#they’re just going to judge you for not having a fucking six pack

[awsydawnarts]

I hate you weight loss ads I hate you packaging that prominently displays calorie content I hate you menus that don’t show how much something costs but instead show the calories I hate you magazines that blast weight loss strategies in your face I hate you influencers promoting detox teas I hate how the world is so unfriendly to people recovering from EDs who are just trying to get through their everyday life without being reminded about it under the guise of a “fitness girlie” lifestyle

#tw eating disorders #tw disordered eating #I’m fine btw mutuals don’t worry it’s fine #I just get so frustrated with how all the fitness lifestyle crap that’s so popular today has created this environment where it’s so easy to #develop orthorexia #one minute you think that the world is getting better about this shit but then one of those fitness girlies pops up and you realize we’re #still doing the same stuff just packaging it differently #I recently performed coffee in my schools nutcracker and i would almost argue that my mindset going into it about my body was WORSE than it #would have been 10 years ago bcs yeah now no ones going to SAY that you’re supposed to be thin #they’re just going to judge you for not having a fucking six pack #bcs it’s just so easy and it’s this cute quirky lifestyle that you can just achieve #and it’s so healthy #it’s good for you #i don’t think the fact that I wound up doing ab workouts every day for a month was super healthy thanks #and all the stuff I mentioned above was so fucking unhelpful #I’m just going about my day not worrying about whether I’m going to hit this fitness goal and then bam some food is in my face telling me #how many calories it has and how it’s so HEALTHY #when that wasn’t something that was on my radar AT ALL at the moment #anyway #getting off my soapbox now thanks #mine

[dlavend3r]

Got an idea for a fic abt Adam!!

Adam is the all narcissistic person that he is feeling a bit... Self-concious about his weight? He thinks he's too.. Fat? Which he really doesn't like because, to his own standards, he's the hottest guy to ever exist, being firest man and all. And him not being all buff/skinny as he was in Eden, really.. It affects his mental health. The only person he feels okay talking about this with is his best friend, the reader! Just an idea, tho, and it can be an Adam x Reader or just those two being really close besties, lol. The reader could be that one friend in a friend group that is the therapist.

Like I said, juuust an idea ^^

Tysm for the request! I hope you enjoy it 🌙. Don’t forget my requests are open!

Self conscious! Adam x reader

Recently Adams been feeling down. Down on himself, down on his appearance. Oh especially his appearance. His the man, the first dick. He’s supposed to be the idolized man. Big, tall and buff. Not…. Whatever he is now. Anytime Adam has to look at his body all he think is how he let himself go. How chubby he’s gotten. How it doesn’t look right for his image. The big dog image.

Adam doesn’t feel like he can be the man, the first dick unless he’s perfect. From top to bottom. All he ever did was workout, but it never made a difference. Well not in his eyes. He can see that he can do more, that he can do better. And even if he did workout he’d just relapse on the routine, which made him hate himself more. He wanted this certain image that he couldn’t achieve. It all comes in circle. Adam sees a way to improve himself but his self destructive nature breaks it and makes hate himself to where he needs yo improve himself more only to fall into a loop over and over again.

Adam knew he needed to talk to someone. He had to but he couldn’t. That was until he met you. He saw how easy it was for him to be him around you. You didn’t judge him, you listened. And not listened because you needed to, you listened to him because you wanted to. This has made your relationship with Adam grew closer. He felt like he can be himself with you, and that you wouldn’t judge. You know you wouldn’t judge him, and he knew that as well.

“I just…. I have to be this chad you know. How would it look for my image that the first man, the first ever dick isn’t some fucking big buff dude. That he looks like a fucking discord moderator” He said to you, “I look like I have a fucking e kitten waiting for me to pay them for feet pics. That’s not me, I don’t want to pay for feet pics…. Unless they’re hot I mean obviously. But I don’t want to be known as a feet man. I want to be know as a big dick man, you see what I mean” Adam finished his rant with a loud ass slurp from his drink.

You nodded as you listen, “I mean there’s nothing wrong with being…. A discord moderator, or well. There is in some way but the way you look doesn’t really matter. Do you want my honest opinion?” You asked him. Adam nodded, “straight honest, no fucking sugar coating anything. Does it look like I can be on 600 pound life?”

“No Adam. You look amazing. Yes you’ve gain some chub, but hey a very well fed man is a powerful man. In the past, if you were chubby than that means you are powerful and you rule. Do you want to rule? Do you want to be the big powerful man you are?” You asked him, “fuck yeah I do!” Adam said in return, “than don’t change anything, you’re already powerful, having your own team of exterminators, being the first man. That’s some pretty powerful shit. Your voice is always heard. You are amazing the way you are Adam. If you want to work out, go do that than. But don’t sit here and judge yourself because you ate well, or because you don’t have a six pack anymore. You are amazing Adam. Inside and out”

Adam sat there astonished, the speech you gave hit him. It wasn’t ‘I Have A Dream’ good but it was good nether less. “Thank you” Adam said. Your speech didn’t clear his self consciousness but it did help him see things from a different perspective. He was so focused on the negatives that he just needed to see it from a different side.

“You’re amazing you know that.” Adam said to you, “I know” you answered as you gave a smile back. “I know you know that.” Adam said back.

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #Adam x fem reader #adam x male reader #Adam x gen reader #hazbin hotel

[steddieas-shegoes]

For the requests: werewolf steve and his pack. (I don't want them to call Steve 'mom')

My love, ask and you shall receive! This is still super different from my usual, so hopefully it’s okay. I didn’t edit this, but I know you’ll be kind of there’s mistakes ❤️❤️😘😘 Accidental wolf Eddie? Is that a trope? I’m making it one. Welcome to the party accidental wolf Eddie! - Mickala ❤️

———————————-

Steve was running late. He was never late.

Robin was pacing back and forth, staying in her human form so she could yell at him before shifting.

The kids had all shifted, nervous about doing so without their leader here, but feeling the itch. Robin sent them to Skull Rock already, not wanting them to be around when she tore Steve apart.

Deep down, she knew it was a good reason. Steve wouldn’t have been late if it wasn’t for an emergency.

But she was still mad at him for not trying to call them if he knew he was going to be late. He knew how the kids panicked if he wasn’t exactly where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be.

Especially since Billy.

Six months wasn’t enough time for them to move on, and even though Steve was going better, his wolf form still showed every scar from the interaction. It was tough for all of them to see, but they dealt with it.

Robin’s head perked up when she heard tires in the distance.

That better be Steve.

The hardest part of having “wolf tendencies” as they all jokingly called it, was the ridiculously good hearing they had in both forms. Robin could hear a pin drop from half a mile away. It proved to be pretty fucking distracting at school.

She could hear Steve’s footsteps coming through the woods, not running, but walking at a brisk pace, like he knew he was in trouble.

He wasn’t hurt then, at least.

Now she wouldn’t feel so bad yelling at him.

When Steve appeared though, he had someone with him. How had she missed the other footsteps?

She recognized him immediately as the school “freak”, Eddie Munson.

She never called him that, didn’t even know the guy really, but he was definitely odd.

She wouldn’t judge though. In fact, she needed to hear this explanation before she started in on Steve.

“Nice of you to show up.”

Okay, so she couldn’t help letting him know she was upset immediately.

“You weren’t kidding she’d be pissed,” Eddie mumbled.

“Yeah, she’s pissed,” Robin said as she crossed her arms. “Why is he here?”

Steve sighed.

“Sorry, where’s everyone?”

“I sent them out already. They’re worried. I’ve been worried.”

Steve looked to Eddie and gestured for him to speak.

“Okay, so this is kinda my fault. I was having a bit of a…uh…wolf problem? And Steve was there.”

A wolf problem. Eddie Munson had a wolf problem.

“What wolf problem could you have possibly had?”

Steve and Eddie shared a look. What the hell was happening?

“Uh. I turned into one?”

“Right. We do that? Like, often?”

“Well, I didn’t before today.”

Robin froze.

Normally, the first shift happened by your tenth birthday, sometimes earlier. It was almost unheard of for anyone’s first shift to happen after 13. So the fact that Eddie was 20 years old and just shifting made Robin concerned.

“Wait, never?”

“Never.”

“You’re sure?”

“Am I sure I’ve never become a werewolf before? Yeah, pretty fuckin’ sure.”

Steve snorted, but Robin sent him a glare.

“So, how did Steve get involved?”

“I was on my way here and saw him stumbling on the side of the road. I kind of panicked because he looked hurt. Pulled over, he was whimpering, I calmed him down so he could shift back.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Hurt my leg when I shifted. But it’s better now. Steve got me ice on the way here.”

Robin looked at the blush on Steve’s face, at the way Eddie was nervously playing with his rings.

“Oh my god.”

They both looked at her with those stupid Bambi eyes.

“You can’t be serious, Steve.”

“What?”

Eddie was inching closer to Steve, watching Robin and Steve talk.

“We don’t even know him! You welcomed him to the pack? He didn’t even know what a pack was an hour ago!”

“He can learn! Plus, he knows Dustin and Mike. He can’t be alone, you know how bad that is for us.”

“But now he’s your responsibility! Don’t you have enough kids to take care of?”

“He’s not a kid! He just needs someone to help him a little at first and then he’ll be just as valuable as all of us.”

“Jesus, Steve. You can’t let a stupid crush join the pack just because you feel bad. What happens when he doesn’t feel the same way? Think about what happened with Nancy.”

Steve felt his heart stop. Eddie let out a growl as he wrapped a hand around Steve’s waist.

Robin backed up immediately.

“Shit. He imprinted on you, didn’t he?”

“Robs.”

“Steve, this is dangerous. No offense to Eddie, I’m sure he’s nice and could maybe be pack someday, but this isn’t good. The kids won’t want to share you like this.”

“The kids or you?”

Robin looked down.

“Both.”

Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie, whispered something to him, then pulled away.

He walked up to Robin, pulling her into a hug.

“Robs, he’s not replacing any of you. That’s the point of a pack, we all have different roles but they’re all just as important. Don’t you think the kids were worried about the same thing when you joined?”

“I just don’t want you to forget that we all need you.”

“I won’t. We all have to help Eddie, okay? Not just me.”

“But he imprinted on you, Steve. That’s really serious. That never happens.”

“I know. It’ll be okay, though. We should go to the kids so they don’t come looking,” Steve said with a kiss against the top of her head.

Robin pulled away and walked over to Eddie, who looked like he wanted to cry.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Eddie nodded.

“You don’t have to be. We’re a family and now you’re part of it, okay?” Robin smiled at him, pulling him into a hug.

Steve nodded towards the direction they needed to walk, smiling at both of them.

It didn’t take long to get to where the kids were, all of them pacing in their wolf forms.

Robin went behind the rock to shift, still nervous to do so in front of everyone. Steve turned to Eddie before he did anything else.

“You don’t have to shift again if you don’t want to. But I need to, and we’ll probably all go for a run. If you wanna stay here, we don’t go far and we don’t go for long.”

“I wanna go.”

Steve smiled.

“Then let’s go.” He kissed Eddie’s forehead and smirked when his pack all let out huffs of air. “Ignore them, they’ll be fine.”

—————-

Shifting back to human was always a shock, but never as much as when they all did it together.

“Why the hell is Eddie here?” Dustin yelled as he threw his clothes on quickly.

“Language!” Steve yelled as he touched Eddie’s face, took a quick inventory of his breathing and overall mood. “Eds? Doing okay?”

“Yeah. Stomach hurts.”

“That’s normal the first few times. Just take a deep breath and let it out slow.”

“Steve! Why is Eddie here?” Mike asked.

All the kids surrounded them, Robin standing to the side with Max, helping her braid her hair again.

“Guys, he needs a minute.” Steve ignored them all, pulling Eddie close to him so he could relax against his shoulder. “Today was his first shift and he imprinted.”

“On you?!” Mike yelled.

“Mike, if you can’t chill out, then you need to leave.”

“Oh my god. You made him pack already, didn’t you?”

Steve ignored them still, his focus entirely on Eddie, busy helping him get his clothes on.

Steve kissed his forehead and turned to the group of kids with their mouths open.

“Holy shit.” They all said at once.

“I’ll answer your questions later. Eddie’s had a rough day, and he needs to get to a place where he can rest safely. You all remember how exhausted you were after your first shift. And you expected it. Eddie didn’t. Give him space.”

“But.”

“No buts. Robin’s gonna get you all home and we’ll talk tomorrow. But yes, Eddie’s pack, which means we all take care of him. This isn’t up for discussion.”

Luckily, the kids didn’t argue, and Robin was quick to follow Steve’s instructions.

Eddie was shaking in his arms, but he was still focusing on breathing, and letting Steve help him through it.

“You’re doing amazing, Eds.”

“This gets better?”

“It gets easier. It helps being part of a pack like ours, too.”

“They don’t want me here,” Eddie sounded sad, his body slumping completely into Steve’s side.

“Honey, that’s not it. They’re just used to it being us. They did the same with Robin.”

“I want them to like me.”

“You already know Dustin and Mike do. They’re just surprised is all. Everyone will love you.”

———————

Steve was right.

The next day, Eddie was woken up by all of the kids jumping on him and Steve in Steve’s bed, but he didn’t mind.

They all cuddled around them, Dustin claiming the small space between them.

Steve explained how he found Eddie, Eddie explained what he was feeling.

He explained how he felt with the imprint on Steve, how he felt slight panic the moment Steve started to separate from him. How it helped to be invited into the pack, but he still felt a pull to him.

That he didn’t realize this was even possible for him and as far as he knew, no one in his family were werewolves.

But much to Steve’s delight, the kids welcomed him with open arms. Literally. They all pulled him into a group hug and told him they were happy he was here.

Robin sat at the end of the bed, smiling at Steve.

She thought about how he’d been telling her only a week ago that he felt like their pack wasn’t complete, that it felt like a piece was missing.

But it looks like he found the piece. They all did.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #the party #werewolves but not a/b/o #request #ficlet #shirt and sweet #and not edited in the least

[kimnjss]

[ part seven of a new series called: ‘clips with context’ - feel free to request your own! ]

>>

BACKSEAT BUSINESS

jungkook picked you from the crowd with one thing in mind. and he can’t wait to get started, no matter who’s around. // explicit. requested. 1.8k words

warnings: cursing, dirty talk, fingering, slight exhibitionism, taehyung knows exactly what he’s doing, mentions of oral (m. receiving), a smidge of angst at the end... jungkook is spoiled and entitled.

+ this is the first thing i’ve written in like a month, so if it’s trash go easy on me... i need to get used to writing again lmao

“kook's always gotta find a girl,” yoongi says with a roll of his eyes, words falling on deaf ears as the other six guys chat loudly about who's going in what car. plucked from the crowd toward the end of the show, you had no idea that the singer had spotted you. just assumed the extra time he was spending near your section was pure coincidence. imagine your shock when security was escorting you backstage.

he barely spoke when you were presented to him, just gave you a once over before waving off the man that had brought you. he's dropping his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the couch in the middle of the room. you're tucked into his side the entire time they stand around talking. he's not listening and you're too starstruck to chime in. although, you wouldn't have much to say on the topic.

they were deciding car sharing arrangements from the sound of it. the seven gorgeous men you had watched dance and sing their hearts out on stage, stood right in front of you, paying you no mind.

jungkook sits lazily spread out on the couch as if they're not discussing him not even ten feet away. the tips of his fingers have started drawing light patterns against your naked shoulder, causing goosebumps to lift. his words come as a whisper against your ear: “you look so good in your little dress...” middle finger tracing the hem of it for emphasis. “i can't wait to take you home with me,”

 he notices the flush that rises on your cheeks at the end of his words., a smirk playing on his lips as he leans down. his lips are soft, warm against the clammy skin of your neck. at first, he lands light kisses on your skin – testing the waters... then all of a sudden his tongue is pushing out, rolling over a very specific spot before he's sucking that bit of skin past his teeth. you're letting out a gasp in surprise, hand shooting down to clutch his thigh as your eyes widen.

the sound pulls taehyung's attention. it's the first time he's looked at you and yes, he's just as intimidating up close. not a hint of what he's thinking is behind his stare and it has a thump of anxiety growing in your chest. you're just about to start full-on squirming when the corners of his lips lift into a small smile. “i'll ride with them, then. i don't mind.” he says with a shrug and as if that had been the dilemma all along, they're packing up to leave.

all jungkook had done, up til now, was kiss your neck a bit... honestly, you've done a lot more than simple necking – but by the time you're settling the backseat of the tinted window car, you're basically panting. he makes a show of waving off his fans, shouting promises of returning for another show.

as a fan, you're giddy to know that sometime soon they'd be coming back to perform again. as the girl seated beside him, waiting to be felt up – you were quickly growing annoyed... and impatient with his drawn out goodbye. he must sense that the moment he's rolling his window back up because he doesn't waste any time with crowding you.

one large hand laid flat on the center of your stomach while the other pushes your hair on the way, making room for the wet kisses he drags across your skin. it's hard to keep quiet with the way his skilled mouth works. love bites placed so deliberately there's no way you're able to fight the soft hums that fall from your lips. even with the full knowledge that kim taehyung is sat right next to you. like right next to you, his thigh pressed against yours as he manspreads... you could smell his cologne for crying out loud!

taehyung's sole focus is his phone, paying no mind to the way his bandmate pulls your legs apart or the way he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. as if it's far from the first time something like this has happened. and that's when it's clicking in your mind. this isn't the first time this has happened. it's routine, he didn't spot you in the crowd and have this unbearable need to be close to you.

he wasn't going to fall in love with you either. he simply wanted you and he was jeon jungkook, he got what he wanted. and as odd as it was, something about that turned you on even more. he wanted you. out of the ninety thousand people he could've chosen from, he chose you. for the night of course, but you were willing to take what you could get.

you're so lost in the fantasies and scenarios you're whipping up in your head, you don't even register the way he's pulled your legs apart. not until you're feeling the nudge of his fingers against your heat through the fabric of your panties. “make those pretty sounds for me,”

he's pushing your panties to the side, just enough for his fingers to reach through and brush against your exposed slit. the moan you let out isn't even all that loud, yet it catches the attention of the man seated beside you. tae tries to be subtle with the way he watches, holding his phone up as if that's where his focus is. it's obvious that's not the case and something about him watching you has a rush of excitement pooling between your legs.

jungkook chuckles fingers making their way to your now dripping hole. he doesn't say much else, eyes on you as he slowly pushes a finger through. and then another. he's moving at an agonizingly slow pace, enjoying the way you squirm beneath him desperate for more. “you're squeezing me so tight... can't wait to fuck you open.” lips pressed to your ear as he speaks, pulling a desperate whine from your lips.

“jungkook, please...” legs spreading wider for him as your hips grind down into his palm. he's grinning, eyes flickering to the man next to you before he's picking up the pace of his fingers. fucking into you at such a rapid pace, you're not even able to contain the squeal that falls from your lips.

his thumb lifts to meet your clit, circling roughly against it with each thrust of his fingers. he can tell you're close to falling apart, from the way you grip his shirt and the untimed twitch of your hips. “think you can handle one more, baby?” mouth lazily tugging on your earlobe as he speaks.

and you're nodding frantically, spreading your legs wider for him paying no mind to the way your knee knocks against taehyung's thigh. “such a good girl. can't wait to feel you cum all over my dick. you want that too, huh?” three fingers pushed into the knuckle while his thumb slowly rolls your clit underneath it.

he's making you feel so good, you'd agree to anything at this point. which is why you're agreeing to his words instantly, begging him not to wait that long, to make you cum now. and he takes you up on that, pulling his fingers back before quickly pushing forward. the snap of his wrist has enough force behind it to make your hips hit against the seats.

urging you to cum with each push of his fingers, reaching deep enough to just barely brush up against that rough patch of skin inside of you. he doesn't let up on the circle on your clit, adding more pleasure and it's only a few moments until you feel yourself unraveling completely.

your orgasm washes over you entirely, head lulling back while you let out a gasped scream. legs shaking and fingers wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. chanting jumbled syllables that are meant to be his name, judging from the laugh he lets out you're not even slightly close to making sense.

jungkook only pulls his fingers down once you've calmed down completely, lifting the wet digits to show off how your juices glisten in the dim light. and then he's pushing them into his mouth, sucking your taste from them while humming softly. you're watching him, not being able to pull your attention from the way his tongue moves.

you barely register the way he leans down to press his lips to yours, not until the taste of you fills your own mouth. but, just as you're about to kiss him back, he's pulling away. dark eyes drinking you in before he's leaning back against the seats, hands moving toward the buttons of his jeans.

