#also blanket permission for anyone to use these if they give you Ideas
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phoenixcatch7 · 2 years ago
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Cap marvel headcanons I Will integrate into a fic one day but also have Zero basis in canon to my knowledge (this ended up being LONG):
The living lightning is an ancient force akin to the speed force, and the 'true' guardian of magic, being possibly the first 'magical creature' ever created.
The rock of eternity only recently became based on earth, in the past several thousand years, with the planet's deities acting as mountains in the rain cycle - funnels to safely channel the magic back into the Champion. It's a fully symbiotic relationship that benefits the planet and its people immensely.
This means previously the rock has been based on alien planets. Previous champions are ancient aliens, many from species that no longer exist, either because the species died out or evolved into something unrecognisable.
The champion of magic may have inspired the oua (?), the creators and high council of the green lanterns. Ooh maybe an oua was selected as champion, which is how they learned of it!
The living lightning, when not in a mortal vessel, rests in the heart of the Rock in a large brazier, with a smoke lid of white edged with gold in a familiar pattern. It is tradition, or perhaps instinct, for a Champion to light the brazier whenever they visit the Rock. It will be lit for as long as the visit lasts, and be extinguished the next time they come.
Should it choose to take form, the living lightning resembles a washed out combination of each of its previous Champions. Its form is solid and clear, strong and made for battle, but distinctly uncanny. It doesn't leave its brazier, nor speak.
The 'ideal form' of a hero varies all the time, doesn't it? Especially if you're a kid still growing and learning about yourself and the world. Headcanon cap ever so subtly changes features sometimes. Gradually. Height and build changes sometimes. One of the league members has noticed but they really can't prove it to themselves and it's driving them crazy. Billy has no idea.
On that topic, the 'ideal form' also includes the clothes, right? The red costume? If Billy transforms with the intent of doing something outside his normal hero things (ie, attending a celebration), the outfit has every reason and ability to change to reflect that! Everyone expecting cap to show up in his normal gear and ready to throw a formal suit at him to wiggle on over his costume and he shows up in a red and gold set with a little one shoulder cape like 'yeah I have no idea either'.
Cap marvel Is An Adult. Billy isn't, but cap is in every single way that someone could count. This is probably canon but in some fics I think the jl forgets lol. It's still the same soul, just, with an adult filter instead of a kid one. However that filter manifests.
Not sure this is canon too, but the idea of the mind/soul/whatever of cap manifesting as this great impossible mass. A storm, or a tiger, or a barrier of lightning. This giant, untouchable, dormant mass of power and implied Danger™. Again, Billy has no idea. J'onn is eying warily from a very safe distance.
His wiki practically waxes poetic about his abilities and skills in strategy, mathematics, nigh precognition from ability to spot and manipulate patterns. Captain marvel is unbeatable at chess. Batman has lost to him. Billy cannot do fractions and it drives him up the WALL.
The champion, and ONLY the champion, can share his powers. If shazam wants a second champion he has to give a new set wholesale or convince the champion to share. Similarly, those patroned by the champion cannot transform unless the champion is also transformed. Because otherwise that would be too easy for Billy lol.
Every time Billy asks, tawky gives a different canon origin story. Billy has no idea which is true.
Billy's parents died accidentally freeing Adam on their expedition. Probably crushed by rubble :(. The wizard is the only one who knows and really isn't inclined to share, and Adam either hasn't connected the dots or never really noticed they were there.
Cap and Billy love each other, regardless of whatever version their whole thing is. They're the only reason the other remembers self care and that kind of self love, even if he's not sure he deserves it, makes a world of difference with how they portray themselves to the world.
Cap doesn't need to breathe to speak but he never remembers that and has repeatedly choked in water and space. Superman empathises but tries not to find it funny after the third time it happens.
Billy has showed the wizard memes.
The wizard internally refers to Billy as the 'sassy, lost child'. He has a pointy hat like any good wizard but refuses to wear one since Billy keeps asking him to, pretty please.
Cap once won an arm wrestle with superman by pretending to lick his hand. He didn't. Billy would have.
Cap marvel CANONICALLY bites but after the first time he regulates his jaw strength. Thankfully it was Black Adam so no one lost a hand. He had him in a headlock so who's fault was it really.
Ebenezer doesn't have a strong opinion on cap marvel either way. Billy thinks that's almost worse.
The living lightning isn't lightning. It was around before lightning. It is living, however. It is that 'living' that forms the main consciousness of the Champion form, in this case Marvel. Its not sentient or sapient itself, that's the vessel, but it is the building blocks of it.
In dc (again no idea if this has any basis in canon) magic is the fifth state of matter, above plasma. Yes this interferes incredibly with quantum physics and theoretical science. No the magic users don't know how it works either. No they will not help you they have their own research (into the exact same thing) to do.
If the Rock is obliterated cap marvel will die (along with pretty much everything else but irrelevant). However, if he manages to save the brazier, he will continue on. Magic as a whole deal won't be very happy and aeons of magical knowledge and history and artifacts will be lost, but cap will live and can rebuild from the ashes. The brazier is Heavy but enough super strength can move it if you don't mind bringing a chunk of floor. And the rock is so weakened it's literally falling apart but those are the right circumstances anyway so.
#We should be able to put multiple read mores in posts#I had more headcanons than I thought#If anyone has anything proving/disproving any of these PLEASE let me know :D#I'm still pretty new here and I don't know a lot of the canon material#Wish we could get post checks from others without having to @ them I'm not RUDE#but fr if anyone wants to whip out their reading glasses and comically large Well Actually book of references please do#dc comics#captain marvel#dc captain marvel#billy batson#shazam#headcanon#long post#I REPEAT LONG POST#also blanket permission for anyone to use these if they give you Ideas#I really want to write a fic where the jl (mainly superbat) help cap with saving the Rock and fail#But at the last second he swaps to desperately trying to rescue the brazier but his powers failing and he can't move it he's in tears#And superman has to haul it out while someone else carries an inconsolable cap#And when they get outside to safety they're like 'so what's the deal with this over literally everything else in there' and poor Billy just#Has had possibly the worst day of his life his powers fading just tries to scrabble into the brazier (he needs help and its uncomfortable#for everyone involved) and curls up like goodNIGHT and pulls his cape over his shoulders which turns to stone and he dissolves#To sleep and recharge and now the jl is stuck with the source of all magic which is big and heavy and has their unconscious teammate in.#And also it can't leave earth so no watchtower to put it! Very angst hurt comfort identity reveal methinks. HEA ofc#So.... Yeah
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[Image description: The title, "Fanworks Permission Statement Builder," and black line-drawing-style pictures of a hand holding a pencil and of a microphone with a pop filter, over a background of crumpled paper. End ID.] (credit to @rystonlentil for the image ID)
Hey fanworks creators!
Excited about the idea of someone creating something based on your fan creation (like podfics, fanart, translations, etc)? On the other hand, do you not want people creating stuff based off your fanworks and don't want to have to turn them down? Or do you have a more nuanced idea of what you are and aren't comfortable with people doing based on your fan creations? Don't particularly care one way or the other about what people create based on your stuff?
SPEND JUST A FEW MINUTES TO QUICKLY GENERATE A FANWORKS PERMISSION STATEMENT LETTING PEOPLE KNOW YOUR PREFERENCES!!!
What is a fanworks permission statement?
A fanworks permission statement (also known as a blanket permission statement or transformative works permission statement) is very simple: it's something you post in a publically-visible place (usually your AO3 profile) that tells other fan creators what you are and aren't okay with in terms of other people making fanworks based off your stuff. It can be as simple as a sentence or two, or as complicated as you want to communicate your preferences clearly.
Who should have a permission statement?
A permission statement is for anyone that creates fanworks! Yes, even if you don't think anyone would ever want to create something based off your fanworks. You never know! It's not egotistical to post a permission statement, it's HELPFUL. Yes, even if you don't want people making something based off your works. It means no one has to reach out to ask you, they can know your preferences right away.
Is it only for fanfic writers?
Absolutely not! It's great for fan creators of ALL kinds to have a fanworks permission statement! Fanartists, someone might want to use your fanart as inspiration for a fanfic or create fanart inspired by your work in a different medium! Podficcers, other people creating in an audible medium might want to insert clips of your podfics into their work, or copy the way you did certain effects! Fanbinders, you might inspire an artist with the way you do your binding! This is really for everyone, because fandom is infinitely creative and who knows how another fan creator might be inspired by your work!
What do I even say in a permission statement?
That's exactly why we built the Fanworks Permission Statement Builder! So you don't have to think about what to say or how to say it. Just spend a few minutes answering questions about your preferences that cover many of the common things people might want to specify, and you'll have a permission statement ready to copy-and-paste into your AO3 profile, or to edit to your heart's content!
Why use the Fanworks Permission Statement Builder?
Don't want to come up with a permission statement on your own? Not sure what should even go into a permission statement? Want someone to at least give you a starting place that you can edit to better reflect your preferences? Want someone to just hand you a ready-to-use permission statement that you can paste into your profile? Spend just a few minutes answering some questions about your preferences, and you'll have a permission statement ready to use or edit!
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semisgroupie · 2 years ago
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wake up, darling
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bachira meguru x fem. reader
wc: 1.7k
warnings: somno (reader wakes up), sleepy sex, all characters are written 21+, fingering (f!receiving), male masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, finger sucking, clothes ripping, biting, needy bachi, reader is called “darling”, mentions of: oral sex (m and f!receiving)
synopsis: since your boyfriend can’t sleep, he might as well just toy with you until you wake up
a/n: HI BLUE LOCK NATION!!!! i write for blue lock now!!!! also i’ve had this idea in my lil horny brain and finally spit it out into somewhat coherent words!!
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The thing that Bachira loved most about you was how much you loved to sleep.
Being someone that fell asleep at the most random and untimely moments, he needed to be with someone who understood him and wouldn’t get mad at him. Luckily for him, you were his perfect match.
But being that you two loved sleeping so much, you two had to establish other things for the relationship. The main thing was, what would happen if someone wanted to be intimate while the other was asleep? It was a normal question to ask and sex played an important role in your relationship.
So after a lot of discussion and figuring things out, you both settled on giving each other permission to get intimate whenever one of you was awake and the other was asleep. Once it was agreed upon it became a regular part of your daily routines.
There were many mornings, afternoons, and nights when you woke up to see his big, bright eyes staring up at you while he lapped at your cunt, his hips grinding and rutting against the mattress while he fucked you with his tongue. There were also many times where Bachira woke up from a midday nap to you bouncing on his cock, moaning wantonly while he kept his half lidded eyes on you. It was the perfect taboo. Anyone would be concerned that you two were basically free to use each other but it made your bond as lovers grow even stronger.
