#uh might fuck around and get invested in the caps...

[decks-writing-blog]

Whatever the Fuck Benrey Is: Chapter One: Never Stayed Dead

Summary: Following the events at Black Mesa, Gordon ends up learning more about Benrey. He might even end up liking him eventually.

[A/N] This was supposed to be a one shot about Gordon and Benrey starting to get along; the start of a slow burn that still feels complete as a stand alone. And then I was gonna do more one shots along their relationship journey, each feeling complete on its own. I've done this with ships before to great success but uh... that didn't happen here. It just kept going until I had to start splitting it into chapters at which point I was invested in it. I have nothing planned so it might end up meandering at some point but that's okay, I'm working on chapter 7 now and still going strong and still enjoying writing it so the journey will take us wherever it ends up taking us.

Also, I know that Benrey seems to most often be portrayed as basically not taking damage from things but like, in the series because of how G-mod works, blood still sprays from him sometimes so I have chosen to interpret that as he takes the damage but then heals from it really quick. Which lead to other ideas that end up being rather important to how I write Benrey.

~

Upon getting hired at Black Mesa, Gordon hadn’t thought too much about the housing provided to the employees. It was a top secret research facility out in the middle of the New Mexico dessert, mostly buried under it, and a long multi-hour drive from the next nearest bit of civilization. Said bit of civilization being nothing but a small town that didn’t even have an airport. So of course the job had come with a place to live, anything else would’ve caused getting to and from work to take longer than actual work or require him and everyone else to camp out in the dessert above the facility. Now though, upon fast walking away from the Chuck E. Cheese – with Tommy’s birthday party over, capping the nightmare at last, he was finally free – he really wished he had a place to stay in Tuefort too.

Whether the living area in Black Mesa was still intact or not was hard to say for sure. But even if it was, based off the state the rest of the facility he’d seen had been in, likely it had been overrun with aliens and military goons, leaving it a horrid mess. One he wouldn’t want to clean up or just live next to even if the option had been available to him. Which it wasn’t thanks to how long the drive down there was when he didn’t even have a car currently.

Did he even have a job at Black Mesa anymore? If so did he want to keep it after all that? Even if the answer to either of those was ‘yes’ he didn’t want go back right now for sure. Not until someone else cleaned up the mess. Which should take a while, meaning he had plenty of time to think about it for now.

Instead he kept walking, trying not to think about anything other than finding Tuefort’s one hotel, if he could just remember where it was. He should still have his wallet on him under the HEV suit and thus some money, hopefully enough to rent a room long enough to figure things out.

Dressed in a blood splattered suit of what was essentially orange armor and with a hand that was hopefully not too obviously a gun at first glance, he got curious looks from passersby as he made his way down the sidewalk. There were quite a few people about too; the town was abuzz. Likely that had something to do with the military flying over to get to Black Mesa. Luckily, despite their intrigue, no one stopped him to ask questions about who he was or what he thought about the military. Tuefort’s one claim to fame was being a weird place filled with weird people so he could hopefully continue to pass as a normal type of weird person that had nothing to do with anything important. So he avoided eye contact as much as possible and held his gun hand close to try to disguise it as such.

He’d have to do something about it eventually though. Walking around with a gun for an hand might not be illegal – this was America after all, gun laws were way more lax than was probably wise – but it sure was weird. People would ask about it for sure and he didn’t want to talk about it. Could anything be done about it though? Was taking it off and replacing it with proper prosthetic an option? … If not then he would have to…

“Hey.”

He jumped, snapping to face the ally he was passing by, pointing said gun arm at the figure leaning against the wall within. Quickly, he lowered it; he couldn’t just go around pointing his gun at anyone who startled him even if the voice had sounded uncomfortably familiar. Except well, it wasn’t just the voice that was familiar.

“Benrey!” Gordon snapped the gun back up. “Why aren’t you dead? You’re supposed to be dead.” It was a struggle to keep his voice down but he didn’t want to call undue attention.

“What? Who told you I was dead?” It sounded like a genuine question but with Benrey who could possibly tell if he was genuine about anything?

“No one. We killed you or… or I thought we did.” He should’ve known better though, huh? Benrey never stayed dead.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a cheater but I’m better now. So where you headed? Off to steal something?”

If Gordon shot him, how much trouble would he get in? … Probably more than was worth it considering Benrey couldn’t die, not permanently anyway. “No. I’m looking for a hotel ‘cause I need a place to sleep for a while before I try to find out if any part of Black Mesa’s still operational and if I also still have a job there if so. I don’t have time for you so I’m just gonna leave now.”

Maybe it was a mistake to turn his back on whatever the fuck Benrey was but Gordon didn’t really care anymore and did it anyway, resuming heading down the sidewalk. If Benrey wanted to kill him, he would do it and Gordon couldn’t do a single thing to stop him apparently. So he was just going to do his best to not let Benrey bother him and hope that would convince him to finally leave.

“You’re headed the wrong direction.”

Gordon skid to a halt, turning to look back at Benrey as he stepped out of the ally. “What?”

“Hotel’s down that way, on the other side of town.” Benrey pointed in the opposite direction Gordon had been heading.

“Are you sending me in that direction so I’ll walk all the way to that side of town, find no hotel, forcing me to walk all the way back to this side of town again before I finally find it?”

“No. Why would I do that?”

“Because you want to make my life a living hell.”

Benrey stared at him in silence for a several seconds. Had his eyes always been that yellow and Gordon was just now noticing or was it a new thing? “Whatever, I don’t care if you believe me or not. I’m just trying to help an old pal out. Which I didn’t have to do after you cheated to beat me up. Uncool, man, uncool.” Well at least he wasn’t unphased by his defeat. Not that him being bitter about it really helped Gordon much. If anything that was bad as it gave Benrey all the more reason to target him.

“You know what? Fine. If you know where the hotel is, take me there, lead the way.” Gordon flourished his good arm in the direction Benrey had said the hotel lay in.

“Why? You planning to steal something once you’re there?”

Far too tired to play this game, Gordon didn’t take the bait. In hindsight, he should’ve never responded to such nonsense, it’s clearly what Benrey wanted. Well, with defeating Benrey for good off the table, Gordon was done playing his games. He wasn’t going to be a fun target anymore. “If you don’t know the way, that’s fine. I’m fully capable of finding it on my own.” Though he would really rather just have someone bring him there, even if it was Benrey, so he could finally get a shower and a full night’s sleep that much sooner.

More of that silent thoughtful stare, his pupils narrowing to slits. How Gordon had ever missed the fact that Benrey wasn’t human was a mystery. What was he though? Gordon would love to know but at the same time it was Benrey. No doubt he’d make any attempt to study or experiment on him a massive pain in the ass.

“I’m waiting. You gonna lead the way or no.”

“Well uh… I don’t know where it is exactly,only that it’s on the side of town closest to Black Mesa, which is over that way.” He pointed again and it was indeed the direction Black Mesa lay in.

“Great, awesome, thanks for the help.” Gordon started in that direction. If it was a trick, he’d already been walking so long already it hardly mattered. And if not, it’d get him to a place he could rest that much sooner. So it was probably worth the risk.

“You’re welcome,” Benrey said as he fell in step with Gordon, sounding as if he hadn’t picked up on the frustration and sarcasm at all.

Gordon turned his head to look at him, intending to tell him to leave but bit back on it. It wouldn’t make him leave and might give him opening to be more annoying. So instead he clamped his mouth shut, turned to look solely where he was going and kept walking. His only hope of escaping Benrey was no longer being a fun thing to play with and that meant he had to do his best to ignore Benrey and all his attempts to be a nuisance.

The silence between them held for maybe a grand total of two whole minutes before Benrey broke it. “So when’s your hand gonna grow back?”

Gordon took a breath to respond but again bit back on it. He wasn’t raising to the bait. Benrey was trying to make him angry by bringing up his missing hand again.

“I mean I know humans heal slower and stuff, it’s why everyone’s always taking my juice, ‘cause they’re impatient and don’t wanna wait, but it’s been days now so it should be starting to come back, right? Unless it can’t ‘cause the gun’s there now. I could cut that off for you if you want. Unless you wanna keep the gun, it is pretty cool. You have to promise not to steal anything with it though.”

Gordon should stay quiet, really he should, Benrey was talking nonsense, again. But even with how exhausted he was by the events of the last week, or however long that nightmare had lasted, he couldn’t just not be curious. “What do you mean ‘everyone’s always taking your… juice’?”

“I mean they’re always taking my juice. What else could that sentence mean?”

“What are they taking your juice for?” And what did he even mean by ‘juice’? But one question at a time.

“To put in health packs and stuff so they can heal up real fast when they get a boo-boo. You should really pay better attention when people are talking.”

Gordon skidded to a halt, too shocked to be annoyed by the implication he hadn’t been paying attention. “You mean the healing stuff in the health stations and health packs that Black Mesa makes are filled with your… juice?”

Benrey continued on for a couple more steps before realizing Gordon had stopped. He turned back to face him. Before he could get a word out though, Gordon interrupted.

“And before you accuse me of not paying attention again, I am paying complete and total attention. I just want clarification because I was told it was just a compound one of the teams in Black Mesa invented in a lab. There was never any mention of any juice from any… whatever the fuck you are.”

Benrey frowned, smacking his lips a couple times in seeming thought. “I told them to tell people. But yeah, they take my juice, mix it from something to make it go further and last longer, then put it in the medkits and stuff.”

He could still be lying, trying to mess with Gordon through making him believe he’d injected himself with Benrey’s ‘juice’ a fuckton of times over the years and especially in the last week. But on the other hand, he did undoubtedly have some crazy regenerative properties, healing from gunshot wounds like it was no problem, so of course someone in Black Mesa would try to harness and use that if they could. And from what he knew, a not insubstantial amount of Black Mesa’s funding had come from selling those medkits, often through shady channels if the rumors were to believed.

The realization that Benrey had been at Black Mesa as far more than a security guard wasn’t surprising as he was the exact kind of thing many of the scientists there liked to poke, study, and use. What was surprising though was that they’d managed to contain him. Congrats to them, if only they’d managed to keep him locked up.

Shaking off the shock, Gordon resumed walking. Though he moved slower than before; he was tired and not done with this conversation. So this time, Benrey falling in step next to him was exactly what he wanted. “Okay, knowing I’ve been injected with your… juice is kinda gross. I guess how gross depends on what exactly you mean by ‘juice’. Is it your blood or… or… where do they draw it from?”

Benrey shrugged. “Why do you wanna know? Gonna try to steal some to grow your hand back faster?”

Would straight from the source be enough for such a thing? The medkits and health stations could do a lot, up to and including healing bullets wounds as he’d learned the hard way, but they couldn’t grow back lost limbs. That had been stressed pretty hard in training to prevent people from getting too reckless. But even straight from the source could… “No. I may not like you but stealing your blood or… whatever you mean by ‘juice’ wouldn’t be something I want to stoop to.” Even if he did have some right to because it was Benrey who had caused his arm to get chopped off in the first place. “Gotta try to return to having some sense of morality now that I’m outta that nightmare. Besides, I doubt it would work. Unlike whatever you are, human limbs don’t grow back once they’re cut off. If you’re quick and the cut is clean enough it can sometimes be reattached but that’s the most anyone’s ever been able to do even with the medkit goo.”

“Wait, what do you mean? Of course it’s gonna grow back, it just takes longer ‘cause all your healing stuff takes longer for some reason.” Did he really not know or was he messing with Gordon, trying to get an angry raise out of him? Either way the only thing making it easy to resist the temptation to shoot him in the face was the fact so many other people were around and would see.

“No. It’s never growing back. It physically can’t grow back. My hand’s gone for good and there’s nothing I do can do to change that.” It was old news by now but saying it out loud made it more real somehow. A tinge of panic threatened to crawl up his throat and take his breath and thought away. A part of his body was gone, chopped off and replaced with a gun of all things. A tool good only for hurting and killing.

He had to stop walking and step to the side to lean against a nearby building so he could focus on just breathing. In and out… in and out… he wasn’t having a panic attack today. He was far too exhausted to put up with that. He’d freak out about it again later! Right now he just needed a place to rest and relax and that was the only thing he was going to be thinking about until he got there. Nothing else in the world existed but that goal.

It took a couple minutes but he eventually steadied himself. Full blown panic attacked averted – for the moment at least – he took one last deep breath before looking up again. Benrey stood before him, his expression unreadable as the watched Gordon. “You for real? It ain’t gonna grow back?”

Gordon was tempted to resume walking and hopefully leave him behind but… “You seriously thought it would?”

“Yep. But… I guess that explains why it’s been taking so long, huh? Humans are even weaker than I thought. Oops.” There was an emotion in his voice that his natural monotone made hard to place. “Guess you’re just gonna have to be Gordon Gunhandman now, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Don’t think about it too much! Gordon pushed off the building and resumed walking towards hopefully the hotel. He could be angry at Benrey for thinking the whole thing was just a prank, causing nothing but mild inconvenience, later when he had more energy. The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon, the sky darkening. In another couple hours it would set and the cold would creep in. Hopefully he’d be clean and in a real bed by then. While they were still walking though and to change the subject… “Do you give them your… juice,” gosh, he couldn’t believe they were still calling it that, “willingly? Like do they pay you?”

Benrey was quiet for a few seconds before replying. “They let me go wherever I want in the facility ‘long as as I cooperate.” Implying they’d otherwise force him to and then keep him locked up in whatever kind of cage they’d invented that could hold him. So no, he didn’t do it willingly, he just didn’t want to say that right now. And honestly, Gordon couldn’t blame him. Who would want to admit that kind of thing to their enemy?

Silence settled between them after that. Gordon still had questions but was too tired to try to find a way to ask them that might actually get him some sort of answer from Benrey. And perhaps, maybe, just maybe, Benrey was finally feeling guilty enough about the hand thing to make him uncomfortable enough to want to stop talking for once. That sure would be nice. Either way they didn’t exchange another word until Benrey pointed out the hotel up ahead. Thank all that was still good in the world, he hadn’t been lying about the direction.

It was old and visibly rundown on the outside. The inside though looked more modern and even if the carpeted floor looked like it could do with a deep clean, it wasn’t bad. In all it was all exactly what one should expect from cheap hotel in a small town in the middle of nowhere. To Gordon though, it might as well be the gates of heaven.

He beelined for the receptionist’s desk, before he got there though…

“Hello Gordon!”

He stopped, turning to see Dr. Coomer, Bubby, and Tommy, seemingly waiting for him as they stood from the plush chairs set off to the side.

“What took you so long?” Bubby said before turning his glare onto Benrey. “And aren’t supposed to be dead.”

“He doesn’t stay dead, remember?” Gordon interrupted before Benrey could reply and probably start something. “It’s annoying but there’s nothing we can do about it so try not let it bother you and maybe eventually he’ll get bored and go away. But why are you guys here?”

It was Tommy who answered. “Because Mr. Freeman, Black Mesa, isn’t exactly a cozy place to live anymore right now so um… we came here, looking for rooms. We wanted to invite you too but um… you ran off so fast we didn’t even know which direction you went in. But uh… it makes sense you’d come here, right? ‘Cause it’s uh… the only hotel in town. So we were waiting for you.”

“We weren’t sure if you had money to pay for your own room,” Dr. Coomer added. “So we discussed it and decided we would wait for you here to ask if you need the financial assistance. So Gordon, do you have need for us to pay for a room for you? We haven’t paid for our own rooms yet because we thought you might want to be our neighbor after all we’ve been through together.”

Gordon wouldn’t have thought they’d take the time to think he might need help affording a place to sleep for the night. They’d even sat here and waited for him after he’d rushed off and left them behind at Chuck E. Cheese. People going so far out of their way for him wasn’t something he’d ever experienced before. It was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“They waited,” Bubby cut in before Gordon could do more than take a deep breath to hold back the tears, “I wanted to hurry up and get a move on.”

“He was about to get up and go looking for you,” Tommy said in an almost whisper that Bubby had to have heard though he seemed to be set on pretending he hadn’t.

