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multi-fxndom446 · 5 months

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Pretty like the sun

Alex Keller X Reader

Summary: you are upset with Alex for constantly leaving you in the dark, unaware of his reasons for doing so. (This is a part two for his ‘you came? You called scenario that I will link)

Warning: hurt/comfort, blood mention, gun mention, Alex being so in love with u idek

Word count: 4.3k

Again this is a part two to his scenario in you came? You called.

I wanted to write it as its own fic, sue me.

His part one is here

(Also screw this man for being this goddamn hot. Who let that happen??)

Alex could remember the last time he saw you clearly. He could remember every last detail about it only because it ended in an argument between the two of you. One of the worst ones you’ve ever had.

You had hunted him down the moment you found out he was back on base, steam practically blowing out of your ears as you leveled him with a glare. He was cornered in his room the minute you set foot in it.

You had been mad at him for falling off the face of the earth again. For calling you at the last minute again. Although he didn’t call you into the mission this time he had called you for intel for the mission you didn’t even realize he was on and Admittedly you had every right to be upset and he knew that and that’s why he stayed silent and took your anger.

He tried to apologize but you weren’t having it, you were so angry at him that you told him next time he called you doing this shit you weren’t picking up.

He didn’t believe you.

He believed you now though after you didn’t pick up his third call and he had to resort to calling Captain Price. Which he knew if you wouldn’t hear him out you would hear the Captain out, your respect for him was always unwavering.

He believed he could smooth it over when he saw you in person but the moment he saw Farah practically run away he knew he was wrong.

He could see the hurt in your eyes when he looked down at you and he knew right then he crossed a line he wasn’t sure he could fix now

The way your words held such annoyance told him everything he needed to know. You were pissed, rightfully so. Not only pissed at him but the situation, pissed at the fact you came running to him once again.

He could still feel the sharp jab of your finger to his chest as he now sat further away from you ‘inspecting’ his gun while he took multiple glances in your direction.

The jab to him didn’t hurt nearly as much as your words that seemed to settle deep in his bones. You announcing to him that you both weren’t okay worried him. It made him feel like this could truly be the last time he saw you.

“So are you going to explain now?” Farah came out of nowhere, taking the spot next to him as she got her weapons ready as well.

Alex stayed silent long enough for her to look up at him. She rolled her eyes when she saw the look on his face. “Alex I’m not stupid, there’s something that happened.” The gun clicked in her hands as she assembled it. “You both denied being exes so it’s something else but there’s definitely something so talk.”

“There’s really nothing.” Alex said, taking another glance at you. You were there speaking with Gaz about something with a small smile on your face, a smile he missed seeing this whole time.

Farah followed his line of sight to see you before she turned back to Alex who was now aggressively loading his gun. “Alex..” his movements halted at her tone. It was the authoritative one she used when one of her soldiers wasn't cooperating.

He sighed, setting his gun down next to him. He looked over at you one more time before settling on Farah, who’s whole attention was on him—waiting. “We enlisted at the same time.” He started as he picked up his hand gun. “We were practically inseparable, every mission we went on, we went on together.”

Farah watched him as he got lost in his story while his hands got more aggressive with the hand gun. “We trusted each other with our lives and it just worked. We trusted each other to get the job done no matter if the others life was at risk, we knew they’d get out of it alive.” His jaw was clenched tight as he loaded the gun. “And it worked. Until one of the last missions we went on together. She got compromised. She told me to leave her to get out of there to finish the mission but I didn’t listen. I went after her and I saved her, but in the process I almost jeopardized our mission and put our men’s lives at risk.”

“Alex..”

“I knew I was starting to gain feelings for her for a while at that point but I trusted myself not to jeopardize anything over it. I trusted myself to let her do her job.” Finally with a click the gun was finished being prepped and he had nowhere to look but at Farah. “But I couldn’t…I couldn’t let her die. After that I started taking missions alone so that wouldn’t happen again and more often than not I’d drop off the face of the earth and it took a strain on us. This last time I did it seemed to be the final straw.” He explained, looking down at his hands.

“So you stopped going on missions with her because you couldn’t trust yourself not to go after her in a crisis?” Farah clarified and he nodded, “yet you call her to this one?”

“She’s one of the best soldiers I know. I never said I couldn’t trust her to get the job done.” He was quick to defend but Farah had her brows pinched in worry.

“But you don’t trust yourself?”

Alex sighed, “we’ll be on different teams and she’ll be with the Captain.” He could see the doubt on her face. “I’ll get this done Farah. This is more important than my inner turmoil. I know that and she knows that.”

Farah just shook her head. “But does she Alex?” He must’ve looked confused because all she did was sigh and stand to her feet. “Obviously whatever feelings you have are mutual, you should talk to her before this mission.”

“No no, the last thing I need to do is distract her.” Farah crossed her arms.

“But you won’t be distracted?”

“I promise..” he said looking up at her. “I promise I won’t.”

“I’m trusting you on this.”

“You can, I’ll get it done.” Farah hummed and gave him a look that he knew meant she wasn’t entirely convinced but she left it alone and walked away to help everyone else prepare.

Alex watched her go before he took one more risky glance at you. His breathe caught in his throat when your gazes connected. He couldn’t even bring himself to wave or smile because you were frowning at him and turning away before he even could.

He remembered that day vividly. The day he almost lost you, it played on repeat in his mind continuously. So much so that he often had nightmares about it. How what if he didn’t go to you, what if he left you or what if he didn’t make it in time? You wouldn’t be here glaring at him.

He remembered you desperately telling him to go, to leave you and he stood conflicted. one foot already moving in the direction of your location while the other was firmly planted to the ground.

He remembered his men grabbing onto him, trying to yank him to the evac but still he wouldn’t move. His entire world seemed to slow to a halt that day.

He wanted to trust that you would get out, that you would live because you always somehow managed to do just that but then he heard your ear piercing scream and gunshots.

The world seemed to start spinning in that moment when he took off in your direction, ignoring the calls of his men behind him.

He remembered when he made it to you, you were barely clinging to life. You had your gun clutched loosely in your hand trying your best to kill any enemies that came near but you ran out of ammo.

The rest of your team was dead caused by the ambush that nearly stole you from him so he was quick to help you up. He put your left arm over his shoulder while his right went around your waist to help you walk.

He got you out, but he almost missed the evac. He got you out, but he almost got his own men killed when they started to get surrounded at said evac.

When you woke up in the hospital days later, he told you what happened and although you weren’t mad at him he was furious with himself because not even two beds away there was one of his men that got injured trying to hold down the evac site while they waited for him.

It's what made him decide he could no longer go on missions with you. He accepted a while before that, that he had fallen in love with you, he even accepted that you wouldn’t feel the same and probably even be mad that he’d drop what he was doing to run to you like you were a damsel in distress.

But then you didn’t get mad at him and suddenly he was faced with the possibility you felt the same. And he knew that at some point one of you would jeopardize a mission, the worst part was he wasn’t sure he would regret doing it if it meant you got out alive.

Alex always prided himself on being a good soldier. It was something as simple as breathing. He was a good soldier and a decent person..he followed the rules and did as he was told by the higher ups. But when it’s you at risk he can’t do that.

In a last second decision he decided that Farah may be right and he should just talk to you, rip the band aid off and get everything he needed to say off his chest.

He got to his feet and took only a few steps in your direction calling your name. You barely had time to turn around before Price clapped him on the shoulder. “Alright we’re heading out, you ready Alex?”

Alex watched you glance over to him before you followed Gaz and he let out a short sigh. “Affirmative sir.” Then he was being pushed in the direction where Farah and her soldiers were loading up.

The whole way to the mission site Alex couldn’t stop thinking about how Farah probably was right. He should’ve talked to you because he never knew if the next mission would be his last. He could hardly live with the regret of not telling you he didn’t want to think about how he’d feel having to take it to his grave, he was sure he’d roam this earth forever if that were the case.

The moment the mission was in full swing Alex was laser focused. Both teams were together and he wasn’t wondering about your status because he was right next to you as if he just gravitated towards you. To used to fighting by your side when you were on the field together.

Subconsciously the two of you seemed to fall back into the way you used to fight together. Covering each other's asses like you used to back when you went on every mission together.

The moment you went down to reload he’d cover you and then when he would be out in the open throwing a grenade you’d be right beside him keeping him covered. You called to each other effortlessly.

It was one of the many reasons you were always paired up in the beginning. You worked well together, angry at each other or not.

Then came the moment the teams had to separate. It was fast, almost unnoticeable how your eyes connected with his and you mouthed a quick ‘stay alive’ before you were turning away and he was leaving with Farah.

He knew in that moment he was right to stop going on missions with you. The entire time he was away from you he felt like his heart was squeezing tightly in his chest like some sort of string that was attached to you pulled on it and made him weak.

Farah spared him one glance before the real fight began almost to ensure he was still with her and although he was she could see that there was the tiniest bit of himself that was focused solely on you. But she could also see he was determined to ignore it.

And he did just that the moment his detonator was destroyed.

He ignored the want to know if you were safe the entire time he was fighting the man in a juggernaut suit and the entire time they swept out the rest of the enemy forces.

He ignored it for as long as he could until he couldn’t anymore and he was face to face with Farah, grabbing onto the broken detonator as he prepared to sacrifice himself.

It was a situation he was dreading, he didn’t want to die. But he also couldn’t help but be happy it turned out this way instead of the way that equaled him losing you. He had faith you would move on eventually, he couldn’t say the same for himself if he lost you. No matter how selfish it sounded.

“Alex…” Farah called softly, watching him hesitate at the door. He looked at her from the corner of his eye as he tried not to let her see his inner conflict.

He wanted to tell you, but would it be too selfish of him to do it in a situation where he would likely die? Would you ever forgive him if he did?

“Tell her.” His head snapped in the direction of Farah who held a knowing look on her face. “She deserves to know. No matter what happens when you walk out that door she deserves to know.”

Alex stared at her for a long moment before giving her a soft smile. “I’ll be quick.” She nodded and watched him walk further away for some privacy. “Y/n come in.”

It was silent for a moment and he was worried you would ignore him then your voice finally came through, slightly muffled. “Alex? We’re setting the bombs on our end, you and Farah good?” You asked him and he could hear the slight worry in your voice.

“Can you switch to a different channel?” He asked, diverting away from your question. You gave a quiet okay before flipping to the channel he requested. “I don’t have a lot of time but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Alex, you're making me nervous.” You sounded out of breathe and he wondered if you were still in the process of setting the last of the bombs and it almost made him feel guilty again. When he stayed silent for too long you called his name urgently.

“I-“ he paused, second guessing again in a situation he shouldn’t be taking time to think. ‘Rip it off like a band aid..’ he told himself, taking a deep breathe. “I’m in love with you.”

He heard you pause. “What?”

“I’m in love with you.” He said again making sure you understood every word he said. “I’ve been in love with you and I’ll continue to be in love with you even after whatever happens next.”

“Whatever happens next…?” He could hear the panic starting to rise in your voice. “Alex this isn’t funny. You better tell me you have the bombs placed and are ready-“

“My detonator is broken.” He confessed quietly, letting the statement settle in the tense silence as you processed his words.

He could hear you take a breathe, “Alex, don’t tell me what I think you’re about to tell me.” He felt his heart break the same moment your voice did. That invisible string he felt around his heart tugging harshly. “Alex!”

“I have to go detonate it myself.” He could practically feel you stop breathing at the realization. “I’m sorry this couldn’t be done the way I wanted it to, and I’m sorry for disappearing on you all those times. I just couldn’t put myself in a position where I could lose you again or put everyone else at risk.”

There was a long pause where he was worried something happened but then he heard you take a shaky breathe. “And you think I want to put myself in that position Alex?! You think I don’t want to run to you right now and tell you you’re stupid?!”

“But you won’t.” His words cut deep. He knew you would go to him on a moment's notice. He knew if he called to you, you would come but he couldn’t let that happen because it wasn’t just your life, it was Farahs, it was her people and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did what he asked. “You have a job to do.”

He heard you sniff as you tried to contain your tears. “Alex, you better come back to me. I won’t forgive you if you disappear from my life permanently.” He could hear your voice crack. “Come back to me Alex.” You begged and a sad smile lifted on his face.

“Yes ma’am.”

Then he was turning back to the door and running through not even letting himself think about the fact you hadn’t gotten to tell him you loved him too.

But it was a moment in which you would feel for the next coming days and months as his words would live on repeat in your head.

It had been months since he last saw you.

Months.

It was safe to say Alex was nervous. He was practically shaking where he sat with Farah on the back of the truck, his leg bouncing anxiously as they got closer and closer to Farahs base.

From what Captain Price told him, before he and Gaz left their separate ways, you were at Farahs base and you had been for a while.

“Think she felt pretty guilty after what happened.” Price told him with a small sigh. It made Alex feel like shit because it would be just like you to feel guilty over something he did. It would be just like you to try and pay back his sacrifice in any way you could even if you didn’t have too.

“You don’t have anything to worry about Alex.” Farah finally told him when she got tired of hearing his foot bounce against the metal of the truck. “I think a lot of her reasons for staying with me is because it made her feel closer to you.”

“Does she know?” Alex asked, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’ve been gone for a while, does she know that I’m-?”

He didn’t even want to finish the sentence. If you had thought he was dead this whole time he didn’t know what he would do. Farah made the executive decision awhile ago to not have you involved in the mission Alex went on so there was a possibility you didn’t.

“She knows you're alive. As for where you were…” she doesn’t continue but she doesn’t have to, he knows what she’s trying to say. She never gave away that she knew his location and Alex had no idea until now that you were so close this whole time.

He figured it was better this way. It let him focus his entirety on the mission but now the mission was over and he was growing more anxious as the base finally came into view.

The moment the truck came to a stop he felt like his whole world started moving in slow motion. Sounds become muffled as if he were underwater. He couldn’t focus on anything else, nothing else mattered except the fact you were on the same ground as him.

His eyes glanced everywhere the moment he was standing on solid ground. Head snapping in every direction as he took in every face that passed by him. He heard Farah call his name but didn’t care until she grabbed his arm and suddenly sounds became crystal clear for him.

He looked down at her and when she saw she had his attention she nodded her head in the direction of the bunkers. “Come.” She let go of him and he was left to blindly follow her.

Alex followed after her silently for what felt like an eternity. When he opened his mouth to finally question her she came to a halt right outside one of the meeting rooms she had.

He went to ask what she was doing when he heard it. Your voice. The same voice he’s been missing for months.

You were talking over more game plans with some of Farahs soldiers and Alex felt like his heart completely stalled. You sounded just as beautiful as the last time he spoke to you when he confessed his feelings.

Farah glanced up at him to see his reaction and almost wanted to laugh when all he could seem to do was stare at the closed door. You were so close to him yet he couldn’t get himself to move so she made the first one.

She opened the door with no hesitation and gave you and everyone else a kind smile as she greeted you. “Y/n, hard at work I see.” You didn’t see Alex yet, he was still stuck out in the hallway in disbelief.

“As always Commander.” You laughed softly and it was like music to his ears.

Farah smiled at you before motioning to her people, “will you guys leave us? There’s something I need to discuss with Y/n.” They did without question, dodging past Alex who still had yet to move.

“Something wrong?” You asked when you were alone. He could hear it in your voice, the worry. You were worried she had more news on him and you were worried it wasn’t good.

“I have something for you.” You stared at her in confusion before the door behind her opened softly and your eyes were immediately drawn to it.

You felt your breathe hitch. There stood just behind Farah was Alex who looked just as breathless as you were. You were stunned, your arms that had been crossed fell to your side as you took him in before you started moving towards him, eyes never leaving his. He watched you nervously as you slowly made your way around the table to come closer to him.

“Y/n…” he said softly, nervous as you came closer to him with a look on your face that he couldn’t decipher. He was almost sure you were going to punch him in the face which he would accept wholeheartedly.

But then as he was spewing out apologies trying to get you to listen to him you stopped right in front of him, grabbed onto the vest he had yet to take off and pulled him down to you. Crashing your lips together.

Your other hand that wasn’t clinging to his vest wrapped itself around his neck and his quickly wrapped his around your waist to pull you flush against him.

In the background he could faintly hear the click of the door as Farah left to give you both privacy. But he honestly couldn’t care if she stayed or not, not when you were finally in his arms again.

You kissed him like you had been deprived of oxygen for the months he was away from you, he was sure he wasn’t any better as one hand came up to tangle itself in your hair trying to keep you as close as possible.

When finally you pulled away from him for air you didn’t go far just far enough to gain your breathe. You stared up at him in a way that made his heart ache, like you were wondering if you were dreaming.

When he opened his mouth to say something you beat him to it. “I love you too.” You said softly, smiling at the way his eyes widened and a relieved grin formed on his face. “You didn’t give me a chance to say it.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere and he was. He wished more than anything to hear you say those words. He wanted to hear them the moment he realized his feelings. “I came back to you.”

“I knew you would.” Both your hands came to rest on his face while you took him in, fingers tracing delicately across his jaw reveling in the way he shivered at your touch. “Your hair is darker.”

He laughed. It was your attempt at not pointing out his obvious missing leg. “You’re just as beautiful.” He whispered, placing a soft kiss to your lips while his hands fell back down to your waist. “I’m so sorry..”

“Alex you don’t have to-“ you shook your head but he stopped you.

“I do.” He said sternly, “I need to say it to you properly. I’m sorry. For everything. For making you worry about me, for disappearing, for not telling you any of this sooner. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes flickered between his as his words settled in the air, he had a small frown on his face but refused to look away from you. Relief flooded him the moment your lips turned up and your fingers ran over his cheeks. “I forgive you Alex..”

He let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and pulled you in for a small kiss. “I love you.” He whispered against your lips

You smiled and pulled him back down to you. “I love you too.” You murmured before closing the distance again, feeling him smile against you.

—

Hope yall like it I tried really hard to live up to expectations 🙏🏻😭 thank you for everyone who requested a part two for him tho love yall

#call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #cod x reader #alex keller x reader #Alex cod x reader #alex keller imagine #cod imagine

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1kook · 3 years

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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sturchling · 3 years

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a story of marinette moving to Gotham.

And going to gotham academy and having her own boutique. Damienette pairing. Cat noir salt. You dont have to if u dont want too.

Sorry for the long wait, work has been keeping me super busy lately. I hope you like this and it was worth the wait! I had a hard time trying to work in the Chat Noir salt, so its more like Adrien salt. Let me know what you think!

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Marinette was tired of Lila and her lies. She was tired of Adrien’s refusal to help defend her from the liar. And she was tired of everyone believing the liar over Marinette. Most of the school now believed that Marinette was a horrible bully that had been attacking Lila since she arrived. Marinette had been removed as class rep and was constantly given detention by Mr. Damocles. Marinette’s parents have been very supportive, and now realized that Lila was just a malicious liar. But even with their support, it had become to much for Marinette and she knew it was time to leave Paris.

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Her parents were hesitant when she brought up the idea. Marinette had found a study abroad program where she could attend Gotham academy, hosted by Bruce Wayne himself. She discussed it with her parents, really hoping to convince them. They were obviously concerned for a number of reasons. The main one being the crime rate in Gotham. They knew that Marinette needed to get away from Paris, that things had gotten bad in the city for her. But they didn’t want to send her to a dangerous city where she could be hurt or killed. But after speaking with Marinette for several hours, they started to realize how excited Marinette was for the opportunity. While they were still worried, they knew this was the right place for Marinette. And they were comforted that if she was accepted, she would be hosted by and staying with Bruce Wayne. His manor is one of the safest places in the city. So, they agreed with Marinette that she could apply the program.

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

So Marinette applied to the study abroad program. She didn’t tell anyone at the school, not like anyone in the class was speaking to her anyway. She waited anxiously for news from the program, hoping to hear that she had been accepted. The longer she didn’t hear anything, the more anxious she became. She was sure that she had been rejected and they just hadn’t told her. Marinette had just got back from a particularly bad day at school, when she noticed she had a new email. An email from the study abroad program. She raced to open the email, and started cheering when she read the line We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Gotham Academy Study Abroad Program. Marinette raced downstairs and told her parents the news. The email said that she would be expected in Gotham by the end of the month. It went on to explain details of the program. That night the Dupain-Cheng family celebrated, and began preparing for Marinette’s departure.

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

The last month of Marinette’s time in Paris seemed to drag on and on. Everyday she had to listen to Lila’s lie all day long and the whole class fawn over here. She had to endure Lila accusing her of bullying almost daily and almost daily detentions. But finally, it was her final day at the Dupont. She was almost giddy as she walked to Mr. Damocles’ office with her parents. When she entered the office and Mr. Damocles saw her, he just sighed. “What did you do now Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Then he saw her parents in the office and straightened up. “I didn’t do anything Mr. Damocles. I never did anything Lila accused me of, but I know you will never believe me on that. We are just here to get my academic records and inform you that I will no longer be attending this school after today.” Mr. Damocles was flustered by the sudden declaration. “What do you mean you won’t be attending anymore? Where are you going?” Mr. Dupain stepped forward, barely containing his contempt for this man who had been helping to make his daughter miserable. “Marinette will be studying abroad in America for the next year at least. Now, give us the academic records.” Mr. Damocles stuttered for a while, wondering how such a bully got accepted to such an amazing program. But soon, the Dupain-Chengs got the records from him and were on their way.

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Marinette went down to the locker room with her parents and started emptying her locker. Class hadn’t started yet so, everyone was still in the locker room. They were confused when Marinette started emptying her locker. Adrien, who was about the only person that still talked to Marinette from time to time, approached the young designer. “Marinette? What are you doing?” Marinette didn’t look at any of them, continuing to empty her locker as she responded. “I am emptying my locker. Starting Monday, I will no longer be here for school. I am transferring to Gotham Academy.” The class stood in shock, they never expected Marinette to leave. Sure they were happy that Lila would be able to come to school in peace, but it would be weird without Marinette here. They just stood in shocked silence, as Marinette finished with her locker and walked out with her parents.