There were even times where it was turned into a little game. How much could you two get away with before the other woke up? Bachira was a heavy sleeper so you were able to get away with a lot, there were so many times where you could start with a handjob then move to a blowjob then move to riding him before he woke up. His moans and groans while he was asleep would just spur you on even more.
Bachira would sometimes get too excited for his own good, loudly moaning against your skin while he lapped and sucked on your nipples. Slurping lewdly against your pussy whenever he went down on you. Getting a little too rough whenever he put his cock inside you. He just couldn’t help himself with you, just so perfect when you slept.
Today was one of those mornings where you tended to sleep in while he was wide awake. A phone call from Isagi was what disrupted him from his peaceful slumber and no matter what he did to try to fall back asleep, he just couldn’t do so.
He adjusted the blanket a bit so he could fully take in your figure. You were sleeping in one of his shirts and it rode perfectly up your silky legs, just giving him a perfect peek of the curve of your ass. He moved his hand over slightly to pull the hem of the shirt up more, “no panties, perfect.” He wasn’t surprised to see you weren’t wearing panties, hell, he even insisted that you shouldn’t ever wear panties to bed. It would only be more of a hassle for him whenever he wanted to ravage you. There were many times in the beginning of this agreement where he ripped your panties off you and had to promise to take you on a shopping spree so he could replace them.
He traced your ass with his fingers, gently going over the smooth skin before dipping down to drag his fingers along your slit. You were wet like always, “must be having a good dream, darling, let me make it even better.” He really wanted to dive down and lap at your pussy, it was like his morning coffee. He could stay between your legs for hours and just drink you up with no complaints.
He moved his fingers away from your slit to bring them to his mouth and suck on them, to get them wet and to get a small taste of you. He released them from his mouth and turned to his side to face your back to make it easier for what he planned to do next. Once he was comfortable enough he brought his fingers back to your tempting slit, lightly spreading your lower lips so he could circle your clit with his digits then move down to your drooling hole.
“Ah, so wet for me darling. But so empty, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re full.” He slipped two of his slender digits inside you, pumping them slowly. His other hand moved down to his hardening cock, palming it over his pajamas before slipping it under the waistband to stroke it to full hardness. He pumped his fingers at a slow but steady pace, normally at this point he would have just moved his fingers quicker but he wanted to wait. He wanted this morning to be different so he wouldn’t wake you up so soon.
“Gonna make sure you wake up when I’m inside you, wanna wake you up with cock.” He groaned softly as his fingers grazed over the sensitive head of his cock and he curled his fingers to press the tips of them against your g spot, earning a sleepy whimper from you. “That’s it, even making the prettiest sounds when you’re asleep, lucky me.” He loves making you whine, whimper and moan, just any sound he could get out of you instantly became music to his ears. He continued pumping his fingers and stroking his cock at the same pace until it became too much for him to restrain himself.
He slowly pulled his fingers out of you and slowly sat up to make sure he wouldn’t wake you. He slipped the fingers that were just inside you into his mouth then adjusted his position so he could kneel behind you. He sucked on his fingers, moaning happily while he pulled his cock out and lined it with your entrance with the other. He adjusted his position once more and slowly pushed his cock inside you, thankfully he still had his fingers in his mouth or the wanton moan that threatened to escape his throat would’ve probably woken you up.
He pushed his hips more inch by inch and rolled his head back once he bottomed out completely. He pulled his fingers from his mouth and held you gingerly with both hands. “So perfect, so reactive for me.” He rolled his hips against yours for a few moments before he started thrusting. The pace was slow, still he could watch how your tits bounced underneath the fabric of the shirt, his shirt you wore. It was like he was in a trance as he watched your body move and slowly react to him but it wasn’t enough.
It was never enough when you were asleep, he couldn’t hear your sounds to the fullest extent, he couldn’t see your pretty eyes staring into his, he couldn’t see your soft lips part, he couldn’t feel your hands grip at him while he rutted into you. “Fuck this.” He quickly moved his hands to your chest and pulled at the fabric of his shirt until it tore, revealing your chest to him. He leaned down so he could latch onto one of your pebbling buds and sucked harshly while his hips moved at a brutal pace. “Wakey wakey darling! Time to get up now.” He groaned against your nipple and teased the pert bud between his teeth, he knew exactly what would get you to wake up and he was doing it all.
Your eyebrows knit together before you slowly open them, looking down to see a blurry set of golden eyes. You blink a few times to try to process the scene in front of you but with a quick brush of his cock against your g spot gave you everything you needed to know. “B-baby, ‘s early.” Your voice was raspy as you whined but it just turned your boyfriend on even more. He reluctantly pulled off of your nipple with a wet pop as he kept thrusting into you. “No it’s not, you were just sleeping for so long and I couldn’t help myself.”
He moved one hand to grip the back of your head and pulled you in for a desperate and messy kiss. “Just wanted to make you feel good, that’s what my darling girl deserves.” He muttered against your lips as he angled his hips so his cock could hit your g spot repeatedly. You rolled your head back in his grip, giving him perfect access to litter your neck in kisses and bites. Moans and whines of his name tumbled beautifully from your lips and your hands fisted the sheets underneath you.
“Baby, baby I’m gonna cum.” Your words just meant that he had to speed up his movements, he groaned and moaned against your skin as his hips slapped against yours. He didn’t need to speak to you, you knew what he wanted and he was going to get it. After a few harsh thrusts you arched your back and cried out his name as you orgasmed. You pussy clenched his cock tightly in a vice grip and your orgasm instantly triggered his. He kept his hips pressed against yours as his cum coated your walls white.
He held you close as he rolled his hips against yours so he could get all his cum out then lifted his head to look at you, a bright smile on his face. “I was able to finger you before waking you up.” The statement made you laugh and you lifted your hand to caress his cheek. “That’s great baby, that’s a big improvement. I’m proud of you.” He slowly pulled out of you and slumped down on the bed next to you.
“Now I wanna sleep.” You rolled over so you could rest your head on his chest and nodded. “Get some rest, I’ll rest with you too.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and wrapped an arm around you. “I love you so much, darling.” His tone was laced with drowsiness, it would surprise you how fast he changed from eager puppy to sleepy but you were very used to it. “I love you more, baby.”
Maybe you would get the chance to wake up before him and return the favor.
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lifesizehysteria · 6 months ago
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Counting Freckles | A Violet Bridgerton Fic
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Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: M Pairing: Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader Summary: No plot, just freckles and sex. An ode to Violet Bridgerton's freckles. Notes: First attempt at this POV. We can all thank @cptn-nash and @sleepyfireball for convincing me to give it a try. Also another thank you to @shmaptainwrites for permission to steal her formatting style because I fell in love with her visuals. 💜 AO3
When Violet Bridgerton took up residence in the estate next to yours, her two youngest children in tow, you had no idea what to expect, but you had been hopeful, at least, for a friendly neighbor with whom you shared some commonalities. It wasn’t often one came across another young dowager widow, after all. She was reserved but friendly, waving whenever she passed by, and her children were well-mannered, if rather lively. You had no idea that a chance meeting out in the garden on a particularly sunny spring day, when you invited her in for some lemonade, would forever change the course of your life, and your heart. 
What began as an easy friendship quickly turned into a passionate affair that took you both by surprise, but your mutual attraction was undeniable and refused to be ignored. At first you were quite discreet. Careful to never be caught, always locking doors, never spending the night, stifling moans with hands and pillows and mouths so as not to be overheard. Eventually, though, once Violet’s youngest children flew the nest and you found yourselves alone aside from the servants, both of your patience for playing pretend wore thin. Your houses were modest, minimally staffed, and rarely frequented by any of your adult children. There was little risk by then, and what risk remained was worth the comfort of waking up every morning with the one you loved. Who was really paying attention to a couple of old widows, anyway?
You woke to the misty blue light of a cloudy early morning, and the sound of rain pattering against the window. Turning onto your side, you could see Violet asleep on her stomach, her long hair sprawled, wild across her pillow and over her neck. Its rich brown was streaked with silver like veins of sparkling moonlight. She would have hated you for thinking it, but you would swear there was more gray in it every day, which you did not mind because it just added to her beauty. Smiling, you brushed it away from her back, twisting a lock between your fingers as you did so, revealing the freckles smattering the skin across her shoulders. You had them memorized by now, the way they were sprinkled down her back, over her chest and arms and face, like stars scattered across the night sky. You would never understand how anyone thought them an imperfection.
Her breathing was still deep and steady, so you ran your finger featherlight along a trail of them next to her spine. When you reached the neckline of her nightdress, unable to follow them down below, you dragged your finger back up, connecting freckles like constellations. She began to stir, her shoulder twitching as your fingernail traced along its top. Sleep continued to hold her, so you began to follow your finger with your lips, placing slow, delicate kisses along as much bare skin as you could find.
The warmth of your breath washed over Violet until it made her shiver. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, but her body was rousing quickly, each kiss from your lips drawing more tension into her muscles. A sleepy moan rumbled in her throat while she aimlessly sought out something, any part of you to touch. After several unsuccessful pats that landed on the blanket bundled between you, she found your waist. Gripping it, she used your body to help roll onto her back so you hovered over her, taking away all of those delicious freckles as she did so.
Her face was relaxed, her blue eyes half closed as she gazed up at you through her lashes. The flush in her cheeks matched the pink of her pouting lips, the sight of her irresistible. You brought your hand to her face, sweeping hair away from her forehead to reveal more freckles there. You traced your fingertips down her temple toward her cheek, and she turned her face into your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. You bit your lower lip as you smiled down at her, marveling at how, after so many mornings together, she could still take your breath away. 
Violet inhaled deeply, arching her back to stretch the sleep from her spine, drawing your eye to the white cotton of her nightdress pulling tight across her chest. A current of arousal spread its way through your body and you had to swallow the pool that had formed in your mouth. 
“You are awake early, my love,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. 
You nodded your head, unable to clear the fogginess that had begun to settle. “I think it was the rain that woke me.”
Her eyebrows lifted, her face perking up. “Is it raining?” she asked, tilting her head to listen. Once it registered, she closed her eyes for a moment to take in the sound. “Do you not just love the sound of rain?” The serene smile that pulled across her mouth was too much for you to resist any longer. 
“Among other things…” you muttered with a devilish smirk before dipping your head to kiss her.
She gasped against your mouth, her grip on your waist tightening. After her surprise waned, her lips fell into your rhythm—slow, almost leisurely. This was not a morning for frenzied passion, but for tender lovemaking. You had awoken beside an angel and you intended to take her to heaven. 
A hazy desire built around you, swirling in both your bellies, your hearts beating gently like the rain against glass. You traipsed your fingers down her neck and around to cradle her head. Burying them in her hair, you encouraged her head to tip back, exposing her neck so you could drag your lips down its length. You dipped your tongue into the hollow at the base, the wet heat making Violet’s breath hitch as she pulled you closer.