“get down and suck me off,” you're shooting him with a wide gaze, eyes shifting over to where taehyung sits, fake watching the same tiktok on his phone for the tenth time. jungkook follows your gaze, laughs softly before he's dropping his stare back onto you, forehead resting on your temple. “he's not even looking,”

the boner straining against his jeans says otherwise. sensing your hesitance, jungkook tries a different approach, lower lip pushing out to form a pout. the same pout you have saved on your phone over a thousand times. “but, i worked so hard today... don't i deserve a reward?” he's looking up at you through his lashes. “i'll fuck you so perfect when we get to the hotel,” heat pools between your legs at his words.

you make a mental note to end the weeks-long debate with your friends on who's the most spoiled out of the group. it's jungkook, hands down. the youngest in the biggest group in the world, of course, it was him. he expected the entire world to get down on their knees with a simple pout of his lips... which is exactly why you're lowering yourself onto the surprisingly soft car carpet.

--

he does, in fact, as he put it 'fuck you so perfect when you get to the hotel'. from the moment you're closing the door to well after two in the morning, he's inside you. tossing you around, holding you down... fucking you open until your body shakes with overstimulation. and then some more after that. 

he calls you baby, but you're sure it doesn't mean anything. just that he never bothered to get your name. even in the early hours of the morning when you're being woken up by his security guard, ready to escort you out. he tosses his phone in your direction, half awake and telling you to put your number in. you know he won't call as you type out the digits, but you're still giddy that he asked.

eyes still closed as you leave, not even bothering to muster a proper goodbye. and while for you, this night will be a story you tell the grandkids... you know it'll end up being just another blur in his wild rockstar life.

taglist: @agustdef @silentlyimpractical @gldnrecs @jaiuneamesolitaiire @preciouschimine @joonies-babyy @dee-ehn @aqtkookie @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta @seokjinslittledumpling @thecityrain @jeonsshadow @papichulo-knj @amour-quinn​ @bangtansbun @kooafraid @metaethically @miss-jupiter @tanumiki​ @yoongiofmine​ @princecalpal​ @iridescentstories​ @jikooksgirl19​ @mikrokosmicjoon​ @hqtetsurou​ @needingyou2​ @alterlovess​ @ladyarmanto​ @trinityxsope​ @myworldisgone11​ @yutaeminnie​ @yoooonie​ @peachy-tata​ @paolandotcom​ @strwberry-jam​ @certifiedcrazycatlady​ @hansolsrightnut​ @btsbangtanbois​ @rlynotme​ @morseszn​ @codeinebelle​ @rjsmochii​ @joontopia​ @knjkitten​ @tae165​ @chocobetterknot​ @ggukkieland​ @v3nti​ @kelitt​ @taejinminsu​

taglist: @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @hobiheavenly @pjmcth @morndas @letmebreathepls @stcrwhiz @bangtan-noona @hopeworldjimin @betysotelo18 @lilacdreams-00 @prdshobi @yeontanie21 @ayyyocee @beeeb05 @todorokiskitten @arya-di-angelo @illwritetomorrow @filmtae @daesstuff @sungieshines @wildly-lost-lantern @ephyra1230 @hellotherehoneybee @mochibabycakes @lowlifeoeuvre @kookoo-kachoo @marifujioka @bombardia @veronawrites @ambersaesthetics @hisunshiine @sw33tnight @agustdakasuga @strawberryforever25 @my-current-mood-is @tatajoonie @getmemyfries @bluewhale52 @bangtansonyeondayyyum @munkey888 @simplymemyself​ @butterflylion @hopiebabie @taefect94 @dionysusrage @heyitsbreeeeee​ @hobiismyhopeu​ 

taglist: @xinyourdreamsx​ @giveortake​ @moonlitmyg​ @redluvletmain​ @niieceyy​ @xiaokoo​ @rageyoudamnednerd​ @bbyjoonies​ @marvelous-capsicle​ @daydreambrliever​ @hoefortaeshands​ @agustneeds​ @acc3ssdenied​ @ruinsofangels​ @bloomtilweache​ @jiminshibaby​ @dxlbts​ @missmadwoman​ @somewhereofftheglobe​ @parkjammys​ @salty-for-suga​ @scriptedhabits​ @tatasvoid​ @cozyboy-nee​ @thesweetest-peas​ @kkklaudiaaa17​ @booya--18​ @jooniesbanoonies​ @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa​ @narrylilomylove​ @iovemaze​ @tricethecharm​ @trynavibewhileicry​ @zxlummxxd​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @kuggnuj​ @embrace-themagic​ @namjoonsillegaldimple​ @uhgoodthings​ @jinhitwhore​ @pastelbleuet​ @ephyraaaa​ @joonni​ @elephantdoors​ @gemad08​ @tom-hollands-wife​ @neverthefirstchoice​ @soulstaes​

taglist: @diminieshoe @jayhope88 @ssweetsunflower @eatjeanjin​ @bigimpression @imadeyouamixtape88 @vantxx95 @bigbootyjoonie​ @serendipitysev​ @grakei​ @taesinferno​ @janieooo​ @kianam​ @h0babie​ @knjhe​ @neversickofyoongi​ @miriamxsworld​ @bangtan-niff​ @bloopkook​ @jeon-joker​ @dreamcatcherjiah​ @taeminkook​ @awhnamjoon​ @mono-moonchilds​ @ireallylikeyourwriting​ @daydreamingvibes11​ @taeyongsplug​ @nana-kjdream​ @lunars​  @bananadonut-blog​ @fairysunooo​ @moonchild-w-wings​ @limiworld​ @liquidnovocaine​ @kookiesspacebuns​ @jinbestboy​ @fangurl-ontgeside​ @kxdrawhl​ @rosedale99​ @jungkookbabyyyy​ @pjmbbygirl​ @yoongiwithglasses​ @taegix94​ @yoobikook​ @banqtanbby​ @sunashawty​ @maknaechu​ @taestycake​ @imcompletelyok​ @cityh0wl​ @goldenkookietaebae​ @megagrl​

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #idol!jungkook #idol au #bts #bts imagine #bts smut #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts jungkook

[seijorhi]

Unprofessional

as promised, the MSBY manager AU 💕 

MSBY Black Jackals x female reader

TW non-con, smut, gang-bang, nsfw(ish)

You second guess yourself, now that the Captain’s right here in front of you, fidgeting in your seat like a little kid sent to the principal’s office.

In all fairness, you were the one to ask him to come in early, figuring that it’d be easier to say what you needed to before everyone else arrived, rather than having it eat away at you while you waited for practice to end.

Yet under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, you wonder whether you should have just let it slide. At least for a few more weeks. Taking a formal complaint to the higher ups was a step too far, and you hadn’t wanted to bother the coaches this close to the start of the season for something so… trivial. Meian seemed like the better choice. He’d listen to you and be able to help; you trust the Captain and you know the team does, too. If he told them to back off, they would, you’re almost positive. But now that he’s here, there’s this nagging feeling of-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you flinch at the sudden contact, jerking back to the present. 

“Hey,” he says, a slight frown marring his features. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me - don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been a little out of it lately.”

There’s nothing but concern in his eyes - no judgement, or irritation, and something inside of you eases just a fraction. This is Meian, right from the moment you signed onto the team - granted, only a few months ago - he’s done his utmost to make sure you’ve felt welcomed and part of the team.

You take a breath, offering him a small, tight smile. “I-it’s um, some of the guys- well a few, I guess…” your fingers twist in your lap, and Meian squeezes your shoulder lightly in response. 

“Miya hitting on you, right? Getting a little outta hand?” he surmises. 

And for a split second, you’re surprised. But really maybe you shouldn’t be. Miya’s the one who’s overt about it, drawling stupid, cheesy pickup lines whenever you walk in, slinging an arm around your side and dragging you close, all the winks and the innuendos about as subtle as a tank.

Of course Meian noticed, but that’s just how Atsumu is. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it because nobody but you seems to mind. And maybe, if that’s all that it was, you’d be able to grin and bear it, but it’s not. 

“Yes and… no.”

His brows draw together. “No?”

Taking another deep breath, you begin to tell him everything. Miya’s incessant flirting, all the hugs and touches that fell just the wrong side of what you considered professional. They’re a tactile team, with one notable exception, and you understand that, but the way Bokuto, Hinata and Miya feel comfortable just grabbing you and dragging you around, interrupting you in the middle of whatever task you’re doing to make you pay attention to them is a little alarming. 

And then there was the incident last week, when Inunaki had caught you smiling at your phone during their cooldown and called you on it, which drew the attention of the rest of the team - only to have Bokuto snatch it out of your hands and start reading through your messages. Of course, Meian was there for that, putting a stop to it only when the wing-spiker had started reading them aloud, much to your mortification.

But he hadn’t been there two afternoons later, when an old friend of yours had swung by to pick you up and you’d had to deal with half the team glaring daggers at him over your shoulder like a pack of overprotective mother hens.

Even Sakusa, who usually kept his nose out of the others’ nonsense, stood off to the side with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, glowering at your friend until you both disappeared from sight.

The texts that blew up your phone in the hours that followed crossed so many lines, it honestly scared you a little. 

Meian doesn’t say a word as you talk, the words flowing easier the more you tell him. It’s not that anything they’re doing is wrong per se. They’re not hurting you, and you think that aside from Miya, the team’s attitude is coming from a good place - some protective, irritating big brother kind of thing. 

There’s nothing wrong with it, except the fact that you don’t want any part of it. You’re a professional and this is a job - a new one, an important one. If you ever want anybody to take your dreams of coaching a pro team seriously you cannot have so much as a whisper of anything less than absolute professionalism. God forbid, if rumours start spreading that you were sleeping with somebody on the team you can pretty much kiss your dreams goodbye. 

At the end of it, Meian’s chin is resting on his fist, faint dissatisfaction pinching at his face, and for a moment, you’re worried that he’s about to chew you out for wasting his time - you know he’s stressed with the start of the season only days away - but he only sighs, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“Thank you for telling me, I’ll talk to them.”

And it’s like this huge weight just falls off your shoulders and suddenly you can breathe easy. “Thanks, really,” you tell him, and the smile on your face is genuine this time.

“Anytime.”

—

You don’t know when he finds the time to pull them all aside, but the next morning when you walk into the gym and Bokuto catches sight of you, golden eyes widening in delight, he starts to bound towards you-

“Bokuto.”

-and stops mid-stride, face falling like a kicked puppy. His shoulders slump, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain, watching the both of you through narrowed eyes.

He doesn’t say another word to the wing-spiker, turning back around to continue his conversation with Adriah - something about tightening up their blocks before the game against the Adlers - and despite the fact you can see half the team’s attention drawn towards you both, none of them say a word either. 

It’s strange, compared to the last few weeks, it’s suddenly like you’re a ghost. They thank you when you pass them their towels and bottles, and for once Hinata sits still when you help him tape up his ankle, though his eyes still follow your every movement with unnerving focus.

They’re polite and respectful, but unless you’re directly addressing them or they need something, it’s like you don’t exist. 

Even Atsumu manages to keep his comments to himself when it comes time for the team to stretch out, though judging from the scowl on his face whenever he glances towards the Captain, he’s not particularly thrilled about it. 

There’s one more day before game day, and they’ve got bigger things to worry about, but for you it’s like you can suddenly breathe easy. You don’t have to tiptoe around your own discomfort, you can just do your job and help them. It’s not that you hate them, not even Atsumu - though he does grate on your nerves at times - you just can’t afford to let them fuck this up for you.

They’re your team, and you’ll help them and you’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer and support them until you’re red in the face. You’ll celebrate with them and commiserate if they lose, but there has to be a line. 

And maybe finally they’re realising that.

Meian sends you home while the others head off to the showers with a clap on your shoulder. “Go home. Today’s been long enough, and you need your rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You don’t fight him on it, already feeling the exhaustion creeping through your body. 

But after months in this job, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find that by the time you’ve had a quick catch-up with the coaches about tomorrow’s training, changed and gathered up your things, you find yourself falling into step with Sakusa, freshly showered and also on his way out. 

Dark eyes find yours, but he doesn’t say a word - at least until the two of you reach the big double doors at the gym’s entrance. “Do you need a lift home?”

It’s rare of him to offer, but you suppose that it’s later than you’d normally leave, the sun already disappearing beneath the horizon. Nevertheless, you shake your head, “No, it’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be okay,” you say. And almost as an afterthought you smile and add, “Thank you, though.”

He regards you silently for a moment, but simply shrugs his shoulders, “Fine.”

Sakusa turns to leave, heading off to the carpark when a sudden thought strikes you, and before you can think better of it, you call out to him, “Your lineshots were incredible today, by the way. You played well. And please don’t forget we’ve got an early start tomorrow!”

It’s a pointless statement, on both counts. Sakusa doesn’t crave praise the way some of his teammates do, and you can imagine how little it means coming from you of all people. He’s also the most punctual, usually the first in, preferring to get stretched and warmed up before the rest of the team arrived. But the change in plans was kind of last minute and a reminder never hurts.

Sakusa pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you once more over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear there’s something different in his eyes as he stares back at you. Not angry per se, but… you can’t quite put a finger on it. It’s odd, you think, out of character for the usually aloof spiker. “Captain told us.”

—

It’s still dark when you arrive at the gym, and the lights are all off, not a soul in sight. That in itself doesn’t strike you as odd though, checking your phone you see that there’s still twenty or so minutes until you were all supposed to meet, but you would have thought that the coaches at least would’ve been here, or Sakusa maybe, if not Meian.

“Mornin’ princess,” a familiar voice drawls, and you jump a little at the sudden weight of his arm draping over your shoulders.

Atsumu’s smile is far too wide and upbeat considering it’s only a little after six in the morning. You’re used to a dead-stare, don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-caffeine Atsumu, and it’s almost startling enough to make you forget the arm he has around you.

Either that, or you’re just bewildered that he’s actually arrived early for once in his life.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you mutter, trying to shove his arm off of you as you walk in tandem towards the gym. It’s a pointless endeavour - he replaces it a moment later, tugging you closer. “And early. Do you normally do this the day before the season starts, or can we expect to see you bright and early every morning for training?”

The corner of his lip quirks into a lazy smirk, and Atsumu laughs, “Nah, I’m actually late. All the others are already here.”

You’re halfway through fishing for the keys when he just pushes the door open, and you falter. “Wait- they’re here already?” you glance inside, and the lights are all still off and there’s not a soul in sight, but- “I thought Meian said we were meeting at 6:30.”

There’s something in the way that his smirk widens that’s almost unsettling, but he’s already pushing you forward, flicking on the lights as you pass.

“Oh, he did.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but it’s too early and you’re too tired to try and decipher Atsumu’s cryptic bullshit. He already has you on edge with how close he’s got you - you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne invading your nose. “Fine, whatever. Just- just put your stuff away, grab the others if they’re here and I’ll see you on the court in a few minutes.”

You try to shrug off his arm, but his grip only tightens, “Nope,” he says, firmly steering the both of you in the direction of the locker room.

“Miya,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut. You can already feel the beginnings of a headache taking root in your skull, but Atsumu just chuckles lightly, patting your shoulder. 

“Relax, wouldja? Jeeze, yer so tense!” 

With no other sound but the eerie echoing of your footsteps across the linoleum floors, his laugh is too loud, too grating. It sets you on edge, and you have to bite back a scowl of your own and remind yourself that you only have to put up with him a little longer - just until Meian gets here. Unperturbed by your silent irritation, Atsumu continues, “We know how hard you’ve been working lately. We came in early to say thank you, y’know, for everythin’ ya do for us.”

And for one split second, regret fills you, snuffing out the spark of irritation simmering through your veins. Here you are, seconds away from slapping the setter when he is - for the first time in his life - actually trying to do something nice for you. You sigh quietly, smoothing your expression over as he slows down and pulls you to a stop.

He lets you slide out from under his arm, your back to the locker room door, moving so that he’s standing directly in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but once again, Atsumu beats you to it. “Yer the best manager we’ve ever had.” He takes your hand in his, twining long fingers with yours and steps closer.

Too close.

“Atsu-”

“We really do care about you - love ya, even -  which is why it kinda felt like a kick in the balls when the Cap came and told us ya wanted some space. Said we were bein’ too ‘overbearing’ and ‘inappropriate’, just cause we want ya nice and close.” Dark eyes harden, “It hurt us, baby. You gotta realise that.”

The grip he has on your hand is painfully tight, but you don’t have a moment to focus on that. Not as Atsumu sweeps forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours. Hungry. Demanding. A tongue snaking between your lips, melding with your own.

His arm snakes behind you to open the door, and for a moment you’re stumbling backwards into the dark-

Only it’s not dark, not as the blinding fluorescent lights flicker on around you, and you’re not stumbling, not as you collide with a warm, muscular chest and strong arms find your middle to steady you. 

“You took too long,” Bokuto whines, and you’re yanked from Atsumu’s hold and spun, barely having a second to register the gleaming golden eyes before he’s dragging you into a needy kiss of his own.

Dizzy, lightheaded, your heart thumping erratically, you can’t think straight as his hot, wet mouth moves against yours. Greedy fingers grope and squeeze at your body - utterly frozen in shock, pliant under his touch. 

“Aw, quit yer whining, Bokkun,” the blonde growls as Bokuto finally pulls back enough to grant you a few precious gulps of air, gazing at you with a kind of love sick adoration that makes your stomach clench. 

A scoff sounds behind Bokuto, “A bit rich, coming from you, Miya. The two of you just are as bad as each other.”

It’s then that you realise the three of you aren’t alone. Wide eyed, on the edge of hyperventilating, you glance over your shoulder to find two pairs of eyes watching; russet eyes blown wide, enraptured, and swirling black depths, narrowed and glaring over at the blonde. 

Hinata and Sakusa.

It doesn’t feel real. Even with everything they’ve done so far, their possessive behaviour, their smothering affection - even the kisses, it feels like a fever dream. 

Even as Atsumu’s fingers are tugging your jacket off and Bokuto drags you forward, you can’t bring yourself to accept it, to properly fight back against it.

(Not that it would make a difference. They’re professional athletes, and there’s four of them against one of you.)

When your eyes fill with tears, Hinata’s there to brush them away, smiling down at you as he shrugs his own shirt off. “Don’t cry, angel. We’re gonna make you feel amazing, just wait!”

His words don’t fill you with ease. They can’t, not when he has that manic excitement bleeding through his expression - the same one you know he gets when he’s lost in the game, flying across the court like the laws of physics don’t apply to him. 

Hands are on you everywhere, teasing and exploring, too many to keep track of. Your clothes are pulled off, tossed aside and discarded without a second thought, and theirs follow suit. Fingers are tweaking your nipples and palming at your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your ass and trailing between your legs to play with your clit. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, ain’tcha? Our pretty girl, gonna be such a good little cockwhore for us.”

There’s lips against yours, at your neck, trailing down the column of your throat with a pleased hum. And between the kisses, you think that you’re crying, pleading for them to stop and let you go, but nobody listens as you’re manhandled onto one of the benches.

Your legs refuse to obey you, trembling as you try to kick out and wriggle away, only for rough hands to find your hips and drag you back. “C’mon, baby. Be good for us, you’ve already made us wait so long.”

Somebody smacks your ass and you jolt, crying out, only for a hand to soothe over the welt, another squeezing at your hip in a mockery of reassurance. “Don’t make us have to hurt ya, sweetheart.”

It’s easier, you think, to just close your eyes tight and pray that any second now, you’ll wake up in your bed to the blaring of your alarm. But the moment they flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as fingers dig into your thighs, warm breath ghosting across your sex, a low voice whispers in your ear, “Look at me.”

And you have no choice but to obey, forcing your eyes open to find Sakusa standing to your side, stroking his cock. It’s pretty, you distantly think, and you suppose that it suits him. Well groomed, long but not terribly thick with a slight curve, flushed pink at the tip and glistening with the pre-cum beading at his slit. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that feels out of place, considering the hunger burning in the black depths of his irises. 

He doesn’t say another word as he coaxes your mouth open and guides your head forward to take his cock into your mouth, but the low moan that escapes him as your lips wrap around his length makes you shiver. 

Sakusa isn’t gentle as he fucks your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as fresh tears well, but it’s hard to focus on that alone when Hinata’s face disappears between your legs, his tongue laving at your cunt, eager for a taste of you.

It doesn’t take long for the other two to join, and you’re manoeuvred between them, forced to sit on Bokuto’s lap, his thick cock stretching you out while Hinata sits between your legs, diligently slurping at your folds, sucking at your clit, one fist wrapped around his own length, lazily pumping it. Sakusa continues to use your mouth to get himself off, uttering backhanded praise between instructions, hissing in pleasure when he hits the back of your throat and you choke around him, while Atsumu has one hand playing with your tits, the other gripping yours, forcing you to jerk him off. 

It’s too much for your brain to take. 

Your sobs and whimpers, already muffled thanks to the cock in your mouth, are lost to the symphony of grunts and moans, lewd squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s too many hands touching you, too much pain fused with unwanted pleasure, overwhelming you as heat and panic and terror build up inside of you, and it feels like there’s an inferno burning beneath your skin, and you can’t breathe and you just want it all to stop, you want to wake up, and-

Suddenly, the door to the locker room snaps open, and all five of you freeze in place as the Captain stops dead in his tracks and eyes the scene before him. 