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

Adrien was shocked by Marinette’s decision. Why would she leave? He knew things had been tough for her lately, but he had kept telling her that it would get better soon. Soon the class would realize that Lila was a liar. That she just had to wait a little longer. But Marinette had clearly given up and was running away. That wasn’t like Marinette at all. When he had the chance, Adrien was going to go pay her a visit in Gotham and convince her to return.

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

Marinette was already loving Gotham. She had been met at the airport by Alfred who brought her to the manor. Mr. Wayne was very nice and introduced her to his children as well. Marinette was the same age as Damian and would be in the same class as him as well. Damian had expected to be irritated by this girl when he was first informed of their guest. But to his surprise, he didn’t find her presence as repulsive as everyone else.

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

Weeks went by and Marinette was having a wonderful time. She had made some wonderful friends in her class, though she was nervous to try and make friends after Mrs. Bustier’s class. But she was welcomed warmly by her new class. Her and Damian had also grown close over the weeks. They had started dating recently, and would often spend their time together quietly working on their different craft projects; Marinette working on her designs, and Damian working on his most recent painting. The Waynes were shocked at the change Marinette had caused in the youngest Wayne. Damian was still a very reserved person, but he was considerably warmer to Marinette and had started to act warmer to his family as well.

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

While Marinette wasn’t aware of it, her departure brought about Lila’s downfall. Lila hadn’t been at school recently, on a ‘diplomatic trip to Achu’, and because of that, she didn’t know Marinette left Paris. So when she came back, she was planning on making her next attack against Marinette’s reputation. She used makeup to make fake bruises and called up her tears as she entered the classroom. The class was horrified to see their friend crying and injured. They raced forward and asked Lila what happened. “It was horrible. As soon as I returned to the city last night, Marinette was waiting for me outside my home. She was so mad that she got detention for a week when I told Mr. Damocles that she had stolen my book. She beat me up and said if I ever said anything I would regret it! I am so scared!” Lila was proud of this performance. It was probably one of her best performances yet. But when she looked up at the class, she was surprised to see that the class was staring at her doubtfully.

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Alya, feeling dread in her stomach, asked “Are you sure it was Marinette last night? No chance it was someone else?” Lila, irritated that they were questioning her, didn’t notice the tension in the room. “Of course it was Marinette. I saw her face and there is no way it was anyone else last night.” Nino, who was now realizing that this could mean that Marinette was right and that Lila was a liar, asked “What do you mean Marinette attacked you last night? Marinette moved to Gotham almost two weeks ago. She couldn’t have attacked you last night.” Now Lila was horrified. This was a major mistake. Lila was trying to back pedal, and figure a way out of this mess, but the class had realized at this point that Lila was lying and that she had probably been lying before when Marinette was still here. The class started to yell at Lila as they realized that she had been lying to them all this time. Lila raced from the room, not wanting to face the class. The class quickly tried to reach out to Marinette, to apologize and ask her to come home, but the number they had for her had been disconnected. Adrien was disappointed that Marinette hadn’t told anyone her new number, not even him. He was going to go to Gotham soon and try to convince her to come back. He was sure their Everyday Ladybug would be willing to come back.

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One day, weeks after Lila’s exposure, Damian and Marinette were sitting in the garden just relaxing. After watching Marinette work on a new design, Damian said, “Marinette, you should really try to open a boutique. Your work is terrific and you would be very successful.” Marinette seemed shocked for a moment. “You really think I should? I wouldn’t even know where to start. And how would I afford a building? I don’t think I could do it.” Marinette continued to anxiously ramble, until Damian came to stand in front of Marinette. “Marinette, Angel, breathe. I am sure you would do wonderfully. And as for the building, my father has multiple buildings in the city that he isn’t using. I am sure he would allow you to set up in one of them.” After more convincing, Marinette agreed to at least ask Bruce about it. When they approached Bruce, he was very willing to help Marinette set up her first boutique. He had seen the girl’s designs and knew that she would be a major success. Marinette felt bad about just taking one of his buildings and accepting his help with getting everything she needed for the boutique, but she accepted when Bruce told her to consider it a loan if that made her more comfortable. Then, they immediately started setting up her boutique.

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After about a month, everything was set up and Marinette’s boutique had opened under the name MDC. She was an instant success and quickly became very busy with several orders from big name clients. As time went on, Marinette began to feel like Gotham was her home. One day, after she had closed the boutique and was leaving with Damian to go on a date, they were approached by a familiar face. “Adrien?” Adrien smiled and approached her. “Hi Marinette.” Damian sensing the tension, stepped closer to Marinette. “Who is this Marinette?” Adrien looked at the boy standing next to Marinette and didn’t recognize him at all. “Damian, this is Adrien, someone I knew in Paris. Adrien, this is my boyfriend Damian.” That took Adrien by surprise, but he moved past it. He was sure that Marinette would leave this Damian and come back to Paris where she belonged.

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“So what are you doing here Adrien?” Adrien smiled again, “I am here to bring you home Marinette! Lila has been found out and she is gone. You don’t have to keep hiding here in Gotham. You can come home and back to the class. Everything can go back to normal.” Marinette just stared at him, as Damian started to get angry. Adrien didn’t pick up on the tension. “So come on. Lets go get your things. We can fly back to Paris in the morning.” Adrien tried to grab her arm, but Marinette moved back, avoiding him. “I’m sorry Adrien, but I’m not going back. I am really happy here. I still have months with the study abroad program and may stay here permanently if I can. I have friends who wouldn’t leave me for a liar. Damian is here. And my boutique is doing really well. I am not ready to go back to Paris.” Adrien just rolled his eyes. “Come on Marinette, you have friends in Paris, and you can set up a new boutique in Paris. Its no big deal. So come on, lets go.” Adrien once again tried to grab at Marinette’s arm, this time Damian got in his way and shoved him back. “Marinette said she didn’t want to go with you so that is that. You should go now, you have embarrassed yourself enough.” Adrien glared at Damian, angry that he was getting in his way. “I am not leaving. Not until Marinette tells me to, so stay out of this.” Marinette stepped out from behind Damian, looking more confident then Adrien ever remembered seeing her. “Adrien you should leave. I am happy here and I am not going back to Paris. My ‘friends’ in Paris turned their backs on me because of the liar’s pretty words. My friends here would never do that to me. Now please leave.” Adrien was shocked, and didn’t move. Damian rolled his eyes and guided Marinette around Adrien and back to the manor.

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Adrien went back to Paris, alone, the day after his conversation with Marinette. He was surprised that Marinette wouldn’t come back with him. Mrs. Bustier’s class was sad when Adrien came back without Marinette. They had hoped she would come back, but unlike Adrien, they knew the chances were slim. While they were sad that Marinette was gone and that they had chased off such a good friend, they were happy that she had found a place that she could live happily. They tried to move on, hoping that one day they may get the chance to apologize to Marinette in person.

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Marinette stayed in Gotham after her conversation with Adrien. She finished her year with the study abroad program and then decided to live in Gotham permanently, with her parents blessing. She continued to stay at the manor, living happily with the Waynes. She continued using the horse miraculous to go back and forth to Paris for the akumas and soon revealed her identity to the Waynes once she realized they were the Batfam. Her boutique continued to be a major success. Her life had improved in every way it could. She was surrounded by true friends, she had a boyfriend who truly cared for her, her fashion business had started with great success, and she didn’t have to deal with the liar anymore. She was the happiest she had been in a long time, and she intended to be this happy for the rest of her life in Gotham.

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ectonurites · 3 years

Note

do u have any thoughts on the whole “tim is zapped to time prison” storyline? bc i feel like it could have been pretty interesting and a good way to bring back young justice/tim’s memories more immediately if it hadn’t been such a blatant attempt to just get tim out of storylines bc they had no ideas for his character

sorry lol u don’t have to respond i just kind of wish people talked about this storyline more? and the fact that tim lowkey became one of the only people in dc with knowledge of the other timelines (i think so at least) and nobody really addressed it?? like going into the next phase where people learn about other timelines after death metal.... tim should already know some of this stuff right?

YES YES YES OKAY LETS TALK ABOUT THIS this got incredibly long because I just have a lot to say (and i included screenshots) and i prob got a little off topic but. but lets get started anyways:

i haven’t read that particular storyline in a few months so i might be missing/misremembering some details here, but that whole ‘time prison + future tim’ thing was like. a really really interesting concept and the implications/impacts it has are a big part of why i liked tynion’s detective comics run as much as i did even with it’s flaws in characterization (such as treating tim like he was jimmy neutron boy genius and making steph..... be all ready to quit/breakaway from the team like that. the steph quitting characterization really started i think in batgirl convergence and unfortunately has haunted her since, even though pre reboot never giving up was like...... one of her defining traits. dc i hate you sometimes)

i think that one of the biggest things that bothers me about the situation is how little we saw most of the other characters in the batfamily grieve (aside from steph and some with bruce, but again the way steph was portrayed just... hhhhhh. it very much reduced her to ‘tims girlfriend’ more than i’d have preferred) but otherwise like...as far as I can remember there was maybe one line in that monsters crossover thing where dick mentioned tim was gone, jason had a single line about avoiding the funeral in rhato, i dont think they showed any reaction from babs at all until after he was back, and the most for damian I recall is at the end of the 2014 teen titans run (#24) where he looks at... a case with the old red robin uniform Tim wasn’t even wearing anymore when he died? and that just bugs me. Instead of getting to see the actual funeral we get one flashback to it way after the fact once Bruce already knows Tim’s not actually dead

But at the time when they all DID think he was dead? the closest thing we see was in that same teen titans issue (#24) there’s a memorial-type ‘sharing stories’ thing after the funeral with tim’s titans friends but.... we don’t see something like that with his family. tim is a major presence in these peoples’ lives, they are his family, when he gets sent into time prison its even SAID how loved he apparently is

its just... idk. they all thought he was dead, and if they had put more emphasis on showing not just telling how that effected EVERYONE (not just steph) in the batfam, it might have felt a lot less like they were just putting tim away until there was a story idea for him. (like obviously I know they can’t make everyone’s stories revolve around Tim, but I’d have way preferred a detective comics issue of the funeral/memorial with the family than having there only be a teen titans one, I think it would have... held more relevance & meaning... but instead they just went right into that monster crossover story instead of lingering on this)

but then the Tim story itself once it does pick up way later, with titans tomorrow/future tim coming along having that whole “tell conner you’re sorry” “who’s conner?” exchange with current tim... that opens up A LOT of things to think about, and I think was pretty interestingly done if i’m remembering correctly. future tim recognizes the timelines are different, and ya know goes off to try to change things further ("whaddaya got there?” “a gun to kill batwoman” “NO!!!!”), theres lots of fighting etc etc the good guys win as we expect, but once that’s all settled tim’s left there with this whole. thought process

which ya know is the big indicator there’s weird timeline/reality fuckery going on (or also the read here can be that tim and kon are so connected across all space and time that their bond can transcend anything even timelines and realities and reboots... “and they were soulmates” “oh my god they were soulmates”)

ANYWAYS lets not forget that tim isnt the only one who learns about this other timeline stuff during this whole situation!

Brother Eye has records of future tim’s timeline, and cass & steph see who they used to be! and as soon as steph finds out ‘holy shit i was ROBIN and BATGIRL?’ she also desperately wants to know more! which then a bit later leads into young justice 2019 where instead of going off to college like they told Bruce they were gonna, Steph and Tim go get the help of Zatanna to see what might be going on in their brains with these timelines and weird feelings (as we see in flashback form in yj 2019 #5)

and HOO BOY DOES SHE FIND THINGS! she gets in there and finds out that oh yeah, their brains had very much so been tampered with, and with her magic she undoes some of it, by unlocking memories, and Tim finally remembers Conner! (also in case u were wondering, that panel is specifically a callback to this one from yj 1998 #17 when Cissie quit the team)

one thing that I think is weird/interesting/idk if it gets... properly addressed even, was that Zatanna also poked around Steph’s brain too and she didn’t remember everything? Might have something to do even with how Tim had been in time prison, might have taken less work from Z to open things up because of that? Who knows

additionally i wanna call attention to how he said “That entire chapter of my life” which... leading into my next point a bit... strongly leads me to believe even though he’s remembering some things he definitely does not have ALL of his memories back (because theres a lot more than just the young justice ‘chapter’ of tim’s life that was drastically changed by the new 52 & rebirth)

BUT moving on, i wanna bring up this part from later on (after they figured out that there was a crisis that caused things in the world to change, which is why their memories/brains were messed with) in issue #16

so yeah, I think it’s indicated even though Zatanna brought back some memories and opened up his brain a bit, there’s still many holes, and some things seem more like dreams rather than memories and he’s probably unable to tell which are which on his own to some extent. (also for reference the real thing that Tim thought was just a dream is... likely yj 1998 issue #1)

So based on the things i’ve brought up here (which are the things I remember off the top of my head, I could easily be accidentally leaving shit out LMAO i haven’t fully read through any of these books in at least 3 or more months now) I think it’s safe to assume that Tim definitely has a head start on getting back his memories before Death Metal happens, but that it was by no means a complete thing. So the after effects of Death Metal are probably just gonna... be a little less drastic for him vs most other people because it was already happening, but it’ll be kinda filling in the remaining gaps?

And like you said he is absolutely one of the few people that already knew about about the timelines/the fact that these crises have happened and changed things, but pretty much all the other young justice characters are also aware that there was meddling in the timeline/that multiple timelines and alternate universes like this exist since they were all together as a group when it got explained (in like. yj 2019 #15 i believe is where most of the explaining happens) (and cass as well is aware of things to some extent because of her and steph’s interaction with Brother Eye) but the difference is that Zatanna didn’t go into everyone’s brains, so they aren’t dealing with the same memory things as Tim (and possibly Steph? because again Z DID go in her brain, she just wasn’t able to unlock all the same things as she did with Tim)

but yeah in general i SO wish this was explored more, both in canon and in fanworks (fanworks tho... that can still happen >:3c). Memories hazily coming in for Tim while Kon and Bart are able to confirm or deny things, him dealing with conflicting memories and feelings about his past as they trickle in... like I think we’ll start to see these types of things moving forward across a lot of titles with Infinite Frontier (i BELIEVE dont quote me on this but I BELIEVE the person writing Damian’s upcoming solo had mentioned in an interview that the memories coming back of the other timeline aren’t going to be an all at once thing but will be more gradual for most characters) but the fact that it theoretically had already been happening for Tim for MONTHS and we only got that one crumb indicating it in #16 of it instead of any actual exploration makes me SAAAAAAD

#Anonymous #tim drake #dc comics #meta #sam talks about tim too much #if anyone has diff thoughts interpretations im always down to discuss!#this sent me down a rabbit hole thats why i didnt answer last night it was Suddenly 1am djsjsjs #also sorry no issue numbers on the detective comics stuff but those r screenshots i already had #from my readthrough a while back or google images. so i didnt go check

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the-hopeless-haze · 3 years

Text

Somebody Sit in My Chair and Ruin My Sleep (Being Alive Ch 15)

A/N: Idk how I feel about this chapter but here u go I guess lol

Previous Chapter

content warnings: implied smut

WC: 1.9k

Rafael didn’t have any idea what he was walking into on Monday morning, but Jesus Christ, the fact that you let the squad know what happened - down to the very last detail, it seemed - was a horror show. Amanda avoids him in some show of female solidarity, Nick shoots him sympathetic looks, and Sonny - fucking Sonny asks Rafael how he is and won’t stop asking how you were, if he’d heard from you.

But why should he expect mercy from the woman who turned down his proposal?

And maybe he deserved it. Maybe he should’ve tried to read the room instead of just pushing forward. You had been right - that night certainly wasn’t the prime time for a proposal in the slightest. Hindsight is always 20/20, and he keeps remembering moments where you were slipping away inch by inch like sand past his fingertips, and he can’t believe how stupid he was that he chose to swallow it down and chalk it up as nothing instead of sitting down and actually talking to you.

Still, communication is a two way street, and instead of sending him vague signals that he was too obtuse to decipher, you could’ve sat down and talked to him too.

It’s so much easier to assign blame than take it, isn’t it?

Ultimately, though, he just couldn’t believe you weren’t on the same page as him. Didn’t you always say you wanted all these things? Weren’t you happy that Rafael finally felt he was ready, too? Perhaps though, in the midst of all his internal turmoil he truly forgot to assess your feelings on the matter. Yes, you said you wanted children, yes, your parents constantly threw comments his way about settling down with you, and yes, you’d told him on multiple occasions he wasn’t too old to get married if that’s truly what he wanted.

But where was your actual opinion on marrying him in any of this? It was lost in between the need you no doubt felt to constantly comfort Rafael about his current misgivings and past misfortunes and your parents’ well-meaning but busy-bodied comments. It was clouded by Rafael’s own mother’s opinions, and hell, even Sonny’s - everyone was so afraid Rafael was going to lose you that they pressured him into offering you a ring and a promise of forever - but little did anyone know that by doing just that... he had in fact lost you anyway.

His mother was devastated, weeping about how you would’ve made such a lovely bride, how she was already looking at suits for Rafael and venues for the wedding... he couldn’t handle it and left her apartment after ten minutes of her lamentation. He should’ve never told her, he should’ve never been so sure of what was going on in your head, because now he realizes he never had any idea. No one did.

So now, he snaps at Sonny, because Sonny is guilty by way of telling him “oh sure, she’ll say yes” like anyone knew what the fuck you would do when the question was finally asked. Maybe you didn’t even know until he was down on one knee. Still, Rafael can’t help wondering if things would be different if the car accident never happened - deep down, he knows there were signs you were pulling away after Thanksgiving, but it’s so much easier to blame Sonny for it. You wouldn’t have sunk so low in a deep depression if you could’ve worked, if you weren’t immobilized by your injury... but would you have loved Rafael enough anyway?

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Rafael hisses at the younger detective. “You’ve been talking my ear off all morning.”

“Whoa, Barba, wake up on the wrong side of the bed today or what? I was just getting you up to speed on the case—“

“I’ve read the file. You don’t need to.”

“Fine. Liv’s in her office but I suggest cooling the attitude, because she’s not in a good mood either. Noah was sick and kept her up all night.”

“Lovely.”

And then, by some sick twist of fate, you walk through the door, and Rafael’s stomach turns. Never did you look so gorgeous, so beautiful, so fucking untouchable than you did now. It’s the first time in weeks he’s seen you in a blazer and slacks, the first time he’s seen you look like you gave a shit in months. And maybe that’s unfair - you were struggling, per your own admission - but it almost feels like all you had to do was lose the weight of Rafael and all his baggage that came with being in a relationship with him, and you were good as new.

He wonders how many of his exes could tell a similar story to yours, if that were truly the case.

You meet his eyes for a split second and he wants to drop dead. You give him a haughty smirk and head over to Amanda’s desk, turning your back to him.

Why couldn’t you just fucking leave like you’d said you would? It’d be so much easier if you did just go back home but like everything else that came out of your mouth that was merely a half baked promise you had no intention of making good on.

And maybe Rafael should’ve called you this weekend, but he couldn’t swallow his pride and come back to you with his tail between his legs after you rejected the proposal he’d worked all his life to be able to give. You never called him either, but if this was going to go anywhere, someone would have to talk first.

But shouldn’t it have to be you? You’re the one who asked for space. He’s giving it. What the fuck else was he supposed to do?

But now that you’re not living with him, now that you’re not even with him at all, you’re completely unpredictable. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d come over to him and Sonny, flash him your best sardonic lipglossed smile, and ask to borrow Sonny for a moment.

Rafael can’t even think straight, he can barely breathe, the rage coming up like bile and tightening his throat. How could you stand there and act like nothing was different now?

“Sure,” he snaps.

“Whoa, no need for the attitude, Rafael,” you say sweetly. “We can all play nice, right?”

Rafael doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything… he just shakes his head and walks to Olivia’s office. How could you compartmentalize like that, he’d love to know. Wasn’t this killing you, too?

The rest of the day proves to go by smoother, thankfully, albeit minor annoyances that come up like a snippy altercation with Olivia due to both of their bad moods and a taxi driver haggling him about the fare. Rafael still cannot wait to come back to his office and savor his fourth cup of coffee today after running around the city all morning, put his feet up and do some paperwork…

But you’re there, in his chair, with your feet up on his desk.

“Get out,” Rafael says before you can utter a word.

“I want to talk,” you say innocently.

“I don’t. Get out. Who the hell let you in here?”

“Carmen, duh. She still thinks we’re together, apparently.”

“Do I have to call security?”

You stare at him blankly. “You’d really call security?”

Rafael rolls his eyes, throws his briefcase on a nearby chair. “What the hell do you want?”

“Where do we go from here?”

“Nowhere. You ended it.”

“Okay, no, I just said I needed space. I didn’t end it--”

“Right. I need to work.”

“Okay. We’ll meet later then,” you nod, standing up.

“I didn’t agree--”

“I’ll be back in a few hours. I got to head back to the precinct in fifteen minutes anyway.”

Rafael hates doing this, showing a moment of vulnerability, but he has to ask, “Are you staying? In New York, I mean.”

“For now,” you say, softening too. “Obviously. I talked to Liv for a long time, talked to my dad.. And… I don’t know if being back home is the best course for me either. I’m just trying to get back to some semblance of normal, you know?”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you,” you say, walking past him and leaving his office.

How many years would it be before he did figure you out?

------

The two of you don’t really talk much at first when you reunite later on that evening. Rafael draws the shades in his office, and it’s all pulling at clothes, at skin, at hair and you’re not proud of it but you also don’t really regret that you let it get that far. You missed him, in an annoyingly cloying way, and what was better than makeup sex when the two of you were still pissed off at each other?