“Thanks. I…I appreciate it a lot, like… yeah. But um… I should still have my wallet on me and its got my debit card in it so I should be fine. It’s uh… under the suit though. Which, I’m probably gonna need help taking off since there’s not a thingy to take it off anywhere here for obvious reasons. So uh, actually…”

“I’ll pay for your room tonight,” Tommy cut in as he trailed off.

“Thanks, I owe you one.” A big one because gosh, Gordon would just about kill for a real bed right now.

“What ‘bout me?” Benrey of course hadn’t left. “Do I get a room too?”

“Of course, I’ll pay for a room for you too.” Tommy didn’t sound at all bothered by Benrey’s presence. Not too surprising, they’d seemed to have been friends before the resonance cascade. Apparently things hadn’t changed too much.

“Well, let’s hop to it.” Dr. Coomer didn’t seem bothered either as he started for the receptionist’s desk. “Daylight’s wasting, as they say.”

Welp, seems Gordon’s time with the Science Team wasn’t done yet. He… didn’t mind though. Despite everything, he had grown fond of them and they’d been through a lot together. And they were willing to wait for him and help him out and willing to talk to the receptionist to sort out the room situation, meaning he didn’t have to. What more could he possibly ask for in friends?

“We’re currently in the middle of a big renovation project,” the receptionist was saying as Gordon, trailing along at the back of the group, caught up. “Between that and everyone here to attend the Cacti Enthusiasts Conference, there are currently only three rooms available. So, um, some of you are going to have share for at least tonight. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” Dr. Coomer was apparently in charge of the transaction. Maybe not the wisest but it was probably fine. He turned to look at Gordon. “Hello Gordon! It turns out, some of us are going to have to share a room.”

“That’s fine. I don’t care.” They’d all been sleeping in the same room since they’d met anyway. Sharing space for a little while longer wasn’t going to hurt any of them. Just as long as Gordon didn’t end up rooming with Benrey anyway.

“Dibs on bunking with Feetman.” It was almost as if Benrey had just read that thought and decided to ruin the mostly good vibes Gordon had just been feeling because of it. “Gotta make sure he don’t steal nothing.”

Gordon lifted his gun arm, pointing it at Benrey’s face. He held it there for a grand total of two seconds before lowering it though. “Fine. I don’t care.” Getting upset was what Benrey wanted from him and he wasn’t giving him that. Never again. … And besides, revealing he had a gun for an arm and Benrey was some kind of something that wasn’t human would call attention to them from the authorities. Bad in general but after how many US soldiers they’d killed, lying super low for probably the rest of their lives was wise. So he wasn’t going to cause a scene. Even if that meant putting up with god damn Benrey. If Benrey killed him in his sleep then so be it, he barely cared anymore as long as he got to sleep properly in a real bed for several hours beforehand.

~

After some discussion it was decided Dr. Coomer and Bubby would share a room too and Tommy would get one to himself because he was paying for two of them and, “Sunkist will want to share with me when she catches up.” They weren’t neighbors but they did luck into all being in the same hallway even if one of them was way at the end of it while the others two were closer to the opposite side.

They all gathered in the far room first, ostensibly to help Gordon take the HEV suit off. The only one really helping though was Tommy, though Bubby did talk through what he knew of the suit’s built in fail-safes should it need to be taken off manually which helped a lot. Dr. Coomer offered to take it off for three Play Coinstm but not wanting to go into debt in a currency he had no idea the rules of, Gordon had declined.

Partway through the process he regretted declining that offer. The suit was designed to be taken off by a machine, the means to take it off manually had been an afterthought. A just in case the world ended and thus said machine had no power and/or had been destroyed. Not exactly something anyone thought was likely to happen given Black Mesa largely being underground, making it suitable as an impromptu bomb shelter, complete with a host of backup generators not connected to the main power grid. His strong hand being replaced with a gun made it even more difficult, resulting in Tommy doing most of the work of taking it off. Making it a mortifying ordeal; he needed help getting undressed like some kind of giant toddler.

But finally after way too long, the suit was off and in a pile on the floor next to him. He suddenly felt much lighter and less sturdy, like a slight breeze could blow him over. His clothes were a rumbled, horrid, sweat stained mess but he was free at long, long last. “Thanks Tommy, I owe you big time.”

“Don’t… don’t worry about it Mr. Freeman. But, um, maybe you should take a shower before going to bed. Not that um… just, you know… a thought.”

“You stink,” Bubby said.

“I’m afraid he’s right, Gordon,” Coomer said, putting a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, “you smell like you’ve bathed in the concentrated stench of all the locker rooms in the world combined.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Gordon could tell them that they all stank too because they did but sans the suit, he did smell substantially worse. Other than the part at the waist that could be moved aside to allow the wearer to use the toilet, his body had been encased in metal for days with no break. During which he’d been running around and getting his literal hand cut off and having the single most stressful experience of his life, resulting in quite a lot of sweat that had had nowhere to go. So he did indeed reek to high heaven and as hard the bed had called to him earlier, it was now nothing compared to his need for a shower.

“I’ll uh, go do that now. Thanks again Tommy for paying for the room tonight and uh, helping get the armor off. We’ll talk more tomorrow morning, I guess. Goodnight.” With a chorus of good night from the three of them, Gordon stepped into the bathroom.

Hot showers were always nice but this one was downright magical. Even the hotel’s cheap soap and shampoo felt luxurious and smelled divine. It was awkward using his left hand but he was getting used it to and thus fairly quickly got some sort of a hang on it. He could adapt, he could make it through this. The nightmare was over, he’d survived it, everything was going to be okay now.

He washed himself multiple times, trying to get rid of every bit of dirt and grim that had stuck to his skin. Rinsing and repeating until he felt rubbed raw, then he just stood there under the hot water. It would’ve been easy to stay like that for hours and hours if not for the way the hot water easing his sore muscles also reminded him of his exhaustion. If it were the kind of shower that doubled as a tub, he’d likely have just lain down in it and gone to sleep. So it was probably for the best that it was just a stand up shower as that would’ve been dangerous and awful once the water ran cold.

Instead, with a longing sigh, he turned the water off and stepped out. The provided towels were scratchy but clean so he barely cared. Once he was about as dry as he cared to bother making himself, he took one look at his discarded clothing before putting on one of the hotel’s bathrobes instead. It was also stiff and scratchy but it was be better than going nude because he’d rather burn his old clothes than put them back on. Tomorrow he’d coordinate with the others to get them all clean clothing.

Upon stepping out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth with just his finger – the hotel had toothpaste but no toothbrushes so that was another thing he needed – he took two steps towards the bed before stopping. Somehow he’d forgotten Benrey had called dibs on bunking with him.

“You steal that?” He asked as he looked up from where he sat on one of the room’s two chair’s next to the room’s one bed. It was a big bed but still… oh no. Maybe, hopefully, he didn’t need to sleep though.

“No, it comes with the room. You can and should go take a shower now too.” Gordon gestured towards it.

Benrey lowered the remote he’d been presumably flipping through channels with based off the fact that the TV was and playing what looked to be a infomercial. “Huh? Why?”

To get him out of Gordon’s hair long enough for him to fall asleep but also…“’Cause you’re nasty.” Even if whatever he was didn’t sweat and thus body order wouldn’t be as much of an issue, he’d been through some pretty disgusting places in Black Mesa and thus needed cleansing regardless. “And don’t put those clothes back on either also because they’re nasty. There’s another couple bathrobes in there instead. We’ll get clean ones tomorrow sometime. And when you’re done, if you’re gonna kill me in my sleep, please do me a favor and at least wait until I’ve slept for like… five hours before you do it, okay?”

Benrey opened his mouth to respond but before he could get a single word out, Gordon snatched the remote from him, earning a, “Hey, rude,” instead of whatever he’d been going to say. He then turned off TV before flipping off the light and crawling into bed, keeping the remote with him to make it harder for Benrey to steal it back. Benrey said something else, his voice a protest, but as soon as Gordon’s head hit the pillow he was already starting to drift off, making his exact words indecipherable. He’d deal with Benrey tomorrow, right now he really, truly didn’t care anymore.

Chapter 2: But You Owe Me

#hlvrai #frenrey #benrey #gordon freeman hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware

[cactusandfir]

#uh might fuck around and get invested in the caps... #after drafting that entire first line to my fantasy team #oops #caps

[1kook]

commercial break; SEVEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series ! happens a few months before part 7 

summary; And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan.  warnings; horny jk, jk wants to roleplay... everyone point n laugh, mentions of his impreg kink lol, making out, tits, honestly jk is just very horny n in love lol, jk in a vampire costume w fangs O_o rating; mature (18+) wc; 2k

notes; if u don’t know who lindsay is first of all ur sick, second of all here’s my queen’s top moments. also i just gotta say, this was originally gonna be a larger fic (a halloween special) for my ncouple, but i got a lil busy with school n ultimately didn't have time to invest in this as a whole installment so..... enjoy this commercial break instead!!

Jungkook loves Halloween.

He loves the pumpkin carving and the decorating. Loves the spooky music and the abundance of candy. He loves it, absolutely adores it, and for the second year in a row, he gets to spend it with you! Yet another person he loves very much.

He doesn’t remember ever being this excited for Halloween. Last year, you had roped him into going to some frat party with him, had egged him on, begged so cutely that it was your last year in college, baby until he caved. The two of you had spent the night drinking until you blacked out, Ubering home with your costumes half on, and then unceremoniously fucking in his living room with the blinds wide open.

(The next neighborhood meeting had been very awkward for Jungkook.)

It was his first time ever drinking with you like that, and he vaguely remembers, through his own drunken gaze, how cool you had been. Had absolutely owned a bunch of greasy football players at beer pong in your little sexy nurse costume. And when the crowd cheered your name, shrieked in awe, it had been him that you turned to for praise. “Did you see me, baby,” you had giggled, crowded him against the wall of this random house until Jungkook was sweating profusely. In lieu of a costume, he had worn a silly jogger set with a skeleton design that was supposed to glow in the dark, according to Amazon. You had told him he looked adorable, had kissed and squeezed his cheeks until Jungkook was a flustered mess.

It was still early into your relationship— if Jungkook did the math, you were only about five months in at that point —so he didn’t know how else to cope with the rapid thundering of his heart, the confession sitting on his tongue, the then scary L-word begging to be heard. So, he took you home and fucked you until your little nurse cap slid off your head and you were begging for him to let you cum, thus earning him his first ever offense for violating the neighborhood rules (i.e., traumatizing a group of middle schoolers by fucking in plain sight).

Long story short, Jungkook loves Halloween, and he loves it even more when he gets to spend it with you.

(He’ll never admit it, but he’s a hard romantic. He wants to do cheesy things with you, like cuddle you into his arms when you get scared, pat your head until you can look at whatever is happening on screen again. He wants you to feel safe in his arms, wants to be your refuge when things become too much. He likes to think he’s done a pretty good job so far.)

Jungkook’s plan goes like this:

First, welcome you with that Halloween basket you’ve been sending him tweet links about all month. The cute little Jack-O-lantern candy bucket stuffed with candy and hair ties and a soft Halloween themed blanket. It’s so cheesy, makes him blush when he catches sight of it in his closet, but Jungkook will do anything to please you.

Next, after presenting you with your Halloween gift and having you coo and tell him he’s a good boy, he’ll invite you to break your new soft blanket in. The living room will be prepared with an assortment of your favorite foods, the flat screen ready to play whatever horror movie the two of you settle on.

And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare.

It’s a perfect plan.

It’s the best way to spend his favorite holiday, with his favorite girl by his side and some of his favorite horror films on the big screen. Jungkook spends all of October geeked up for it, even considers hanging up lights around the living room to really set the mood. He’s so excited, can’t wait to spend another wonderful holiday at home with you, that he doesn’t fully realize why you haven’t brought up the long awaited topic of costumes.

“You like?” you ask, standing at the door of his bathroom with a sultry look in your eye, tits practically pouring out of the tight top you’ve wiggled into, skin oiled up scandalously. He fumbles with the fake vampire fang prosthetics he’d been trying to glue in for the better half of an hour.

He had heard the door open downstairs when you got here, had called out his mandatory greeting as he heard you come up the stairs. But none of that had prepared him for the sight of you in… whatever this was.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand exactly what you’re supposed to be dressed up as until the two of you are back downstairs—blinds drawn, full moon slipping in through the cracks—with some random horror movie pulled up on the TV. “I’m Lindsey,” you whine, brand new fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It shields your boobs from view, but he’s not sure if that’s a win or a loss. “From Total Drama Island!”

He settles in beside you, doesn’t get too comfortable because it’s nearing sundown now and he knows the herds of children are bound to start flowing in. “Uh huh,” he says mindlessly. His collar feels itchy, the overly-detailed vampire costume he meticulously scoured the internet for being one size too small. You snuggle into his side anyway.

“You don’t know anything about cinematic masterpieces,” you frown, avidly tuned into The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, because apparently you love horror movies all of a sudden, a fact that genuinely throws Jungkook off. He’s not sure what it is about you that had deluded him into thinking you would be a scaredy cat, but he doesn’t take the new bit of information too hard.

The doorbell rings right as the first gorey scene ends and you make a big show of huffing and whining as he rushes to answer it. But it’s only the beginning of the long night that awaits, and, as Jungkook comes to find, running back and forth from the door to the couch is harder than it seems.

Anyway, Jungkook’s neighborhood is a little posh, or ‘bougie’ as you like to claim, and trick-or-treating hours end a little before eleven pm. By then he’s tired, having refused your offer to switch places in fear that your boob might fall out of that scrap of fabric you call a top and earn him his second neighborly offense.

However, that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your boobs falling out in private.

“Stupid,” you giggle when he gets caught in his long cape, the sound slowly melting into a whimper as he slips his hands beneath your top, fighting with the ridiculous push-up bra you’ve donned tonight. Hands tangle in his hair, mess up the careful side part he’d styled up for tonight, and legs lock around his waist. “Your curtains closed?” you tease.

He huffs, catches your chatty lips with his roughly, presses and presses until your mouth must bruise. He belatedly remembers about those sharp fangs he’d glued on—hey, if he was going to dress up as some gaudy monster it might as well be realistic—and doesn’t realize until he tries to bite your neck and you let out a little yelp. Truthfully, he feels bad right away, but then you’re practically dissolving in his arms so he plays along. “Shh,” he hisses.

The roar of a chainsaw and terrified screams fill the living room, almost drowning out the soft sounds you release by his ear. “O- Or what?” you pant, flinch when he pushes your sad excuse of a skirt up over your waist. “Gonna b- bite me?”

And so Jungkook does.

You shriek. “That hurts, you idiot!” you scold with a tiny whine in your voice, but Jungkook’s cock is so hard. Your tiny, tight outfit does you no favors. Tits in his face, tiny thong against his bulge. He wants to make you sob, litter bites and marks all over your skin until his love makes you ache. You must see the crazed look in his eyes, because you drop the scowl. “Hey,” you say slowly, hand on his chest. “You look like you’re gonna eat me.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wonders if you can feel his thundering heart beneath your palm. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning away to regain his senses. Was it something in the air? Was it the fatigue? The full moon? Why did he want to fold you in half and fuck his cock into you until you were a crying, shivering mess? Something about you tonight, laid out for him to take, makes him feel absolutely insane. Starved and psycho; he just wants to take and take until you don’t have anything more to give. He purses his lips, tries to ignore the hot feeling in his lower abdomen when your hardened nipples register to his eyes. “I think I’m becoming evil.”

Of all the idiotic things his brain can come up with, this one is definitely top five. His cheeks flush right after, fueled by the boisterous laughter that escapes your lips at his statement. “Oh my god,” you gasp in glee, hands falling down beside your head. “You’re becoming evil?’

Jungkook frowns, flopping down on top of you to hide the embarrassment that paints his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your neck, warm and safe.