There’s no possible way for Meian to misconstrue it, not with everything you told him. Not with your face flushed and teary, your eyes glazed over and all but broken from the sick, twisted debasement his teammates have subjected you to. You’re naked, your body littered in love-bites and bruises, spread out before him like a feast.

And still, your eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to say something and stop this.

Meian takes a single step forward and a muffled whine leaves your lips as the cock inside of you twitches insistently. Sakusa draws his hips back, pulling himself free from your mouth, and despite the burn in the back of your throat, you swallow and try to speak.

“Please.” It’s little more than a squeak, hoarse and choked, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. 

The Captain barely acknowledges that you’ve spoken at all, his attention fixated instead on your body; the way your pussy’s clenching around the base of Bokuto’s length, the tremor of your thighs under Hinata’s rough hands, the way your tits rise and fall with every quickened breath, your lips, swollen and beautifully fucked, glistening with spit before finally, those dark eyes meet yours once more.

And slowly, a grin breaks across his face. “You’d better hurry it up, the others aren’t too far off.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere atsumu miya #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere hinata shouyo #yandere sakusa kiyoomi #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere hinata x reader #yandere sakusa x reader #tw non con #i honestly don't know how i feel about this one #but it's done #i hope y'all like it anyway #i'm posting it before i can overthink it

[semischarmed]

Inside

“Let me ask again- the FUCK do you think you’re doing!?”

I tremble in fear and stare in silence at the massive man in front of me, rank with the sweat of his daily session.

In my hands lay his used gym clothes, inches from my nose. My eyes widen. He was supposed to be showering. My eyes are drawn to the bar of soap among the pile in front of me. Shit. 

Fear becomes arousal when he leans down to my ear, tantalizingly close, and whispers. “If you wanted me inside you so bad, all you had to fucking do was assssk”. He draws that last word out with his teeth, lacing it with venom and seduction.

“Cmon, fucking say it faggot. Say you want me inside you” he taunts.

Ashamed. Terrified. Spellbound. He had reduced me to my most minuscule self. I reply meekly to answer him. “...I want you inside me.”

I hear the corners of his face widen into an unsettling smirk. “Good Answer”.

In the blink of an eye, he vanishes from in front of me, rushing past my side to my back before I can even react. Oh shit this is really happening. I am prepared for the night of my life. “Strip.” I comply.  I hear him make some movements and then... then... silence.

“What the hell?” I chuckle nervously as I look behind me in confusion and see his naked form crouching in a low squat with his hands clasped in a praying motion. I admire his massive sweaty muscles. He catches my gaze, looking up and giving me wink. I smile back awkwardly. “So-“

I am cut off by searing, unimaginable pain from the motion of him piercing my ass with his hands as he lunges toward me. Pound after pound of his thick arms shove up my asshole with so much force, he pushes me forward several feet. I stay still, breathing heavy for a few moments- not daring to look back- not daring to move an inch out of our precarious position. My mind races. “Shit. Shit. Shit. What was that!? God, was he ok?”

I finally muster the courage to look behind in horror. I could only see his shoulders. Shit. How is this even possible? God. Shit. I couldn’t see his head…he was probably dead- and judging by how far he pushed into me, I probably would be soon too. I whimper, tears streaming down my face, as recount my life and start fumbling for my phone. I felt sick to my stomach. How could this go so wrong? Every fucking time something good happens. Well… at least if I’m going out, I’m- My stomach churns. Wait. That... wasn’t my stomach. 

Impossibly, I felt worms squiggle inside me- no they weren’t worms. I dial in on the sensation. They were fingers. His Fingers. He was moving his fingers. I feel them claw at my throat from the inside. My mouth opens uncontrollably as his digging hands choke me from the inside, scrambling for a grip. I reach up trying in vain to get him to stop. Shit Shit Shit. As my consciousness begins to dip, the hands have finally found a patch of my flesh around my shoulder. I pant in momentary relief.

With each patch of my flesh they touch, I feel our nerves intertwine, tangling into each other until I myself could feel his fingers as a supplement to my own. What the hell was going on? Then, I feel him wrap his arms around more of my flesh and bundle more of our nerves together. Whatever this was, whatever he was doing, it was intentional.

He uses his arms as leverage and pulls the rest of his sweat-slick body inside, almost forcing my own to the ground. I fill up. Near-bursting. Impossibly full. As I stagger to stand, I watch from the mirror as he shimmies more and more of himself into me. I retch unprompted, dry heaving at what was occurring before my very eyes, but the motion only seemed to suck in his fleshy mass further inside me. Still, I couldn’t help but begin to get hard. Him being in here was hot as hell.  

I take shorter and shorter breaths, which again only slides more and more of him inside me, until the very last parts of him- his grimy toes- get slurped up in my asshole. My body wants to collapse from the strain of having to stretch to accommodate both our forms. Instead, I watch as his body is imprinted in my skin -near my stomach and chest, pulling me impossibly tight while he cemented himself in a fetal position. My legs begin to buckle from the pressure. 

Before I fall, he stretches out his legs out inside my skin, stacking his over my own. They are sticky when they slide over my bones and musculature, likely from the sweat he was aiming to wash off with his shower. As he fills into my skin, my toes are lifted off the ground as my body rises to accommodate his far-larger form. My very own body betrays its owner, as it is drawn to his legs over my own and he hastens the process by corralling my skin to realign to match his legs instead. I can only watch and feel in silence as I feel the skin covering my toes detach from myself and overlap over his. I feel pricks as our nerves entangle together. His legs then digests mine, inflating themselves from my added mass. My skin constricts in turn around his legs, crushing them from all sides. From the depths of my body, a moan in his voice escapes my still-hanging mouth. Skin constricts even tighter and I wince in anticipation from the pain. Instead, I am met with pleasure as nerves fire and I reconnect to my new legs. Oh my god. This was everything… I’ve never been this tall nor my legs this muscular. 

I wait in anticipation of his next move. His arms unfurl from their place, and I watch them slip over my shoulders. I look hungrily at my soon-to-be biceps. Yummy. This time, I put no resistance, as readily I allow his pythons to coil around my two stick-appendages. I give these arms of mine to him willingly, which he happily assimilates. Then, a massive tension in the skin of my arms, as they are forced to spread out, rocketed outwards from the mass of his flesh filling into them. By all accounts, it was uncomfortable, but knowing what was soon to come had overwritten any fear, any doubt, any discomfort I could ever have with lust. My arms were never buff, so watching him rearrange his arms to become mine makes me go lightheaded with an abundance of elation and desire. As his nerves join with mine, and I finally feel the strength inherent in my new arms, my head leans back from the sheer sensation of our parts being one. He flexes our new arm together, before caressing it over the imprint of his body still in my chest and stomach. This was a dream come true. Still… more to come.

I watch expectantly as the large mass of his head begins to travel up my neck. I prepare to accept my new self. I could want nothing more than to live as this god of a man as his new flesh. Before his head can reach me, however, I watch as the remainder of his body fill into mine, including that perky ass. My arms are helpless to my whim as he commands them himself. He smears my skin around the outline of his body, slotting his abs over my flat stomach, tracing their indents as they fill over, and giving me the exact very same six-pack I had always fantasized over. He pinches my nipples- holy shit- stretching them forward, before releasing. They rebound back, slotting into their rightfully place- right over his. They’re rock hard. 

When the bare outline of his forehead head begins to peek over my neck, I feel him flex our entire body. He tenses our entire form, forcing my skin to compress even tighter around him. He continues until I feel a pop in myself. I look down and see the results. I see his wavy hairs pierce and poke through my skin. The scene was bizarre. He was literally wearing me. Though it was my normally supple skin, it was dotted by the roughness of his hairs. When our pores align, I finally release some excess heat. The scent was immaculate. I sweated his sweat, emanated his scent. By all accounts, I am his body. There would be no turning back. In the continuing process, I feel his organs and blood rush into mine. He was I and I was him. We now shared the same insides. With his blood rushing through us, I felt invigorated. Fuck. God. This was what he felt like every fucking day. I happily invite his wellspring of strength and energy as my own. This is what I am going to be feeling like every day from now on. We could do a million pushups right now without breaking a sweat. With him driving me, we would be unstoppable. My trance is broken when I noticed my dick in disappointment, unchanged from the whole process.  

I licked my lips as his head finally slotted over mine. I screamed from the pain of my face being stretched out to accommodate both of ours. He had far better control of us and instead contorted my outer face into a crooked smile. He began panting and moaning as the force of my skin stuck our heads closer and closer together. At long last, I feel sweet release when some arbitrary barrier inside me breaks and a spark lights in me as his head accelerates and smashes into mine. I welcome him inside with open ‘arms’. ‘I want you inside me.’ 

He complies, greedily overlaying his very being into me. In all my memory, in all my thoughts, feelings, perversions, there he was and there he would be. I yield them all willingly, allowing him to become me, to transcend me. Our shared eyes close from the wealth of new identity he has captured as he and I become one. We would have each other in a way no one else ever could. It was beyond intimacy. With his tongue inside mine, he sticks it out of my face with a sneer. It’s a face I never made, but with our new selves, this just felt right. He guides them over my teeth. My jaw redefines itself on his terms, nose corrects itself to his shape. Altogether, he was wearing me as his own, comfortably taking and rearranging me to be a better vessel for him. Fuck did it feel good to be his outer shell. I think we both looked better like this- greater than the sum of our parts.

Dirty, lewd thoughts mix with my own as his personality bleeds into mine. I reflexively try to shake it off, but he is relentless. In his barrage of self into me, tears well in my face. Still… he continues to inject more and more of his self into me. And then... I finally let go. This felt good. Being his. Who’s to say if it was my thoughts on their own or our combined derangement, but the thought of him forever using me, forever being me? Sheer Fucking Ecstasy. This felt great. He subjugates my sense of self to forever be a part of him but I offer it willingly. Becoming me probably shaved a few years off him. Like my skin, He stretches my personality around his, further and further until we congeal into one. Goddamn. Fuck Yeah. This is fucking great. We lick our lips.

I feel a rush of confidence. The new me is brimming with it. We are alpha. My mouth and body move in a way that was alien to myself. He stands up straighter and cracks our neck, getting comfortable in our new form. We take our first real breath together as a new person, taking in more air than my old lungs had been used to. Amazing.

Then, his hormones rush through our body. Fuck. I feel an outpouring of raw, sexual energy. Our body steams up in the heat- look at me, who wouldn’t- and, before I could react further, he starts pumping my dick in manic glee. Fuck. As it stiffens, I hit my old body’s limit. Average. Our grin widens by his command. “Time for an upgrade, baby” I say with a jock-like inflection in my voice. It sounds immediately comfortable, self-assured, and it rolls off my new tongue naturally. It feels wholly unnatural. He speaks in a lower register than I normally do. Still I yield to him, trusting in my new owner and allowing his parts to coalesce into my vocal chords. A disturbing itch runs through my throat as our voices meld together but I know it’s for the best. This newer, hotter me needs a newer, hotter voice. We take a deep breath before roaring “FUUUUUCK YEAH! Muuuuch better!” in a voice that resembled a harmonius mix both of ours. 

The itch courses through the rest of my body as I allow him to fully wear the rest of me. He brings my head to face the new me in the mirror for a closeup giving another wink. Beautiful. I watch as my eyes water uncontrollably. His amber eyes then eclipse mine, and we blink away the tears. In my head, I feel his thick, wavy hair push out beside my own, as my old hair merge into his. In its place, we now wear a crown of his hair signifying my new place as royalty. He drags my now-vascular hand across our chin, pulling slightly while a bit of scruff grows where bare skin used to be. He quickly nods our new head in approval as more of my features contort to accommodate their new owner. Yeah. We were fucking hot.

Then, I feel his thick dick slot into mine, filling it out. Jesus fucking christ it was so big. It stretches me further and further, until I am hit by another wave of paralysis, until my skin snaps back into his, constricting weapon and sheath together. The sheer pressure merges them into one. Goddamn we were huge. Our shared tongue hangs from our open mouth, as we release a massive wave of cum. It rockets everywhere, covering me in my new, alpha seed. We sample a taste of our shared genetics. Fucking delicious. 

God we were so hot together. The feeling is surreal. There was nothing like it in the world. I was forever his. I am wrack in permanent pleasure from being us. He walks over to his old pile of clothes, putting them on. As they brush over my new body, I am flush with a sense of completeness. A perfect match.

---End---

Ok, Ok, so not as ‘light’ as I would have expected. I was gonna make something cute for Valentines day, but got sidetracked by... I mean... look at him.

#male possession #male shapeshift #male body suit #male transformation

[thefanficmonster]

A Little Childish

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: Corpse and Y/N go to visit Y/N’s parents for New Year’s. Corpse was promised good food, good company and A LOT of snow. Needless to say, the place didn’t disappoint - quite the contrary actually, it exceeded any and all expectations he had.

Requested by @waterflowersposts Hi there! Sorry for how long it took for this fic to be written :( I hope the final result makes up for the long wait! I also thought it would be appropriate to post it during the holiday season, so I hope you don’t mind. Hope you enjoy the read and I’m looking forward to hearing your feedback and any more requests you may have. Stay safe! Happy Holidays! Love, Vy ❤

I watch as Corpse is basically floating from one room into another in our shared apartment as he’s throwing random articles of clothing in his open suitcase. I have already packed my bags, knowing full well what the appropriate attire is for where we’re going.

I look away from my laptop when Corpse comes in for maybe the sixtieth time today, this time carrying a white tee causing me to chuckle. “Corpse, I know it’s very trademark for you, but the only way you’ll be wearing that when we get there is under a sweater for some extra warmth. I’m not looking forward to having my boyfriend freeze in my parent’s house.”

He smiles, looking at the shirt in his hands, and shakes his head, “Fine, guess I’ll do without it for a week or two.” He throws it in our room, not even bothering to check where it’ll land before he comes to sit down next to me on the couch, “Keep in mind, you have set my expectations pretty high up there. If I am not waist deep in snow the second we step off the plane, I’ll be disappointed.”

I give him a side glance, a smirk playing on my lips. Must say, taking on challenges you know you’re gonna win is the ultimate high-and-mighty feeling. “Honey, you’ve got a big snowstorm coming.”

                                                               *  *  *

All throughout our trip - I’m talking the drive to the airport AND the flight over - I have kept my eyes glued to Corpse, observing as his eyes sparkled more and more with each foot we got closer to our destination. He has told me the most snow he has seen was less than an inch and I immediately felt it was my duty to change that by introducing him to the magic of Canada - my home. My parents own a getaway cottage in the mountains of Calgary where we used to go every holiday season. My earliest memory is playing in the thigh-deep snow with my older sister and crying whenever our parents had to drag us back inside. 

The West Coast of the US was a rather odd surrounding for me, having grown up surrounded by snowy mountains, experiencing Christmas with no snow whatsoever was a true let down and underwhelming feeling. Since Corpse and I started dating about a month after Christmas time last year this will be our first time spending the holidays together and Corpse was more than enthusiastic to visit Canada when I mentioned how much I enjoyed my winters there. We couldn’t go for Christmas, but we’ll be there for New Year’s Eve and the first two weeks of 2021 and I am really excited. I have been dying to see my family that has actually expanded since the last time I visited - my sister has had yet another baby, making her and her husband parents of three very energetic toddlers. The six year old twins - Ashley and Alex - and the three year old Andrew. Or, as I like to call them: The 3 As.

I have warned Corpse about them like seven times despite the fact that he’s already familiar with their energy, convincing him that if that’s more than he can handle we’ve still got time to cancel the trip. He didn’t bat an eye though, each time telling me not to worry and focus my attention on reliving the moments I’ve missed so greatly instead of making sure he was having a good time.

“If you’re there...“ he said, “I’ll sure as hell be having a good time.“

One step out of the airport and he’s already mesmerized. His eyes are shiny reflecting the glow of the snow all around. It’s gonna be funny to see his reaction when he witnesses the real deal - the snow in the mountains. This compared to that is a pathetic excuse.

“I know it’s not waist-high, but that’s because they shovel it and melt it.“ He is looking around, not paying much mind to my words. The utter amazement and disbelief on his face just makes me want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. He’s simply adorable! I see fragments of the child in him swimming up to the surface in the form of temptation - temptation every kid feels when they see snow: Dive in and lose track of time. “Wait till we get to the cottage.“

This manages to catch his attention, “You weren’t kidding.“

I laugh at my precious kiddy boyfriend. “Whoa there, Corpsie. If your mind is already blown, I’m worried about how you’ll react to the real deal.“ 

I have a feeling I know exactly how he’ll react cause I react similarly - I set the child in me free. After all, no parent can tell you to stop playing and go inside when you are a 23-year-old.

                                                             *  *  *

Walking up to the cottage from the cable-car station has to be the first time I’ve breathed with my lungs’ full capacity in the last five years. The sharp cold air screams ‘home’ to me like nothing else ever did. I am still surprised as to how my sister prefers summer. My family jokes I’m a winter wolf in disguise and I think they’re right. I do like to roll around in the snow much like a wolf. No judgement! Having a few extra years added to my age doesn’t change everything.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.“ If I could take a shot every time Corpse has repeated this phrase I’d be dead due to liver failure. He is absolutely stunned. And I’m pretty sure he hasn’t blinked at all. Who am I to talk - I haven’t either. These mountains keep getting prettier and prettier, I swear. Taking my eyes off them would be a crime.

“Told you. I wish we made a bet, I could’ve made some easy money.“ I tease him, gently bumping my elbow against his as we walk up the trail.

“I’m glad I didn’t propose such a thing. That would’ve been fucking stupid of me.“ Judging by the tone of his voice, he is not really present in this conversation, so I decide not to let it go on any longer.

Not that I could’ve done differently, seeing as how barely three seconds latter I see three smiling faces coming at me at max speed.

Oh boy.

“Auntie Y/N!“ Ashley and Alex arrive first of course, wrapping their arms tightly around my waist. Little Andrew stumbles his way to me as quickly as a three year old possibly could.

Without wasting a second, I put my bags down and crouch so I can hug them properly. “Hi my babies! I haven’t seen you in so long.” Their hugging strength surprises me and warms my heart at the same time. The twins pull away, leaving room for the little duckling in a jacket two times his size and weight. “Hi Andrew! I nice to meet you! I’m auntie Y/N. Mommy and daddy have told you about me, haven’t they? If not I’ll kick their asses.”

“Y/N, I swear, I’ll tell Amy you’re teaching her kids swears at a very early age.“ Corpse says teasingly, stealing the attention from all four of us.

“She curses like a sailor, these kids probably know more swear words than I do.“ Ash and Alex run straight out of my grasp and to Corpse, proceeding to hug him around the waist as they did with me. They met Corpse when my sister and her husband Finn visited me back in the summer. They immediately fell in love with him. I specifically remember Alex telling me I have a ‘really cool boyfriend‘ and he only uses the word ‘cool‘ when he really likes something or someone. Corpse was honorably declared cool by Alex and that still warms my heart till this day.

“Hi guys, long time no see!“ He too crouches down to hug the little demons that immediately cling to him like koalas.

I scoop up the bundle of clothes with a face and stand up, balancing him on my hip. “Let’s attempt to get inside, shall we?” With my unoccupied arm I grab the handle of my suitcase.

Corpse nods and follows my lead, picking up the bags he also left in the snow. Ash and Alex bolt it back to the house while we struggle to follow, lowkey embarrassed by the pace we’re walking with.

Andrew struggles against me, reaching out towards Corpse. I look at them both apologetically. “You’ll meet Corpse when we get inside, darling. Chill out.”

“Y/N!“ My sister’s voice steals my attention. She emerges from the house, followed by the twins, a huge smile on her face. Her eyes land on Andrew who has calmed down is now resting his head on my shoulder sleepily, “Oh I’m so sorry about them, Y/N. I didn’t know they would charge at you the second you stepped foot on the property.“

Amy motions for me to give her her son but I hand her my suitcase instead. When she takes it I use my now freed arm to hug her as tightly as I possibly can with one arm and while balancing a baby on my chest. “It’s ok! I couldn’t have dreamed of a better welcoming.” I release, giving her a big smile.

She loses interest in me and goes to hug Corpse, taking a bag from him as well before giving him a hug. “Oh my God, Corpse, it feels like it’s been forever. I’m so glad to see you.”

“Happy to see you too, Amy.“ My sister has never liked a single guy I’ve dated. EVER. Corpse is the only one she warmed up to and that’s a huge deal to me. Corpse’s happiness when I told him that was something I’d pay to have filmed just so I can watch it every time I’m feeling down.

“Let’s get you both inside, you must be freez-“ She cuts herself off, rolling her eyes at me, “Of course, you’re not.“

I laugh and blow her a kiss as we keep carrying onward.

“Um, guys?“ Corpse’s voice makes me pause and turn around. He’s still standing in the same spot, looking- unsettled, I guess you could call it.

