slender, and never appeared to have a single strand of hair out of place. A few friends made comments, but I defended her, annoyed people only looked at her superficially, and didn't take her seriously. I had suffered this same plight, my entire life, so I refused to acknowledge her beauty as anything suspicious. She was brilliant and tenacious, and her organizational skills were spectacular, and coming from me, that's quite a compliment.  She also knew a lot about healthy eating habits and managed to share diet and exercise tips with Adam when he started to find it difficult to fit in some of his suits. I thought it was sweet of him to make a new friend, and treat her like a peer and looking back, I want to choke myself.  I was, quite frankly, the most naive, trusting idiot on the planet.

It started simply; she would occasionally "forget" to give him some messages from me and once in a while laughing a little too much at one of his jokes that just wasn't as funny, or always would touch his arm or back or shoulder. Honestly, it was a tint bit annoying, but he had always been a handsome, charming guy, that made people feel comfortable. She wasn't the first one to be a bit too familiar, but at the end of the day, he loved me and wanted to marry me. I had no reason to not trust him because of her actions. If I'm honest, I probably should confess I am a bit of a reclusive type and am not very attentive or needy. Alone time is right up there with oxygen, for me, so I have to trust completely, or I’ll drive myself nuts.

If I’d paid closer attention, id have questioned why he started staying later and later at the office. I just assumed he was taking on more cases, that he had gained from all the free publicity when he had represented a notorious South American cartel crime lords son, and saved him from what was thought to be a certain a guaranteed death sentence. He’d still received a life sentence, but considering the 74 crimes had been guilty of, that was damn near a miracle! So, I didn’t mind when he had to cancel several dates with me. In fact, I was proud of him for getting more work, rising in the ranks of the legal hierarchy as well. Then there was his sudden disinterest in looking at houses with me. One of the most significant conflicts in our relationship had always been that I refused to move in together until we were married. Since we were going to be getting married at the end of summer, he had been foaming at the mouth to pick out our future home, but now it was like he planned on buying a house after we were married. I didn't let it bother me though, I figured that because of his busy work schedule, it would just be easier for me to take photos of the houses for him, and put them all in an online portfolio for him to review at his convenience. I even went as far as completely buying his bullshit excuse of "needing something to hold back his hair out of his eyes, while he was at the gym" when I found a woman's hair tye in his fucking bathroom. (Believe me, if I could go back and slap the shit out of myself --) :

It wasn’t until I received a call from my gynecologist with the results from my yearly pap smear -- that I was doused in the cold hard reality of what was going on. I had chlamydia, and quite frankly -- I wanted to cut his manhood off and make him eat it, I was so mad. I stormed into his office and burst through the doors dramatically slamming the test results on his desk in front of him. And you want to know the embarrassing part? I still didn't think it was Alexis.

“What dirty ass whore, have you been sticking your dick in? Who was worth throwing us away, because its fucking over.” I said menacingly enough, he scooted back a bit.

“I dont think you should talk about her like she cant hear you, for fucks sake,” he said looking over at Alexis who continued to work quietly and avoid eye contact with me; almost pretending as if nothing were wrong and she could not in fact hear me.

I was at a complete loss. I stood there with my mouth agape, trying to process this information, and when I could feel the lump in my throat rise, and the tears threatened to fall, I turned on my heel and left, without saying another word.

Looking back, I should have noticed several signs that something was amiss.

About six months ago, he became very concerned with his appearance; hitting the gym, eating healthy, buying anti-aging products, investing in several expensive wardrobe pieces, getting a new hairstyle. I had found it funny that at 30 years old, he was having a mid-life crisis. I’d tease him about it a little bit, and he’d just roll his eyes and say he wasn’t a natural stunner like me.

I’ve always been very low maintenance, but that’s because my body knows it has to keep it together because I’m not doing a bunch of crazy stuff to stay young. I’m totally fine with gray hairs, wrinkles and wearing my Juicy tracksuits that haven’t been in style, for a decade. There were better odds that I’d get superpowers than I’d get Botox.

