#I might be a teensy bit obsessed with his hair

[legendary-pink-dot]

Bush Pilot

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x female reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving, and lots of it), fingering, semi-public sex, truck backseat shenanigans, seatbelts as restraints, established relationship, fetish/obsession for Frankie's hair, and a bit of masturbation (m)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: A drive to an isolated beach to watch the sunrise, some time to kill before dawn, soft aftermarket seatbelts, and Frankie's superior night vision.

Notes: No use of "Y/N". The inspiration for this one came from a line in my fic Airport Pickup. This fic took FOREVER to finish as I've had very limited writing time lately. Hope you enjoy it. All my love to my magic sluts/cheerleaders who don't have to hear my whining about this fic anymore yay: @imalrightllama @basicoccult @exquisiteserotonin @youandmeand5bucks @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38 @blueheat1-blog1 @redhotkitchen

You wake up to a bump in the road and an indigo sky. Not midnight dark anymore, but not quite twilight yet either. The dashboard clock reads 4:27 AM and you know it's correct because this is Frankie's truck, and everything about it has been meticulously maintained. Its owner is particular that way.

Frankie notices you stir and twines his hand into yours, resting it against your thigh, his fingers squeezing gently. "Hey, perfect timing. Almost there."

"Sorry, fell asleep. I hate mornings." You crack open the passenger window, breathing in the crisp pre-dawn air. A bracing whiff of ocean salt fills your senses as you start to rouse.

"I know. It'll be worth it, cariño, promise. The sunrises are amazing here."

Another 20 minutes on this quiet road -- nobody else out driving at this hour -- until Frankie slowly rolls the truck to a stop and parks. You get out and stretch your tired limbs.

No streetlights here, no moon, and the stars are mostly washed out at this hour, but you can hear the surf just steps away, lightly lapping at a shore that you can't see. You curse your crappy night vision, knowing that Frankie has the edge in seeing through dim lighting, with all the night flying and navigation he's done over his years in the service.

"We still have some time before the sunrise," Frankie says, giving you a hug and feeling you shiver. You sigh into his hug, and he rests his chin on the top of your head for a minute or two. "Come on, let's wait inside. I've got blankets in the back seat."

You both climb into the back seat of the truck, and he unfolds a crazy-looking 1970s-style afghan.

"Where did you get this thing? Standard military issue?"

"Don't be mean," Frankie laughs, wrapping the blanket around you both and snuggling in. "My abuela made it for me a long time ago."

"Does she know it's your truck sex blanket?"

Frankie shuffles closer, sliding a hand up your chest and around your neck to pull your face close. "I've never used it for that." He kisses a whisper against your mouth. "Yet."

As you make out, slow and sweet, Frankie presses you further into the corner of the seat until you feel something dig into your side. It's the shoulder seatbelt and as you push it out of the way, you're surprised at how soft and silky it feels, like some luxury fabric instead of an industrial strip of webbing, and you stroke it with your hand.

"Aftermarket belts," Frankie says, watching you with a pleased expression. "The stock ones were too scratchy and uncomfortable."

"Too scratchy? That sounds like a made-up problem."

Frankie smirks. "I like my passengers to be comfortable." He slides a hand slowly down your body, his knuckles gently tracing your curves, his palm coming to rest over your center, already heated from the make-out session. "Would you like me to make you more comfortable?"

"Mmmm, yes please," you purr, kissing him more forcefully this time, nipping his lips and searching for his tongue with yours. You find it, tangle with it, suck it into your mouth, so focused on the kiss that you don't even notice he's holding your forearm and has gently wrapped the webbing of the shoulder belt around it twice.

He pauses, breaking the kiss and allowing you a second to check what he's doing. "Is this okay?"

"Very okay," you breathe against his mouth, unsure exactly what he'll do to you once you're restrained but eager to find out. He'd discovered early on in your relationship that restraints were something you liked, and he loved to indulge you. "Keep going."

--click--

Frankie smiles as he slots the latch into the seatbelt buckle and locks it into place.

The webbing is soft against your skin, and a little loose when you give it an experimental tug. "Tighter," you rasp, excitement growing fast. He adjusts the tension with the built-in clip until it's perfect for you.

You snake your free hand into his hair, already desperate to touch what you can and desperate to get your mouth on his again. He allows you to tug on his curls as you kiss, but only for a moment. His hand grabs your free forearm, forcefully this time, and pins it to the back of the seat.

"None of that," he tuts gently, wrapping the other side's shoulder belt around it. "We came here to see the sunrise, remember? Don't have much time."

--click--

"But Frankie..." you whine, testing the pull of the seatbelts and finding no slack. "I wanna feel you."

What was the line between obsession and fetish? It was something you often wondered about. His hair, his medium-brown hair that loosely curled and held shimmering flecks of silver, drove you absolutely mad. Every time you met up the very first thing you did was bury your fingers in it, the tips of the curls spiky on your palms, feeding some sort of physiochemical need you couldn't name and didn't really care to. Not being able to sate that need in this moment made you physically ache.

The seatbelt was wrapped around your forearm with the intention to let you slip out of it easily enough if you had to. But did you want to? Cravings are strong, but the deliciousness of prolonging the ache even stronger, and at this moment you don't know which you want more. The anticipation never felt so good.

Frankie senses your turmoil. He sits back and makes eye contact in the growing light, and runs a hand slowly through his hair. He even plumps the curls at his nape and fluffs one long curl that's fallen over his forehead, smiling innocently. You know he can see your fingers twitching. Bastard.

"Something wrong, cariño?" he smirks, and you can't hold back a whimper as you feel yourself clench around absolutely nothing.

"Francisco, you're a fucking menace."

"I know, I know," he soothes. "And you love it, don't you?" He leans forward and shakes his hair right into your face, but before you can swear at him some more, his curls are gently stroking your collarbone that's naked and exposed by your low-cut sundress. You whimper again, this time a pathetically needy sound, and he takes pity on you and caresses his hair over your bound forearms and hands, the ache in your fingers abating from finally, finally reaching some kind of goal.

"There you go, that's it," croons Frankie, kissing your skin swelling out between the webbing, moving down your arm and up to your shoulder. "Just a taste for you. More later. I want mine now."

In a single movement he hikes up the hem of your sundress with one hand and lifts your hip, and slides the other hand down the back of your underwear to pull them down your legs and off. Gripping a bare ankle in each hand, he spreads your legs as wide as he knows is comfortable for you. You feel split open, exposed and excited, and he's barely touched you yet.

The light is so dim that his eyes are in shadow for you, but you know they're wide and dark as his gaze takes you in, his face so close to your center you can feel his breath on your inner thighs.

"Can you see enough to work down there?"

"Of course," says Frankie, sounding almost insulted as he gently shifts your hips to pull you closer to his mouth. "I'm used to flying before sunrise. You know, I can land almost anywhere, in any terrain, because..."

You groan, knowing what's coming. "No, please... no aviation jokes..."

"...I'm a certified bush pilot." He snickers into your thigh, kissing it hard to try to mask his laughter.

"Bush pilot, really? That better not be a complaint about my wild foliage or something."

One of the things he had made clear early in your relationship, in his quiet and unassuming way, was that your grooming habits and preferences were none of his damn business. A refreshing attitude after years of dating men who had lots of unsolicited and unwanted opinions about your pubic hair and how they wanted you to maintain it. As if it existed just for them. Fuck that. Frankie never tried to change you -- he simply adapted to whatever was. One of the reasons why you adored him.

"Oh no, cariño," Frankie's voice drops deep in that way you know he's genuinely serious. "I fucking love your bush." He lowers his face to your mound and gently tugs a few hairs between his teeth. You hiss at the prickly feeling, sharp but not painful, slipping into a loud cry as he dives his tongue deep into your entrance to eagerly prove his point.

You'd never been with someone who loved pussy eating as much as him. Maybe it mirrored your obsession-sorta-fetish for his hair. Impeccable sexual compatibility, you and Frankie.

It's different each time, and this extra-early morning he explores every fold with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, scratching the surfaces and then delving deeper. He doesn't even need to look up at you to know that your eyes are shut despite the dark and that you're lost in feeling.

Every change in your breathing, the tenor and pitch of your sighs and moans, the little wiggle of your hips when his tongue flicks here instead of there. Those are the cues he looks for and the only ones he needs, and he quickly takes you as high as you can go and stays with you all the way back down.

Frankie is relentless, barely giving you time to recover before latching back onto your clit, nudging you past your overstimulation, somehow knowing just how much extra you can take. He always knows.

You barely catch your breath before he's absolutely devouring you again, lightly capturing your folds between his teeth and exploring each one as if he's kissing your mouth for the first time, moving his head to approach your center from every possible angle from his confined position and adjusting his hold on your thighs to match.

He gently slides a thick finger inside you. The stretch is a lot, it always is with him, and he lets you adjust to it before adding a second finger, and presses them as far up as they'll go, his callused fingertips teasing the edge of your most sensitive spot.

Your hips start to move of their own accord but his free hand holds you down as he keeps his fingers inside you right where they are, demanding you concentrate on feeling the pressure and stretch instead of seeking motion.

From above he almost chews on your clit, which you never considered to be a thing you'd like but you are suddenly now forever feral for, and you wiggle your hips as much as you can, desperate to get him exactly where you need him most, giving only one fleeting thought to anyone else parked at the end of this road who might be hearing your loud moans right now.

With his tongue and his fingers he holds you in that sweet limbo state, your conscious mind wanting it to go on forever but your body craving release. You can't choose which one you want more, until you see the first rays of the sun peek out over the horizon and it distracts your mind just enough for your body to fall over the crest again, louder and more intense this time, gushing and squeezing and fluttering around his fingers until he slowly pulls them out.

You were so blissed out that you never noticed Frankie had been pressing and rubbing his crotch against the floor, the seat, whatever he could find while he was eating you out. The back seat of the truck is quickly filling with light and you watch him unzip his jeans just enough to pull out his cock, hard and leaking.

If you weren't so zoned out, if he just gave you a few minutes to recover, you'd be happy to help him, but he's too impatient and fucks his fist with sloppy motions. It's a hypnotic sight, the pinkish tip peeking out between his thick fingers and then disappearing for a second in a desperate rhythm, and you slide your hands free from the seatbelts just in time to grab his hair and give the curls a hard pull, seconds before he comes in hot spurts across your thighs and swollen cunt, choking out a cry that again made you glad he had brought you to this beach so early in the day.

Thankfully, he didn't get any on the blanket. You shake it out and wrap it around both of you as he snuggles up beside you on the seat.

"Good?"

"Good. Very good."

"Yeah."

Your breaths gradually slow as you watch the fireball in the sky inch higher, your hand mindlessly finding his hair and repeatedly twisting a curl around your finger.

The truck cab finally fills with full daylight, showing you an inviting and isolated strip of beach, and no other vehicles. Frankie was right -- it was worth getting up early for this sunrise. And it was amazing.

"Frankie?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Tell me more about what it takes to be a bush pilot."

[prettiestlovergirl]

SWEET

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; slytherin! reader; oral (f. receiving); hickeys; kitchen quickie; slightly sub! mattheo riddle; french! mattheo riddle.

concept: an afternoon of baking ends in you covered in a mess your boyfriend, mattheo riddle, is more than willing to help you clean up.

a/n: one of my lovely lovely anons helped me come up with this idea hehe. inspired by me, accidentally covering myself in edible glitter when baking. some idea credit to bratetteprincess who just recently did a latina! reader baking w/luke castellan fic! enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

everybody in your house knew that sunday mornings were for your baking.

after two years of begging and pleading with all of your professors, you were given permission to use the kitchens one day a week in order to bake to your hearts desire.

you always liked to experiment with new things. various dyes that stained your hands different shades, new flavors that made your hair smell for days, edible flowers that made you gag.

today, though, you might have gotten just a teensy tiny bit carried away with your current experiment: edible glitter.

you'd been desperately craving carrot cupcakes but after you'd made and decorated them, they just looked so... boring. after glancing around the blissfully empty kitchen, you spotted it: the silver edible glitter just begging to be used.

you pressed the pump once over the baking tray, watching happily as a cloud of glitter flew out and created a glittery sheen over the cream cheese frosting.

long story short, 15 minutes later your cupcakes were perfect and you were absolutely covered in edible glitter.

you'd been in the middle of sliding your pretty pink apron off when your boyfriend, mattheo, came in to bother check up on you. mattheo was practically fucking addicted to you.

he couldn't stand not being around you for more than an hour, and when he was with you? his hands were all over you, constantly touching, grabbing, rubbing, or squeezing some part of your body. not that you really minded, you were just as obsessed with him.

"wow, ma douce (my sweet), did an arts and crafts shop throw up on you?" he asked, his usual teasing smirk on lips as he wrapped his arm around you. he nuzzled his face into your neck, not caring about the glitter transferring to his clothes. "what are you even doing with glitter? thought you were baking." he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"it's edible glitter. my cupcakes looked so boring n i ran out of those carrot n bunny sprinkles i love so... i tried something new." you shrugged, sticking your lower lip out in a pout as you set your glitter covered apron down on the counter.

"edible, huh?" mattheo asked, eyes now locked on the shimmering skin above your collarbone. "mhm." you nodded, not paying much attention to your boyfriend as you attempted to try and clean up your mess.

you paused your actions as he leaned down and took a nice, long lick up from your collarbone to your jaw. you let out a soft gasp while he groaned instantly at the sugar taste, admiring how your skin shined now with both the glitter and his saliva.

"mattheo..." you breathed, your voice a soft whine as he drew his tongue back down. "mattheo, i have to clean up, it's part of my deal with the professors." you whined, trying to move from his grip that only seemed to tighten as you shifted.

he thrived on the sounds of your pretty little whimpers, already getting drunk on the one little taste he had of you. he'd never been so down bad for anyone before, but with you? he couldn't help but want to touch you, taste you, 24/7.

"we are cleaning up, ma douce (my sweet). 'm helping you clean up all this glitter first, you got a big clump right there." he murmured, pressing his lips to the skin and sucking harshly on it, drawing another whimper from your lips.

he sucked on the skin, drawing moan after moan out of you until he could see the beginnings of a pretty purple bruise. "there we go, all gone." he hummed, his hands finding their way up to your chest and squeezing your boobs gently.

you mewled softly as he squeezed, biting your lower lip as he kissed and sucked purple marks all over your neck. you squeezed your thighs together tightly, feeling the wetness pool in your panties.

normally, you'd be upset with the number of hickeys he left, but the way his lips moved in sync with his hands made you a little distracted.

he moved away from your neck, now kissing and swiping his tongue over the skin down your arms. he left the occasional bite mark as he moved, your fingers now digging into his scalp as your breathing got heavy.

"mm, mattheo, now you've got some glitter on you." you pouted, dipping your own head down to lick up the newly transferred glitter. you traced your name on his neck with your tongue, leaving your own series of hickeys on his neck.

"fuck." he groaned, hands still massaging your boobs over your clothes while you suck his neck and paint it varying shades of purple and green.

"you should use this glitter more often." he murmured, to which you simply nodded instantly. you grazed your teeth over his pulse point, giggling softly as he let out his own soft whine. "y'know, i think you've got some more glitter down further. hop up on the counter, yeah? want to check it out." he grunted.

you pushed the cooling rack holding your sparkly cupcakes to the side before lifting yourself up onto the counter. "really want to make sure we get it all off." mattheo hummed, lifting your ass up a bit and dragging your shorts and panties down your legs.

he knelt down before you, pressing a few soft kisses up both of your legs before being face to face with your drooling cunt. "ma douce, douce ange (my sweet, sweet angel)" he crooned, taking a long lick through your puffy folds and watching as your toes curled in pleasure.

"fuck, it's even sweeter than the glitter." he groaned, dipping his tongue right back into your pussy. your head lolled back, teeth trapping your lower lip roughly while your hand gripped the back of his head.

he pinched your clit between his teeth and his tongue before rubbing his tongue back and forth rapidly. he relished in the way your back arched and your moans got louder and louder.

you thanked god for the soundproofed kitchens as you bucked your hips against his face. "mattheo, fuck, mattheo!" you whimpered, his name sounding like heaven from your lips.

his tongue continued to work your sensitive clit as you moaned for more, begged for him to move faster. "god, fuck yes, fuck!" you whined, gripping at his curls tightly while he continued to flick his tongue against your puffy bundle of nerves.

"shit, fuck, mattheo, 'm gonna- fuck!" you moaned, nearly collapsing back on the counter as you came roughly on his tongue and chin. he licked and lapped at your pussy, going until he got every single drop and your legs were quivering from the overstimulation.

he let you catch your breath before eventually helping you back up. you got redressed and together, you picked up the kitchen and got your cupcakes onto your pretty little platter.

later that afternoon, you and mattheo snuggled up together on the couch in the common room, chatting away about whatever nonsense you felt like chatting about.

when your friends came in, their eyes widened in confusion at the sight of you: you were both still coated in glitter with hickeys all over your necks, and you even had bite marks on your arms.

"jesus, did you get into a fight with a sparkly vampire?"

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[dewdropsonparchment]

SDV Headcanons: Sam 1/?

I have literally nothing but Sam in my mind so I feel it's only fair that you'd share my struggle. I need company down this hole.

Physical appearance headcanons:

He's a tall guy, probably around 1m80-86.

Naturally fit, he doesn't put on much weight and has a fast metabolism, toned arms mostly, abs a teensy bit defined but nothing more. He's definitely got pretty strong muscles overall due to both the skateboarding and his guitar playing but I feel like he wouldn't be overly toned unless he actually trained for it. He says he's got to hit the gym but... he has yet to write a memo for it.

You'll take this one from my cold, dead hands: he's got a dimple on the left side of his mouth. One. Singular. Heart-melting. Dimple. His smile is like meeting Icarus and facing his fate at the same time. Fight me.

Freckles, discrete ones that kind of blend in with his skin but lots of freckles all over his face and body.

I can see him tan fairly easily, like you know this nice effortless tan that you get from just existing out in the outdoors when the sun doesn't hate you (will always make fun of Seb for turning into a shrimp after a few minutes spent under the hard summer sun though).