“What’s wrong?“ I walk over to him, taking his hand in mine.

His hand automatically gives mine a reassuring squeeze, “Nothing really, it’s just that...I’m meeting your parents for the first time and-...What if they don’t like me?”

I open my mouth to go off and start stating the obvious that they indeed won’t like him. They will LOVE him. It’s impossible not to love this man! But my sister beats me to it when it comes to stating the facts.

“Look, Corpse, they already love you. Heck, sometimes I feel like they have known Finn and you longer than they have known Y/N and I! They speak so highly of you and haven’t even met you - that should tell you more than enough about how they see you.“ She waves her hand towards the cottage, “Now walk in there and blow them away.“

Honestly, I’m glad Amy beat me to it. I couldn’t have said it better myself. 

And just like that, hand in hand, Andrew still in my other arm, we walk in.

                                                             *  *  *

Corpse is officially the main attraction, stealing the spotlight from Amy, Finn and I - something the three of us are incredibly thankful for. Amy was right with every word she said - my parents are absolutely in love with Corpse. Luckily for Finn and Amy, the 3 As are all over him as well. Especially Andrew. The second someone sets him down he just waddles his way over to Corpse who picks him up and settles him in his lap while he answers my parents’ questions. 

When the kids were finally talked into taking a nap, Corpse and I snuck out to have a little walk in the snow and, of course, take some pictures. I made it my personal goal to make as many artsy and aesthetic photos of him as possible. His favorite - a hand only pic of him holding a snowball - was my idea and I think I have never felt prouder of myself.

“I am definitely posting this one.“ He says, turning the phone so I can see the screen. I give it a quick glance, thinking he’s talking about the hand pic but do a double take when I realize it’s a picture of me that he has taken without my knowledge.

I actually look rather decent, so I give him a green light in the form of a big thumbs up, “As long as you post the hand one too.”

“Hey, Y/N!“ We look back at the house which isn’t far from where we are right now. Amy is hugging the jacket tightly around herself as she approaches us with fast steps. “You know where we haven’t been in like forever?“

I raise an eyebrow and shake my head as I rack through my brain trying to dig up what she’s referring to. It could literally be any place on this mountain!

“Hello! The Waterless Lake? Ring any bells?“

Oh...it sure does.

Brief explanation: it is a huge circular dip in the ground which fills with water when the snow melts and becomes a lake but empties by the time winter comes back around. That being said, when the snow is still not melted, it’s an absolute wonderland to play in. I suddenly remember all the barrel-rolling Amy and I did there as kids and feel really nostalgic.

“Oh God, yes! I miss that place!“ I say, snapping out of my reminiscing trance. “Let’s go while it’s still light enough.”

“Finn is making dinner right now, or trying to at least.“ She rolls her eyes, turning to Corpse, “But it’d be our pleasure if you tagged along, Corpse.“

Corpse shakes his head, “I’ll politely decline. You ladies can reminisce and chat in peace, while I’ll be helping Finn in the kitchen.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips before excusing himself, “Have fun!”

“You too!“ We call back to him in unison.

Amy gives me an amazed, wide-eyed look, “He can cook?”

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, smirking, “Oh, you have no idea.”

She laughs, linking arms with me as we begin walking our way to the Waterless Lake. The place probably has a different name or no name at all, but we named it that as kids and never told our parents where it was. It’s our spot, and it is very surprising Amy offered Corpse to accompany us there.

“Sis, you are very lucky. I hope you know that.“ She tightens the hold on my arm with hers, pulling us closer together.

“I tell myself that every time I look at him, Aims. I am fully aware.“ I say dreamily, recalling all the times I’ve spent with Corpse. Almost one full year and I could never imagine that year, nor the upcoming ones, without him.

                                                                *  *  *

Upon returning, we’re met with the most wholesome scene I have ever seen - Corpse and Finn are making snowmen with the 3 As. It seems like they’ve been at it for a while, considering there is an army of snowmen of different designs, shapes and sizes all at different spots throughout the perimeter of the clearing in front of the house.

“Oh dear Lord.“ Amy mumbles, “I had a feeling this would happen.“

The five snowman-builders don’t even acknowledge our presence when we approach them. Ashley and Alex are running around with Finn, looking for sticks to use as the snowmen’s limbs while Corpse is helping Andrew gather as much snow as possible for the body.

I don’t realize there’s a huge smile on my face up until the point I’m trying to say something. Nothing comes out, though. My words are being muffled by all the overwhelming emotions that have taken over - collapsing my senses. 

With a roll of her eyes, my sister opens the front door, taking a step into the house. The second the door opens, however, I get a whiff of the delicious smell coming from inside. Best guess, and probably the right one - this is Corpse’s doing. 

If I wasn’t already hungry, I sure as hell am now and I’m in no mood to be in that delicious food’s proximity without attacking it. 

“Come on, guys! Dinner time! Get your butts inside!“ I call out to them from the doorway.

Corpse turns to look at me with the sneakiest smirk I have ever seen. He narrows his eyes at me, “You have done the very thing you despise!”

It takes me approximately three seconds to connect the dots and scrunch up my face, picking up all the snow I can an forming it in a snow ball, throwing it at Corpse. Growing up doing this exact thing has given me great aim, therefore I hit Corpse square in the chest.

“Oh you’re so in for it now.“ He laughs, picking up snow to form his own snowball.

“Snowball fight!“ Ashley yells, ditching the sticks to make a snowball for herself.

“Oh no...“ I poke my head in the hallway just as a snowball hits my upper arm, “Aims, I need your help!“ 

Before Amy can respond, I run to take cover behind the nearest snowman that, luckily for me happens to be one of the larger ones. I hear Amy call out my name when she exits the house, followed by a surprised yelp from her when three snowballs hit her. “You are all dead!”

While she is fighting blood and fire (well, water really), I am making ammunition for us both to use. I’m on my eleventh snowball when snow showers me from above as though it has fallen from a tree branch.

“Hiding, I see.“ I am still in shock, hair and upper body covered in snow, when I hear Corpse’s taunting voice.

My vengeance instinct kicks in having me grab two snowballs and turn to throw them at him. To my dismay, he’s faster then me and doesn’t allow me to even get my arm at an angle where I could throw properly. Instead, he turns me back around and picks me up with ease, one arm wrapped around my waist, another grabbing two of my prepared snowballs from the ground.

“Let’s show them who the bosses are.“ I see him wink at me from the corner of my eye and it takes me little to no time to catch onto what he’s insinuating.

In short, with joined forces, we took out the opposite team in no time - like a true couple 😉

#corpse husband #corpse #husband #corpsehusband #corpse simp #corpse x y/n #corpse x reader #corpse x you #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse fic #corpse fluff #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x reader #corpse hands #corpse imagine #corpse imagines #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fluff #fluff #christmas #new year #holiday #holiday fluff #holiday fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[christinesficrecs]

A very long list of updated snowed in fic recs for @starsandmoony​ 💜

On my Way by Gia279 | 17.9K

Huge black paws smacked the window, followed by a fuzzy face smooshing up against it.

He scrambled over the gear shift, tipping into the passenger seat. Bear, he thought hysterically. It had to be a bear, a freaking bear.

A big pink tongue rolled out, lips pulling back as the creature panted.

I’ve got chills... They’re multiplying! by DropsOfAddiction | 12.3K | Explicit

Derek is literally wrapped around him, one heavy leg and one heavy arm pinning him tight to Derek‘s front.

Warm and steady breaths tickle the back of Stiles’ neck. He tries not to freak out and he wonders how he’s going to extract himself without waking Derek. He totally isn’t ready to face into this conversation.

Stiles stretches gently and Derek grumbles clutching him tighter in his sleep. Stiles tries not to yelp when Derek buries his face in the back of his neck.

Well fuck.

One Star Awake by zjofierose | 9.5K 

When Stiles gets stranded in the snow one dark and snowy night, he's in real danger. Fortunately, he gets rescued by a man on a horse.

Emergency Contact by bewarethesmirk | 1.2K

“Derek here hasn’t left your side,” the nurse coos, and Derek glares at her back. “You’re so lucky to have such an adoring husband.”

snow day by kellifer_fic | 8.3K

“It’s not a big deal. It just happens when I’m… cold,” Stiles offers, scratching gingerly at his head with a claw and then grimacing at it like it’s betraying him.

“Are you serious?”

“Hey, who are you to judge, wolfman?”

Your love warms me up by Smowkie | 1.2K

“At least it’s slowing down,” Stiles said, his lips slightly blue tinted and his teeth clacking.

“Yeah,” Derek said. Stiles had his arm hooked with Derek’s, and he was stumbling a little as they walked. “Come on, keep walking, keep warm.”

“Yeah, keep walking,” Stiles agreed.

Derek didn’t like how weak he sounded.

In the Dark Midwinter, Light by rhysiana | 3.7K | Mature

Really, Derek and Stiles being sent to an empty druid's cabin to fetch a book for Deaton and then getting snowed in could have gone so, so much worse.

it doesn't have to be a snowman by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren) | 4.9K

The Beacon Beans coffee shop is what Stiles would refer to as a lifesaver. They supply his dose of sugar whenever he needs it, they don't ask questions, and their hot chocolate is delicious.

And now they're running a snowman building competition where the grand prize would get him an entire year's worth of drinks. Really, all he needs is a partner to team up with. Only everyone else from the pack already seems to have paired up.

three words have never come easy by the_problem_with_stardust | 1.5K | Mature

If someone had told Derek five years ago that Stiles Stilinski would be the one living in a secluded cabin in the woods, Derek never would have believed them. Even now, he had a hard time reconciling his memories of Stiles as a high schooler with the young man who preferred the quiet found amongst the trees.

Whenever he’d inquired, Stiles had just smiled that enigmatic smile, so like Deaton or Morrell, and said something about being unable to think around the bustle of town.

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!” by  jadore_hale | 2.3K

“I’m sorry,” Stiles sighed heavily, coming back down to earth, “But when you woke me up this morning and said that we needed to go out into the woods and find the evil Snow Witch that brought this shit here, I thought that was your emotionally stunted way of saying come build a snowman with me.”

In The Arms of A Werewolf by  literaryoblivion | 9.2K

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Stiles is flabbergasted. How is this even possible? Werewolves he can take. Poisonous lizard creatures, sure. Once dead, now living creepy werewolf uncles, bit of a stretch but he can roll with it. Sacrificing ancient druids that masquerade as teachers, okay fine. But this?

An honest to god abominable snowman? In Beacon Hills, California no less?

Nope.

Winter Storm Stiles by  42hrb | 2K

Stiles isn’t looking forward to weathering his first snow storm on his own, then he meets a handsome stranger at the grocery store who might be able to help.

Find Me Sitting Fireside by  kaistrex (weishen) | 13.2K

With the news that an Alpha wants Beacon Hills for their own, Derek and Stiles are forced to attend a couples retreat at a ski resort to learn their enemy’s identity. However, the threat is the least of Derek’s problems when he’s expected to fake a relationship, share a bed and suffer through candlelit dinners with the man he’s secretly been in love with for the past four years.

Waiting for Winter by  Twice_Shy (notboldly) | 3.2K

Everyone had a soulmark, a special shape on their body that formed during childhood and was meant to lead each person to their soulmate.

Unfortunately, Derek’s soulmark is shaped like a snowflake, and that fact has been actively ruining his life since he was six years old.

world tilts by  wearing_tearing | 1.5K

The guy is gorgeous as hell, and Stiles kind of wishes he could stare at him forever.

He figures he deserves a treat after almost slipping to his death.

Wait, What? by  wangler | 5.3K

When a significant portion of the Beacon Hills Preserve ends up coated in three entire inches of snow, the pack looks into it. If by looking into it one means packing a bunch of garbage bags and huge Tupperware lids into the back of Stiles’ Jeep to go look for a decent sledding hill. Things go sideways, because of course they do.

A Very Sterek Christmas by  TobyRosetta | 13.5K

It’s actually snowing in Beacon Hills, and it’s got everyone out of whack. Out of the kindness of his own heart, Stiles decides to take some things up to the the old Hale Mansion for old Sourwolf himself. But when the storm kicks up and snows them both in, the night takes an interesting turn.

Blanketed by  got_the_bite | 3.3K

“Stiles, where are you?” Derek demands again. His voice is higher than usual Stiles notes.

“You would be such a nice tenor if you joined a choir,” Stiles thinks aloud.

But In Case I Stand One Little Chance by  mikkimouse | 8.6K

Stiles’s Jeep breaks down in the middle of the snowstorm. He’s rescued by his high school crush, and as the cherry on top, is trapped in a cabin with said crush until the roads clear.

Fuck his life.

Snow Flirting by thepsychicclam | 11,396

As Beacon Hills get pounded with foot after foot of snow, single dad Stiles can't quite keep up with his four year old, his job, and shoveling his driveway. Derek makes his teenage son shovel Stiles' walk, and that just leads to Derek helping Stiles out with a whole bunch of other tasks. That's okay with Derek, though, cause any chance to be with Stiles is okay with him.

Baby, It's Cold Outside by Jebiwonkenobi | 2,791

Beacon Hills has a snow storm. Totally-not-cuddling happens.

Come Fly With Me (Or Don't) by stilinskisparkles | 15,325

Stiles is overworked and stressed out when his flight home gets delayed due to copious amounts of snow. He finds entertainment with one Derek Hale, whom he hasn't seen since high school but really doesn't mind getting reacquainted with.

Especially when it turns out Derek is surprisingly hilarious and will reluctantly play snap with him. And can walk on his hands.

The Man in the Snow by mikkimouse | 15,894

Derek finds a young man injured in a ravine on the border of his ranch. That's strange enough, but the mystery only deepens when the young man wakes up without any memory of what he was doing out there.

Blizzard Boyfriend by literaryoblivion | 1,897

With a record-breaking snowstorm on the horizon, threatening a city shutdown for a few days, Stiles gets the bright idea to put an ad up on craigslist for someone to spend his snow days with that would be filled with cuddling, movies, alcohol, and potential makeouts or more.

It's a joke until someone responds.

and home before dark by verity | 3,175

The mystery of the absent Hale brother was hardly a mystery at all until he appeared at last, set on taking up residence out in the woods.

(In which Derek is a hedgewitch. With a cat.)

Let it snow! Let it snow! (but please let it stop eventually) by relenafanel | 19,123

Stiles grew up with his bedroom window overlooking Derek's bedroom, so when he returns home for the holidays he's surprised to find a stranger in his nerdy neighbour's bedroom.

Only, he's not much of a stranger.

It is Derek Hale, the guy who is going to be his new step brother, if the rumours are true.

Red Against the Snow by Ember | 34,219

Stiles is trapped for the holidays in the cabin of a strange man/hermit named Derek. A strangely friendly wolf befriends Stiles during his stay. It's up to the teenager to find out why Derek has secluded himself from society, what the feelings he's beginning to have means, and what the connection between the mysterious man and the mysterious black wolf is.

an exaltation of larks by llassah | 25,370

All Derek wants is to get through the lambing season with his body and spirit intact. He had thought that the blizzards would be the main danger, not a highborn omega with beautiful eyes and a stubborn streak.

The flamingo in the yard by Vendelin | 6,107

It isn't fair that Stiles needs to work Christmas, when his dad is on the other side of the country. Or that his really hot, next door neighbour is around for the holidays as well. Or that there's a power outage that makes things even worse. Or better.

(Fake) Winter Weather Brings Us Together by tylerfucklin (zimothy) | 10,535

So naked cuddling with Derek while suffering from hypothermia wasn't really on Stiles' to-do list for the week, but neither was that kiss--so who was Stiles to complain?

It's a Wild Pitch (But He's a Contact Hitter) by jettiebettie | 11,828

They're combating supernatural forces with blunt instruments now. Seems legit. As long as Stiles doesn't end up getting frostbite, he's willing to roll with it. Not that his friends have to worry about that. Fucking werewolves.

Abominable by Revenant | 20,277

Where Derek buys a secluded cabin halfway up a mountain, meets a yeti and falls in love with Stiles, but not necessarily in that order.

stilinski v. a. snowman | tumblr ficlet

This fic was inspired by this prompt: ‘we’re stuck in a log cabin overnight during a snowstorm bc of some stupid school team building exercise and it’s freEzing and I can’t sleep and you can hear me shivering in the next bed so you pick me up and dump in your bed and good grief you are hot in every sense of the word’ au

#sterek fics #ficrecs #snowed in #winter #winter fics #snowstorms #this is so long #🤦🏻‍♀️ #starsandmoony

[robininthelabyrinth]

What if nmy, jgy and lxc can hear each other thought after they became brother?

ao3

1

Lan Xichen was dreaming.

He dreamt that he was walking along a road, dust on his feet, a small pack on his back, and bruises on his face from where he’d fallen; it felt as if everyone was looking at him, gawking at him, every one of them acting as though they knew everything about him just by looking at him and he hated them –

Do not succumb to rage, Lan Xichen thought, the familiar rule popping into his mind at once.

Rage isn’t the problem, some part of his mind thought back at him. The problem is – why do you care what they think? They’re always going to think something.

They were judging him. How dare they judge him? He’d made something of himself, made himself smart and tricky and capable, but no one cared about that, they judged him, they sneered at him –

Sneering for no reason is prohibited.

Oh for – he just said that they were sneering for a reason.

He did not! The whole point of what he said was that they were sneering because they were unfairly judging him, Lan Xichen argued, and was momentarily amused at himself for arguing with himself in a dream. He would have to write down this dream in the morning and see if he could explore whatever internal strife within him was the cause. And that they weren’t worthy of judging him.

I thought ‘Arrogance is forbidden’?

Are you quoting Lan sect rules at me?

Excuse you both, he was trying to think here!

I’d say brooding rather than thinking.

Lan Xichen agreed with that. It really was mostly brooding, brooding on all the wrongs that had been done to him and paranoia against the whole world. Brooding and walking, walking and brooding –

Like a chicken.

He was not like a chicken. What the fuck. Who the fuck compared lusting for revenge to chickens?

I’m just saying, if you’re going to be brooding, you may as well have some eggs –

Lan Xichen woke up laughing. He still wasn’t sure what the meaning of the dream was, but he did meander down to Caiyi town in order to have some eggs.

He passed it off as a craving.

2

Lan Xichen knew from the first sight of the jingshi how this dream would go.

He would be walking, slowly and gravely, knowing already what he would find: the sight of Wangji kneeling in front of his mother’s house. Only six years old, too young to understand, and yet faced with such terrible loss.

He would go up to him and take him by the shoulder, seeking to comfort him, and he would turn and that would be when Lan Xichen would see his face – dead eyes vacant, blood spilling from his mouth, thirty-three whip marks tearing his back apart and yet that did not seem to be the greatest blow…

The dream never changed.

And so Lan Xichen walked.

He walked, slowly and gravely, and he saw little Wangji, and he –

He’s like a little figurine!

Lan Xichen paused. It was true, of course; he’d had that thought a dozen times before when thinking of his younger brother in his youth. Just not usually in this dream.

One of the expensive ones, his bizarre train of thought continued, utterly nonsensical. The ones you can only get in the shops in the city, all pudgy-faced and red-cheeked with eyes half the size of their face. I always thought those were dreadfully unrealistic.

Perhaps a little.

They’re scary is what they are, another part of his brain thought. Can we get to the part of the dream with all the blood instead?

Seriously?

At least he’s an adult when that happens.

Fair enough.

Wait, hold up, go back, since when am I scared of dolls? I’m not scared of dolls.

Neither was Lan Xichen.

Not dolls. Creepy unliving mannikins in the shape of dolls that are almost but not quite human, that move in stuttering motion that is almost but not quite right, that smile and look at you when they shouldn’t be able to move...

Huh. Apparently I am scared of dolls, the first part of his mind thought, bemused, and Lan Xichen agreed. He’d never known about that particular phobia of his before before, but now that he thought about it, it sounded pretty awful.

He really hoped such dolls wasn’t going to be making in appearance in this dream. It was bad enough as it was.

He sighed, and lifted his foot to continue walking.

Couldn’t you just not go up to him?

What?

That’s a good point. If you already know you’re dreaming, there’s no point in just walking through it.

But…Lan Xichen always went. It’s his brother!

Maybe it’s a creepy doll. Can you really tell the difference?

Wangji was not a creepy doll. How did they get on the subject of creepy dolls, anyway?

No idea. But it’s definitely about as stupid as chickens when it comes to stupid dream thoughts.

Great. Now Lan Wangji – sitting there in all his Lan white – has transmogrified into a chicken, plump with white feathers.

Lan Xichen hoped his subconscious was happy now.

No, this is great actually. No killing livestock within the Cloud Recesses, right?

What?

If he’s a chicken, he’s immune from –

Lan Xichen woke up out of sheer frustration.

(Still better than the usual dream, he supposed.)

3

He was walking through a forest, big loping steps that ate up the ground almost like a run. There were so many things to do, and never enough time to do it in – everything was always a rush, and only the dead had time to sleep.