I had been so blind. Such a fool.

When Adam came by my home to pick up his possessions he’d left there over the years, she came along and even had the audacity to come inside with him. She had this smug look on her face, and kept whispering to Adam and giggling. I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me but was a lady dammit... I held it together until they finally left, and as I closed the door and locked it behind them, I pressed my forehead to the door, willing myself to stay strong, but my legs got so weak, and the air felt like it’d been knocked out of me. And I suddenly felt far too heavy to stand. I crumpled to the floor, and curled myself into the fetal position, and cried like I, ve never cried in my entire life. Hysterical, slobberyface, sobbing with boogers, till my throat and diaphragm hurt, and then I cried some more.

My heart was broken. I felt like my life was over, and my chance at happiness had left with him. I sunk into a pretty deep depression and stopped cleaning the house and speaking to anyone outside of work. If it hadn't been for my loyalty to Max, I don't know if I would of left my house. I had to take care of Max tho, so I pressed on although I was a shell of my old self.

I’d torture myself looking at their social media accounts, with all their cute little pictures and sappy comments. I’d never been one to post 1000 pictures of my life or write to my boyfriend. I saw every day, professions of my love for all the world to see. I updated my Instagram maybe once a month, unlike Alexis, who seemed to update hers about once an hour. It was disgusting.

That’s how I saw the hydrangea bushes.

I always loved hydrangeas and had asked Adam if I could plant some at his office, and he’d always said they were too problematic. I’m an analyst, so rather than argue, I gathered various varieties and strains, what their strengths and weaknesses were, what colors were offered, how often they bloomed and what was required to keep them alive. I had presented Adam with the top 3 hydrangea candidates in folders that were the color they’d bloom to be, and was rather pleased with myself. He’d been busy at the time and handed the folders off to Alexis, promising to look them over later. I asked him a few times if he’d gotten a chance to look them over and he’d get annoyed, so I just let it go.

Now I was sitting here, seething with rage, looking at Alexis, posing next to a sizeable Bloomstruck hydrangea bush holding my motherfucking folder.

I don’t know what came over me, but I had to destroy that bush.: I stayed up all night, figuring out the best strategy. Finally, I decided to go by his office before sunrise, since no one would be around, for me to douse said bush in lighter fluid and walk away to let it soak in. Eventually, once they had arrived at the office a little bit later, I would wait for them to all be inside and then casually stroll on by and toss a lit match in the bush.

 Burn baby, burn! 

His office building was made out of bricks and the flowering bed was also encased in bricks; there was no risk of it getting out of control.

I jogged by, splashing the contents all over the bush, and then crossed the street to the parking garage, where I took the stairs up to the sixth floor, where I could see them arrive without being seen. People never look up.

It didn't take long before I saw Adam’s shiny black Mercedes pull into his reserved parking space, and imagine my surprise when Alexis got out the passenger side. I guess he was giving her rides to work now too, or maybe they even lived together. Frankly, I didn't care, but they were not getting happily ever after, with my favorite fucking flowers!

They kissed and held hands, in front of God and everybody. It was repulsive and so unprofessional. He pulled her into a deep kiss and then went inside, leaving her outside. What was she doing? I bet she was going to take some fucking selfies. She walked over to MY bush, digging in her purse. More pictures with the bush, but when she pulled something out of her purse, my stomach dropped. In her hand, she had a cigarette and a lighter. She tried to light her cigarette, but it was a windy day. Thank God, I breathed a sigh of relief until she huddled down into the bush, using it to block the wind and lit her cigarette. I'm not exaggerating when I say; she quite literally burst into flames.

 I watched in horror, as she ran around flailing her arms and screaming completely engulfed in flames. Then I turned around, and I ran as fast and as far as my legs would take me in the opposite direction.

I want to give a huge thank you for helping me with editing @imaginationlane. She is such a good writer, and she took the time to help point me in the right direction and I'm very thankful. I actually edited something!!!! Yeah!!!

If I should keep going, like or comment or reblog. I welcome any comments, good or bad.