You nipped at her collarbone before devouring your way down her chest, delighted to have found more of your favorite freckles. Violet let out a lilting laugh when you grunted upon reaching the fabric of her nightdress, only to start tugging at it unsuccessfully with your free hand. 
“Let me,” she said, maneuvering herself so she could help. Mischief shone in her eyes as she locked your gaze in hers, enjoying the frustration on your face as she slipped the sleeves off of her shoulders, then slowly slid her arms out through the wide neckline. 
You did not realize your mouth hung open, staring while she pushed both the dress and blanket down below her breasts to her navel, until her warm fingers brushed along your jawline. “You stare as though you have not seen them hundreds of times before,” she laughed again. 
“I stare because they are perfect. The eighth wonder of the world.”
“You mock me,” she playfully accused, running her thumb along the edge of your lower lip. Of course, she knew better, but how she loved when you worshiped her. 
“I have never meant anything more,” you promised in a throaty whisper. You pulled the tip of her thumb into your mouth, sucking gently. At the same time, your free hand slid up and over her belly and ribs to cup one of her breasts. The weight of it was blissfully familiar, the freckle-dusted flesh spilling over your hand slightly while her nipple tightened against your palm. You took it between your fingers, rolling and pinching until her eyebrows drew together, her lip clenched between her teeth. The two sensations at the same time threatened to overcome her. Desire seared through her body, making her whimper when the muscles between her legs tightened against the ever persistent pulse beating there. 
With a kiss, you released her thumb, which left a cool wet trail along your chin and neck as she dragged her fingers down to the base of your throat, fingernails lightly scraping your skin. Kissing her lips once more, you then marked a path with kisses, growing more open-mouthed, down her neck, over the freckles on her chest, and down the pillowy, stretch-lined flesh of her other breast. You let your breath rush over her nipple before taking it into your mouth, sucking and nipping, rolling your tongue over it in unison with your fingers on the other. Her hand pushed around to the back of your neck, her fingers plunging into your loosely braided hair and urging you closer.
It wasn’t long before Violet began to squirm. She pressed one hand against the headboard, arching her back and driving her hips down into the mattress. You knew her and her body fluently, and while you could have stayed right there forever, you recognized the quiet desperation for more. With one more tender kiss, you sat up on your knees, slipping her nightdress down the rest of her body, slowly revealing her deliciously soft belly. Your hands skimmed down her sides and over the flare of her hips, the fabric bunching around them until she lifted them away from the mattress. You shimmied the garment further down, grazing the sensitive skin of her thighs as you tugged it off. For a moment, you sat admiring her. It didn’t matter how many times you saw her body in the flesh, nor the number of ways time had managed to carve itself into new details. Every time, you found yourself in awe. Your fingers brushed along her stomach. There were freckles here, too. Dark against the palest parts of her, they were larger and spread apart, but just as beautiful. You touched them as you went—beneath her breast, near her navel, atop her hip. You bit your lip as you admired them.  
“If you are going to continue to stare, you could at least afford me the same view.” She tugged at your nightdress. “Remove this. I want to see you.”
The command sent a shiver down your spine. 
“Yes, my love.” You did as you were told, gathering the skirt in your hands and pulling it off over your head, tossing it to the floor beside hers. “Better?” you asked, sitting back, allowing her the view she so desired. Her eyes swept over your body, the intensity of the lust in her eyes making your breath catch.
“Perfect.” Pushing herself up onto her elbow, she slid her hand up the length of your arm and to your neck. She urged you closer, kissing you deeply, pouring her love directly into you. 
Her hand wandered, finding all the most sensitive spots she knew would drive you mad. She ghosted a finger along the edge of your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Her fingernails grazed over your pulse point, then continued down over your chest. She brushed her thumb over your nipple, teasing it as it hardened until you moaned into her mouth. The sound made her laugh against your lips; how easily she could turn you into a whimpering puddle. Satisfied, her hand continued down and around to the small of your back, pressing your hips down as she laid back, pulling you along with her, your kiss unbroken. 
You drank in every taste of her, every breath, because there would never be enough to fill your desire for her. She delighted in the familiar weight of your body, and the warmth of your skin against hers as she got lost in your embrace. She was gasping between kisses, little whimpers catching in her throat at every touch. You reached down to the outside of her thigh, your fingers pressing firmly into her petal-soft skin as you bent her knee so it was up against your hip. When Violet felt you against the apex of her legs, a wave of pulsing heat burned through her body. She thrusted her hips forward, trying to make more contact, but it wasn’t enough.
“Touch me,” she panted, your lips just a breath apart. 
Desire pooled in the pit of your stomach. There was nothing else you wanted to do more. You shifted so that you were draped over only half of her, hooking your leg over hers and drawing it towards you so she was open for you. She watched, her eyes darkening as you slid two of your fingers into your mouth, thoroughly wetting them in order to assist with the inconsistency she had experienced in the year since her courses had stopped. When you pressed them down into her folds and found her already slicker than usual, a wicked grin curled your lips. 
“Oh my,” you muttered against her ear, making her skin tingle. “Someone is certainly ready this morning.”
Your name slipped from her lips, her voice shaking, “Please.”
“Is there enough?” you asked. 
“Yes.” She blinked quickly, then added, “I think so.” 
“Do you want it?”
“Yes.” She was breathless with want. 
You kissed her parted lips, then whispered against them, “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
She was nodding when you pulled back so you could see her face. You entered her gently, as you always did now, watching for any sign of discomfort. There was no resistance, and Violet let out a shuddering sigh, eyes closing as her head pushed back into the pillow. 
You worked her slowly, paying careful attention to everything—her face, the sounds she made, the ease with which your fingers moved inside her—diligent in ensuring every moment was one of pleasure. When you thought perhaps there was more friction than there should have been, you removed your fingers, causing Violet to whine in displeasure.
“It is only for a moment, sweetheart,” you assured her. She watched with bated breath as you took your fingers back into your mouth. The taste of her musky sweetness caused a tightening in your own core and your mouth to water, which aided in your effort. A quiet moan escaped as she watched you lick your lips. A louder moan followed when you pressed your fingers into her again. Her eyes rolled closed as you returned to your former pace, confident now that you would not hurt her. She clung to you, her fingers gripping your shoulders and your back, nails digging into your scalp, anywhere she could hold because you were the only thing anchoring her to Earth.
Sensing she was close but not quite able to make it over that edge, you pressed the heel of your hand against her most sensitive spot, eliciting a primal sound from deep in her chest while she rocked down to get more pressure. As her hips moved against your hand, you followed her pace, watching the tension build in her body until she could no longer hold on, finally crashing over the crest, straight into heaven.
You let her come down slowly, remaining inside her while her inner muscles grew still and her body relaxed into the mattress. The freckles on her chest and face now laid on a bed of pink and you couldn’t help but kiss a few of them. Violet’s eyes fluttered open and she placed her hand beneath your chin, drawing your face up to hers and kissing you with a satiated hum. 
“Come here,” she urged, touching your leg that was still wrapped around hers. You withdrew from inside her, taking her offered hand so you could reposition yourself over her, straddling her hips. You fingers laced with hers while you leaned on your other arm, hovering over her face. Violet captured your lips again, at the same time as her hand burned its way down the length of your body. She knew you well enough to know you would be so primed that delaying any longer would be torturous. But while you had taken her to heaven, she had decided to dance with the devil because instead of touching you where you so desperately needed, she grazed the backs of her fingernails from your navel to the edge of your curls. She continued, reaching between your bodies to take hold of the supple flesh of your inner thigh. It was one of her most favorite spots. She raked her fingers up, closer and closer while your muscles twitched beneath her fingers, and you sucked in a sharp breath between your teeth. 
“Violet,” you growled, dropping your head down to her shoulder when she cradled her hand against you, just close enough for you to sense it there, but not enough to feel it. 
“Oh, very well,” she chuckled, as if she were not holding your very sanity in her hand. She pressed her hand to your soaking curls, making you arch harder against her. Pulling three fingers through your dripping heat, she drew it up with her fingertips as they found the place that you ached for her to touch most. She moved her fingers in slow circles, each pass making your body jolt, forcing a shuddering sigh from your throat that spilled onto her shoulder over and over. 
She kissed the top of your shoulder, her lips and tongue mapping their way to your neck. Your body began to shake, your grip on her hand tightening. She quickened the pace of her circling, adding pressure until your body curled around her, caught in a vise of pleasure that radiated out to every nerve in your body. 
You collapsed down onto her, your breathing labored, your mind blank. She dislodged her arm from between you and wrapped it around your back, bringing your clasped hands to her lips to press kisses along the tops of your entwined fingers. 
Both of you were already spent and the sun had not even finished rising, so instead of facing the day and preparing yourselves for breakfast, you burrowed back underneath the blankets. Wrapped in each other's arms, you spent the morning counting freckles and tracing smile lines, laughing and dozing, surrounded by love and the gentle sound of rain. 
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aithusarosekiller · 6 months ago
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HGIHIHIII U SEEM NICE AND ALSO COOL SO HIII :D
DO U HAVE ANY JEGULILY HCS?? I SAW U LIKED THEM IN ANOTHRR POST!!
HI HI HI HI I AM LITERALLY SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY I KEPT HAVING IDEAS THEN GETTING DISTRACTED AND AAAAAAAAA I AM HERE NOW!!!
Yes I absolutely doooooo, they are my babies and I will gladly share everything I think about them don't you even worry!
ALSO before anyone wastes time whining that jily is tagged here, there are literally jily hcs in the post and I always tag correctly so if it bothers you so much, go to settings and filter out the jegulily tag and then it's gone x
OKAY
- I love the idea that Regulus used family heirlooms in order to make promise rings for both of them because his ancestors would absolutely hate it and sometimes he feels like he has to prove that part of his past wrong and keep pushing back to remind himself that who he was brainwashed to be is NOT who he is. It it actually Lily who suggests reusing heirlooms to give them a new meaning as an idea and he decides to do it and use them as a way to promise to spend his life with them. He's a romantic, what can I say! (in fact, in the longfic I'm planning, Lily having the black signet ring is a recurring feature with quite a lot of weight!) despite Regulus being the one with the promise rings, it is Lily who proposes (it is ALWAYS Lily no matter who I ship her with) and then because they're all for equality in their relationship it's James who announces the wedding and asks Lily's parents and Sirius/Narcissa for permission to marry them. I just love married jegulily idk
- Regulily watch the most disturbing shows together in the middle of the night to the point where James has to go to bed early to miss them or he can't sleep. Eventually they convince him to stay downstairs and just listen to music in his earphones while laying across their laps but he refuses to watch the screen. During the day he's the biggest, toughest guy imaginable. Nothing can phase him at all. But after midnight? ABSOLUTELY NOT. He almost turns into a completely different person. It is not helped by the folk tales Fleamont told him as a kid to mess with him, not realising just how much they would stick with him in years to come.