A hand cards through the back of his hair, nails dig lightly into his scalp. “Aren’t you the cutest little vampire,” you coo, seemingly ignoring the rock hard cock Jungkook presses against your thigh. He’s still so horny, has this sick thought that he could just pin you down right here, tear that silly costume to shreds and swallow you up in his lust. But your voice is so sweet, has his eyes fluttering shut as you gather him in his arms. “Silly vampire,” you hum, one leg thrown around his hip, a subtle roll of you hips up into him.

Jungkook huffs, licks a flat strip along the base of your neck. It draws a shaky exhale from you, has your hands digging into his back when he begins to slowly lap against the skin, nibble and tug until your back is deliciously arching up into him. “Wanna push you down,” he confesses quietly, hands securing themselves against your hips as he leans back. You're all dazed, eyes trained on his fanged mouth when he hesitantly adds, “l- little human.”

You could laugh, tease him for his sudden weird need to role play with you, but you don’t. A look of understanding crosses your face, sly smirk slowly following. “Oh?” you grin, hand coming around to cup his cheek. “The little vampire wants to use my body?” Jungkook tightens his jaw at your jab, but nods nonetheless.

You’re a feast before his eyes. Boobs in his face, pussy begging to be filled. You’re his, just like Jungkook is yours. And when you indulge him and his stupid whims—kinks, he should say, occasional interests that sometimes make him question himself—his heart feels warm and full. Proud and unashamed, like the truest version of himself when you look at him with those eyes. And your words only confirm it.

Your hands reach down for your top, pull the flimsy material over your head in one swoop that has your bra coming off with it. It drops to the floor. If it makes a sound, Jungkook doesn’t hear it over the shrieks of terror on screen. the blood deaths, the suspenseful music. All he hears is he hammering of his heart. 

It’s two of your sneaky fingers that come up to play, pinch one nipple tenderly as you meet his eyes. “It’s all yours,” you purr. “I’m all yours.”

And the thirst he feels, well. It’s a little vampiric, to say the least. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡ #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jeongguk smut #mine

[parkersjiggle]

I have a starker prompt! Person A is in love with Person B. Person A thinks it's hopeless cause they're just friends. Person A doesn't realize that Person B returns his feelings. People around them refer to Person B as his boyfriend and he thinks they're just teasing him until one day he realizes that everyone thinks they're actually in a relationship. Including Person B. This whole time Person B just thought they were taking things slow. Up to you which is Peter and which is Tony.

Hi! Thanks for the prompt! It’s my first time ever writing/posting my work so I hope I didn’t disappoint, also English isn’t my first language but that shouldn’t be a problem.

“Hey Tony!” Peter practically yelled, tossing his backpack in the air and shooting a web to pin it against the wall. Tony always pretended to be annoyed at this even though he secretly found it pretty funny.

“Sweetheart, you know you can just place your backpack on the couch? You‘re capable of that right?” He replied amused and winked at the young man.

Peter instantly went red “y-yeah um I, I- know it’s just more fun this way” he flinched at his own awkwardness and resisted the urge to hide his face. That’s been happening a lot recently. He didn’t quite understand where all the pet names were coming from all of a sudden but damn he wasn’t complaining. Peter risked a glance at the man, standing and petting Dum-E’s head, and smiled, quickly looking back down to hide his scarlet cheeks.

It was truly unfair though. Tony was in a white tank top, the fabric clinging to his muscles in all the right places and his hair was a little tousled and sweaty. “How can a person be this freaking hot?” he thought. But that wasn’t the only thing that attracted him to Tony, oh no, it was also his sense of humor, his intelligence, his kindness, his generosity, his ambitions, his sarcasm, his strength, the way he carried himself, the soft and real smiles he only showed to a select amount of people... yeah he was in deep. Maybe if it was only Tony’s looks that made Peter’s knees a useless sack of jello, he could’ve gotten over him a long time ago. At the end of the day there were a lot of attractive people, but that doesn’t mean you have to be in love with them right? But no, he just had to be in love with a man he could never have. Hopeless. That’s what it was. For now though he decidedly catalogues that pet name in his mind so he can unravel it over and over again when he’s laying in bed later.

Peter blinked and shook himself from his stupor “uh anyways, what’ve you got for me to work on today, Tony?”. Calling Mr Stark by his first name was another thing he’s been getting used to, but the man sat him down a few weeks ago and insisted that now he really couldn’t have it if Peter still called him Mr. Stark and to please please please with a cherry on top call him Tony. To be fair everything from that conversation was a little fuzzy to him since he got stabbed on patrol that day and Tony had cried and yelled and hugged and softened all at once. He couldn’t quite grasp why suddenly it was so important to call him Tony now since it kind of became an inside joke between them, but I guess logically at some point it had to come to an end and how could Peter refuse anyway? He liked the familiarity that came with it. It made him feel more like an equal.

“Uh actually, Pete, I thought we could head upstairs and watch a movie together? You know, leave the lab for once. I’ve got popcorn and I’m pretty sure Nat and Cap will want to join us too.” Peter frowned and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Tony wanted to watch a movie with him? He actually suggested to leave the lab in order to do something mundane and domestic? What was going on... Tony mistook Peter’s silence and confusion for hesitation and quickly added “I mean we don’t have to. We can just work on your web-“

“No! No, I mean I would love to. I’d like that actually.” Oh God he sounded way too eager. “Might be a nice change of scenery” he concluded, trying to be a little more casual about it.

Tony‘s lips twitched reassuringly at the other brunette “Let’s go then, darling.” a warm feeling spread all over him and it tenfolded when Tony actually grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together to guide him up the stairs.

“Go sit, I’ll pop the corn. Save me a seat next to you, kay?” Tony asked as he walked off towards the kitchen, not really expecting an answer. Peter mumbled a “yeah” under his breath anyway. He stood there for a good minute just smiling to himself.

“Hey spiderbaby, come sit” Nat had a knowing smirk on her face as she lifted her legs off the couch so she could sit more upright and make room for the two. Peter tried to scold his features into a look of indifference even if he realized it was probably useless already. What was the point in faking it in front of a super spy who could probably see through Peter as if he’s actually transparent.

When they both settled on the couch Natasha’s eyes snapped up from the tv and she frowned slightly as she tilted her head at Peter “So, how’s the boyfriend doing? He treating you good or do I have to go all assassin on him?”

Peter felt his cheeks warm up and shifted a bit as he let out a dramatic sigh “I really wish you would stop teasing me with that, you know? I just.. He doesn’t even li- Oh God he’s coming over. Ssht!” he lost his train of thought and pretended to be very invested in whatever was going on with his sleeves. Natasha looked a little puzzled at his reaction but decided not to say anything.

“Guess what? Popcorn AND pizza. How awesome am I?“ Peter finally lifted his gaze and stared at him with what could only be described as exasperated fondness. “You’re okay I guess”

“Hey now” Tony wagged a finger in Peter’s direction as he flopped down closely next to Peter “I’m feeding you, the least you could do is feed my ego in return” Tony joked, giving Peter a halfhearted glare that Peter rolled his eyes at as he grabbed a handful of popcorn.

Peter hurriedly swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and somehow mustered the courage to look into Tony’s whiskey colored eyes. “Okay then. You’re pretty great- no, scratch that, you’re really great. You’re the best actually. And I just-“

“PLEASE, I beg of you, stop the flirting already. I’m trying to enjoy my movie and this is more painful than any torture technique I’ve ever experimented with.” Natasha interrupted Peter’s rambling.

Peter’s first instinct was to deflect and deny. He wanted to say that he was simply complementing, stating the truth even, but definitely not flirting. Any protesting however was quickly forgotten when Tony pulled Peter’s blanketed form across his lap, smushing Peter’s cheek against Tony’s thigh as he gently ran his fingers through Peter’s messy chocolate locks. “Oh Nat, don’t be jealous. I’m sure you’ll find someone someday” he didn’t face Nat though, simply grinning down at the younger man in his lap.

Peter couldn’t believe his ears and it only got more confusing and complicated when Nat spoke next “No, in all seriousness, I’m really happy for you two. You’re great together and you’re changing each other for the better. I mean Peter, you’re more giggly and joyeus than ever and Tony you’re actually taking breaks more often, eating when you’re supposed to... it’s good that you’re dating”

“You’re right”

“WHAT?”

They spoke at the same time and suddenly Tony’s eyebrows furrowed as Peter pulled his head out of Tony’s lap. “What’s wrong?” He questioned with a hint of concern in his voice.

“What do you mean “what’s wrong”? You’re not weirded out or anything?” Peter’s eyes were comically large.

“Why would I be weirded out? Wait- don’t you think we’re... you don’t think we’re good together? Do you want to break up with me or something?” Tony’s eyes were a little glossy and he started fidgeting with a pillow next to him.

Natasha took that as her cue to leave, silently as ever, not that Peter would’ve noticed anything either way. “Break up? What? I- how- I mean? We’re... we’re dating?”

“Are you kidding me? I call you sweetheart and darling all the time. I look at you like you’re my entire world, which you are by the way, and I- I mean I thought we were just taking it slow, but you... you really didn’t know? What did you think we were doing?” He sounded a lot lighter and he could even start to see the hilarity of the situation. “We had a whole ass conversation about this. I said I couldn’t waste any more time pining over you and not being with you, since in our line of work every day could be our last. Were you not there or something? Cause I’m pretty sure I wasn’t talking to myself though but then again-“

“You mean when I GOT STABBED? I think there was a lot of blood loss going on at that moment!” Tony winced at the reminder. “Fuck... just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot”.

And Tony did.

#starker #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #stabbing #didn’t know they were dating #starkerprompt #ironspider #fluff #angst #Peter Parker needs a hug #Tony Stark needs a hug #hurt/comfort #Peter is like 20 in this idk #tooth-rotting fluff #peter parker/tony stark

[minnochu]

Wonderwall (pt. 7)

Yoongi x f!Reader

Cursed | Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated Wonderwall. Mostly because I’ve hit a wall in the storyline and where I want to take this story. I know it was kind of a big WTF AUTHOR when I made Cursed a figment of Reader’s coma-induced dream, but yknow... I love angst like a mf ;’). 

...

The meeting with the solo artist goes without a hitch. You take the instructions from the general manager seriously, doing your best to learn and memorize as much as you can so you don’t hinder Yoongi. It keeps you busy at work, and that gives you a sense of purpose and confidence. A feeling you were missing before the incident, and now you feel invigorated and motivated to meet Yoongi’s expectations as his assistant. 

Everything seemed great, nothing could knock you down.

Beyond work hours however, this has to be the fourth time now that Namjoon can’t make dinner at home with you. The following morning of the first absence, he stumbles into the kitchen when he wakes up with your side of the bed empty. His hair is an absolute mess, eyes distraught and groggy as he looks around in a state of panic to find you at the stove. You had heard his loud shuffling from the bedroom, doors whining from being ripped open and closed. Arms had wrapped around you from behind, his nose buried into your hair with a relieved sigh.

It had momentarily relieved you to feel him close to you. Almost making you forget of his prior absence.

“I thought I lost you again,” his baritone voice, laced with the remnants of sleep, whispered into your neck that morning, his hands quivering at your waist. You almost hated yourself for even having any minuscule ounce of contempt for him leaving you to have dinner by yourself. The poor man was probably scarred by your attempt at your life, waking up with you gone must have been terrifying. 

It had only made you feel worse about your growing interest in Min Yoongi, like you were taking Namjoon’s love and throwing it on the floor, stamping all over it with your feet. All for what? A coma-induced dream? A man who you knew nothing about, only from the made up persona your mind had made up of him.

Nights like these, however? You didn’t feel remorse. Your phone feels like it’s burning into your thigh, weighing down and tucked into the pocket of your dress pants. Declining Hoseok’s offer to walk you home once again, you find yourself perusing the local market for a beer and maybe some quick meal you can fix up for yourself. After the first two times the dancer had walked you home, you felt like you were only becoming a bother to have him take you home constantly.

You assume Namjoon has dinner before he returns home in the ass crack of two in the morning, your dinner for two usually sitting nicely in the fridge - untouched - when you wake up the morning after. Perhaps, you can spare yourself the pity party in the morning with a fulfilling meal for just yourself, some alcohol, and a cringy romance movie on Netflix - one your teenage self would have cried and gushed over.

“What are you doing?” 

You blink, torn from your thoughts to find yourself staring rather harshly at a pack of raw chicken wings. Looking up, you darn yourself for looking like a fool when Yoongi is standing there - in all his stupidly handsome glory - with a sooty eyebrow cocked. Glancing between the meat in your hands and your boss, you blink multiple times before your face goes nearly beet red. It was starting to get weird when he was expecting a response, and you were most definitely gawking at him like an owl.

“Uh, just wondering what I should eat for dinner tonight.”

He eyes the four pack of beer in your shopping basket, then the chicken wings in your hand before snorting. “Someone kick your puppy? Looks like you’re about to cry yourself to sleep with a terrible romcom movie.”

Ouch. Right on the dot, you wince, and he notices this with a frown.

“Where’s Joon?”

“Meeting with a client probably, he’ll probably be coming home late again,” you say flippantly, tossing the wings into your basket and moving on to look for ingredients for the sauce, “What about Jinri?”

You don’t mean to put a distasteful emphasis on the word “again”, but it leaves your mouth and your boss catches it easily with a cocked brow. If he did or didn’t, you didn’t know as he doesn’t show any reaction.

“She’s got a job out of the city for overnight, thought I’d kick back with a drink tonight,” he muses, glancing down at the identical pack of beer in his hands, “She usually cooks, so I’m kind of useless in the kitchen.”

Say it. You bite your lip. Say it.

No. Don’t say it. That’s inappropriate.

“Did you want to join me? F-for dinner, I mean… Just beer and some hot wings… and a movie…”

Fuck, why did you say it?

“That’s a little inappropriate, (Y/n),” Yoongi cracks a sly smirk and you immediately start backtracking with your cheeks burning brightly in embarrassment. Shame and humility hitting you square in the face at the obvious reaction as your stomach flips with dread at the consequence of your stupid mouth.

I mean, what else were you expecting him to say? Oh yes (Y/n), I would love to, not that I, a taken man - who also happens to be your boss - finds anything wrong with having dinner with a taken woman such as yourself. It’s totally appropriate with the way you’ve been constantly thinking about him either. 

“N-no, well, you’re right, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way… I just meant it as a friendly offer and thanks for giving me this job and you know…” 

You’re stammering, tripping over words and barely breathing to the point that your face has gone pink in its entirety and Yoongi finds that cute.

Wait. What?

“I’ll accept your invite, free food amirite?” He shrugs, his lips twitching into a slight smile at your explosion. His eyes glance elsewhere, chewing the inside of his cheek at the thought. 

Damn him, you sigh in exasperation, although relieved. Relieved that he didn’t clown you for inviting him, or that he was willing to eat dinner and drink you with you, you weren’t sure.

As you prepare the chicken, leaving the wings to marinade in the spicy sauce you made, you faintly hear Yoongi in the living room put on a movie.

“I hope you don’t mind, I put on Inception,” He says, walking into the kitchen area to watch over your cooking prep. Although you shoo him back to the living room, more than slightly self conscious to have Yoongi watching you cook for the two of you.

That and you didn’t want the possible torture your heart might go through, thinking about just how slightly domestic it felt cooking for the two of you. Such thoughts were dangerous. And right now, growing fond of or anywhere near more than your obvious attraction was not good for your heart or your relationship with Namjoon. Even if he barely had time to spend with you. 

Inception. It was a good movie. You move in and out of the kitchen to catch glimpses of the beginning sequences to work on the chicken and some simple side dishes before you can finally bring out the finished products when the movie has reached a little passed the half way point. You almost feel bad for having to tear his eyes away from the screen when he looks so invested in the happenings of the film. 

“Smells good,” he comments as you set the dishes on the coffee table, he helps out in popping off the caps of two beers, offering one to you, “Have you watched before?”

And it goes on like this. Casually eating and small talk about the movie until the credits roll and you pick out the next movie since he had picked the first one. So, without further ado, you go with your original pick, with or without Yoongi being there.

A romcom.

His face goes from relaxed and content to sour with distaste real quick. It’s adorable, you quietly note despite yourself.