#bill skarsgard #billy skarsgard #fanfic #establishing story #hydrangea #fan fiction #multiple parts #my writing

[sapphicscholar]

your fics are helping me get through the shittiest breakup right now, so thank you. I know you probably have a million prompts but would you be interested in writing a story where maggie is having a really dark day and feeling really depressed/worthless within herself (either because of internalised homophobia, past trauma etc) and alex takes care of her? maybe even some soft tearful smut later?

Hey, I hope you’re doing alright! I’m sorry it’s taken me a little while to get to this prompt (I didn’t want to do a shitty job when my focus was so divided with work and applications). Sending all the best thoughts your way! It’s now posted to AO3.

Author notes:

CW on homophobia, abusive families, anxiety/depression, etc.

A/N: Now that we’re in the thick of the holiday season, I’ve gotten a few asks for chosen family and hurt/comfort. I know it can be really hard dealing with family (or making the perfectly legitimate choice not to but seeing posts on social media that make it seem like everyone else has a loving, supportive biological family). No matter what choice you make (and I know sometimes there really isn’t a choice, depending on the situation), I’m sending you all the best thoughts. I hope you’re able to make time for yourself, even if it just means finding a quiet room to be alone for a little bit, maybe some wifi to catch up on gay af fanfic or cute puppy gifs, which I’ll try to post in spades over the break when I have time to be on my phone or computer. There are links to resources here as well.

A/N 2: Regarding a few lines in this fic: Obviously not all religion is inherently homophobic, nor do I think anyone smart and scientific (e.g. Alex) must necessarily be an atheist. But I think for so many of us who were raised Catholic (fun foreshadowing here for the nerd notes at the end today), religion was something that shaped our upbringing in an often profound way and was then thrown back in our faces when we came out. Are there Catholics who don’t follow the Church on its teachings about LGBTQ issues? Of course. But, for instance, the fact that my family happened to be supportive of LGBTQ rights in a general way didn’t mean that I wasn’t terrified of coming out to them; it didn’t exempt me from years of internalized shame after hearing priests and religion teachers teaching that homosexuality was an intrinsic disorder of the soul; and it certainly didn’t save me from the humiliation of having to write that gay sexuality was a sin on a test to get an A, of knowing that I put the jobs of my family members who worked for the Church at risk just by being out, of being forced back into the closet to serve as a teacher at a Catholic high school. And even with all of that, I had it easy (and I certainly had it much easier than my fiancée), which I say not to guilt anyone who is still religious, but to explain the perspective from which I’m writing in advance.

Resources:National Domestic Abuse Hotline (online and phone options): http://www.thehotline.org/

US and International Hotlines for a variety of causes: https://sapphicscholarwrites.tumblr.com/post/167199297270/dont-ever-hesitate-reblog-this-tumblr-rule

Self-Harm Resources:http://myresourcemasterlist.tumblr.com/selfharmhttp://self-care-club.tumblr.com/post/139740925552/giant-self-help-masterposthttp://chooserecovery.tumblr.com/post/64162912692/ultimate-self-injury-recovery-masterpost

Suicide-specific resources:https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/https://themighty.com/suicide-prevention-resources/(For ones that link outside of the US):https://sapphicscholarwrites.tumblr.com/post/164643935260/selfharm-surviver-holybadbitch98https://sapphicscholarwrites.tumblr.com/post/164329606770/uie-fuwaprince-us-helplines-depression

Chapter Text:

“Are you and Maggie doing anything for Christmas?” Kara asked, popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth as she nudged Alex, who had started to nod off during the last episode of The Walking Dead.

“Hmm?”

“Christmas—what are you doing?”

“Oh,” Alex sighed, pulling herself up and rubbing at her eyes. “I don’t know. I mean…I know Maggie used to celebrate it with her family, but obviously that hasn’t been the case in years.”

“Right, right.”

“And it’s not like she goes to church at all these days.”

“I mean…you’re not exactly religious, but we still do Hanukkah with Eliza.”