- James cooks dinner, Lily makes dessert, Regulus cleans. You just know Lily makes the best apple pie with the lattice top and everything 🙏 James can do pretty much anything well, and Regulus is decent at both but doesn't really enjoy it so he does all the washing up because he likes the way it gives him time to stare into the water and think
- not much to this one but I love them being T4T4T SOOOOO much! They're the transest trio ever. They just are sorry, I know because I am trans so I'm allowed to spread it around wherever I want 🤷‍♂️
- Lily gets really warm and stressed under too much physical contact. If they're all cuddled together she'll be on the outside with Reg's face in her neck and one of James' hands on her waist but most of the time she'll only pick one of them to cuddle up to so she doesn't get overwhelmed. Regulus is always in the middle, he's touch starved to the point where refusing to hug him is like kicking a puppy
- In an au where their all raise Harry together, he's the biggest mummy's boy. There is NO way Lily isn't his favourite parent. It's always 'where's mum?' 'If mummy was here-' 'I miss mummy' she pretends to feel bad for them both but secretly loves it
- James falls asleep ANYWHERE. It's not rare at all to find him curled up on the floor while sorting laundry or snoozing in the passenger seat on a short drive. He's also a very deep sleeper, so they'll just give him a little kiss on the head, take a photo for the growing collection there saving for his 50th birthday, and cover him with a blanket.
- James and Lily go to concerts together. It's one of their favourite types of date. James and Regulus go to the cinema (Lily got them into films and they have never looked back some) and Regulus and Lily adore going to the theatre. They all like going to museums together.
- for their first anniversary, Peter got them a little orange tree that everyone expected Lily to care for the most bc she'd always been really good in jerbologj so they're all surprised when it becomes Regulus' little baby with only the best fertiliser and plant food that he forces James to get whenever he passes through Diagon.
- Every morning Reg and Lily sit and do the sudoku together
- Whenever James spends time out of the country, he'll bring back something nice for each of his friends and partners (it's his love language!) he puts so much thought into into each one that sometimes he'll dedicate an entire day of the trip to finding the perfect gift for each person
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gilraina · 6 months ago
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Sometimes when I browse the podfic tag I see posts like "I'd like to start making podfics, tell me what stories you'd like to see me podfic" and there's just something so weird about this to me? Imagine someone saying "I wanna get into making fanart, tell me what I should draw first", or "I'd like to try writing fanfic, give me ideas for stories". I know it's not a 1 to 1 comparison (and maybe it even happens sometimes, I dunno), but it just feels like such a backwards approach?
I started podficcing because I was reading a lot of fanfic and had so many fics I loved and wanted to try recording, either because I had an idea for what I wanted them to sound like when read out loud, or just wanted to experiment. Over the years I've had to tell multiple people that I don't take requests, or even commissions, because my to-pod list is already long and keeps expanding. Finding a good story, and reaching out to the author to get permission to record it, is all part of the process to me.
I don't know, maybe it just comes down to people being new to podfic and not fully understanding that part of fandom and its etiquette, but even so, my question is: if you don't know what stories you'd like to podfic, or it doesn't make a difference to you, to the point where your first instinct is to ask random strangers what they'd like you to record rather than to pick something yourself, then why would you even want to do it in the first place? Contrary to what some may believe, making a podfic is actually a lot of work (especially when you're new to it), and personally I just can't imagine putting all that work into something I'm not passionate about. And if you haven't even made a single podfic before, then how can anyone even give you a good suggestion, when they don't know yet what kinds of stories you gravitate towards, what would be the best match for your narration style, etc.?
Also, from the fic writers' perspective, I imagine there's a world of difference between
a) reaching out to the author for permission to podfic their fic, because you loved it so much that it inspired you to create something based on it
and
b) putting out a general "send me fics and (maybe) I'll record them" statement
One of those will get you a much more enthusiastic response from the writers than the other. Not to even mention that there are plenty of writers who have already given blanket permission for their fic to be podficced, and would love to get a surprise podfic of their story. If you're a podficcer or want to get into podficcing, I can't recommend using the Blanket Permission Highlighter extension enough. It highlights the names of AO3 authors who have given blanket permission for their works to be transformed, and allows you to filter the archive to only show works from authors who have BP statements.
If you'd like to try podficcing, but feel anxious about reaching out to authors to ask for permission, choosing a fic from an author who's already given that permission is a great place to start! Much better than announcing that you want to make podfics and waiting for people to reach out to you, I promise!
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chromotps · 1 year ago
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You, answering my asks while sleep deprived: 👁👄👁
Me, sending asks, depriving myself of sleep: 👁👄👁
You suggesting the feather accessories made me think about Avian Hybrids!CoraLaw. Or, well, a Wings!AU.
- Cora has black swan wings and Doffy has flamingo wings (the only time I'll ever include this dude in my AUs. I avoid this mf cuz I'm starting to like him 😭). Idk what to give Law lmao–
- Cora's wings are huge. Like, 260cm/8'6ft. They're also waterproof, he uses them to cover the people from the rain.
- Law's wings are sensitive, so he doesn't like people touching them unless he gives them permission and consent to do so. Cora is an exception tho, Law even reaches out himself so Cora would touch them (No, Bepo isn't jealous. Of course he isn't.. whaaaat. He's totally okay with sharing his pseudo blanket with Cora..!!! That's a lie. Bepo is sulking in the corner while listening to Uta's songs).
- When it's Cora's time to moult in the summer, Law usually takes him flying when he wants/needs to. It's Law's favourite part of every summer, he gets to have Cora in his arms as he takes them flying. Law also helps toss out the old feathers, but some of them are gonna be used and turn into coats for the both of them.
- As you mentioned, feather accessories! I love those omg, thank you for suggesting them!! Cora has a single earring with Law's feather dangling from it. Law has a feather of Cora's attached to Kikoku and another as an earring.
- Law's wings are warmer than Cora's (that's the real reason why Bepo likes sleeping next to Law, trust me /j), so Cora likes to be the little spoon most of the time, just so he could feel Law's warm wings engulf him (they rarely spoon each other, they look like the type to sleep with their backs flat on the mattress). Law's wings are 210cm/6'10 ft, taller than himself when tucked in (Yes I did use the height comparison website on Google lmao).
(...Nah I'm not gonna give their wings width measurements, I'm too lazy for that and it's 5am)
- And because Cora's wings are huge, it makes him hard to stay balanced and upright. Falling means he starts panicking, panicking means his wings starts flailing, his wings flailing means knocking off whatever it is near him and slapping people in the face lol. He tries to tuck them in as close as possible.
I might expand this because I love it sm, but right now I ran out of ideas. You could add your own btw! My AUs are everyone's AUs xD. Enjoy and have a great day/night!
-S
!!!!! I miss Wing!AUs... They're so nostalgic...
(okay also total sidenote, I have the same thing with Doffy. I went from thinking he seemed cool when he was first introduced to being Big Mad at the sight of him, with him killing Cora and. all that. But I've grudgingly come back around to?? strangely liking him?? I just like when villains have a sense of style and totally commit to being completely unhinged... I'm still glad he got got, but he is a fun character. 😂)
I wish I knew more Bird Facts so I could give a suggestion for Law... all I can think of right now is some kind of hawk... ooo or maybe a vulture?
God, Law still being such a SIMP with his wings 😂 and letting Cora get near them.... (hahaha I see those Bepo cameos... man if I wasn't so down bad for Cora I would throw in more with the law/bepo crew. full respect there). Also Law putting a feather on Kikoku!!!!! Ohhhh the mental image of that is so good.... Like, Law subtly showing that Cora is part of the reason he fights....
Ahhh also thinking about Cora being so used to trying to make his wings as small as possible and not inconvenience anyone with them, but one time Law makes a point to take them somewhere with a wide, open space and ask to see them... Or Cora has to fly them somewhere for the first time while running from Marines/some group that's not worth staying and fighting. And Law is just!!! awed!! at the sight of them!!! I know clumsiness is part of Cora's charm, but based on that mission where he stole the op-op fruit, we know he can be really coordinated and stealthy when needed. So, like, when he finally makes full use of his wings, maybe he's one of the fastest/swiftest flyers Law has seen.
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sanchoyo · 5 months ago
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Hi hi! (I didn't really know where to send this when I found your three blogs lol) But I came from your Shigaraki x Reader fic! "Warm Healer" :D I "devoured" it so quickly! I almost regret it, thinking I should've read slower but it was too good to not read it!! I really loved it, it's now my comfort fic <3 I honestly never thought I'd have a comfort fic one day because there are lots of good fics out there but yours? Damn it was good! I love how you write in general, It's so easy to read. And I don't mean it in a "baby easy" but I mean it as someone who's native language isn't English! I love imagining stuff in my head so you don't know how glad I was to be able to picture every scenes with so much ease! <3 I loved how you wrote MC-Chan/Reader, she's a lot like me to be honest and I could easily imagine myself in Warm Healer, even if she's braver than me lol I also love how you wrote Shigaraki, I don't know what else to say, it's just PERFECTION gdfghmjthnhgj Except the fact that I was picturing him with white hair oops xD But that's Horikoshi's fault lmao /joking
And I love how you wrote the other league members too, Dabi, Toga, Spinner, Compress, Twice, they're all so funny and/or cutie patooties! Himiko would be such a real bestie I know you wrote those AGES ago but I'd like to know if it's not too late to make fanart :3 There are two scenes that are engraved in my brain that I'd love to draw (+Tojiki!!) Tojiki seems to have a very cool design from the descriptions, so I would love to give it a try ^^ I would also like to know if I can keep some headcanons of Shiggy? Like, for example, the one where he likes jellyfishes, I really love that one it's so cute nvhgnhchcvbngv <3 Anywho! I loved it! Keep up the good work and thank you for making this fic! :D I really enjoyed it! Have a good day and take care! *Runs to read the other parts*
aaa sorry for any confusion with how many blogs I have (I have more than three actually lmao) its totally fine you sent it here!! my writing blog is @sanchoyowrites but I really only hop on there when I post something every few months so this is fine to send asks to, as well as over there :3
I'm so happy to hear that people can still enjoy it after all these years!! (I've been meaning to do a grammar correction sweep on it for years because I wrote it so long ago ;w;/ ) but I'm really relieved its an easy read despite any mistakes it might have ^_^ I never got overly descriptive with anything because I figured most people could fill in the blanks and imagine stuff about a scene in their mind so I love being right about that :D
MC-chan is braver than me too hahaha if I was in that situation I would've noped out and stayed at home (recluse reader/shigaraki when?? lmao) but I'm glad parts of her were still relatable!! she's a very 'do good recklessly' type character which I always enjoy writing <3
I like both him with dusty blue hair and the white hair. and the grey hair some people give him. all hair colors are Good hair colors on him because he is Cute <3
I'm happy you liked how I wrote the league too!! they get more screen time in the later parts of the series so I hope you continue to enjoy them :D
You can TOTALLY FOR SURE do any fanart omg!!! just tag me if you post it because I would LOVE to see any 🥺!! that would be so so cool but no pressure of course!
and yes anyone is free to yoink the little character details I added to shigaraki kjasdhfk that's very flattering, use those headcanons wherever you'd like (as far as i'm concerned the warm healer/ climats d'amour series is an open series anyone can use any parts of however they like!! anyone is free to carry those ideas over to other fics or art! I give everyone blanket permissions to do Whatever and treat it as you would public domain stuff <3)
Thank YOU so much for the kind message and letting me know you enjoyed it!! This was a really sweet message to wake up to, I appreciate you taking the time to write it out to me! I hope you also have a great day and enjoy the rest of the series!!!