He was walking through a forest, and the moon was big and bright above his head, shining a dull red in the night sky, a killing moon that boded ill. He could feel the pressure of it on his shoulders like a weight, like an extra presence that never left him; it was both friend and foe, loved and hated, for it would show him the way and rob him of it at the same time.

He was walking through a forest, and he wondered to himself why his dreams recently always featured so much fucking walking.

Oh, no, now you’ve ruined the mood, some part of Lan Xichen’s brain complained, and it might actually be him, come to think of it. I was enjoying that. We were going so fast, it was almost like running.

It wasn’t anything like running.

How did you manage to stop the dream, anyway? Some other part of him thought, sounding almost wistful. You barely got five steps into it before you were making unwarranted comments.

Lucid dreaming.

Was it the moon that gave it away? I’ve never seen it hang so low or so threatening.

It’s not a moon, it’s a metaphor.

All dreams are metaphors, really, Lan Xichen protested, but he was snickering. But also, hold up, look up a second – is it just me, or doesn’t it feel like the moon looking at us?

The moon doesn’t have eyes, the smart voice said immediately. It doesn’t have eyes, so it can’t be – okay, never mind, the moon is definitely looking at us. Also, it’s angry about it.

That was because it wasn’t a moon. He really wasn’t sure what was so hard to grasp about this.

The moon is growling at us! That’s pretty hard to grasp!

If this dream is lucid, can it be changed? Lan Xichen asked, trying to force his dream self to move or dodge or something without success. The moon was getting larger in a threatening sort of way that suggested that it was coming closer. Rapidly. A change would be good right now, really –

I don’t want to be eaten by a moon! I don’t want to be eaten by a fucking moon!

Stop saying it’s a fucking moon already! It’s not a moon! It’s just Baxia!

Lan Xichen opened his eyes and sat ramrod-straight up in bed in a single movement.

“Oh, no,” he said.

4

They met in Qinghe, which had the virtue of being Nie Mingjue’s sole domain in a way Gusu wasn’t yet, for Lan Xichen, and which Lanling was likely never to be for Jin Guangyao.

“All right,” Jin Guangyao declared, stalking in through the doors looking more upset than Lan Xichen had ever seen him. “Which one of you was responsible for the chicken comment?!”

Nie Mingjue coughed.

“I knew it!”

“I wasted a great deal of time on dream analysis after that,” Lan Xichen said, because apparently they were going to be discussing this rather serious issue  affecting both himself and his two sworn brothers in the stupidest way possible and he was oddly all right with that. “I even consulted Uncle.”

Nie Mingjue coughed again, except this time it sounded less embarrassed and more like he was (badly) trying to hide laughter.

Even Jin Guangyao stopped scowling and started having to fight a smile. “Really?” he asked. “You told – about the chickens?”

“He thought it suggested a desire to settle down,” Lan Xichen confessed.

“The man wants grand-nephews,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “You could dream of anything and he’d interpret it as wanting to settle down. Speaking of settling down, would you both like to do so? There’s calming tea.”

Qinghe had a very specific brand of tea they meant when they referred to ‘calming tea’, imported from the west and south for its reputed use in subduing even the most vicious temper, and it was most definitely not made of flowers. However, as mild intoxicants went, it didn’t have quite the same crippling effect on Lan Xichen as liquor, and he was happy to accept a cup.

“So,” Lan Xichen said after a while. “We’ve been sharing dreams.”

“It certainly appears that way,” Nie Mingjue agreed.

“How do we make it stop?” Jin Guangyao wanted to know.

“I don’t know how it started,” Lan Xichen said. “Much less how to make it stop. Unless this is familiar to either of you…?”

They both shook their heads.

“Could it have had something to do with the sworn brother ceremony?” Jin Guangyao suggested.

“Improbable,” Nie Mingjue said.

“There have been plenty of sworn brotherhoods throughout history,” Lan Xichen agreed. “Someone would have mentioned dream-sharing if it were a side effect, if only because it would be so useful.”

“Dream-sharing?” Nie Mingjue said, frowning. “That’s your problem?”

“It’s useful, but intrusive,” Jin Guangyao said. He was frowning, which he rarely did in public – or even in front of Nie Mingjue these days. The revelation had clearly shaken him deeply. “Dreams can’t be controlled. What if one of us started dreaming about, I don’t know, killing each other?”

“We would agree in advance not to take offense,” Lan Xichen assured him. “As you say, dreams cannot be controlled –”

“I don’t mind the dreams,” Nie Mingjue put in. “It’s hearing your thoughts that’s getting to me.”

They both turn to look at him.

“What?” he asked. “Oh, that hasn’t started for you two yet? Something to look forward to, because it’s a pain.”

5

They ultimately concluded that it was a curse.

A curse gone wrong, of course, but it had the markings of one, and after some research they were even able to narrow down to which one it must have been at the start.

“Why did it go so wrong?” Lan Xichen wondered, looking at the historical records they’d dug up in Qinghe’s library. “Whoever it was surely wasn’t planning on us having this sort of connection.”

“Baxia deflected it, I think,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen shared unnerved looks.

It was one thing to know that your sworn brother had a spiritual weapon to which his soul was tied and which he sometimes spoke of as if it were a person; it was yet another to feel that bond, the foreign energy that seeped into his skull at all times, to know that his lucid dreams were due to his persistent awareness of that extra being, to be able to sense the personality that was Baxia lingering on him like a ghost. Or a guai, more accurately.

“It must have happened during or very soon after we swore our oath,” Nie Mingjue continued, oblivious as always to their disquiet. “Our qi was in parallel at that time, binding us together, and she would have been able to spread the attack between us all.”

“The ultimate goal of something like this is to drive someone mad – specifically you, da-ge, since it seems to be hitting you first and hardest." Lan Xichen said, grimacing. And given the Nie sect’s infamous tendency towards qi deviations, they might have thought they could get away with it without anyone finding out…how utterly vile. “Whoever did it must have a great deal of hatred.”

“Or not a lot to lose,” Jin Guangyao said. His hands were gripped tightly behind his back, thumbs digging into his wrists. He seemed to be thinking the word vile, vile, vile on repeat – possibly he was agreeing? Lan Xichen couldn’t quite tell; the curse was affecting him a little more slowly than his two sworn brothers. “Desperate people do desperate things.”

Nie Mingjue looked up with a frown. “Meng Yao, what do –” he started to say, then frowned, having clearly been sidetracked. “You think it’s an insult when I call you that?”

Jin Guangyao, equally distracted, stared at him. “You mean it as a compliment?”

“I don’t exactly like your father,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, sounding a bit puzzled – which, in fairness, he had never been anything but extremely obvious about his disdain for Jin Guangshan. “Why would I think adding his name to yours is a good thing? I’d rather honor the side of your blood that gave you that brain, since it isn’t the Jin sect.”

Jin Guangyao looked flattered – or, no, he didn’t look anything, but Lan Xichen was getting that distinct impression from him nevertheless. It seemed he’d reached the sensing-feelings stage: Nie Mingjue felt a little embarrassed at the reaction, and they were both feeling warmer towards each other.

Maybe they should postpone curing this thing, Lan Xichen thought briefly. If it could help them repair –

“Absolutely not,” both of his sworn brothers said together.

“We’re fixing this at once,” Nie Mingjue insisted, glaring at Lan Xichen.

“Immediately,” Jin Guangyao agreed.

Lan Xichen made a gesture of surrender. “I already have some ideas on how to cure the problem,” he said. “I won’t drag my feet, I promise.”

“Good,” Jin Guangyao said. “I would kill to get rid of this.”

“Speaking of that,” Nie Mingjue said, and he looked like he was starting to get angry, “let’s go back to that discussion of desperate people and how you were thinking about how to kill me –”

6

Lan Xichen had always respected Nie Mingjue – as a man, as a leader, as a friend – but his respect had recently reached new heights when he realized exactly how much the man wanted to murder just about other every sect leader out there, and yet didn’t.

Baxia’s unstinting support for this idea didn’t exactly help.

Jin Guangyao – who Lan Xichen was discovering to be far more vicious than his pleasant smile might have suggested – found Nie Mingjue’s grudge-bearing pettiness to be absolutely hilarious.

What about that one? he asked gleefully. Do we want to kill him?

yesevilkilldestroy, Baxia murmured. doitnow.

Please do not murder Sect Leader Lu, Lan Xichen said. He didn’t think Nie Mingjue actually would, but he felt the need to put his views out there.

I don’t know, Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully. He tried to flirt with me once.

That’s not a crime –

I was ten.

killevildestroy

I’m with da-ge on this one, Jin Guangyao chimed in. Just murder them all. I can provide an alibi.

He could provide six, in fact, each one of them smoothly unrolling like crisp paper in their mutual mind-space – they’d figured out a way to get some privacy – and Nie Mingjue huffed a mental laugh even as Lan Xichen sighed.

It would just figure that his two sworn brothers liked each other much more now that they had access to each other’s secret vicious thoughts – thoughts Nie Mingjue would never act on, given his principles, to the point that Jin Guangyao had once doubted he even had them; thoughts that Jin Guangyao thought would disgust them both, but which Nie Mingjue seemed to rather enjoy as long as Jin Guangyao never took any steps to actually execute them.

What disasters they both were.

“No murder,” Lan Xichen said sternly, futilely trying to conceal the warmth of his affection for them both.

His uncle turned to frown at him. “Xichen?”

Lan Xichen realized he’d spoken aloud by accident and flushed. “Forgive me, Uncle. I was –”

Reciting Lan sect rules!

“– contemplating the obligation not to take lives unnecessarily,” Lan Xichen said, finishing the lie almost smoothly. He’d gotten much better at it ever since the curse began.

Somewhat worse at self-restraint, though, which was a problem because he was apparently the only one of them with a functioning moral compass – Nie Mingjue had principles, which were most emphatically not the same thing (the concept of unearned mercy seemed to puzzle him, as did sympathy for people forced by circumstance), and Jin Guangyao…

Well, he tried.

Sometimes.

Mostly he faked his way through it.

Which was about what Nie Mingjue apparently did most of the time, too, so…

Lan Qiren was giving Lan Xichen a doubtful look, but seemed to accept the explanation and returned to his own meditation. Which was Lan Xichen was supposed to be doing, but Nie Mingjue was dealing with some minor sect leaders in his district with accompanying commentary by Jin Guangyao (supposedly supervising something in Lanling but actually bored out of his mind), and it was just so much more interesting…

You can meditate later, Nie Mingjue thought at him. I appreciate your level-headedness – as do my advisors. I’ve been getting compliments on how well I’m keeping my temper.

Thank A-Yao for that, Lan Xichen said. He’s the sneaky one.

I am, Jin Guangyao said, utterly shameless. And da-ge’s the straightforward one who punched my father in the face.

They all had a collective moment of gleeful bliss at the memory.

Do not damage others, Lan Xichen finally reminded them, albeit reluctantly.

Do not keep company with evil, Nie Mingjue shot back.

Do not act impulsively!

Do not argue with your family, Jin Guangyao interjected. For it does not matter who wins.

…ouch.

He got you there, Nie Mingjue crowed. A-Yao – mark your words.

Yes, yes, Jin Guangyao grumbled. I acknowledge you both as my real family now; will you stop holding the attempted murder thing over my head?

No, never, since it was quite possibly the only way to squeeze any empathy out of his (charmingly) self-absorbed sworn brother.

Anyway, it turned out well in the end, didn’t it? Nie Mingjue added. He thought I hit him because it turned out that he’d instigated the curse to be set against us.

Only you would end up getting a confession out of punching someone, da-ge, Lan Xichen said, amused. It’s positively unfair to the rest of us.

Yeah, da-ge. Leave some luck for the rest of us.

You’re acting sect leader of Lanling in light of your father’s imprisonment, Nie Mingjue reminded Jin Guangyao. How much more luck do you need?

I got that through hard work, thank you.

killevilliesLIES

…I retract the statement and request that Baxia stop glaring at me. Please.

Nie Mingjue snickered.

Lan Xichen laughed.

“A-Huan,” his uncle said. “What on earth is so funny?”

Lying was forbidden, so Lan Xichen was just – not going to explain.

Ever.

#mdzs #lan xichen #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #troika #Anonymous

[shanastoryteller]

Questions about outlines: How detailed are they? Are they the same level of detail or do they vary? How do you make your outlines? Chronologically scene by scene? Or do you come up with the scenes that call you and then come up with smaller filler scenes to fill in the gaps? Do you have outlines for each chapter? Or just for the larger general plot points? Do you try to complete the outlying before starting the fic? Or do you add to the outline as you go? Sorry if this is to many at once

lmao okay i got several asks about outlines but i’m just going to answer this one because it’s ~comprehensive~

every writing teacher i’ve ever had has hated my outlines. my friends find them incomprehensible.

if people are going to look at my answers as ways to do their own outlines, i have to say: that’s probably not a good idea

i don’t write outlines a majority of the time

i don’t write outlines to plan a story i’ve already decided to write

i write outlines primarily as a way to exorcise story ideas that i want to write but don’t want to actually commit to writing (answer prompts are another way i do this lol)

now, some things do get outlines as a way to plan and organize. survival is a talent has an outline because it’s 400k and spans six years. child king had an outline. needy’s body had an outline. 

b u t

i’m currently writing rotten work without an outline

lynchpin didn’t have an outline

hope is the thing with feathers didn’t have an outline

never grow a wishbone only had an outline for the first couple of chapters 

an invincible summer didn’t get an outline until like. chapter 4 of 6. 

i just. uh. think about what i want to happen and then hope i remember to write it down. even when i do an outline, i’ll deviate from it wildly, and not update it to reflect that, because i know what i’m doing (ha!)

so! with that in mind, let’s go! 

How detailed are they? Are they the same level of detail or do they vary?

they vary! but honestly - not very. sometimes i’ll write out a paragraph or bits of dialogue that are important to me, but most of the time it’s just broad strokes of what i want to happen, or a mechanism of how something complicated happens. like i have several paragraphs in my siat outline dealing with necromancy books, but like. two sentences on how they actually occur in the story because that’s just something i’m trusting myself to figure out when i sit down to write it.  

 How do you make your outlines? Chronologically scene by scene? Or do you come up with the scenes that call you and then come up with smaller filler scenes to fill in the gaps? 

I try to put them chronologically, although sometimes that’s a little hard (in siat i have several scenes that i know will happen, i just don’t know when). that is something i will go back and edit on my outlines, is if i’ve changed the order the something happens i’ll go back and copy and paste until my outlines is in the right order. but only if the outlines is something i’m actually using to write and the story is longer than a couple of chapters. 

because my outlines are so very not detailed, i just write down what it is that i want to write, like the reason i’m going to write this or want to write this, and figure out the rest later. i’ll fill it in later - or i won’t! because most of the time i don’t use my outline to actually write the story, and i use it more as an idea list, so if i don’t know what happens between scenes or i find it boring i just won’t write it down

like, for example, here is my “outline” for won’t even plant a garden in it’s entirety 

weep as a woman

“you weep as a woman weeps.” “and how is that?” “as if the future rests on your hips, and you must walk it forward.”

crowley and eve were friends. cain killed abel with the flaming sword, and crowley begged them to say it was with a rock instead

crowley was raphael the painter and fucked michelangelo

crowley was there the night yeshua was born, was friends with mary, helped raise yeshua?

ghosts

crowley and anathema and joan of arc

i ended up dropping most of this and crowley ended up sleeping with both eve and yeshua as the major plot points. i don’t explain stuff, really. i know what i mean so i just don’t bother to get very detailed most of the time. 

Do you have outlines for each chapter? Or just for the larger general plot points?

siat i divide up by year, and i think i did it by chapter for the last two chapters of build your wings on the way down, but otherwise it’s just one long list. i do my chapters based on words counts rather than content, so outlining by chapter doesn’t really make sense for me (siat is always around 15k a chapter, and everything else  i do these days thats multi chapter is around 8k because that’s the best, but ngawb was 5k a chapter and i think for child king it was around 11k a chapter)

Do you try to complete the outlying before starting the fic? Or do you add to the outline as you go?

I’m constantly adding as a i go! my outlines are never really “complete” they’re just abandoned. i write down what i think will help me and tend to ignore the rest. sometimes i just. talking to myself in my outlines when i’m trying to think something through. 

my outline for child king is under the cut because that’s one that’s a good mix of stuff i kept and stuff i threw out. DON’T JUDGE ME!! bad ideas don’t get written because they’re bad!! it’s part of the ~process~ 

child king

Summary: “A child king is still a king,” Deaton says softly. “A child king is still a child,” he snaps, but he knows this is an argument he’s already lost.  – Stiles is a born alpha, and after the Hale fire, things get real complicated, real fast.

Stiles’s mom is the last remaining human from a pack that was destroyed by hunters. John is the one that helps her after, so he knows everything. When they move to beacon hills she doesn’t feel the need to say anything to the hale pack, because as far as they’re concerned she’s just a human, and she doesn’t want to get involved in pack business. But then stiles is born with red eyes. The doctor is quiet and scared john and Claudia freak out, but it’s because he’s a werewolf, which is a relief to parents because they thought something was wrong with their kid. Maybe they don’t know he’s an alpha, only that he’s a wolf? Or they know and they keep it a secret on purpose

Claudia is the one to approach mrs. Hale. She tells her that her son is a born werewolf, but that she’s not interested in joining their pack. Her husband is a new deputy and they just bought a house but they’ll move if they have to. “he’ll need a pack one day. It’s safer,” she says. “if he wants to join you one day, I won’t stop him. But that’s not a choice I’m willing to make for him.” Mrs hale agrees that they can say separate as in exchange for the sheriff smoothing over some ruffled feathers no and again. They agree. Claudia to sheriff “we’re going to have to move one day. Our son is an alpha, and he’ll need to make his own pack.”

Stiles is seven the first time he snarls at his mom, eyes flashing red, and she freezes. She’s got the pack instinct, it doesn’t matter that hes her kid, hes still her alpha, so its hella awkward. John can see how this will quickly spiral out of control if they can discipline their own kid. But stiles is the one to back down first, apologizing and doing as he’s told. There are careful power structures here, and this is the beginning of differentiating between stiles the human and stiles the wolf.

When his mom gets sick, stiles offers to turn her. Hale offers to turn her. She refused for Reasons that I have to figure out. Maybe the politics of it? Wanting to protect stiles and not wanting to become part of the hale pack

The fire happens. John ships stiles the hell out of dodge, because there are hunters about. He snoops around enough to figure out it was kate argent, but theres not really anything he can do about it

Scott knows about everything, and tries to tell his mom in a really akward way that they should trust stiles if they’re ever in danger, but she just laughs it off. Except when someone breaks in and threatens her with a gun, and she manages to make a phone call, it’s not 911, not john, but stiles, and she doesn’t even know why, regrets it as soon as it happens. But then stiles shows up and breaks both of the guys, eyes glowing red, and then calls his dad and scott to take care of it, because they’re humans, so they get human punishments. Melissa is told everything.

Scott has a bad asthma attack and, and Melissa asks about the bite. Scott is itching for it. He wants it so badly. Stiles has already promised to turn them when they turn 18, and Melissa knows that. She asks if theres a reason to wait, and the answer is nah, not really. So he gets the bite. Stiles being like uh psa punishments cant include scott staying away

After hale fire and stiles gets back, he’s shocked that hey just left, and that they left peter behind. He starts visiting peter several times a week. He tells his dad that they should pay for his medical care. They have a fuckton of money because his mom inherited all the pack wealth, and john doesn’t touch it because that’s stiles’s money, that’s werewolf money. But this is a werewolf thing, so he agrees. “his pack left him dad.”

Stiles bites Erica when they’re 14. Some point in middle school stiles wises up to the Isaac thing and tells his dad he needs to arrest his dad, or stiles is going to kill him, and he’s not even a little bit joking. Stiles hears Isaac crying while going by the house? In johns squad car. Makes them pull over, then bursts into the house. John goes with it because his son’s eyes are red.

Some point after the hales leave, things start trying to move into hale territory. Some wolves? Stiles smells them, and ends up at 10 years old telling them to fuck off. This how scott finds out? He’s with scott and his dad. Deaton is facing off against something? Panics when stiles intervenes, but stiles goes wolfy and red eyes and is like. This is mine now fuck off. Looks at the hale house, and finally says, we have to take care of this. We have to. But they don’t own the house or the land or any of it. They do … something

Stiles ends up having to deal with a lot of crap real young

Stiles has scott and Isaac when peter wakes up. Stiles is there, and peter isn’t crazy because he wasn’t abandoned to die alone. Stiles says he can stay, or he can go, not trying to pressure anything. Peter chooses to become part of stiles’s pack, because his family is either dead or abandoned him. Peter ends up moving in with them as he finishes healing and to get used to being in a pack and with stiles. It’s very strange for john, but it’s a werewolf thing and he’s trying to be supportive. After a couple months, stiles tells his dad that having peter is a relief, that there’s finally someone who knows things, someone older who can support him as a werewolf. Peter acts as his second, and he finally has some degree of authority that age has lost him. Stiles has peter take care of the hale house. Peter and stiles have the conversation, where peter is like the hale land is your land now. You’re the alpha of beacon hills. He does what stiles directs him to.