Alex shook her head. “It’s different, I think. I was never religious; it was always more about…I don’t know, being with family and having something in common. I thought mom might be disappointed in me for being gay, but I never thought her reasoning would be that God said it was bad or anything like that.”

“Right,” Kara conceded. “But it might still be nice to celebrate together—you know, build new traditions.”

“I kinda fucked up with that whole thing on Valentine’s Day,” Alex sighed. Sure, they’d talked eventually and found a way to celebrate, to reclaim memories that had hurt Maggie for so many years. But Alex didn’t want to try to surprise Maggie this time and risk dredging up buried trauma once more. “I don’t know. I’ll talk to her.”

Closing her eyes, Maggie blinked back hot tears that threatened to fall. She focused on her breathing: Breathe in—1, 2, 3, 4, 5—hold—1, 2, 3—exhale—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. She fumbled to take off her watch, finding her pulse and focusing on its too fast beat, waiting for it to slow in time with her deep breathing. She ignored the clock, ignored the reminders of how soon Alex would be home, how weak she would look sitting at the kitchen counter and crying over a piece of paper—a stupid Hallmark greeting card with some trite bullshit scrawled across it in fake cursive.

Of course, the card itself hadn’t set her off. It was the hand-written note inside. The sight of the same handwriting that had adorned the rare note in her lunchbox in kindergarten was what had left her eyes stinging, not the vague platitudes about having a very merry Christmas and an even happier New Year. As she read, she was overcome with surges of anger and sorrow and a guilt that she had never quite been able to shake, no matter how much “pride” she claimed.

She tried to seize on the anger—the rage and frustration that she’d used as motivation to succeed: to do well enough in school to get herself out of that small Nebraska town; to do well enough in college to keep her scholarship; to do well enough in the academy to guarantee her a job, even as a non-straight, non-white woman. And there was plenty of it. Anger at her father’s suggestion that her family had always been there for her, as though they hadn’t left her alone at her aunt’s house with barely enough clothing for the week. Rage at this idea that she had been the one to wrong the family simply by living her life honestly and authentically, that she had ruined something otherwise perfect by being herself. Frustration at the phrase, “your friend,” as though her father hadn’t stormed out of their bridal shower precisely because Alex was so much more than just a friend, as though he hadn’t forced her out of her home and family as a mere child because her feelings for Eliza exceeded the bounds of friendship.

But then there was the photo of all of the cousins and nieces and nephews she’d never met. There were sentences about just how much older everyone had gotten, the sickness and bad times they’d been through without her there, the deaths she’d never known about, let alone mourned. Because she’d already done that—mourning the loss of a family that still existed—but not for her. Not with her.

It still got to her, still struck her with a guilt that felt like it could wrench her open, could undo everything she’d worked for, could tear down every inch of progress and confidence and sense of self she’d fought to build for herself.

Maybe he was right. Maybe they were all right. Maybe she was selfish—selfish for putting herself and her desires above her family, the people who had raised her, who had sacrificed their lives to try to make hers better.

And there was another voice—much quieter, harder to hear, harder to believe—that seemed to call back, to tell her that she was worth it, that her life wasn’t worth sacrificing on the altar of bigoted beliefs, no matter who else worshiped there. She thought the voice sounded an awful lot like Alex’s, and its echoes, the voices of her new family: M’gann and J’onn and James and Kara and Eliza and Winn and everyone else who had come together to prove to her that she had people in her corner even when she felt most alone and least worthy of love.

But they were just that: voices. And in the face of the letter, its words right there, her fingers able to trace over them, feel the indents where her father had pressed down just a little harder, those marks and proof of a family that existed in reality—a family she could barely even think of as family anymore—those voices advocating for her faded to the background, drowned out in a chorus of self-loathing so overpowering she could barely manage to stagger toward the bed, her deep breathing long forgotten.

—

Alex found her there nearly an hour later. Her body was rigid, trembling every so often but otherwise catatonic. She looked as pale as Alex had ever seen her, and there were tear tracks streaked across her cheeks, her eyes puffy and rubbed raw from the harsh swipe of her shirt sleeves. Her fingers were clenched into fists, and her short nails were leaving deep moon-shaped imprints in her palms.