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fandomgoesahhhhhhhhh · 2 years ago
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Tangled The Series x Reader Headcanons
☀️Mama Bear Rapunzel☀️
Rapunzel x Parent Issues GN Reader(Platonically)
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Yes, we heard of Big Sis Rapunzel, but what about Mother Figure Rapunzel?
Doesn’t matter what ages you are. If you have any kind of bad parents. She’ll be your non-official mother figure.
She’s that kind of mother figure that will check on you on a daily hours. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing. She’ll always make sure you’re doing ok and see if you need anything.
She’ll also make you any meals and snacks. And let me tell you. She is VERY good, since she probably cook her meals for 18 years. She’ll make your favorite foods whenever you have a bad day.
Mama Bear. That’s her nickname of the group. No jokes. If anyone tries to hurt you or any of her ‘children’..and yes Varian is her unofficial child. She will get in protective mode and use her fry pan on the person who harm you.
Like for example, if a bad person even tries to hurt you..she got mama sense..she KNOWS when you’re in danger..doesn’t matter where you are. She WILL find you and protect you..prays that the person already gone cause she’s gonna beat that person up.
Lullabies..LULLABIES! She is GOOOODDD at it. She doesn’t mind doing it every night. She want you and Varian and everyone else of her ‘bear children’ to be safe and sound. She’ll ask permission if she can rubs your back, head, or hair to comfort you. If you fall asleep during the lullaby. She doesn’t mind..if you fall asleep on her, she doesn’t mind. She’ll put the nearby blanket on you and fall asleep with you. And if you’re still asleep when she’s wake up. She won’t move til you wake up. She want to make sure that you know that she’s there whenever you need.
Free comfort for every children. Doesn’t matter what she’s doing. If she see you upset or get mama sense. She’ll comfort you right there and will give you the best advices she can give. Course, Pascal will be there and he’ll let you pet him to calm you down.
In conclusion, we need more Mama Bear and she will confront your bullcrap parents and scolds them for being bad parents. Mama Bear for number 1.
(Hope you like this. Sorry for the long wait post. Here’s some Tangled headcanons and tell me what ideas I should do next)
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chemdisaster · 2 years ago
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decided i'd make an intro post because why not
i’m chemdisaster but you can call me whatever you want. any/all pronouns
i’m a writer who also sometimes draws
adlerthetranscender on ao3
pfp and header
fandoms:
hermitcraft
life series
amrev - historical, hamilton, 1776, turn, etc.
jesus christ superstar
good omens
newsies
i also have an amrev server with some cool channels and bots. anyone who wants to is welcome to come and hang out with us!
my special interest is emotions and human misery, which is why most of my ideas in any fandom are always centred around angst
asks are always open for art requests, ideas, ranting, what have you. but be aware that it might take me a bit to answer, as i've got a lot of things going on and want to give everything a decent response
dms are always open as well but be prepared for tone issues (am autistic)
blanket permission statement: since i've had quite a few people ask me this recently - if you want to create any kind of art based on an idea of mine, please feel free! there is no monopoly on art! the world needs more of it! do as you please!
i do ask that you tag me in it or send me a link - this is not required whatsoever, i just want to see all the beautiful things people come up with
some tags:
#prattledisaster for random rambling
#artdisaster for when the powers that be push me to draw
#worddisaster for when the devil on my shoulder urges me to write
#askdisaster for when the stars above bless me with an ask
#textdisaster for fandom-related text posts
#dongdisaster for song recs (yes with a d)
#gtws angst for scar angst
#smallishbeans angst for joel angst
#daily disaster joel is the tag i used for my challenge of drawing a joel every day of 2024
#chemdisaster for all things related to my sona and their lore (pretty please check it out it's so fun)
aus:
#bad boys best buds au is my bad boys modern au in which they are childhood friends and all grow up in the same town
#hotguy mindfuckery au is my au that i really need to make a proper post for instead of just dropping random bits here and there. here are the two posts that started it though - 1 2
#cat dad au is the au i got in the divorce, and mostly consists of random out-of-context fics because none of us ever bothered to make a masterpost
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total-drama-brainrot · 1 year ago
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This might be really random, but I've read through your entire Alenoaheather-fake-dating-au-brainstorm post and it got me real inspired ngl. So I'm wondering if it'd be okay if I took inspiration from said post and the proposed plotlines to write a fanfic ?
For sure! Thanks for asking for my permission (and might I suggest also asking the lovely @perpetualexistence for her input as well), that's really considerate of you!
I'd like to make a blanket statement here that if anyone's interested in writing/creating content using my ideas I'm All For It, I'd say I give you 'my permission' but that sounds a bit too self-important for my tastes, so I'll just say you have my full support and my blessing do use my crazed ramblings as inspiration.
Also, I'd appreciate if you could tag me in whatever you end up writing! I'd love to read it!
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spacetrashpile · 2 years ago
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ok so i wanna shout into the void about the life series idea my brain gave me at like 2 AM last night.
we borrow the random lives mechanic from last life, as well as the life giving mechanic.
everyone gets randomly assigned x number of lives, probably somewhere between 2-6 again but it doesn’t super matter. all that matters is everyone knows how many lives everyone CAN get.
everyone gets randomly assigned their number of lives, but they don’t get a name color. instead, everyone’s names stay white, and you know only how many lives you have for certain. of course everyone CAN tell other people how many lives they have, but there’s no way to confirm what other people tell you.
there’s no boogeyman, and the killing rules technically stay the same as third and last life, but because no one knows anyone’s colors- not even when they go red- there’s no way to call someone on it. you just have to trust they’re playing by the rules (everyone’s been pretty good about this in the past, and none of them are actively malicious. plus kills would have to be limited until you died at least once, because you can’t start red).
the biggest intrigue of this season (to me at least) would be the life giving mechanic. giving a life would be the easiest way to reassure someone you were telling them the truth, because you must be CONFIDENT in yourself in order to do it, but it also requires you to trust them. this is a season that requires so much trust that is sometimes quite difficult to get in the life series. i think it would leave everyone walking on weird alliances and eggshells, like an even tenser version of the yellow truce in limited life.
the biggest problem here would be spoilers from the fandom. it would be ridiculous to expect people to not touch their comments or fandoms or what have you for weeks to avoid spoilers. so here would be my proposal to stop that: instead of filming a session each week and putting it out in the same week, all of the sessions are recorded in one period of time, however long that takes, and start coming out once a week once the game is done. this would probably help solve some scheduling issues the life series tends to have to- if there’s no weekly timeline, they can film whenever everyone is free. and it would give people more time to edit their episodes! it would just generally give everyone a lot more grace.
and the OTHER thing: this would be a stupidly easy way to avoid nameMC spoilers, which it seems ccs are either becoming more aware of or more annoyed by lately. not only would people not necessarily be looking (necessarily. i won’t say i don’t stalk nameMC outside of series sometimes just to see what everyone’s up to, lol.) but skins would also be a spoiler to your fellow players! i mean, sure, you COULD change your skin to try and reassure other people, but no one would know if you were being truthful, and even if you were, is that necessarily the best strategy? don’t want to put a target on your back by broadcasting such a secret.
idk what this one would be called, maybe false life or secret life or something, but i genuinely think it would be super cool. like obviously i don’t expect this to be a thing we ever see cause i’m just a guy shouting into the void of my tumblr, but i know people predicted last and double life before they happened, maybe grian’s got a secret tumblr and is looking for ideas. if that is the case i give you blanket permission to use this lol.
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gringle-pringle · 2 years ago
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What I wouldn’t give for a How to Train Your Dragon Au wherein Stoick from the past ended up in the same timeline as future hiccup wherein he and adult hiccup get captured by dragon hunters and put in a “fight to the death against dragons” arena wherein day 1 is spent fighting against whispering deaths that stoick’s ok killing and hiccup feels sympathetic for and concedes to fighting them only because it might put them out of their misery and can’t let his dad be killed.
Then there’s the night in the cells after their victory in scaring off the dragons and Stoick’s all proud, “my son! One day a dragon killer, I can’t believe it” to which hiccup sees his dad happy and alive and he… he has to tell him and be honest. Stoick goes through a whole span of emotions in a few minutes, but hiccup fills him in on the future, but Stoick doesn’t believe it. There’s no way. There’s like a whole convo about how “dad, you need to trust me if we’re gonna make it out of here alive.” So with reluctance stoick’s like “ok. What do we need to do?”
Jeering from the guards told them they’d be up against monsterous nightmares, hiccup concocts a plan. We try taming them into not fighting us, We collect their gel, and then later tonight we can use it to bust out of here. The bars are made of iron, but we’re only need a little bit to melt the lock, I can scrape my peg leg against the stone to create the sparks to light it. I’ll collect as much gel as I can if you can distract them, we’ll need it if we want to save my friend, toothless who was also captured
“toothless? What kinda name is that?” Stoick asks. “Well I suppose you’ll find out soon enough”
Bam. Arena style where they battle the dragons. The crowd gets annoyed after hiccup tames the dragons, stoick’s like “what the hell? That actually worked” bam. They get thrown back into their cells because their captors are pissed they won.
Cue an escape, “you forgot to mention the toothless is a bloody dragon, son?!??” “Yeah, well you didn’t seem too on board with anything to do with dragons. Now might be a good time to tell you this is the only way we’re getting off this island, let’s go.” Then they bust outta there, and.. that’s about as far as I got. Anyone wishing to steal this idea is free to do so and you have blanket permission as long as you let me read it afterwards 🥺
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lily-drake · 3 years ago
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Fantasy/Twin AU
Sorry for being late and not posting for a bit. Was a bit burnt out and had writer block. I will go back to write the other days soon though. Also, sorry, I suck at writing wing aus, this is my first time doing it.