I can see him having a few piercings on his face starting with an eyebrow piercing, a lip ring and one on his tongue. His ears are most likely cluttered as well (I blame retquits). He would get more but seeing as Jodi yelled her lungs out about the ones he already got, surely he might as well just kill her if he got any more. He wouldn't mind getting a tattoo but I have a feeling he wouldn't be obsessed by it as much as he would feel the urge to get another piercing.

It's the eternal war between his green-eyed sprite and his blue-eyed portrait isn't it? I feel his eyes would lean more on blue though. I'm definitely on board with the baby blue eyes for him. Beautiful down-turned baby blue eyes.

Because we're aiming for something a bit more on the realistic side and that as far as I'm concerned super saiyan hair is not a thing, I feel his hairstyle is mostly just him leaving his hair to dry on its own and just kind of putting it in some sort of order or shape that he likes. I feel this image transcribes how I imagine it pretty well.

I wish I had anything to say about his hands but milkybunnie absolutely hit the nail on the head with the picture they chose for him in this post. Calloused hands, but very strong, nice hands to hold.

[orieriee]

Genshin men giving you nicknames pt. 2

Author's note: So I have this old pieces of headcanons or imagines that I'm gonna repost here because it's still fun to read in my opinion :0 and I added new characters too so yeahh

Pairings: Arataki Itto, Thoma, Xiao, Albedo x gn! reader (separate)

Warnings: petnames, nicknames, fluff

Arataki 'Numero Uno' Itto

✸ SUNSHINE!!! Have you heard his morning voiceline?? UGH I'M OBSESSED

✸ morning sunshine~ I MIGHT SIMPLY PAST AWAY EACH MORNING

✸ Other than sunshine, maybe my moon and my stars are two that I can actually picture him calling

✸ He likes to give you sky objects nicknames. He might even call you mini mars at some point 🤩

✸ My little onikabuto is a weird nickname but sure itto, however you want it for you

✸ He uses them A LOT like a lot, he adores you so much that he gave you so many cute nicknames

✸ He uses babe sometimes but he likes to use sunshine more, 100%

✸ Give him a cute or loving nickname back, he'll love it more than anything.

✸ I pull itto because of his personality please he's so funny I love him 😭

Thoma, my malewife:

✿ I am still furious that he didn't come home during his banner😡 I wasted my primos for C4 xiangling and somehow C4 rosaria and I don't even use them

✿ He's a literal gentleman, I would want to date this guy 100%, he gives you respectful nicknames

✿ He doesn't call you with nicknames unless you want him to because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable

✿ "Oh, uh… You gave me a nickname? D-Do you want-? W-what should I give you back then?" WITH BLUSHING FLUSTERED FACE BECAUSE YOU JUST GAVE HIM A CUTE LOVING NICKNAME

✿ My prince/princess is one of his candidate for a nickname but I think he's more of umm

✿ milady, milord. Yes. That's it. But srsly Thoma, just give me any nicknames and I'll be happy 😭

✿ For more intimate sessions, he likes to call you with 'my love'

✿ Just imagine, while cuddling, "Oh, you just got out of the hot bath?" sniffs you 'you smell amazing my love.'

✿ AND THE FACT U DIDN'T COME HOME IS AN INSULT THOMA, COME HOME AND KISS ME AND WE MAKE OUT AND I'LL FORGIVE YOU

Xiao and Albedo are under the cut!

Call out my name *tetetetet* Adeptus Xiao

❃ NOPE. Don't get you hopes high up on this man. Don't even dream I think 🤡

❃ He almost never calls you with your own name let alone giving you cute nicknames✋😃

❃ No, I don't hate Xiao. I sacrificed all of my primogems for him. I main him. I'm just stating (un-canon) facts here

❃ It would be like "Hey… So… You're back from your adventure." "yeah" "You're not…. hurt or anything, I see." "I have some... Uh... Spare almond tofu. Eat it. You look malnourished from the long journey." Xiao😭

❃ But he does treasure you by his heart though. He's just a huge tsundere. Come here Xiao, lemme give you a good big ol' hug.

❃ He loves you but just doesn't use nicknames. Not even the teensy tiny bit of babe, baby or honey, dearest, no.

❃ But would be internally SO proud if you defend him by calling him yours though.

❃ "If you ever disrespect my precious xiao again, I guarantee you'll never see the sun rise again." with a d3ath glare

❃ Xiao: "y-yours?? Ugh- forget it." *pride is there but hides it so well*

Albedoooooo ALBEDOOOO u SUS

✧ I don't think you should get your hopes high too on this man.

✧ Perhaps like Diluc (read part 1), would only call you nicknames in private AND when he feels like it

✧ 'My dear' for fluffy intimate sessions and 'sweetheart' for flirting

✧ And when you want to give him nicknames, just don't mention his height. I feel like he would be less appreciative if you mention that

✧ Actually likes it when you nickname him with something around his passion like artsy boy, smarty pants, mr. painter, mr. alchemist, smarty boy, mr artist, etc.

✧Just imagine ruffling his hair out of the blue and calling him, 'smart boy or good boy' after he figures something out or succeeds a difficult task/experiment

✧ He'll be boom, a blushing mess, but then try to regain his composure

✧ "Cough ehem thank you dear. Couldn't have done it without your support."

[book-of-baba-fett]

Ok LOVE your post about OCs/inserts because I always find myself doubting that in my own writing. It did make me think though, about your OC Talia; would you say she’s in the everyone thinks she’s hot version, or is it more limited to Rex just being obsessed with her?

Thank you!!!!

So with Talia; she’s generally a conventionally attractive woman. She’s got the thick ash blonde hair, pretty eyes, curvy yet in shape body so yeah she definitely falls into the generally attractive slot. She’s not an “omg every one is in love with her” character, but she has gotten attention before.

Obviously Fives thought she was hot, maybe even had a teensy crush on her for a bit but realized how in love Rex was, before Rex even did tbh, so Fives backed off but still flirted with her cause they got along. I even threw in those few scenes where Thorn would flirt with her a bit, but it wasn’t serious really, he more of recognizes that she’s attractive and had a little fun flirting.

Not giving anything away, but there’s also another character popping up in the next chapter who might be more forward in his attractions to her 👀

[voidwerks]

Legiones Astartes: Rome 30,0000 - Electric Boogaloo - Part 1

It’s been several years since I did my informational posts on warp travel and threats to humanity in the 40k universe, and I was feeling particularly motivated so here’s a quick, dirty guide to where it all started. The bois that everyone in 40k loves (or loves to hate), the Astartes!

In the far off future of the 31st millennium, humanity has just recovered from nearly beating itself into extinction yet again, and the after effects of space elves blowing a permanent hole in reality after the biggest party the galaxy has ever seen. After thousands of years of plotting and planning, the Emperor of Mankind decided the time was right, sorted everyone’s shit out on Earth, and set out to make the galaxy a safer place for humanity. Whether anyone wanted it or not. To do this, he mustered tens of thousands of super soldiers, lead by men who were basically demi-gods, and sent them forth across the stars in what was known as the Great Crusade. This is the story of the sons of the sons, the Primarchs can have their own post another day.

Numero Uno, the the First Legion, the Dark Angels. Clad in black and silver armor, the Dark Angels were the first marines to be created. Between that and their assistance with retaking the Earth prior to the Great Crusade, they were allowed special permissions later Legions did not have. In particular, they had access to some of the oldest, strangest, and sometimes horrifying bits of technology that the Emperor had stashed away for a rainy day. Even 10k years later in 40k, the Angels still uphold that privilege, and if things ever get completely and truly fucked, they’ve got a few aces up their sleeves just in case. Owing to the culture of their adoptive homeworld, Caliban, the Dark Angels have a strong knightly aesthetic, as well as plenty of ranks, titles, and associated iconography so everyone can know what kind of badass you are. 

Second ISN’T the Second Legion. Something bad happened to them and no one is allowed to talk about it. It’s actually the THIRD LEGION, the Emperor’s Children! Among the Legions, the Emperor’s Children had the unique distinction of being allowed to wear his personal emblem on their armor and carry his name. This was the Emperor’s gift to them after a company of them serving as honor guards during a victory parade, where they protected the Emperor from an assassination attempt involving a black hole bomb. The Emperor’s Children were perfectionists: anything that can be done can be done better, and they could get a bit salty when their brother Legions out-did them. Beyond that, they were renowned for their artistic skills, as well as their interpersonal skills with ‘mortal’ humans. While many marines either didn’t care for regular humans, or straight up disliked them, the Third Legion got along quite well with people, to the point they were often sent as diplomats to introduce long-lost planets of humans into the Imperium peacefully.

The Fourth Legion, completely unrelated to Marvel, were the Iron Warriors. To the Fourth Legion, war is entirely a matter of numbers. While other Legions fight with spirit, ferocity, nobility, the Iron Warriors fight with a machine-like efficiency and calculated planning. Rivals of the Seventh Legion, the Iron Warriors were particularly fond of siege-tactics. They’d bombard their foes with massed artillery, push in with columns of tanks, and hit critical points with forces of marines, changing tactics along the way as the variables shifted. While they took pride in their accomplishments, cold personalities and a ruthless fighting style didn’t make them many friends. Combined with feeling like they didn’t get much recognition for their efforts, often being stuck with some of the worst fights, the Iron Warriors tended to resent most of the other Legions. But no matter how tough, no matter how ugly, they would not bend, for the Iron Warriors always completed a task given to them.

Next in line, we have the Fifth Legion, the White Scars. Possessed of free spirits and a healthy dose of superstition, the White Scars preferred style of combat was: as quickly as physically possible. Whenever possible, they would ride to battle on anti-grav jet-bikes or speeders. Lacking that, on traditional motor bikes. Reminiscent of Mongolian horse riders, the White Scars fought from their mounts as often as they could, enjoying every moment of it, even if death might come at them at a few hundred miles per hour. Considered odd by most of their brother Legions, the Scars’ aloof personalities and plans divined by seers often saw them tearing about the galaxy in smaller warbands. Never staying in one place for long, they roamed wherever the winds of fate would take them.

Continuing on, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: SKYRIM STILL EXISTS. But really, the Sixth Legion, the Space Wolves. It doesn’t take much to explain these boys, the Space Wolves were vikings in space. They could be a bit dense, were prone to showing off, loved getting into fights, and even invented a kind of alcohol that could get marines drunk. In peace, they could be a bit rough around the edges but were jovial types. Beyond that however, the Wolves had a much more notorious side. While their brothers would mock them at times for being a bit ‘simple’, they were also feared as the Emperor’s hounds. If someone fucked up somewhere in the galaxy, the Wolves were the sent to deal the punishment. Typically, this involved plenty of axes and other people’s heads. While unconfirmed even 10k years later, it is rumored that the Space Wolves were responsible for reaving both the Second and Eleventh Legions at the Emperor’s command. Whatever they did must have been horrible, for it resulted in the culling of tens of thousands of marines and two demi-god primarchs. So remember kids, tug on the wolf’s tail at your own peril.

Eternal rivals to the Fourth Legion, here comes the Seventh Legion, the Imperial Fists. While not as bitter as their brothers in the Fourth, the Fists shared a lot of similarities with them. Blunt, no-nonsense, analytical, monumentally stubborn, fond of hitting their foes as hard as possible, on the surface the two seemed quite alike. But while the Iron Warriors were frequently unconcerned with what happened after their battles, grinding entire cities into dust, the Imperial Fists would always build and fortify. Wherever they passed, they would leave their mark in the form of walls, repaired cities, and forts to ensure their hold. This earned them the distinction of being recalled late in the Crusade to oversee the fortification of the entire Solar System. The reclamation of the galaxy was nearly complete, and it was their task to ensure that Terra would be able to withstand anything the universe could throw at it from that point forward. At least, that was the idea...

What stalks the night, strikes fear into the hearts of the unjust, and has bat wings? Move over Bruce Wayne, it’s the Eighth Legion, the Night Lords. Among the Legions, the Night Lords were unique in the fact that they did not operate like a traditional army. Unlike other Legions, the Night Lords’ favorite method of fighting was to strike fear and terror into their enemies. Considered brutal and sadistic even in the early days, the Night Lords would ‘pacify’ star systems by cutting off supply lines, destroying infrastructure, terrorizing civilians, and savagely breaking their enemy’s will before finishing the job. Known for taking bone trophies, using blood as paint, painting their armor with skulls, and even fashioning people’s faces into tea cozies, there were very few in the Imperium that genuinely liked the Night Lords. In fact, late into the Crusade they were even risking censure or a visit from the Space Wolves. But as they maintained from their inception: they were a necessary evil. Not everyone in the galaxy was reasonable. Some didn’t even respect the immense might of the Astartes. There were some that would only listen to fear. And the poor buggers that wouldn’t even listen to that? They would be made into examples, slowly, painfully, and without any remorse. 

A breath of fresh air from the Night Lords, the Ninth Legion, the Blood Angels. Where the Night Lords were immensely cruel, showcasing some of the worst humanity had to offer, the Blood Angels showed some of the best. Kindness, nobility, flowing golden locks of hair with slight curls, using their strength to protect the weak, seeing the goodness in others, the Blood Angels were quite human for heavily augmented super-soldiers. Well, they did have one teensy little problem. Just a bit of casual bloodlust that could leave them going into a frenzy now and then (sometimes even drinking blood) if they didn’t keep their tempers in check. However, largely due to their own self-discipline they were able to keep this fact a secret for the most part. 

Last (for now, don’t want this to be the next Color of the Sky post), but definitely not the least, the Tenth Legion, the Iron Hands. While the Iron Warriors have a very mechanical way of thinking, and a strong affinity for tech, the Iron Hands take this to a completely new level. To them, anything could be improved by mechanizing it, up to and frequently including themselves. The Hands were notorious for heavily modifying themselves, and had more tanks than any other Legion, tied only with the Iron Warriors. Ironically for a Legion obsessed with machinery, the Iron Hands are also possessed of a volatility only shared by their brothers in the Sixth and the Twelfth Legions. In contrast to the cool, collected rationality of machines, Astartes of the Iron Hands were notoriously hot-headed and liable to making rash decisions if they lost their tempers. This alternating clash frequently manifested as contempt for their own ‘weakness’, but also as contempt for others, resulting in the Iron Hands keeping very few friends, even amongst themselves.

[ahgastae]

curiosity (wip) – bang chan x f!reader

➥ word count: 6.1k | spider-man au | action (?? idk) | fluff

➥ m.list

➥ a/n: alright,, let me explain myself lol. i started writing this like?? over a year ago? and eventually got to the point where i kind of just lost ALL of the ideas that i had for where i wanted this to go. SO, instead of letting it sit in my docs forever, i decided to go ahead and post it here for all of you! i hope you enjoy ♡

One thing you can say for sure is you really, really didn’t expect your life to go this way. Not that you have any idea as to how you actually want it to go, but barely hanging onto the edge of the tallest skyscraper in New York definitely isn’t on the top of your list. You feel your fingers start to cramp from the weight, and part of you realizes that this might be it. The end of the infamous Black Cat. Done in because you finally decided to do something good with your life.

Tch. Figures.

A bitter smile spreads across your lips. Of course, this would be the way you go. Ever so dramatic, but on your own damn terms. The thought is comforting, even if it only soothes your beating heart just a bit. You focus on that when your fingers finally start to give out, and you lose your grip on the edge of the rooftop. 

When your eyes slowly slip closed, and you feel the wind rushing through your hair. 

There’s a small voice in your head telling you to hold on, that it’s almost there. It’s weird. It almost sounds familiar. Almost like-

“Y/N!”

You jolt up in your bed, chest heaving as you struggle to regain your breath. Stars twinkle faintly outside a large window to your right, but your vision quickly adjusts to the rest of the darkened room. Your hands release their iron grip on your plush comforter, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. You’re in your bedroom. It was just another nightmare.

A scoff. ‘Just another nightmare.’ You’ve been plagued with the same stupid dream for weeks now, and you still can’t figure out why. It always starts and ends the same way. You’re hanging off the skyscraper, you try to hang on for as long as you can, you realize very quickly that you can’t hold on any longer, and then you fall. Presumably to your death. But you never seem to make it that far.

Not that you want to, but don’t most people not wake up until they hit the ground during those dreams? Why do you wake up gasping for air before you’re even halfway down? You suppose you should be lucky, but you can’t help feeling like there’s more to it than that. Especially with that voice, the one that calls your name? You always hear it calling out to you, every night, right before you wake up. Tonight wasn’t any different.

You sigh, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed and eyeing the clock on your night stand. 3:25AM. 

….Shit.

Well, you’re probably not getting back to bed anytime soon, so you might as well put this wake up call to good use. Padding over to your closet, you carefully swing open the wooden door, cringing to yourself when a slight creak echoes off your bedroom walls. You wait a few seconds just to make sure you’re in the clear. But the apartment is completely silent, save for your roommate’s soft snores in her room next door.

The hidden panel in the back of your closet slides open with a click, and you can’t help the excited smile on your face. No matter how you’re feeling, the sight of that black catsuit never fails to brighten your mood. Your hands run along the smooth material, quickly changing into the familiar suit, and grinning when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window. You didn’t really plan on going out, but….

Looks like the Black Cat is going to have some fun tonight after all.

The museum is quiet when you drop through the skylight, landing softly on the balcony of the second floor. Your EMP seems to have done its job, as the security system is powered down and there doesn’t seem to be a guard in sight. They’re probably all back in their office, hurriedly trying to figure out what the hell went wrong. If only they knew about the small, catlike figurine hidden on the roof. Although, maybe not. You don’t mind leaving your adorably deceiving EMPs behind, but they’re not for some random night guard to find. No, you leave them behind for a specific someone. A certain web-headed hero, if you will.

Oh, who are you kidding? It’s no secret (at least, not to him) that you love to tease New York’s  friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Everywhere you go, every heist you pull, you always make sure the hero knows it was you. Obsessed? You wouldn’t say so. Sure, you definitely get a little too excited at the thought of just barely slipping out of his fingers again, but you don’t spend every waking minute planning his demise like some of his other big, bad villains. 