“Maggie!” Alex called out, rushing forward. She’d seen her like this once before—just once—and it had terrified her as much then as it did now. Remembering her DEO training, she forced herself to stay calm, to detach herself from the situation and let her medical instincts take over.

“Hey, Maggie, it’s me, Alex,” she said, her voice low and even as she knelt down on the ground next to her, pulling out the bottle of water she carried with her in her bag and putting it beside Maggie on the bedside table. “You okay if I sit here?”

Maggie managed to get herself to nod.

“Great. And if that changes, I can move, okay? I’m going to stay with you, but I can be a little farther away, or I can get closer if you want.” She paused to let Maggie process. “Do you think you can breathe with me?”

“It’s not helping,” Maggie forced out, her teeth chattering shut.

“Maybe if we do it together, it’ll help a little, okay?” Alex murmured. “Can I put a blanket on you?” Seeing the nod of assent, Alex pulled out the fluffiest blanket they had—the one with no tags, no rough patches or odd seams, the one that Maggie had wrapped around her after everything with her dad and Cadmus—and carefully draped it over Maggie, taking care not to tuck it under her, lest she feel trapped. Feeling how cold Maggie was to the touch, she slipped over to the edge of the room and turned up the thermostat before making her way back over to the bed.

She knelt next to Maggie, helping her to slow her breathing, holding her hand once she told her it was okay to touch, checking her pulse and smiling broadly as it came down to close to normal levels, telling Maggie just how proud she was when she was able to unclench her muscles and relax slightly into the mattress. Once the worst of it seemed to be over, she got Maggie to drink water and stretch out her stiff muscles.

“What do you say to a hot bath together? It’ll warm you up, and we can light the nice candles.”

“Even the cookie one?”

“Definitely the cookie one,” Alex agreed, smiling at the signs of Maggie returning. A few moments later, she came back into the bedroom, having lit the candles and begun filling the bath. “You good to walk?”

“Yeah,” Maggie nodded, standing up and rolling her neck to work out the cricks that had developed in it. She still let Alex take her by the hand and walk her to the bathroom, cracked a joke or two when Alex asked to help take off her clothes, grinned when Alex pulled out the extra fluffy towels they had picked up a few weekends ago and set them on the radiator to warm while they were in the bath.

For a while they relaxed in silence, Maggie sitting between Alex’s legs, her head resting on Alex’s shoulders while Alex ran her fingers through Maggie’s hair.

“My dad wrote,” Maggie said, her voice quiet.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“What? No, Maggie, never. You’re—god, you’re one of the best people I know.”

“That’s not true. You know Supergirl.”

“Yeah, well Supergirl never gives me the last slice of pizza, and you always offer to share.”

Maggie snorted, shaking her head against Alex’s shoulder. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean? Because honestly, Maggie, you are one of the most caring people I know. I—you’ve made me better. And not just by helping me to come out,” she clarified, anticipating Maggie’s objection that anyone could’ve done that with enough perseverance or bluntness. “You’ve made me rethink some of those things I assumed I knew. You helped me to see aliens who weren’t just like my sister as people who needed protection, not just prosecution or imprisonment. You showed me possibilities for a life I never thought I’d have.”

“But you didn’t say anything about my family. People have died, Alex—people I loved, people who loved me. They died, and I didn’t know.”

“There’s a difference between choosing not to know and never having been told.”

“Is there? Phones exist. Hell, mail exists. I never tried reaching out.”

“You did nothing wrong!” Alex tried to bite back her anger, knowing that wasn’t what Maggie needed. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. But self-preservation, knowing to take care of yourself—that matters too. You had no way of knowing how they would react if you tried to reach out. They had already hurt you, Maggie.”

“Still. They’re family.”