“You need…. You need to go to therapy,” Rafael pants after coming down from his high.

You have to laugh at that. Maybe that was only the 7th most offensive thing someone had said to you after sex. And, annoyingly, he was right, even if his delivery and timing could’ve been light years better.

“Mm. I know,” you tell him, pulling him in to kiss him again, his sweaty chest sticking to your back as you pull off him to lay, or rather squeeze next to him on the couch.

“You need to--”

“Let’s not get into the shit I need to do right now, okay? I know I have things to sort out. So do you.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I’m trying to help, and I’m trying to understand, but--”

“Right now… don’t. Just fuck me like that again.”

Rafael chuckles - damn, it was only two days and you missed his laugh that much? It just tugs on your heartstrings in the worst way, but you suppose it proves how much you love him, how you couldn’t just put this down. You hated being the first to let your guard down, to bring yourself to his office not once but twice… but you couldn’t bear to lose him, either, and you’d hurt him where no one else had. It had to be you who offered a new start.

“I need to eat, mujer. And as tempting as that sounds… we need a change in location anyway.”

You nod in assent. “Fine.”

Neither of you get much sleep that night, as you split a bottle of wine and a pizza and talk, cry, fuck, whatever… but it’s a long sleepless night you wouldn’t have traded for the world. Things are different between you two, naturally, but something has to be shed to grow, and maybe you left some good things behind along with the bad things, but it’s how these things go. You can’t expect a relationship to be standing firm after a rejected proposal. For the moment, you’re just happy the two of you found a way to get back up.

As you curl into Rafael’s arms at four in the morning, you don’t feel at peace - lord knows you still have so many things to worry about - but you do feel better, and if that’s all you can get right now, you had to be okay with that.

Taglist (ask if you wanted to be added!) @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @thatesqcrush @law-nerd105 @blackeyedangel9805 @moon-river-drifter @the-baby-bookworm @dianilaws @xecq @lv7867 @teddybluesclues @averyhotchner @houseofthirst @stardust-fray

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #barba x reader #barba #Law & Order SVU #SVU fanfiction #rafael barba x you #barba x you

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frobster · 4 years

Text

Offer of a Lifetime: Chapter 2

Both chapters now up on ao3!

☆☆☆

Peter stayed where he was for a moment, shocked by what had just happened, before his phone buzzed again and brought him back to himself. He looked down at the number of missed messages and quickly read through them, MJ becoming increasingly frantic when Peter didn’t immediately answer.

> Peter: So, James was just in my apartment

> Peter: Also, he told me to call him Bucky

The buzzing started again before Peter could even lock his phone. He ignored it as he went around getting dressed, pulling on underwear and sweatpants before checking again.

> MJ: PETER WHAT THE FUCK

> Ned: BRO ARE YOU OKAY???

> Peter: I’m fine. He left. Gave me a week to think about his offer. Also said he would leave me alone completely if I turned him down

> MJ: And u believed him???????????

> Peter: He didn’t give me a reason not to. There weren't any threats, and he did wait wait a whole day before contacting me

> Ned: Sugar daddy already getting to you smh

> Peter: Come on, you know it would be amazing to have a sugar daddy

> MJ: Ya but this one could put u in a lot of danger

Peter bit his lip as he thought. MJ was right. While it was his dream to be a kept boy and never have to worry about anything, he wasn’t sure if it was worth the dangers associated with Bucky. He would definitely need the whole week to think.

> MJ: We’re gonna talk more tonight. I’ll see u at 7:45

> Peter: Sounds good

Bucky was at the forefront of Peter’s mind for the rest of the day. He didn’t really have anything to do until the evening, so he lounged around much like the previous day and tried to find more on the internet about Bucky.

“Where did that name even come from?” Peter muttered to himself as he clicked on yet another tabloid article. The gossip papers had a lot to speculate about him since they loved to lie about crime and drama. He mostly skimmed the articles since they all seemed to be sensationalized and mostly rumors.

One thing that stood out to Peter was the consistent inclusion of a broad blonde man almost always on Bucky’s right. The few pictures that weren’t blurry or grainy made the man seem relatively attractive, and Peter had to wonder if he was a past fling or just a confidante. Bucky obviously liked men, given his interest in Peter, but that still didn’t confirm anything.

The day oozed by in a cloud of laziness - naps, articles, snacks. Peter didn’t leave the couch except to get a snack or use the bathroom. By the time 6pm rolled around, Peter finally got up to start getting ready. He never took too long, but he didn’t want to rush either. The weather was still decent, so he decided on a pair of shorts that would help show off his legs and a mesh tank top that wouldn’t really cover anything. Beneath the shorts, he had red panties. Even if it led to him getting misgendered more often, the panties did help him get more money out of clients.

Peter ran his hands through his hair to make it fluffy and messy, swiped some gloss over his lips before tucking the tube into his bag, then looked at his measly pile of shoes. There weren’t many to choose from and most of them were bought purely for style rather than function. He ended up going back to his room to grab a pair of knee-high socks before sliding on a pair of black high-top sneakers. People still liked scene twinks, right? The socks would help keep his legs warm too once the sun went down and the air got cooler.

Picking his outfit didn’t take very long, so Peter was left with almost an hour until he had to leave. Then he remembered that Ned and MJ went grocery shopping for him, so he took a tour of his own kitchen to see what they got for him. Most of it was canned goods so it wouldn’t go to waste if he didn’t eat it quickly, but there were some fresher foods too like prepackaged salads and frozen chicken.

Settling on the chicken and a salad, Peter hauled out the bag of chicken tenders to check the required oven temperature. He got the oven set and preheating before wandering back to his couch and flopping over the back of it. Upon checking his phone, he finally saw the few messages from Bucky that he missed while showering.

> I’m coming to visit soon. Try to look presentable.

Sent almost as soon as Peter stepped into the shower. He grimaced at the bad timing and scrolled down to read the rest, sent after Bucky had left.

> Obviously you did not see my message beforehand, as I assume a towel around your waist and a bare chest is not what you would typically consider “presentable”.

> You have until next Wednesday to make your decision. If you do not give me an answer before then, I will assume you’re uninterested and leave you alone, like I promised.

Peter sighed and reread the messages a few times. Then he saved Bucky’s contact number before taking another screenshot to send to his friends.

> Peter: See? I told you he would leave me alone if I turned him down

> MJ: I guess he may not be such a terrible person…

> Ned: He literally runs the New York mafia

> MJ: Yeah, but he knows how to treat a boy right

> Peter: I’m feeling heart emojis. Should I change his name in my phone to Daddy?

> Ned: NO!!!!!!!

> MJ: skjghalfaldfk YES

> Ned: Do NOT encourage him!!

Peter laughed to himself and quickly changed Bucky’s contact name to ‘Daddy’ followed by pink and purple heart emojis. Then he took another screenshot of the saved contact and sent it to the chat.

> MJ: I expect updates every time he texts you. We have to decide if he’s good enough for our baby

> Ned: I will not approve of Peter being the kept boy of the HEAD OF THE NEW YORK MAFIA

> Peter: Aw dad, you’re no fun

> Ned: Don’t make me ground you

> MJ: Not allowed, Peter and I have work tonight

> MJ: Maybe daddy will bring us some coffee

> Peter: Hey! Only I am allowed to call him daddy

> MJ: Aw, possessive already? ;)

> Peter: ...maybe

> Ned: I’m doomed. We’re all doomed

Their casual, friendly conversation continued for a while until Ned had to put his phone away for class. Peter and MJ switched to single texting as they talked about their plans for that night. She had got them a new corner a few blocks away from where Bucky had picked Peter up, but they both knew that Bucky could find them again if he really wanted to.

The oven soon beeped so Peter got up to put a couple chicken tenders on a pan and into the oven. He set a timer on his phone then looked around his apartment as he tried to figure out what to do to pass the time.

But rather than finding something to do, Peter just realized how shitty his apartment really was. The walls were thin and dirty, there was a crack spiderwebbing up the wall in a corner, the floors were stained and worn out from countless tenants. He sighed and slumped against the kitchen counter, a cheap laminated wood that creaked even under his slight weight. There were multiple different bug problems through the building - cockroaches, ants, spiders, wasps. He had a roach problem in his own apartment, leading to all food in the cabinets needing to be canned so they couldn't chew into it.

It was exhausting to live in poverty. Peter hated his apartment but it was all he could really afford. The life insurance policy from his aunt was used to pay off his surgery bills and the rest was funneled to any other medical costs that came up, including his hormone prescription. While he did have some money in savings, it would not be enough to allow him to live somewhere better. He was losing money faster than he made it back.

Bucky’s offer was slowly becoming more and more attractive.

When the timer went off on his phone, Peter swiped it away before carefully taking out the tray of chicken. He set it on the stove to let it cool while he took out the prepared salad bag and set to mixing everything together. Then, since he didn’t feel like using multiple dishes, he cut up the chicken on the baking pan and scraped the pieces into the salad bowl.

“Yeah, I can provide for myself,” Peter said to himself before taking a bite.

The salad was filling and Peter actually felt like he had a decent amount of energy. He took the time to wash all the dishes he used rather than trying to jam them into the dishwasher, brushed his teeth, reapplied his lip gloss, then checked the time.

MJ had sent a few more messages with details of their shift that night, and Ned announced the end of his class and the offer of searching Bucky more. Peter bit his lip as he considered it. If he was going to really give Bucky’s offer some serious consideration, he felt he needed to know the man better. Or he could just text Bucky.

Before he could chicken out, Peter sent a quick text to Bucky and pocketed his phone so he could finalize his outfit and wait for MJ.

> Peter: If you want me to live with you, I’m gonna need to know more about you.

There wasn’t any reply before MJ arrived. Peter sighed as he looked at his lack of notifications before he tucked his phone away, grabbed his bag, and headed out to meet MJ.

There was some tension in the car as a lackey drove Peter and MJ to their new corner. The random guy was humming along to music on the radio while the other two held hands in the back of the car. He didn’t say anything as he stopped at a new corner and unlocked the door, a clear signal for them to get out.

Peter stepped out with his mini backpack shouldered and fixed his shorts once he was standing. MJ followed him out and fixed her skirt too, her own bag slung across her chest and accenting her cleavage. Another reason why MJ was slightly better off than Peter was her assets. People just tended to want her more often than him. He wasn’t upset about that, he knew his friend was gorgeous and she deserved the attention and money. He just couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of her slightly better financial state.

“Did Bucky say anything else?” MJ asked as the car drove off.

“Nope. I don’t really know what he would say,” Peter replied, hyper-aware of his phone in his pocket. He couldn’t remember if it had buzzed while they were in the car since his mind was wandering. Already, just one day after meeting the man, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky.

8pm wasn’t very late, the bars were just starting to fill up. Peter and MJ had time to talk before people would start showing interest in them. The sunset was nice to watch and offered a serene backdrop to the chaos of their lives, purples and reds blending together like the mundane and unusual of the past few days.

“I would think that he would try to sweeten the deal somehow, y’know? You’ve clearly been hesitant about accepting his offer, so wouldn’t he want to tempt you?” MJ looked at her nails and flicked a speck of invisible dust off the shiny finish, then winked at someone who was looking at her as they stepped into the nearby bar.

“I dunno how much sweeter the deal could get. He offered to pay for everything for the rest of my life, or leave me alone without any trouble. It’s a win-win situation.” Even to his own ears, Peter knew it sounded lame. He was so tempted to accept Bucky’s offer, and MJ could clearly hear that in his voice.

“You deserve to know more about him at least. Even Ned had a hard time finding anything on this guy. And now that we know he’s got some dangerous connections, it would be in your best interest to find out everything you can before making a decision, especially since you’re tempted to agree.” Peter MJ would’ve been an excellent counselor. Maybe she still could be. If they ever found themselves in a position to start saving up money, she could put it towards college classes.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just not-” Peter cut off when he felt his phone vibrate against his ass. He reached into his back pocket to pull it out and blinked as he read the message.

> Bucky: We could discuss that over dinner, if you’d like. I know you’re working, but I could talk to your boss and have him pardon you for the night.

Before Peter could reply to the text or finish what he was saying, MJ snatched his phone away to read the message.

“Hey! Give that back!” Peter squawked as he tried to grab his phone back.

But MJ was taller than him even without the heels she was wearing, so she just held the phone up and angled it down so she could read the screen. She laughed aloud when she read the message and finally lowered her hand again so Peter could have his phone back. He huffed as he stuffed it into his pocket again without bothering to answer.

“It’s cute that he’s already offering to cover your shifts for you. Maybe he’ll even give you some cash to make up for missing a whole night,” MJ teased with a grin. Peter felt too flustered to really register that she seemed to be encouraging him to leave with Bucky.

“There is nothing cute about this situation,” Peter huffed, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He wasn’t really sure what he was embarrassed about. Maybe he didn’t realize how tempted he was to accept Bucky’s offer until MJ gave him that little nudge.

“Well, you’re pretty cute. It’s cute how often you blush when we talk about him.” MJ’s tone was more genuine that time, and Peter felt a little surprised.

“Did Ned tell you something else about this guy? Why do you seem so supportive of him now?” There was another buzz in Peter’s pocket but he ignored it, wanting to hear MJ’s answer first.

“You deserve a good life, Peter.” She looked at him, entirely serious, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been through so much and you’re only nineteen. I want you to be happy, to have opportunities that we could never find in this line of work.”

“MJ…”

Before Peter could say more, his phone started buzzing like he had a call. He sighed and reached into his pocket, making a brief note that it was Bucky calling before he answered.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t answer my text, Peter. So I called your boss anyway. I’m coming to pick you up. Would MJ like to join us for dinner?”

Peter just squeaked, his jaw dropped open as he tried to think of what to say. MJ rolled her eyes and snatched the phone away again so she could talk for him.

“Hi, Bucky. Peter would love to go to dinner with you, but he seems to have forgotten how to speak.” She snickered at whatever Bucky said, Peter watching with wide eyes as she spoke with him so casually. “Aw, thank you! I would love to join you for dinner. If you intend to steal my boy away, I have to see if you’re worth his time.”

“MJ!” Peter finally came back to his senses and made a grab for his phone, but she held him back just like before.

“Yeah, that was him. He’s just so excited to see you again. We’ll be waiting for you!” MJ hung up the phone before handing it back to Peter with a grin. “He will be here in about fifteen minutes so zip up your hoodie and try to not look like such a whore.”

Peter swatted at MJ’s arm, making her cackle loudly as she pulled a balled-up shawl out of her bag to wrap around her shoulders and cover up her chest. She tended to wear shirts that showed off her cleavage but now that she wasn’t actively trying to attract customers, she wanted to look more modest. Peter had a sleeveless hoodie that he zipped over his mesh tank top, though he started to feel overheated after just a few minutes.

The hoodie got unzipped again as Peter rocked restlessly in place, anxious and eager to see Bucky again. MJ was updating Ned since Peter was too scared to look at his phone, snickering to herself every now and then.

Soon enough, a sleek black car pulled up. The windows were so heavily tinted that they looked black, but neither of them had to guess at who was inside. MJ tucked her phone away and Peter stepped closer to her, seeking out her familiar comfort as his nerves spiked.

The back window rolled down and a familiar face was revealed. Bucky looked at them both before nodding and pushing the door open.

“Come on, we got reservations in twenty minutes,” he said as he shifted to a seat on the other side of the car.

MJ stepped in first then tugged Peter in with her. She sat across from Bucky and not-so-subtly nudged Peter over to sit next to him. The seats were smooth and cool, and Peter was thankful for the air conditioning that let him zip up his hoodie again to hide his chest. Bucky had already seen him shirtless, but he felt awkward about it now.

The car pulled away from the curb as soon as the door was closed. Peter didn’t have a chance to buckle in so he swayed and ended up leaning into Bucky for a moment. He blushed and scooted away so he could clip his seat belt, then sat quietly and picked at the hem of his socks.

“So,” MJ started casually. “You’re who Peter has a crush on.”

“I do not!” Peter insisted, head snapping up so he could glare at MJ. She just grinned at him as Bucky made an amused sound.

“A crush, huh? That’s cute.” Bucky tucked his phone away and looked over to Peter with a smirk. “Have you given my offer any more thought?”

“It’s been like, six hours,” Peter pointed out, feeling a little more confident with MJ there to back him up.

“Plenty of time to think.” Bucky was watching Peter, eyes glued to him as he waited for a proper answer.

“I mean…” Peter sighed and slumped back against his seat. He did want to say yes, to agree and let Bucky carry him off into the sunset like some perfect romantic dream. It just didn’t feel real.

“We need some proof that you’re the real deal,” MJ finally said.

Bucky’s gaze flicked over to her as he raised an eyebrow. He clearly wasn’t someone who was used to being challenged like that, and for a moment, Peter feared for MJ. But then Bucky laughed and Peter’s heart skipped a beat at the sound.

“Conveniently enough, that is why I invited you along tonight. It’s good to know Peter has a friend looking out for him.”

“Two friends,” MJ corrected. “Ned has been diligently mining through the internet for information about you. He is the only reason why I agreed to dinner.”

Peter huffed as a faint blush dusted his cheeks. MJ was acting like her and Ned were his parents, and he was feeling a little embarrassed about that. Sure, he was the youngest out of the three of them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle himself.

“Two friends,” Bucky amended. Then his gaze turned back to Peter and he reached over to gently rub the boy’s back. “You can relax, Peter. I promise my intentions with you are honorable.”

“And what exactly are your intentions?” Peter looked up again, finally meeting Bucky’s eyes.

There was a moment of hesitation and even MJ could feel the electricity hanging between Bucky and Peter.

“I want to take care of you the way you deserve. To spoil you, pamper you, give you anything you could ever want or need.” Bucky sounded honest and there was no nervous tic that would clue Peter in to a lie. But he still couldn’t believe it.

“Why?”

Another pause. Bucky looked torn between brushing it off and turning to a new subject, coming up with some flowery words that didn’t really answer the question, or actually telling the truth. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, and decided on the last.

“You are beautiful. Handsome, gorgeous. Whatever term you’re most comfortable with. You are like a work of art, and I don’t want to see you waste away in the streets. You deserve so much more and what am I gonna do with all this money anyway? Hell, you could turn me down here and now and I would still send you money every week. I just want you to be happy.”

Peter blinked. He hadn’t expected such an emotional answer, but he felt touched by it. A quick glance over to MJ showed that she felt affected by it too, her eyes wide in surprise. For all the research the three of them had done, they never would’ve thought Bucky was the sentimental sort of guy.

“Oh.” Peter’s voice was faint as he tried to process all that Bucky said.

Bucky swore under his breath and leaned back in his seat. He had moved closer to Peter as he spoke, but now he felt he should give the younger man some space. But to everyone’s surprise, Peter reached out and set a hand on Bucky’s knee before managing a smile.

“I appreciate that, Bucky. I really do. Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence before Bucky cleared his throat and nodded. He gave Peter a tight smile, seeming a little less confident than when they first got in the car. Then the car stopped before anyone could say anything else and Bucky looked away to the window beside him.

“Ah, looks like we’re here. Don’t worry, it isn’t anywhere too fancy. I figured you two wouldn’t really be dressed for that.”

Bucky’s confidence seemed to slowly come back as he smirked and got out of the car. Then he held out a hand for MJ, and reached out again for Peter once she was standing. But unlike with MJ, Bucky didn’t let go of Peter’s hand. And Peter didn’t really mind.

☆☆☆

#winterspider #peter parker #Bucky barnes #bucky/peter #mcu #marvel fic #offer of a lifetime #my writing #hello. this was written weeks ago and i only just now posted it #oops

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just-my-sickly-pride · 5 years

Text

Deep End || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || a week ago, roger asked you to be his friends-with-benefits. you invite him over to tell him your decision. things escalate, of course. modern day au. college au.

rating || explicit (18+). do not read if you are under eighteen. sub!roger, soft dom!reader, orgasm denial.

word count || 6.8k.

author’s notes || and here’s the next instalment in the try series! this one is set after ‘ask nicely’. i know, a lot of roger, but there’s more brian on its way too. if you haven’t read any other parts, it’s fine, this can be read on its own, if you don’t mind being a lil confused about certain details and conversations. there is mentioning of brian x reader. and i finally remembered to add on my tag list!

tag list || @drowseoftaylor @mrs-jack-murphy @bellas2silly @delilahmay39

masterlist

It had been one week since Roger’s drunken confession that he wanted a friends-with-benefits arrangement with you. It had been five days since he’d pulled you aside one day at uni and apologised for how he’d gone about it, then asked you again if you’d be interested, far more sheepishly than the first time.

You’d told him you had to think about it some more, and he’d accepted it.

And you’d been thinking about it a lot. More than you should have been, considering how uni was kicking your butt well and truly recently.

You wanted to talk about it with Veronica, but then it’d become a whole thing, and you didn’t really want her to know. Same with Freddie and John.

But maybe there was one person you could talk about it with.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you asked Brian as the two of you walked to your lecture. You didn’t look at him, just kept staring straight ahead.

“Always,” Brian said.

“It’s about Roger.”

“What about him?”

You took a breath. “Um.” You hesitated, and then guided Brian out of the main traffic, off to the side. “Do you remember, last week, that party we went to?” you asked him a low voice.

Brian nodded, leaning in closer to hear you better. “Mm.”

“And Roger was drunk off his face?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he told he that he… he wanted to do a friends-with-benefits thing with me. Same as I have with you.”

Brian snorted. “Course he did.”

You frowned. “What’s that meant to mean?”

“I just mean, of course he’d want the chance to sleep with you all the time. Can’t exactly blame him. You had me hook, line, and sinker after just making out with me one time.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide your smile, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Well, um, he brought it up with me again a couple days ago. I just don’t know what to do.”

“What?” Brian said, screwing up his nose. “Say no. Roger can sleep with whoever he wants.”

“But maybe I want it, too.”

“Well, do you?”