“Explain to me… why we’re watching this cringey piece of shit?” Yoongi groans ten minutes into the romance movie you put on.

“Listen, I was originally planning on drowning myself in terrible romance movies and beer before you joined in, deal with it.”

“You’re the one who invited me.”

“How do you even handle that amount of second hand embarrassment?!” He later whines, showing more emotion than you’ve ever seen from him in the last few weeks you’ve known the man. It must’ve been the alcohol loosening him up, which was weird when you thought he’d have more of a better tolerance than you did. 

His complaining stops eventually and he no longer makes a snort of indignation at extra cliche scenes and you wonder if he had fallen asleep... And fall asleep he had. 

You glance over and have to suck in a breath when you catch the way his head happens to fall off his palm and onto the back of the couch cushions. His dark lashes have fallen over his pale cheeks, his pink lips left ajar as his chest rises and falls steadily. 

This was most definitely a bad idea to invite him over. You have to will yourself to ignore the very sexy man sleeping on the other side of couch. Pressing your cheek to your fist, you can’t help but sigh as you look on at the male sleeping beside you. It just wasn’t even possible. How were you able to replicate his physical details in your dream, without even knowing the man? 

Don’t let him get to you, you think with a frown, there’s absolutely no reason you should be pining over him. 

You don’t know him. You certainly weren’t even single, nor was he.

Carefully, you pull a fleece blanket over his body, one that you keep folded neatly on one of the armrests for nights like these. Settling back into your space, you yawn, glancing at him before you drag your eyes back to the front to watch the movie. As it drags on, you find your eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

Yoongi wakes up suddenly when the credits start rolling, end song blaring in an upbeat tune. His eyes groggily roam the dimly lit living room, squinting at the bright light coming from the television screen. He makes out the shapes of the empty dishes stacked on the coffee table, along with the bottles of beer the both of you had finished. Shifting slightly, he notices the light blanket that’s been settled over his body. You must’ve draped it over him when he’d fallen asleep during the movie.

Speaking of you, he turns his head slightly to gaze over your slumbering form curled against the other side of the couch. You hug a pillow close to your middle, breathing steadily as he shifts to get a better look at you. 

Reaching out to wake you, he grimaces and stops himself. He only allows himself to watch as you shift in your sleep, body unconsciously moving into a more comfortable position. Staring down at his hand apprehensively. 

Clicking his tongue, he pulls the blanket over your form before making work at putting away the dishes as carefully and quietly as he could into the sink and arrange the bottles in the bin designated for recycling. 

He’s stayed far longer than he thought he would. Carefully closing the front door behind him, Yoongi turns to leave when he’s startled by Namjoon standing there with his keys in hand. The latter stares back in disbelief and confusion, blinking multiple times as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi decided enough was enough with the awkward gawking, “What a surprise running into you Joon-ah.”

“It would seem so, since this is my apartment, if I’m not mistaken, hyung,” the younger answers back, restoring his composure, “Might I ask… why were you in my apartment?”

“No harm in asking why you’re out late, neglecting your girlfriend then?” Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly, catching the way his co-worker winces at that, “Don’t even bother giving me that client bullcrap either. She’s not dumb, it may fool her for now, but it doesn’t faze me.”

“I don’t see why you need to concern yourself with someone else’s girlfriend, speaking of which, where’s yours?”

“Out of town with an actual reason than your half-assed excuse,” the elder grunts, “(Y/n) was about to drown herself in beer and terrible romance movies, would you like to explain?”

Namjoon flinches at the word drown, and Yoongi notices, only ever knowing the gist of what had happened a few months ago. 

“It has nothing to do with you.”

It was better to leave it at that. The elder shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets before stepping aside to leave.

“Make sure you move her from the couch, she might get a cold,” He calls back just as the click of the door signals that it’s been closed behind the other male. Suddenly, he feels empty. 

No no no. He shook his head. That had nothing to do with him. He faltered mid-step. The more he thought about it, he thought about how sad and lonely you had appeared at the store. The more he thought about it, he felt angry for you, and the way Namjoon was treating you. He hadn’t known you for long, but you were a nice girl, a handy assistant so far, a good cook from what he could tell, and damn well gorgeous. 

Okay.

That last one was a bit… 

That was besides the point. You didn’t deserve to be stood up by Namjoon, but it wasn’t his place to meddle with your problems or with you in the first place. The two of you were strictly professional.

With a heavy sigh, he leaves reluctantly. 

Come morning, you have to hear all about the night before from a fuming Namjoon. You wake up before him like usual, dressed for work and doing away in the kitchen. You’d like to delude yourself into thinking that Yoongi was a real gentleman and carried you to your bedroom when you had most definitely fallen asleep watching teenage romance flicks with him. The way your boyfriend’s eyebrows knit together and the imminent scowl on his handsome face when he came out of the bedroom had begged to differ.

“What the fuck was that last night?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Good morning to you too.” 

He’s not entirely taking it, his expression not letting up. “Was what Joon?” You finally sigh as you finish setting the table, but he doesn’t look like he’s sitting down to eat any time soon.

“Don’t act dumb (Y/n), why was Yoongi leaving here last night?”

And there it was. What was the coincidence that Namjoon had caught Yoongi leaving your apartment last night? 

“Well maybe because we’re friends and coworkers who decided to have dinner and drinks?” You shrugged, opting to make yourself a cup of coffee because, surely, this conversation was going to suck the life out of you for the day. You were gonna need it. “Why does me getting along with Yoongi concern you? Doesn’t seem like you bother to come home and have dinner with me anyways.”

He scoffs. The sound igniting irritation that you hoped wouldn’t show itself. 

“I’m working (Y/n), I thought you knew that.”

“And I’m merely having dinner with a friend, would you have the same reaction if I was having Hobi over for dinner and drinks?” You bite back a little too harshly. 

“You know it’s different.”

“And you should know that I have you, and Yoongi has Jinri.” A frown settles on your face, suddenly having no appetite for the breakfast you slaved over and the coffee you were in the middle of brewing.

The exhale that comes out of Namjoon is rough and full of frustration. His fingers ruffle his tousled beige locks. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s whatever I guess.”

He shakes his head, inhaling deeply and exhaling with an exaggerated rise and fall of his shoulders as he turns to head back to your shared room. He doesn’t look back and frankly, you don’t really know what to say to mend the situation. 

Ah… He’s mad. You think as you glance at your phone for any new messages from Namjoon. 

None.

You sit in the lounge, glaring down at your lunch. Or well, much of your untouched breakfast this morning after Namjoon’s confrontation. 

Was it really your fault for inviting Yoongi over? The more you thought about it, it did seem like a bad idea to invite your very attractive boss for dinner and drinks. Perhaps the absence of your boyfriend had really gotten to you and made you desperate. Maybe you should have asked Hoseok to join you after all. You and Namjoon would still have been on speaking terms and everything would be okay.

The chilled surface of a can shocks you out of your daze. Your body flinching away from the sudden coldness. Squinting up at the offending item, your eyes followed the can of iced coffee to it’s owner to see Yoongi staring down at you. The ghost of that damned smirk playing on his lips. 

“Are you sure you don’t have a dog? Someone must’ve kicked it real hard.”

#wonderwall #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagine #bts x you #bts x reader #bts fanfics

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

J.I.L.

Roomies for Too Damn Long

Summary: They can’t take her to the Avengers, so Steve has another idea.

Word Count: 1823 words

-.-.-.-.-

Washington D.C – April 5th, 2014

Jeneva didn’t realize how much she missed until she found herself in a car, driving somewhere in D.C. She had missed driving. She missed the feel of the sun on her skin and how obnoxious busybodies in the streets could actually be. Isolation for so long truly made her forget what was normal.

“Forgive moi, but ain’t the Avengers located up in New York?” It only made sense for her to stay there. There would be constant supervision for an ex-prisoner, access to their resources – it would make sense.

“We aren’t going to the Compound.”

Jeneva looks away from the window, catching Steve’s eyes in the rearview mirror. There was pain there. Worry about his decisions. She chuckled. “They don’t know.” Slumping in her seat, she crossed her arms and watched what little reactions she could get out of the man. “Y’have a weird dynamic wit’ your amis, chere.”

“Tony wouldn’t exactly encourage this sort of thing,” Sam told her, looking at her from the passenger seat.

“Why would he? He doesn’t have anyt’in’ t’gain from it.” She looked back at Steve. “So what? Hookin’ moi up wit’ an apartment?”

The two shared a look before Steve turned down a road. Up ahead, she could see an apartment complex. Most likely, where she would be staying. “Something like that.”

---

“And this is your room,” Sam told her, opening the door. Jeneva stepped inside. The room was a basic guest room. Nothing too extravagant which she preferred anyway. And there was even a desk with a laptop. Setting the file next to it, she looked back to the doorway.

There, Sam and Steve crowded looking almost like proud parents. Almost. It was mostly Sam.

“Uh…merci,” she said, chuckling at that proud grin on his face. “So this is y’all’s…brilliant arrangement?”

“It’s temporary. Once you find Bucky, you can do whatever you want,” Steve told her, pushing himself off the doorway. She watched him walk away before looking at Sam.

“Charmin’.”

“Cut him some slack. Bucky’s that one guy who means everything to him,” Sam explained, leaning against the doorway. “And our last time with the guy, he wasn’t in his right frame of mind.”

“Yeah, no shit.” She hesitated, glancing at the bed before looking at him. “Are y’comfortable wit’ this? I know the whole t’ing is Steve’s idea, but I’m not goin’ t’impose just t’fulfill our deal.”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t mind. Besides, having a roommate for a couple weeks could be fun.”

---

July 4th, 2014

Jeneva blamed Sam for her difficulty in finding Barnes. She had no doubt in her mind that he managed to jinx her. He just had to say two weeks. Well, two turned into three. Then a month. And so on because that’s how time works.

“Baise-moi,” she snapped, kicking the blankets and paperwork that surrounded her. The blankets fell to the floor as the papers flew into the air, quickly finding a home on the carpet. She rest her elbows on her crossed legs, massaging her temples. She just wanted to find him. The sooner that happened, the sooner she could go on with her life.

But it was hard to focus with so much static in the air. The lights flickered, shutting off and finally giving her a sense of peace.

“Jeneva!”

It was nice while it lasted.

She looked up as the door swung open. “Hiya, Sammy.”

“We talked about you shutting off the electricity, Jen.” The first time she’d done it, her glowing, cat-like eyes had scared the crap out of him, but he quickly got used to it. The problem was her eyes were the only thing about this situation that he got used to.

Jeneva grimaced. A couple seconds passed and the lights came back on, earning a sigh of relief. He was about to turn to go, knowing she preferred her space, but then he noticed her…well, everything. The mess on the floor, how she was hunched in a disaster of a bed, and the fact that her body language screamed, “Fuck the world.”

“Come on.”

She looked up as he gestured to the living room. “What?”

“I ordered pizza and I’m about to watch that John Wick movie.” Gesturing to her, he explained, “You look like you could use some unnecessary violence.”

“That’s how you’re celebratin’ July fourt’? Really?”

Sam shrugged. “I’m interesting like that.”

Jeneva sighed. “Look, Sam, y’don’t have t’be nice t’moi – “

“I know. But sometimes walking away from a thing actually helps you solve it faster. So get off your ass and watch a movie with me.”

Jeneva groaned but couldn’t bring herself to argue. Crawling out of the bed, she let him shove her out of the room like a mother hen. “There’s alcohol with the movie, right?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

-.-.-.-

March 10th, 2015

“Why is it taking so long?”

Jeneva winced as she heard Steve’s voice from the living room. She didn’t blame him for being frustrated. It had been a long time since they saved her from the Raft and she had nothing to show for her work. She’d gone out a couple times – to New York in case Bucky wanted to relive his childhood. To the middle of nowhere USA in case he wanted off the grid. The thing was, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he kept moving, never staying in one place for long. It made sense at least.

“Steve, you’re having her find a guy nicknamed ‘the ghost’. Cut her some slack.”

There was silence. A small huff. “I know. I do – I understand that. I just…”

“I know. But you haven’t been here. That girl is pouring over every little bit of information she can get her hands on. When she isn’t asleep, she’s looking for him. Her time is invested in this and she wasn’t bullshitting you when she said she’d find him. Barnes is just really good at hiding.”

She looked up at the map on her wall. Little pins of various colors showed where she could possibly find him. Based off his history with HYDRA, she had very little reason to believe he was still in the United States. Her gaze shifted to Europe. It would make sense. He had spent most of his time there.

Maybe it was time to shift her tactics.

-.-.-.-.-

April 14th, 2016

“You have some of the worst ideas.”

Jeneva rolled her eyes as she took a sip of the coffee in hand. Sure, maybe taking a couple visits to Europe was a little extreme. Especially when they had nothing to go off as to where Bucky could be, but she was running out of options. She didn’t want to be sent back to the Raft and, while Sam promised Steve would never do that, she had been at the hands of people making promises.

And she’d been at the hands of those people when they were angry.

“I t’ink y’the only person that would call Italy a bad idea, chere,” she teased as she looked down the streets. Her energy had taken a dip, so he had recommended stopping for caffeine. She could already feel herself buzzing from it, but of course the enjoyment was short lived when she heard Sam complain again.

“You realize that the only reason we were able to do this is because you have a plane, right?”

“’Ey, y’the one that helped moi get it and my ot’er shit out o’ storage.”

“Believe me, I might be regretting that.”

She smirked. “Liar.”

Sam didn’t say anything, sticking close to her as they abandoned their empty cups and went back to work. “I don’t know how you came up with this and thought it was a good idea, Sparky.”

“Better than stayin’ cooped up in that apartment and gettin’ no good or bad results. Just a lot of empty answers.”

“But what made you think Italy?”

“One o’the assignments he was given,” she muttered absentmindedly, recalling the politician the Winter Soldier had been assigned to kill.

Silence fell for a while. Both of them knew that this was a lost cause. Three days of scouring small towns, places that would make sense for him to be hiding.

And still they found nothing.

“Jen,” Sam finally spoke again.

She huffed, jumping slightly when she felt his hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”

“We’re going to find him,” Sam assured her, having absolute faith in her abilities. Jeneva was too stubborn for him to think she’d fail. “But I think it’s safe to say that we can cross Italy off the list.”

Glancing at him, she ran a hand through her tangled mess of hair. He watched the slight tick of her jaw and how that gold in her eyes flickered. Her frustration was a little obvious. “Let’s just get out o’ here.”

Sam looped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently. “You got it.”

“And Sam,” she asked, looking up at him. “’Appy birt’day.”

He snorted. “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

June 22, 2016

Jeneva’s eyes were glued to her phone, brow furrowed. It didn’t make sense. She’d been studying this man’s file, hunting him down for two years. There was no way he bombed the Vienna International Centre. Right? She couldn’t have been that oblivious to him.

But then her screen lit up, showing Sam’s face covered in birthday cake.

She swiped to answer, holding the phone to her ear and looking around. Maybe the press was wrong. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time. “Sam?”

“Hey, you saw?”

Jeneva huffed. “Kinda hard t’miss.”

“Please, tell me you aren’t out looking for him.”

Jeneva shrugged. “Wasn’t gonna waste a trip t’Romania.” She smiled at a little girl who was admiring the wild curls in Jeneva’s hair, giving her a small wave before the kid ran off to catch up with her mom.

“Jen!”

“It’s not hurtin’ anyone,” she muttered.

“He bombed the UN meeting.”

“I don’t t’ink so.” She walked backwards, rolling her eyes as he kept going on and on about her risking her life. “Sammy, chill. ‘M a mutant. What could happen?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she had accidentally bumped into someone. As she spun around, she heard a soft ‘sorry’. She looked up, catching a glimpse of the man hiding underneath the baseball cap. Before she even had the opportunity to apologize, to say that it truly was her fault, he was already moving. And she was amazed.

She blinked as he crossed the street, looking both ways. There was no way it happened that easily.

“Hey, Sparky, you there?”