“And so am I, but if I hurt you—god, Maggie, if I hurt you that way, I wouldn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything. You don’t owe anyone your forgiveness.” Trying to find words, Alex let out a sigh of frustration. “You did try, Maggie. Think about it that way. You tried—you invited your dad to our bridal shower, in part because I wasn’t thinking quite clearly. I thought…I could only think in terms of my own relationship with my mother. And we went through some rough, rough periods, but it was different. I didn’t see that clearly then. But you gave him a chance he didn’t deserve—a chance you were good and pure and kind enough to give him—and he threw it away.”

“He came.”

“Yes, and he left.”

“I know,” Maggie huffed. “And I thought that would be it! And if it was…well, maybe this would all be easier, you know? God, I just—he said no! He doesn’t want me the way I am. So why won’t he stop acting like it’s my fault?”

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted, her voice barely a whisper as she wrapped her arms around Maggie. “I really don’t. And I don’t—I don’t have the perfect advice to offer. I’m happy to call him and yell at him, or get a restraining order, or burn the letter, or ignore it entirely and hold you, or kiss you until you can’t think about anything else. I mean, whatever you want, you know? I’m here for you, and I’ll support you no matter what you choose.”

“Even if I choose vegan ice cream and a whole night of Rizzoli and Isles?” Maggie teased, opting to ignore the tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

“Even both of those terrible choices.”

“You love Rizzles just as much as I do.”

“You’re a cop! How do you deal with all the procedural violations?”

“I watch for the hot ladies with delightful romantic chemistry on my screen and put up with the rest.”

“Yeah, yeah. They don’t even get to make out, though.”

“Neither do half of the actual gay couples on television!”

“Fine,” Alex whined, though she kissed Maggie’s cheek anyway, which led Maggie to turn around, finding Alex’s lips with her own and letting herself be held, letting herself be cared for.

Eventually they got out of the tub, the water having grown lukewarm. Wrapped up in a fuzzy towel, Maggie nudged Alex with her shoulder. “You think it’s okay that I don’t try to reach out to him for Christmas?”

“I think that’s your decision, and you are allowed to celebrate however you want.”

“I mean…I want to celebrate by going sledding and destroying you in a snowball fight.”

“Whatever you want within reason,” Alex clarified, laughing at Maggie’s pout. “And maybe, just maybe, we can think about traveling somewhere cold for a vacation. Don’t see why we’d want to, though,” she added, winking at her fiancée.

“So cheesy movies and as much junk food as Kara can bring over? And maybe when she leaves you and I can find our own way to celebrate…”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

#ask me #anon #prompt fill #fanfic #cw homophobia #cw family abuse #cw depression #angst #hurt/comfort #sanvers #supergirl #maggie sawyer #alex danvers #kara danvers #holidays #maggie-centric #ao3feed

[1rmono]

100 Reasons to Love Kim Namjoon

today is my 3 year anniversary of loving namjoon and so here’s 100 reasons everyone should love him !!!!!!!

he gave up a stable future of studying and going to college (despite being so smart) to risk everything and pursue his dream of becoming a rapper

had to fight criticism for being an ‘idol’ rapper and struggled for years with his decision and identity

when he says he loves himself !!!!

never forget this cute tummy flash !!!!!!!!

he loves all his members so much sosososo much, he always puts them before himself 

WHEN HE’S LAUGHING REALLY HARD AND HE STARTS SEAL CLAPPING

that one time tae came to sleep next to namjoon and namjoon sleepily held tae’s hand and wouldn’t let go

his signature move when he takes his two index fingers and covers one of his eyes while looking deadass into the camera

HIS DOE SHAPED PRETTY CHOCOLATE BROWN EYES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

professional self-dragger, literally willingly drags his own ass

his mixtape release in 2015, every song was so important and deep and okay, it’s largely forgotten because of yoongi’s mixtape but it has so much emotion and meaning behind every song

he loveloveloves dogs !

literally has looked like the best thing the world has to offer no matter what rainbow ass hair color bighit sticks him with

that golden age when his hair was black when will that look come back from the war ://////////

you know that thing he does when he’s been rapping and suddenly breaks out into a smile and scrunches his nose and winks with one eye mmmmmmmmokay !!!!