You sighed. “I don’t know.”

Brian cocked his head to the side. “That doesn’t sound all too enthusiastic.”

“Like, I’d want to sleep with him again,” you said. “And again again. And again again again. And–”

“Fuck, all right,” Brian cut in. “I get it, you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” you said. “But I just don’t know if – y’know, he could handle it without getting… emotionally involved.”

“I don’t think that’d be an issue for him,” Brian said wryly. “He seems fine with sleeping around.”

“But sleeping with one person multiple times?”

Brian hesitated. “Look, if I can do it, of all people, he can surely do it. And if you make the rules nice and clear, I’m sure it’ll be fine. If you really want to go for it, then go for it. Just as long as I still get you, too.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Yes, you’ll still get me. Dick.”

Brian laughed. The two of you resumed walking to class.

“Why don’t you go fuck someone else for a change, huh?” you said, nudging him with your elbow. “Maybe take a nice girl out to the movies? Finger her in the back row of the cinema?”

“Eugh,” Brian said. “No. I don’t know why on Earth anyone would have sex at the cinema. It’s way too weird for me.”

You sniggered. “Of all the things that are too weird for you, Brian.”

“I don’t care. I’m not fingering anyone at the cinema,” he said pointedly.

“I wasn’t saying I wanted you to finger me at the cinema.”

“I know.” Brian gave you an elfish grin. “The back row of the lecture hall, though…”

You scoffed. “In your dreams.”

“I have dreamt about it, yes.”

“No fucking at uni, remember? A solid ‘Nickleback’ on fingering in class, thanks.”

Brian made a disappointed face.

You clicked your tongue at him, rolling your eyes, and he laughed.

can we talk? come to mine this afternoon.

It took almost an hour for Roger to reply.

I finish at 3, see u then.

“Roger’s coming over just after three,” you said to your roommate Lucy as she picked at her leftover curry.

“That’s fine,” she said, moving the chicken around with her fork. “I’ll be heading out around four, maybe a little earlier. I’m meeting the girls for a catch-up.”

“Sounds fun,” you said with a smile. The kettle finished boiling, and you poured your tea. “Will you be out late?”

Lucy shook her head. “We’re just doing afternoon tea. Be home before dinner.”

“Great,” you said.

Lucy shot you a smile, shoved a mouthful of curry into her mouth, and disappeared out of the kitchen.

“I brought snacks,” Roger said, holding out a packet of corn chips and salsa when you opened the door at twenty past three.

“Hello,” you said, and took the snacks. “Thanks, you didn’t have to.”

“It was on the way.”

You stepped aside, and Roger entered. He stood in the living room as if he’d never been there before, gripping the shoulder strap of his messenger bag with both hands, watching you with wide eyes.

“You look like you’re about to head off to your first day of school,” you said with a chuckle. “Go sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

Roger did as he was told, taking off his bag and setting it down at his feet, sitting down on the couch. You sat down beside him, opening up the chips and dip and taking a bite.

Roger did not take a bite. “What did you want to talk about?”

“The–” You made sure to finish your mouthful. “The thing. That we talked about a few days ago.”

Roger nodded. He’d known, clearly. “Is, er, Lucy still here?”

“Mm, she’s in her room,” you said.

Roger seemed to deflate. “Oh. Yeah, cool.”

You didn’t miss it. “What?”

He looked at you in confusion. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Roger said. “I completely understand. It’s totally fine, I won’t bring it up again. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Huh?”

“The…” Roger dropped his voice to a whisper. “The friends-with-benefits thing. It’s all right.”

You shook your head. “No, Rog, I’m here to tell you that I want to try it.”

Roger stopped. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Uh, what?”

“I wanna have sex with you,” you said. “On a semi-regular basis.”

Roger’s eyes lit up. “You do?”

“Yeah, dude.”

“I just thought – with Lucy here…”

“I don’t wanna have sex now,” you said with a snort. “It doesn’t have to, y’know, kick off with a bang or anything. There’s a bit to talk about first.”

“Like what?”

So you laid out the rules. The check-ins were the main thing. Honesty and complete emotional transparency was of utmost importance, no matter how awkward and horribly vulnerable it was. You couldn’t back out of a check-in – either person could ask for one at any time, and a response was required from both people. No fucking at uni, no getting romantic, no dates. The whole thing could be called off whenever by either party, no questions asked. Sleeping with other people was on the cards. If someone started getting romantically involved with a person outside of the arrangement, then the arrangement was off.

Roger listened intently, nodding. You could see it dawning on him how serious you were about all the rules you were listing, but if it scared him off, you didn’t care.

When you eventually finished, you said to him, “That’s about it. Is there anything you wanted to ask me?”

Roger blinked. “Uh. No, I don’t think so. Apart from, uh, how often do you wanna… meet up?”

You shrugged. “We can feel it out. When are you free?”

“Whenever,” Roger said, and the word fell out of his mouth like it had tripped and stumbled.

You grinned. “Bit eager.”

Roger’s cheeks went pink. “I meant, like, y’know.” He shrugged. “Whenever. I’m chill.”

“No, it’s sweet,” you said reassuringly. “What about on Friday night? Although you probably have plans, knowing you.”

“Not really,” Roger said. “I usually just go out with the boys, but it’s not important. I’d much prefer…” He ducked his gaze, and laughed at himself. He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe–” He shook his head, and sighed, lifted his head, and stared you right in the eye. “I don’t know how you turn me into a mess like this. Fuck you.”

You laughed. “I’m not trying to, I promise.”

“I know. That makes it even worse.” He scoffed. “‘Sweet’. I’m not sweet. I’m hot as fuck. I’m – I’m fuckin’…” He floundered. “I’m hot shit. I’m a bad – bitch.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re a bad bitch?”

“Yeah!” Roger exclaimed, doubling down. “All the women fuckin’ fall at my feet. I’m so good at chatting people up. Two minutes – bam! That’s all it takes.”

“God, Rog, stop,” you said, trying to catch your breath. “Ah, my stomach hurts.”

“Tell me I’m wrong, though.”

“You’re wrong.”

Roger gaped. “You – I’m not!”

You gave him a bewildered look. “I can’t even tell if you’re joking or not.”

“First time I got a girl to call me Daddy and I nailed it,” Roger boasted. “You were begging for me.”

You shushed him, slapping him on the arm.

“Ow,” he said in a small voice.

“Lucy’s in her room,” you reminded him in a hiss.

“Sorry,” Roger said, rubbing his arm to soothe it.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have hit you, I wasn’t thinking,” you said, and kissed your fingers, then lightly pressed your fingers to where you’d hit him.

He pouted. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to go to my room?” you suggested. “I think Lucy’s leaving soon, she’s heading out.”

Roger checked his phone. “Yeah, all right,” he said, “I can stay for a bit.”

You should’ve known. You didn’t know how it hadn’t occurred to you what would end up happening, but it hadn’t.

You and Roger lasted about ten whole minutes alone in your room before you were making out on your bed.

His kisses were just as gentle as the first time, but you allowed yourself to enjoy it, not eager to rush into anything else, happy to just stay mildly turned on. You noticed his fingers would occasionally drum out a rhythm on your hip or your thigh as you kissed, his mind disappearing somewhere else before he brought it back. You liked it, liked being able to know what he was thinking, where his mind was.

Your top ended up on the floor before too long, beside Roger’s, and you straddled Roger’s waist. His hands felt heavenly smoothing up your back, and you shivered. He kissed your throat and your collarbones, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of it, combing your hand through his hair absentmindedly.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” Roger murmured against your skin. After almost twenty minutes of silence between you two, his voice almost made you jump.

You smiled. “Can’t believe it? Why not?”

Roger pressed another kiss to the hollow of your throat, and then leant back, tilting his head up to look at you, and you met his eyes. “I mean, it was a big ask,” he said. “You didn’t have to say yes. I imagine the whole thing with Brian keeps you busy enough.”

“I said yes because I wanted to,” you said. “Because you made me feel really good, and I want to explore more with you. And I trust you.”

“And I’m a bad bitch you couldn’t resist?”

You giggled. “No. You are hot as fuck, I’ll give you that, but you are not a bad bitch by any stretch of the imagination.”

“You’re so cruel.”

You laughed again.

Lucy’s bedroom door opened, and your head snapped towards the noise.

“What?” Roger whispered.

“I think Lucy’s leaving,” you murmured. You heard keys jangling, then the front door opening, and closing again.

You waited a few seconds longer to see if she came back in again, if she’d forgotten something, but it seemed like you were in the clear.

“Thank Christ,” you sighed, and took Roger’s face in your hands, kissing him fiercely.

Roger’s fingers tightened on your waist, and he kissed you back, but when you pulled away for a moment he said, “What?”

“Lucy’s gone,” you said. “I know I said we weren’t going to fuck today, but you’re really good at making out.”

“I – I need to check the time,” Roger said regretfully, and disappointment sank in your stomach.

“Oh, right, yeah, sorry,” you said, and climbed off him.

You sat on your bed, chewing your lip, as Roger bobbed down to fish his phone out of his backpack. You let your eyes trail over his body, over his bare torso and jean-clad legs. He had a nice bum, small and perky, which suited his personality, really. You wanted to lean over and give it a smack, just to see how he’d react. Maybe not just yet.

He had a really nice back, you thought. He was a drummer, and you could tell in the way the muscles moved under the skin of his back, the roundness of his shoulders, the strength in his arms. His stomach was soft – he was fit enough, but he clearly wasn’t interested in putting in the time to get abs.

You didn’t care. You liked it.

He raked his hair away from his face as he typed a response to a message. It was getting shaggy, falling in his face half the time. You liked that, too.

He dropped his phone and stood up, turning towards you. “I think I can stay for a bit longer.”

“Lucky me,” you said, reaching for him. He crawled over to you, and kissed you.

You shoved a hand through his hair, roughly, feeling how long it was getting, and gave it a sharp tug. Roger made a soft sound, and you felt him melt against you.

You pushed him onto his back and held yourself above him. “You like getting your hair pulled?” you asked with a grin. You reached underneath his head and tugged it again.

Roger gasped. “Mm, yeah, might do a bit,” he said breathlessly.

You chuckled, and kissed him again. You pulled his hair, harder than before, and he twitched.

You broke apart. “Sorry, too hard?”

Roger whimpered slightly, and shook his head.

Your eyebrows shot up. “No? I pulled pretty hard.”

“You can pull harder.”

So you did. You pulled, snapping his head back, and you held him there, watching his eyes go wide, and he whined. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You finally let him go, and he was gasping for breath. “You can keep going,” he said. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You shook your head disbelievingly. “Greedy.” You kissed him deeply, making a tight fist in his hair, just hard enough to tease him, and you could tell how needy he was starting to get by the way he gripped your hips.

You kissed along his jaw.

“More,” he said. “You can give me more.”

“I’ll give you more when I feel like it,” you said casually.

He made a sound in protest, and it was then it clicked that the previous roles you’d adopted last time you’d slept together were quickly reversing.

You let his hair go, and he whined. Your stomach clenched. Fuck, that was a good sound. You wanted to hear more of it.

You sat up, on his waist. “Rog?”

He looked up at you. “Mm?”

“I think today’s gonna be different from last time.”

He nodded. “I think so too.”

“What do you wanna do? Where do you see it going?”

He looked away, flustered. “We don’t have to… talk about it.”

“I just want to make sure.” You paused. “I think… I’m gonna be in charge today. How’s that sound?”

Roger looked back to you, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. He nodded. “Yeah, I – I like that. I’d like that.”

“And,” you continued, shimmying down Roger’s legs to go for his belt, “you’re going to do as you’re told. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and then he flushed scarlet. “Sorry. I mean, um, yes.”

“No, it’s okay, you can call me that, if you’d like to,” you said. You finished unbuckling his belt, and undid his jeans, unzipping the fly. “I’m all right with that. Do you wanna call me that?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Sounds like you’re gonna be a real good boy for me, huh?”

“Maybe.”

You paused, blinking at him. “Oh? Maybe?”

Roger grinned cheekily. “Maybe.”

“Maybe who?”

“Maybe, ma’am.”

“Hm,” you said in thought. You climbed off him. “Jeans off.”

He took them off.

“Lie down.”

He did.

You stood up, and took your jeans off, slowly, unhurried. If you made a bit of a show of it, arching your back a little and sliding the jeans down your thighs, that was your business.

When you looked back to Roger, he was practically drooling where he lay, his eyes fixated on you with laser focus.

“You good?” you joked, tossing your jeans aside.

“Oh yeah,” Roger said emphatically, nodding, making you laugh. He bit his bottom lip, his eyes sweeping up and down your body. “God, you’re fucking hot.”

You glanced down at yourself instinctively. You were just wearing your everyday bra, a comfy pair of underwear. Nothing as racy as what you’d worn the first time you and Roger had slept together.

Roger clearly didn’t care.

You tried not to preen from the compliment. Yeah, you knew you were hot. But a reminder was always nice.

You climbed back on the bed, settling on your knees on top of Roger’s hips, grinding yourself a little against him, making his eyelashes flutter, his hands gripping your thighs.

You smiled, cocking your head to one side, thinking. “Hm,” you said. “What to do with you?”

Roger just waited patiently, his face open, his breath coming in short bursts.

You leant down and brushed your lips against his, just barely, and he chased the kiss, whining softly. You smiled, and instead started kissing his neck. His hands stroked up and down your back, lightly, and you began grinding against him a little more. The friction felt so good, the drag of your underwear on your clit, that you sat up again to find a better angle, grinding harder. Roger gasped, and you could feel him rapidly hardening underneath you, but you ignored it, ignored him, focused only on finding a rhythm that made you feel warm, made your blood feel electric.

You were breathing heavily, your head bowed, bracing yourself on Roger’s chest, and Roger was squirming.

“Ma’am,” he pleaded, his hands coming to your waist to try to still you. “Please, I can’t–”

You grabbed his wrists and pinned them beside his head, and rolled your hips, hard and slow, making him whine.

“What’s the matter, Rog?” you asked, a touch breathlessly. “You don’t like that I’m not giving you attention?”

Roger struggled against your hold on him. “I–”

“I was enjoying myself, Roger. I don’t like that you interrupted me.”

Roger stopped struggling.

You kissed him, hard, and then broke away to whisper in his ear, “You’re going to watch me for a bit, okay? Just watching.” Just for a bit. Some light teasing, then you’d let him touch you.

You pushed yourself away from him, climbing off him, leaving him cold. He looked at you like you’d just kicked his pet dog. “No!”

“Sit up,” you said. “Move back.”

“Let me eat you out,” Roger pleaded, but doing as he was told, getting up and shifting back, sitting back on his heels. “I want to, please? Let me taste you. I’ll make you come at least twice, I won’t stop until I do. As many times as you want. Please.”

You took off your underwear and bra, settling comfortably, leaning back on one hand, your legs sprawled out in front of you, and Roger made a helpless, desperate sound.

You ran your fingertips over your skin, over the swell of your breasts, over your inner thighs, just teasing yourself, and Roger sobbed, his fists twisting in the sheets.

“Ma’am, please, please, let me touch you, I need to, please.”

“You’re so needy,” you said with a grin.

Roger nodded, all dignity out the window.

You started touching yourself, humming in pleasure at the familiar feeling of your own fingers. “Look at you,” you said, drinking in the sight of Roger, gazing at you hopelessly, pleadingly, his body flushed, his underwear tented, a dark spot staining the material. “So hard for me already.”

Roger palmed at himself, and you said, “Nuh-uh. No touching.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t touch myself,” he protested, stilling his hand on his cock.

“I know,” you said, and your breath caught, your back arching, as you slipped a finger into yourself. “But – but I’m telling you now.”

Roger groaned, but forced his hand back onto the bed. His eyes zeroed in on your hand, and your finger, where it was disappearing inside you.

You sighed, letting your head fall back and your eyes close. “Feels so good, Rog.”

You pushed in a second finger beside the first, pumping them leisurely, every so often taking a break to play with your clit. Roger kept making small noises of desperation, whines and sobs, his breath trembling.

“Maybe I’ll just make myself come like this,” you mused. You lifted your head again to look at Roger. He looked like was about to explode. Or die from the stress of it all. His knuckles were white, his arms and shoulders tensed, his mouth hanging open.

Your hips bucked slightly against your hand. It was a good look on him. Really good.

“What do you think, Rog?” you panted. You could feel yourself getting closer. “What if I just made myself come while you watched, and then sent you home?”

Roger’s eyes snapped to yours. “No, no, no, please, no,” he ground out. “Please, I’ll be so good for you, you can do whatever you want to me, I want you so bad. You look so good, you’re–” He swallowed. “You’re so wet. I – I can hear how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched, your hips jerking again. “You want to feel it for yourself, do you?”

“Yes,” Roger whined. “Please, I – I wanna… I…”

At this point, you had a feeling you were actually going to come on your own fingers. Roger’s voice, his face, his whole body and the way it was coiled like the tightest spring, it was all turning you on so much. So much for ‘light teasing’.

You moaned. “Shit.”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Roger said again. “You can hit me, you can slap me, bite me, I don’t care, make me bleed, I’ll take it, I’ll take it so well, I’ll be so thankful, I’ll be good for you, just use me, anything, I– fuck, you look so good, please, ma’am, please.”

“Fuck, Rog,” you said, unable to believe the filthy things pouring from his mouth.

You were so close, way closer than you thought you would be, and Roger looked almost on the verge of tears.

“Please,” he whined. “Please, I can’t, I need you, I need you.”

That was the final tipping point. You came, gasping, your hips bucking against your hand.

Your fingers circled your clit slowly as you came down from your orgasm. You looked to Roger. He looked broken, staring at your fingers, and you felt your core pulsing with the last few aftershocks.

Roger moaned at the sight.

You jumped when your fingers brushed over your clit, sensitive, and you removed your hand with a sigh.

Roger’s eyes flicked to your hand, your fingers glistening with your juice.

You decided to take pity on him. “Clean me up?” you said, holding out your hand.

He looked to your face, checking to see if you were joking, just being cruel.

“Taste me, Rog,” you said.

Roger couldn’t get over to your fast enough, licking your fingers into his mouth, his hands curling around your wrist. He took your fingers in all the way to the knuckle, groaning at the taste, his tongue dragging over the pads of your fingers.

“Good boy,” you said. He was still shaking, and the dark spot on his underwear had grown considerably since you’d last checked.

You slowly pulled your fingers from his mouth, and he whined, but you only went so far, and then you pushed them in again, and he accepted them gladly. His lips looked wet and pink and gorgeous around your fingers, his whole body warm.

You adjusted, sitting up, your other hand smoothing over his thigh, making him moan, as you continued to lazily fuck his mouth with your fingers. His long eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, his tongue earnestly swirling around your fingers every time you pushed them back into his mouth. He sighed, whimpering, and you licked your lips.

“So well-behaved,” you murmured. “You look so pretty like this, Rog.”

Roger tensed, his fingers tightening around your wrist, and he shifted, urging you to fuck his mouth deeper.

“Oh, poor baby,” you cooed, smiling in amusement. “You’re so desperate you’ll take anything, huh? Doesn’t even matter if I’m not touching your cock.”

Roger shivered, his hips twitching against thin air.

You pulled your hand back, much to his despair, and you wiped your fingers on the sheets. “Normally I’d get you to use your mouth, to stretch me out for you,” you said, “but I think I’ve covered that just fine myself.”

Roger watched you carefully, his blue eyes so full of hope yet so worried at the same time. “What… What does that mean, ma’am?”

You cupped his cheek, and he leant into it, making a soft sound. “It means I want you to fuck me.”

Roger’s eyes lit up. “What? Really? I can?”

“If you ask nicely.”

“Please can I fuck you, ma’am? Please?”

You smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

Roger’s beaming smile was blinding, and you couldn’t help but draw him in for a kiss. He made a happy sound against your lips, and you pulled away briefly to reposition yourself, your head on your pillows.

Roger pounced on you, kissing you deeply, hungrily, harder than he’d ever kissed you before. You gave his hair a tug, and his hips jerked against yours, the first solid stimulation he’d received in almost the entire time. You gasped at the friction, and he immediately broke away to press his forehead against your shoulder, letting out the most guttural, broken moan, overwhelmed by how good it felt and desperately trying to stop himself from doing it again, to not come early. You could see the muscles in his back and shoulders tense like before, and they looked absolutely gorgeous.

Roger panted against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to.”

“That’s okay, honey, you did such a good job stopping yourself,” you assured him, stroking your fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud. But it’s okay, I want you to fuck me. Take off your underwear for me?”

Roger did so. He was so hard that it looked like it hurt. He must have wanted to scream.

“Lube and condoms are in that drawer there,” you said, pointing to your bedside table.

Roger’s hands were trembling as he fetched them, and he hissed as he rolled the condom on himself and drizzled lube onto his hand, dragging it up and down his cock as lightly as he could, pressing his lips together to muffle his whimpers.

You reached for him, and he moved over to you without question, kissing you. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispered against your lips. “I’m so lucky, ma’am, thank you.” He kissed you again.

You were so surprised by what he’d said that you had no idea how to respond. You hoped he couldn’t tell how flustered you were.

He kissed your neck. “Now?” he said in between kisses. “Now, ma’am, can I now?”

“Yes, Rog,” you said, and he reached down to line himself up with your entrance. He started sliding into you, and you could see the way his breath stuttered. His head rested in the crook of your neck, and you hooked your legs over his hips. The slight ache felt good, familiar, and you stroked his back soothingly.

He sobbed against you. “I…”

“It’s all right, honey, you’re doing so well.”

“You feel so good.”

“You okay?”

Roger took a shuddering breath, and then lifted himself up on all fours above you, his eyes slightly damp. “Y-yeah,” he said shakily with a small laugh. “Just… you do feel really good.”

“Oh, hon,” you said with a small laugh in return, caressing his cheek.