Isaac is living with scott under stiles’s direction ish. But lots of Melissa. Isaac like I don’t wantto be afraid anymore, I don’t want to hurt anymore, and stiles is like. Okay. We’ll fix this. But he doesn’t bite Isaac until he goes to a shitton of therapy and has mostly sorted himself out. For isaac’s fifteenth birthday, he bites him.

Erica is spur of the moment, it’s something that all instinct and very little thought. OR they’re dating and it happesn? Erica’s parents suck. Stiles doesn’t want the balancing act of being boyfriend and alpha.

Jackson is so fucking desperate to belong to something. He nags and nags and nags and finally stiles bites him at least half to shut him up.

“dad can I talk to you about something weird and uncomfortable and a little creepy” talks about crush on Lydia, and how he’s not sure if its because he has a crush on her or if it’s bc he thinks she’ll be good for the pack. Lydia joins before Jackson, and she’s the one that pushes stiles into it. Lydia and stiles are not dating, but she’s clearly high in the hiarchey.

Boyd? Just like. Shows up. Idk.

So by the time laura and derek show up, stiles’s pack is: john, Melissa, peter, Lydia, Jackson, danny, Isaac, boyd, Erica, deaton (who’s acting as emissary but is training danny). Maybe bring in some later characters, like malia and kira and cora. Ooooh maybe the twins show up before they became alphas, still run aways and looking for something else? Stiles takes them on. Stiles finds malia early on after the fire

Peter is willing to forgive derek but he has a lot of shit with laura. Stiles agrees to let laura and derek stay and not be part of his pack, although laura insists she doesn’t need his permission. She snaps at peter to come home with them, and he looks at her like she’s insane. He says there’s no hale pack, and if there was, he’s not interested. He’s a stillinkski wolf now. Cora too maybe? Double blow. Peter owns the hale land, and he makes it clear the day stiles turns 18 he’ll be signing it over to him. Stiles is known by the surrounding packs.

Stiles has to somehow defend the surrounding area, has to make it clear he’s his and that he’s not willing to give it up. It’s valuable land. People are going to come looking for it once people figure out it’s abandoned. When deaton finds out stiles is an alpha, he goes around as an emissary to the surrounding packs. Saying that its under stiles now. He’s known to them so it goes mostly uncontested. This is when he and the sheriff have the child king conversation.

Stiles tries really, really hard to be a good alpha. That means controlling the territory, and working with other packs when members go rouge or something goes wrong. He’s thirteen the first time he goes to lend a hand in a fight, and it’s young, it’s too young, but he’s an alpha. He has to do this, to maintain the peace. And the thing is – stiles is good at this, good at not pushing, at not using his status as a crutch or an excuse, instead as a tool.

Maybe this is why no one cares for laura’s excuses. As much as laura wasn’t ready to take on the responsibility, she was an adult, if only barely. Stiles is a literal child, and in her absence shouldered it all. So even if she does technically have a claim, none of them are willing to honor it. “if you kill alpha stiles, you won’t have allies, you’ll have enemies.”

Allison and argents. Stiles brings his pack to kill kate. Gives peter the chance to do it himself, and is so very proud when he says no. but instead of letting her go free, stiles crushes her throat. “revenge would have been trapping you all in here and setting the whole thing on fire. Justice would have been making you watch as she burned alive. This was mercy, and don’t you forget it.” Scott is hella in love with Allison, but he knows this comes first. Her mom is full of hatred, but stiles more than makes it clear that he has no problem with killing her too.

Stiles sees derek soon after. They’ve already gone back and forth a lot. But he and laura weren’t there. Stiles tells him what he did. They have a ~moment~

Derek wants so very much to join stiles’s pack, but he doesn’t want to lose laura.

Something finally convinces laura to take the plunge and the stillinksi pack is one happy family

#asks #anon #writing advice

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

[heytherejulietx]

white collar and leather

part one of five

series masterlist

↳ content warnings - swearing, mention of drugs, mention of weapons

↳ 2.2k word count

↳ masterlists

@bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @literarygetaway21 @justanotherkpopstanlol @firewhiskey-kisses @amberritonicole @mullysmyheart @3rrrr0r @bc-jh22 @tabberrss @thestaredown @bugheadsfangirl join my tag list

the rumble of the motorcycle underneath her was normal. the cool leather of her jacket against her skin was normal. the pressure of the helmet against her ears was normal. what wasn’t normal, was parking her bike in front of riverdale high in the north side. as much as she somewhat cared about her education, she’d much rather go to school literally anywhere else.

fuck this.

betty unclipped the clasp from underneath her chin and took her helmet off, shaking her head a little to loosen up her hair as she hung the helmet over the handlebars. she straightened up her jacket before she swung her leg over the bike to stand up, sighing as she looked up at the school.

for the town with pep this was probably the peppiest place that riverdale had to offer. riddled with annoying cheerleaders and noisy jocks and everything that betty pretty much despised about high school. at least at south-side high, everyone was too worried about getting stoned to bother her. now she actually had to face people. gross.

“cooper!”

betty turned her head, and leaned back against her bike as she spotted sweet pea walking over towards her, toni and fangs following shortly behind him. they were probably just about the only people she could actually tolerate. on a good day, anyways. sweet pea tended to get annoying a lot. although she had stayed at his place for the past few nights, which she appreciated. anything to get away from her trailer.

“you guys better get your pep on.” betty commented as they walked over and fangs snorted.

“can’t believe we actually have to go here, it’s bullshit.” sweet pea rolled his eyes and dropped the cigarette he was smoking on the ground, stepping on it afterwards.

“bullshit we’ll only have to put up with until we graduate.” betty pointed out as she pushed herself up from her bike, glancing over at the school with a sigh.

riverdale high was a completely different experience from south-side high. as soon as they walked in betty could see that, even just in the air. it was clean, and didn’t smell like weed. at least they wouldn’t be second hand smoking all day. it looked like it had just been renovated, honestly. none of the lights flickered constantly. the floor looked like it had been polished five seconds ago. none of the lockers had dents in or had been spray painted. and all of the students looked so… pristine. honestly, they looked like they were all about to walk into the set of some dumb teen drama. it was a joke.

everyone was looking at them strangely as they walked through the school. betty could feel them burning holes into the side of her head as she walked past, and she had to roll her eyes. it was like they had never seen other people before. before they could even get to the end of the first corridor the intercom crackled to life, and a voice traveled through the building. “will all new transfer students please come to the main hall.”

great. an assembly just for them.

“ten dollars we spend the next half an hour being told the dangers of gang activity in school.” toni scoffed, and betty chuckled as she looped her arm through the pink haired girl’s.

“i bet so.” betty nodded, catching the blue eyes of a boy staring at her down the hallway before she carried on to the main hall. she didn’t know where it was, though sweet pea seemed to have an idea of where it was so she just followed him.

toni was right, of course. they were lectured on all sorts of things for thirty minutes; drug use, fighting, weapons, even the indoctrination of other students into the gang. they had to be joking by the end. and if they weren’t then sweet pea and fangs must’ve been laughing over nothing. betty just wanted nothing more than to start her lessons and let the day go by as quickly as possible. as much as the south-side was a shit hole, she much preferred it to the north. at least there she wouldn’t be judged on her shitty life, and she could live said shitty life in peace.

when the principal had finally let them go, under a final warning to “behave like proud students of this school” she took a beeline for the exit and left quickly, promising to catch up with her friends at lunch. during the assembly of mostly patronising nonsense, something had caught her attention; the blue and gold, which was the school’s newspaper. when it had first been introduced, betty had run the red and black for a while, though with the lack of funding and minimal interest that students had in it betty stopped after a few months. though the blue and gold seemed promising, and maybe it would help make her experience at riverdale high a little more bearable.

when betty had finally found it’s office after five minutes of looking (seriously, this school was huge) she pushed the door open and stepped inside, honestly a little disappointed that someone else was there. she had been looking forward to spending her time there alone. the boy sat in the office turned to look at her, and she briefly remembered meeting his gaze earlier when he was staring at her.

sheesh, he looked like he was full of enough pep alright. the boy was almost too pristine. he was probably the epitome of “small town boy“, with a shirt and round-neck sweater, polished shoes, and small riverdale high badge pinned to his bag which sat on the desk. the only thing that stuck out was a grey beanie that sat atop his head, though even that screamed soft. he was adorable.

“oh, hi,” he smiled, obviously surprised to see her there. “what can i- how can i help?”

“your dumb principle mentioned the blue and gold being open to new members,” the boy blinked at her, obviously taken aback. though whether it was about the name-calling to the principal or her willingness to join the newspaper that she was uncertain of. “i’m interested.”

“oh,” he seemed to come to after a moment, and a smile covered his once bewildered expression. “great. yes. we’d gladly have you,” he nodded and stood up from his seat.

shit, she’d underestimated how tall he was. at least he had one thing going. he must’ve been six foot tall at least, and when he stepped out towards her she had to tilt her head up to look at him. at least he wasn’t as tall as sweet pea.

he held his hand out and smiled again. “nice to meet you.”

betty stared at him for a moment before she gripped his hand in return and shook it for a moment. “right. likewise.”

when she had pulled her hand away the boy nodded, and he opened his mouth to say something, though the bell ringing for the next class got to it first and cut him off.

“oh, well i’ll see you soon to sort out what times you can be here?” the boy asked, and betty nodded as she headed to the door.

“hey white collar?” she called back to him as she swung the door open, and his blue eyes met hers again across the room. “what’s your name?”

“jughead,” he responded after a moment, and if he was embarrassed at her entertained smile at his answer he didn’t show it. “what’s yours?”

“betty cooper.” she told him, and before he could say anything else she stepped out of the office and shut the door behind her. that was enough social interaction for one day, even if she’d be working with jughead every day now.

-

“so, what, you’re going to be working with her? alone?” veronica gasped, as she leaned across the table towards jughead. “what if she, like, has a knife on her or something? oh my god, what if she had drugs-“

“veronica, i highly doubt she has drugs.” jughead shook his head as he took another bite of his apple. the way that people were reacting to the south-side high students was mostly irrational, and it was getting a little annoying. he’d had to listen to reggie ranting about how he thought that one of the new students was going to kill him for an hour in his english class.

“some of them do. aren’t they all drug dealers? they’re in a gang.” she pointed out with a huff.

“none of them would be dumb enough to actually bring their drugs into school, even for lowlifes like themselves.” cheryl piped in from beside veronica. jughead wasn’t particularly friends with the redhead, but he tolerated her for veronica’s sake as they were on the cheer team together.

jughead found himself looking past the girls as veronica carried on about drugs, and found betty sat across the room. she was sat with another girl with pink hair, and two guys - one of them taller than the other. all four of them were wearing those gang jackets, though he could see the snake symbol from the jacket on the taller guy’s neck.

jughead didn’t believe that betty was dangerous by any means, but he was a little worried. there were a lot of rumours surrounding the south-side serpents, and it was hard to distinguish gossip from actual facts. were they really drug dealers? did they actually carry weapons on them? did the big guy sat next to betty actually kill someone? okay, jughead was less inclined to believe that one as it had come from reggie, but still. he was unsure on the situation, but there was nothing any of them could do. they’d just have to stick it out.

the rest of the day passed relatively quickly. in history jughead had to listen to a few cheerleaders giggling and fangirling over the taller serpent who had sat in front of them, and then in biology he had to put up with another thousand questions from veronica, though as soon as the bell went he managed to escape and headed to his locker quickly. as he was packing up his things betty passed him in the hallway with the tall guy again, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were dating.

jughead closed his locker as he shrugged his bag onto his shoulders before he made his way out of the building, and put his headphones in for the walk home. he took the long way back to his house, putting off what he knew was coming. his dad had been more annoyed by the south-side high students joining the school than anybody in his class, and he knew when he got home he’d have to hear it all over again. jughead had decided to not tell him about betty, at least not yet. he didn’t want to give his dad an aneurism or something.

his father’s car was in the driveway when he got home and jughead frowned as he unlocked the front door. he had been hoping that fp would be out of the house for whatever reason, so he could avoid the bombard of questions that was sure to come and just escape upstairs to his bedroom.

“jug? that you?” he heard from the kitchen, and jughead rolled his eyes as he shrugged his coat off. no, he wanted to say, it’s a stranger who somehow has a set of keys to the house.

though instead he called out “yeah.” and walked through to the kitchen, where he found his father sat at the table surrounded by paperwork and his laptop.

“those students all in school todsy, then?” fp asked, and jughead sighed as he took off his bag and went over to the fridge to get a drink.

“yeah, they’re all-“

“they didn’t give you any trouble, did they?”

jughead clenched his jaw and willed himself not to snap at his dad. of course they didn’t, they weren’t monsters, they were still people, no matter where they came from. he couldn’t understand why that thought was so hard for people to grasp.

“no, it was all fine.” he forced a smile as he turned to face his dad, and met his eyes in his reflection of the laptop screen.

“good, just don’t get too close to any of them. god knows what they all get up to.” fp scoffed, and jughead gripped the bottle in his hand tighter as he took a drink from it. they went through all of this yesterday. and the day before. and the day before that. and every day since it had been announced that the schools were merging.

“i’m going upstairs. i have homework.” jughead excused himself to get away from the conversation, and he watched as fp nodded before he grabbed his bag and headed for the stairs, escaping from the lecture that he was sure fp would finish at dinner anyways.

#amber’s writing #riverdale #bughead #fyeahbughead #bughead series #bughead fic #bughead fanficition #bughead fanfic #bughead fluff #bettycooper #betty cooper #betty cooper x jughead jones #jughead #jugheadjones #jughead jones #jughead jones x betty cooper

[witching-hour]

Best Friend [Jax Teller x Reader]

REQUESTED BY ANON 20,21,22 from 100 prompts with jax teller x reader plz

REQUESTED BY ANON Hi! Can I request a jax teller x reader with something along the lines of the reader being jax’s best friend and getting into a fight with a crow-eater because she’s jealous? Thank you luv

(A/N): so since you both had somewhat similar requests, i decided to use the second one’s synopsis with the prompts from the first one. i did change the first prompt a bit, though. “I was so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend” (20). “Because I love you, you asshole!” (21). “Come over here and make me” (22)

SUMMARY: the reader let’s her jealousy over her best friend consumer her, which causes her to get in a fight with a crow-eater

TW: violence, blood

THE music was loud. Very, very loud. You could barley hear your own thoughts over it, and were surprised how you haven’t gone deaf yet. Sitting at the bar in the Clubhouse during one of the notorious Friday night parties the club loved throwing, was how it looked like you were spending your night.

Opie was sitting at a table in the corner of the room with Lyla on his lap, smoking a joint that was being passed around with Bobby and Tig. You saw Juice get dragged off to the dorms early on with two sweet-butts that managed to capture his attention. Happy was tattooing a nomad, Quinn, who had stopped in town to visit his fellow patched brothers. Chibs was on the other end of the bar speaking with Gemma and Nero over the shortbread she made the other night during a family dinner. And Jax—you didn’t know where he was.

Probably getting his dick wet with some random crow-eater or sweet-butt on the lot. You scowled at the mental picture your brain was creating. Charming’s favorite playboy was at it again. Wonderful.

Sure, you could admit you were jealous that Jax had slept with almost every woman in Charming except you, which you should have held pride for for not being just another notch added to the Prince Charming’s belt. Yet, you didn’t. You made the stupid mistake of falling in love with your best friend. What a cliche, (Y/N). Your mother would be laughing at you right now.

You couldn’t help it. Jax wasn’t even trying and he’d managed to swoop you up from under your feet. With his infamous panty-dropping smile and perfect teeth, even with him being a smoker—which he also made hot for a habit you found disgusting. His grown out, slicked back blonde hair which matched his personality perfectly. Man, how you wished to run your hands through it. His broad shoulders and arms were enough to make you drool. And that six-pack hidden under his layers of t-shirts, flannels, and his kutte...you were done for. With all that, you definitely knew that man was packing some serious heat. Plus all the talk from all the the women he’s been with over the years.

His physical features were more than appreciated, but they weren’t the ones that reeled you in. It was the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. How he was so calm and collected in the most life-threatening situations, calculated. How protective and compassionate he was. His loyalty for his family, brothers, and friends. His undevoted love for those he cared about, because you learned when Jax Teller loved, he loved hard. The way he was with his son, Abel, made you swoon each time you saw them together. He was an amazing father, there was no doubt about it. Especially when he pushed the club into legitimate business in the name of the boy, who looked and acted so much like him, and to honor the father that was taken from him too soon. He sought out the dream his father envisioned, and executed it.

Jax was a bad boy, but a good man at heart. He had done unspeakable things, you knew that. The same hands he used to stroke your cheek, or to hold your hand, or to hug you, were the same hands that had been coated in the blood of his enemies. And was it stupid of you to say you weren’t scared of a man so violent and with the power to hurt another being? Maybe. But maybe it was the gut feeling you had that told you were safe with him. That he would never hurt you, and always protect you.

He was your best friend. Of course he would protect you. Of course he would hug you. Of course he cared about you. He loved you. He’s said it before. Just not in the context you always hoped for.

Glaring down the bottle of beer you had had in your grasp, caught the attention of Lyla who had gotten up from Opie’s lap and zigzagged through the crowd looking for you. Once she saw you alone at the bar, she frowned.

The minute she found a place next to you, she didn’t hesitate to ask you what was going on in that head of yours. “Are you okay?” She may not have been innocent when it came to her work, but she acted as sweet and polite like she was. She was an angel and your female best friend, like a sister.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You sighed. No you weren’t good. Thinking about your (male) best friend’s adventures with women that weren’t you, was not something that would put you in a good mood.

Her eyes ran over your face again, letting a sympathetic half-smile rest on hers. “Jax, again?”

“Mm,” you nodded sarcastically, a tight-lipped grin taking its place. “How’d you know?”

Before she could reply, you felt the air in the room shift. Her gaze left you and fell in the doorway that led to the dorms for patches. Jax walked through, his usual cocky and cool vibe flooding in as he took long strides to where you both stood. And neither of you missed as the infamous porn-slut no one could stand stroll out behind him. Ima Tite.

Your jaw clenched, slightly shaking you head in disbelief. He actually slept with the so called “rancid pussy” he and the club nicknamed her. Out of every woman to throw themselves at him, he settled with the daily used whore. You weren’t one to use such degrading terms for women, especially pornstars and prositutes because not all of them had a choice or they saw it as the only option to support their family, but Ima was not Lyla, or most of the girls you had become friendly with at Diosa. Lyla was genuine and kind. She did what she did because she was raising three kids and was expecting more since she just gotten off her birth control pills.

While Lyla upgraded from sucking dick to directing it, Ima had stuck to ground zero. Lyla became the sole producer and director of Redwoody Productions, and you couldn’t be more proud of her. She even worked Nero’s escort business as his assistant manager. Ima, on the other hand, wanted any and every guy up in her cooche. Especially the Jackson Teller: President to the Sons of Anarchy and Prince of Charming.

But really? Ima fucking Tite.

You felt Lyla’s hand rest comforting on your shoulder as her ex-coworker adjusted her top. The porn-slut not being subtle at all about it either. She ran her pinky down the corner of her mouth when she noticed you two at the bar, smirking tauntingly. She strutted to a pack of crow-eaters and sweet-butts that wanted to hear all about what she managed to snag. You scoffed under your breath, turning around in your seat and taking a long swig of your beer, letting the burn of the alcohol settle within you.

Jax noticed the tension in your posture, cocking an eyebrow up in curiosity and concern. He made his way over, standing in between the seats you and Lyla sat in. “Hey,” he glided his hand across your back in an attempt to comfort you, “everythin’ alright darlin’?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, sounding stiff and defeated, making him shoot a glance to Lyla questioningly.

Lyla didn’t want to lie to Jax. She only wanted the truth to come out about how both were secretly in love with each other so this high school nonsense would dissipate into thin air already. But being the good friend she was, and knowing you would do the same for her if roles were reversed, she covered your back. “Yeah, it’s just getting late. You know how she gets.” She laughed, flipping a piece of hair over her shoulder, and seemingly selling it to the biker.

“I’m just tired, Jax. I’ll probably head home in a little bit.” You added.

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but seemed to buy your bullshit for the time being. “You want me to give you a ride home?”

Not the ride you want....

Down girl!

“No, that’s okay. I’ll probably hitch a ride with Gemma and Nero. It looks like they’re heading out soon anyway.” You nodded your head towards his mom and business partner.

He looked dejected at your decline at his offer, but covered it up as soon as it showed with his usual mask of a neutral expression. You always jump up at the opportunity to ride on the back of his Dyna, always taking the long routes so you didn’t have to get off so soon. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You replied with a small close-lipped smile, noting that his face had fallen for a split second. Lyla too.