Really, if you were to rank yourself, you’d probably be somewhere between “Lovable Anti-Villain” and “Hero With an ‘F’ in Good”. Not super “evil,” more like just enough to keep the wallcrawler chasing your tail. 

But that’s not the entire reason you’re here tonight, slipping into the museum’s new exhibit on fourteenth century Japan. 

The law labels you a criminal, Spider-Man believes you’re misguided, but you know what you are. You’re the Black Cat, a thief notorious throughout the underground. Well, you say that, but of the people that actually believe you exist, very few have actually seen the Black Cat in person. Actually, it may just be Spider-Man, now that you think about it. Maybe that’s why you feel a weird connection with the wall-crawling hero.

Either way, bottom line is you’re a thief, and a damn good one at that. It’s definitely not the most noble profession (or legal one), but your very specific set of skills make you the best at it, so why not? Plus, it’s not like you’re entirely heartless. 

No, you only steal from the wealthy of New York, the highest of elites, the ones who can stand to lose a few thousands (or millions, if you’re feeling pretty moody that night). You’ve tried to explain that to Spider-Man, that it’s okay for you to steal from them because they’re the ones who deserve it. It’s downright disgusting how many of them used dirty means to come into their wealth, methods ranging from less than savory to straight up nefarious.

You may be bad, but you’re definitely not worse than them.

That brings you back to the exhibit. Most of the artifacts in this room were already either stolen or bought from the black market, so what does it matter if you just continue that line?

The latch of the display case clicks as you open the lid, admiring the ancient Japanese tea set nestled inside. You don’t really know its value yet, but it’s going to earn you a pretty penny, that’s for sure. Your hand reaches into the case, hovering over the ceramic teapot when you hear it.

THWIP.

You drop to a crouch, glancing up at the webbing splattered across the lid of the display case. If you hadn’t moved, that would’ve been all over you. And you’d definitely be pissed, if you didn’t know exactly where it came from. A sly smile crosses your face as you stand and turn, locking eyes (or masks?) with your favorite hero perched atop one of the exhibit’s statues.

“I’m starting to think you like us meeting this way, Spider-Man.”

The playful lilt in your voice never fails to catch him off guard. His broad shoulders tense, and it takes everything in you to suppress the giggle from escaping your lips. But he’s quick to compose himself, like always, and you’re almost certain you can hear the smirk in his tone.

“What can I say? My mom always told me to follow my dreams.”

You laugh, trailing a hand along another case as you stroll towards him, “How did you know I’d be here?”

“New exhibit filled with priceless artifacts and no rooftop security,” He shrugs, jumping from the statue’s head and landing in front of you with a soft thud. “Figured it’d be a cat burglar’s dream come true.”

“You thought of me?” You step closer, resting your hands on the white spider emblazoned across his chest. The muscles tense underneath your fingers, and you smirk when his hands twitch in the corner of your eye. “Don’t worry, Spidey. I promise I’m on my best behavior. I just want a few teensy, tiny things and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Sorry, Cat, but I don’t think any of these artifacts are for sale.”

“But they could be,” You shrug, turning away from him. Your fingers toy with the latch on a nearby display case. “See, I think I have a buyer who would love to add something like this to his collection…”

A gloved hand wraps around your wrist before you can open the case. Your eyes trail up his arm, blinking innocently at his white lenses.

“You know I can’t let you do this.”

You smile, leaning into him once more, “Can’t, or won’t?” He stays silent, and you reach your free hand up to cup his masked face. Your thumb softly traces back and forth on his cheek. “Isn’t it funny,” you whisper, “how something as simple as a piece of fabric can keep someone from knowing who you really are?”

“Cat…”

“Do you really think that you can save me, Spidey?” You tilt your head, eyes desperately scanning his face for any sign of his thoughts or feelings. “How do you know if I even want to be saved?”

He swiftly tugs you closer, and despite the white lenses shielding his eyes, you feel his gaze pierce into your own. When he speaks, his voice is soft but deep, and for the first time since you met him, you’re rendered speechless.

“Because you wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”

Before you can respond, the sound of footsteps down the hall startles you both. Spider-Man’s grip loosens as he quickly turns towards the exhibit entrance, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on. The guards must have finally figured out that someone is after the new exhibit, and they won’t be happy to find two intruders standing inside. 

Your eyes shift between Spider-Man and the exhibit entrance. It won’t be hard for you two to escape together before the guards even set foot in this room, but what will you do then? Will you laugh and tell him that he’s wrong about you, that you really don’t want his help? 

….Or is it that you don’t think you deserve it?

No, he’s just wrong. Spider-Man doesn’t know you, and it’s silly of you to even pretend that he does. You know you like your life just the way it is. That’s not going to change, no matter how much your chest tightens as you gently tug your wrist out of his grip.

It’s not going to change, no matter how much a part of you wishes he would notice you climbing up to the skylight in the center of the room. That he would stop you from slipping through it, and back into the starry night. That he wouldn’t let you fall through his fingertips yet again.

But you’ve never been particularly lucky. Especially not when you really want to be.

By the time you get back to your apartment and change out of your gear, it’s already well past dawn. Like usual, your roommate is still asleep, blissfully unaware that you were gone for a good portion of the night. Which is good, because you really don’t know how you would explain your “other life” to her if she ever found out.

With your suit safely stowed back in its hidden panel, you collapse onto your bed with a heavy sigh. What a fucking night. You’re a little upset that you ended up leaving empty handed, but you knew that was going to happen as soon as you saw the wall-crawler. He really just guessed that you were going to be there tonight. Are you getting that predictable?

Ugh, no. You shake your head. The last thing you want to think about right now is what happened at the museum. How could such a simple sentence send all of your thoughts into a whirlwind of emotions?

“Because you wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.” 

His voice still echoes in your mind, and you stuff your face in your pillow with a groan. This is dumb. Why are you freaking out over this? It’s not like he meant anything by it, just his usual Spidey “I can help you!” stuff. Yeah, that’s it. He just gave you the same spiel he gives all his other enemies, nothing more, nothing less.

….But why does that hurt more?

You throw the pillow off your face as another sigh escapes your lips. Sometimes you really wish you could be one of those super evil villains. You know, those ones who never have to deal with their feelings and shit because they’re too busy taking over the world. Although, you guess you don’t really want to take over the world, at least not all of it. That’s way too much responsibility. You wonder if the people who actually do want to rule the world think of how much time and effort that’s going to require. How do they prepare for that? Is that mental preparation how they’re able to turn off all their feelings? Could you somehow learn to-

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

You shriek at the sudden whisper in your ear, instinctively rolling away from its source and tumbling off the end of your bed. Your butt hits the floor with a dull thud, and you glare at a giggling Sana over your mattress.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“S-Sorry!” She chokes out. “I didn’t think I’d scare you that bad!”

Crawling back onto your bed with a grumble, you eye Sana as she struggles to collect herself. She really shouldn’t have scared you that bad, but you guess the lack of sleep and your frazzled thoughts are finally starting to catch up with you. When Sana finally manages to contain her giggles, she plops down on the edge of your mattress with a small huff.

“I really am sorry for scaring you, Y/N,” She reaches out to squeeze your hand. “I thought you would have noticed me walk in.”

You shake your head, giving her a small squeeze in return, “It’s fine. I’ve just...been having some trouble sleeping lately. That’s all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her voice is so sincere and caring, you almost find yourself saying yes. You don’t, though, because you can’t tell her the real reason why you haven’t been sleeping, and you don’t think you can bear to lie to her about it, either. With that, your roommate leaves, going back to her room to get ready for her day while you try to muscle up the energy to start yours.

Throwing your legs over the side of your bed, you grab your phone from your nightstand to check the time. Oh, looks like you got a good number of texts during your daydreaming, too.

...And it looks like most of them are from your best friend.

changaroo 🦘 : hey, jinyoung’s in a bit of a mood today, so make sure you’re here on time, alright?

changaroo  🦘 : also i think i have an idea for your next article, i’ll tell you about it when you get in

changaroo  🦘 : y/n, you were supposed to be here 20 min ago, everything okay??

changaroo  🦘 : ….you fucking slept in again, didn’t you?

changaroo  🦘 : hold on i’m texting sana

Ah. So that’s why she was in your room. Chan’s texts are just what you need to get yourself out of bed, though, instantly motivated by both your best friend’s caring nature and the thought of your boss’s wrath hanging above your head. The last time Jinyoung was in a “mood”, you ended up covering the city’s sewer system for a whole month just because you left your dirty coffee mug sitting in the break room sink. That’s a mistake you only make once. Or four times, if you’re poor Hyunjin, who just can’t seem to stay on your boss’s good side, no matter how hard he tries.

Speaking of which, you really need to get your ass moving, or else you’ll wish you only had to cover rats and raw sewage.

Your chest heaves as you approach the Daily Bugle building, the red neon letters standing tall and proud atop its roof announcing the paper’s presence to all of New York City. Some tourists stand around here and there in front of the building’s entrance, and you have to push past them in order to make it inside. Once inside, you think you can take a brief moment of rest. 

Until you notice the clock above the receptionist’s desk and realize you’re almost forty-five minutes late.

With a small cry, you take off in another mad dash towards the stairs, taking the steps two at a time and only almost faceplanting once before you finally burst onto your floor. Everyone immediately turns at the noise, and you avoid their probing eyes as you make your way to your desk. 

You sit down, turn on your computer, and get yourself ready to act like you aren’t almost an hour late to start your day when you sense a familiar gaze still boring into your forehead. You can’t stop yourself from glancing up, finding his eyes staring at you over your monitor. 

“Not. One. Word.”

Chan laughs, leaning back in his chair and giving you a view of his entire face. He mimes zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, and a small smile crosses your face. Leave it to him to automatically brighten your day.

If you’re being completely honest, you were a little worried at first about the curly haired Australian your boss decided to place at the desk across from you. Not that you didn’t like him, but you didn’t exactly become the paper’s best investigative journalist by sitting around and making friends. Sure, you don’t necessarily need this job given your…”other” career, but it gives you something to do during the week and keeps your mind busy. That, and you really just like digging into people’’s deep, dark secrets.

Long story short, you weren’t exactly thrilled about some new guy coming in and taking your eye off the ball. At least, that’s what you thought, until the day Christopher Bang showed up and introduced himself as your new partner. Turns out, Jinyoung didn’t just hire a new photographer for the Bugle, he hired a new photographer specifically for your articles. You knew then that you just had to suck it up and deal, but you didn’t count on Christopher (or Chan, as he later insisted you call him) being literally the nicest, most charming guy you’ve ever met.

And despite your attempts to stop it, you and Chan quickly became “thick as thieves,” as he likes to call it. The phrase makes you cringe a little every time he says it, but you can’t deny its truth. If you were to trust anyone with your secret life, it would definitely be your best friend. Now, you’re never going to do that because what in the hell would you gain from it, but the sentiment is still there.

Actually, speaking of secrets….

You glance up at Chan again, except this time his attention is focused on his own computer screen. Part of you wants to just leave him be, but this has been eating at you since you talked to Sana this morning. Or, no, when you first woke up at 3AM today. You swallow your pride, clearing your throat just loud enough to get Chan’s attention. His brown eyes immediately find yours.

“Something wrong?”

“I, um…” You bite your lip. “I had another one of those dreams again.”

Chan’s brow furrows, and he leans forward in his seat, “The falling one? Isn’t that the fourth time this week?”

“It’s the twelfth time this month, Chan.” 

“Shit…” He mumbles, running a hand through his blond hair. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up at the small action, staring down at your keyboard to hide your face. You’re just...not used to trusting someone as much as you trust Chan. Yeah, that’s it. Absolutely nothing but that sole reason alone. “Y/N?”

“H-Hm?” You blink up at Chan, cheeks heating up even more when you realize you were caught daydreaming. Again.

“I just figured there must be a reason you keep having the same dream, you know? Like, maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something?”

You think for a moment. Could that be the case? Is your subconscious really fucking up your sleep schedule for some important message that’s getting lost in translation? Are you just a dumbass who can’t understand your own brain?

Honestly, all valid possibilities.

Before you can respond, though, the phone on your desk rings loudly. Chan’s brow raises as you pick it up, but you both already know who it is. There’s really only one person who uses that line, and it’s the same person you were hoping not to hear from today.

“L/N, my office. Now.”

And then he hangs up. Your boss has always been a man of few words, but sometimes you really hate how such a short sentence can strike so much fear into your heart. Chan watches as you stand up and adjust your outfit with a heavy sigh.

“Tell him you haven’t been sleeping well lately,” He suggests, and for a minute you think he’s actually being earnest. But, of course, he just has to open his mouth again, “And if that doesn’t work, then at least we’ll be exploring the sewers of New York together!”

A laugh bubbles past your lips, “Are you serious?”

“Hey, I’ve always wanted to know if the Ninja Turtles were real,” Chan grins widely, chuckling when you just shake your head and walk away. He can still see the smile on your face, though, and it only grows when he shouts after you, “You know you wouldn’t mind being the April to my Casey!”

“In your dreams, Christopher!”

His loud laughter follows you all the way to the stairwell, and your chest feels light as you climb up to your boss’s office on the top floor. With Chan’s bright smile in the back of your mind, it’s hard to remember what you were so worried about in the first place. At least, until you’re standing right outside your boss’s door.

“Thank you for taking your sweet time, L/N. Please, sit down.”

Park Jinyoung is, for lack of better words, intimidating to some, and outright terrifying to others. You like to think you’re somewhere near the former, but the look on the twenty-four year old’s face right now is enough to send even the most despicable villains running for the hills. Really, who needs a Spider-Man when you’ve got a Jinyoung to just death glare the bad guys away?

You take a seat in the chair in front of his desk, nervously wringing your hands in your lap. He spends a few more seconds shuffling around the papers and files on his desk, then fixes you with a deadpan look. 

“Do you know why I called you in here, L/N?”

“Because I was...late again?” Your shoulders hunch, automatically preparing for the verbal barrage of scolding to start, but it never comes. You glance up at Jinyoung cautiously, shocked to find his brows raised in amusement.

Much more to your surprise, he chuckles, leaning back in his office chair, “You look like you’re about to faint, L/N. I really think you need to loosen up a bit.”

“O-Okay, sir-”

“That’s why,” Jinyoung cuts you off, “I want you to take on a new side project for the paper.”

You blink. A side project…? What could he possibly mean by that? And how does giving you more work equate to you “loosening up”?!

“Let me explain.” You stay silent as your boss clears his throat, sitting up in his seat to look you in the eyes. “Truthfully, it would be less of a side project and more of an ongoing investigative piece. It’ll take the place of your other responsibilities for the Bugle, so you can divide and spread out your workload as you see fit. You don’t even have to report to me until the full piece is finished, if you’d like.”

...Is this a test? Because it feels like a test, doesn’t it? He gives you some too-good-to-be-true offer, and then fires you for being stupid enough to accept it. Or, maybe-

Oh, god, is this where the sewers come in?

“I’m sorry, sir,” You force out, steeling your nerves against his hard gaze, “but I think I’m going to decline.”

You hope that’s going to be the end of it, that Jinyoung will just nod and send you on your way, but of course that’s not the case. No, instead your boss surprises you for the second time, and he actually smiles.

“Are you sure, L/N?” He asks, and you get the strange feeling he’s getting some sick satisfaction from messing with you. “I haven’t even told you what the piece is about yet.”

A small sigh leaves your lips, “What...What is it about, sir?”

“Oh, it’s simple, L/N,” Jinyoung’s smirk grows, taking your question as an acceptance of his offer. His next words shock the objection right out of you, though, and leave only one thought in their place. “You’re just going to do this city and this paper a favor, and finally find out who New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man really is.”

...Fuck.

“He wants you to what?!”

You flinch, pulling your phone away from your ear as Sana’s voice screeches from the device. Honestly, she hadn’t been your first choice to tell about your new “project” (Jinyoung didn’t give you much choice, after all), but Chan was nowhere to be seen when you got back to your desk. You did, however, have one simple text waiting on your phone.

changaroo 🦘 : had to run out. meet you at the usual spot for lunch. my treat <3

So, here you are. Waiting at the pizzeria you and Chan regularly meet at with your roommate loudly screaming in your ear. You mumble something to Sana about needing to go and seeing her at home, and hang up the call. You love her, you really do, but right now you need someone who’s not going to blow out your eardrums without listening to what you actually want to say.

But it’s starting to look more and more like that won’t be Chan, either.

The blond boy has a habit of disappearing every now and again, both during and outside of work, and right now is starting to seem like one of those times. It doesn’t usually take him this long to respond to your texts, and he never likes to miss your little ‘lunch dates’ without any warning. Either something is seriously wrong, or…

“This just in, the NYPD advises all civilians to evacuate the east Harlem district. We’ve received reports of the Rhino attacking parts of the area, along with sightings of the masked vigilante, Spider-Man. That’s all we know for now, but we will continue to keep you posted as the story develops. Now, onto the…”

Ah, that makes a lot of sense. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Chan’s mysterious disappearances always line up with whatever villain of the day getting their ass kicked by everyone’s favorite “vigilante.” The news anchor’s choice of words makes you snicker, but you can’t help but worry for your friend. Most people run away from villain attacks, and it doesn’t sit well with you knowing Chan is regularly risking his life just to get a few good shots for his portfolio. His photos are amazing, there’s no denying that, but you always wonder how he gets his impossible close ups of villains and their destruction. It’s almost like he has to be right in the middle of–

The bell above the pizzeria’s door rings, jolting you out of your thoughts. You look up expectantly, but it’s still not your best friend. A quiet sigh escapes your lips. Another look at your phone tells you that you can’t wait here much longer; you need to get back to work sometime today. Still, it pains you a little bit to stand from your guys’ booth. Your usual tip is left on the table despite it being only one meal, and you head back to the Bugle with your best friend lingering in the back of your mind.