Roger’s brow creased, and then he thrust into you the rest of the way. Your breath caught, and he moaned. “Fucking hell.”

You nudged him with your heels. “I’m good, I’m good.”

“I’m not,” Roger said, then added a quick, ma’am, just to be safe. “Just… give me a moment.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t last long,” you said. “I’ve already come.”

“You made yourself come,” Roger said. “I want to do it. Please.”

“Well, what am I gonna do,” you chuckled, “say no to that?”

Roger smiled weakly, and kissed you once, then readjusted his position slightly, and pulled out a touch, then thrust back into you.

“Oh, yes, Roger,” you sighed.

Roger kept it slow at first, his arms still shaking as he drove into you again and again, and it was incredible, the way you could feel the drag of his cock in and out of you. You made sure to keep up the praise every now and again, just reminding Roger that he was doing such a good job and that he was such a good boy, especially when he started fucking you faster, and every time you did, he whimpered, and the sound went straight to your core. You could tell how intently he was focusing on not coming before you did, and it honestly blew your mind how he was able to do it. He had to pause a couple times to catch himself, and he mumbled apologies and kissed your throat and your lips so sweetly each time before he had calmed himself enough to begin fucking you again.

You would’ve let him fuck you all day like this. He was being so good, so thoughtful and gentle and focused. You’d never seen Roger like this before, but you loved it. He was your good boy, your good boy who made such pretty noises and fucked you so well, who was so receptive to praise, who looked like he’d been blessed by God himself when you so much as touched his hair.

“Fuck,” you hissed when Roger hit the right spot again, “just like that, yes.”

Roger whined, hips snapping against you, hitting the spot again. “Shit, you feel so good,” he moaned. His rhythm stuttered, and he had to stop again, whining, pressing his forehead against your collarbones. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m sorry,” he panted, dropping a kiss to your skin. “You just feel so good, I can’t…”

“You’re doing such a wonderful job,” you said, combing your hands through his sweaty, tangled hair. “You’re so close to coming, huh?”

Roger nodded. “I – I was close when I first went inside you,” he confessed. “This is… I’m…”

“I’m not stopping you from coming, honey,” you said. “I don’t mind.”

Roger lifted his head, kissing your lips briefly, and shook his head. “Don’t wanna,” he said. “Not till you do.” He took a breath. “Are you–?”

You bit your lip, not wanting to disappoint him, but: “Not really, honey. You’re doing so well, it feels so good, but I just need more to actually get there.”

Roger nodded, his eyes growing determined.

“Rog, you don’t–”

“No, I can do it.” He kissed you again, then shifted, taking your ankle and resting it on his shoulder. Your leg was bent at the knee, and there was no way in hell you were going to be able to straighten it. You hoped he wasn’t planning on leaning too far forward, unless he wanted to tear your hamstring.

“I don’t know if I’m that flexible, Roger,” you said with a laugh.

“Please, ma’am,” Roger pleaded, and, well, you had to at least give it a try.

You nodded. “Okay, sweetheart, we’ll give it a go.”

Roger made sure your ankle was firmly in place, and then balanced himself on one hand, his other hand reaching between you, circling your clit. You sucked in a breath, your back arching.

Roger started fucking you again, slowly once more, while playing with your clit, and the combination of his fingers, with you feeling every ridge and vein on his cock, with your leg at a new angle, sent your mind into a frenzy.

“Oh,” you blurted, your eyes going wide, your fingers gripping the sheets beside you. “Oh, Jesus.”

Every time you clenched around Roger, he made a muffled whimpering sound, but he kept going, his jaw clenched.

You used your hand to keep your leg in place, because this felt good, and you did not want your leg to fall from Roger’s shoulder. You moaned helplessly. “Roger, God, fuck.”

Roger said nothing, concentrating too hard on his task. The familiar coil began tightening in your belly.

“Keep going, keep going,” you urged him breathlessly. “Ah, fuck, fuck.”

Roger started driving into your harder, and your leg slipped from his shoulder onto the bed, but it didn’t matter, because Roger’s fingers were making fucking magic.

The only obvious tell-tale that he was doing everything he could to stave off his own orgasm was the way he whined, “Please, please,” almost in a chant. His hips jerked off rhythm again, and he groaned deeply, but kept fucking you.

“I’m so close,” you told him. “So close, Rog, come on.”

He sobbed, his fingers working even harder. “Please.”

The coil was tightening more and more, and you cried out. “That’s it, come on, fuck, so – ah – so close.”

Roger was shaking with the effort, and you genuinely believed for a moment that he was about to come before you, but then he fucked into you just right, hitting that spot, and you completely came undone, crying out, your whole body shaking with the force of it. Feeling you coming around him, Roger followed immediately, hips ramming into yours, face buried in your neck, a loud, desperate sob punching from him, and he must have come hard, because he kept gasping out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” his body convulsing as he curled around you.

Then it was quiet, apart from the sound of heavy breathing. Your aftershocks rippled through you still, slowly fading, and Roger twitched slightly every time they did.

“Oh my God,” you said to the ceiling.

Roger finally slumped against you, unable to hold himself up any longer, and, although it winded you and you were both far too sweaty, you didn’t mind.

“Jesus Christ, Roger,” you said, combing through his hair again.

He moaned pathetically.

“You all right?”

He let out a small whimper, but nodded. “Just gimme a sec.”

You laughed, and patted his back. “All right.��

He took another moment, and then struggled onto all fours, pulling out of you, and collapsed onto the bed beside you.

You grinned at the look on his face as he stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed.

“I,” he said. “Came. So. Hard.”

You burst into laughter, and he looked to you, laughing himself, but still bewildered. “I did!” he insisted. “It was like I came five times in a row or something. I don’t think I can walk after that.”

“I believe you,” you giggled.

Roger shook his head, looking back to the ceiling. “Shit.”

“How are you feeling?” you said. “We… got pretty deep into it.”

Roger licked his lips. “I’m – I’m okay,” he said. “I feel a little… spacey? But I’m all right.”

When you got a little spacey after you and Brian had gone harder than usual into the dom/sub dynamics, you only ever wanted two things: water, and cuddles.

“I’ll get you some water,” you said, sitting up. It was more difficult than you wanted to admit. “Ah, God.”

Roger chuckled. “How are you?”

“Exhausted.” You shot him a smile. “Dude, we have the hottest sex ever. How are we so good at this?”

“I know, right?” Roger said as you stood up and stretched, then went to throw on an old dress. “Maybe we should drop out of uni and become porn stars together. We’d make a bomb.”

You snorted. “I know you’re joking, but I can also tell that you’re kinda not, so I’m just gonna say it now: I’m not dropping out of uni to become a porn star.”

You headed to the kitchen.

“Maybe think it over?” Roger called after you.

You ignored him. You got yourself a drink of water, and were just finding something to snack on, when Roger stepped into the kitchen, dressed in his underwear and his shirt. He looked small, vulnerable.

“Mm?” you said.

“Um,” he said, stepping closer. “I… I don’t know.”

Oh. Cuddles.

You hopped up onto the kitchen bench and spread your arms. “C’mere,” you said, and he hurried over, burying his face in your shoulder, his arms holding you close.

You just held him, scratching the base of his skull soothingly. He sighed contentedly, and you smiled.

You showered first, and he went second. You lent him an old shirt and a pair of pyjama pants, which fitted him more like boxers. You were a big fan. He was not, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. He was unusually quiet, but he seemed happy, and when you offered to let him sleep over, he accepted wholeheartedly. For the rest of the afternoon, and then the evening, he was always touching you in some way, and you gave your cuddles freely. He curled against you as you both watched a movie on your laptop in your room after dinner, and he nodded off with his head against your shoulder.

You let him. It was nice.

The next morning, he was back to his old self. “What would you have done if I’d called you ‘Mummy’ instead of ‘ma’am’ yesterday?” he asked thoughtfully.

You almost spat out your tea, glancing furtively towards Lucy’s bedroom. Hopefully she was still asleep. “Uh.”

“Y’know, because you called me ‘Daddy’, not ‘sir’.”

“Yeah, no, I get it.” You took another sip of tea. “Well, what if I’d told you to call me ‘Daddy’?”

Roger stared at the table as he processed this. Then he looked back up to you. “Hm,” he said. “I honestly don’t know how I feel about that one. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“My answer’s the same as yours,” you said. “I honestly don’t know how I feel about that one.”

Roger nodded, and took a bite of toast. “Fair enough. Has Brian ever called you that?”

“What, ‘Mummy’?” you said, and Roger shrugged. “No. It never even occurred to either of us.”

“What does he called you?”

You pulled a face. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious.”

You were about to say something else, about how it was weird he wanted to know, but you bit your tongue. “He doesn’t call me anything, really,” you said instead. “Just my name. Even when I’m calling him ‘Daddy’, he… doesn’t really call me anything. He calls me a, uh, good girl, but, yeah, just my name. He’s not as big on the pet names during sex as you are.”

Roger scoffed. “Well, he’s missing out, that’s all I have to say.”

You chuckled. “Well, I’m seeing him tonight, so maybe I can ask him.”

Roger raised his eyebrows. “You’re seeing him tonight? Like…”

“Sleeping with him, yes.”

“You’re not tuckered out after last night?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug. “But I guess I’ll have to get used to it if I’m going to be balancing the two of you from now on, aren’t I?”

“Guess so, yeah.”

“I can just make him do all the work,” you added with a smile. “He’ll be a bit grumpy about it, but he’ll do it.”

“Can you get him to wash all my dishes?”

“No.”

Roger made a disgruntled face, and you laughed.

Okay. Maybe this could work out, after all.

#mine #roger taylor x reader #queen fanfiction #smut #try verse #rpf

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elichorph · 3 years

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ok hi i’m back with a second character ...

the member of the yale's elite, they're twenty three and a grad student majoring in film & media studies. they are as amicable as they are histrionic.

stats:

full name: gordon minjun teller nicknames: goose. gordon is for business only age: twenty three birthday: june 13, 1997 chart: gemini sun / cancer moon / leo rising gender: cis male pronouns: he / him sexuality: bisexual & biromantic height: 6′1 hair color: blue (now blonde) tattoos: none piercings: nose stud (right side), earlobes (always have silver hoops in them)

PINTEREST BOARD

blackmail:

while the public believes that goose’s family retired and moved to another country, this was actually released as a coverup because they went missing. goose withheld information from the court about their last whereabouts which could have prevented it from becoming a cold case.

he was expelled from high school after vandalizing a statue on campus and his uncle paid the school to go back on their decision.

he lost a third of his inheritance money to a cult he briefly followed in his sophomore year of college while looking for guidance.

backstory:

tw: implied death

right at birth, goose was adopted into the teller family who were pretty well known. his father was a young ceo of an oil company in texas. goose’s family eventually became public figures and tabloid favorites after a long riveting love story between his father and mother, who belonged to opposing business families. it really was a quick rise and fall to fame, starting when it was revealed goose’s adoptive mom, grace, couldn’t have kids, he was in her arms not even a month after and right out of them thirteen years later when she disappeared and the family really was never to be heard of again.

but as the only adopted child into a family who had to keep their public image up, goose’s dreams of being a fun loving kid were crushed. really, it was strictly gordon - gordon on the tabloids, you’d see his baby face like aw thank god grace got to have a kid of her own <3 he was posted up at galas, listening to his dad speak about oil and shit every weekend and going back to his small private school every monday and it was just the same routine conditioning to keep the image of the teller family spotless and to hopefully get gOrDoN to become the next ceo.

that all kind of went to shit though when goose turned 14. his parents miraculously went missing (don’t ask me what happened i don’t even know) one night when he was tucked into bed. seriously, he woke up one morning and they were gone and suddenly there were police storming the house and he was being questioned and things weren’t routine or safe anymore. in order to still save face for the family though, news was quickly put out that the family went on a private vacation while the investigation went on privately. it was taken to court, people signed nda’s, and all little goose knew was that he his parents were going to a party that night and hadn’t told anybody else and he was too scared to tell anyone. at one point goose became the main suspect and he had to put his freshman year of high school on pause, but he was dismissed months after even though he hadn’t shared the detail that they went to a party. if he had shared it, they literally would’ve been found. eventually, there were no new leads, the case was declared cold, and an official statement was put out that the teller parents “retired” and “moved” to a different country that wouldn’t be disclosed and gOrDoN would be under the care of his uncle.

gordon was like mad though haha. even though he’d gotten his family’s entire inheritance as a fifteen year old and should’ve been happy that he was basically a millionaire, he wasn’t used to things not being in the same routine and actually having to make decisions for himself. newsflash, but goose can’t handle emotions really well and he got angry and well i don’t know if you’ve seen donnie darko where donnie literally put an axe through the statue’s head and spray painted “they made me do it” below the statue? but yeah, that. goose wasn’t slick though, got caught by security, and his uncle paid the school to let it slide and then sent goose to a boarding school in maruland.

he spent the last couple years of high school trying to figure out who he actually was outside of the tabloids and the teller name and image, and eventually got the hang of it by the time he enrolled at yale. he started going by goose instead of gordon, went into film instead of business like his family wanted him to and slowly started to blossom into the weirdo he is today <3 his dad was in the elites so he was able to secure a legacy spot and reluctantly said yes to joining. he was kinda quiet the first year, but now he’s all gungho to do charity events and make people happy and shit like that.

his sophomore year though he kinda doubted the path he was on and his naive ass got roped up into a cult. anyways, he ended up trusting them a lot and donated 1/3 of his family’s inheritance to the cult and kinda blew it. goose was acting hella weird around this time though, i imagine people around him could kinda sense he wasn’t like alright for a few months. anyways someone ended up giving him an intervention about acting kinda whack and he realized and thankfully was able to leave the cult pretty unscathed. but he is deeply, deeply ashamed about his time in the cult though.

personality:

he is one gigantic deranged baby. like he is baby, but he’s also kind of crazy. if goose feels any normal emotion, it instantly bass boosts and he feels it in full. goose genuinely is so sensitive, he’ll physically flinch if you say something merely mean to him because he was used to growing up so perfect that he really can’t take criticism. however, he’ll do his best to patch things up by saying some incomprehensible joke right there and then. the only exception to this is the tabloids. goose has become so immune to them that he will straight up troll them back on twitter because he just doesn’t give two shits.

he’s incredibly kind. so so so kind (not really gentle though). the type to remember your favorite candy bar and hand one to you on a random tuesday. he’ll remember your name even if you’ve only met once and even if you didn’t give him your name, he’ll look it up somehow just so he knows next time. he loves to make jokes all the time. none of them ever make sense, but they’re funny to him and he won’t apologize for it. and he’s LOUD. you probably can hear his cackles and snorts and dramatic screams even when you’re on the other side of campus. he’s just a kid in a candy store excited to finally enjoy life, especially now that things have seemed to settle down. even though he’ll probably have a whole breakdown and a half the first time the blackmailer mentions his name.

yes, he actually believes he’s being haunted by jfk. goose had a string of dreams about him and witnessed some doors opening and closing on their own around the same time, and he quickly jumped to the conclusion and never thought twice about it. another strange belief that goose has? that he’s friends with a ton of a-listers. even though it’s mainly jessica alba, he won’t hesitate to tweet at extremely famous actors and thank them for getting lunch with him even if they’ve never spoke. multiple management companies have his twitter handle blacklisted. while he currently has blue hair, it’s always quick to change. for how much he dyes it, it’s surprising that it doesn’t feel like hay. if goose feels a mental breakdown coming or simply is bored or needs attention, his hair color will do a straight 180. he hasn’t had a natural hair color since he enrolled at yale.

things that are very goose: beat up yellow high top converse, getting to know every person in existence, having memes plastered over his wall to make him smile after a long day, wearing fancy cologne to the grocery store because one cashier said he smelled good and he thinks it makes them happy to wear that, throwing a shoe across a crowd at a party, going to sulk in the bathroom or leave the party early when a song plays that brings up bad memories, keeping every movie stub, restaurant punch card, and lost button in a little scrapbook just because he wants to remember the good things in life, thinking the karate kid is the best movie to ever exist despite being five years into a film major.

wanted connections

since he doesn’t have any pre-established connections, here are some ones that could kinda be fun

someone who protects his naive ass <3

an ex or old one sided crush who hurt him so bad lmao. they really wouldn’t have to a lot to do that, but it would be juicy if they did

roommate? maybe? he lived in a really shitty apartment his first few years, maybe they convinced him to move out or moved in

or neighbors? like he will knock on their door 3 times a week with half burnt brownies to offer or because he doesn’t know where his tv remote is and needs help

someone who gave him the intervention about like “you’re acting weird are you okay” that indirectly got him to leave the cult and he feels like he’s forever indebted to them

someone who just despises goose and he doesn’t understand why and tries to make things better even though it just makes things worse

family friends? maybe? when he was in ct and his uncle didn’t let him come home with him during the holidays he would go to their house or something like that

gentle romance <3 maybe. Please

he’s their secret admirer and sends them gifts and flowers and writes them bad poems and recommends them shitty romance films

someone who takes advantage of how naive he is

anything <3 come 2 me or i will dm you or venmo you and force u to plot with me

#intro

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dcarhcarts · 5 years

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This.....is the 1000th post on this blog, and I definitely waited until that could be true to post it, and that’s honestly? Very fitting. Seriously, you guys are a m a z i n g and I have literally never done a milestone before so I can’t tell you what it’s supposed to look like?? But we’ve somehow Miraculously (tm) managed to reach 100 followers and - anyway, this is going to be me very unprofessionally gushing about everyone because....I love you all and you’re all amazing aaaaaa. I’m??? Literally so blessed to have made friends and write with all of you. Y’all with multiple blogs, I’m only tagging once so I don’t spam your feed ok? And - as usual, this is going to get Long, because everything I do gets Long apparently. I tried to do it chronologically but IDK how well it worked oops.

THE LOVES OF MY LIFE, THE SUN IN MY EYES, MY MOON AND STARS

@ccrrupticn / D!!!! you are?? literally the reason I made this blog?? Without you, this thing would n o t mcfreaking exist omg!! You’re such an amazing writer (seriously, you manage so many muses and you give them all such distinct voices??? witchcraft???) and also so ???ridiculously kind! I love gushing to you about our Kids and you’re honestly A Saint (tm) for dealing with all of my blog construction/life related breakdowns, my crazy crossover headcanons and crashing into your inbox rambling about musicals <3 I miss talking to you so hmu whenever you come back if you want!!

@personnages / Lynna!! You’re like an Actual Angel. I think you were the first person!! who talked to me?? And You were So Nice and Welcoming that you literally soothed half of my fears coming into rpc like immediately?? You basically helped me figure out how diminutives work and you’re responsible for me adding at least 3 of my muses and I cannot tell you how much I love you and every time you pop onto my dash/feed/discord/etc, it just makes me happy inside <3 Definitely 100000% will follow you to every blog (if you’ll have me lmao) regardless of fandom!! i’m super excited about all of our ship/friendship roulettes and you’re just an absolute joy to talk to.

@nikolacvnas / LYDIA goodness you are a W O N D E R. Probably the best? Historically based blog I’ve ever encountered, and definitely one of my favorite parts of the Anastasia rpc!! The care and research and attention to detail that goes into your portrayals are a s t o n i s h i n g? Your Tatya is divine, your Maria is So Lovely and I Cry For Joy that you write Dima honestly. I’d been eyeing your blog for a little bit before I made my own - and I was honestly a little scared of you when we started cause you are a GODDESS and I am a potato, but then we talked??? and you’re hilarious and a ridiculously kind person and I love you? And of course, I love your dog (the cutest in the universe).

@mythostold / LESLIE~ Different blog, same story~ Man, I’ve been following you since maybe day two of this blog being active? No matter which fandom you end up in and which muse you write, you have such!! good!!! takes!!! For one, I love reading your meta posts??? Like you’re just so incredibly passionate about your muses?? And your writing style is so good aaaaaaa it’s so atmospheric. And on top of all of that - you’re??? such a sweet and incredible??? person??? And I love talking to you boo <3

@lifeawoke / NAT BBYSWEET <3 <3 <3 I have told the story of how I did a victory dance when you followed me to d e a t h probably but it’s t r u e your writing is amazing and your blog is amazing and y o u are amazing! You are the Natasha to my Sonya, and literally every time you send me a musing I’m like immediate-goofy-grin-heart-eyes???? It’s honestly a crime we don’t have more threads but like you’re an absolute joy to talk to and meme with and I adore you/your portrayal of beautiful bratty Natasha even if she drives my Sonya up the wall <3 You are Definitely the Funny Mutual lololol I crack up so much talking to you <3

@valianceearned / CARP you’re an amazing person/writer and holy h e c k am I impressed by your OCs!! They’re all so well thought out and developed? Your bios are so detailed and so much love and care is put into all of your characters. And your writing is so Lovely and it’s also very aesthetically lovely like holy heck the amount of work you put into both the content and the formatting? I am agog, I am aghast!!

@gearsandlevers / Callie!!!!! YOU ROUND ALL THE CORNERS I STRAIGHTEN THE CURVES!! love your kids so much. Your Violet is a delightfully clever and likeable kid, your Evan might have literally walked off the stage two seconds ago, and you’ve put so much thought into your cinnabon stoner Henry. Your dialogue is amazing and I love our headcanon sessions lobbing ideas back and forth with you!!

@spareisms / HEY MAGGIE GUESS WHAT YOU’RE WORTH MELTING FOR!! You’re like the sweetest person alive??? How are you an Actual Real Life Disney Princess?? Your Anna is so well characterized and multi layered and I love how she an be so flawed but so brave and just how human she is. I’m very excited for your Anne Shirley too!! You’re a great writer (and a super sweet person aaaa) and I love you!!