He nodded hesitantly, giving you one last look of concern before sauntering over to Opie, Bobby, and Tig.

You sighed when he sat down with the guys and shaking your head when you faced Lyla once more, “Fucking Ima.”

“I doubt he did anything with her, (Y/N/N).” She tried to assure you.

“Please,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

“Jax isn’t into her. He’s made that clear time and time again.” She continued. “None of the guys like her.”

“Maybe because he was using his upstairs head at the time, Lyla. When it comes to pussy, Jax only thinks with his dick.”

She was stunted. That was true. As much as she loved Jax like the brother she never had, he could be an asshole when it came to girls and relationships. She heard the stories about Tara Knowles, and had met the girl briefly a couple of times, but both times she was judged and commented on for her line of work. Jax and Tara were immature teenagers infatuated with each other to the point of toxicity. They wanted the other to be something they weren’t, and were pulled in opposite directions. They both grew up since then, but when put together, they were stuck in the memories they created long ago, bringing out the worst in each other. Jax was a cheater and hypocrite, while Tara was a green monster wrapped in high morals that clashed with his lifestyle. They were not meant to be together.

But you and Jax were. You brought out the best in him. Made him want to be a better man. Hell, you pushed him to turn the Club around, go legit. You were the only woman to make him fall to his knees, and everyone around the two of you saw that, even Jax. But not you.

“And that’s Ima—she’s borderline delusional when it comes to Jax.” Lyla argued. “Trust me, (Y/N), no one’s touched that since CaraCara burnt down.”

You only gave the ex-pornstar a sideways glance before taking another sip of your beer, causing your friend to give up, despite her exasperation with the situation. You changed the subject, asking her how the newest RedWoody film was coming along. You both chatted about her work until a crow-eater you noticed was chatting with Ima earlier ended up standing in front of you and Lyla.

She had dark hair with cheaply done red highlights, an eyebrow piercing, with a tattoo sleeve of the adult horror version of fairytale characters up and down her arm. You would have complimented the tattoos if she didn’t have the snarky and taunting look on her face. Her shirt was two sizes too small, and squeezing her exaggerated breasts so hard you thought they were gonna pop out of her top. Her shorts were daringly close to letting her ass hang out, and the usual three inch wannabe biker boots adorned her feet like every other crow-easter or sweet-butt in the Clubhouse.

She stood there not saying a word, making you and Lyla share a look. Trouble.

You rolled your eyes, only anticipating what could possibly go down in the next couple of minutes. “Can we help you?” The question was filled with an annoyed attitude, you knew that, but did you care? No.

“Yeah, actually you can.” She smiled with a sickly-sweet tone you only knew meant you were gonna be ripping out those red highlights from her scalp. “Stay away from Jax. My girl, Ima, is finally reelin’ him in, and she gonna be his Ol’ Lady real soon.”

You could feel the entitlement she wore as a crown hit you in waves. Your anger only sparking and spreading through your body. You matched her smile sarcastically, and tilting your head at an angle that anyone who knew you knew you were about to snap. “Thanks for the info, sister. Bye now.” You’ve had enough of this bullshit tonight. You just wanted to finish you beer and go home to your nice warm bed.

“Did’n you hear what I said? That was’n news. It was a warnin’.” She narrowed her eyes in threatening way, but to you only seemed mockingly comical because did she really believe you were scared of her? Ok. “Jax is off the market from your nasty ass cunt. Steer clear or else.”

“Oh shit...” Opie’ coughed on the blunt, shoving it in Bobby’s hands. “Jax!” His hand swatted his best friend repeatedly, motioning to the tension forming on the other side of the room.

Jax looked away from Tig, getting annoyed from being hit. “What the fuck, Ope?” His gaze followed his VP’s line of sight and widened when he also caught wind of the shitstorm brewing, and staggering to get up. “Oh fuck!”

“Or what? You’re gonna unleash your cat claws?” Your patience was wearing thin, and this girl was just not taking the hint to leave. “Bitch, I’m tired and wanna go home; take a nice long shower and go to bed. Not deal with your fake tits and bad attitude.” You rolled your eyes once more, reaching behind you and grabbing your beer from the bar. “If Ima’s delusional ass has a problem with who her imaginary boyfriend of the week hangs out with, then she can take it up with him.” You sent her one last smile before taking a swig from the the bottle.

The steam was flooding in thick streams out of her ears. The crow-eater’s jaw clenched and hands balled into fists.

You smirked behind the bottle up to your lips. You weren’t one to back down from a fight, but you also weren’t one to create conflict. You offered the bitch the easy way out, but she kept coming for more. She wants a cat-fight, you’ll give her one.

Her tell was the way her jaw twitched. It gave her straight away when she swung her arm up to throw a sloppy right hook. You ducked under her arm, holding your bottle by the neck and swung it towards the side of her head, and causing the bottom half to break on impact. She let out a loud cry as she tripped over her feet, her hand flying up to touch the now bleeding side of her head.

“You bitch!” She shrieked.

“Takes one to know one, darlin’.” You quipped, looking down at the broken bottle in your hand.

She let out another yell, lunging for you, but Lyla jumped in and pushed her into the bar away from you, causing two more from her little crew to flank her side in defense.

“She could have a concussion!” One squealed dramatically.

“Crazy bitch! Why’d you hit her head with the bottle, you could’ve killed her?” The other seethed.

You rolled your eyes at that. So. Damn. Dramatic. “Why’d her head hit my bottle, she wasted a perfectly good beer?”

Lyla elbowed you in the side in warning, making you toss the broken bottle to the side with a shrug. The three women glared at you two. One even had the courage to walk up to Lyla and spit at her feet. Your blood boiled at the action, so you gripped the bitch by her engine-red hair and yanked her head back harshly, throwing your fist back and knocking it right into the center of her face.

You don’t remember what happened next after your first collided with her nose, but you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and pulling you up off the floor. When your vision zoned back in you saw Opie with his arm around Lyla protectively, and Tig, Happy, and Kozik grabbing the crow-eaters that decided to pick a fight and escort them outside.

As you struggled against the person who still held you while you eased off the high from destruction, you heard a rough voice tell you to calm down.

Jax.

You stopped your attempts to fight him off; the adrenaline slowing down. You huffed in defeat, turning your head to look up at the man who was only staring down at you with a cocked eyebrow. You were in trouble.

“Shit.”

While the prospects cleaned up the mess you made, Jax escorted you upstairs to his dorm. You knew he wasn’t pissed or upset with you, most definitely amused, but you knew he was gonna question you about what went down. It was SAMCRO’s house, and he was the president.

He opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside first. You sat down on the corner of his bed as he closed the door and and disappeared into the bathroom.

Jax came back into the room with a partially damp rag, peroxide, and a couple gauze wraps. You cringed as you looked down at the back of your hands and took notice of how bruised and bloody they were. Your knuckles looked like you went toe-to-toe with a brick wall. You flinched as you flexed your hands, stretching and curling your fingers, hoping that none were broken. You heard a couple cracks but it seemed to be from the cramps already forming as the only pain that seared was from the cuts and darkening bruises.

He kneeled in front of you, dropping the peroxide and bandages next to you on the bed, and keeping hold of the rag. “Mind tellin’ me how you goin’ home turned into this?” He asked as he gingerly took one of your hands in his free bigger one, gently dabbing the warm, wet towel to your knuckles, earning a hiss from you at the contact.

“I was just enjoying the rest of my beer, and I was interrupted and a bitch’s head broke the bottle.” You snarked, hissing once more when Jax pressed a little harder on a cut on your middle finger. “Damn it, Jax!”

“Ok, smartass. Wanna try that again?”

“She was talking shit and my fist high-fived her face.” You couldn’t help but let the sarcasm flow. “Ow! Jackson stop it!”

“Quit being a smartass.” He warned you. “You’re smarter than this. You wouldn’t get into a fight over some crow-eater openin’ her damn mouth.”

“Oh, that’s rich. You’re gonna patronize me over fighting? Really, Mr. SAMCRO President?” You scoffed in disbelief as he attended your other hand. 

“Well, then what did she say?” He retorted, grabbing the disinfectant from next to you.

“Nothing important.”

“If it was nothing important, why did it cause a damn brawl in the middle of the Clubhouse?”

You jumped from your seat on the bed, not containing the anger that was bubbling inside you from his persistent questions. “Because I love you, you asshole! And it hurt that I didn’t see you all night at a party that you invited me to, only to finally see you with the fucking porn-slut of all people! I thought you hated her?! Apparently not!” Your hands were flying up to meet your anger and exasperation. Once Jax stood at your level, you shoved a finger into his chest, “And it didn’t help that some bitch was trying stake Ima’s claim on you for her! Oh, and I tried not to fight her because she wasn’t worth it! I was just gonna go home but she wouldn’t leave me alone! She was asking for it! Fucking ask Lyla if you don’t believe me! Then her backup showed up and it all went to shit! I am so sorry it was inconvenience to your night!”

Once your rant was over and you were catching your breath, your glare only sharpened as you saw a smirk resting on his face. You furrowed your brows. Why the fuck is he staring at you like that? It only broadened as he took in your expression. Leave it to him to read you like an open book. 

“I love you too, you smartass.”

What, now? You blinked rapidly, drawing blanks at what he said. You had to backtrack through every statement you made through your entire rant, only to pause, your face contorting from realization to shock to embarrassment. “Oh, fuck me sideways with a golf club.”

He licked his lips, glancing away for a split moment before shrugging. “I’d be more than willin’ to darlin’, but I wouldn’t use a golf club.”

Your eyes screwed shut as your lips drew a flat line, cringing even more into yourself, and wishing you could go crawl under your blankets at home. Oh, fuck. I said that out loud, didn’t I?

You peeked an eye open and groaned loudly, covering your face with your sore hands. “Quit looking at me like that!”

“Come over here and make me.”

SOA TAG LIST: @cutekittylexie @talicat713 @woahitslucyylu @xx--day-dreamer--xx @sweetpeaflower01 @rebelwrites

#jax teller x reader #jax teller #jax teller one shot #jax teller imagine #jackson teller #jackson teller x reader #soa #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #soa one shot #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy one shot #samcro #samcrow

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #30 - The Cybertronian Judicial System is a Friggin’ Joke

Have I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of court case stories? I think they’re pretty boring, on average, so the last couple of issues have been slightly dragging for me.

Anyway, back to Megatron’s trial. 

Our issue opens up with a full back shot of Ultra Magnus.

Artists take note, he really is built like a capital T.

As Magnus reads out Megatron’s statement retracting his “guilty” plea, we get some decent points as to why. See, telling a guy that you’ll stab him in the brain, so his trial can be over as quickly as possible, maybe isn’t such a hot idea. Megatron wasn’t a huge fan of that, or of how those memories they would’ve yanked outta him would have been used to fuel the Autobot propaganda machine. Why, you may ask?

Well, I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Megatron… doesn’t particularly care for the Autobots, nor the rhetoric they uphold.

I know, I was surprised too!

There’s also the fact that Optimus Prime is the judge on this whole thing. You know. Optimus Prime. Off and on leader of the Autobots, whenever it suits him. The guy who fucked off into space for a year after the war. The guy who threw a hissy fit when someone pointed out that he was compromised the last time they did something like this with Megatron. This guy:

Yeah, there might be a slight conflict of interests here. Remind me again why this had to be a military trial?

Anyway, enough of that, it’s time for a fight scene.

A swarm of Decepticons storm the arena, going after Megatron so they can help him escape. Magnus, though acting as Megatron’s defense, cannot abide by this disorder in the court.

Wild to think there’s a tiny little Pringles man with anxiety in there, isn’t it?

Optimus joins the fray, because there really are, just, so many guys to deal with here. A dude goes to collect Megatron, stating that they brought teleport packs for this little shindig. Megatron isn’t super jazzed about that though, not bothering to grab on before the dude gets shot to death. There’s a brief recess, I guess so the janitorial staff can deal with the mess of corpses littering the courtroom.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Rung’s building a model spaceship in Swerve’s, which is a very brave thing to be doing, seeing how sticky and gross bars can be. Brainstorm’s brought a flask to the bar, and proceeds to pour the contents into a funnel sticking out of his arm.

Our bartender for the evening- I’m assuming it’s evening, but I doubt the concept of time has any real weight in space- is Bluestreak. Bluestreak was stationed on Earth for a while, which is some Phase One stuff, and took a liking to human media while he was there. He’s the guy who handles movie night these days, seeing as Rewind’s too busy being dead to do it, and I doubt Chromedome has the emotional bandwidth to take over for his late spouse.

Bluestreak’s favorite movie is Zulu, a film glorifying the colonialism of the English over the native populace of an African kingdom. Make of that what you will.

Whirl wants to watch À Bout de Soufflé, or Breathless, as it was translated for the English-speaking world, which is a French New Wave film about a criminal who shoots a cop, hides from the police in a journalist’s home, who he seduces and likely impregnates. She eventually finds out what he did, reports him to the police, but then has a change of heart and lets him know what she’s done. He runs, but is shot, and dies in the street. The film is notable for its final scene, in which the following dialogue happens, between the dying criminal Michael, his lover Patricia, and an officer.

Of course, any poignancy would almost certainly be lost on the average comic book reader, and is also somewhat nullified by Whirl praising the film with internet lingo.

Then again, I suppose Whirl would be the type to dismantle any deeper reading of his interest in such a film, lest he be subjected to the horrifying ordeal of being known.

Over with Skids and Riptide, it’s revealed that Megatron’s been teaching classes on the Lost Light, specifically on the Knights of Cybertron. Riptide’s getting an education, because he’s been feeling pretty lost since the war ended- we’ll get to the potential whys of that later on. Swerve isn’t a fan of this community college thing that’s going on, stating that Megatron’s using it as a distraction, so he can devise plots most foul.

Back in the past, Autobot high command is having a talk about what Megatron’s demanding, and man is it a doozy— turns out, since the trial’s happening on Luna 2, the trial proceedings are subject to the laws of the moon. One of these moon laws is the right to request being judged by the Knights of Cybertron. Now, this is a problem, seeing as the Knights of Cybertron have been AWOL for the last several million years, but the law is the law, and you can’t just go ignoring it when someone’s pointed it out.

Bro, your SIC just suggested y’all pull the trial so you could slap it on Cybertron, thus negating any need to pay attention to the Knight law. That’s such a gross miscarrying of justice, it’s genuinely baffling. You’ve got bigger issues going on than flouting. My god, Optimus, you were a cop—

Oh wait, that’s right. Carry on, then.

Back on the Lost Light, First Aid’s checking to make sure that the coffin Rodimus they revealed last issue is true and proper dead. Now, this may seem like a given, but you’ve got to remember that Brainstorm was mostly dead for over a year and a half, and nobody fucking noticed, so it’s probably for the best that they’re checking.

First Aid’s been pretty withdrawn since Ambulon died, so this autopsy is really good for him, since it got him out of his room. Pretty fucked up that it would take a dead body to get him out and about. Has Rung checked in on his poor son of a gun, or has he been spending the last six months getting his professional rocks off psychoanalyzing a genocidal warlord?

Our coffin Rodimus died from having parts of his brain removed, and potentially died screaming.

Yes, that is a Furmanism, thank you peanut gallery, moving on—

Ratchet hands the phone over to Ultra Magnus, saying that a call has to be made, and it can’t be by him, because the callee is mighty upset with Ratchet at the moment.

Oh, I guess he’s fine after all. This must be where the sci-fi bullshit really starts kicking in for the series.

Because seeing your own dead body is likely very traumatic and awful, Rodimus is taking a while to string together his thoughts on the matter. Megatron doesn’t particularly care, because he’s not terribly sympathetic to this sort of thing, and the two get into a spat, where it’s revealed that they’re co-captaining the Lost Light.

Because things weren’t chaotic enough on this fucking ship. Need to mix in some peacocking between the McDonalds twunk and the man who killed half of Beijing.

Back in the past, Optimus Prime visited Megatron in prison to have a little chat. It’s not about that little rescue attempt, though the fact that those Decepticons may have been released from the Lost Light’s brig is certainly interesting. No, Optimus is here to sit way too close to his mortal nemesis on the floor of his room and talk about how Megatron is a sneaky bastard.

You remember the Hellraiser puzzle box from a couple issues back? Yeah, that was a communicube, one that was passed to Optimus to suggest that the trial be held on the moon, so the arena there would be able to hold all the people wronged by Megatron. This seems pretty damn convenient in hindsight, but Megatron swears that the legal loophole wasn’t his only intent when he sent the cube.

Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, Megatron? It’s all about how you’re perceived by future generations. Fuck the guys who had to actually deal with what your personal choices caused to happen.

Megatron wants to make amends with all those who were wronged by him. This doesn’t include being acquitted of his crimes, which, y’know, good- at least he’s being slightly realistic about how this is going to turn out for him.

What he wants to do is find Cyberutopia, so the Cybertronians have a replacement planet, since Cybertron kind of sucks now.

Oh, sorry, did I say realistic? I take it back.

In the present, Rodimus is still bummed out about being dead. Still, the day doesn’t stop just because it’s a bad one, and he calls in the experts.

CHROMEDOME YOU PROMISED TO STOP THIS SHIT

Yeah, no, Chromedome’s fallen off the wagon again, and does his thing on the coffin Rodimus. As he does, Megatron suddenly gets squeamish, Brainstorm pulls out his early early-warning device to lean on the fourth wall, and it’s revealed that the coffin that coffin Rodimus was in was built in the fashion of the Spectralist faith.

All Chromedome can suss out of coffin Rodimus’ memories is the really big important stuff, which includes the speech at Rivet’s Field inviting folks to come join the Knight Quest. Aww, that’s sweet.

With the analysis of the innermost energon complete, the results are in— the coffin Rodimus is a Rodimus. A real one, from the near future. Bummer.

I suppose denial is one of the seven stages of grief, isn’t it?

As everyone argues over whether or not Rodimus is going to die, Nightbeat brings up a good point— there aren’t any numbers carved into the coffin Rodimus’ hand. Rodimus is about to reveal some Ratchet-original wisdom, when things start getting really weird; whole sections of the Lost Light are disappearing.

Over at Swerve’s, Tailgate is regaling his peers with the story of his derring-do against Chief Justice Tyrest. Everyone is very impressed, and this includes our good buddy Getaway.

Jeez, think you’ve got enough antagonist shadows on this guy? It’s almost as if the art’s trying to tell us something about him.

Getaway lays it on real thick, saying that Tailgate could totally be the next Prime, with how courageous and awesome he is, all while completely ignoring Tailgate’s personal space and having a weirdly tiny hand. This seems to seriously bother Cyclonus, who is watching this shit go down from the doorway. Our purple space jet leaves once the drinks start being poured and conversation starts happening. God knows he hates talking about his insecurities.

Then the Pipes is Friggin’ Dead alarm goes off. But Pipes has been dead for a while now, so that must mean something else awful is happening.

Back during the trial, I guess because Optimus has a soft spot for Megatron, he allows him to join the Lost Light’s Knight Quest… even as he says that he could keep the guy locked up until Rodimus and pals find the Knights. However, there are rules to this, and one of the rules is that Megatron must publicly denounce the Decepticon cause.

It is a slow and painful experience for everyone involved, as he reads the statement he was given. It’s an immediate call to action- or rather, inaction.

Geez, think they could’ve made it any more obvious that this was being ghostwritten? I can’t wait to see how long it takes for “Megatron was blackmailed into saying this by the Autobots” to be a plotpoint.

Outside the prison, Ratchet and Rodimus are taking in the brand new Rod Pod, which is genuinely ridiculous in how large it is. Rodimus admits to having taken Atomizer’s list, though he knows that trying to use it to keep those who voted him off would be a pretty shitty thing to do.

Also, no one’s told him about Megatron coming along on the trip. As captain.

Or you could, I dunno, lock him up from the start. Or, if you want to give him a chance to prove himself, slap him into a bottom-rung role, like bilge cleaner, or sewage mucker, or whatever the equivalent would be on a spaceship full of giant gay robots. We don’t have to give the guy any power to hold him to scrutiny— any minimum wage worker will tell you that scrutiny comes far harsher for those who actually carry out orders than those who give them.

But what do I know? I’ve never fought in a several million year war, and I don’t plan to.

Getting back to the list, it seems as if Ratchet and Rodimus are on the same wavelength, in that both agree it’s only going to cause trouble and hurt feelings to keep the thing around. Rodimus destroys it with his usual flare, only to be blindsided by the fact that it was fake this entire time. How does Ratchet know this?

Because his name wasn’t on it.

...Man, that’s gotta sting. No wonder Rodimus was upset enough to not take his calls.

In the present, everyone’s in a panic, as they all bolt for the shuttle bay and start pouring into shuttles. The Lost Light is disintegrating around them, which is sort of a problem. Despite this nightmare scenario happening, Rodimus and Megatron still find the time to be assholes to each other. That’s dedication right there.