Back at your desk, you finally get a chance to mull over your new “assignment”. Jinyoung has tasked you, for whatever reason, with figuring out Spider-Man’s real identity. You remember now why you wanted to talk to Chan so badly. You thought, since he’s always running back and forth between villain attacks, that he would have some kind of idea where to start. That, and you really just wanted to rant about your asshole boss to your best friend. Chan ended up being a no show, though, and he’s still not answering any of your texts. You hate to admit it, but you’re a little lost.

Your first thought was to use the connection you already have with the spider to your advantage. You’ve “known” each other for a couple years now, and maybe, just maybe, you can convince him to actually take off the mask. It wouldn’t be that hard to just don the Black Cat suit and wait around one of your usual hang outs for him show up. Actually, that would probably be the easiest thing to do.

Except that you can’t.

As you stare at Chan’s vacant desk in front of you, you’re bitterly reminded that Y/N L/N has been assigned this job, not the Black Cat. And unfortunately for you, Y/N L/N does not have the same connection to Spider-Man as your alter ego. Looks like you’re starting this investigation from square one.

...Which is why you wanted to talk to Chan. He’s your partner, after all; he’s “technically” supposed to help you out with this stuff. That is, if he was actually fucking here. Maybe you should drop by his apartment on your way home, just to make sure he didn’t get trampled or something trying to get a snapshot of the Rhino’s rampage. You try to tell yourself you meant that as a joke, but it doesn’t stop the flash of worry in your chest. You’ve seen firsthand some of the destruction Spider-Man’s battles leave behind. Hell, you’ve even experienced it. And honestly? It doesn’t sit well knowing your best friend makes a hobby of putting himself right in the middle of it.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you’re just starting to consider giving up and calling it a day when your phone lights up with a notification. You hastily snatch it off your desk, immediately perking up upon seeing the name on your screen.

changaroo 🦘 : sorry i missed lunch...take out at mine?

changaroo 🦘 : i’ll order from that korean place you love <3

The tension in your shoulders immediately melts away, tension that you didn’t even realize you were holding. You waste no time in responding, though; relieved to know that he’s okay, but wanting to mess with him a little bit for leaving you on radio silence for so long.

you : tsk tsk channie

you : don’t you know how rude it is to leave a lady waiting all by her lonesome??

you : frankly i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to trust you again (tear emoji or some bs idk)

Three little dots pop up seconds after you press send, and you bite your lip to stop the smile threatening to break through. 

changaroo 🦘 : my apologies, princess!! 

changaroo 🦘 : please, allow me to make it up to you with some of your fav ice cream from the convenience store down the road!

you : hmm…

you : with or without sprinkles?

changaroo 🦘 : uh, with ofc. just who do you think i am??

A small laugh bubbles up your throat, but you cover your mouth before it can escape. Woojin, head of the paper’s advice column, side-eyes you from his desk a few feet away. You don’t notice, though, happily typing out your reply to Chan with an eager grin on your face.

you : apology accepted. i’ll be there in 15

you : ...casey 😉

The train ride to Chan’s apartment is a familiar blur. You’ve taken it more times than you care to count, and it’s honestly become a bit of a habit to instinctively get off at his stop. You don’t have to stop yourself this time, though, putting your legs on auto-pilot and letting your mind wander as you walk. Today has been….a real doozy. From that stupid dream this morning to Jinyoung dumping a monster of an investigative piece on you with zero notice, you’re exhausted, to say the least. No wonder Chan’s front door is such a comforting sight. 

You gently rap your knuckles against the wood before letting yourself in, like you always do. A relieved sigh escapes you as you drop your bag by the door, inhaling the light, summery scent of your friend’s home. That reminds you, you’ve really been meaning to ask him what air freshener he uses. Or maybe it’s his cologne, because it’s not just his house that smells this sweet; it’s Chan himself. Or who knows, maybe he’s like your coworker Minho and it’s really both. Actually, now that you think of it, isn’t it a little weird to have a specific smell you associate with your best friend?

…Which is something you can worry about later.

“Chan!” You call as you walk into the living room, eyes scanning around. There are various take out boxes scattered across the coffee table, but the blond is nowhere in sight. You try again, “Chan?”

A frown etches onto your face when there's still no response. That’s weird. It’s not like him to just leave when he knows you’re coming over, especially without telling you first. But the food on the table is still warm, meaning he had to have been here recently. Did you somehow miss his text? You pull your phone out of your back pocket, confirming that you did not, in fact, miss any “brb” texts from Chan. So, what the hell?

Your search takes you into the small kitchen next, but there’s no sign of your best friend there, either, unless the dirty dishes in the sink count. Oh, gross, you know for a fact some of those have been in there since last week. Your nose scrunches up in disgust and you quickly move on from the room, but not before making a mental note to tell Chan to do his fucking dishes. 

However, the bathroom is empty, too, leaving the apartment’s one bedroom as your last stop. If you had more of a conscience, maybe you would think twice before barging into your friend’s bedroom unannounced. Then again, boundaries never really have been your strong suit.

The door swings open, and the first thing you see is abs. Nice, well toned abs that, as you soon find out, belong to your best friend. Said best friend is frozen, one of his signature black tees pulled halfway down his torso. After a few seconds of stunned silence, you force yourself to tear your eyes away from Chan’s stomach, only for your cheeks to immediately explode in pink when your gaze meets his.

A small squeak leaves your mouth, and you quickly mumble something about waiting for him in the living room before slamming the bedroom door shut. That could not have gone any worse.

[rayomz]

 raymond headcanons.. they aren't entirely fleshed out and they're like "what if it was like this? that makes sense". so sorry if things dont quite make sense or isn't that thought out.. also there may be errors here and there but this isn't supposed to be a polished document its just a rough collection of headcanons i haven't done much with other than like... thinking of them lol

some of this stuff i've posted before but i'm going to reshare again

polokus in origins is described as "an artist and unabashed hedonist" and i see him as just that. immature. he loves all his creations, of course, but he's not exactly responsible. he sees the nymphs more as friends than his daughters. he's more concerned with people liking him than doing the right thing. when he has his first bad dream, he cowers and doesn't want to do anything about it, or he's too scared? this leads to betilla having to do everything herself, she gets help from the other nymphs and creates rayman

the masks of polokus represent his different formes, or perhaps different eras. polokus is a shapeshifter and can be whatever he wants to of course, but he has a "default" he likes to stick with. when he finally changes his "default", a mask is made of the previous forme. for example, polokus from rayman 2 and polokus from the ubiart games are him in different "eras" if that makes sense. their cultural and historic significance could be expanded upon definitely i think but i havent thought too much more into that lmao. the wiki on rpc says that the four kings look like the masks but that sounds more speculative and feels like a stretch. i don’t buy that at all, i don’t see the resemblance

polokus loves all forms of art, and as a result, a lot of the glade's "religion" boils down to being creative and creating, and a lot of magic in general require some form of art, such as dancing for certain spells (the way teensies open portals in r2 or w/e). the people of the glade create art, sing, dance, to keep polokus inspired, amused, and happy so he doesn't have any more bad dreams. i thought about the nymphs all having a corresponding art form, with, obviously, holly being music and edith being culinary, but im not sure what annetta or helena would be. helena maybe textiles... annetta im not sure what i would do with her since she's the most... withdrawn nymph

polokus’ feelings on rayman’s existence are complicated since he is the only creature not created by him. he doesn’t know what he’s capable of, but he’s done a lot already in terms of stopping nightmares and foreign threats such as the pirates. he’s impressed, intrigued... a bit intimidated maybe..... he respects rayman and does love him (polokus has to love every creature after all)

im not sure if the muse of the poets is considered to be actual canon since it appears she was only mentioned in a license guide and not in any other official media. but she's a popular character and i like her too so she gets mentioned. she and polokus fall in love and she has their children, the teensies. she is disgusted by them and runs away, leaving them and polokus forever. she is disgusted by herself, too. if her children are ugly, she must be ugly as well. she becomes obsessed with making herself beautiful, and having beautiful children. she eventually becomes begoniax, which you know how that turns out...

betilla: polokus' pride and joy, she loves him as a father, but is disappointed with his lack of responsibility. when she was younger she was very mischevious and much like him. she learned magic just to be able to pull pranks perform elaborate pull magic tricks. eventually when the first bad dream happened, it was a wake up call. she tried to get him to do something about jano but he wouldn't respond to her. she took matters into her own hands since she was the most magically capable of anyone she knew. with the help of the other nymphs, they created rayman. she's been the "responsible" one ever since. if you catch her in a good mood she might be a bit playful but her days of frivolity are long gone. likes to knit and crochet when she has the time (which is rarely), and spend time with her sisters.

other nymphs: i dont have quite as many headcanons about them, but they are rayman's aunts obviously. edith is rayman's favourite aunt since she's a good cook, followed by holly, who has taught him everything he knows about music. helena is very enthusiastic and a bit overbearing. annetta is the aunt that never shows up to anything

the nymphs all have an element tied to them. betilla and fee de la mort obviously being life and death. holly is air, edith is fire, anetta is water, and helena is earth. seems pretty obvious this part but i've rarely seen ppl attribute helena with earth despite the fact she lives on a mountain...? (stone men, stone dogs, golly g....)

ly is interested in the magical workings of the world and is especially fascinated with lums and their power. betilla sees her potential as a magic user and has accepted her as her pupil. another reason betilla has taken a liking to ly is that she reminds her of her own youth, since ly is fairly playful as well, using magic for tricks. ly is initially just interested in rayman because of the fact he's a being entirely made out of lums, but it eventually turns into a genuine, and close, friendship.

a lot of fairies and some teensies can make "weak" silver lums to give to rayman, but they might not do much, or the effects are temporary. only ly and the nymphs are able to give rayman powers with "stronger" silver lums.

polokus does not dream of every individual in the glade. he dreamt of the first peoples of each species, then they procreate by themselves. most places in the glade are natural, similar to earth, but polokus' dreams may affect them (the icy parts of gourmand land is an obvious example. giant fruit? that's silly)

teensies: naturally hairless and there is little dimorphism between the sexes. their fashion is inspired by the fairies', and have adopted to wear wigs, false eyelashes, fake facial hair, etc. all teensies have the ability to perform magic but they have to actively for it to be useful. teensies with an interest in magic will attend a magic school. the best of the best of teensie magic users can become a minimus, and, of course, the best out of THEM become the grand minimus. there are many teensie races, and each may vary in size, colour (turquoise like in the ubiarts, more grey like in 2 and 3. usually just varying shades of blue), markings, nose length and shape. some races may be more adept at certain magic styles than others.

mr dark: i have some ideas but nothing concrete. might not even go with this story as my definitive headcanon. fairy. he was always critical of polokus, and after the first bad dream, that made him hate the god even more. he was the one who wanted to stop jano, and maybe become someone powerful enough to be seen as the glade's new "god" or whatever. betilla has proven herself to be the better magic user after the creation of rayman. polokus' main thing was that he was the creator, he was able to create life, and now betilla's able to create life. she may as well be polokus! she's a threat! when he steals the protoon/heart of the world and eventually kidnaps betilla, he uses her power to create dark rayman/raymesis. raymesis is *not* was not created by dark by himself, and he would not have been able to pull off this feat without betilla's knowledge of creating "thingamajigs". rayman and raymesis are the only two thingamajigs known in existence, both created by betilla. not saying it's impossible that others could exist, but they would have to be dreamt into existence by polokus.

dark's obsession with being the most powerful person in the world and becoming a god is why he stole the heart of the world, of course. ales mansay would take inspiration from this event. his views are similar to dark's, that's why he worships him. polokus is a terrible god, he lets people suffer. rayman is a terrible hero, all he does is sleep. ales knows he wouldn't be able to reach the heart of the world and instead tries to build his “own” using lums (maybe not exactly but something comparable... the heart of the world is made up of lums after all). i know that's like, duh, canon information, but it was never stated *WHY* he looks up to mr dark. so now you know why. its bc they both hate polokus

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Once again, I have the urge to do half-assed, obsessive character analysis, this time using a format that stopped being cool about a decade ago – that’s right, Hogwarts Houses.  I’m assigning Hogwarts Houses to Brotherhood of Evil Mutants members, and for that I’m so sorry.  

I think many of them could potentially be in Slytherin, just because that’s supposed to the cut-throat, ambitious, self-centered house, but I don’t wanna toss all the bad guys in there.  I don’t like Slytherin being just “the bad guy house,” especially since it means ignoring the negative traits that other houses can show.  Also, I don’t think every villain would necessarily be a Slytherin, as people commit crimes and horrible acts for different reasons. Not all of them are necessarily “ambitious.”  

Toad – Toad is an example of a villain that I wouldn’t really put in Slytherin.  Because, despite his occasional delusions of grandeur, and desire to prove himself as a big-shot (which I think stems QUITE A BIT from his abusive past), I don’t think Toad is really “ambitious,” so to speak.  I think he just wants to be loved and appreciate, and to have somewhere that he belongs.  Toad could possibly be a Gryffindor, since he seems to admire courage, just like Peter Petigrew and Neville Longbottom did.  (Neville obviously found his own courage, while Peter never did.)  And he’s smart enough for Ravenclaw.  But I think Toad’s extreme loyalty to anyone who shows him kindness or friendhip makes him a Hufflepuff.  I think Toad is really the epitome of Hufflepuff in the books – constantly overlooked or treated like a joke, but actually capable of great things under the right circumstances.  Toad would be the Hufflepuff who surprises everyone with his intelligence.

Avalanche: I also don’t see Avalanche as being particularly “ambitious.”  He never seems to want to lead a team, and is mostly content with being a hired lacky. The only time I remember him striking out on his own was when he tried to blackmail the state of California (threatening to cause an earthquake), and that was all about money.  And I wouldn’t put greed on par with “ambition,” necessarily. On the other hand, Avalanche is a ride or die team-player.  He tries to help during a jail break out (and fucks up hilariously) while his arms are broken.  He risks his life to rescue the badly injured Commando during a Freedom Force mission, and makes the very difficult decision to leave Blob and Pyro behind (something he later apologizes to Pyro for).  He goes on a mission to the Savage Land with Pyro to find a Legacy Virus cure, even though he doesn’t have Legacy himself.  He risks his life just to try to help his boyfriend best buddy.  I think Avalanche is a Hufflepuff, through and through.

Pyro: St. John is one that I think could be in Slytherin, since he basically runs into every battle screaming “Look at meeeeee, look what I can do!”  I could also place him in Hufflepuff because he seems quick to form friendships and bond with team-mates, and doesn’t seem to care if he’s now palling around with a team of mutants that he used to try to kill.  But I think that Pyro’s interest in travel and work as a journalist makes him most suited for Ravenclaw.  He might not be the most studious or serious, but he has a genuine curiosity about the world, and he’s willing to do the research.  He wants to see and experience everything he can, first hand.  He hangs out with Hufflepuffs Toad and Avalanche, though, they’re more fun than the “scholarly” students in his own house.

Not to mention, with his blond, “naturally wavy” hair, his puffed up ego, and his prolific writing career, he resembles a certain other (in)famous Ravenclaw.

Hmmmm……

(St. John genuinely had his own adventures and wrote his own books, though.  He is way too proud to plagarize other people’s work.  And maybe his books are just a teensy bit exaggerated, but that’s just artistic license.)

Blob – This is a hard one.  He’s another guy who I don’t think is necessarily ambitious, but he generally seems to be out for himself.  He’s a pretty simple dude, in terms of desires, just wants to rob an occasional bank, have a good fight, and escape to spend his money on beer.  He can be fairly nasty, but he seems to be willing to hang out with his team-mates, and is extremely loyal to the ones that he is close to (especially Unus).  And now as a bartender, he seems pretty cool with anyone at his bar.  That makes me lean towards Hufflepuff, but you know what?

Fuck it.  I’m gonna put Blob in Gryffindor.  They’re the “brave” house, and I think Blob is actually extremely brave. He doesn’t take shit from anyone, and rarely ever seems frightened in battle. 

Blob even dares lay a hand on the person of Magneto!

He’s daring, bold, adventurous – probably chivalry is the only Gryffidnor trait that he lacks.  And even then, he shows loyalty to his friends, and will stand up for people if he likes them enough.  I don’t know if Blob necessarily fights for “justice” or anything like that, but he always seems fairly confident in himself and what he’s doing, which also seems very Gryffindor. He can be very nasty if he thinks someone deserves it, but then, so can some Gryffindors.  

Mystique: I really gotta put her in Slytherin.  She’s always up to something, and it’s always plots within plots.  She really only shows loyalty to herself, and Destiny, with some affection spared towards Kurt and Rogue, whom she also chronically backstabs.  I’m not really sure where else to put her?  She’s intelligent, and fearless enough for Gryffindor, but she’s ultimately so cunning, treacherous and self-interested, I can’t really put her anywhere but Slytherin.

Phantazia: Her obvious intelligence and scientific interest makes me lean towards Ravenclaw, but she’s also fairly cold and calculating.  (Although to be fair, she also shows concern for Pyro when he is sick)  She’s obviously not content to be just a scientific researcher, despite her Ph.D., since she’s running around with the Brotherhood. And we never really learned her reasons. I’m gonna say Slytherin for Phantazia as well, just so I don’t recreate the usual bias and just have the really evil people there.  And no, I don’t think Phantazia is evil.  Self-interested, sure, but not evil.

Destiny: Irene is so mysterious, and at times so manipulative that I’m tempted to put her in Slytherin as well.  But honestly?  I’m thinking Gryffindor.  She’s extremely brave, even in the face of her own death, which she goes to willingly. It’s never clear exactly why she does the things that she does (according to some logic of her visions of the future, I assume), but she clearly thinks that she’s doing the right thing, and following your principles is also a pretty Gryffindor trait.  

Rogue: C’mon, we all know Rogue is a Gryffindor.  She leaves her family and team, and is willing to start fresh  with a group that doesn’t particularly want or like her at first, because it’s the right thing to do.  Well, mostly because she needs help with Carol Danvers in her head, but she stays because it’s the right thing to do, even while her own mother tries repeatedly to lure her back to the Brotherhood.  Rogue absolutely stands up for what she believes in, and she never shies away from a fight.