@gcneralvaganov / Deanna, I have just one question: How? Have we only known each other for like 2 months???? It feels like my dash would literally be incomplete without you?? You play such deeply complex and incredibly flawed muses with such a great depth of respect and humanity. I love all of our AUs (we.....probably have a dozen by now), our long fix-canon tangents, and....look the inevitable conclusion to this whole thing is that we should....basically just write Anastasia tbh??? You’re incredibly funny and kind and talented and I’m so glad I yeeted myself into your IMs that first time 2 months ago! I love you, I love your muses, (Dima and Anya love their Dumb Boyfriend), and I love writing with you!

@ncvaflows / ALEXA YOU ABSOLUTE LEGEND YOU. You??? Unlocked Ultimate AU Mode Ro and it’s like I c a n ‘ t stop?? First off, I cannot believe we literally own the same books and like the same barbie movies. How are we not literally the same person?? (Maybe w e ’ r e Anneliese and Erika lmao). Honestly from day 1 you’ve been so welcoming and lovely and I’m so glad we crashed into each other’s IMs yelling at top volume about random ya lit/movies/aus!! I adore literally all of your OCs (is everyone a b s o l u t e l y sure they’re not canon??? hmmmmm a Mystery)???? In the words of Li Shang, “You WRITE GOOD????” Anyway you’re amazing and I love you <3

WHILE IT’S DEFINITELY MY FAULT FOR BEING AN ANXIOUS BEAN WE REALLY NEED TO TALK MORE OFTEN CAUSE I LOVE YOU

@curtainrisen / Rebekah, dude, you’re a wonder. Your muses??? So diverse, and your voices for them? Super on the nose and amazing. I love your Helene and how human she is, and I really gotta toss more of my kids at you (Super excited for Duke!!). You’re real chill to meme with and I love talking/writing with you!!

@heartlosttravelers / Tor!! I love that you stan Raoul de Chagny So Hard ( the pure cinnamon roll boy deserves it honestly) and you’re super cool and great to talk to! All your muses are a m a z i n g and I always love the read when you pop up on my dash!

@damerusse / Marie!! You’re hella chill. Your memes???? 10000000% actually legendary. Meming with you cracks me The Heck Up. Lily is forever the puppy dealer, that is all, thank you, gnight. Ok for real though - your Lily is pretty Legendary too and you really got all that Spark and Fire right down. You’re amazing, and I love stalking your threads on my dash!

@lionhvrted / Fortune, my buddy my pal, we really be Out Here making Jane Austen plots even m o r e rom-com. Like. How did we manage that??? We might be literally magical lmao. We don’t have a ton of stuff going on at the moment but I love our dumb pining kids and I love the justice and humanity you give to your Caroline, and Fitzy loves his (future) wife.

@guvernantka / P R U E I already love our Exasperated Big Sis / Annoying Lil Sis / LITERALLY WHO EVEN ARE YOU YOU SMELLY DUMBASS LIL BRO IN LAW dynamic. You have the Best Sense of Humor (tm) and I’m always catching you when it’s like 12 in the morning here so I’m always cracking up silently in bed trying not to wake my roommies up.

@anastcsie / I LOVE OUR ANGRY SMOL AND DIRTY TOL YOUNG-BUT-OLD MARRIED COUPLE AND THEIR OLDEST DAUGHTER NAMED MARIA ALREADY. I love your Anya and how feisty and fiery she is (Dima, needless to say, loves his wife) and I love how chill (and hilarious!!) you are as a person. We do have a tendency to turn into angst monsters 24/7 but honestly that’s half the fun!!

@asundrop / Polly!!!! ok so I know we haven’t really done anything w/ Raps (yet muahaha) BUT b o y was I hella excited when I found someone willing to yell about CDrama with me??? Thank you for being the Eternally Stoic/Always Annoyed Ancient God to my Tiny Dumb Fox Princess?? I love them and I love you (you’re hella cool) so there!

@moretreasurewithin / KAAAATE goodness it’s only been a couple of days but I’m So Comfortable talking to you already? You’re just honestly really amazingly kind and I love screaming about Anastasia with you. We gotta get more going but I love your Dima and Maria Already (tm) and I love your sense of humor (here’s to torturing Dima with ties!!) and I can’t wait to get to know you better!

@annastrxng / AAAA somehow I managed to chat with you and then?? We never got anything going and it’s definitely mostly my fault cause of that High Anxiety (and also the fact that I got Immediately Busy) but you are literally So Nice and The Most Understanding and super great to talk to!! I hope we get something going in the future!!

@soulcrossed / ROSE we have the same name I keep forgetting this lmao BUT ANYWAY. All your muses?? Amazing. You gotta throw more of them at me. Your Sophie?? Are you Actually Diana Wynn Jones in disguise?? I love our crazy au/headcanon sessions and I love/hate that you’re The Worst Enabler and I’m inevitably going to end up with the other two Hatter sisters on this blog lmao.

I HAVEN’T TALKED TO YOU TON YET BUT HI!!! YOU SEEM CHILL!!

@alonecour / @steeledstark / @professor-of-predators / @sclskinn / @dulcettc / @volaticoux / @frxncaise / @argelfrasterr / @i-wrote-myway / @zharptiitsa / @villainsfall / @anyaromanovarp / @agoodandloyalrussian / @aliquisinter

AND EVERY ONE OF Y’ALL AMAZING PEOPLE OUT THERE I’M ADMIRING SILENTLY FROM AFAR EVEN NOW BECAUSE I CHICKENED OUT OF TAGGING YOU LAST MINUTE CAUSE WHAT IF YOU’RE LIKE “LMAO WHO IS THIS WEIRDO TAGGING ME??” (p.s. this is 100000% permission to slide into my IMs/like a plotting call/etc. I honestly think y’all are hella cool and probably love you already)

#follow forever #( milestone )#( ooc ) ✵ ~ CHANDELIERS AND CAVIAR ~ /#((................you know i made more friends than i thought i would coming into rpc as an anxious smol))#((I LOVE YOU ALL YOU'RE ALL AMAZING))#((thanks for putting up w/ me & my Super Anxious Self))#((ok i'm just gonna post this before i forget and reblog something and miss the 1000th post))

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neurodivergentaf · 6 years

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I could not stop my cursed brain from spouting the sheer amount of bullshit it loves to provide the public with on matters that I really don’t want to deal with but here we are!! Review of the movie Split (2017) by a person professionally diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. I had to rewatch this crap on exam night so pay up anons and read under the cut. Warning for spoilers

I’m not going to be all “blah blah this is a horrible movie 1/5 stars” because let me be clear 2 u. This movie made me angry. This movie was also, from an objective standpoint, well done. I love psychological horror art, but as I weighed the pros and cons on the consequences that can arise from this movie existence, I can safely say Fuck All That. I know I missed a lot of details, but I didn’t want to waste time trying to explain the basics of DID and take up too much space on this post (lol failed).

Here is a half-assed review on Split by a sleep deprived college student messed up on about twenty different types of cold and flu medicine. Enjoy!

Accidentally watched on hulu the movie Split 2016. checked the genre halfway through and decided that the big fat ‘romantic comedy’ title probably meant it wasn’t the one i was looking for; proceeded to watch the actual Split movie via unsavory websites. i risked my life for this. the cops are coming any second to arrested me

Gave up and decided i didn’t want to ruin my night, so i watched John Mulaneyneyeney’s new movie on netflix. it was fantastic

Actual start of review:

I found it really interesting how the Buzzkill Girl protagonist was also shown to have experienced childhood trauma like Barry, yet the movie puts the antagonist as the only one with DID and homicidal tendencies. I think that a better way to have handled this was to also give the protag DID as a plot twist and to show that it really depends on the person, not the disorder itself. (But even if they had done that, there are still too many inaccuracies given about DID in the movie that are harmful to the community. I’ll explain more about that later.)

This woman looks EXACTLY like the therapist that also diagnosed me with DID. What the fuck. 5/5 stars for physical character accuracy

“Nobody even believes that we exist!” Very true. Do you know how many people I know irl that I’ve told about my disorder to? 0. When was the last time you ever heard about DID on the news or in irl conversation? Exactly. We don’t feel like we really exist sometimes, because no one wants to even acknowledge it. Therapists would rather consider the most far-fetched ideas before even thinking about DID, because they are never really taught the skills on how to handle it or identify it.

Some people with DID refer to themselves in plural form. Some don’t. Barry just happens to use the plural form, probably to remind the audience of his condition. Just wanted to point that out there.

“We always think of shattered people as ... less that us. What if they’re more?” I think that was a beautiful phrase. Really, I loved Dr. Fletcher’s quotes about DID and the way they wrote her. Too bad about pretty much everything else.

I was kinda “eh” about this part because alters don’t really talk out loud to each other; especially if we’re in a position where someone else can hear us, because we’re aware of how socially unacceptable it it. Usually conversations aren’t held with full sentences, most of the time it’s impressions of feelings or intentions. But Barry is shown whispering in a room alone, so I’ll accept it I guess

Oh yeah. This part. Fuck this part in particular. This doesn’t relate much to the DID topic as much as a transphobic one. They put the villain, a cannibalistic antagonist, in association with gender non-conformity and, by extension, trans women. Yeah. fuck that. On an actual DID note, differential genders between alters are pretty common, especially if you have 3+ alters.

I won’t post screenshots of it, but if you watch the movie it is obvious with it’s uncomfortable sexual displays of underage girls that it also associates DID with some form of perversion. This provides even more negativity towards people with DID when the fact of the matter is that people with DID are no more geared towards unethical actions than neurotypical people.

Some people with DID don’t see their alters as human, whether or not that comes from their trauma or as a type of coping mechanism. For me, I have a very scary looking alter that is that way as a defense system against the scary situations I’ve had to face. But that does not mean an alter is inherently violent.

Child alters are also common because of the same reason listed above. DID is a disorder that manifests in childhood, and I have yet to meet a person with DID that does not have a child or child-like alter.

A side-effect of DID is memory loss, also called dissociative amensia. There have been cases where alters withheld information (usually traumatic events) from one another as a way to cope. DID is all about being able to function at the most optimal level when faced with persistent trauma, so missing information about daily life or important events are common.

*deep sigh* Okay...the skype call scene. Let’s do this shit. First off, I’m gonna have to call bullshit on how good the video in this looks. 1/5 stars for skype accuracy

This is pretty common with DID. It can present itself in different styles of writing or talking depending on the alter. Some alters are similar enough that this doesn’t really apply to them.

Uh, yeah, no. This is just straight up untrue. False. Nein. Ne. Doesn’t fucking happen. The only way I can kinda of see what she’s trying to say is if she’s focusing on the fact that an alter can be unaware of their own physical abilities and as such, can act in a limited way. But physically, we are not different. DID is not a developmental disorder. If the body was born with ADHD, then all the alters will have ADHD, even if the ADHD will manifest in different ways for the alters (e.g., one alter can focus a little more on a certain subject than another)

It ain’t that deep dude. I’m just trying to keep my cool when Melli eats all of my fucking york mint patties and Andrei has hidden my fucking keys in a fucking spot where I can’t fucking remember Andrei you piece of shit

I don’t understand what he is trying to say here. I think I’ve ever only heard of one incident where a person with DID could control when one of their alters can take over, and it wasn’t from a credible source. We can’t control who can front and who can’t. I use the word “front” in place of “the light” here because i have neverrrrrr heard any person with DID use that term.

It can be very hard to distinguish who is fronting and who is not. The person fronting can give an educated guess, but can’t be 100% certain because personalities always change and grow and can hide things about themselves that they don’t even recognize.

Ouch...that scene hit home for me. Internal conflicts are common and can lead to self-stigmatization within the group. There can even be cliques like ‘here are the bad alters’ and ‘here are the good alters.’ This happens because we are simply human.

After more than an hour of rewatching Split i decided to stop because this post is getting too long and i want to focus on the more important issues of it instead of liveblogging. Also the small fact that my body has been trying to kill me via mucus in my lungs for 2 days straight.

Lets get one thing clear: “With DID patients, if they feel hostility or aggression they take it out on themselves with self-harm… They’re self-destructive and repeatedly suicidal, more so than any other psychological disorder. So that’s what’s typical – not this wild aggression, or stalking women [or robbery].” — Dr Bethany Brand, on Billy Milligan and Multiple Personality Disorder (DID)

“But it could happen!” You can say. Yeah, sure. It could happen because of the simple fact it’s not entirely impossible that a person with DID could kidnap girls and be a cannibal. The issue is not that it’s not impossible, the issue is that This Is It. This movie is one of the very few that even reference DID, and it’s a horror movie with inaccurate information about the disorder. When was the last time you heard something positive about DID? When was the last time you came across accurate information about it without having to consciously search for it? This is it. The therapist tells us that DID is not evil, and then an hour later is murdered by her patient, which encourages the audience to disbelieve what she claimed. This movie tells people that we are inherently violent, perverse, dangerous, and it has taken the progress made to understand DID 10 steps back. Fuck this movie. We don’t deserve this. We’re not some parody to make money off of. We’re people who have had a ton of shit thrown at us to make us this way and now these people want to tell us that we’re monsters.

I wouldn’t be so prissy about this if there were 10,000+ good movies about DID and this just so happened to be the only bad one. I wouldn’t even be writing this review. Curse you, parallel dimension me, you lucky son of a bitch.

So. Yeah. Fuck this shit.

#long post #split #did #actuallydid #dissociative identity disorder #split movie #lol sorry to the mobile users rip #mine #alter #alters #bluespace

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kareenvorbarra · 6 years

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can you do "Seeing Beren grimace at his suggestion" to the end, from your Beren at the ruin of Doriath tumblr fic?

this is from the fic dvd commentary meme that i reblogged like a month and a half ago. andie was the only person to send a prompt and then i went to brazil and never responded gkjhaldskjghg so here you go, thank u for your patience my friend

the fic in question is a WIP excerpt that I posted on tumblr here. its working title on my computer is “Last Fight” (‘This ford the Dwarves must pass ere they reached the mountain passes that led unto their homes; and there Beren fought his last fight, warned of their approach by Melian’). I started this story back in ye olde wankier days of 2013, and haven’t added significantly to it since then, though i would theoretically like to finish it someday x_x I’d been stanning Beren for a while by then, in response to some fan interpretations that i found unfair. In late 2013, me and a couple of my friends were low-key feuding with another small group of fans about various topics (Feanorians vs. literally anyone else, Noldor vs. Sindar, King’s Men vs. Faithful, you name it) and somehow the cool new debate became Dwarves vs. Doriathrim. For a while there was some arguing back and forth in meta and reblogs about who exactly was more at fault in the whole Thingol-Dwarves-First Sack of Doriath fiasco.

i’ll spare you the details of the wider debate, but Beren inevitably got drawn into the arguments because of his role in ambushing the dwarven army on their way back to Nogrod, where he and some Green-elves killed nearly everyone who had participated in the attack on Doriath. the specific issue that prompted me to write this snippet of fic was the question of whether or not Beren, having killed all these Dwarves who were not working for Morgoth or coming to attack him personally, should have been able to hold a Silmaril without getting burned. by that point I was pretty tired of trying to argue that attacking multiple civilian settlements because someone took your dad’s jewelry is not morally equivalent to ambushing an army that just came from attacking a civilian settlement, and instead decided to write a fic that solved the question by simply not having Beren touch the Silmaril because it freaks him out (which has been my headcanon for a while since he’s canonically the only person who keeps getting a Silmaril and immediately handing it off to someone else). He just picks the Nauglamir up by the necklace part and brings it home and gives it to Luthien. It seems a bit silly now but that was my initial motivation.

i was also intrigued by the way the Green-elves, or at least the ones who associate closely with Beren and Luthien, seem to have no interest in the Silmaril for either magical or political reasons - they simply bring it to Dior when B&L die. I wanted to emphasize the fact that the Green-elves have different priorities than pretty much everyone else when it comes to material possessions; their lifestyle and culture doesn’t particularly value treasure or physical permanence (i think there’s a line in the Silm about how their settlements can be to quickly and thoroughly hidden that the Beorians don’t even notice that there are people living there when they first enter Ossiriand). Also I believe there’s a line in the Silm or somewhere about all the treasure (except the Silmaril) getting thrown into the river, and maybe also about it being cursed. The Green-elves don’t seem like people who would take any chances with stuff like that, and they’re not super into shiny things regardless, so it would be an easy call for them i think.

Almwë is an OC i originally created for the fic Inheritance, which features flashbacks to Dior’s childhood in Ossiriand. In my headcanon, Nimloth’s father is from Doriath and her mother is from Ossiriand. Though she grew up in Doriath, Nimloth often visited her mother’s family and has a strong connection to that part of her heritage. Almwë is Nimloth’s mother’s older brother, and a chieftain of sorts among the elves of southern Ossiriand, where Beren and Luthien live (i know you’ve already read this Andie but if anyone else is curious, I wrote a bunch of headcanons about the political and social structure of Ossiriand here). I wanted to further explore Beren and Luthien’s connection to the Green-elves with this fic, and Beren’s relationship with Almwë was one way to do that.

The last full paragraph, where Beren thinks about his relatives....well, i’m weak for Beren thinking about his relatives. that’s always been one of fandom’s weakness when it comes to writing/discussing Beren, i think - his story is one of overcoming tremendous obstacles and immense trauma and building a future for himself despite losing everyone and everything he cared about, and his memories of his family are just as important to his story as his relationship with Luthien. i don’t think the profound emptiness and grief that comes from losing his entire culture every fully leave him.

and there aren’t a lot of depictions of old Beren, not even in the Legendarium - the battle at Sarn Athrad is one of the only real stories we have about him after he and Luthien go to Tol Galen. I think Beren loves living there, and that he fits in pretty well with the Green-elves and has friends among them, but it’s still a weird feeling to grow old among all these elves with only his own sort-of mortal family members for company. i think aging would make him think about his family even more, and remember the things they told him about growing older (since he has no one around now who’s gone through those experiences before him), and i think it would make him miss them in a new way. but i also think he’s able to remember them with happiness, and that even though there is bitterness and regret in him still, he knows his family would rather he survive and be happy than die with them or out of grief for them. there was also plenty of criticism of B/L going around in those days about how they didn’t “deserve” their “happy” ending (lmao) and while i think that’s garbage obviously, their ending is ultimately pretty bittersweet, and i wanted to convey that too, with old Beren being dragged back into war when he’d hoped to live the rest of his days in peace, and always living with the horrors of his past.

#vardasvapors #this is SO long and rambling i'm so sorry #man.....i really wrote quite a bit of spitefic back in the day #too bad i didn't finish more of it #beren #meme response #wank for ts #(mentions of old beren fights)

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ipoddymouth · 6 years

Text

Miracle On Whatever Street My Mom Lives On (An ‘Et Al.’ Holiday Drabble)

“Is Santa real?”

That was it. That was the question that fucked me over. There were so many things Moose asked me that I answered without even batting an eye (what’s sex? Handled. How much is crack? I gotchu, sis!), but that was the one question that I legitimately didn’t know how to answer.

It wasn’t like I could call up Flimsy and ask her if she’d had this conversation with her kid yet. Homegirl was literally dead. Her sticker-covered urn was in my living room, and I didn’t own an Ouija board. Her only offspring/living relative I knew about, Moose, was smart and I often couldn’t tell if she was just testing me or not. It’s degrading when a five year old makes you feel like an idiot and I often tried to avoid it. But this time she was looking at me so innocently that I genuinely did not know if this was a trap.

What was I supposed to say?

My mom swore - even to this day - that Santa was real. My mom also smoked anything that could burn for a large part of my childhood and I was a bit more of a realist than she was, so I’d never fully been convinced. I think that she’d wanted for there to be some sort of stability in my nomadic upbringing and there’s nothing more constant than an old, fat, white man always knowing where you are.

Santa was supposed to be fun though, right? And Moose had had a shitty year. Like, she’d lost her mom and was now living with someone not even related to her. She deserved to have a good time; there was no reason for me to swoop in and crush her childlike wonder.

“Yes, Moose, there is a Santa Claus.”

Once the words left my mouth, I knew that I was fucked. I was now officially #n2deep and there was no backing out.

Moose immediately jumped in for the contradiction. I should have kept my big-ass mouth shut. “I know that Mall Santa isn’t real because there’s Santas at every mall ‘n I’m smart enough to know that you can’t be in multiple places at once.”

Honestly, wouldn’t it really have killed Flimsy if she’d given birth to a dumb child?

And did I really need to have phrased it like that?

“Those are fake Santas, you’re correct. The real one’s at the North Pole getting stuff ready for Christmas.” The lie wasn’t effortless, but there wasn’t much hesitation. It should’ve been enough to hold her over until something else captured her attention. Really, the only thing that prevented me from routinely fucking up everything I said was how Moose would move on before the words would even leave my mouth.

But, for some reason, she wasn’t willing to drop the Santa thing. I swear, the kid had never given a flying fuck about Santa her entire life, and now she was apparently gearing up to write a fucking tell-all.

“Can I meet him?”

Moose had essentially just asked me to square the fuck up.

“Yeah. But not right now. He’s super busy this time of year,” I replied quickly. Game, set, match, little twerp!

“When will he not be busy?” Damn, bitch was straight-up about to interrogate me.

“Um… the summer, probably. Less busy then. Better hours,” I nodded at her. It’s fun knowing you’re going to go to hell solely because of the lies you’ve told a semi-innocent demon-child.

Moose’s mouth fell into the perfect frown. Like, a literal upside-down U. Her eyes got super wide, like a bush baby on speed. And they got all watery too. Moose didn’t cry… ever, so I wasn’t sure why the Santa thing was fucking with her so bad. Of course, there was the chance she was doing this on purpose and was totally fucking with me. The kid was crafty: she’d been in the principal’s office multiple times for all of the fast ones she’d pulled on the lil dummies she went to school with.

“It’s not that deep, dude. He keeps a low profile. Do you wanna get donuts?” I tried to steer the conversation back towards safer grounds.

Her frown immediately switched back into a smile. “Yes!”