As the two bicker, multiple shuttles zip away from the rapidly disappearing ship, including the Rod Pod.

Man, now it really is the Lost Light.

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #world shut your mouth #issue 30 #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #comic script writing

[marshieee]

We just changed

Timeskip Osamu x Fem! Reader

Part five

Warning⚠️: angst

A/N: a lovely thanks to @iis4d for proofreading this even tho they’re busy🥺❤️ and btw I’m really excited for the next part!!!

When can i see you again? Please let me see you again, my love has never changed.

“Kenjiiiii come on! Please!”

You’ve read the email your company sent you yesterday, silently beating yourself up, frustrated that you should have packed those with you too.

Maybe you were too emotional to even think about that

And now you’re asking, begging for your cousin to get it on your behalf. It’s been hours since the two of you started arguing.

“I don’t wanna”

“Well i don’t want to either”

“It’s YOUR stuff”

“But i don’t want to go to tokyo”

“Well sucks to be you”

You don’t really want to go tokyo so soon, and your gut have been telling you not to. You don’t want to assume or anything but you feel like osamu would be there.

And you’d be damn if you see him again.

“You’ll be going to tokyo this Monday anyways so why not just get it?”

You looked at aone and then back at futakuchi who looked away from you, disbelief was plastered in your face.

“You’re going to tokyo?! And you—“

“Fine! Fine! I’ll get it jeez aone you shouldn’t have said that!”

Aone just sipped his tea, well if he didn’t the argument would last longer and his patience would go thinner.

Monday

Osamu woke up very early, he took a shower, got dressed and especially ate some breakfast before heading out.

Eager to see you, talk to you and hug you he’s feeling excited for some reason. According to the phone call he got that day you should get your stuff around 9:00 am to 3:00 pm it was still 8:00 so he decided to get some food for the two of you.

Usually he would be at his shop right now but you’re important, you’re his priority right now.

As he arrived at the company you used to work he waited outside, waiting for you. Hours have passed it’s already 3 pm still no sign of you.

Has he missed you? No that’s impossible. Getting anxious and frustrated he went inside to ask if you’ve come to your stuff.

“Miss y/n didn’t come but somebody got it on her behalf”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes sir we also had her consent”

“Who took her stuff?”

“The guy who just left awhile ago”

“Thank you”

Dashing out he searched for the person but not until he heard something.

“Yeah yeah i got your stuffs, what the heck y/n?! Why is it so damn heavy?!... Huh? Yeah it is! Does it have Thor’s hammer or something?...Ha? Plants? You keep plants at your office? What are you thumbelina? Is that even allowed?...Really? Heeeh~”

Osamu heard your name but when he turned around he saw a guy carrying a box with your name. A guy...who’s he?

“Yeah yeah I’ll come home now jeez”

“Excuse me”

Futakuchi turned around just to see...someone. He raised an eyebrow at him, he got no time for scammers.

“Yes?”

Osamu took a deep breath, it’s now or never, he needs to know where you are, he needs to meet you.

“May I know where’s y/n?”

“Excuse me? How do you know her? What’s your relationship with her?”

Osamu was about to answer when all of a sudden Futakuchi laughed. Judging from his expression he knew exactly who this guy is.

“Wait wait are you...Osamu? You’re Osamu right?”

“I am.”

Futakuchi didn’t expect to meet the ex boyfriend this early, he still had grudges against this guy especially now that he has you freeloading in their apartment.

“Let me guess you want to meet y/n huh?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry buddy I can’t help you.”

He was about to walk away when Osamu suddenly turned him around.

“Please I want to talk to her.”

“And she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Futakuchi removed Osamu’s hands off his arms, the nerve of this guy asking where you are, looking all concerned when he is to blame.

“I need to tell her something.”

“What? Are you gonna explain why you cheated?”

Osamu hesitated but looked at Futakuchi who was smirking at him.

“Yes.”

Futakuchi sarcastically laughed at him.

“What? What are you gonna tell her? Hmm? Did she lack something?”

“No.”

“No? Then perhaps she wasn’t fun anymore.”

“Of course not.”

“Then how do you intend on explaining yourself? Come on I want to hear your reasons”

How, he didn’t know how, it wasn’t a valid reason to be honest, he can’t just say he was caught up in lust and...

“But did you enjoy it?”

“What?”

“Did you enjoy it, fucking someone when you have a girlfriend.”

“No—“

“And yet you did ”

Osamu just stood there, Futakuchi just looked at him waiting for answer when he didn’t get any he smiled at him.

“Say, do you think you deserve to talk to y/n?”

“No but—“

“Do you think she wants to see you?”

“No.”

“See, you already know yet you keep on insisting”

He knows that but he still wants to talk to you, he knew he doesn’t have any valid reasons and he got absolutely no rights to see you but it just happened so fast and he badly wants to see you, talk to you and hold you, like are you eating fine? Were you taking care of yourself?

“Look Osamu, you’ve wounded y/n more than enough don’t make things any worse.”

Futakuchi was being serious, if he gets your stuff on your behalf then he’ll talk to this dipshit on your behalf as well.

“She doesn’t want to see you and I’m pretty sure that you’re not that dumb not to know why, it’s pretty obvious.”

“But—“

“Y/N is doing fine, she will be...not now but eventually because I will make sure she’ll be completely fine without you”

Osamu can sense that this guy was serious, he can see that.

“So stop insisting on meeting her, you’re just wasting your time”

Futakuchi turned around but before he could walk away he gave Osamu one last harsh look.

“Don’t look all sad and dejected when you’re to blame, it’s your fault that she’s gone and just accept it”

He walked away, thanking God he didn’t punch Osamu right then and there, he doesn’t want to go home all bruised up, well if osamu would fight back of course.

Osamu just stood there and watched as the guy walked away from him, and here he thought that maybe he could talk to you, maybe you two could work things out.

Maybe you would give him a second chance.

What a silly idea of course you won’t, after what he had done it’s quite understandable that you won’t. He’s just in denial.

Is this what you felt when you were also waiting for him? He didn’t know that it would hurt this much.

Part Six

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #angst #osmau x reader #osamu fic #futakuchi #haikyuu angst #osamu #miya osamu #haikyuu fic #hq #hq fic

[wyofabdoms]

Ten Days - Day One

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, medical inaccuracies, swearing

Word Count: 3219

Note: My very first completed fic EVER and first original post on Tumblr...what a time to be aliiiiive!!!  The rating will go up in later chapters, FYI.  I want to say thank you to @yespolkadotkitty​ for being so kind and helpful and encouraging.  Go read her stories...she’s an amazing writer.

Read the full series on Ao3

“God dammit!…...Fucking-….God damn mother fuckers!...”  

You roll your eyes as you listen to the continued litany of swearing coming from the direction of the living room.  Men can be such babies sometimes, you think as you put the finishing touches on the sandwich you’d plated along with a bowl of soup.  Suddenly the litany of mixed English and Spanish swear words is broken by a sharp, hissing intake of breath and you jerk your head in the direction of the adjoining room.  

“Peña?”  You call out.  “What happened?”  You didn’t get an answer until you enter the living room with the plate of food, a glass of water and a small bottle of pills.  The DEA agent lie curled in on himself, half-on, half-off his leather couch.  His elbows are clenched tightly into his sides, his face pale, eyes scrunched shut and teeth gritted in pain.  Clearly your bull-headed partner had not heeded your instructions to stay still and not try to move on his own.  Such babies….and soooo stubborn! You think to yourself as you shake your head, placing the items in your hands on the coffee table.  Reaching out to grasp his shoulders to help him back into a more comfortable position, you do your best to not say the words rushing through your brain.  

“What did I tell you?  What the hell do you think you’re doing?  I told you you’re going to…”  Before you can continue, his eyes snap open and he spears you with them; they’re filled with malice and anger and frustration.  

He cuts you off, spitting his words in your direction. “I could ask you the same fuckin’ question, honey,” Javi bites off. 

Your own temper flares now in response to his outburst, and you jab your balled fists into your hips, staring down at the grown man writhing in pain. “Fuck you, Peña!  Don’t be such an asshole, I’m only trying to help.”

“I don’t need your fuckin’ help...what I need is for you to leave me the fuck alone.” he grits out, clenching his elbows tighter into his side.

“God you are acting like SUCH a child right now, Peña.”  You cross your arms, but still refuse to follow his direction and leave.  For a moment, the dark eyes that were flashing anger flickered to confusion, filled with a question, indignation.  But only for a moment.  His eyebrows pull impossibly low into a harsh glare and the dangerous angry glint returns to his eyes.  An incredulous undertone seeps into his voice.

“I...was...fucking….shot!” he hisses each word quietly, venomously, spitting each syllable as though he wishes it would send you further away from him .  You don’t move, but merely purse your lips, raise an eyebrow, and shrug.  

“Join the club.”  You say.  “It was a clean shot, Peña, it went right through you...you’ll be fine in a few weeks. Although…” you gesture towards his clenched middle, “Not if you keep being an idiot and trying to do stuff on your own. You’ll tear your stitches.”  

Javier lets out a huff of breath and grunts as he tries to right himself back flat onto the sofa, trying unsuccessfully to swing his legs back onto the couch without utilizing any of the muscles or tendons in his midsection and core so close to his injury.  You watch him struggle for a moment, waiting.  Finally, he lets out a resigned sigh that does a decent impression of a growl and stills, tilting his head towards you, but refusing to meet your eyes.  

You wait a moment longer and then shake your head at him again, grasping his ankles and tossing them perhaps not as gently as you could have back up onto the sofa.  The quick motion causes him to bite back a pained moan in the back of his throat behind clenched jaw, lips pressing together into two thin lines, eyes squeezed shut once again.  After a moment, he lets out a relieved breath through his nose, eyes opening wide for a moment then blinking rapidly a few times.  He glances over at you as you strong-arm the heavy wooden coffee table over closer towards the couch and rearrange the items on the edge within his reach: plate of food, glass, pill bottle, television remote, cordless phone, cigarettes and ashtray, sidearm.  All the essentials you think to yourself, smirking while you watch from beneath your eyelashes as he surveys the items petulantly, assessing to make sure that he wasn’t actually in any prolonged pain.  You glance at the right side of his blue button down and notice no traces of seeping blood spots on the garment anywhere along his torso. You straighten, satisfied that the stubborn man hasn't pulled his stitches open.

“OK.” You puff.  “That ought to be good for you for a while.  Try to get some sleep if you can...I’ll check back in with you in a few hours.”  You snatch his keys off the end table next to the couch and put them in your pocket.  You look back at him, eyebrows raised.  “Anything else I can get you before I leave, Princess?”  He rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer, just gives you a sulky look before moving his gaze to stare at the ceiling.  You nod once, receiving the message loud and clear. “Ok then.”  You spin around and head towards the door, calling over your shoulder, “Don’t forget to take your antibiotic.”

You chose to ignore the mumbled “go to hell” you hear muttered after you.

-------

Six and a half hours laters, you haul your exhausted body through the heavy late night darkness back into your building.  The last thing you want is to stop by Peña’s apartment and put up with his crap after the craziness of the day, but as you climb the stairs to his floor, you wonder if you are maybe being a little too harsh on the man...then you shake that thought off.  Fuck that!  You think.  I’ve been shot three times and I’ve never been rude to someone when they’ve tried to help me out.  He’s just being a dick.

You rummaged in your pocket and fish out his keys.  You enter the dark apartment, calling his name softly, announcing your entrance.  You receive no response and follow the muted flashing light of the TV illuminating the living room.  He’s still stretched out on the couch, one arm flung up above and behind his head, face turned towards the TV screen, eyes closed.  Judging by his breathing pattern you’d bet a pack of cigarettes that he’s only pretending to be asleep, hoping you’ll just leave him alone.  Fine with me. You collect the cleaned plate and empty glass, carrying both to the kitchen and refilling them before returning them to their place on the table in front of him without a word.  

Several top buttons on his shirt are undone; you can see the edges of the tape and bandages from his injury peeking out along the edge. Leaning over him carefully, you lightly move his loosened shirt aside to glance at his bandages, checking more closely for any stains.  Seeing nothing, you glance up at his face and see that his eyes are open now.  They bore into you out of the corners of his eyes, but his head stays turned towards the flashing screen across the room. Your own gaze snags on his dark one and almost instantaneously, you can feel every atom charge and spark in the room.  You are suddenly very aware of how close you are to him and you straighten.  You inquire if he needs help getting to the bathroom or if he wants to move to his room and he shakes his head in response to both.  You clear your throat softly and step away from him, considering the items on the coffee table. 

Your gaze settles on the pill bottle and you snatch it up.  Opening the small orange container you dump the contents into the palm of your hand and quickly count the oblong yellow capsules.  Goddamnit! You think to yourself and shoot the man on the couch a sharp glare.  He meets your eyes with his own sideways gaze, then very intentionally sweeps his eyes back towards the TV.

“You need to take your antibiotic, Peña.”  Nothing.  You sigh heavily.  “Stop being such a baby and take your damn pill!  I’m tired, I need a shower and I don’t feel like dealing with a fucking infant right now.”  He turns his head, considering you for a moment, then quietly repeats his earlier reply regarding taking the antibiotic before turning back to the screen.  How much trouble would you get in if you punched a fellow agent that had just been shot?  You take a step forward menacingly.  “Peña, I swear to fucking God-”

“Get out of my apartment!”  He says quietly.  “And take that shit with you.” He gives a small nod with his chin towards the pills in your hands.  

“What is your problem?  It’s medicine, Peña, I’m not asking you to do a line of coke!”  

“I fuckin’ know what it is, I don’t-”

“This is fucking ridiculous!” You explode, shoving the pills back into the bottle and capping it before throwing it angrily towards his prone body, finding its mark in the center of his chest.  “You might as well have asked those fucking sicarios to shoot you in the head instead if you’re not going to take care of yourself.  I’m not hauling your ass back to the hospital when that gets infected and I’m sure as hell not going to deal with your sorry corpse when you die alone on your couch in this fucking apartment because you were too damn stubborn to swallow a God damn pill.  Too God damn stubborn to let somebody help you just a little when you need it.”  You’re panting now, enraged by your body’s own betrayal of you with that outburst.  You can feel tears stinging behind your eyes and that only serves to make you more angry.  

Your brain knows he is acting this way because he’s in pain, because his adrenaline has worn off, because he’s trying not to think about what might have happened if the bullet had been one or two centimeters to the left.  You’ve experienced this yourself.  But your feelings are still hurt by his behavior.  Your boss had given you explicit orders to see to it that your partner made a quick and full recovery.  You were really just trying to do your job and didn’t need this prick treating you like shit!  You take a deep breath into your belly, refusing to let your voice crack in front of this ungrateful son of a bitch.  For a moment you consider just walking out and leaving him there. 

But you are not a quitter. You’ve never given up on anything in your life, especially when it comes to anything having to do with your career.  He was stubborn...oh yes.  But God damn it, so are you.  You cross your arms in front of your chest and stare at him, thinking for a moment.

You ponder your relationship with this infuriating man over the past year and change.  At first you had loathed him...and the only real interest he had in you initially had been about getting you into bed.  When it quickly became clear that that was not going to happen, his interest in you had become non existent….until it wasn’t.  Until you had proven yourself more competent, capable and intuitive than most every other person he worked with in the agency, save only for perhaps himself.  A grudging professional respect had grown and, as the weeks turned to months, a genuine and friendly camaraderie had rooted itself between the two of you.  You would dare at times to even refer to the two of you as friends.  He still drove you crazy and enraged you daily and he had never really denied or hidden the fact that he still wanted you. There were times you would catch him looking at you with a sparkle in his eye that you knew meant trouble.  Or, occasional moments like the one that had just happened: when the air between the two of you danced with static energy, charged with the unspoken desire that he (and sometimes you) would prefer to so easily give in to. But his professional respect for you outweighed that want and you had made it clear that you would not be sleeping with your partner, not ever.  And, for the most part, he respected that declaration save for the occasional half-joking, half-serious suggestive comment. They annoyed you, but you also realized he made them in an effort to determine if you had changed your mind.  You always shot him down and would make some remark that put him back in his place, but you never felt like he was pushing you, merely that he was checking to see if the needle had moved at all.  Perhaps…

An idea drifted through your thoughts and planted itself in your head.  You felt a tiny smirk play on your lips as you tilted your head slightly and looked at him thoughtfully.  He saw the change in your composure, recognizing that you had hit on something.  His eyes became guarded and you knew he was preparing himself to snarl back at whatever idea you had cooked up.

“What if I make you a deal…” You throw out slowly.  His eyes narrow and he says nothing, waiting to hear more.  You take a step towards him, snatching the pill bottle from off of his chest where it had landed.  You gaze at the label, considering for another moment, then let your eyes slide up to meet his.  You hold the bottle up.  “What if…”  you lick your lips, knowing how he reacts when you do that, then bring your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, taking another half step closer to him.  “What if I told you that I’ll kiss you if you take your pill.”  His eyes grow wide and instantly flash with desire and interest, then almost as quickly snap back into a narrow question.

“You’re telling me that if I take my pill, you’ll make out with me?”  The disbelief is evident in his voice.  It sounded too good to be true.

“No.” You correct him firmly.  “I said I would kiss you.”  He studies you for several long moments, thinking over the proposal.  Then, he carefully raises his head, adjusts the pillow slowly behind it to prop himself up a little more, and lets out a deep, contemplative sigh as he leans back again and makes a counter offer.

“Hmmmm. That’s an interesting deal.  But I’d like to alter the wording a bit.”  You raise your eyebrows slightly, indicating he should continue.  The corners of his lips twitch upward.  “One pill, one kiss.”  Your eyes narrow at the broad unspecificity of his suggestion...and the potential for a much more complicated next 10 days.  

“Seriously, Peña?  You would really hold me to something like this for 10 days because you’re too fucking childish to take medicine?”  He shrugs.

“It was your idea.” He points out.  You sigh, tilt your head back aghast and stare at the ceiling for a moment, considering. Finally, you snap your head back down.

“Fine. Deal. Whatever.  One pill, one kiss.”  He tries to suppress the smile growing beneath his mustache, but he doesn’t try too terribly hard.  You move the last two steps to the couch, hand him the glass of water, and  dump one of the pills into your hand, holding it out between your thumb and index finger, dropping it into his open palm.  He sighs happily, smiling like a cat that just ate the canary, tosses it down his throat and chases it with several long gulps of water.  He releases a small gasp as he moves the glass away from his lips and you raise your eyebrows and hitch your chin upwards, pointing towards your own mouth, indicating that he should let you see inside his own.  He rolls his eyes but grins and opens his mouth wide, lifting his tongue and showing you that he had indeed swallowed it.  You sigh, crack your neck in either direction, then drop to your knees next to the couch, bringing yourself nearly level with his face.

Before you can think too much or before he can try anything to prolong the type of kiss you have planned, you clasp his jaw on either side with both hands and bring your own lips down to meet his.  You try to ignore how incredibly soft they are, and the smoky taste of his last cigarette ghosting up from them; how you can catch a faint whiff of his aftershave and how defined and strong his jawline feels beneath your fingers.  You also choose to ignore how your heart begins to pound frantically and the jolt you feel between your legs at the soft sound he makes deep in his throat when your lips touch.  You feel his hand come up to the side of your head and you allow it….for now.  He gently twines the tips of his fingers into your hair and places his thumb on your cheek, stroking it once, twice, ever so softly and gently.  You had planned a quick, fairly chaste kiss, but now that your lips were attached to his, the brief moment you had had in mind stretches into two longer moments, then into three, then another moment more...then suddenly it seems you’ve somehow forgotten how to count or determine any length of time at all.  You feel like your stomach is being pulled through your shoes and your brain starts to cloud as the soft breath from his nose caresses your skin.  You’ve never kissed anyone with a mustache before and you’re not sure how you feel about it….but then you decide that you're actually pretty sure you like the added sensation of the tiny hairs dancing across the sensitive skin of your upper lip.  Your mind starts to unfog when you feel his mouth open slightly and the tip of his tongue slips out, cautiously exploring along the seam of your own mouth, trying unsuccessfully to request entrance…

...you get a huge level of satisfaction when you watch him chase you needily with his lips, eyes still closed when you pull away quickly, breaking the kiss before it becomes something more than a business transaction.  He follows the wake of your kiss, searching the air blindly with his lips for the feeling of yours again, he stretches towards you, raising himself up.

“Ah, fuck!”  He gasps suddenly, collapsing back onto the couch in pain as his injury forcefully pulls him back into his convalescence, leaving him unable to pursue you further.  You chuckle and stand quickly, not feeling at all sorry for him one little bit.  As he grunts in pain and protest, you head out the door, calling over your shoulder as you leave. 

“Don’t forget to eat that sandwich, you’re supposed to take the medicine with food.”

 Day Two

#javier peña x reader #narcos #javi #javier pena x female reader