Mastermind: Ambitious enough to join the Hellfire club, manipulative as fuck, I can’t really put him anywhere but Slytherin.  

Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch - ??????

I feel like I don’t know these two well enough to judge. I mean, obviously they’re heroes, but I don’t want to toss them into Gryffindor just because of that.  Someone with better knowledge of all the details of their personalities can make a better judgement here. 

I think, despite my best efforts, I may have recreated the “Slytherin is the bad house” theme, but at least I put a few shitty people in other Houses, right?  

Feel free to tell me how wrong I am about all of these.    

[waytoomuchfanfiction]

Shoulder Surfing

Author: Emlee_J

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Details: 5k| T | Complete | Hinata Shouyou x Kageyama Tobio

Primary Tags/Warnings: Post Canon | Aged Up Characters | Pining | Humor | Confessions | Getting Together | One Shot

Summary:” It appears the set has ended – though there’s no scoreboard so who knows who’s keeping track – and Hinata turns to his beach volleyball partner, removing his sunglasses with one smooth movement and- oh dear.

Tobio might need to go and lay down on that smooth rock a few feet away to try and calm down. Because Hinata is smiling – bright and wide and infuriatingly perfect – and Tobio had kind of forgotten what it was like to be burnt by sunbeams. Hinata Shouyou stands there, on the beach, with a cap that his new, shorter hair pokes out the sides of in tufts, with fitted shorts and a beautiful smile and-Arms. Nice arms. Very nice arms.”

-In which Kageyama sneaks onto the beach in Brazil to watch Hinata play, and becomes just a little, just a teensy bit obsessed with his new shoulders.

Readers Overall: I seem completely incapable of not clicking on fics tagged ‘thirst’ because my fangirl heart has never related more to a tag. Lol. This is pretty hilarious and cute. I grinned a snickered through this whole thing. Very light and fun read. 

[softlimefluff]

Love’s Holiday - p3

Something cute and fluffy with a teensy bit of implied spice~ Late night PDB reviews and then a warm bath and talking over new manga arcs the next day!

“Baby, we need to go to bed.”

Rohan was obsessively hunched over his laptop, scrolling through the initial reviews of the new Pink Dark Boy chapter. We had finished the big battle finale of the last arc and the new issue of Ultra Jump had released at midnight.

It was now 2am.

The keyboard hadn’t stopped clicking since the reviews started, Rohan taking notes on criticisms, giving little triumphant grins at praise, and stewing over takes that he thought were wrong.

The night of a Pink Dark Boy release was always pretty stressful. 

“Ari, how can everyone be so divided on this?? Someone said it was the best battle yet of the series with the most satisfying ending, but then others are saying I still have open plot holes. Don’t they know that I have to leave a few things unsolved to make room for suspense later???”

“Probably not, babe… Readers can be fickle sometimes. They want resolution now instead of waiting for the payoff.”

With a frustrated sigh, Rohan ran a hand through his hair, staring at the screen.

“Baby, you need to come to bed. Tomorrow’s our last day before going home…”

“Just a little more.” Rohan went back to typing, leaning in closer to the screen.

He wasn’t going to come willingly, so I got up off the bed, walking over to him. “You need to rest before the morning, Han. We’re renting the private bath tomorrow and have the spa day.”

“Yes, but we can relax then. There’s still things to do now.”

“They can wait. Even until home.”

Rohan gave a dissatisfied huff, going quiet again. Leaning down to wrap my arms around his shoulders, I pressed my lips to his neck, kissing softly. His eyelids fluttered, pausing a moment, distracted.

“S-stop, I can’t focus with—“

I kissed again, grinning onto his skin. My plan always worked~

“Mmmm, what was that?~” Kissing down to his collarbone, I slipped a hand under his shirt, rubbing at his stomach.

“Can’t… Hhhnh.” Reaching his hand back, he pulled me into a kiss, shutting the laptop cover. “Don’t stop…” He stood as he kept kissing, pushing me softly onto the bed nearby. “I was getting obsessive again, wasn’t I?”

Squeaking out a reply, I nodded, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“It’s okay. It happens… Mmmnh!” 

Rohan had pulled up my sleep shirt, kissing my stomach for a moment. Then, with a smirk, he sat up and reached over to the lamp nearby, turning it off. “You’re right, we really should go to bed~”

***

By the next afternoon, Rohan and I had made our way, outfitted in yukata, to the private bath we had reserved. The weeks had gone by quickly and we wanted one more opportunity to relax before we were thrown back into the hectic life in Morioh. 

Having been shown in by an attendant, we shut the door and took in the space, breathing a sigh of relief. The room was tiled, with open skylights over the bath and a seating area for cooling off. 

Rohan disrobed, helping me after, then taking my hand as we approached the pool. The room was humid, but not overwhelming, a pleasant warmth against the cooler autumn weather outside.

Getting in first, Rohan made sure I was steady as I joined him, being careful with the baby. He had become much more careful since we found out about the pregnancy, but we had talked about boundaries so it wasn’t smothering or overwhelming.

Settling onto one of the benches, we closed our eyes and adjusted to the temperature, letting the bath’s heat take the weariness from our bodies. Last night had gone pretty late (or was it early?~) and we needed time to rest.

“Babe?” I peeked an eye open, getting a cute view of my husband with damp hair, relaxing in the water.

“Yeah?” He peeked one eye open back, grinning when he saw me.

“Do you wanna talk about Pink Dark Boy now? It might be good to process everything before we go home.”

“Mmmh.” Rohan sat up, interlocking his fingers. “I suppose we should… Since we have the time.”

I laid out on the bench, propping my head up against the wall, waiting to hear his thoughts. Rohan did the same on the opposite end, taking a deep breath.

“So… The new chapter out. The big finale?”

I nodded, listening. 

“I was very pleased with the pacing and the emotional impact we were able to achieve while still leaving openings for a new storyline. Obviously Myo will be a little older for the next part—I think it makes sense to have him grow up more with each arc.”

“Right. It’s not just symbolic of his progress—it’s showing the wisdom that comes with age and training.”

“Exactly. It lets me explore more of his character as well and how his relationship might change with Umai.”

“Does their bond get stronger as they’re companions for longer? Obviously we don’t want Myo to get overpowered, but his changing powers help mitigate that…”

Rohan nodded, shifting position slightly, stretching his arms out.

“I was thinking it would be cool to give Myo some kind of Hydrokinesis? Make him able to manipulate water.”

“Oh like water bending??”

Rohan chuckled, nodding. “I suppose so, but maybe we can have some kind of modifier to make it unique… What if Myo has to taste the water before he can control it?”

“Eugh, what if it’s all nasty tho… I like the concept, but it seems like Myo would get sick pretty quickly. Maybe Umai could purify it first?”

“Mmm, let’s put it down in our notes to think about. It can’t just be unlimited power. That gets boring fast. There have to be some high stakes.”

I smiled over at Rohan, feeling warm and connected—I always felt like that whenever we made up stories together.

“Oh! Guess what.” 

Rohan smiled back, replying. “What?”

“Baby Kishibe can hear us this week. They’re as big as a cucumber and they can recognize voices! And even music! We’ll have to start introducing them to the classics~”

Rohan grinned, sitting up and walking towards me in the water. “Guess we’d better put some Prince on as soon as we get home~”

Laughing, I nodded, holding my stomach. “And Porter Robinson. I think they’ll like Something Comforting.”

Nodding back, Rohan helped me out of the water to sit on the edge, gently rubbing my stomach, staring intently. With a blush, he leaned forward, putting his ear to the small bump.

“H-hi, uh… Little bean? We don’t really know you yet… It’s uh… It’s your dad…” At that, Rohan’s eye welled with tears, holding back his emotions. “Yeah. I’m your dad. And your mom’s here too… We can’t wait to meet you. Well… Actually we can, you need to stay in there for a while more. But. We’re excited to meet you when the time is right.”

I nodded, speaking up. “We love you so much baby Kishibe. We always have. We always wanted you. You’re our little star. We’ll be  counting the days… Probably reading you books! And you’ll start hearing music all the time soon! You’re one lucky bug…”

Pulling me back down, Rohan scooped me up in a hug, holding me close. “I’m the luckiest man in the world, Ari. I’m so glad it’s with you.”

I held him close, tearing up. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else, Han. You’re the only one. The right one.”

We stayed like that for a while longer, letting the warmth of the water and our emotions fill up the spaces in our hearts.

[mostly-anime-trash]

NSFW Alphabet - Katsuki Bakugou

I love reading these, so I wanted to make one of my own :)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Katsuki’s aftercare is more practical than anything. If it’s been a particularly strenuous session, he might lie there for a bit, panting next to you. But once he’s caught his breath, he’s up quickly and fetching a towel or tissues for clean up. And he won’t be the one to clean you up himself- he thinks you’re probably more efficient at it than him, so he’ll let you handle that- but he’ll always provide the supplies.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part is his arms. Why do you think his hero costume is a tank top?? He spends a lot of time sculpting and developing his arms, and he wants to show off his hard work! His favorite body part of his partner’s is definitely their ass. It’s the first place his hands roam to when kissing his partner. During sex, if he’s not in a position to be able to see their ass, he’s definitely grabbing onto it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Katsuki has a fantasy of cumming onto his partner’s face, but he’s too embarrassed to ask. Maybe he’ll work up the courage one day, but for now he just hopes he’ll wind up in a situation that calls for it. Otherwise he’s not picky- he’ll easily oblige to his partner’s preferences (as long as he’s not gonna make no babies!!)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to collect his partner’s underwear, kind of like trophies. Not all of them, but a few select favorites. He always has a pair in his backpack, and he’s slightly paranoid that he might accidentally pull them out with his book in class- although he’s not sure whether he’d be more embarrassed or proud in that moment.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Katsuki is surprisingly inexperienced for someone with so much confidence. His bold personality tends to scare intimidate most potential partners, so he’s learned everything he knows from the 1 or 2 partners he’s had. However, he’s a quick learner and competitive as hell, so of course he wants to be the best, at everything. He lets his intuition (or is it primal instinct?) get him started and relies on his partner’s body language to guide him the rest of the way.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy. A position that allows him to watch his partner’s ass, grab onto his partner’s ass, and take control? Sold.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

This boy is serious as hell. He wants to get everything just right, so if there are any fumbles or blunders in the bedroom, he is more likely to get flustered than to just laugh it off. After being with his partner for a while, he’ll warm up to the idea of teasing, but mostly he’s just focused on trying to knock their socks off.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Katsuki definitely doesn’t shave bare. He thinks it makes him look stupid as hell, so he prefers to keep his pubes trimmed short instead. He is so fixated on impressing his partner and not embarrassing himself that for the first several months, he keeps it meticulously groomed. He’s obsessive about it, so much that he’ll even make excuses to avoid sex if he feels he’s not tidy enough, and then just jack off angrily at home later. (Is it an insecurity thing?) Once he’s more comfortable in the relationship though, he’ll go longer periods between grooming, although rarely more than an extra quarter inch or so.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Katsuki isn’t necessarily romantic, per se. He is very attentive to his partner however. His ego couldn’t handle the blow of being bad in bed, so he needs to make sure his partner is enjoying themselves before he can enjoy himself. He’s secretly just a giant baby who seeks validation as much as anyone else.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This boy’s sex drive is high af and you know he jacks off on the daily at least. Katsuki has an incredible amount of will power and he could restrain himself if he wanted to, but he’s also impulsive as hell and he doesn’t see masturbation as bad or shameful, so he indulges. Plus with his tendency to fixate on things, he often finds himself unable to concentrate if he’s sexually frustrated, so he’ll masturbate just to be able to think clearly again. You better believe this boy is the king of procrasturbating when he’s supposed to be studying.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage. Katsuki is a control freak, of course his kink is bondage. He won’t ever mention it and he won’t try anything until he feels comfortable that his partner would be open to it. Then he’ll experiment with it slowly- pinning up his partner’s arms against the wall during a steamy makeout session, pulling their shirt over their head and wrapping it around their wrists during sex, tugging their hair while he fucks them from behind. If it’s well received, he’ll be investing in some full bed restraints in no time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Katsuki likes to fuck in the shower. Something about it just feels raw to him. You’d think with his favorite position being doggy that he’d like nothing more than to have his partner bent over, palms pressed against the tile, taking him from behind buuuuuuuut *surprise* he actually prefers to hold his partner up, hands under their ass, and fuck them against the shower wall. He tends to be a bit more animalistic in the shower.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Phewwww boy, nothing lights a fire under Katsuki’s ass like a little competition. He wants to be THE best. Any sort of teasing from his partner, and Katsuki is ready to pin them down and show them exactly what he’s capable of. He’s also a sucker for seeing his partner in clothing that hugs their assets. He’ll be pawing at them all day until he can finally get them alone and rip their clothes off.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesome. He might like to show off his partner, but he doesn’t like to share them. Plus he might be a teensy bit insecure they’ll enjoy sex with the other person more than him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Katsuki really, really enjoys receiving oral. It feels great of course, but more than anything he loves to see his partner on their knees, looking up at him with his cock in their mouth. Somehow, that’s when he truly sees how much they desire him. He like giving too, as he feels he can get a more accurate sense of his partner’s level of enjoyment. He gets off if they get off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast or slow, but always hard- he makes sure that every thrust counts. His pace is moderate, usually on the fast-side. When he’s fully consumed by passion (which is almost every sexual encounter), he wants all of his partner, and he wants it now.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Katsuki’s a big fan of quickies, especially when he’s sexually frustrated. And let’s be honest, he basically always frustrated. But he’s never one-sided. He makes sure his partner gets off too.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risk excites the fuck out of Katsuki, although he’d likely be mortally embarrassed if he ever got caught. Storage closet, bathroom, car parking lot… he wants to try it all, but it will probably take some encouragement or teasing from his partner first. More than anything though, Katsuki gets off on his partner almost getting caught. He likes to tease and pleasure them while they’re talking on the phone or when there’s someone just on the other side of the door.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Katsuki will go as long as his partner can. It’s rare for him to find someone with as much stamina as him, so he is happy with whatever they can afford. The only exception is when he’s extremely tired, in which case he can usually only manage one round (and we all know Katsuki has a very strict bedtime).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t feel much of a personal need to use them, but he will eagerly use them on his partner. He’s no stranger to the cock ring, and he prefers when both he and his partner cum at the same time, so he’ll throw in a some extra vibrations if he feels he’s much closer to the finish line than they are.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Once Katsuki has gotten comfortable with his partner, he loves to tease, to the point of his partner literally begging for him. This does depend, however, on how turned on he is already. His seriousness is directly correlated to his horniness, so if he’s too consumed by lust, he’ll get straight to business.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Katsuki is quiet in bed, aside from a few pants and grunts (because that’s what’s #manly or whatever, but mostly because he’s too terrified he’ll make a stupid embarrassing noise that will haunt him for the rest of his life). His partner can elicit some moans from him though, by nibbling on his ear or by gently pressing underneath his balls while climaxing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Katsuki thinks he has a fantasy of watching his partner masturbate in front of him, but truth is he’s way too damn impatient for that. Every single time he caves, unable to resist the urge to replace their hand with his and just do it his damn self. (He does it better anyway.)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We all know Katsuki is ripped, so let’s just get to the good stuff, shall we? This boy is #blessed. He’s a shower and a grower at 5″ soft and 7.5″ erect. His dick is pretty too, straight and curved slightly upward, with a few healthy veins. While his length is nothing to sneeze at, it’s his girth that’s impressive. It’s a good thing he wears those baggy pants (or is it?), because that outline is hard to conceal.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

H I G H. It’s unlikely he’ll ever find a partner that can match him, but regular sex with his partner (daily, please) keeps him satisfied. He’ll be crawling up the walls, resisting the urge to yank it every 30 minutes should he and his partner be separated by distance.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sex usually gives Katsuki a zap of energy any time throughout the day, with the exception of close to bedtime. Then its zzzzzz lights out!

[orbitariums]

you should see yourself* | tom holland + woc / plus sized reader

the asterisk mark signals sexual content! i know i said i wouldn’t post tom smut on this blog but i’ve become super attracted to him lately so. here it is. also, i know that i post rlly cute imagines so this is gonna seem SO out of place but there’s no hiding it! 

also, this starts off really cute so if you just wanna read the cute part and no smut honestly go ahead, i’ll warn when it gets smutty. 

contains: plus-sized/thick reader, lots of talk about body image and self-worth, dick-riding, blowjob, encouragement, nude-taking, very wholesome and not wholesome all at once. hope you enjoy. 

disclaimer: this imagine is not meant to say that you need a skinny white man (whom we love!) to tell u that you're beautiful in order to actually feel/be beautiful! u already are. i just thought the concept was attractive honestly.

Tonight was a low key night at Tom's place. He had rented an expensive penthouse near the area he was filming his new movie and you had tagged along with him, which meant you got to stay with him in his luxury penthouse, watch him film, and be a part of his celebrity lifestyle.

And, being his girlfriend, you were already a part of his celeb lifestyle, reaching low level celebrity status yourself on Instagram, gaining quite a few followers just for being in a relationship with Tom. But here, you got to see what it was really like.

Currently, it was a long day of work and you were finally relaxing with Tom, the both of you exhausted but still somehow awake, keeping each other company. You were both sprawled out in his California king bed, the sheets distraught and pulling in every which way. You were each half covered by the sheets and watching TV on the huge curved TV feet away from you.

Tom was shirtless with his arms sprawled out and a drink pressed to his lips, while you were cuddled into him, your head on his chest and your hands resting on his chest as well. His curls were a mess from filming all day and being out all day but he still looked good.

Next to you on the end table was a box of pizza that only had two slices left, considering the first thing you did when you got home only an hour ago was order a pizza and cuddle in the dark bedroom. The only lights in the room were coming from the glare of the TV screen. Tom spotted you still awake on his chest and hummed, kissing the top of your head and running his fingers through your hair,

     "Oh, you're still awake. I thought for sure you'd passed out."

     "Nope, still up," you said, blinking tiredly as fuzz was coming up in your eyes.