Jeneva swallowed, finally realizing that Sam was still talking to her. “Y’wouldn’t believe what just happened,” she murmured, watching as the man she had been searching for for two years purchased a newspaper. Something so simple.

“What?”

“I found him.”

#steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes #jeneva lebeau #mutant oc #marvel oc #marvel fic #mcu #oc appreciation #oc's are people too #oc appreciation day 2020

[tchalla-rogers]

Charlie’s Angels

Part 6. HYDRA Does it Again

SERIES MASTERLIST | taglist: @pinkisokay @halfpasttheworst @justendlesssummerfeels

previous parts: part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5.

next parts: part 7. part 8.

author’s note: literally the whole beginning of this part didn’t even paste so i would recommend re-reading as it’s the girls’ meeting with fury

Tony was furious, raging angrily once again when he found out what happened. Steve hadn’t talked to you since he found the three of you worn out outside of the HYDRA base. Nick Fury was astonished that you guys didn’t even take the weapons. It was a lot of explaining and arguing back and forth.

“The mission was to take HYDRA’s weapons, not melt them to the ground.” The three of you sat across from Fury, whose lips were pressed together at the supposed failed mission. Salia opened her mouth to argue back but Fury held up one finger and she instantly closed it. “Cool powers, not what I wanted.”

“Okay, but no one needs those weapons. You don’t even need them, Fury.” Salia threw her hands up in the air and Fury ducked, not knowing what she could do uncontrolled. “I’m not going to melt you, Fury.”

“Trust me, I don’t want you to. It looks like you guys don’t follow simple instructions, though.” He looked at you as you quietly stared around the room, not invested in the conversation at all.

Rustling was heard next to you as Claire pulled something out of her back pocket, flinging it in the air. “We may have destroyed those disastrous weapons, but we got their plans.” Fury stretched out his hand and Claire shook her head. “You think we’re incapable, but we’re not.”

“I never said that. I think you guys bite off more than you can chew. You have been fending for yourselves for years and don’t know how to work as a team. Oh, and you don’t listen. It’s not a good mix.”

Claire closed her hand around the device in her hand. “I fought off a lot of HYDRA agents without even touching them. I almost died for your mission and then you sit there and act like the devices aren’t destroyed for good reason.”

You started to listen when Claire continuously spoke about herself during the mission, sliding further down into your seat. “Once again, it’s always about you Claire.”

Claire rolled her eyes and slammed the device holding the memory of the HYDRA weapons. “Take it, Fury. All of their plans have been deleted at the base.” Fury perked up and nodded with what Claire said.

“Let’s hope they’re all deleted. Dismissed.” Fury watched as the three of you walked out, storing the flash drive in a drawer and locking it.

Tony may have been on all of your asses once you reached the compound again, but he ignored you guys again. Steve never seemed to be at the compound and if he was, he acted like you didn’t exist. He had fine conversations with the other two girls and it aggravated you that he didn’t look your way.

It didn’t help that you weren’t even talking to the other two girls. You were exhausted from how much you all tried to build trust with the team and it all went to shit. No matter what, the three of you never really worked as a team. Maybe Salia and you made a better team without Claire. Claire was your best friend, though, along with Salia. It was hard to shit on her personality but it didn’t work well in a team.

The next day after Fury’s meeting, you found yourself sitting in the living area. The sound of the T.V. was in the back of your mind. Footsteps weren’t even heard as you lounged out on the couch, lost in thought. The only thing that brought you out of the daze was the seat sinking in next to yours.

Steve sat next to you, his hands clasped together and biting on his bottom lip. He stared at the T.V. as you sat up in your seat. The awkward silence was a little too much and you wondered why he even came into the room to sit there. You sighed and stood up, walking to your bedroom but a voice stopped you in your tracks. “Y/N…” You turned around and saw Steve’s eyes meeting yours. He watched as you stood there with nothing to say, waiting for him to speak the first words. “We...need to talk.”

“Wow, glad you can finally talk to me, Steve.” You crossed your arms over your chest, still standing in the middle of the living area. “It isn’t like you haven’t said a word to me.”

“I’m...I’m sorry, Y/N, but you don’t understand how aggravated I was after I got a call from Fury and realizing the three of you weren’t here.”

You raised one eyebrow as Steve got up from the couch and walked over to you. “Fury called you? Not Tony?” Steve shook his head and stared at you for a moment more as you pondered this new information.

“He said something about needing backup at that HYDRA base. Didn’t mention anything about the three of you.”

“Interesting,” you mumbled, beginning to bite on your nails out of nervousness. “Why...why were you…?”

Steve sighed and pursed his lips together. “You guys have only been on one mission and you shouldn’t have gone on another one without help. I fought to have you stay on the team because I love working beside you. You’re a hard-worker, a great team member and...I...knowing I wasn’t at your side during that time didn’t help. I didn’t want you to get hurt again like last time.”

You eyed him, watching him speak and look stressed while explaining to you why he didn’t speak to you. “You don’t believe that your training for months, wouldn’t let me fight without you by my side?”

“I have all of the faith in you. This is a difficult business. I believe you can fight without me but that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

“Yeah, well, I know Tony would never allow it. That’s why we spoke to Fury directly.”

“What makes you believe that you couldn’t come to me directly?” You chuckled humorlessly, remembering what the girls said before you went to Fury about the mission. Steve looked at you and watched as you laughed at his statement. He raised one eyebrow. You shook your head and pushed it aside. “I thought we had built enough trust for you to come to me for help.”

Sam walked in, smirking at the two of you really close to each other in the middle of the room. “I see you told her, Cap.”

You looked at Sam and then over at Steve, watching as he glared over at Sam. “Told me what?”

Sam shrank back into his figure, realizing nothing was said. “Nevermind. Disregard everything I just said. Cap has told you nothing.” He looked over at Steve, shrugging his shoulders. You smirked and heard footsteps retreat from the living area.

Steve rolled his eyes as you grinned at him. “What did you want to tell me?” You put one hand on your hip and he could barely get the words out.

“Uh...I-.” His voice was cut off by the sound of F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“Mr. Stark requests everyone’s presence in the briefing room.” You looked over at Steve, creasing your eyebrows together and wondered what Tony wanted. You were worried that it would be something targeting Claire, Salia and you.

When you made it to the briefing room, you only spotted Salia walk in. She looked over at you and then looked for Claire. Salia sauntered over to you and Steve and leaned in. “Where is Claire?” she whispered and continued watching for her to walk through the door.

“She’s usually not the most on-time,” you joked but you knew that something was up. Claire might not run on the best time but she was serious about her work. Even when Tony called the three of you to talk after the big news, she was on top of time. “Maybe she’s not in the building.” Fury even walked into the room, standing next to Tony who looked at everyone in the room.

“We’re heading to Sokovia,” Fury announced. The team all looked at each other knowingly and you looked over to Salia. Steve grasped your arm and you glanced at him. He held fearful eyes and seemed as he already knew the situation of this mission. “

“Fuck, this can’t be good.” Sam groaned and even Bucky looked frozen, locked in place from the news.

Salia spoke up when no one was telling the information on this mission. “Sorry...can someone fill Y/N and me in, because, yeah, we’re lost.”

“Bad news, Claire has been taken by HYDRA.” Fury leaned over the table, inching forward for the two of you to hear. Your eyes opened wide and you still felt Steve holding onto you tightly. When would this mess with HYDRA ever be finished? “Good news, the Avengers, a.k.a. all of you, need to suit up. Right now.”

#Steve rogers #masterlist #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #Steve rogers imagines #Steve rogers x you #Steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky x you #tony stark #tony stark angst #tony stark imagine #tony stark imagines #tony stark x daughter!reader #Tony stark x reader #Tony stark x you #Steve rogers angst #Avengers #avengers au #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #marvel

[samaraclegane]

Do you mind a Harringrove prompt where they're together and out to the party but everyone is giving shovel talks to Billy, and it's annoying and amusing at first but then it's depressing because he doesn't think anyone cares about him enough to give Steve a shovel talk on his behalf. He ends up shocked when someone does give Steve the shovel talk.

author’s note: not going to lie I felt like a grandmother when I had to look up what shovel talks meant aha. also not too sure if you meant they were at a party or out with the party (like out with the kids/joyce/hopper etc.) but took creative liberty and opted for the latter. sorry if that’s not what you meant! hope you enjoy anyway, and thanks for teaching me a new term ;)

-for once in their lives, they’ve got a day off.

-apparently even the monsters of the depths of hell have weekends and weekdays, because today - the sunniest saturday billy thinks he’s ever seen in hawkins, and he doesn’t expect to see many more of them what with the changing seasons.

-it took approximately five seconds of the sunlight breaching his window to decide he’s not going to sleep in and waste the day. billy arose rather early, dressed himself, made some food for himself and even left some for max (hey, the sun makes him a nice person, who’d have thunk it) before hopping in his car and driving over to billy’s.

-there, he rings the doorbell, and prepares himself if steve’s parents answer the door. if it’s his mom, he can play it off pretty cool, because although neither of them know the extent of his and steve’s relationship, she knows that they’re pretty close ‘friends’. his dad, on the other hand, has next to no idea who billy is, because whenever he sees him he scurries away. once, he even opted to leave through steve’s window rather than introduce himself; it was more fun that way, anyway.

-now, though, steve’s parents don’t open the door. it’s not steve either, to his dismay, because there, when the door swings open, stands his step-sister, her expression matching his own.

-”billy?” she says, almost in sync with him as he says, “max?”

-they stare at each other blankly for a moment, both lost in confusion, but their encounter is cut short when steve appears behind her and drinks in the situation. he takes a sip of some ice-cold cola he’s holding, only perpetuating the awkwardness of the situation, then by some unspoken sixth sense they all begin moving in coordination, letting billy in and closing the door behind him, automatically welcoming him to the gathering.

-inside, there’s the rest of the kids. billy half expects joyce and hopper to be there too because the only time he spends with the kids is when the world is ending. this time, though, they’re all dressed in shorts and lairy shirts, and billy notices for the first time that eleven and max are wearing matching scrunchies.

-”what... er, what’s going on?”

-he’s never sounded stupider in his whole life, but then he’s never witnessed something like this in his entire life, either. there, in steve’s clean, white living room, are the kids, lathering themselves up with copious amounts of suncream, then donning caps and glasses, readying themselves with drinks to head outside into the sun in steve’s back garden.

-”I can explain,” steve speaks, voice oozing jest, like he’s pretending to be a cheating husband whose wife has just witnessed him lying with another woman.

-”uh huh,” billy nods, scanning the room once more before landing his frantic eyes on steve, signalling something he can’t quite encapsulate, trying to tell him how the fuck are we going to explain why i’m here.

-the kids are beyond smart. after all they’ve been through - more than once, mind - they’re borderline geniuses, so billy knows it’s only a matter of time before they figure out-

-”pretty.”

-eleven, the girl whose hair is even wilder than her actual superpowers is speaking to him. she’s looking directly at him - through him, straight into his soul it feels like - and she’s calling him pretty. they haven’t really spoken much before this - he hasn’t heard her say much to anybody, now he thinks about it - and this is what she chooses to say?

-”what?” his natural standoffish self comes out, and he can’t help but narrow his eyes at her. he doesn’t want to be that douchebag he was before steve, but it’s still some part of him that he can’t get rid of. he does admit he feels instantly guilty, though.

-eleven looks at him again, then directs her gaze to steve and then back at him, signalling for him to look at billy. “pretty. pretty?”

-steve can only laugh and scratch the back of his head, standing awkwardly with one hand on his hip as he mumbles, “yeah, yeah. pretty.”

-billy can’t control the flush that comes to his face. steve’s called him stuff like that before, sure, but not in front of anyone like he’s doing now. granted, he looks as awkward as billy feels, but he’s still said it, and now all the kids are exchanging glances, amongst themselves and between him and steve.

-they know.

-they don’t mention it, but even by the time they’re all outside and taking their seats on the loungers and on the grass, their eyes still aren’t off the pair of them. billy’s flush hasn’t gone yet, either, and he becomes further flustered when he can’t decide where to sit. 

-they’re all beginning to relax (well, not strictly true, because there’s still the occasional prickling sensation of eyes on him, but still) when steve stands up. billy watches him as he does a quick drink check around the group, not wanting to interrupt the quiet conversation going on between the boys, and heads inside with his own empty glass.

-in an instant, all eyes turn on him. the conversation stops, and the kids begin descending on him. it’s like something from a horror movie, how they look deadly serious as they watch him, then the eerie silence is broken by dustin.

-”if you hurt steve-” he begins, only to be interrupted by mike.

-”-we’ll declare war on you.” 

-billy scoffs nervously, but nobody else laughs. lucas takes his step forward, signalling it’s his time to speak to billy, and their eyes meet.

-”if you put a hand on him-” billy feels a pang of guilt, remembering how he had acted towards the boy the first time they had met. honestly, pinning a preteen to the wall and threatening him? who had he been? “we’ll come for you.”

-billy gets scared now, because what in the fuck does that mean? eleven is perhaps the least intimidating, surprisingly, because she’s just looking absently, as though she’s not really understanding what’s going on or what anybody’s saying. billy decides then and there that ignorance really is bliss.

-max clears her throat, and billy’s gaze instantly drops to her where she’s sat on the grass. she eyes the others, looking mildly irritated, and pipes up.

-”what they mean,” she clarifies, “is that we really care about steve, and we really wouldn’t appreciate it if you were to hurt him.” she looks more serious now, as she finishes, “don’t mess around with him, billy.”

-that’s when billy’s up and out of his chair because fuck that shit. he’s always known he was the latecomer to the gang, but jesus christ. if they don’t like him, they can just say it. there’s no need for the dramatics and pretending his relationship with steve is the causation for their disdain.

-he barely murmurs, “i’m going to get a drink,” before he’s heading inside and he’s forgetting his glass, figuring the kids know he wasn’t really telling the truth anyways. he stops in steve’s kitchen as he nearly bumps into his boyfriend, who chuckles and says something billy can’t quite hear over the thumping in his ears. he thinks he can feel the blood travelling around his body at its high speed.

-he rests himself on the kitchen sink, leaning forward and trying to zone back into himself. he tries to reason away why the kids were so put off by him, but always comes back to the fact that they must just hate him. he gets why, of course, considering he’s threatened to kill one of them in front of the others, and since then he’s tried to retract himself from the main action through embarrassment of the aforementioned action.

-even still, as he finally begins to return to himself, he can’t help but wonder whether they’d do the same for him. after all, relationships take (at least) two parties, and both are as capable of hurting the other as one another. not that he thinks he would, but what if steve were to hurt him? what then?

-he’s about to head back out, feign disinterest as he grabs his glass and excused himself again to fill the glass he was meant to the first time around, when he’s stopped in his tracks. he’s barely caught sight of red locks before he’s frozen, and he’s listening in.

-”...fragile, what with everything at home,” max says, “neil’s really bad to him. if you were to do anything, i worry he’d-”

-billy stops hearing at this point, because the thumping in his head comes back. is he hearing what he thinks he’s hearing? is his little shitbrick step-sister defending him, giving steve the shovel talk?

-forget eleven, he thinks max might have the real superpowers, because she seems to have read his mind. 

-”yeah, of course,” steve says sincerely, sounding invested in the conversation, “you’ve gotta know though, max, i really do care about him. i know it’s easy to say, but it’s true. in fact, i think i even-”

-billy withdraws from the conversation, not wanting to hear steve’s next words because he thinks he knows what he’s going to say, and the first time he hears them he doesn’t want to be eavesdropping. he loudly makes an entrance, covering up steve’s words, exclaiming something along the lines of, “aaand i’m back!”

-he knows it’s dumb, but it does the trick. steve sees him, and he shuts up. he and max part to let billy get past, and billy all but skips out onto the grass like a fairy princess, because he’s feeling lighter than a feather right now. even if he did just get interrogated by a group of fourteen year olds, he just got defended by one, and that seems pretty balanced in his mind.