his angry rap when his neck veins show because he’s literally putting his all into it

the way he looks in beanies !!!!!!!!! with one ear tucked in and the other sticking out

the mole on the left side right under his jawline 

the fact that he literally read books on philosophy for hyyh

THE WAY !!!!!!!!! HE LOOKS !!!!!!!!!!!! IN A SUIT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time his speaker wasn’t working and he yelled at it and it started to work, Legends Only

the fact that he isn’t afraid to try out weird kinds of fashion and won’t hear shit about it

has been known to support LGBT since 2012

THAT TIME BTS WERE IN ISAC IN 2015 AND HE WAS EVERY MEMBER’S HYPE MAN 

when he’s too lazy to wear contacts so he wears his thick black rimmed glasses :’(((((((((((

that time he had a wardrobe malfunction and had his whole shirt ripped off during that dance break and he did the whole performance holding up the sorry remains of his shirt 

the fact that kim namjoon invented dimples !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! no really he did

how he is literally incapable of doing a fan sign without making it a display of how much aegyo he can fit in any given span of time and then immediately be shy and embarrassed about it

6 feet tall, he is 6 feet tall also don’t forget that he is literally the eiffel tower because nothing is taller than 6 feet just sayin

that amazing and blessed time he had silver hair and my heart literally exploded !!!!!!!!!!!

HIS PRETTY PINK POUTY PLUSH PERFECT LIPS 

that time bts was doing rainism and he was the only one who didn’t know all the moves and messed up but pulled it off confidently in the end

he literally loves his mom so much i’m :’(((((((

HIS ALL BLACK OUTFITS AND THE WAY HE LOOKS WHEN HE WEARS ALL BLACK AND THE WAY ALL BLACK LOOKS ON HIM AND -

the fact that every time someone tells him to do a freestyle dance, it’s literally the same awkward robotic jerky dance with the failing arms and legs since 2013

when he tries to sing even though the members laugh at him

HE JUST WANTS TO CATCH CRABS FOR GOODNESS SAKE

his cute soft pretty pink knees :’))))))))))

in the fire era when he had that acorn haircut and pulled that shit off when will your fave ever

he reads, he has an IQ of 148, he was the nation’s top 1% in 5 subjects in high school, he -

his smile his beautiful glorious soft glowing stunning breathtaking smile that smile that you only have the privilege of seeing someone have one in a million times in your life, the kind of smile that could change the world

the way he looks in a choker the way he looks in a choker the way he looks in a chok-

okay !!!!!!!!!! but his cute squishy tiny nose so kissable n someone please bop it and pinch it and it’s soosososo cute 

the way he gets his hands inky and dirty every single fan sign every single darn one !!!!!!!!!!!! why are they dirty? what is he doing ?????

THE AUDACITY HE HAS TO WINK AND BITE LIPS AT CAMERAS THE SHEER AUDACITY

the way his arms look in sleeveless tops his arms !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the way he looks in snapbacks mmmmmmmmmmmm

that time on running man when everyone was supposed to have as many boxes as possible and he literally got his box snatched from his hands and he tripped over nothing he’s the dorkiest softest boy -

SAILORMON !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time he wore the army khakis and outfit and i just ://////// oh my god

his side profile his perfect gorgeous beautiful angelic side profile !!!!

his obsession with ryan and how happy he got when jimin got him a ryan cake for his birthday fkdsfhgfd

legs for days !!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time namjoon was a minion for halloween 

“I had to dance to survive in this cold, cruel world.”

his cute outfit in the baepsae dance practice video :((((((((((

he looks sosoososososo unbeliveably beautiful bare faced i just love him so much 

that time during the hyyh prologue shooting when all the members were piling onto him and he yelled ‘MY BALLS, MAN’

his fucnkgn !!!!!!!!!! puma photoshoot binch !!!!!!!!!!!

the fact that he sang expensive girl and took the fact that he didn’t get a grammy for it like a man :///

that time they won their first award in 2015 and he was cleARLY CRYING but denied it like “i’m not crying”