You wished you could say you were up because you weren't tired, but that was a lie, you both were. Tom was tired from filming and being out all day every day, and you were tired because you insisted on being by his side all day every day and being a supportive girlfriend. You wanted to be with Tom as much as possible, see it through that he was enjoying his career and just be able to experience the magic that was his acting.

But being Tom's girlfriend could be tiring, even if you just wanted to support as much as possible. Even though you had gained a few fans from being Tom's girl, you had also gained a lot more media attention than you had bargained for, and a lot of negativity.

The negativity surrounding you dating Tom wasn't a big deal, you didn't care much about that aspect of it. But you did care about the things people said about your physical appearance - first there were the people who were angry that you were a woman of color dating Tom, deemed unworthy for him simply because of your skin color.

Your friends had all said you were way out of his league and that Tom was lucky to even have the privilege of dating a woman of color, but some people on the internet had very strong opinions against that. Next, was the explicit body shaming you endured.

None of the hate was very terrible on either end but it hurt your heart a little when you posted a picture of yourself in a bathing suit or on the red carpet with Tom in a dress you thought was nice, and saw those blurbs of comments talking about how big your boobs were, the noticeable bit of stomach you had, your thick thighs or your cellulite.

It was embarrassing to have your body nit picked like that, and as much as you tried to tell yourself that none of those comments mattered and that you were beautiful no matter what other people tried to tell you, and that every body was beautiful, you still thought about those things from time to time.

The hate wasn't so excessive that anyone really seemed to notice, even Tom. He of course was too busy commenting heart eye and drooling emojis on every single one of your posts, and he never occupied himself with haters or negative energy, but he still wanted to protect you with every fiber of his being. So it wasn't that he was ignoring the hate or being dismissive of it, it was simply that he was too obsessed with you to even acknowledge that anyone else could hate you.

So, you were up, overthinking, as you sometimes did, all the comments that you got and all the hate messages you received, as few as there were, prowling your mind.

You looked up at him in search for his eyes, but he was distracted by the TV. So you patted his chest, your head still resting down on him and purred his name,

      "Tom?"

     "Hmm?" he hummed, looking down at you and going back to massaging your head.

You bit down on your lip tentatively, like you were scared of how he might react to what you were going to say,

     "How do you deal with all the... the hate comments?"

Tom just smiled lightly and laughed, a bit confused,

     "What do you mean, love?"

You shrugged nonchalantly as if none of this related to you, trying to sound as oblivious as possible, as if you were simply curious and not practically asking for advice,

     "You know, like, people being mean to you and nasty for no reason? How do you deal with that? Like, getting mean comments or messages."

Tom shrugged too, as if this were no big deal to him,

     "I mean, luckily, I don't get a lot of hate. But it definitely happens - every now and then there'll be some rude comment or something that makes me just a teensy bit sad. But then I perk up and remember it's all good. Because I have a beautiful life, with beautiful people around me and that person is probably just lacking beauty in their life, that's why they feel the need to comment mean things."

     He could sense how you had paused, a slight tension rising in the air as you just sat there, and he looked down at you again, his strong hand now caressing your arm gently up and down. He could sense you were deep in thought, staring into the dim and darkness and thinking about nothing.

     "Why? Something bothering you?" he asked, his tone concerned as he gazed down at you, stroking your arm and nuzzling his chin into the top of your head.

You looked up at him again and couldn't help the pout that had made its way onto your face, frowning,

     "People say... mean things under my posts sometimes. Now that we've been out publicly. I didn't say anything to you because I didn't think you noticed and I didn't think it mattered that much, but it's been getting to me. Just a little."

Tom sat up a bit and cradled you in his arms slightly so you were still cuddling with him when he moved, furrowing his brows,

     "What? Who's saying stuff? What are they saying?"

If you hadn't been so deep in thought you would've smiled, even laughed, at his sudden posture of concern and how fast he had gone from sleepy and unbothered to alert and concerned. But you were honestly just trying not to cry. It was probably the mixture of hurt from the comments you got and the fact that you were exhausted that was making you feel so emotional all of the sudden, but it was all coming to the surface now.

You had tucked away the feeling each of these hurtful comments gave to you, letting the hurt sit and soak in some locked away place for far too long, with no outlet to let out the way these comments made you feel about yourself. You had even become a bit self conscious in real life, gazing at yourself for longer than usual in the mirror when you were undressing, or wondering how your thighs really looked to other people when you sat down.

You even found yourself self conscious around Tom, even though you knew he loved every part of you for who you were. But sometimes in the bedroom you became careful of how you moved or what angle you were at, and although these moments didn't happen often, the fact that they occurred at all on account of the fact that those comments were stored somewhere in some tiny place in your mind was something to note.

You didn't want it to bother you at all, and you wished you were one of those people who could say it didn't bother you and mean it, but unfortunately you weren't. Still, you didn't want Tom to worry too much, so you just said it nonchalantly, as if it didn't bother you much,

     "I dunno. Just random people... sometimes your fans who I guess aren't really your fans. They'll just comment, just... mean stuff."

     "What mean stuff, babe?" Tom pried, and you cursed him for being so caring because you really didn't want him to worry so much, but you knew you shouldn't downplay anything or lie to him.

You almost felt like crying and Tom could tell from your very voice that you were holding back tears that had been brewing up inside of you for far too long,

     "They just... they say things about us. Saying I don't deserve you because I'm not white, which is like, okay whatever fuck you. But then some people will nitpick and point out things about my body that I never even noticed. I know I'm not like, a fucking skinny Amazonian goddess, but I'm not a monster. Like, I never noticed my cellulite or my rolls or my stretch marks until after that."

You had let a tear shed, but you weren't thinking about Tom anymore, you were just letting your feelings free flow.

     "It's like, those type of comments make you take a long, hard look in the mirror and they make me feel like picking at my entire body. It's like, it's not that many comments and I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but it's like the first time since grade school anyone has said anything about my body that has really stuck. You know? It hurts, even though I'm probably one of the most confident people I know."

It didn't even take a beat for Tom to start speaking once you finished. He shook his head slowly over and over and wrapped his arms around you.

     "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Come here, baby," he said.

And with that, he lifted you up gently and placed you over his lap so you weren't cuddling your head into his chest anymore, but you were straddling him, your legs on either side of him. He was making direct eye contact with you even in the dark of the night and the dim lighting of your room. He placed his hands on your arms and was caressing your arms up and down gently.

     "You... are beautiful," he said, his face so serious and yet so faithful that you knew he was telling you that you had better believe it.

Your entire body felt warm as he graduated from your arms to your waist, letting his hands run along your sides - you were in just a pair of boy briefs and a sheer blouse you only wore inside. His hands ran along every curve on your side, every part of you that you had been overanalyzing in the mirror due to comments, his hands seeming to possess some type of mending magic that made it okay again. Because he loved it all, and you did too, beneath all the comments that had been bogging you down.

     "Yeah?" he said, less of a question than an agreement that he wanted you to acknowledge.

     "Yeah," you said meekly, nodding gently, looking down into his eyes.

He positioned himself so he was leaning upright against his pillow and his hands gripped onto your sides so he could hold you in place, and he leaned forward to press soft kisses to your neck,

     "Never let anyone tell you or make you think any different, okay?"

     "I know, but-"

     "Nope, no buts. You are definitely the sexiest woman I've ever laid my eyes on, okay, inside and out. And a lot of people want what you have, that's why they leave those comments. Or they're really sad about their lives, unlike the two of us. Those people that say those silly things like that are crocks of shit, honestly. And I know it's easier said than done, but you can't let that get to you, babe."

You pouted out of happiness, cooing,

     "I love you."

     "Love you too, darling. I'm serious though, do not ever let a stupid asshole, 'fan' of mine or not, make you feel less than. Hell, it's me who doesn't deserve you. I don't ever want you to look in the mirror and see anything less than what you are, which is a beautiful young lady who deserves the world. You're hardworking, smart, and you know what you want. Not to mention you're so supportive in everything I do, which is so much to ask for. So fuck them," Tom said, closing off beautifully.

     Now you wanted to cry, this time for the right reasons. Your bottom lip quivered as you gazed into his eyes, and saw the admiration and want for you in his eyes, and heard the genuine tone behind his words.

     "Baby, stop, you're gonna make me cry," you joked, chuckling a little.

     "You're gonna make me cry," Tom said back to you, and you laughed at his ever so charming, personable personality. "Come here," he then said, his voice lower and less baby talk like.

     "I'm here," you teased, smiling down at him playfully.

     "I mean come here," he said, his hands traveling down to your butt as he pulled you closer onto his lap so you were straddling him directly on top of his crotch.

[ okkk folks we are entering smut zone if you do not wish to read the smutty part ] 

He was wearing a hoodie and some boxers and you were thinking of how easy it would be to take both those things off of his body. His hands were traveling from your waist to your lower thighs and cupping your ass from time to time, and he was smiling mischievously, that sort of know it all smirk he had appearing on his face.

    "Not to be possessive but I like knowing I'm the only guy who sees you like this. I mean really like this. You know how many guys would die to have you on top of them, and it's me who wins the jackpot?" Tom said, his teeth showing in his small smile.

    "Oh yeah?" you challenged him playfully, smirking back.

    "Hell yeah. Kinda crazy how that works, yeah?"

    "Super crazy," you nodded, just giving in to whatever he said and giggling.

    Before you knew it he had pressed his lips against yours and he was kissing up against your neck and speaking softly into your ear, already taking off your blouse with swiftness. You bit down on your lip, covering your chest with your arm because it was cold, and smiling cheekily down at him.

    "You're so sexy," he said unashamedly, leaning back and surveying your body and how you looked with no top on, now wanting to see how you looked with nothing else on tonight.

    You just giggled, used to Tom's comments during your times like this, but now it meant something more and you felt giddy inside. You looked down and started to palm him through his boxers. He was already getting hard but your touch made him grow rock hard beneath your palms, and the friction between the two of you made you both sweat.

You were leaving that girly mode and you both knew what you wanted, it was so clear. Tom's eyes, usually bright and animated, were now hooded and lustful, and you got a sense of excitement that you were the only one who got to see him like this.

You pulled at the collar of his hoodie and cocked your head to the side, surveying him, and asked,

     "You want me? Only me?"

Tom nodded ever so seriously and you saw his jaw clench,

    "Only you."

    "Promise?" you teased him, kissing him right on the lips, a long kiss that would've lasted longer had you not pulled away first.

    "Of course," he said, and his voice threatened to crack just because he was so in awe of you and the control you had over him - he didn't understand how anyone could say these things about you.

    You slid out of your underwear, Tom's eyes immediately dipping low to the exposed skin, filled with lust and want once more, nearly salivating. He let his fingers drag absentmindedly along your clit, focusing on that one area and listening to your change in breathing patterns - he already knew what you liked but he always listened. He was rough and yet loving, two of his fingers grinding up against your clit in slow circles, making you erratic.

    He looked up at you, though you were looking down at his hand, continuing those wicked, slow circles into your clit and in a lower voice than usual he said,

    "I want you to ride me." When your only response was a whimper that stemmed from the stimulation he was giving you, he said, "Yeah?"

    "Mm hm, I got it."

     "And I want you to know you look fucking fantastic taking my dick, okay?" he pushed some of your hair behind your ear. "Really do it, okay?"

    "God, yes," he stopped the motions against your clit and slid his hand away, placing his fingers in your mouth for you to suck.

    "Good girl. So wet already."

You bucked your hips against his erection in his pants and he understood, sliding his sweats down until his erection sprang out, sitting against his stomach until he wrapped his hand around the base and made you scoot closer. To tease him, you grinded your hips up against the base of his dick, making it wet with your juices. You looked at him, head already hung back in bliss, and licked your upper lip with your tongue. That worked every time.

     "Does that feel good, Tommy?" you asked him with a devilish grin on your face, your eyes teasing and inticing in the darkness of the room.

     "Yes, baby, feels so good," he groaned, facing you again and watching your hips roll against him, your wet pussy smearing against his lower abdomen.

     You took his dick into your hands again and cupped him in your hands, stroking him up and down with both hands closed around him, smirking at him. He was enjoying it, you could tell, his stomach rose and fell faster and he had to clear his throat abruptly. But he stopped you, placing his hands on your waist,

     "Stop that, darling, you're gonna make me come already."

You tilted your head innocently,

     "But don't you want to?"

He was placing soft kisses against your neck again, and squeezing your ass with his hands as he shook his head and in a low voice said,

     "Not if it's not inside you."

You bit down on your lip when he said that and your heart jumped, and now you were bored of teasing him. You positioned yourself above his tip and he kept his hands tight around your waist as you let the head of his dick tease your entrance. You mewled out, your face contorting in pleasure, your mouth dropping open slightly,

     "Baby that feels so good," you gasped, still not letting yourself drop all the way down.

Tom pressed his lips against yours and you let his tongue inside your mouth, kissing passionately until you found the sensation of his dick pressing against your flit too strong and had to do something. You dropped your hips down slowly onto him, taking in the whole of his head and the shaft until you dropped fully down onto the base of him.

You had already pulled apart from him in the kiss by the time you started to slide down, desperate moans leaving your lips. Tom on the other hand, has his jaw clenched fully and his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. You sunk down completely onto him and then circled your hips around him so you could feel all of him inside every part of you.

     "Baby," you whimpered.

     "Mm hm?" Tom answered back, his voice just as soft and weak.

     "I can feel all of you inside of me, so fucking deep inside of me," you whined, rolling your hips once again as he hit all your spots.

     "Yeah? You like when I fill you up, huh?" he sighed out and brushed some of your hair back, a question to which you had only physical responses as answers.

You licked your lips as you placed your hands down on his chest for support as you lifted yourself up and started to ride him, slowly at first and then picking up speed, your breaths becoming short, high pitched gasps. Tom was filling you so fucking well and at the same time, he felt your wet pussy around him and how warm you felt around him, fitting him like a glove. 

Your walls surrounded his length and the feeling of your wet folds slicking against him, increasing lubrication made him cry out. He felt like he had something stuck in his throat as he kept swallowing, but he couldn't help but let a few deep groans escape his lips.

You felt his hands all over you, every part of you, touching and kissing and caressing your body as if to remind you how beautiful it all was and how much he enjoyed seeing it, especially like this. At one point he had his eyes shut closed, hand covering his forehead and temples and his mouth open, just moaning and grunting.

    "Fuck, babe," he groaned out, breathing out unsteadily from his nose and

    "I'm close, baby," you panted, practically digging your nails into his shoulders.  

   "Come for me, YN," Tom said, biting down on his lips. You started to slow your movements, going from bouncing on his dick when you came up to the top and then slowly grinding your hips forward once you sunk down onto him, a move that made him moan out and jerk his hips forward into you. "Fucking hell," he moaned out, closing his eyes once again. "Christ, YN," he chuckled out.

     "This gets you every single time," you said, having to hold back a moan to laugh.

He laughed a bit,

    "I'm a simple man."

But just a few moments later your casual talk became full of filth and praise yet again, Tom staying true to the purpose of you riding him and encouraging you to come. He didn't just start sex with you just to start it, he wanted to see you in your confident space again and when you were riding him, you were incredibly confident and comfortable. 

You looked like a goddess on top of him and he wanted you to see that, wanted you to remember that no one else's opinion mattered. He liked the feeling of being dominated by you, and what better way to dominate than to be on top?

    He started to praise you, his words filthy and somehow wholesome at the same time, making you want him to pound into you as you increased your speed as he spoke, slamming down onto him and putting you both into an ecstatic state.

   "That's it babe, there you go darling," he said, smiling and smirking up at you, his eyes unashamedly focused on your breasts bouncing up and down each time you took him all in and then came up again. "You've always been incredibly good at this, YN, you know that?"

    "Yeah? How long have we been dating again?" you giggled.

    "Just over a year," Tom smirked. "And you always look so good taking all of me, don't you?"

You just whimpered in response, overwhelmed by his words and the feeling of him inside of you, your head rolling back and hair hanging behind your head.

     "Yeah," Tom bit his lip with a mischievous smile and kept talking you up. "You look so beautiful doing something so filthy. You're so gorgeous, everything about you is, inside and out. Don't forget that."

    "Tom," you moaned out his name, and he cocked his head, his hands now rubbing on your thighs and waist, holding onto you tight,

    "Yes, love?"

    "Don't stop, I'm gonna come," you moaned out, feeling the build up in your stomach and needing that final release to let it all go.

    Tom inched his hand forward and started to rub slow circles on your clit, heightening every sensation you were feeling and making your stomach lurch with a feeling of euphoria. He was focused on his hand for a moment, but then looked up at you, his eyes deep and genuine but a small smirk on his face. It didn't even sound like him for a moment, when he casually noted,

    "You should see yourself from this angle."

At that, you nearly made a full stop because of the earth-shattering orgasm you were experiencing, letting go everything that had been built up. You couldn't hear for a second, but from the look on Tom's face, your orgasm and clenching around him as you came continuously led him to his own orgasm. You were breathing hard and fast, feeling his hot pumps of cum spilling into you and dripping out of you at once.

You were already about to come, but it seemed like those words got you to that point. You had heard Tom say so many beautiful things to you, both in the bedroom and outside the bedroom, about you as a person, how much he liked your body, but he hadn't said anything quite like that before. It was something he noted so casually as if he were just making conversation but it drove you into a frenzy that made you practically short circuit. He had spun you into a web of wonders that you had never been in before, and his words were plastered in your mind.

To think that Tom liked to see you in such an unbridled state, hair messy, every bit of your body, every "flaw", nook and cranny visible to him - all your stretch marks, cellulite, fat, discoloration, everything that people took the time out of their day to make hateful comments about. To think that anyone could love all of it regardless of your own self doubts. You felt incredibly appreciated and flattered, as if this was his first time complimenting you. 

He'd never said anything quite like that before, not in that voice, not with that satisfied, in awe look on his face. He was in awe of you, his eyes said that he thought you were an absolute angel. He wanted you to realize you were perfect in every way, that all your growth didn't have to do with your physical form but the even better person you became.