-steve, who had previously looked terrified that his confession had been overheard, sees his boyfriend and smiled so wide, billy can’t help but think it’s the sweetest sight he’s ever had the good fortune of seeing. better than california, better than those old pictures of his mom, better than anything.

-”self-absorbed,” steve calls him in the softest tone known to man, and follows him out onto the patio. 

-i love you too, billy thinks, but doesn’t say. that much can wait for later.

#steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #billy #billy hargrove #steve #stranger things season 2 #stranger things season 3 #stranger things #mine #prompted works #harringrove prompts #send me prompts #send me questions #send me stuff #send me anons #send me asks #chat to me

[foolscapper]

6. Betrayal

Note: This short plays with the possibility of Peter being bisexual and experimenting with his natural feelings and all that fuuuun teenaged stuff we all deal with in high school, when those hormones are running wiiiild and we're trying to figure out who we are (if we haven't already known and are playing oblivious lbh). IDK what I'm doing, I'm just spewing words and they're sort of filling prompts, only they're getting too long and I'm supER BEHIND-!(This is a whumpfest, and that includes emotional/mental whumpage. So if you're sensitive to bullying about someone's orientation and homophobia and a dash of gay panic, you might wanna skip this prompt.)

Summary: "So Peter's in a hallway. Again. With another person he likes. Again."

Short fic 6 out of 31 for Whumptober.

He's never really put a whole lot of thought to relationships and crushes and all that. Sure, he had girls he was into, and he always wanted to have a girlfriend, because that seemed to be the thing boys got entangled in, but his first real crush had been Liz. And she was wonderful. She was kind and generous and so, so smart. And he screwed that right the heck up. So the next one had to be different. It had to be safer, better, more fair to the other person, right? And that's if anyone would ever want a big, awkward nerd like Peter Parker. And, uh, there's... this kid.

In gym class.

This... boy.

It was honestly not something he lingered on at first. But the more he hung around Andrew, the more he started wondering if maybe there was something a little more to the way he couldn't help but track him up and down from afar, or the way he was temporarily taken aback by his bright grin and high-rising eyebrows, so full of confidence. Full of muscle and grace. Not a pompous jerk like Flash, but cool and composed and actually genuinely liked and humble and —

And maybe he had a thing for Andrew. Maybe? And it makes him panic a little, because he didn't want to be — like, you know. Gay... ish... Gay. And it wasn't even because he thought it was — wrong, or anything like that. It's just... He didn't want to be gay, because he was already made fun of for a plethora of other reasons; why the unholy hell would he want to add another target on him? No, nonono, he should just... push back the feelings that flutter up in his stomach. Right? Right. Don't think of Andrew and his strong-looking hands, or the way he makes all the girls wave him down, or how cool his shirts are, or how funny his jokes can be from across the gym to your stupid enhanced ears—

Stop it, stop it, stop it.

But would Spider-Man be such a coward?

'I like you.'

'I know.'

"You should totally just go for it," Liz says over a skype call (he's not sure why he tells her about his crush first and not Ned, because it's not like he thinks Ned would ever judge him for liking both sides of the coin, but like—)

Peter's hand moves over a fastly beating heart. "Noooo, no, I can't."

"Why not, Peter? It's 2017. We're working on being allowed to be ourselves, right? You should always follow your heart." She smiles at him, pressing a pink pillow against her stomach as she looks between the screen and her cellphone, where there's no doubt another conversation going on via text; how the heck she does that and still seems so invested in their talk is beyond him. She's a magician. A smiling, confident magician who looks at him like he's being ridiculous for hesitating. "That's what you usually do, right? Follow your heart? You have a good one, so it's not, like, a big deal to do that."

Oh, how one wishes it was that easy.

So Peter's in a hallway. Again. With another person he likes. Again.

"I like you. I mean, I have — a crush on you. I think? I'm sorry."

Andrew runs a hand through his perfectly combed brown hair and looks a little stunned. Peter wants to melt into the floor and just die, his ears turning agonizingly red. He sucks his hands into his sleeves and strains the cuff fabric. "I'm so — I should go."

"I knew it," Andrew says. Then clears his throat. "Hey, man, it's cool. I knew it. I mean, you were always kind of watching me in gym, so. I figured as much."

"... S-so..."

"So, uh. I totally think you're cool, too. I just need some time to think about it."

Peter deflates a little, gaze locked on Andrew's clean converse shoes; he's probably rolling in cash, because he seems to have a new pair every other week. Always fashionable. Very popular. What the heck is your problem, Peter, picking the cool kids you have no right to be with? And now — to just go for it like this, maybe... "I didn't mean to make things weird, so I'm sorry if I... did that."

"Nah, no. It's cool." Andrew smiles, shrugging a shoulder. He looks a little uncomfortable, but. "I gotta go, but... you know, I think... maybe we can hang out more. Later. See how this thing goes? If you're interested in it, too."

"I am! I mean, yes — yes, I'd love to hang out."

He's so relieved, he almost wants to cry. For the second time in a year, he's walking quickly through the halls — practically skipping, if he's honest — and when he leaps the fence later and pulls on the Spider-Man mask, there's a bounce to his step that even Karen seems to notice. He wonders if he should ask someone for advice on how to approach this kind of thing? He knows some gay people, but he's really bad at opening up about this kind of thing. Has Mr. Stark ever considered boys? Has Aunt May ever considered girls? And why has it taken him this long to even fathom these kinds of talks? There's noooo waaaay he can go to them about something this embarrassing. Not that — not that being gay is embarrassing! Or is it? Is he being all secretly 'no homo' at himself? That'd make no sense. But gay panic is totally a real thing, and —

Oh, that's a purse snatcher down below, he's gotta focus.

"Hey buddy! That's so not your color!"

Spider-Man job now, Parker romance life later.

      'SOLVE THE EQUATION: LOSER + FAGGOT ='

    Below the all caps written across his locker door, the predictable answer:

   'Peter Parker!'

     Peter stares blankly at the message for a long moment. Most of the other kids aren't really paying him any mind at the end of the day. One or two look embarrassed for him; another laughs at the joke sharpied across the metal; Andrew's friend Will nudges by him as the bell rings, echoing sentiments as his elbow sharply grazes Peter's spine: "Faggot."

Oh, Peter thinks. He probably wrote it. It's super unoriginal.

So, Andrew told his friends. He doesn't even bother hiding himself from Peter's radar... just stands with his friends close enough that when Peter turns, he locks eyes with him from down the hallway. There's no signs of that winning smile or twinkle in his eye. He just — stands with his arms folded, defensive, a flash of belated second thoughts in his expression just before he turns away and disappears to leave the campus for the day. Weekend. Good time to go hang out with friends, right? Good time to tell them all about the loser who admitted he liked you.

At his side, Ned catches him by the elbow, looking worried. He'd stayed behind longer to talk to the teacher about his essay rough draft.

"Peter? Dude, hey — " The boy quiets when his eyes meet the locker.

MJ is right behind him.

"Who did this?" she asks, expression darkening with indignation, as she motions a knife-like hand toward his locker.

He doesn't want to handle this. His stomach churns, and before he knows what his own legs are doing he's rushing blindly away through the hall, desperate to pretend nothing's wrong; the best way to do that would be to leave the school, just leave and go be Spider-Man and not think of how fucking stupid he is, how fucking naive—

"Peter!" MJ calls out.

He hears them try to follow, but he's Spider-Man. He's too fast. Fast enough to try and outrun any problem that comes along. Watch as the lockers pass, the teacher yelling 'no running!' futilely, the student he nearly knocks over in his mad sprint for freedom. He jumps down a long set of stairs, staggers, and then face-plants right into Happy Hogan's waiting chest. Panting, he's panting, and he must've really been booking it. "Kid? Hey, you didn't forget our plans tonight, did you? Tuna casserole upstate?"

He looks at Happy sharply, awed.

Tuna... Casserole...?

He hiccups a sob.

His face scrunches into something ugly and recklessly vulnerable. Does he ever learn? Being vulnerable is such a bad idea, no matter how hip it is in 2017. And yet he buries his face in Happy's shoulder as two drip-dripping set of tears squeeze by his pressing eyelids. He's gonna freaking barf; can't breathe or see or smell, but he does eventually feel the man's palms pressing on his shoulders. "What happened? Hey, are you alright?"

Then Happy's arms wrap around him with some hesitancy and hold him there, a small comfort the guy's not used to offering just anyone. Peter presses his hands into his face, stifling what feels like hoarse panic now.

"He told them — he told people, and he didn't really —"

A set of fingers hook around the back of his neck, pressing to comfort before leading him forward when his legs refuse to carry him.

"C'mon," Happy says, as grave as a six-foot hole reserved for a coffin. "Here, c'mon, get in, get in." He ushers him into the backseat of the car and Peter promptly curls up, forgoing a seat belt. He's Spider-Man. Spider-Man doesn't need a goddamn seat belt, okay? He can survive falls off ten story buildings, no sweat. This is nothing. And he shouldn't even be freaking out like this. How is a rude message scribbled on his locker worse than being dropped out of the sky on a fiery plane?

... He feels bad, leaving Ned and MJ behind; his phone keeps buzzing in his pocket, but he's scared to explain. He shouldn't be, because they love him, and they're his friends.

But he is.

"Listen, Peter," Happy says after a long and concerned pause. "We're gonna stop by the diner on 11th and order some burgers and fries, and you're gonna tell me everything, alright? Then I'm gonna decide if I need extreme measures. I'm not above endangering high school students, and trust me when I say nobody should want to cross paths with me on a golf cart in broad daylight."

"Happy..."

"No, angry, I'm very angry. And stressed out. I don't get paid enough for being worried about emotional wrecks in superhero suits as often as I am." He looks at Peter and his puffy red eyes in the rear-view mirror, expression lacking any of the usual annoyed punch; he really does just look worried. "You know I'm in charge of you, right? So your problems are my problems."

"You don't have to help with these kinds of things," Peter says lamely.

Stopped at a red, Happy twists around in his seat to point at Peter.

"I want to, kid. There's a difference." A pause. He motions at Peter with a hand. "Crawl up here, spider-boy. Up front. C'mon, tell me everything. The diner thing still stands."

And boy, it'd be easy to leap out of a window and find somewhere to sling away into isolation. Easy, but not... what Peter wants, actually. He shrinks in his seat.

(Now, maybe he should text MJ and Ned back before they storm the Avengers headquarters.)

First things first:

"... Don't tell Mr. Stark?"

Peter's not sure why he doesn't want him to know. At least right now. Maybe because he blows stuff out of proportion? And this isn't even a big deal; he's making it a big deal. It's not the first time he's been taunted for being him. And yet Happy's words have eased back a harrowing panic in his lungs, and when the driver promises he won't say anything without Peter's approval, he knows this is someone who'd never betray him. He crawls into the front seat and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Happy sighs, "Okay, bud... Start from the top. And it'll be alright. Just breathe through it... I've been really working on my meditation expertise, if you need tips. Gotta manage my blood pressure somehow, right?"

Peter actually smiles at that. And even if Happy doesn't smile, too, he knows he's right where the guy wants him. They talk all the way upstate, through a diner, and over a bridge, and up many a-street, as Peter's blotchy face clears up.

When he hears all kinds of stories about the boys Happy had fallen for miserably in high school, he feels — less alone.

That's all he really wants, right now.

#mcu #marvel #peter parker #happy hogan #spider-man #ned leeds #michelle jones #bisexual peter parker #whumptober #homophobia cw #slurs cw #mymcufanfic

[ebhenah]

Time travel au blurb that won’t ever make it into the actual fic:

She stared at the box, her face a mask of confusion. She looked so much like Keith in that moment that Shiro had to laugh, which earned him a glare that did roughly nothing to dissipate the resemblance. Her weight shifted to the other leg and she bent her knee, poking the box with her toe. “Explain, please.”

“There’s a Meet and Greet,” he said, fighting the urge to giggle, and failing. She flipped him off and he managed to rein himself in. Taking a breath, he continued, “you are expected to make an appearance. I’ve been told that it is vital to you getting Diplomatic Status.”

“But,” Lia said, nudging the box with her toe again. The steel toed boots were surprisingly stylish, but still heavy and bulky and didn’t exactly make it seem any less likely that she believed the box to be filled with venomous snakes rather than clothing. “I don’t WANT Diplomatic Status. I suck at diplomacy- why won’t you people believe me about that?”

“Oh, I believe you. Allura believes you. We all BELIEVE you, but it’s still your best bet. You DO still want security clearance, right?”

She sighed, “yeah.”

“Then Diplomatic Status is the fastest way to get that. You’ll be representing the Alteans on the Lilliput, so Allura is invested.”

“I’m going to look like an idiot,” she huffed, “I don’t DO fancy.”

“Not buying it, sorry. I’ve seen too many home movies to believe that.”

“I really hate that Lance figured out that his voice match unlocked allllll the home movies and photos.” Uncrossing her arms, she shrugged and opened the box, “ohhh no! Nope! Not putting this on my body.”

“Lia, it’s not that bad.”

“Yes it is.”

“It’s a perfectly lovely dress. Adam helped pick it out.”

“Traitor,” she hissed, “he’s dead to me.”

“For the love of- you two have to STOP with the whole ‘dead to me’ joke. It’s really not funny. We are still at war...”

“Which is why it is funny,” she insisted, ”it’s fucking hilarious... and I do NOT wear dresses.” She rummaged through the box, hoping that the dress was a gag. A misdirect. She did not find a tailored suit, or any kind of pants at all, for that matter. She did, however, find a pair of heels that looked like torture devices- all sparkly straps and thin, tiny spike heels. “Stilettos? I don’t wear heels- especially not open-toed, rhinestone encrusted strappy heels. This is a mess!”

“It’s one night...”

“No. I’m NOT putting this on. I don’t know why Allura thought I would- I didn’t even wear a dress when I got MARRIED. I haven’t worn a dress in over a decade, Shiro- and even then it was for a pretend tea party with Esme.”

“I’m not sure there’s time-”

“I just won’t go.”

“Again, this is the fastest way to get what you want. It’s one night. One party.”

“I can’t fight in this,” she said levelly, holding the dress to her frame to illustrate her point. It WAS a lovely dress- creamy white satin overlaid with lace in a purple so dark it would look black against anything but that white. It was simple, a column gown with cap sleeves, square neck-line, and a long slit up one side of the skirt. It would look amazing on her. Adam and Allura were so thrilled about finding something so flattering that wasn’t fussy or hyper-feminine. “Especially not on my tiptoes. Shoes are meant to PROTECT the foot, not... whatever the hell those things do!”

“Those ‘things’ make your legs look nice... and I doubt you will have to fight- it’s a party.”

“You know what makes my legs look nice? Wrapping them around the head of a beautiful woman. That makes them look fucking AMAZING!”

Shiro groaned, “I really didn’t need that image, Lia.”

“Yeah, well I really didn’t need,” she toed the box again, “ANY of this!”

“It’s a party, Lia,” he tried again, “you like parties- I know this for a fact. Sure, it is fancy, but it is still just a party. You know, a very high security party.”

“Look at my face and guess how much that reassures me. Do you have any idea how many fights I’ve gotten into at parties?”

“It’s not that kind of party, Lia.”

“Yes, it really is, Shiro. You don’t know my life!” Dropping the dress back into the box, she made a gesture that ringed her face, “BAD at the whole diplomacy thing, remember?”

“Well,” he prompted, “do you have any BETTER options at hand?”

“I... actually, I just might!”

“Oh, this should be good,” he muttered, following her out of the room and down the hall to... actually, he had no idea what that particular room was. He didn’t spend as much time in Lia’s family’s quarters as the others did.

“Ryung’s room,” she explained, gesturing to the barren space. He looked around as she disappeared into the closet. There were clear outlines on the walls that indicated that they’d been plastered in posters at one point, and several empty instrument and music stands. A bin of wires and circuit boards sat near a small desk that was covered in marker doodles and notes.

“Awww YEAH! It’s still here!” There was some rustling, the sound of a zipper, and a couple of clunks that he guessed were her boots. “I fucking LOVE Altean clothes! Made to accommodate shapeshifters soooo... Alfie’s old shit fits me!”