Earth J-236, an earth full of mystical life.  An earth where everyone is born with wings.  Your wings represented who you are; well not really, but that’s what people believed.  If your wings were bright and colorful then you were obviously an amazing person, but if your wings were darker or had little color, then you have great evil in your soul.  Marinette was born seconds after her twin, Damian.  It takes a few years before your wings fully grow in, usually to about 6.  But with the accelerated growth serums used in their artificial wombs, it took them till they were three for their feathers to sprout.  Damian’s were black like their father’s with subtle hints of red like their mothers.  Marinette’s were pure black, devoid of any color, and her mother was so proud of that.  She was the League’s charm, for it’s believed that anyone with pure black wings was pure evil.  Her only purpose being to protect her brother, nothing else was more important than her brother’s safety.  She would die for him, because if he died she might as well have died as well as her only purpose for living would be gone.
Damian glared at his sister, his wings ruffling in annoyance.  She was hovering close to him again, and she never said anything to him ever unless she was completely sure they were alone.  He did not believe that his sister was or could ever be, “pure evil” just because of her wings.  In fact, her mannerisms are the exact opposite of what people believed.  She, in her own ways, is caring, sweet, and protective.  He had seen, and helped, her nurse a baby bird that had fallen from its nest back to health.  She would often place little things around the base for only him to find such as some extra baklava, a throwing knife, a drawing of someone, beads, or other random objects.  Grandfather had always been extra hard on her, making sure she wouldn’t betray them, she wouldn’t become “evil enough to lose herself”.  Sometimes she would sneak into his room at night, and it tore him apart to see silent tears run down his little sister's face as small black raven feathers fell onto the floor from her days worth of training.  He had been learning how to fly, her wings had been clipped every two or three months so she could not leave the base.  She had learned long ago to control her facial and wing expressions, but he could always see the droop in them and the sad shine in her eyes as she stood on the ground while he was in the air.
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Marinette looked up and watched as the fiery Phoenix flew through the air setting Nada Parabat aflame.  She didn’t feel much as she watched her grandfather get blown up.  She only felt great anxiety and fear as she could not find her brother.  She loved her brother, and if her job was to cause chaos, she would make sure she could prevent it from hurting him.  Grandfather had told her about how cursed she was, it’s why they had to be extra tough on her, and she understood that.  They couldn’t have her hurting anyone they needed, only the people they wanted gone.  She was angry at grandfather yesterday for taking some of her feathers for failing a task, this must have been her fault.  She didn’t want to hurt her brother, her wings had only proven nothing but destruction.  She had to leave now, then she could go where no one else was, and she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else.  So like a coward, like the disgrace she was, she ran.  She kept her wings tight against her back making sure that no one could grab them as she ran.  An arrow hit one of them, but she didn’t have time to think about the burning pain as she ran and ran and ran farther and farther and farther away.  Tears ran down her cheeks as she silently prayed that her brother would be okay.
She didn’t know how long she ran, but she knew it must have been a really long time as she had just collapsed from exhaustion in the woods.  She looked back at her wings and slowly and carefully spread them out and hissed in pain from where the arrow had pierced her left wing.  Drops of red slowly dripped down her feathers and dropped on the ground.  She quickly closed them and made sure they were as small and put away as possible.  She looked up at the trees made of brass with different colored jade leaves.  Pearl-like apples growing on a few.  She watched a baby griffon follow it’s mother in the distance, turtle ducks waddling to a pond somewhere nearby, deer nibbling on plants, she could hear the rustling of leaves and branches from unseen creatures and everything was getting more blurry and dark.  She was cold, it felt very cold.  She slowly unwound her wings from around herself and closed them tightly around her, but that didn’t stop the chill that went deep down to her bones.  She was a failure, a mistake, she would only cause harm.  Here she wouldn’t be able to do that, and if she died here, then no one would be hurt by her again, and wasn’t that such a nice thought.
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Tom and Sabine had finally been able to hire some trusted employees and explore places in Tibet.  They had made lots of money over the years with their successful bakery, and they thought now was a better time than ever to go on a real honeymoon as they hadn’t been able to afford it before when the bakery had first started.  It was during one of these forest explorations when they saw a trail of little drops of blood and felt they needed to follow it.  What they discovered broke their hearts.  There lying on the cold forest floor was what appeared to be a child hugging their very black wings around them.  They knew of the rumors and myths of black winged people, but they did not care.  They believed that their wings were not what made them evil, but rather situations put into their lives.  Sabine quickly checked for a pulse, and though it was slow she sighed in relief when she felt it.  She quickly handed the small unconscious girl to Tom and they both quickly went to the nearest hospital.  How could someone leave such a small child all alone to die like that?  It looked as if she had been injured if the dried blood on the small fragile wings said anything.  And worst of all, upon closer examination, they had been clipped, recently too.
As soon as they arrived they carried the small girl to the front and demanded that they take her in.  They waited until the doctors were done and gave them permission to visit claiming to be the girl’s adopted parents.  It wasn’t technically a lie, they would be soon even if Sabine had to force it to happen.
When Marinette woke up she knew something was off.  She was under a blanket, she’s never been given a blanket before.  The sent of bleach and chemicals were everywhere and it hurt her nose.  There was a beeping noise next to her that was giving her a headache.  She didn’t know where she was, and that was bad.  She opened her eyes a small fraction so nobody could see she was awake and looked around as much as she could.  The entire room was white and there were bright lights.  There were two strange people waiting in chairs near where she was laying.  She wondered if they were the ones who brought her here.  Slowly she opened them up all the way and silently sat up.  It’s best to make no noise, then she wouldn’t disturb anyone.
“Oh sweety, I’m so glad you’re awake.”
The woman said in a cheery and relieved manner, but she just continued to watch and study them silently.  Her wings felt stiff against her back, though she made sure they didn’t move or give anything away.
“How are you feeling dear?”
Silence greeted them, and her face remained as impassive as ever.  They wanted something, why else would they save a freak like her?  What were they aiming for here?
“Did your parents hurt you?  If so, we can take you away from them.”
Marinette’s eyes widened only a fraction.  These were randoms, innocents if you will.  They obviously had no idea who she was, and they seemed unafraid of her and her wings.  Did they not know how dangerous she was, didn’t they know that black wings meant she was cursed?  The man and the woman looked at eachother and spread their wings.  Marinette was shocked, but she wouldn’t show it.
The large man had light brown eagle wings while the small woman had white and black woodpecker wings.  She wanted to reach out and touch the feathers, but then something bad would happen to them, so she held her hands together.
“We don’t care what your wing color is.  Your wings don’t define who you are, it’s what you do with your life that does.  Can we please help you?”
The woman said sincerely as she gripped the man’s hand in hers.  She felt a pull to them, something telling her to accept.  She didn’t want to hurt them though.  But maybe she could protect them?  Maybe she could find a way around her curse and make sure they don’t get hurt?  Slowly she nodded and they both looked so happy when she did.  She hoped that she wouldn’t hurt them, they didn’t deserve to be cursed.  Maybe if she didn’t touch them things would be ok.  If she didn’t let them touch her then it wouldn’t spread.  She could do this!
________
Apparently she couldn’t do it because this is a very affectionate family, and the first thing that happened before they let her sleep on their —super fluffy, pure Heaven— bed was give her a hug.  She had made sure that her wings were tucked under her clothes and tight against her back the entire time though.  So they didn’t touch her wings, so maybe that meant they wouldn’t be cursed.
It was strange, because the next morning they went to a courthouse, and she was adopted.  She hadn’t said anything throughout the entire event, she just watched and observed what people did.  They stayed in Tibet for another few days before they flew to Paris, France.  This was supposed to be her new home.  The city of light and love.  Maybe here, it would stop her curse.  It was so bright that it had to block out her darkness.  She still always carried one of her knives with her, she felt naked without one.  Tom and Sabine seemed to understand somehow, and said that it was her business and that was enough for them till she was ready to talk about it.  It was strange not to be interrogated for now wanting to tell someone something.
Marinette had lived with the Dupain-Chengs for about a year now.  It was strange really, they were honest business people and their joy was always sincere.  They didn’t question much of what she did even though it was probably weird to them.  They didn’t punish her for messing up like the league did, and they never went near her wings without permission.  They never plucked her feathers, and they would often ask if they could preen her wings.  She would refuse every time, but she would often wonder what it would be like to have someone else touch them.  Think of what it would be like if she weren’t cursed.  When it was time for school she would always wrap them around herself then tape them so no one would see or be able to touch them.  Things were finally going well, she couldn’t risk it now!
There was a blonde brat that liked to act like she was above her, and because her wings were always hidden with no explanation she made sure everyone knew that she was “wingless”.  She didn’t care though, being wingless was better than being evil winged.  She never really said anything in class or to other students, she never gave much reaction keeping her stoic face up.  The brat left her alone soon after for being a, “ridiculous!  Utterly ridiculous freak.”  And nobody was the wiser.
Being Lady Chaos was….the best thing that ever happened to her if she was being honest.  Even with pure black wings, people still thought she was a hero.  She never flew, she was scared she’d fall and die.  She was never allowed to fly before, and even if she technically can do so now, it’s not worth the risk.  Her partner though, Mr. Bug has gold, red, and black wings.  He can fly through the air with ease she wished she desperately had.  Sometimes after patrol she would go to the very top of the Eiffel Tower and just stretch her wings out as far out as she could.  She would close her eyes as the wind blew past her and ruffled her feathers and pretend that she was soaring through the air.
________
Year three of living with Tom and Sabine she was comfortable talking to them more, and with Plagg there to control her chaos she finally let them touch her wings.  It was strange really, she never took care of her wings, never cared enough to.  When she first felt the hands on her feathers she had to will herself not to draw them back for fear of them plucking or ripped out.  But Sabine’s hands were so gentle and smooth that they seemed to move on their own and go closer to her touch.  Sabine would smile and hum as she gently preened the dark raven feathers that were soft and smooth.  Maybe she could finally tell the class that she wasn’t wingless soon, and maybe they would be okay with it.
No, they would not as she learned from listening to her classmates talk to the new student, Lila Rossi.  To them Lady Chaos was the only good black winged person because she was chasing after Mr. Bug to earn his affections.  Lady Chaos was obviously evil before she met Mr. Bug and she would always be evil no matter what she did.  Marinette felt nauseous that she ever thought about telling them the truth.  She had never felt more betrayed than she felt now, because she had given them her trust, and they broke it without even knowing it.  After that day, she made extra sure that her wings were hidden and wore a bit thicker clothing just in case.  Tom and Sabine are a little worried about it, but she calmed them pretty quickly.  She was fine, it wasn’t like they were all great friends to begin with.  That’s probably why everyone sides with Lila and decides that she’s a terrible person.
She had tried leaving her past behind, pretending that she didn’t hurt and kill people.  Pretend that she wasn’t a weapon.  She tried to push it far away, but it wasn’t enough.  It was never enough.  She had abandoned her brother.  She betrayed the league.  She did unspeakable things to please someone who would never care about her, just her use.  The city of lights seems duller than usual, it was probably her fault Hawkmoth came to be in the first place, afterall she was cursed to bring ruin everywhere she went.