You had both slowed a while ago, and now you were just cockwarming him, your hips sunk down entirely on him. You were still throbbing from your orgasm and you could feel him pulsing inside of you. Tiredly, he murmured,

    "Baby, get up. I wanna see what a mess we made."

Slowly, whimpering all the same, you slid up off his dick and let his cum spill out of you and onto  his abdomen. Your clit was throbbing at the sight and you just wanted to lick him clean, even with how tired you were. And so you did, and he was moaning doggedly and maneuvering your head gently with his hand as you sucked him clean of your taste, and then shared a full lipped kiss with him that lasted for quite some time in the darkness. 

You were still in a disarray but your thoughts were coming together, slowly now. You were entirely naked and you lay there resting for a moment, but Tom stayed up next to you with his arm around you because you murmured how you "still wanted to talk" after you got a nap.

    After a few minutes you woke up, and feeling confident, you didn't feel the need to cover up. You let Tom clean you up with a cloth and put new underwear on, then curled right up into his lap. He had wiped the sweat off his forehead and body and was wearing boxers now, and you sat down on his lap, straddling his abdomen.

    "I love you," Tom said, kissing your forehead. "So much."

    "I love you too, Tommy," you smiled and kissed his lips shortly. "I'm so glad I have you."

    "Me too, darling," he snuggled his nose against yours. He was holding your hands and playing with his fingers when he said. "Babe?"

    "Yeah?" you brought his hand up to your lips and kissed it.

    "You came so hard, like, I've never felt you come that hard before."

    "Really?" you smirked. "You know, it was all you. When you said that... I kind of lost it."

    "Said what?" Tom chuckled. "I've got short term memory after that incredible experience."

    You giggled and bit down on your lip,

    "You said (you impersonated his accent), 'you should see yourself from this angle.' You know, you've never said anything quite like that to me. Sure, you've said a lot of hot things but this was something different. I think I short-circuited."

      "Really? You liked that that much?" Tom asked slyly, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. "Maybe I should do it more often then," he said, biting down on your bottom lip and pulling down slowly, his voice muffled.

You laughed and pulled away,

    "I'm definitely inviting you to. And hey... thanks. For what you said, just, everything you said. I needed it."

    "No, you don't need me to tell you that you're beautiful. You already know that, sometimes people just get into our heads. But we're not going to let that happen anymore, right?"

    "Hell no. Fuck em."

    "Fuck em," Tom said. He seemed to get an idea as he cocked his head. "In fact..." he grabbed his phone next to him. "I'm going to post a picture of you right now. From this very magnificent angle."

    You giggled,

    "Tom. I'm naked. And it's dark."

    "Yeah but iPhones have got flash for a reason. And you can cover yourself with your arm. Or I can just take a picture of you and not post it. Or nothing at all. It's your body," Tom said, shrugging, but the way he was acting, how badly you could tell he wanted this photo of you at this angle for safe keeping was a turn on and you appreciated the gesture so much.

You laughed,

    "Okay, I'll let you post it. But isn't this a bit scandalous for your Instagram followers? And Marvel?"

    Tom shrugged,

    "If they can hate on you they can see you on top of me, I think."

    You snorted and posed for the picture, just a simple sly smile to the camera with your hands covering your breasts, a picture Tom snapped of you from the waist up.

    "Now that's photography," Tom said, and he uploaded it to Instagram with the caption "my girl ♡" and watched the internet grow in flames in the span of ten minutes.

    You spent the rest of the night cuddling and sleeping in each others arms, and from then on, no amount of hate comments could ever put you down.

[vulpesmellifera]

Fics I Read & Loved: May 2019

The April list is here.

I love coming up with these lists, but June and July were filled with lots of my own writing! So this one is very late, lol. Working on June’s list now. 

You get the 2019 list (Johnlock and Mystrade), and the 2018 list (so much Johnlock), plus a few Hannigram fics at the end. Don’t be surprised if you see a few Good Omens fics in next month’s list!

Sherlock Fic Recs for May 2019

Just a Cuppa by green_violin_bow. Mystrade. Explicit. 3,880 words. Exhausted after a case that required participation from both of them, Greg and Mycroft end up sharing a bed...I mean, seriously, what could happen?

The Old Familiar Sting by songlin. Johnlock. Teen. 2,961 words. Sherlock doesn’t want John to realize he’s autistic. 

That Teenage Feeling by akitsuko. Johnlock. Explicit. 12,397 words. John decides to try and set Sherlock up with a date. But when he sees a man flirt with Sherlock, he’s seized with jealousy. The jealousy is delicious.

In For a Pint by MissMilquetoast. Johnlock. Teen. 9,840 words. Sherlock, Greg, and Molly try to get John out in the dating game after Mary’s death. John doesn’t exactly appreciate it, and surprises them all.

Star Child by bookjunkiecat. Mystrade. Teen. 1,261 words. Mycroft is an unlikely candidate for a tattoo. But it means a lot to him. Turns out someone else he knows can appreciate it, too.

Winter in London by Waid. Johnlock. Not Rated. 45,112 words. Victorian AU and rape recovery fic. Holmes is knocked out and Watson deals with the last stages of a case. He tries to hide what happened from his friend. 

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe. Johnlock. Gen. 5,504 words. John returns to 221B a broken man. Sherlock is very considerate - a little too considerate. John begins thinking he might not be the only broken man.

Hurts and Comforts by Lavender_and_Vanilla. Mystrade. Not Rated. 2,112 words. Adorable ficlets - five in all! The last chapter is distinctly a sickfic, the others are all hurt/comfort, just a little something to touch your heart and make you smile.

Recovery by Tammany. Mystrade. Gen. 3,350 words. Mycroft suffers an assassination attempt that leaves him unsteady and in pain. Lestrade is a natural caretaker. Lovely short story.

Coffee, Lies, and Cheesecake by siriusblue. Mystrade. Teen. 1,516 words. Adorable coffee shop AU wherein Mycroft finds a nice, quiet coffee shop with a handsome barista. But the silver haired barista is not all he seems!

Barter System by brbsoulnomming. Johnlock. Explicit. 6,982 words. This one is sooo sweet. A touch of angst, too, but it’s perfect. Sherlock and John start a bartering system with their clothes. 

A Bit of Indulgence by beltainefaerie. Johnlock. Not Rated. 3,364 words. One of my favorite tropes! John and Sherlock run into an old army buddy of John’s while on a case at Pride.

Tempting by bookjunkiecat. Mystrade. Mature. 1,602 words. Smut and doughnuts, this is good!

Seize the Day by siriusblue. Mystrade. 1,664 words. Mycroft is a human rights lawyer having a bad day at work. Greg is a cute barista.

A Model Patient by EventHorizon. Mystrade. Teen. 1,800 words. A most humorous story of a government official’s illness and his model patient behavior.

The Golden Egg by bookjunkiecat. Johnlock. Mature. 4,259 words. Having John and Watson is all he could ever ask for. Things come to a head after an Easter egg hunt at Aunt Harry’s.

Shining Tigers by Tammany. Mystrade. Explicit. 2,428 words. Mycroft and Greg are mature men who get on with each other. It seems only natural for a comfortable courtship to unfold.

I Do by bookjunkiecat. Mystrade. Teen. 1,102 words. Greg starts having doubts the night before the wedding. Mycroft learns why.

A Little Bit of Irritation by thecount. Mystrade. Not Rated. 11,789 words. Sherlock dives off of a building. Greg is in trouble with the Met. Mycroft sets it right, and then, they find themselves getting closer, though it’s not easy.

Taking Care by Mice. Mystrade. Gen. 1,497 words. Greg comforts Mycroft directly after he events at Sherrinford.

The Hand of Friendship by Topicabo. Mystrade. Teen. 3,925 words. Sweet, sweet story (with just a teensy bit of angst) of a close friendship that tips into something more.

Mystrade Goes Grocery Shopping by Lavender_and_Vanilla. Mystrade. Gen. 1,659 words. Hahaha, Greg makes Mycroft go shopping. Cute little fic wherein Mycroft realizes there might be something to this suggestion.

Pebble by bookjunkiecat. Johnlock. Gen. 1,088 words. Holy fucking Christ, if this isn’t the cutest thing I’ve read recently.

What’s Warranted? by Lavender_and_Vanilla. Mystrade. Explicit. 1,285 words. Soft and sweet. Greg can’t find his warrant card, and he knows Mycroft must have stolen it in a bid for morning sex.

The Comfort of Touch by sanguisuga. Mystrade. Teen. 2,132 words. Greg comforts a touch-starved Mycroft after a grievous loss. Sweet and soft.

Can You See Me? by stripyjumpers. Johnlock. Teen. 10,139 words, John is going blind, and has no idea what to tell his flat mate. Beautiful little story.

Sherlock fics I loved in May 2018 are under the cut. So are the Hannigrams.

Sherlock Fic Recs from May 2018

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68. Johnlock. Mature. 203,273 words. I reread this recently, and it’s so fucking amusing. Mycroft leaves John and Sherlock with a clone baby. The new dynamic at 221B leads John to reconsidering where he stands with Sherlock. Post-Reichenbach. 

Full Disclosure by Itsallfine. Johnlock. Explicit. 7,032 words. John gets invited to a night out with army buddies and brings Sherlock along to try and deflect ridicule for showing up alone. Some things get said. 

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror. Johnlock. Explicit. 58,887 words. I think the Fake Relationship trope is my fave. John and Sherlock have to investigate a therapy centre for same-sex couples. Post-season four, so you know there’s a lot of drama!

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01. Johnlock. Explicit. 36,833 words. Sherlock lives a life without John for ten years after John breaks off their friendship when Sherlock returns. John gets divorced from Mary and returns to London. This is worth every reread.

Dawn Before the Rest of the World series by PoppyAlexander. Johnlock. Explicit. 65,164 words. This is sweet and John Watson is stupidly romantic while Sherlock is ridiculously buttoned up. Downton Abbey-esque.

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy. Johnlock. Explicit. 30,568 words. Hello Fake Relationship Trope, I love you. John, Sherlock, and Mycroft go gallivanting in Scotland for Mummy’s birthday. Sherlock told Mummy that he and John are engaged to get Mummy off his back about love and relationships. John goes along with it.

The Handler by saturn_in_retrograde. Johnlock. Explicit. 11,300 words. This one is hot. Alternate meeting - Sherlock is convalescing in the family home. John Watson shows up to apply for a job training dogs. 

Ghosting by johnwatso. Johnlock. Explicit. 22,590 words. John Watson has a tattoo that Sherlock knows he didn’t see before Reichenbach. He can’t help but obsess over it, forcing John’s hand and his own in exploring the nature of their relationship.

The Way to a Man’s Heart by SwissMiss. Johnlock. Teen. 21,273 words. John is living at Baker St after the death of Mary and the baby. Greg asks Sherlock to be his best man, which leads to tension between Sherlock and John. Then a connection to an old flame.

The Strait of Juan de Fuca by mightypog. Johnlock. Teen. 6,400 words. A gorgeous post-Reichenbach piece, where Sherlock takes John to Canada, and in the wilderness there, hopes to reconnect with his old friend and blogger.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror. Johnlock. Johnlock. Explicit. 42,031 words. Mary and John get into a car accident that paralyzes John’s lower arm and hand. The baby is incoming, so Mary asks Sherlock to take care of John while she prepares for birth. 

A Very Sherlock Musical by flawedamythyst. Johnlock. Teen. 11,980 words. This one had me laughing. Sherlock won’t sing with anyone, and John is upset that Sherlock won’t sing their duet. 

If Equal Affection Cannot Be by blueink3. Johnlock. Explicit. 31,156 words. This is a beautiful story of estrangement and reunion, where Rosie is a pivotal character and Sherlock and John have many old feelings to deal with.

To Keep Quiet by Salambo06. Johnlock. Explicit. 11,091 words. The boys have been through a lot. Rosie and John come to stay temporarily at 221B Baker St. Beautifully told short story outlining their trials and tribulations after Mary and Culverton Smith.

What You’re Missing by kedgeree. Johnlock. Mature. 16,339 words. Sherlock is disdainful toward love, and John decides he needs to show him what he’s missing, and why that’s important. 

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221B. Johnlock. Explicit. 20,004 words. Sherlock surprises John with an early retirement, but he convinces John to join him in Sussex. What follows is a lovely story of two men getting together. 

A Diseased Fancy by J_Baillier. Johnlock. Mature. 85,088 words. Spooky, creepy, and awesome. Sherlock and John get complicated, and then Victor Trevor shows up. Shit gets weird. An awesome story. Did I say awesome already?

A Case for Domestic Propinquity by SilentAuror. Johnlock. Explicit. 32,308 words. Renovations are underway at Baker Street, and Sherlock is wondering how he can convince John to stay with Rosie. But there are a lot of truths to uncover.

Never (Turn Your Back to the Sea) by DiscordantWords. Johnlock. Explicit. 39,968 words. This is a fantastic story. Sherlock wants John to stay but John just visits with Rosie. Eurus is kind of a bitch, but she eventually gives Sherlock the key.

A Wizarding Barista’s Field Guide to Seducing a Muggle by paradigmfinch. Johnlock. Teen. 29,344 words. I mean, this is just one of the cutest things I’ve ever read. 

On the Losing Side by missselene. Johnlock. Explicit. 8,210 words. Sherlock and John stumble into a physical relationship, and they don’t talk about it.

Time on my hands by mildredandbobbin. Johnlock. Mature. 7,179 words. I love this one. Sherlock decides to go cottaging. John eventually finds out.

State of Flux by Atiki. Johnlock. Explicit. 24,655 words. Sherlock and John slide into a relationship without Sherlock really realizing. The couch scene is one of my favorite things in this.

Sussex by SilentAuror. Johnlock. Explicit. 26,640 words. Casefic and bed-sharing and post-Reichenbach, oh my!

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild. Johnlock. Explicit. 77,349 words. Mycroft and Sherlock insist John goes back to Mary for his safety. Eventually, John has had enough of everyone else making decisions for him. 

Masters of Ink by IndyBaggins. Johnlock. Explicit. 67,482 words. What a great AU, and what angst! John and Sherlock are tattoo artists competing on a reality show. 

Recovery by mainegirlwrites. Johnlock. Mature. 26,935 words. Sherlock is attacked while on a case and is disfigured. John takes care of him.

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird. Johnlock. Explicit. 152,875 words. This is an interesting concept and a fun story. Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship in one world. Sherlock and John are not. Somehow, John and Omega John swap worlds. 

Hannigram

Marriage of Inconvenience by fragile-teacup. Explicit. 3,563 words. Why do I love Hannibal and Will together so much? This short fic is and many other fics like it are part of the reason why. In this one, Hannibal is being deported! Will offers up a solution.

This Dangerous Game by MissDisoriental. Explicit. 270,260 words. This one is a fantastic historical AU set in London at the time of Jack the Ripper. Will is visiting from America and on the case. Hannibal is fascinated by this young, intelligent man.

Kindling by gleamingwholeanddeadly. Explicit. 1,769 words. Hannibal has a clingy patient. Will pretends to be his date at a social event where the patient will attend.

Prey by Miss_Lv. Explicit. 6,959 words. Hannibal meets Will in the woods. He comes to discover more about himself after violent and sexual interactions with the strange hermit.

[metricanxiety]

I’ve Been Wishing For You

aww hell yeah. i added in a teensy bit of spaceboy!dan becuase i live for that shit ;))))

also phil has a tattoo but hes not a punk lets be cleAR

-

Phil had always loved the rain.

He didn’t like being caught in it, but he loved the comfortable atmosphere of being curled up in blankets as the rain poured outside. Especially when he was at work.

Owning a flower/plant/coffee shop wasn’t the easiest, but why would Phil ever do anything that was easy? He loved what he did. He loved the people that came in, his regulars.

Phil’s shop was really unique, especially being on the corner of a busy street in the heart of London. It was white on the outside, with vines growing on the walls, with the logo, that Phil designed himself, painted onto the window. He had flowers growing in pots on all eight tables, with even more bins filled with various plants, succulents, and mosses. This was his passion.

The shop smelled strongly of the outdoors, which you don’t smell very often in London, and soft whiff of coffee. Not only did he make flower and plant arrangements, but he also served some of the best coffee served in London, which had turned the place into a cafe as well.

Phil was so successful with his business, he had employees working full time, and the regulars had started giving him reviews on Yelp, which were fantastic. His business was booming, not one moment of the day was quiet around him. 

But Phil wasn’t happy.

Of course, he was happy that his dream had finally come true, but he wasn’t satisfied with what his life had become. His job was his life, and that’s not the ‘dream’ Phil had in mind. When he was just getting started, he dreamed of having a family work alongside him, making the place more personal, more appealing to families. But he was 29 now, and hadn’t dated anyone in three years. 

He wanted the life of one of his regulars, Dan. 

Dan was an astronomy major in Uni, and had a teaching degree. He taught year fives about the stars, and planets, and at twenty five years old. He came in after school had let out every day, and ordered the same caramel latte, and sat to grade papers. Or well, put ‘good job!’ and ‘amazing work!’ stickers on the margins. The handwriting was almost too messy to read, but it was an A for effort. 

Dan seemed so happy with what his life had become, and Phil was jealous. Since Dan had been coming in regularly, they had gotten to know each other quite well. Dan was the only real friend Phil had in his life anymore, and he wasn’t going to let go of him anytime soon. 

Now, although Phil hated to admit it, he was actually head over heels for Dan. He couldn’t quite explain what it was, maybe the curls the swept to the left on his head, or how long and awkward he was, or the way his brown eyes would light up whenever he talked about what he was passionate about. Phil found Dan to be quite the most gorgeous human he had ever come in contact with. 

Phil always looked forward to three thirty, because that was the time Dan would always show up. He made sure to have a caramel latte hot n ready for Dan’s arrival, and two freshly cut peonies to have on Dan’s table. They were Dan’s favorite flower, due to the fact that Phil had them on the table the first time Dan went to the shop. And ever since Phil had basically fallen for Dan, he never failed to give him peonies. But could you blame Phil? The flowers stood for romance, he couldn’t help himself than to woo Dan over with them. He hasn’t picked up on the symbolism, yet. 