She stepped out of the closet and did a little pirouette, “tada! Do you know what this is?”

“Uh... it looks KIND OF like something Coran would wear? Other than the uh... shirt... thing.”

“The shirt thing is a corset, Shiro,” she tsked, picking some kind of lint off of her cuff. She was wearing tight black leggings that had a gold strip up the outside of the legs. The boots she pulled on over them were deep purple edged in gold and extended up over her knees, the highest point of the gentle slope sitting at about mid-thigh. The stylized cut of the Altean coat fell longer in the back than he’d seen, reminding him a little of the old ‘tails’ style of tuxedo coats. The high, stylized collar was that same deep purple edged in gold, and the rest of the coat was black with gold highlights. He could see the lining when she moved, and the pale lavender was almost the exact shade as her skin and matched the gloves she was wearing.

“You look...ummm...”

“Kind of like a sexy lesbian pirate? Why, yes... I very much DO,” she laughed, “but actually, this is official garb for the royal house of Altea. Or, at least, it is back in my timeline. There’s this whole thing where the Crown Heir creates a custom palette that represents their station and is made official by Royal decree... yadda, yadda, yadda... BUT the important thing is that HERE, there is no Alfie and no Alfie means no Crown Prince and THAT means that this glorious creation is just a very, very well made formal Altean suit. Completely appropriate for me to wear to a gala.”

“Uh-huh, so you just need a shirt, then,” he sighed. Adam would be livid that she rejected the ‘perfect gown’ they’d picked out for her, but at least Lia would BE THERE. So, fine. Whatever. Sexy pirate Altean whatever. He wasn’t fighting with her anymore. She could be so exhausting... it was as if she could summon the most frustrating traits of all four of the people that contributed to her genesis- and annoyingly ‘stubborn and willful’ were traits they ALL had a tad too much of.

“Ummm... I HAVE a shirt,” she pointed at the corset.

“That’s underwear... isn’t it?” 

“Ehhh yes and no. It’s either. But, hey, it’s black satin. It looks nice and formal. This is what I’m wearing.”

“Sure. Okay. Just... send a pic to Adam and Allura so you don’t blindside them.”

“Will do. Ooooh! You think I can wear the ceremonial SWORD?? I saw it in the back of the closet...”

He stared at her, her whole face absolutely alight at the possibility. He didn’t even know why he was surprised. Keith’s kid. She was Keith’s kid. Of COURSE she had a thing for swords. “It’s a PARTY,” he repeated, not really sure why she couldn’t grasp this concept.

“Yeah,” she sighed, her face melting into a pout, “a sword is way too obvious. Blaster it is. I can hide that easy in this coat.”

“Lia!”

“What?”

“A PARTY!”

“Yeah?”

“No weapons. Leave the weapons to the security detail.”

“But-”

“No BUT! No. No weapons. Got it?”

“I’m pretty sure I should be armed,” she countered. “My history suggests that I sho-”

“Lia! This is not your original timeline! Noooo weapons. Leave it to your security detail.”

“Wait... MY security detail? I have a specific security detail?”

“Yep,” he turned on his heel and exited the room. He wasn’t supposed to let that detail slip.

She jogged after him, “Shibo? Shiiiiiiiiibo? Do you know who my security detail is?”

“Hmmm? Oh, wow- look at the time. I’m sure you have... uh... hair? and umm make-up to do? You’re Lance’s kid so... like some kind of face mask maybe? And uhh... I still need to get ready.”

“Shiro...” She stopped, eyeing him suspiciously. “No. Oh God, please NO! It can’t be... he’s like one of the shining stars of the whole...” her shoulders sank, “seriously?? GRIFFIN! I hate that guy!”

“Yeah- I know. It wasn’t my decision. Blame Iverson.” He waved as he ducked out the door, “see you in a couple of hours!”

She growled to herself, kicking the wall. This was going to be the shittiest fucking party ever... “I’m getting that goddamn sword,” she muttered to herself. “Griffin will HATE that.”

#time travel AU #Lia McClain #Kimeron #Voltron fanfic #Shiro #my writing #mywriting #character study #she is kinda difficult #he loves her though #she calls him Shibo it is a thing for them

[babybluepeaches]

Permission pt. 2 {a killmonger fic}

pt. 1   /   pt. 3

AN: Since your first wild adrenaline-filled meeting, you and Erik have been inseparable during your nightly dope deals. But tonight, you might discover a  secret side of himself he’s been hiding when your life is threatened in a deal gone awry. Stay tuned for the sex in part 3 ❤︎

....

1:27am

1 new message

Sender: Y/N

Message: “Bout to be outside.”

Erik picks up his phone and shoots back a text. Getting out of bed, as per his new nightly routine, he changes out of his pajamas into his outside clothes. After a bit of deliberation he settles on a black T-shirt and camo pants.

He had been seeing Y/N for a month now, just going with her on her nightly drop offs. He wasn’t one to keep up attached relationships, but there was something about Y/N that made him almost forget about everything. Besides the sex and free “gas”, he liked that she didn’t ask him any heavy questions, being a dealer she wasn’t too into trading personal information. When they hooked up they just drove, talked, and smoked. It seemed effortless.

Erik had to admit to himself, he liked her energy. She was cool, confident, and she didn’t have any expectations of him. This worked perfectly for Erik, who wanted nothing more but to escape the tidal wave of feelings he had been keeping at bay about his so-called family and his legacy.

Grabbing his essentials, he heads out his apartment and walks towards a black car.

….

1:36am

1 new message

Sender: Erik

Message: “Bet”

You glance at your phone before putting your car into park in front of Erik’s place.

You didn’t want to admit how much Erik Stevens had influenced you over the past couple of weeks, but it was unmistakable. The long car rides, the impromptu hook ups, you had even slept over his place a couple of times. Not to mention he influenced you into getting that single gold cap grill you always wanted. It shined in your mouth’s top row of teeth, a little dollar sign flashing when you smiled.

Hell, it helped to have his intimidating body in your passenger seat too. Your thirsty customers used to ask to sit in the back of your car. “Just to sample what you got,” they would say. Now when they lean in to check you out, they see Erik too. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve had to stop yourself from laughing at their disappointment. Sometimes Erik grabs your thigh when you’re bagging for them, or talks to you casually. With all the creepy niggas at bay, you actually started to enjoy the night. So it’s safe to say Erik became your part-time partner in crime.

….

While you were adding songs to your tidal queue, Erik opens your door and climbs in the car.

“‘Sup E,” you say, now shifting your attention to program your first address into the GPS. Before you had even glanced over, Erik’s smell and presence wafts into the car. He always smelled like sandalwood and honey. It was a small comfort, not that you would admit it.

“Wassup sis,” he said with a smile, making fun of what your underlings call you.

“You are not allowed to call me that,” you say, returning his grin and pulling off the lot.

“Damn, okay Y/N,” he says, followed by, “Where we going?”

“Melrose, Highland, some random ass place out East.”

“Dope,” Erik says, picking up your phone to add his preferred songs to your tidal queue.

You’re cruising, rapping along to X by 21 Savage. You loved to drive and Erik didn’t mind when you zoned out. Your vibe was interrupted when Erik abruptly says, “Oh my god pull in here.”

“Pull in where?” you yell over the music.

“Girl.The In-N-Out. What you think?”

You laugh and hang a left to the In-N-Out drive thru. This boy was something else.

When you drive up to order, Erik climbs in the back seat and you pull up so he can reach the mic. Erik’s upper body hangs out the window and he strokes his beard.

Licking his lips he says, “Yeah hey Cindy. Imma get a double double with 4 slices of cheese. A chocolate shake, a root beer, and a coke. Thanks.”

You hear Cindy make a remark about his 3 drinks and Erik laughs in response.

“Nah the root beer’s for my girl,” he says smiling. As he thanks Cindy and gets back in the passenger seat, you try to wipe the smile off your own face.

When Erik dips his body back in the car, you drive around to pick up the food. You pull up, Erik pays, and the In-N-Out worker hands you a small bag with 3 drinks.

Sticking your straw in your mouth you pull out of the parking lot. After a moment you propose casually, “So I’m your girl now?“

“You tryna be my girl now?” Erik returns, mimicking your casual tone.

“Only if it comes with refills,” you say, shaking your drink. Erik laughs and writes you off.

You drive around the city making your runs while Erik destroys his In-N-Out. Striking off name after name on your list, you land on the last one. Small amount of tree, they request to meet up on the East side. An easy quick one to end the night.

….

You pull up to the street you’re supposed to meet the mystery client and park, semi incognito of course. This place was no where you’ve been before.

In fact, no one was around. No old woman hobbling home from church, no old men sitting on any porches. You lean onto your stirring wheel and hold it to your chest while you peer out the windshield.

“This… Is hella sus,” you say to Erik, who’s been absorbed in a text message.

“Huh?” Erik turns off his phone screen, “You ain’t been here?”

“Nah,” after another second of scoping the neighborhood, you start digging in your backseat.

When you sit up you toss Erik one of your emergency guns.

“Stay alert,” you say, reaching for your own gun. Before you can touch it, Erik’s head snaps up and peers out your window. He squints.

“Yo is that… Lil Pump?”

Your windows are tinted but you cant mistake that gangly white frame coming towards your car.

The figure approaching your car wore a black hoodie, black baggie pants and a black shirt. All of which would be very discreet, if he wasnt also sporting greasy multicolored dreadlocks and a lollipop face tatt.

“Fuck, it’s Rare,” you groan. What was his raggedy ass doing here?

Rare showed up on the scene a few months ago as a new dealer a couple hoods over. You had always laughed at him, you couldn’t help but find his white boy thug front amusing. Once, he actually approached you and tried to get you to work some “big deals” with him. You blew his offer off with a laugh, and ever since he’s always had something cocky to say to you.

“Who?” Erik says.

“He’s a dealer. Not too fond of me,” you roll your eyes at the thought.

Rare approaches the car with a smile, signaling for you to roll your window down. You shake your head no, but he pulls up his hoodie to reveal an AR-15 rifle strapped to his torso, something strong enough to blast through the windows if you wouldn’t comply.

“Talk about overcompensation,” you mutter as you roll down the window.

“What is this? A deal?” you spit at him.

He smiles and when he gets close enough he pulls a second gun and pressing it to your temple. He coos, “Mmm, how about a set up?” smiling to reveal a whole mouth full of rainbow grillz.

You feel Erik’s body stiffen and his energy set on fire, you shoot him a quick look you hope communicates ’don’t do anything stupid.’

“I see you brought some muscle,” he says eyeing Erik, “So did I.”

Rare gestures to his cronies, which have now fanned out around the car. They’re all armed, all have ski masks covering their faces.

“Let’s go inside and make some arrangements shall we?” Rare says, as he reaches inside your car to open your door. He pulls you out and zip ties your arms around your back. Erik is getting the same treatment by the masked goons.

For a minute you’re both facing each other, and you cant help but notice Erik’s demeanor has changed completely. While he lets himself be restrained he’s as attentive as a soldier, nothing but his scowl and his lazor focus on you denotes any emotion. You see a inferno in his eyes though, even with his calm expression Erik seems dangerous.

Before you can give Erik any nonverbal reassurance, Rare is pulling you up the steps of the house by your locked arms. When filed inside one of Rare’s men pipes up.

“Uh, what should we do with him?” referring to Erik, who seems even more pissed at the sight of you being manhandled.

“Sit him down, see if he knows anything useful,” you and Rare watch Erik be tied to a chair, “if he causes any trouble, kill him,” Rare smirks and pulls you toward one of the back rooms.

Kill?

You look at Erik one last time before the door shuts. Safe to say, your world starts shaking internally.

Shit I shouldnt have dragged him into this. He has my gun though he has my gun it’s fine we’re gonna get out of this, we’re-

Your thoughts are interrupted by Rare slamming you down in your own chair.

“Oh J,” he says, shooting you your fake name while he sits across from you. “You know why they call me Rare, right?” he grins, showing off his grimey technicolored smile.

“Nah, actually I don’t,” you say. Omitting the ‘I heard that’s what they call your dick game, medium rare’ you’d love to drop on him.

“Its because ain’t nobody can do it like me,” he says, placing his elbows on his legs to lean close to you.

“So why did you lure me here?” you tilt your head and squint at him, “If you’re so rare you wouldn’t need me.”

“I don’t need you, sweetheart. I need to know where you keep your money,” he smiles and lifts your chin with his gun.

“Seriously?” you laugh, “You out already?”

“I want to make a few investments, and I got to thinking that Imma need more.”

Before you could respond, three rapid gunshots are heard from the front of the house.

“Shit.” Erik.

All rationality goes out the window, you needed to know Erik was okay. Now.

Pushing yourself away from Rare with your feet, you headbutt his gun to the ground and run out of the room with your hands still zipped behind you.

“Eri-” you begin, but stop in your tracks to see what was unfolding in front of you.

Erik hand gotten his hands free and was round house kicking a gun out of one of the guards hands. He grabs the man and uses him as a human shield to block gunshots coming from another direction.

You notice Erik appeared roughed up, his shirt had ripped at the front. His eyes were wild and his movements were unbelievably quick. You watch in awe as he threw the man he was using as the shield at the one shooting at him. While they stumbled Erik knocks their feet from under them and they tumble to the ground.

When Erik turns to face you, you feel Rare roughly yank you back by your restraints and press his gun to your head.

“It’s up to you,” he says to Erik, “Tell me all about her little operation and maybe,” he pauses with a grin, “I won’t blow her brains out.”

You could practically hear your heartbeat blasting in your eardrums.

Ba-dump

Erik’s eyes fly between you and Rare.

Ba-dump

In one swift motion, Erik grabs Rare’s hand holding the gun and pulls it away from your head, getting behind him. You move out of Rare’s arms, right in time for him to shoot wildly in Erik’s grip.

Erik releases him and raises his leg to kick him hard in the back. Rare flies into some dusty coffee tables and you’re sure he’s going to have some broken bones to attend to.

Bodies of the masked members of Rare’s crew littered the floor, and Erik was standing over them huffing. Nostrils flared and torn shirt, he was looking more wild than you’ve ever seen him.

Erik turns away from the bodies and immediately goes behind you to begin untying your arms.

Before you can thank him, you both hear police sirens in the distance and his actions freeze momentarily. Someone must have heard the gun shots and called 911.

#black panther #black panther fic #Erik killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger fic #permission

[missmeikakuna]

So, Apparently, I Find Fairies Hot Chapter 6

Rated: T

Fandom: Original Fiction

Relationship type: Male/Male

Description: You know those movies and TV shows in which an effeminate gay character has a crush on the popular jock? Strike that, reverse it.

Daniel is technically popular at school but fades into the crowd. After an injury at footy (Australian football) practice, he is forced to focus on improving his grades, starting with English. Luckily, the new kid in school knows a lot about Shakespeare and is willing to tutor him. Now if only this new guy wasn’t so attractive.

CONTENT WARNING: Homophobic slurs are used. Also, there are some sexual references but nothing too graphic.

Chapter 6: Is it gay to go to a concert with a guy?

Daniel’s head was light but his heartbeats carried the weight of a stampeding wildebeest’s footsteps. He hobbled out the door using his crutches, his newly-fixed leg still numb even though a few hours had passed since the operation.

His nostrils widened as fresh air graced them with its presence. Several people were sitting in their wheelchairs and smelling the small selection of daffodils, roses and some strange native flower that Daniel couldn’t recognise. He made sure to keep some distance from the flowers to avoid triggering hay fever symptoms but they smelled lovely from where he was. He limped slowly so as not to arouse suspicion, looking for an exit. He saw a carpark in the corner of his eye and grinned.

‘You there, where are you going?’

Shit. Daniel turned and saw a nurse. He took a deep breath to give himself time to think. ‘I want to have a smoke with my friend. He’s in the carpark.’

‘Aren’t you a little young to be smoking?’

‘I’m of age.’

‘Do you have any proof?’