Victory!

“But all I want for Christmas is to meet the reaaaalll Santa,” she drawled out, staring me dead in the eye. Terrified shivers slithered down my spine. “That’s alllll I want.”

Well, fuck.

I called an emergency meeting at Harry’s house. The emergency meeting could’ve been held at my house, but Harry’s house has more food and better central heating. So even though it was pretty out of the way for all of the people at said emergency meeting to meet there instead of my place, at least the payoff in their end was much better.

“Why are you always here?” Harry asked me as I shoved a holiday cookie in my mouth.

“Your mom sent you cookies,” I told him through the cookie that I was demolishing.

“Why are you opening my mail?”

“Um, we’re related, so that’s technically okay now.” I mean, it was. “Do you think that she’d send me some if you asked her? Like, I’m not her daughter, but I’m still kind of like her daughter.”

Harry couldn’t complain anymore because that was the moment that the rest of the guys and Ella showed up. Ella was the only one of them that Harry was happy to see, which was a bit rude, but I also couldn’t complain anymore because I was about to draft all of them to help me out with my problem.

“Am I missing something?” Harry looked at me. Okay, so maybe he was going to complain some more. Whatever; I’m fine with that.

“It’s about Moose,” I said, waving the guys over so that they too could enjoy the cookies that Harry’s mom had made. Sharing (other people’s food) is caring.

The mention of Moose’s name made everyone stop and pay attention to me. I mean, no one gave a fuck about me or my issues, but they all cared greatly for Moose. I understood that; even though the little grub was generally annoying as hell, she’d remained relatively untainted by the horrors of aging.

Once I finished basking in how I was the sole center of attention, I finally told them why we’d all gathered together. “She’s never had a Christmas without her mom. Or, at least, I’m assuming that she’s never had one without Flimsy. And now Flimsy is dead, so she’s definitely not having another Christmas with her. So we need to go balls to the fucking wall to make sure that this is the best damn Christmas that Moose has ever had.”

“What did you do?” Harry glared. It was kind of rude for him to automatically assume I’d fucked something up, but if I were Harry then I’d totally automatically assume I’d fucked something up. Because, like, I had fucked something up. I had to pull a real-life Santa Claus out of my own ass.

“I just want to give Moose the best Christmas possible,” I blinked innocently.

No one bought it.

Like, at all.

Like, they were literally folding their arms over their chests and staring me down.

Which, like, yes, I was being fake as hell. But my doe-eyed approach typically had a high success rate. I wasn’t sure why it wasn’t working on the people who knew me best. It wasn’t like I ever used that face on them.

“And there’s one more thing,” I added on quickly. Now that my jig was essentially up, I went back to my normal face before I broke the bad news. “I told Moose that Santa’s real and that means we need to prove to her that Santa is real.”

Everyone went quiet.

“She’s… she’s too smart to believe a fake Santa costume,” Niall said slowly.

“Moose is the girl who would tell the other kids on the playground why Santa is illogical,” Ella chimed in. Like, thanks, girl, for showing me how hard this was going to be. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that Moose told one of my brothers that Santa wasn’t real.”

“Why do you have so many brothers?” Niall asked.

“How many brothers do you have?” That was Louis.

“Too many. Back to the Santa issue!” I clapped my hands together before Harry could ask Ella if he could meet her hoard of siblings. I wasn’t sure where their relationship stood at that point, and even though I wanted to somehow know both everything and nothing at the same time, it wasn’t the time. “What are we going to do?”

“Tell her the truth?” Harry Styles, Santa Slayer deadpanned.

“Damn, you’re really no fun, are you?”

“I’m sorry, did no one ever introduce reality to you?” Harry sneered.

“How many lumps of coal did you have to get before you could turn it into that charcoal toothpaste you have in your bathroom?” I shot back. For the second time that day, game, set, and fucking match.

“Verity’s mom convinced me that Santa’s real,” Niall interrupted with complete and utter seriousness.

My mom loved telling people Santa was real, and it was one of the most embarrassing things about her. Like, more embarrassing than how she had me before she was legally able to drive, and also more embarrassing than how she chose to procreate with the unsalted baked potato that was Des. I never talked about the Santa thing with anyone because there was no cool, kitschy way to make it not seem totally fucking weird. It was supposed to follow my family to the grave, where it could then potentially be murdered for a second time, just to ensure it’d never have to be brought up in the future.

Damn it, Veronica. Couldn’t you just stay in your place, wherever that was?

I immediately jumped in to do damage control, but there’s only so much you can do when you know your mom’s already given the full spiel to your incredibly naive best friend. “When did the two of you ever talk about Santa in the first place?” When was Niall hanging around my mom when I wasn’t there? I mean, I knew that it’d happened before, but what the fuck? Normally he told me every single detail because he enjoyed comparing me to my mother, which was another annoyance of mine.

“Veronica and I go way back, Verity,” Niall replied like that meant anything to me.

“We go way back too! She’s my mom!”

“I argue with Verity enough on my own; I don’t need to hear the two of you fight either,” Harry interrupted us, probably because he was feeling left out and he can only survive for mere minutes when all of the attention isn’t on him. “Can you get back to the purpose of this meeting? I have things to do.”

Harry didn’t have anything to do, and if he did then it was something lame that he was better off missing than attending. The dude is really not interesting.

“Help me show Moose that Santa’s real,” I insisted. “Please. All of you. That’s all I ask.”

“You want us to trick the trickster?” Louis asked. “Sounds pretty fucking impossible.”

“A Christmas miracle,” I leveraged.

“Miracles and Santa,” Harry snorted. Seriously, who hurt him? Was he really naturally that awful? “Must be nice having your head so far up in the clouds.”

“Chill out, Krampus,” I rolled my eyes at him. “So, are we in or are we in? I’m only acting like I’m giving you options here; I’ve built an entire lifestyle out of forcing people into doing what I want them to, so there’s really no out as long as I know where you all live.”

“Make your existence sound less illegal,” Ella scolded me. Hm, maybe her and Harry had more in common than I thought.

“I will help you,” Niall, the man of the hour/someone who contractually had to agree to all of my plans (it’s what happens when both of you are reckless; you always have to go along with the other person), insisted. “But do you have a plan?”

Psh.

Hell no, I didn’t have a plan.

“I’m working on it,” I told the room. “And it’s definitely going to work.”

Liam hadn’t been at the emergency meeting because he had to work or whatever. I couldn’t penalize him for having an actual, non-boring job, but it sucked having to recap the entire afternoon to him. I mean, yeah, it only took a few seconds, but those seconds could’ve been spent doing other things, like wallowing in self-pity.

Moose had been propped in front of the television with a giant stash of dinosaur nuggets and a vault of apple juice, watching some annoying animated shit that I would never agree to watch with her. She was in her ~zone~, so I knew she wouldn’t do anything too terrible for a couple hours. I was counting on her to be chill long enough for me to formulate an actual plan, since no one from that afternoon had contributed anything even remotely useful. Honestly, what’s the point of having friends if they can’t solve all of your problems for you?

While Moose was having the time of her kindergarten life, Liam and I were holed up in my room like we were in one of those emergency bunkers that doomsday preppers build. We weren’t coming up for air until I had Santa on lock.

“Why are we hiding from Moose?” Unfortunately, the guy I was banging wasn’t entirely caught up with the crisis mode lifestyle adjustments.

Liam knew I wasn’t about to fuck him because of my strict no-penetration-while-the-child-was-in-the-apartment rule, but I typically didn’t sequester her alone in a room.

“Did you not read the messages?” I asked him. Like, there was literally a fucking group chat made specifically for this event.

“There were 47 of them and the last eight of them are between Ella and Niall talking about the best kinds of frosting to use on Christmas Tree cookies. I figured it wasn’t important,” he shrugged. “Why? Is something wrong with Moose? Does she have the chicken pox or something?”

“Worse,” I shook my head sadly.

Liam looked at me blankly. “You aren’t about to make me guess, are you?”

“No,” I told him and he let out a sigh of relief. “But it really is awful. The only thing Moose wants for Christmas is to meet Santa. The real Santa. None of that mall shit.”

It took Liam a few moments to realize I was being serious. I mean, I was also being dramatic, and he knew that, but there were overall serious tones in the room. Once he figured it out, he spent a few more seconds trying to figure out what he wanted to say.

“This… this doesn’t have to be hard, Ver. There are probably hundreds of Santas you can rent out this time of year. Just hire one of those,” Liam came through quick with the rational response I could’ve used hours ago. “Feed them some facts about her ahead of time so she seems surprised. Parents do this all the time.”

“But it’s Moose,” I stressed, gliding over the fact that I was technically a ‘parent’ in this situation. Like, where had the fucking time gone? “She’ll tear all of those imposters apart. I need the most genuine Santa I can find.”

Liam sighed, falling back on my bed. I’m glad he was calm enough to sleep at a time like this. “Can’t you just ask your mom? This seems like something she’d know how to solve.”

“I’m trying to not ask her for things. You don’t understand how weird she gets about Santa; I’d rather not have to fight with her about this again.” I may have shuddered at the thought, but deep down I knew I would have to consult The Expert sooner rather than later.

Liam pulled me down so that I was resting on top of him. If I wasn’t about to have the stress-induced anxiety attack of a lifetime, I totally would’ve made out with him. But my libido had been shot. “I know you don’t want to talk to her, Ver, but seriously? Who else is better equipped to handle this shit than her?”

“A psychiatrist? Google?” I tried.

“Stop being so difficult, dude, and just ask her.”

It was my turn to let out a deep sigh. “Ugh. I wish she had chicken pox instead of this shit.”

Veronica Clare was my mother, not my sworn enemy. Her and I were super close; probably a lot closer than we should be. But that didn’t mean that I wanted her help with this. I wanted to do everything on my own.

Unfortunately, I knew how much this meant to Moose, and I also knew how often I messed things up.

I had to concede.

Finding my mom was easy because a) she’s my mom and b) she typically had a phone on her ever since she married Clive the Guacamole Guy (he made good guac; his actual job title had nothing to do with food) and became a regular member of society. Clive made enough money for Veronica to keep with her normal busker lifestyle, so while he was doing his shit as an art dealer, my mom… made art?

Anyway, I kicked into her studio like the hellforce that I was, ready sign my soul away in order to help a potentially troubled youth. Like, let’s not pretend like Moose wasn’t going to go through some #phases. I mean, with me as her legal guardian? I went through a phase an hour and both of my parents were still living.

“I need your help,” I announced. No need to beat around the bush!

My mom wiped her paint-colored hands off with a towel as she practically floated her way over to me. Bitch was ethereal, I’d give here that. “With what, petal?”

“I need for Santa to meet Moose.” Wow, it just finds a way to sound even dumber each time I said it out loud.

My mother, to her credit, didn’t flinch. Like, at all. She was almost too calm, if you know what I mean. In fairness, she’d probably been waiting for this day since I was a child. The only man I’d ever even kind of wanted to meet was my biological father (imagine my disappointment when I found it was just Des’ old baldin’ ass), so Santa never held any appeal to me. He, much like my father for all those years, was just another mythological being. Like, at least my dad paid taxes.

“I’ve been waiting for this day!” my mom cried out with outstretched arms. See? I told you. The bitch loved Santa.

“Please sound a little less excited,” I replied with a slight frown. I knew what was coming next. Things were going to take a turn for the worse.

“Well, I happen to know Santa!” she exclaimed in a concerningly non-joking manner.

Ah, yes, the worse was here.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Oh, petal, quit being such a non-believer! Who do you think gave you all those Christmas presents when you were young? We were poor; you know I couldn’t get you all of them.”

“They came from homeless shelters and charities. I was one of those kids who’s name was on a little tag on a tree. People would pick it off and buy me presents and then drop them off and there we go.” Just because I wasn’t the smartest person on the planet, it didn’t mean I didn’t know how being both poor and a child worked.

Veronica gave me soft smile, reaching out and playing with the ends of my hair. “Oh, petal, no. That never happened.”

“It did, though.”

“Okay, it happened, but that’s not where all of the gifts came from. Some came from Santa, I swear.”

I could’ve argued to have my mother institutionalized, but I didn’t know if that would actually help anything. Like, was there any point in me trying to convince her otherwise? Clive probably knew about her weird Santa thing and he married her anyway, so I guess this wasn’t a controversial issue for everyone. To me, it was plain-fucking weird, but maybe this was the universe’s way of presenting me with a solution to my problem.

“Well, can you get Santa to meet Moose? It’s urgent.”

Not a second passed.

“Sure, Petal. I can see if he can swing by my holiday party this weekend. You and your friends are coming, right? Santa will only be able to stay for a couple minutes and he probably won’t be able to bring any of the elaborate gifts because it’s so close to Christmas and all, but he’ll probably have activity books. Moose still likes those, right?” She said in one breath as she fluttered around her studio.

I stared at her, my mouth slightly open. Like, I didn’t think she was going to commit this hard. The things Clare women will do for a bit, I guess.

“I, uh, yeah, sure. We’ll all be there.” Was I supposed to thank her? I think I was supposed to thank her. I mean, in the odd chance she actually had a convincing Santa come through and not ruin Christmas for an innocent child.

A weird thing had happened where even though I knew Moose wasn’t my child and I had no reason to, like, care all that much about how she acted-slash-looked, ever since she’d been shacking up in my apartment, I felt like I had to make sure she was on her best behavior and looked at least kind of okay. Not, like, great or anything, since I’m literally a blood relative of Harry Styles: World’s Worst Dresser, but good enough for someone to not call CPS every time the kid walked into a room.

I didn’t want to enforce gender roles on her and shove her in a dress, but the only decent thing she had was a dress, so I wrestled her into one before brushing her hair and making sure there wasn’t dirt in her teeth or whatever gross things kids acquire.

I looked… okay…, which was good enough for me.

“Is Santa going to be here?” Moose asked. Yet again, I couldn’t tell if she was testing me or not.

“If everything goes the way it should, then yes, you should be meeting Santa soon.” Was I not playing it cool enough? Veronica was reliable enough (she managed to keep me alive and out of jail), but, like, this was fucking Santa we were talking about. Could she work that one?

Moose looked up at Liam, who was riding over to my mom’s with us. “Will Santa be there?” Um, what the hell, bitch, wasn’t I all the validation you needed?

“Of course!” Liam smiled without hesitation. He was able to do that because he didn’t have to live with Moose, so he wouldn’t have to hear the inevitable fallout when she found out Santa wasn’t real.

The kid rode that high all the way to Veronica(and Clive and Raf)’s house. Meanwhile, I wondered if this was going to be the panic attack that finally took me out. I knew the situation wasn’t, like, dire whatsoever, but this somehow felt more daunting than signing the guardianship papers that allowed me to have legal responsibility of Moose. I started stress-squeezing Liam’s hand with such ferocity that he started pretending he needed both of his hands to fake-text people on his phone. Well played.

Moose immediately went on alert mode the second we stepped into Veronica’s place. She was keeping her eyes peeled for Santa. She looked like a damn meerkat. Moose was so ready to throw down that she literally stopped talking to Liam mid-sentence so that she could begin her hunt. What had I created?

“Wait!” I grabbed Moose’s arm before she could go and do whatever the hell it was kids do at someone else’s house. I pulled her close to me so that I could hiss threatening messages into her ear. “Keep your Santa propaganda to yourself,” I whispered to her. I didn’t want for her to hype up all of the other kids just to have them all get their lives ruined. Like, that would suck for literally everyone.

The gremlin shot me an annoyed look but nodded. I’d trained her well.

“Now, be free,” I commanded, letting go of her arm.

Moose tore off like a rocket so that she could wreak havoc upon people who didn’t have to speak to her on a regular basis.

“Relax, Ver, it’ll be fine,” Liam assured me before my step-sister swooped in so that she could tell Liam something wildly uninteresting. It wasn’t her fault it was boring; there’s just nothing interesting about being fifteen.

For the next twenty minutes, I forgot about the Moose-and-Santa thing. I was at my mom’s house with some of my best friends, so I logically wasn’t going to spend all of my time worrying about a malleable five year old. Like, I was a full nogg-and-a-half in before I realized I’d been stressed out all week about this party, and now Moose was nowhere to be found. I didn’t care about all the work I’d put into this (stop: I did some work). Santa whom? I wasn’t even worried about where she was. She could’ve been playing in traffic and I was so at ease that I would’ve just told her to not get her dress yet. And, knowing her, she probably really was playing in traffic. I was never going to see here again.

That is, until she barrelled directly into my legs.

I literally doubled over because Moose had almost taken out both of my kneecaps in one foul swoop.

“He knew my name!” she whispered excitedly. “Santa knows my name!”

“Moose?” Like, that was all we’d been calling her since… forever? I didn’t even know Moose’s real name until she showed up at my house. Even at that party, she was getting introduced as Moose.

“Maisie!” she shrieked. “He knew my name was Maisie! I never tell anyone that!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that both my mother and the entire New York Public Schools System had direct access to her real name. I was just happy she was going with this whole Santa thing.

“That’s… that’s great, dude!” I smiled at her. Huh, I guess my mom really had pulled this off. The bitch was good at what she did.

“He also said that he would bring you gifts every year, ‘n that sometimes you wouldn’t really believe it ‘cause you’d get presents from nice people -- charity… oh, that rhymes with Verity! -- oh, um, he said that you’d get presents from charity, but even when the charities couldn’t find you tha- that he’d still bring you gifts.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

Moose kept ramblin’ on, havin’ a good-ass time. “Yeahhhh, because one time you moved right before Christmas ‘n there wasn’t enough time for you to get on a present list but Santa still came and brought you presents anyway because he didn’t want for you to not get anything ‘cause he knew your mommy couldn’t buy stuff!”

I stared at her.

“Man, I love Christmas, Variety!” she said with a happy sigh, slapping me on the arm and skipping off to go become an evangelical Santa fan.

I was so in shock by her a) knowing about my time as an impoverished youth and b) her somehow gaining this information by a man named as Santa that I didn’t even have the chance to make a scene and scold her for calling me ‘Variety.’ Like, I didn’t call her ‘Maisie’; she could extend the same courtesy towards me.

“Why do you look like you’ve just found out we’re related for the first time?” I think Harry was making a joke, but since he’d never intentionally said anything funny in his entire life, I couldn’t be too sure.

He did, however, seem a little too smug. I mean, yeah, that was just how his face looked a lot of the time, but in this situation, it meant a lot more. I yanked his arm and dragged him to the corner of the room, away from all the festivities taking place around us. It was about to be a damn interrogation up in this bitch.

“Was that you in the Santa costume?” I hadn’t noticed him in the room (I hadn’t even noticed him at the party, tee bee aych. The guy can best be described as the word ‘beige’ come to life.), but that would’ve given him ample opportunity to slide off and do this little stint. Niall was nowhere smooth enough to pull this off, Louis couldn’t hide his accent to save his life, Zayn hated me/wasn’t even invited, and Liam was too hot to ever dress up as Santa, and it was clearly someone I knew.

Harry played dumb. I hate calling him smart, but he was smart enough to know when to play dumb. Rather unconvincingly, if I might add. Acting was definitely not this kid’s forte. “Why would I have been in a Santa costume?”

“Well someone had to be inside of it!”

“Yeah, and that someone doesn’t have to have been me,” he scoffed. “It’s not me!” he insisted as I continued glaring. “Verity, I swear, that wasn’t me.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“You don’t have to believe me! But it doesn’t change how it still wasn’t me!” He was getting annoyed now. “I don’t even believe in Santa; why would I want for Moose to believe in something just as fake?” he grumbled.

“Damn, Scrooge McDuck, what’s so bad about having a little fun?” I smirked at him. “Come on, just admit that your alter ego wanted to help me out some and then we can move on.”

My brother didn’t see the fun in this. “Would you stop? I already said it wasn’t me! I never even saw someone dressed like Santa even walk in here! God, you and your mom just never know when to quit!” he threw his hands up in exasperation before stomping off, probably grumbling insults about me to himself.

“Wait! If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” I called after him

Harry glared at me over his shoulder, still walking away. Homie didn’t even have the decency to stop in his tracks. “I guess Santa’s fucking real after all!”

#technically i wrote this last year #and just added random sentences this year #since it was a part of the series i never fully posted #anyway if yall remember et al then youll probs appreciate this more than if u dont know what et al is #poddywrites #also the italics didnt copy so yallre on your own #tryna figure out what i italicized #hint: its p much every other word

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rambunctiousreader · 7 years

Text

Topics I just need to touch on from Lord of Shadows (MAJOR SPOILER ALERT)

Emma and Julian

- I’m really glad their friendship went back to normal after some time. The distance between them was unlike them at all and I hated it. I know it was necessary because they both had to process how things had changed between them, but that doesn’t mean I liked reading it.

- Okay so I think the curse is seriously coming into play here. Cassie never outwardly says that the curse is already occurring, but she drops multiple hints throughout the book. For one, all of a sudden, Emma and Julian can communicate telepathically. I don’t know but I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen. Also, um, they caught a STONE building on fire?! Stone? All-powerful runes? Ring a bell?????

- During the church scene and many, many other scenes, there’s so much sexual tension between Emma and Julian. Literally. I think there’s more in LOS than LM because at this point they’ve had sex and seen that intimate side of each other. At this point, they both have privately acknowledged that they are in love with the other. I think that plays a huge role in their relationship and how it has evolved since Lady Midnight.

- That huge fight that they had when they were staying at Malcolm’s cottage literally broke me. I was on the verge of crying while reading that. I’m just glad that it didn’t take long for them to make up.

- Their conversation about the Shadowhunter family mottos BAHAHAHAHA

- This is their second sex scene and honestly I loved it so much. It was so perfect. I almost burst into tears crying when Emma admitted to Julian that she’d been lying about her relationship with Mark.

- Emma still hasn’t told Julian that she loves him and I keep wondering if this is an important detail that will be used in QoAaD. Am I the only one who noticed this?