So Phil was mindlessly tapping his fingers on the counter, listening to the soft patter of rain hitting the windows, and pavement outside. The clock read three twenty three, and Phil was waiting in anticipation for the brunet to burst through the doors with damp hair, his face flushed, and a smile. His day was quite boring, after the morning rush nobody really came in, other than teenagers who skipped school, or unemployed adults that are either homeless, or stay at home parents. Around lunch time, the second rush of the day, he dealt with the busy, rushed business people, until it calmed own again. So here he is. 

A woman was sitting with a stroller next to her, with, who he assumed, to be a friend she was catching up with. They were talking about how one of them was getting ready to adopt a third child, and the other was thinking of getting pregnant again. They couldn’t have been five years older than Phil, and had families, lives, and here Phil was. Plants were his family. 

Not that he didn’t love plants. Fuck, he had vines tattooed up his left arm, as a sleeve. It was the only tattoo he had, the only one he wanted. People thought it was weird that this nerdy guy who owned a hybrid of a coffee shop and florist had a tattoo. But Phil loved destroying stereotypes. 

“Yeah, Cam is starting year six this year, and I don’t know if I’m ready for my baby to be growing up so fast. Its just so weird you know?” Phil listened in, sighing. 

The bell dinged, making Phil’s ears perk up, looking over at the door and seeing the man he had been waiting for. He was closing his umbrella, leaning it against the wall. Dan turned around when he shrugged off his rain coat, smiling when he saw Phil. 

“It costs extra for you to occupy that space for your umbrella, you know.” Phil said, beginning to make Dan’s drink. Dan chuckled, fixing his fringe. 

“Well, I’ll have to file a complaint for umbrella discrimination. My umbrella will leave a zero out of five star rating on yelp for this disgraceful business.” Dan smiled, leaning against the counter, resting on his crossed arms. 

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but your umbrella doesn’t have opposable thumbs. I don’t think it would be able to figure out how to type.” Phil joked, handing Dan the mug of coffee. Dan gave Phil his card, but Phil declined. 

“What?” Dan asked, not grabbing the mug until Phil took his card to pay. 

“It’s on me today.” Phil smiled, he motioned for somebody to cover the till, as he walked around to the front of the counter. Dan smiled, thanking Phil as he took the mug. 

“Would you care to join me as a strategically place stickers on these papers?” Dan asked, swinging his backpack next to the small table that he always sat at. The peonies rested on the table, and Dan picked them both up and set them in the vase that was at the edge. Like he always did. 

“I would love to.” Phil slid into the seat across from Dan, taking off his apron and draping it on the back of his chair. 

“I had the most crazy day today. My kids were all buzzing with excitement because the thunder was so loud.” Dan started, he pulled out his binder full of papers he needed to ‘grade’. He was surprised to see the thick stack of papers, and the small stack of stickers he had. Phil laughed. “But I guess they were like that in all their classes, the other year four teachers had the same problem.”

“So it was a stressful day, then?” 

“No, I bullshitted the entire lesson. It’s not like they were paying attention. These papers are from the warm up I require every day. Year six teachers are getting more strict about that, so I’m trying to prepare them for it next year.” Dan took a sip of his coffee, peeling stickers off the sheet, having one on his five fingers. He placed one down, then moved on to the next assignment, repeat. 

 “How do they know if they did well?” Phil chuckled, grabbing half the stack of papers, and a sticker sheet. He might as well help, it would be kind of rude to just watch Dan work while Phil was literally slacking off at his own job. Good job he was his own boss, he guessed. 

“We grade them in class. But one time I tried telling them to just keep the warm ups in their completed folder, and they got really offended that I wasn’t going to put stickers on them.” 

“Is astronomy the only thing you teach?” 

“No. I have to teach all sorts of science, but I like to focus on astronomy, because well, fuck it. I love it. I’m not so good at everything else, though.”

“Maybe I can help out with botany. Because, everyone knows I don’t know shit about plants.” Phil’s tone was sarcastic, because well, fucking look at him. Of course he knew everything about plants. 

“Oh yeah, because children really care about having the knowledge that cabbage is 91 percent water contents.”

Phil leaned over the table, smacking Dan, making them both laugh. He looked up to Cleo, who was working the till, seeing her devilish smile at him. Cleo knew about Phil’s little, well, obsession, and has been trying to hook them up forever now. Phil didn’t know exactly what she did to Dan, but she put Phil through hell. She wouldn’t let him forget about Dan any second of the day. 

Mistakenly, Dan had told her he was gay before he and Phil were close, and Phil just had a ridiculous teenage crush on him, and that spiraled and entire conversation about why you should totally just go for it Phil he told me to my face he likes dick so go while the window is open.  

And now look, Phil had finally gotten the courage to go sit with Dan, without even thinking about it. Something was different today, but Phil couldn’t quite pin it. 

“Do you do this at home as well?” Phil asked, trying to spark up a conversation. Dan laughed. 

“Oh god no. When I get home it’s literally just lesson planning. This is the most relaxing part of my day, if I’m honest.”

“Wow, guess I’ll have to make your trip here more stressful. You’re not allowed to have fun.” Phil said, and Dan let out a noise like a giggle, making Phil’s heart soar. 

“You’d have to completely change yourself then, because that’s what makes the trip here worth it every day. Even in the pouring rain.” Dan tilted his head toward the window, referring to the current weather. But he said t in such a smug way, smirking at Phil during and after, and Phil was in shock. 

Was he flirting with me?

“That’s easy.” Phil picked up the salt shaker on the table, shook a fair amount into his hand, and successfully dumped it into Dan’s coffee. 

Dan looked up wide eyed, his jaw dropping. “Did you really?”

“I did.” Phil crossed his arms on the table. Dan got up off the chair, and strode over to his umbrella, it already making a tiny puddle of water from the rain running off the fabric. He sprinted back over to the table, and shook the rest of the droplets over Phil’s head. 

Phil gasped, swatting the umbrella away from above his head. The two women had turned and were watching, giggling as Dan shoved the papers into his bag, laughing as he swung it over his shoulders, and started for the door, running. Phil gave an unsure look to Cleo, before she shouted ‘Go!’, and Phil took off after Dan. 

He heard the bell chime when he ran out of the building, and Dan was already halfway across the street, looking back at Phil, the umbrella long forgotten. “Oops?” Dan said, raising his arms as if he didn’t know what he did, breaking into a laugh when Phil finally caught up. They hadn’t been outside for thirty seconds, and they were already drenched, their hair dripping wet. Phil shook his head, bringing his hands up to his hair, and ruffling it, while shaking it in Dan’s face, adding more water than what was coming down. “What you get for putting salt in my coffee!’

“Hey, you deserved that!” Dan started walking backwards, making Phil follow him. He was almost running sideways by the time Phil caught up. “You told me to completely change, because I’m so awful.”

“Don’t put words into my mouth.” Dan remarked. “I told you to change yourself because YOU wanted my experience to be less enjoyable.” 

Dan sped ahead, turning the corner, and going down an ally. The rain wasn’t as intense, the buildings shielding them, Phil had grabbed Dan’s wrist, both laughing. He held both arms in one hand, making Dan squirm as he laughed hysterically, and brought a hand to his neck, maing it seem as if Phil were going to grab his face and kiss him, but at last minute he flicked Dan right under his ear. “Oops?” He mocked Dan’s statement from earlier. 

Dan wiggled his arms free, and started poking Phil on his sides, tickling him. “Oops,” Dan yelled, trying to escape Phil’s arms when he reached out to defend himself. He crossed his own over his chest as Phil had his arms wrapped around his torso, dropping Dan’s bag, pulling his back into his chest. Phil had lifted Dan’s feel off the ground slightly, both still laughing at each other, over nothing. “Phil!”

Phil interlocked their fingers, on both hands, keeping them wrapped around Dan, on a whim. “Whoops, looks like our hands are stuck together. That’s weird?” Phil joked, pinning Dan around. He knew it was cheesy, but they were already acting cheesy, so it only added to the moment.

 “What a shame.” Dan said, smiling with dimples adorning his cheeks. It had been a while since Dan had found somebody he really liked. The last time being in Uni, but that was years ago. He really grew an affection towards Phil, which is why he kept going back to his shop every day, and would occasionally order flowers, or plants to his house, just because he knew Phil picked them out, and arranged them. 

But being a teacher took up most of his life, so he never really had time to date, or do anything to hang out with a person, and Phil was just somebody that he got to know without even knowing he was doing it, and figured out he kept going because he really fucking liked Phil, but didn’t know how to act on it.

 Dan moved his hands around Phil’s neck, tugging lightly on the hair that was at the bottom of Phil’s neck. “Your hair called me, and asked why you didn’t leave it in 2007, and I couldn’t help but wonder the same exact question.” Dan teased, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he giggled with Phil’s sarcastic eye roll. “Oh, sorry, does that offend you?”

“You literally have the exact same haircut, you’re just curlier than me.” Phil laughed. Dan had pulled Phil’s head down more, pressing their foreheads together. They both had no idea how they had gotten to this point so quickly, but were happy that it was finally happening, at least, they hoped. 

“You know,” Dan started, “the kids finally pointed out that I always have peonies in my vase last week.”

“Tell them where you got them, it will get me more business.” Phil said, sounding serious. Dan tried to hold back laughter, kicking his shin. 

“And then one of them, all bold like, said, and I quote, ‘my mummy told me peonies are romantic, does somebody fancy you, Mr.Howell?’ And I couldn’t help but fucking blush because of fucking course Peonies symbolize romance after I had fallen for the guy that kept supplying me with them voluntarily.”

Then it was Phil’s turn to blush, because holy fuck, Dan figured out his secret plan, and it fucking worked. It worked. He could barely believe what he had just heard. It was like every single dream he ever had was finally coming true, and the rain soaking them didn’t even matter anymore, because he was so shocked that this was happening, this boring day had turned so amazing, Phil thought he was dreaming.

 “Ah, you have uncovered my secret plans!” Phil tried to cover up the fact that he was internally freaking out, and seemed to do it pretty well in that case. 

“Secret?” Dan asked, giggling. “Are they secret if I find out before you even tell me?”

“It worked didn’t it?” 

They both laughed, their noses bumping together, making them just that more eager. And suddenly, Dan pushed his head up, and their lips collided, locking together to naturally, and perfectly. 

Neither of them could believe what was happening, yet at the same time they could. Phil ran his hands up and down Dan’s sides, exhaling when they pulled back. 

It wasn’t for long, though, as Phil went straight back down, kissing the breath out of Dan. He bit down on Dan’s bottom lip, and Dan opened his mouth enough for Phil to slip his tongue in, which Dan had dreamed about Phil doing forever now. 

Phil brought his hands to Dan’s cheeks, running the pads of his thumbs on his cheekbones. Dan gasped, Phil’s other fingers lightly brushing against his neck, making Phil smirk. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” Dan said, Phil just pressed their lips back together, showing Dan how much he agreed. 

-

Phil’s keys jingled in his hands as he tried to unlock the door to his flat, Dan kissing his jaw as he hung off Phil’s arm. Both of their minds were racing with adrenaline. 

Turns out that standing in the middle of the rain making out isn’t going to take them any further, so Phil suggested that they go to his flat down the street to ‘dry off’ and ‘change’. Dan knew what he actually meant, and didn’t hesitate to agree to it. But could you blame Dan? He’s been waiting for this for a year and a half, he was not going to pass up the opportunity. obviously. 

Phil pushed the door open, revealing his apartment to Dan, for the first time. He didn’t think that this would be how he showed Dan his life at home for the first time, but hey, no going back now. 

He didn’t think pushing Dan against the wall would be the right approach to start this, as he didn’t know what Dan’s boundaries were, so he settled for just hugging Dan from behind as he looked around the flat, taking in what he could. 

Phil had a plant of some sort of variation on any surface of his house, vases of flowers, regular potted house plants, succulents, etc.. But to top that even more, he had posters of old video games, movies, and cartoons. But they were professionally framed, making Dan giggle at how nerdy Phil exactly was. 

“Suits you.” Dan smiled, leaning into Phil. 

“I know, it’s a lot.” Phil laughed, kissing Dan’s cheek. 

“No, no. Really, it suits you. I like it.” Dan turned around, placing his hands on Phil’s chest. He blinked up at hi, leaning up and pressing a light kiss to Phil’s lips. Phil had dropped Dan’s bag onto the floor next to the door, before wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist. 

“Wouldn’t expect you to go for the nerd who owns a florist cafe.” Phil joked, kissing Dan’s giggle away. Phil slid his tongue into Dan’s mouth, making the kiss more needy, and rough. Dan squeaked, tugging Phil closer by his shirt, tilting his head. 

Phil’s hands cupped Dan’s face, running the pads of his thumbs across his cheekbones. His skin was smooth, and up close, Phil could see the small freckles that littered Dan’s face, which made him even more adorable than he could imagine. He was completely head over heels for Dan, and the fact that he had finally reached this stage with him was exhilarating. “Wouldn’t have expected you to go for the primary school teacher.” Dan said between kissing. 

Dan’s fingers found their way to the top button of Phil’s shirt, slowly looping it through the hole, successfully undoing it. 

This was what Phil had wanted, he wanted somebody that he was completely head over heels for, somebody that felt the same for him that he felt, and this was when he finally realized that he got what he was looking for. 

Maybe opening that coffee shop wasn’t his only dream, because after today, it won’t be his top priority anymore. 

“You don’t even know what I’m feeling for you right now.” Phil pulled away. Dan blushed. 

“Trust me, I do.”

-

Oh my god im sorry this is literal shit but i tried my hardest

Send me requests!!! but please specify if you want smut or not bc i dont know what you want if you dont!!!! ty

[folatefangirl]

Thoughts on the Six of Crows-verse after finishing the duology:

(SPOILERS for Six of Crows, Crooked Kingdom, and a teensy thing from Wonder Woman if you haven’t seen the movie already)

- I'd like to thank Bardugo for giving me more gray hairs than I had two weeks ago. These chaotic kids stressed me out so much. - Bardugo wrote both great characterization and wonderfully twisty and puzzle-filled plots where she seemed to purposefully write herself into a corner and then wrote herself out of it again and again and again. As a writer who frequently traps herself in plotting corners, I would kill to see all her notes and drafts as she figured things out. - In retrospect, I can understand why the beginning of Six of Crows would be a major source of anxiety for anyone familiar with the Grishaverse. Jurda parem is scary shit. - The inclusion of chemistry made me very happy, though it did stray into the "deu ex machina" territory a few times and made this chemistry nerd give it the side-eye. (Because how do you do organic chemistry with such great yields and consistent effects with limited materials and instruments? Wylan must be a wunderkind or something because I studied for a year in an orgo lab and my percent yields were shit. I learned about TNT, but the most dangerous things I handled were small amounts of organometallics and hydrogen gas, so maybe in Kerch they're more cavelier about what students use?) - So would a modern version of Ketterdam also have a signficant cannabis market, given that jurda is already sold? Just asking for a friend. (I've thought much too long about how the Dregs would behave on sativa. My pharma/drug curiousity is leaking.) - The Kerch's constant obsession with work and money and markets made me laugh because they are so utterly ridiculous and also wince because I know people who behave just like them. - Matthias is the Icelandic Jon Snow to Nina's Ravka Ygritte and no one can convince me otherwise. - When Helnik actually moved on from significant glances and flashbacks to actual smooching I said out loud, "Fucking finally!" Because as much as I love them, their UST was driving me up the wall. "Lovestruck teenagers" indeed. - The little bits of physical affection Nina and Inej gave each other made me so happy. - Kaz is such an Extra Romantic™. He just can't help himself. - I was actually shocked by the Djel tree scene. I knew it would play some role in the story, but I didn't think they'd actually dare. Then again, Kaz is a faithless Chaotic Neutral so he probably didn't give two shits about some ice god cursing him for the rest of his days. - THE TANK. THE TANK. Man, if I thought the tank scenes in Wonder Woman had me wooed, then this scene had me over the moon. I was so gleeful when they trained the big gun on everything. - Bless Bardugo for not avoiding the effects of withdrawal and addiction. - The Crimson Cutlass scene was so brilliant and well-paced that I just want to read it again and again. Also: Romantic geranium flower petal shower. - I kinda ship Bajan and Alys. Just a little bit. - Llewllyn. Llewllyn. I love it. - Everything about Colm is so wholesome and lovely and he's such a great father. - Sure, everyone else might have found the necromancy subplot creepy, but I adored every word of it. The net rescue was my favorite part, followed by the fake plague.  - The Wesper development was so cute. And that they were willing to communicate and resolve their problems and everything? Be still, my heart. Since when does a YA novel avoid the stupid "let's have a misunderstanding that lasts three books" trope? - Kuwei, suprisingly capable of being a little shit. (Then again, if I was 15, had a massive crush on someone to the point of drawing doodles of them in my notebooks complete with little hearts and everything, and was also certain that I would die in the next few days, then I can see the amygdala-fueled logic in making a move involving a bit of trickery.) - The Council of Tides finally appeared after being a small bit of worldbuilding mentioned in the first book and I have to appreciate Bardugo's efforts to make every bit of her worldbuilding useful, including the return of the plague. - Specht and Rotty deserve huge raises and a nice vacation somewhere that's warm, sunny, and assassin-free. They're such underappreciated MVPs. - The stuffed crow made me grin because apparently I have 0 issues with my favorite characters threatening someone with "I know where your children sleep." - The bandages and handholding made me so proud of Kanej. Look at how much progress these bloodthirsty kids have made! - Kaz mentioned my favorite bit of crow trivia and I’m so happy everyone else who finished this series got to hear about it, too. - The ending was very bittersweet, but at the same time, it was like some part of Matthias's story had come full circle. Plus, I didn't expect an ending to a duology filled with chaotic capers to wrap up without a loss or two, romantic arcs be damned. (GRRM would have killed off 50% and then some.)

Would I recommend this series to someone else? 100% YES. This was so much fun to read and I can’t wait to read it all over again.