________
Lila and Chloe thought it would be a great idea to bring everybody to the Crime Capital of the World for their senior trip.  Probably to watch people flounder and worry when things go wrong, which they definitely would.  She had stopped Hawkmoth a month before the trip, but Mr. Bug took all the credit for it. The arrogant self centered bas*.  Adrien kept giving her side glances that always made her feel uncomfortable and slightly disgusted.  During school he would try to touch her with every chance he’d get.  He almost discovered her wings at one point.  She couldn’t do anything about it before because of the stupid your-rich-so-do-whatever-the-heck-you-want treatment.  Now that Adrien’s family fortune is gone, and people don’t trust him because of what his dad did, so he has to be more careful.  He now kept some distance, which she was extremely grateful for.
She would have broken his hand, she had imagined it plus other things more than once.  But then Tom and Sabine would get in trouble by Gabriel for her actions.  They didn’t deserve that, they had been nothing but good to her since they found her abandoned in that forest.
She would be fine though, as long as Lila had a grip on his arm and she was in the back, away from him.  She listened to their tour guide, Richard Grayson, talk about the history and importance of WE.  The architecture was brilliant really, and you couldn’t blame her for having to draw and sketch it.  She often thought of Damian when she sketched.  She used to leave drawings for him around the base, little things that expressed her adoration for him without getting too close.  She wondered if he was still with the league, had he escaped, did he die?  She hoped that wasn’t the case, she hoped that he would be alive and well.  Bright orange and white wings nearly slapped her in the face if she hadn’t stopped right before the movement had occurred.
“Oh my gosh!  I’m so sorry Marinette!  Sometimes my wings just spasm out of control like that!  I didn’t hurt you did I?”
Marinette just silently rolled her eyes and took a few steps backward and watched the class glare at her waiting for her to comfort the liar.  She would never lower herself to do that.  She was still an Al Ghul afterall, even if she did leave it behind when she fled.  She was thankful when lunch came, she waited far away from the line and watched silently from a dark corner to make sure no one would hurt her.  Then she felt it, a hand touching her back feeling for something.  She quickly and instinctively grabbed the arm and twisted it behind them pinning it behind their back at a painful angle.
“Ukhti, let go.”
Marinette knew that voice.  She remembered that name and she could feel her heart stop.  The lunchroom was silent as they watched the small bluenette silently and quickly release the “Ice Prince”. Everyone watched with bated breaths to see what would happen next.  The boy’s wings were ruffled in agitation and fear.
“Where are they?”
He demanded.  Marinette knew what he was talking about, she simply wrapped her arms around herself and turned her head away definitely.
“Why are you hiding them, Malak?  Please.”
Marinette could feel her wings moving in defiance to what her brain was saying.  They wanted to be shown, they wanted to be touched by her brother again.  She looked down and slowly uncrossed her arms from her body.  Damian gently took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes.
“Everything will be ok, Taw'ami.”
She slowly nodded and with shaky fingers reached under her hoodie and began to slowly unwrap the tape that kept her wings confined.  When all the tape was in her hands she hesitantly removed her hoodie and let her wings unfold from around herself and into the open.  She had made shirts that let her wings slip through slits in the back that were tailored to her wings specifically and were most comfortable.  Damian marveled at how big her raven wings had grown and how shiny they were.  He reached out a hand slowly and gently ran his fingers down the inky black that was her wings.
Shouts of fear and accusations were thrown at her, mostly from her class.  She didn’t listen though, she just observed.  The tour guide was coming over now, probably to kick her out.  He had such lovely wings though,  they were a deep navy blue that looked similar to black with dark red and light blue running through them.  They looked so well kept and soft.
“Damian, what’s happening?  Who is this?”
“Grayson, meet my twin sister, Marinette.”
“You have a twin?!”
Richard exclaimed loudly, drawing even more attention.  The insults and jeers stopped after that.  She looked over at the class and smirked when she saw their shock and confusion.
“Yes, keep up.”
Damian said brusquely.  They must know each other well then.
“Come, we must take her away from these imbeciles and take her to father.”
Damian grabbed her wrist and tugged, her quickly falling into line like she used to when he did this.
“Now tell me Ukhti, have you been taking care of yourself?”
She nodded as they came to an elevator and walked into it with Richard right behind them.  Marinette felt her feathers fluff up nervously.  She wasn’t in control of them right now, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Damian ran a hand gently down her right wing trying to smooth it down.
“Things will be fine Marinette.  Just watch, father will be glad to meet you.”
She looked him in the eyes and squeezed her hands together.
“No, I have not told him about you.  Things will be fine though.”
He seemed to understand her weird way of communicating, she still didn’t understand how he did.  Richard cleared his throat and both turned to look at him.
“Sorry to interrupt, but um…I’m Dick, I’m Damian’s, and yours I guess, oldest brother.  It’s nice to meet you.”
He spread his wings in a welcoming way that meant and showed safety and peace. Her wings involuntarily rose up as well to reciprocate his greeting.  When the door to the elevator opened again she quickly forced her wings to hide on her back trying desperately to keep them from sight.  Damian didn’t seem to like it, but he just grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a large office room.  The plaque on the door read “CEO Bruce Wayne”.  Their father was Bruce Wayne?!  She couldn’t go in there, she couldn’t curse him and ruin his life.  No, she had already messed up at the league, and she was just barely not messing up with Tom and Sabine, she would definitely ruin Bruce Wayne’s life, and she would not allow that to happen.  She tugged at his grip desperately trying to get away.
“Marinette, stop.  Your wings are not cursed, that was a lie.”
Marinette shook her head and kept trying to escape the iron-like grip.
“Do you not trust me anymore?”
She froze at that and quickly shook her head.  Of course she trusted him, it was her that shouldn’t be trusted.
“Good, because we’re going in now.”
And that was that, because the door was now open and she was being dragged into the office room where their father and another boy with large bags under his eyes stared at them.  Damian puffed up his chest and feathers letting his strong, big, and brilliant wings rise into the air.
“Father, this is your daughter, my twin, Marinette Erebus Al Ghul-Wayne.”
They both stared at her in shock and Marinette slowly and cautiously raised her despicable black wings into the air.  Both stared at them in awe before looking back at her, but she didn’t meet their eyes.  She didn’t want to see the disgust and hatred in their eyes.
After a few moments she looked up and saw their wings greeting hers like Dick’s had.  Their father’s wings were a mix of black and dark grey alternating the color in each row of feathers.  The other boy’s were black at the top and slowly turned to red at the bottom.  But they were welcoming her openly, so that must mean something!  Well, it was time to get to know her father, she guessed.
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wwilloww · 4 years ago
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point of no return | PJM
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Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Genre: Smut. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Roommates AU.
WC: 10.2k
Summary: Both Jimin and you are determined to never act on the feelings you hold for one another. Instead, you’d rather shove it down, somewhere deep, dark, and inaccessible. So what do you get when you mix a broken furnace, an old victorian home, a little bit of jealousy in the club, and a need to keep warm together? A mess.
Warnings & Tags: Cursing. Reader is really freakin cold. Jimin sleeps in the nude. Spooning. Grinding. Obscene daydreaming about your best friend.  Sex dreams. Mentions of alcohol. Dancing. Jimin is a little jealous. Masterbation. Unexpected visual. Super soft makeout. Fingering. Orgasm denial. Sex. Slight power play. Creampie.  
AN: Oof! Finally! A Jimin fic! Thank you to @thatlongspringnight for guiding me through the last 6k of this fic, all written in one day and for being the most brilliant, queen of queens level beta reader. A big thanks to @triviasapphic too, for letting me use their likeness! 
This is very loosely based on this ask beautifully submitted by the loveliest @jinpanman for the milestone request party! 
©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.
point of no return 
“Fuckin’ shithead mutherfuckin cunt basket,” you hiss.
Nothing would turn it on.
You tried pressing the knob. You tried twisting it until your hand rubbed raw. You tried shaking it. You tried begging in your sweetest, most saccharine tone. You even tried giving it compliments.
“Have I ever told you how sexy you look with three coats of white paint? No?”
Fifteen minutes ago the antique radiator — so old it would probably be better in a museum of old technologies than as a functioning heat mechanism — stuttered to a halt and refused to turn back on.
When you had picked the house out with your best friend, Jimin, you’d loved it for it’s Victorian era charm. But now with the December cold creeping in through the thin window and your refusal to own more than one blanket you were shivering madly, teeth clattering cold. And wildly in doubt of your house hunting skills.
With a heavy sigh and slumped shoulders, you drag your comforter off of the mattress, wrap it tightly over your shivering shoulders, and pad barefoot down the hall. Instead of knocking, you just twist the door handle, letting the door swing open before you with a long, drawn-out squeak. You wince at the sound.
A dark figure sits up from the bed, squinting at you in the darkness.
“Is that—”
“It’s me,” you whisper. If it were anyone else, that response would be useless. But after years of friendship Jimin knows every tune and nook in your voice — the way it sounds when you’re upset, or scared, or — in this case — really fucking cold. “The heater broke.”
“What?” His voice is groggy and sleep-heavy.
“The heater broke. Can I stay here tonight?”
He scrunches his nose and wipes a hand across his face.
“Yeah, sure, uh—” He shifts a bit in bed and that’s when you realize he’s not wearing anything at all. You gulp. It’s the coldest month of the year and the fucker is naked in bed, nothing more than a top sheet thrown over his body, the rest of the duvet crumpled at the foot of the bed. Even though you know he’s one to sleep in the nude (“It invigorates your skin and keeps your body temperature regulated,” he had explained to you once) seeing it, in front of you, just the thinnest piece of fabric between you and your best friend’s junk is a whole other story.
As he moves, the sheet slips down, revealing his toned stomach, only visible by the moonlight flooding through the bay windows of his bedroom.
“Give me a minute to put something on?”
“Uh huh,” you mumble, turning around quickly to give him some semblance of privacy, your blanket whooshing out behind you.
You can hear him pad over to his dresser, just three feet behind you. You swallow hard as you imagine him, totally naked, so close to you. Literally within arms reach. If you could only—
“Turn around, I’m done.”
You peek over your shoulder before turning fully, only to see Jimin, now clothed in some pretty short black boxers, climbing back into bed. Blanket trailing, you shuffle after him, climbing into the warm bed from the other side.
You pull your comforter as tightly around you as you can, but you’re still cold. As you turn to face away from your friend, you can’t help but shiver, your shoulders shaking with the chill that’s settled deep in your bones.
“Can you stop shaking?” Jimin’s sleep-adled voice grunts from behind you.
“I’m too cold,” you whine.
“Come ‘ere—”
And before you know it, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging your body backwards until it meets his. He pulls the blanket up and slides in behind you, wrapping himself around your shivering form.