Diana Wrayburn

- It’s not like I hated Diana in Lady Midnight, I just didn’t know her very well and didn’t see the depth of her character. Once I read her backstory, I grew to love her. She is such a strong person and honestly I just want to be her best friend.

- Diana and Gwyn? Um, can you say hella cute couple?

- Once Cassie told us that there would be a transgender character reveal in Lord of Shadows, I knew from the start that it would be Diana. In Lady Midnight, it talks about how she has lots of secrets and a dark past. We knew that she’d been through a lot, so it wasn’t a huge surprise for me, but still a monumental moment in the book nonetheless.

- Summed up into four words, I can say “I love Diana Wrayburn!”

Kit Herondale

- From the moment we found out in Lady Midnight that Kit is the Lost Herondale, I knew that he would be an interesting character to read about. I was not disappointed.

- It’s truly heartwarming to watch Kit grow from a person who is denying himself as a Shadowhunter and the culture of the Shadowhunters to fully embracing it and finding a home with the Blackthorns. That scene where they’re fighting the Seven Riders and Ethna (or whatever her name is) is about to kill him and he’s all like “I’m Christopher Herondale.” I just loved that and I almost cried.

- At this point, I still don’t really know where his relationship with Ty will lead. I know for sure it will be either a romantic relationship or a parabatai relationship, and I’m perfectly fine with whichever. For me, it’s hard to tell right now. Cassie has a habit of pulling large plot twists on us, and I don’t know what to think. All I do know is that I like Kit and Ty as friend or lovers. I think they compliment each other very well and are so cute. (The Sherlock and Watson comparisons?! Cute af!)

Julian Blackthorn

- I’m honestly so scared for Julian and I have two main theories for him. Neither of them are happy. He’s either going to literally go off the deep end and go full evil and be really bad or he’s not going to survive to the end of the series. Like I said, I don’t really like either option.

- Julian’s hidden ruthlessness is touched upon several times in LOS like in LM. This is NOT coincidental and Cassie is foreshadowing. His ruthless nature and his undying will to protect those he loves will play a major role in the plot of QoAaD, I’m sure.

- I don’t even want to think about how Livvy’s death will affect his family, but especially Julian. He’d devoted his life, time, and heart to protecting his family and doing whatever it takes to keep them alive and safe. He’s failed to do that. Because of Livvy’s death, he will blame himself and I feel like it will really push him over the edge.

- There is this undeniable dark Julian that we all know exists. Few of us actually acknowledge that this is a part of Julian because we don’t want to imagine our baby Julian like that. Our baby Julian, who has been in love with Emma for god knows how long. Our baby Julian who ran an Institute when he was twelve, killed his own father, who became parabatai with Emma even when he knew he was in love with her because he didn’t want to lose her. Jules, Julian, who paints her in secret, who hides his feelings for her. He is an incredibly selfless person and I feel like that it could seriously be his downfall and weakness ironically.

- Basically, I think that tough times are in the forecast for Julian Blackthorn. :(

Five Main Character Deaths

- Jon Cartwright: I was really surprised about his death and didn’t see it coming. I was just a lil sad but overall it wasn’t that bad. I will miss him though. I hope Marisol will be okay.

- Arthur Blackthorn: I was also very surprised about this death. In Lady Midnight, Arthur is written as this insane, depressed, and sad individual. We don’t like him because he was supposed to run the Institute, not Julian. In the last few pages of his life, he was completely lucid and actively gave up his life to save the younger Blackthorns. I was very taken aback and thought it was very honorable. It instantly redeemed his character for me. I was sad to see him go.

- Malcolm Fade: I never really believed he was dead tbh. I actually laughed when he truly died. Literally, this dude spends 200+ years dedicating his life to bringing a girl back from the dead, and when he does she just kills him?!?! I died it was actually really funny. I realize how sick that sounds and I’m sorry but it was so funny.

- Robert Lightwood: Never did I think a character from another series would be killed off. I set myself up for sadness when I assumed that. I was very sad when Robert died; not only was he Emma and Julian’s only hope to fix things between them, but he was also just mending his relationship with his children and it broke my heart when Alec was calling for his dad. I can’t remember exactly, the last few pages of LOS were a blur of tears and emotions and words and I’m pretty sure I started crying when Alec was calling “Dad, please, dad.”

- Livvy Blackthorn: Oh my god. Oh my god. Livvy’s death caught me by complete surprise and it crushed me. Livvy had so much ahead of her. She’d found out that Julian had been the one that had taken care of all of the younger Blackthorns since the Dark War, and she’d wanted to be like him. She’d kissed Julian on the forehead. It was so cute and it warmed my heart. SHE NEVER GOT TO RUN AN INSTITUTE. All Livvy wanted was for her family to be together and when Helen and Mark finally came back and everyone was together, she died. She never got to see her family reunite, and I think that’s the saddest part. I truly will miss Livvy. And when the clock rang? Oh my god, I was a hot mess. There are dried tears on the last two pages of LOS. I cried myself to sleep that night when I finished it.

Side note on Livvy’s death: maybe this is a grieving me just searching for a way to bring Livvy back but there was a quote in either Lady Midnight or Lord of Shadows (I think its LOS) and one of the characters (I think a faerie or something) is like “Oh, how foolish of u to regard death as something so final.” Will this tie into Livvy’s death? WILL LIVVY COME BACK?

Characters I Literally Cannot Deal With

- Jaime Rosales (taking advantage of Dru like wtf)

- Annabel Blackthorn (she fucking killed Livvy and Robert ugh)

- Zara Dearborn (I don’t really need to explain this, do I?)

- The Cohort (see above)

Characters I Didn’t Pay Much Attention to Before but Now I Like Them

- Mark Blackthorn (sweet bby oml)

- Kieran (ur not as bad as I thought, pal)

- Diana Wrayburn (I explained above. Never hated her or anything, just didn’t know her)

- Gwyn ap Nudd (PROTECT THIS ACTUAL TEDDY BEAR OML)

- Dru Blackthorn (don’t make her babysit plz)

- Ty and Livvy (I have a twin and I wish he was like Ty lol)

Emma Carstairs

- hot mess of angst and emotions throughout the book (as expected)

- Julian Blackthorn Julian Blackthorn Julian Blackthorn Julian Blackthorn

- She slayed one of the Seven Riders like holy crap girl ur a legend

- She and Julian had sex again. Have I talked about this? Yes. It was amazing. I loved it. I enjoyed every second of it.

- I love how whenever someone does anything mean or says something bad about the Blackthorns, Emma freaking goes apeshit on them

- When Emma made Diego stand in the antpile.... OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS GIRL

- She’s so sassy and I love her sass. Did I mention I love her sass.

Further comments

- WHAT THE FUCK IS THE DEAL WITH CORTANA BREAKING THE MORTAL SWORD. WHAT THE FUCK. I NEED ANSWERS.

- will Emma and Julian seriously ever get rid of the parabatai bond

- how will Livvy’s death affect her family

- when will Mark, Cristina, and Kieran have their eventual threesome I need to know

- how the fuck is Bridget still alive

- ALL OF THE TID REFERENCES WHILE THEY WERE IN LONDON AHHHH MY HEART

- what is happening to the warlocks oh my god don’t touch my Tessa and don’t touch my Magnus

- is Ragnor alive or nah

- what is the history of the Black Volume

- Clary better not die or I fucking s2g

#the dark artifices #lady midnight #lord of shadows #rant #spoilers #cassie clare

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runningwitches · 7 years

Text

The Girl Who Cried Fanfic (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: When your family is desensitized to your screams, because they usually just meant you were reading a fluffy fanfiction, the hero you’ve been reading about is the one who saves you in a time of actual danger.

Word Count: 3228

Requested: Nope

A/N: Second fic on tumblr ever, first ever Peter Parker. I had this idea when my friend told me that she screamed at the fluff in one of my other fics, but that nobody in her house came to check on her. Jokingly, I called her “the girl who cried fanfic” and well, the rest is history.

You lay in your bed late at night, the only one awake in your small New York apartment. As you scrolled through your Tumblr, you saw a new post from your favorite account, a superhero fan account that loved hearing about the shenanigans the Avengers got into. Clicking on it, you saw this one was about Spider-Man.

Weird, you thought. Spider-Man isn’t really well known outside of Queens. Maybe you knew the owner of this account.

Pushing your thoughts of confusion aside, you began to read the authors note. “Hey guys! Normally I don’t write about this kind of stuff, but there’s this cool new hero in my neighborhood called Spider-Man, and I thought I’d try to write something about him, instead of the usual Avengers stuff.”

You began to think of who it could be. A fellow super-fan in your very neighborhood. Maybe even in attendance of your school. Well, no use worrying about it right now, is there? I’ll see if I can find out more about her later. For now, I’ll visit my my favorite hero.

As you read the story, you noticed a lot of familiarities. I mean, obviously the author is going to write in generic terms, they never know who’s going to end up reading it, but it seemed more familiar than most of the fics you read. The way the school description fit yours, and the neighborhood seemed eerily similar to your own. You really must’ve at least seen this girl around.

But you swept the awkwardness of the familiarity aside and continued to enjoy the story, allowing the odd details to make it more believable for yourself. When it got to a cute part, you couldn’t help but let out a yelp of joy. Spider-Man just took his mask off because he loved you! It was so exciting that even though it was simply a story on your phone, you let out a scream. An. Actual. Scream.

Your parents came running in, thinking you were hurt or that someone had broken in, but that wasn’t the case. When they saw your sheepish smile, and the apologetic look in your eyes, they sighed and closed your door, walking away, annoyed.

Returning to your story you made a mental note to not do that again. You typically could hold your fangirling inside, whisper-screaming into your pillow, or kicking your legs around to hide the fact that you were dying inside, but for some reason the thought of Spider-Man, your local hero, and your personal crush, revealing himself to you made you lose all control of your reasoning, and you screamed anyways.

After finishing the story, you debated messaging the girl behind the account to see if you knew her, or if she had seen Spider-Man in person before. You sure had.

I mean, you didn’t mean to, I don’t think anybody really does when they first meet him. You were just lucky, I suppose.

You were sat on the roof of your building, trying to get away from it all. The stress of school eating at you day in and day out. Yeah, you went to a school for science and technology, Midtown School of Science and Technology to be exact, but you weren’t gifted in these subjects. STEM just wasn’t your thing. You were a history, English, art, and dance kinda girl, and those classes seemed almost completely neglected at this school for geniuses (because for some reason you’re only a genius if you’re smart in a STEM field). Anyways, the stress of the world was coming down around you, school and personal life issues keeping you constantly on edge. As you sat on the edge, hoping for a relaxing escape, you heard a thud behind you.

Turning around you saw a man, nay, a boy in a red and blue spandex suit. An instant blush spread across your face as you realized that you were in the presence of a real life superhero, one of the people you had been longing to meet since you knew he existed. Staying sat where you were, you stared at the hero as he made his way over to you.

“Are you alright miss?” he asked, his voice full of concern, but with a certain familiarity to it.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but why are you here?” you asked, wondering what brought you two together.

“I saw someone sitting at the edge of the building, and I had to make sure you’re okay. I wouldn’t want anything happening to a beautiful girl like you, would I?” he told you, walking on eggshells, still unsure if you were truly alright. The real reason is because he was scared you were going to jump. He’s stopped multiple people from jumping recently, it seemed that a lot of people have been losing hope as of late.

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head, “I’m quite alright. Nothing to worry about here.”

“Okay, but can I ask you to step away from the edge there? It’s a bit concerning to see someone without amazing spider abilities that close to a long drop,” he confessed, with a little wiggle of his fingers when he said ‘amazing’.

“Yeah! Yeah, sorry to worry you Spider-Man, I know you’re busy. Didn’t mean to waste your time,” you told him, mumbling the last part.

“Hey now, you’re not wasting my time here! If anything, I’m wasting your time. You were just trying to enjoy the view, and I’m the one that interrupted you.”

“You? Wasting my time? That’s insane! You’re the hero here, I’m just some girl stressing about high school. You’re out here saving people’s lives everyday.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m just a kid under this mask too. Schools not everything, don’t work yourself up so much over it. And hey, if you really need help, maybe I could tutor you.” Despite the mask covering his face, you knew he was smirking.

That was two weeks ago, and now your crush on the superhero was even worse than before. I’m just a kid under this mask. The words kept repeating in your mind as you decided to send a message to the author.

“Hey! I’m a huge fan of your writing and I just read your story about Spider-Man! It’s so good! I’m actually from Queens too, so it’s pretty cool to see someone writing something about the guy. I’ve only run into him once, but I thought the way he was portrayed was perfect! I mean, really, spot-on, so great job! Hope to see more about him in the future!” You sent it, not expecting a response. That’s what usually happened when you messaged one of your favorite writers anyways.

You set your phone down, and prepared to fall asleep, but as you were laying there, you got a notification. She had messaged you back!

“hey! omg, im so glad u liked it, i was really proud of that one but i thought nobody would like it bc it’s not an avenger one. but you’ve met him! that’s insane! like so cool. i mean, im from queens but he probably doesn’t know i exist. o well haha”

As you figured out what to respond, you found yourself getting sleepier, so you put down your phone, resolving to respond tomorrow.

The next morning, you woke up late, rushing to get ready, and heading out of the house and off to school within 10 minutes. A new record, you were sure. As you got to chemistry, your first period class, you opened up your school issued laptop, and pulled up Tumblr. You really didn’t know why they hadn’t blocked it yet, but you weren’t complaining. You opened up your messages and started typing out your response.

“Oh boy, sorry I didn’t respond last night, I fell asleep. School stressing me out, you know? Anyways, here I am in my chemistry class, messaging you instead of doing my work. It’s really not a smart idea, but whatever.”

When you sent the message, you weren’t expecting an immediate response, but you got one.

“what?! no way! im in chem right now too! what a coincidence!”

Your first thought was, wow, this girl uses a lot of exclamation points, immediately followed by the thought that if this girl attended your school, which there was a high likelihood, she would be in the same class as you right now. You looked around for people either on their phone or laptop and only found two. Peter Parker, and (Y/F/N). There was no way it was Peter, that kid was an interesting guy, but you were positive that it was a girl on the other side of the screen. Then you looked at (Y/F/N), scrolling through tumblr, with a little box in the corner, probably your conversation. You smiled, and turned back to your computer, noticing that Peter was watching a video of Spider-Man fighting with the Avengers. Stifling a giggle, you went back to the chat box.

“Do you happen to go to Midtown? I know that’s a random question, but I’m sitting in my chemistry class and, well if you go here, then you’re probably sitting in the same room as me lol.”

As soon as you sent it, you saw (Y/F/N) looking around the room. You made eye contact and both smiled, before turning back to your laptops.

“(Y/N)! i didn’t know you were a hero fan! i mean, ik we don’t talk all that much, but that’s super cool! wait up for me after class i have to hear about your meeting with Spider-Man!!”

“Okay, sounds good!”

You both simultaneously closed your laptops, leaving the only one open Peter’s, still watching the video of Spider-Man. As the bell rang, you walked up to (Y/F/N) and started talking.

“Okay, (Y/N)!” She said, her cheery voice matching all of the exclamation points she used in text, “Tell me all about this spider guy, I need it for my writing!” As she said that, you saw Peter look at you guys, but thought nothing of it, he was a fan too, after all.

As you told her the story of how you met Spider-Man, Peter was behind you the whole time. The three of you shared the next class as well, so it wasn’t weird that he was walking in your same direction, it was weird, however, that he was significantly closer in proximity to the two of you, and clearly listening to you conversation. Once again you wrote it off as not being a big deal.

That night you returned home to a new post from your favorite account. Knowing that it was following the storyline you had come up with in English today, instead of reading, had you anticipating what was to come.

The author’s note read “Hey guys! So today I’m writing another Spider-Man one. I know those of you not from Queens (so most of you) probably don’t want to be reading these, so I’ll get back to my regular scheduled programming as soon as possible, but today I met @(your url) and we had some amazing ideas! Anyways, enjoy!”

You told yourself you were only allowed to read it once you had finished your homework, so you finished your homework as fast as you could, finishing by 11pm, another record, and set to reading. By that time, everybody else in your apartment had gone to sleep, so when you began to read and saw another fluffy part coming up, you resolved to not scream.

That didn’t happen.

Spider-Man had just saved you from yourself, and the demons in your head, sealing the deal with a kiss through the mask and people expected you not to scream? Impossible. So when your parents came running into your room again to make sure you were okay, and were once again met with a sheepish smile, they sighed at you and returned to bed.

As the days went on, you and (Y/F/N) became even closer, coming up with more ideas for stories and working together to find clues as to who your masked hero really was. As the days went on, you also noticed Peter getting more antsy, especially around you. The two of you weren’t friends per se, but you had talked before, and typically said the usual hellos and goodbyes, so when ‘hello’s were traded for shady glances, and ‘have a good day’s were swapped with concerned yet prying eyes, you became concerned too.

Two weeks later you went home and saw (Y/F/N)’s newest post. The fluffiest shit you have ever seen. I mean really. You couldn’t help but scream. After the incidents two weeks prior, your parents decided that your screams weren’t important, and laid there in bed, wondering what the fuck they did wrong (I’m just kidding that’s so mean omg).

One week after that you had resolved that Peter was Spider-Man. You hadn’t told (Y/F/N) the theory yet, because you wanted to gather more evidence, and if it really was Peter, he probably wouldn’t appreciate you going around and telling his secret.

You didn’t realize that that day was the second time you were to meet Spider-Man. You were laying in bed, no new fic today, and ready to sleep when you heard a rustling. Not thinking much of it, you laid there, until you heard someone climb in your opened window. You lived on the 5th floor of the building, nobody would really put that much effort into climbing the fire escape just to rob your shitty apartment, would they?

And then you realized that they weren’t there for money. They wanted something else. Something much worse, and so you let out a scream.

Of course, your parents didn’t come. They had been trained that your screams were a product of joy and not fear, so when they heard it, the both returned to sleep, not thinking of what could possibly be going on. Not thinking that someone unwanted was in the room with their daughter.

The man walked up to you and placed his hand over your mouth, preventing you from screaming again. “I’ve been watching you for a while now,” he said, his voice raspy and his breath vile, “wondering what a pretty girl like you was doing living in this part of the neighborhood. I guess I’ll have to find out.” Before you could even react (and you were going to react, you weren’t someone to just sit there and comply), you heard a familiar voice from right inside the window.

“Well, that’s no way to treat a lady, is it?” It was Spider-Man, your imaginary hero coming to save you in real life, again.

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy asked.

“You’re clearly not the brightest,” quipped Spider-Man, before he shot a web at the guy and pulled him towards the window, and away from you. Quickly tying him up in webs, he looked at you, “I’ll be right back, I promise,” and swung out the window. Coming back, his hands now free of the man he asked you “Are you alright, miss?” in the same way he did the first day you met.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Thank you though. If I had gone with my plan, it would have been a lot messier honestly. He probably would have ended up being shoved out the window,” you admitted with a laugh, still shaken from the events.

“Well hey, it still would have gotten the job done,” he offered, and you could hear the smile in his voice, even if you couldn’t see it.

“So how’d you know he’d be here?” you asked, curious. “I mean, I screamed and all, but I do that a lot, that’s why my parents didn’t come.”

“Wait? Your parents are here and they didn’t come running when they heard their daughter scream? That’s crazy!”

“I mean, I did say I scream a lot. Please don’t question it, it’s a long and embarrassing story.”

“Well now I’ve gotta question it. Sorry, but I don’t make the rules.”

“Ugh, fine, you win. I read a lot online. Like fluffy fanfiction and-stop judging me, I can see the judgment-”

“You can’t even see my face.”

“I know, but I can still feel the judgement, so stop.” He let out a chuckle. “Anyways, I read a lot of that, and sometimes it just overcomes my emotions and I scream. The first few times my parents came running in. They don’t anymore, obviously. But you never answered my question.”

“What do you read the fics about?” He sounded slightly mocking, as if he knew what the answer was, and if you were right about Peter being the man under the mask, he would know.

You tried to hide the blush on your face as you changed the subject. “You answer mine first, and I’ll think about telling you.”

“Well, I saw that guy coming out of an alley. He seemed really shady, so I followed him back. I’ve seen a few conflicts with him-nothing I’d ever had to get involved with-and so I knew he was trouble. He started climbing the fire escape and I didn’t do anything because I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. For all I knew he lost the key to his house and this was his only way in. Obviously my instincts were correct though, so when I heard a scream, I came in to save you.”

“Well, thank you. It really means a lot to me that you’d do that for me. Thank you.” The heat rushing to your face caused the redness to become even more prominent, and Spider-Man raised his eyebrow at that. Obviously you couldn’t see it, but it was happening.

When he sat on the edge of your bed, you were surprised. Weren’t heroes suppose to save you and run off. This wasn’t one of your dumb fanfictions, this was real life. What he was doing didn’t make any sense. You shook your head and pulled yourself back to reality, looking up at the spandex clad hero sat in front of you.

“How’re you doing? I know the last time we met, you were stressing out over school. Ever find a tutor?” he asked. He was serious, but ended it with a joke, trying to make sure you were comfortable.

“Oh, I’m doing okay, school is still my number one priority-”

“As it should be.”

“But I’m not overworking myself. I’ve been taking breaks, helping my friend brainstorm and writing some stuff instead of just wallowing in my own self pity.”

“That’s good,” he said, smiling at you from beneath the mask.

“You’re probably busy, you should head out.”

“Not much crime today,” he said with a shrug.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have stuff to do. You said it yourself, there’s just a kid under that mask. Go home, rest, talk with your family, finish your homework, sleep. There’s things to busy yourself with other than crime. You’re still just a kid, go live your life.”

He stood up and pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

As he let go and climbed out the window, swinging away, you didn’t even notice that he had never asked for your name.

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