What was this man’s problem? ‘I don’t know if you realise this, but I’m in the hospital. It’s not like I have my ID on me. Would you like me to limp home and get it for you?’

The nurse pursed his lips. ‘Very well. Have fun with your friend.’

Daniel resumed his journey, holding in a sigh until he was sure the nurse was gone. It took him half an hour to limp home. He had to ignore the strange looks and refuse the offers to help take him back to the hospital. He had to say he wasn’t crazy so many times he started to wonder if he really was crazy.

He patted himself on the back when he managed to get up the stairs to his room within five minutes. The numbness started to fade but he still limped as he made his way to his wardrobe. No way was he going to go to the date wearing the white t-shirt and tracksuit pants his mother brought to him before the operation. She was supposed to take him home but received a call from work.

He gulped. Wait, date? What the hell am I talking about?

He pulled out a leather jacket and put it on over a grey shirt. He chucked some jeans on and shook his leg in the hopes that he could get rid of the remaining insensateness.

He laid his crutches on his bed and walked back down the stairs, a tiny bit of numbness still there. His light head got to him and he had to clutch the rail until his dizziness subsided. However, he continued moving forward, even if it was in incremental steps.

He caught the train to the city, trying his damndest not to vomit as the train swayed back and forth harsh enough for Daniel to feel like soup being stirred in a pot. He kept looking at the time on his phone.

Suddenly the train stopped. It wasn’t at a station. It just stopped. The announcer’s whoops-I-spilled-some-beer-at-the-barbie voice made Daniel’s hand curl up into a painfully tense fist.

‘Unfortunately, the train ahead of us is delayed. Sit tight and we should be ready to continue in a few minutes.’

‘A few minutes’ passed. Then another few. ‘It looks like we’ll be here for another half hour,’ the announcer said. ‘It might be a good idea to call your workplace if you’re heading to work. Sit tight and we should be ready to resume shortly.’

Groans and cries of, ‘Bloody public transport’ poisoned the air.  Daniel finally realised how sweaty and humid the air was with everyone packed together like chickens in a cage farm. Loud, perpetually groaning chickens that swore every five minutes.

Daniel stared at his phone again and took a few deep breaths to stop himself from hyperventilating. 6:30. It was going to take at least half an hour to get to the city, not to mention the time needed to catch a tram from the station to the venue.

He opened up his text messages and went to message Eddie when… his phone died. ‘Shit,’ he whispered. There was no way he was going to pay a fine for swearing on public transport, even if everyone else was doing it.

Finally, the train resumed and got to the city like nothing had happened. Daniel started running to the tram stop but felt dizzy again, so he had to stand with his hands on his thighs for a little while. He inhaled and continued running.

He took the tram and resorted to looking at his watch. A quarter to 8. ‘Fuck.’ Another whisper.

He showed his ticket to the woman at the door of the arena. As the door opened the sound trampled him.

Or rather, sounds. The high-pitched guitar solo. The discordant and yet perfectly fitting piano. The microphone-amplified voices that alternated between rapping and growling about war. The hundreds of voices trying to mimic the rapping and growling. Daniel had heard this exact song before, and yet this live performance managed to shake him to his core. He was so invested in the music that it took him a while to remind himself to find Eddie.

He stood in the dark, trying to read the seat number on his ticket. After a minute or so his eyes got used to the dark. He made his way to his seat, but Eddie wasn’t there.

He looked around and saw a group of people cheering at the front of the balcony. One boy was dancing, his long ponytail bouncing as he banged his head and his pale skin glowing in the little bits of light coming from the stage. Daniel drank in the sight, crossing his arms to prevent himself from hugging him.

He tapped his shoulder. Eddie turned around and grinned. ‘About time!’ he yelled.

‘You have no idea what it took for me to get here!’

‘What?’

‘You have no idea-’

‘What?’

‘Nevermind!’

The song changed and Eddie squealed. He headbanged for a while before looking at Daniel, tapping the other boy’s head to get him to copy him. Daniel shook his head. Eddie pouted.

Daniel watched Eddie for most of the concert, though he sometimes looked around him to make sure no one was glaring at the boy. He expected someone to scowl at his effeminate friend, but no one did. Not many people seemed to notice him despite his large arm movements as he danced. One person joined in and danced next to him.

Half-way through the concert, the lead rapper grabbed a trombone from the brass band behind him and mock-played it while holding it near his crotch. Daniel suddenly took note of the tight leather pants and the toned abs of the shirtless lead rapper. He looked at Eddie again and wondered what got him into metal.

Daniel’s ears felt full as the chugging guitars, warlike sound effects and booming voices stuffed themselves into his mind. The occasional changes in rhythm were a little distracting, though he guessed that was the jazz influence. He remembered Eddie going on and on in the hospital about syncopated rhythms. 

When the concert ended, Eddie gulped as much water as his wallet allowed him to buy in the lobby. 

 ‘How was it?’

Daniel smiled. ‘It’s really a different experience, hearing it live.’

‘I know, right? Thank you so much for coming! That was amaz-’

‘Is that you, Ed?’ A masculine voice called out. Eddie froze.

Another voice was added. ‘Of course, it is! He’s got the same face.’

The first voice raised in volume. ‘His hair’s grown longer, so how was I supposed to know for sure?’ The voice then softened, turning almost into a satire of a mother’s voice. ‘Where’s your girlfriend? Did she break up with you?’

Three boys stood with their hands in their pockets. One, the owner of the first voice, wore baggy jeans and a plain black t-shirt. The owner of the second voice had a cap on his head and a piercing in one ear. The third boy was silent, wearing black jeans and a grey hoodie.

The second boy wore a shit-eating grin. ‘Who’s this?’

Eddie smiled, but Daniel could hear the deep intake of air as he breathed in. ‘This is Daniel. He’s my friend from my new school.’

The second boy looked Daniel up and down. ‘I’m glad to hear you’re making new… friends… Especially since you look… different from when you were at our school.’

The first boy stared at Eddie’s hair. ‘I guess you got even more into metal since we last saw each other. Your hair’s giving me Amy Lee vibes.’ 

‘Evanescence isn’t real metal!’ A stranger in the crowd shouted. 

The first boy coughed an ‘ahem’. ‘That is why you’re wearing that hair, right? Or are you trying to go for a Behemoth type of look?’

Eddie bit his lip. ‘Uh, it was great seeing you all, but Daniel and I have to get home.’

‘You’re going home together? Okay, don’t let us get in the way,’ the second boy said. ‘We should hang out again just the four of us.’

‘Y-yeah, that’ll be great. I’ll, uh, find you on Facebook.’

Eddie grabbed Daniel not by the hand, as Daniel expected for some reason, but by the arm. He dragged him outside. The otherwise cool air carried the warm winds that, for whatever reason, only appeared at night. Despite the warmth, Eddie shivered, turning his back to Daniel.

Daniel shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. ‘Did you guys have a fight before you moved or something?’

‘No, I just… I moved because of them.’ Daniel’s eyebrows leapt. ‘I wanted to get out of that school and start again. I wanted to be more… open with others. I never told those three that I’m gay. So when I saw them again just now, I felt chills run down my body. It was like I was shoved back in the closet again and thrown into a lake and expected to swim. Once you’re as out as I am, you kind of forget how to be in the closet again and it just… it brings you back down to reality, like ‘Oh yeah, I almost forgot how much life sucks’.’ Eddie turned towards Daniel and looked down at the ground. ‘I must sound incomprehensible to a... straight... guy.’

Daniel shrugged. ‘I just can’t imagine you being in the closet. Didn’t you say that you could never hide your true self or something like that?’

’When did I say that?’

Daniel felt his cheeks match the heat of the wind. ‘Some time ago. I don’t know.’

Eddie looked up at him, his eyes shiny with water and his lip bitten hard enough to chip bits of his black lipstick off.

‘Well, I can’t exactly be the perfect super gay all the time. I have to adapt to my surroundings. The hard bit is when you have a feeling someone suspects but you don’t know for sure so you’re always on edge. You’re half afraid of them finding out and half sick of pretending because they probably know anyway so there’s no point.’

Daniel felt those words sink deep into his soul. He forced on a smile.

‘Why don’t you come out to your friends? You came out to the entire year level.’

‘It’s a different scene. The metal scene’s different.’

‘Everyone seemed pretty welcoming.’

‘But I… I’ve heard horror stories about homophobia in the metal community. A lot of fans are all about masculinity and stuff. That’s kind of what drew me to the genre at first. But anyway, even if my friends know, we can’t really confront it. It’ll be too awkward and… like, what if they’re all like, ‘well, the charade’s over. We don’t need to humour you anymore’? I’m better off not knowing what they think.’

Daniel took a step towards Eddie. ‘Have any metal fans given you shit for being gay?’

Eddie’s eyes grew. ‘Not me, but-’

‘Then what’s the use in worrying? You’re kind of giving yourself trauma before a bad event even happens. Why don’t you just worry about all that when it comes?’

Eddie chuckled and ran his hand through his hair, causing a sharp inhale from Daniel. ‘I didn’t think of it that way. Thanks.’

Daniel‘s smile grew as he cocked his head to the side for a moment as if to tell him to follow him. Eddie drank in that smile and even felt something stir in his heart. He almost swore, but then he’d have to explain why he did that.

#bisexual #romance #gay #writing #LGBT #LGBT romance #yaoi #drama #original fiction #fiction #Breaking Stereotypes #So Apparently I Find Fairies Hot

[jinhwanxobs]

munday 4! (plus the other ones kinda?)

       this is my first munday here so hi everyone~! quick introduction as well i suppose (sort of summarizing a few of the other munday things) -- i’m grey and i use they/them pronouns! i am a college senior, comp. sci. major. i’ve written for fun since i could actually write, but I’ve been roleplaying (krp specifically) since fall 2014! (i’m also in central timezone -- an hour behind obscura main timezone). I don’t particularly have a strong preference for any kind of writing genre; it’s all more or less fair game! 

i’m sorry this is so long lmfao

munday 1!

What is your ultimate weakness; what makes you feel all soft and squishy inside?

“cute” things? ...my biases usually...

Write the first thing to come to mind in caps: BUT WHY Three random facts about you: i used to know how to play piano, i’ve owned a pokemon game from every generation except for the wii games (which do not count), and my bias groups are vixx, infinite, btob, f(x) and bts.

munday 2!

If your muse(s) could describe you in a few words, what would they say?

“at least they’re clean...”

What is the most wicked thing you could imagine your character doing?

as a witch he could very well slip into warlock-dom at a point so i’m not sure how general this should be -- magic can really fuck you up, kids. as it currently stands he’s... i could see him ruining someone’s life on social media or something if they really pissed him off though

If your muse(s) were real, would you fight them?

yes. he’d probably beat me on size alone. probably. but it’d be worth it

What object would you erase from existence if given the opportunity?

cigarettes. the smoke and residue makes me so sick

If you had a billion dollars and could only spend it, what would you buy first?

that’s a lot of money. i’d buy a service that’d help me invest it? or something? and pay off my loans. i’m not a very material person so i... have no idea.... outside of housing and donating most of it and helping out my friends

If you could play any sport, what would it be?

does dance count as a sport?? i love watching excellent and intense choreography and i do like to dance but i am very awkward-limbed

Do you have any fun hobbies or talents you’d like to share?

i like to draw! i actually write fanfic outside of rp too. mmm i like to cook/bake as well, and i like to play video games when i get the chance

Do you have/want any pets? 

i want a cat.......... please let me have a cat...........

munday 3!

What’s the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you?

well if i’m being a sap i’d say meeting all of my rp friends; i’m extremely fortunate in that regard. but as a more specific thing, i’d say my love live luck is pretty damn incredible. my best girl fuckin loves me. when scouting for job kanan i did 6 pulls, ur came home TWICE as did the hanamaru ssr also twice, as well as another ur and two ssrs?? and i’ve gotten every one of her cards that’s come out since then?? she’s too good to me

If you could attend any concert or event right now without any obstacles, what would you choose?

i would die (my anxiety would kill me) but a vixx concert with a hi-touch event

What’s your dream vacation?

being at the ocean (can you say beautiful, destin sands) with no pressure of going anywhere, meeting anyone. just lazing in the sand and swimming out into the water. getting caught in the waves sometimes but feeling all sun warm and happily worn at the end of the day

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate? Any style preferences?

tea! hot tea i can drink with or without sugar but my cold/ice tea has to be sweet -- (bubble) milk tea is also so so good

A game you love ( traditional, video, etc )?

i love pokemon......... i’ll say it ten thousand times....... hoenn is my favorite region (i love the routes around fortree....)

Favorite/Number one go-to internet meme?

Least favorite internet meme?

Something that makes you want to flip a table?

hmm... i’d have to be in the moment of flipping the table to tell you

In your opinion, do you fit the stereotyped traits of your western zodiac sign? Do you believe that another sign fits you better? What about your muse?

i don’t know? i think i’m perhaps more like a taurus than a libra. i don’t really understand the stereotypes very well. uuuh... jinhwan? he doesn’t fit the stereotyped traits of an aries either. maybe gemini?

Post a gif of what you’re currently feeling right now.

munday 4!

Do you prefer to brainstorm your plots or wing them? Do you have no preference in either?

i’m not so sure so far as what winging a plot would be -- i like to have a pretty good idea of what’s going to happen. not necessarily detail by detail, but having a good idea of the setting and how long a thread will go, if there might need to be any location changes or time skips possibly?? those are good things to discuss. you can’t always tell how a muse will react to things until you’re writing them in that moment, so it’s good to be flexible in regard to those changes too ouo

What kind of writing memes do you like, if any (sentence starters, drabble memes, head-canon memes, etc)?

i don’t particularly like sentence starters, as it’s hard for me to come up with fitting context for them. i love headcanon memes for sure but it’s a bit hard for me to say for anything else, as i’ve not had a lot of experience with them!

What’s the easiest way to plot with you? Alternatively, what is the easiest way to contact you for plotting?

give me all your ideas, any ideas!! even if they’re very silly to begin with (mine often are) there might be a good idea for a plot buried in there~ i’ll do the same but please do let me know if i need to slow down haha discord is the single best way of getting ahold of me (thru dms) please do not hesitate to add me and send me a message! on tumblr through dms is totally fine too but i sometimes lose track of them ;;

What kind of movies/television series/dramas/anime/etc do you like to watch?

i love animated stuff! most anime, western stuff like legend of korra, atla, steven universe, young justice, teen titans, etc.; i like action movies i guess? superhero stuff is pretty alright but uh pacific rim and mm: fury road are two of my favorite movies. unless it’s pretty gripping i have trouble paying attention (and also no matter what it is i usually prefer to watch with subs bc i always get a lot more out of it that way)

Would you be interested in the occasional group viewing of a movie/series/drama/cartoon/etc, if one were to be organized?

YELL HES. i have a ton of studio ghibli movies and also all three seasons of atla and all seasons of legend of korra, if i can just figure out how to stream them i’d love to help with that sort of thing also??? ?????

If yes to the above, do you have any specifics in time or day as to when you are available to attend? If no, is there any group activity that you would be interested in participating in (ie, games of some sort)?

bruh i’m down for anything. i’ll have school coming up here this next week but i’ll for the most part be free on the weekends outside of coding and doing schoolwork and hunting bugs. i’m done with class by the evening all during the week too

If you were caught up in a food fight, what food would you throw first?

oh geez... something that wouldn’t hurt? i’d probably just be trying to get out of there asap lmfao

If you could be any mythological beast, which one would you be and why?

DRAGON. NATURALLY. big dumb scaley dog with a big pile of shiny things in a hoard. that me -v-

Top five things that make you happy?

i don’t know about top five! but here’s a few... giving someone something that you’ve thought they’d really like and actually making their day; lazy background music and ambient noises in a place of solitude; chicken tikka masala with rice and naan; drawing silly things; ...pokemon? anything and everything about it?

Share a picture! It could be of your bias, a cute animal, a drawing, a meme, an anime wife—anything you’d like!

#ooc #obs: munday #(WHO NEEDS ALL THIS INFORMATION)