THAT TIME HE LITERALLY DESCRIBED HIS ERECTION ON LIVE RADIO AIR IN ENGLISH 

that one time !!!!!!!!!!!!!! bts had an outdoor performance and his white shirt got sososososooso sweaty it was basically stuck to him and see through if you don’t know what i’m talking about then goodbye

those RARE times when he smiles and sticks his tongue out at the same time !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time he was complaining about jungkook and the fruit flies and the weird as shit way he pronounced ‘vaccuum’

his messy friendship with jackson 

the fact that he apologized for the mistakes he has made in the past and made no excuses about them 

award for having the world’s cutest and flattest tushy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i don’t know if anyone noticed but the way he holds his fingers when he’s explaining something like he puts them in awkward bent angles and they’re really long and expressive i just looooovvveeeee

that time he was doing a duet with this female singer for a show and he picked her up from the airport and held a sign with her name and got shy around her he’s the biggest gentleman DDDD:

deep husky voice like shots of pure liquid gold sends shivers down my spine ://////////

 KIM DAILY

that time he held a tiny itty bitty baby frog on his index finger i dont know why it was so cute of him i just !!!

sweaty namjoon when namjoon sweats the sweat namjoon produces 

that time he tried to twerk but ‘something keeps dangling’

when !!!!!!!!!! he wears tight pants and his thighs are almost bursting out of his pants jdfkkhkj

the way he says ‘baby’

EVERY ‘WHAT AM I TO YOU’ PERFORMANCE HE’S EVER DONE

that time he was asked to pick between solo and bts and didn’t hesitate for a microsecond before saying bts

THAT TIME NAMJOON DID THIS GUITAR ACOUSTIC WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND HE RAPPED SO SWEETLY MY HEART OVERFLOWED

taught himself english by listening to 10 english dvds 10 times over 3 years 

special thank you to every namjoon stylist who made him wear low cut shirts

THE WAY HE LOOKS WEARING A MASSIVE HOODIE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

‘and i’m sexy like a porn star’

accepts and settles for being the least popular bts member

the way he looks when he wears headbands 

when his sleeves are super long so he has sweater paws and his pretty fingers stick out slightly jdsfkshgkjfmncvb

sub par body rolls that can still make you squirm and cry :////////

once when he was the first in a lineup in a fan sign he told a fan ‘now you’ve practiced on me, you can do this in front of your real bias’

got to write in “힙합하다 1” (‘This is Hip Hop 1: South Korea, Hip Hop and Life’) which is a hip hop book for 42 top korean hip hop artists

THAT TINY MOLE BELOW HIS BOTTOM LIP THAT YOU CAN ONLY SEE IF HE SMILES REALLY WIDE

the way he looks in a tie ohohohoohohoho my gosh !!!!!!!!!!!!!

that time in the ariport the cameraman said ‘the girls love you guys’ and namjoon was like ‘thanks, we love you too’

the way he wrote about the sunset in his diary when he went to dubai 

HE HAS BENDY ARMS !!!!!!!!! NO REALLY I SWEAR THEY BEND BACKWARDS 

he once told a fan ‘sorry’ when she told him she got him photocard

he said that he wanted to know what it was like going to college and sometimes he feels like he missed out on that experience :///

can you believe namjoon invented having pretty hands??????? Amazing

he cares sosooso much about other people he’s always wondering how his fans are doing, what they feel like, always giving advice, always learning and growing, never stopping

“I’m still existing, still breathing. Even though I keep looking forward and run, sometimes I still look back. The path in front and behind are still far, but even so, if the people who look at me are still dreaming and picking up their strengths, that alone makes me feel good. It’s okay to live this way, breaking down, getting hurt and looking back at the past. I will live. I am living like this. Me. Us.”

#anyway the only reason this list isnt longer is because i didn't have any more time ://///// #rapmon-net #kim namjoon #networkbangtan #namjoon #rap monster #bangtan #bts #personal #3yearswithnamjoon #IM GOING TO SLEEP NOW BUT ILL BE BACK !!!!