“Better?” he asks while you’re still in shock from the amount of contact he’s just put the two of you in.
“Mhmm,” you squeak out, even as your body continues to shake.
“You’re a liar,” he chuckles.
“I don’t know why you bothered to ask then,” you snap back, wrapping your arms tight around yourself.
You’re not sure if he sees this or if he’s acting on his own accord. You let out a small gasp as he tugs you even closer, his arm slipping under the blanket to press against the skin of your hip. He maneuvers you backwards, your body as limp as a puppet, while you lay there in shock (and a small bit of exhilaration). He presses the back of your body flush against his front and snakes his top arm up the front of your torso until it rests in the center of your chest, gripping your opposite shoulder.
Trapped.
You’re trapped in his arms, nowhere to move, nowhere to go. Only the sound of your combined breaths, his a little more slow and sleepy than your nervous pant. Trapped only with the idea of him so close, and the strange thing fluttering in your chest that only continues to grow bigger and bigger despite all the work you’ve done to push it away. All you can think about is the way he’s pressed up against you, only your thin flannel pajama pants and his even thinner black boxers keeping the most sensitive parts of your bodies apart.
When he shifts, nustling his nose into the crook of your shoulder, you swear you can feel something long and hard press up against your ass.
And suddenly the warmth that is flooding through you has absolutely nothing to do with the shared body heat. Instead it’s coming from someplace deep down — somewhere yearning and desperate — and also from that strange fluttering thing in your chest.
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All there is is white. You know somewhere far above you is an endless sea of stars, blinking down on you. But all you know is the grass beneath you and the swimming white sheets that float above and around you.
Someone’s laughing and you turn your face to see him — Jimin — beaming and reaching out towards you.
Somewhere in your mind you know it’s night time and that everything should be dark — and yet, everything around him is lit up and glows with a sourceless light.
Joy rushes through you and as you reach out towards him, he disappears and a new kind of light — warmth — appears behind you.
“I want—” you start to say, but his hand comes up to your mouth, silencing you.
“If you speak, you’ll break the dream,” he says. “Just enjoy it. Let me be here with you.”
Eyes don’t close in dreams, but you know you drift somewhere soft, the feeling of his body so close to yours and the precious rhythm of his breath tracing your neck.
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All there is warmth.
Too much of it, actually.
As your eyes blink open to the dark room, the remnants of some dream, lots of white, Jimin’s smile fall away from your consciousness. You kick your leg out into the freezing air and sigh as the coolness washes the heat from your body. Relief.
The warmth that hasn’t been erased, however, is sitting heavy in your lower belly, pooling and swirling and wanting.
You do your best to ignore it, knowing it’s probably some mix of the dream and the thing that you’ve kept hidden on the edge of your consciousness for too long.
You close your eyes again, wishing for sleep to come back and pull you away from these thoughts. Just as you feel the soft edges of another dream lapping at the edges of your mind, Jimin groans behind you and comes to press up against you again, his hand snaking down over your belly.
Eyes shoot open. There. Behind you. Right between the swell of your ass. You can feel his cock pressing into you, at full hardness. You gasp at the sensation, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth so as not to wake him. Slowly, you try to scootch away from his grip, but he holds you there, his arm only tightening when you try to move away.
It’s not that you don’t want it — you do — your body is singing with electricity at the thought of his hard cock against you, between you, inside you. God, if only. However, it’s the consequences, the unspoken question, the unanswered desires (the answer to which you may just not want to know) that push you away from him.
This is your best friend. The person you’ve always been able to rely on and trust. The man you know you can turn to at any moment and know there will never be a question dangling between the two of you.
Except for now.
As he slowly circles his hips against yours, the most delightful, breathy pants falling from his lips — so soft you can barely hear them — the question looms larger than ever.
Are you in love with your best friend?
However, here, his arm wrapped so tightly around your belly, it’s easy to sink into the desire. To equate the arrival of the question with the arousal rising in your body. To tell yourself this is just pleasure, this is natural.
Jimin’s palm is splayed out across your lower belly, pressing hard against you.
He’s rutting shallowly against you, moving for the sake of his own pleasure. A high note of satisfaction slips from his lips, before a name tumbles shortly after it into your ear.
Not any name.
Your name.
You choke on your own words as you understand it. Confusion rushes over you but it’s quickly replaced by adrenaline as his hand clenches and unclenches around your shirt and he shifts and stretches.
Jimin is waking up. Is he going to say something? Is he going to tell you he didn’t mean it at all? Will he run from you?
His body freezes as he realizes the position he’s in. Wrapped so intimately around you, his hard cock pressed against you.
“Shit,” you hear him whisper. “Shit, shit, shit.”
You squeeze your eyes closed and lay as still as possible as you feel him pull away from you. And then the bed dips just enough and you realize he’s leaning over you, checking to see if you’re asleep or not.
You smooth out your features, hoping he doesn’t catch that you’ve been awake this whole time.
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The December morning light is streaming in bold and warm through the window.
Your hand goes searching for Jimin, but all you find is an empty, chilled, pillow. There’s a good chance he’s already headed out for the day to see friends or to run errands and so you assume it’s safe as you tiptoe downstairs to get some water and some much needed coffee. Not that you slept much last night.
As you enter the kitchen, the earthy smell of fresh coffee hits you and you take a deep breath, inhaling the nutty aroma. There’s a full pot of coffee already waiting for you on the counter. You smile. Jimin has always been a considerate housemate, but to leave you coffee in the morning? I’m so lucky to have a friend like him, you sigh as you turn to the cabinet to grab a mug.
“Good morning!” an almost nervous, too-cheery voice sings out from behind you.
“AGh!” you cry, nearly dropping the mug you’re holding. Jimin’s quicker than you are though, and reaches out, just as it drops below your belly button. He’s laughing, his delightful giggle filling the light-painted kitchen but all you can think about is how close he’s standing to you, the mug brushing up against your stomach.
“Got it,” he grins.
“You know you can’t jump out at me like that!” you scold, trying to take the mug back from him. But he turns and goes to fill it up for you.
“I literally said your name twice before you noticed. Someone was too lost in dreamland.”
“Pshh, no, I — you need to be a little louder.”
“Can we talk about last night?” Jimin asks as he hands you a cup of coffee. “I, uh, I think there was an accident, I had a dream you were—”
You panic.
“Last night? Oh gosh yeah! I slept like a rock! Thank you for keeping me warm. I would have frozen to death if it weren’t for you.”
You smile as sweetly as you can at him.
He blinks back.
“I mean — uh, yeah, sure, I mean, you’re welcome but that’s not what I mean —”
“Nothing to talk about!” you chirp, already scurrying towards the stairs that lead back up to your bedroom.
“Hey! I’m trying to talk to you!” he cries as you pad upstairs, making a beeline for your bedroom as the coffee you’re holding sloshes around in the mug.
“Oof, well I’m already tired again, gonna take a nap!”
You sprint up the stairs and as you do you hear him call behind you.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”
It hits harder than you want it to.
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“Come on, princess. You’re taking forever!”
You’re back down on your bed, swaddled in all the blankets in the house you could find, scrolling through your phone.
“I don’t want to go!”
“Well I do!” The door finally swings open and Jimin stands there, all dolled up for the night out. He’s wearing tight leather pants that hug his toned thighs just right and a half opened black shirt that he’s still buttoning as you look on. Beneath his hands, his chest shows, the muscular planes simple and sheer perfection. A single silver earring dangles from his left ear, the other one filled with a variety of studs.
As you peek out of your blanket fort, you gulp as you take in his flawless appearance. He looks like straight sex, the darkness of his outfit highlighting every muscle and curve.
"You look nice," you manage to squeak, and Jimin blushes, his praise kink showing. "Those pants are..." Hot as fuck? More beautiful than the Mona Lisa? Just asking me to rip them off? Floundering for language, you just let your sentence trail off as he looks on, a pink tinge still dancing across his features.
"You wanna wear them?"
"Pfft, no," you lie.
“Are you planning on getting out of bed?”
“No.”
"Well then, if you're not going to get out of bed and dress yourself I'll do the honors." Jimin stomps over to the tiny door leading to your closet and swings it open. He ruffles through your set of clothes, as disparate from a full flannel collection (one that you are quite proud of) to an evening gown that never got worn. Words you can't quite hear or understand tumble from his mouth in a stream of frustrated mumbles as he seems to be looking for something very specific. "Aha!" he finally cries out. "Here it is."
What he pulls out is not what you expected.
It's a simple piece. A light tan slip dress, one with a bit of a scoop to the bust. One that hugs all of your curves just right and sits low enough the weight keeps the dress exactly where you want it to be and high enough that your upper thighs are deliciously on display - something that simultaneously excites you and scares the hell out of you. You bought it on a whim, hoping it would help you embody your inner club girl (or "inner slut" as your friend Jungkook would correct you - which, if you were being entirely honest, was really what you meant when you spoke about going to the club.)
"That one? Really?"
"What, you wanna wear this?" He turns back to the closet before pulling out a second dress, this one long and emerald green and sparkly with a full slit up the side.
"No." You pout.
"Then what's the problem?"
"Ugh!" you cry, burrowing deeper into your blanket fort. "Itsmyslutdress," you mumble.
"What?"
"Itsmyslutdress!" you mumble, but louder this time.
"Did you just call it a slut dress?"
You pop your head out of the warmth cocoon with a sigh.
"Yes."
"What does that even mean?"
"It is the dress I wear when I want to embody my slutty alter-ego. The dress I wear when I wanna get laid."
Jimin blinks a few times before turning back to you with a grin.
"Well--do you not want to get laid tonight?" he asks slowly.
You gape at him.
Even as best friends, even talking about your hookups, you never really talked about sex iteself. Everytime you brought it up, whether it was at the bar and you were ogling some tall, dark, handsome stranger as if some psychic had promised you he was your entire future, he always seemed to shut down. And yet, around your other friends, he was an open book. "Basically a sex expert," Jungkook had told you once. "A sexpert." He'd added, grinning.
But with you, sex was off the table. You were more open and vulnerable with him than you were anyone in your life - and he with you. But sex was just never on the discussion board for you two.
"Do you wanna get laid tonight?"
"Are you offering?" you shoot back teasingly.
"Of course," he says softly.
Your mouth drops.
Of course? Of course?!
"I mean! No! What? Wait? Can you repeat the question?"
"You said yes," you say slowly.
"What! No! I did not!"
Jimin is basically stomping his foot on the ground.
"You did!"
He looks almost angry and you're not sure whether to laugh at the softness with which he had agreed to fuck you - or to feel hurt by his quick change of mind.
"Did not!"
You break into giggles finally releasing yourself from your cocoon of warmth to sprawl out on the bed in a fit of laughter. Your little tirade is quickly shut down though as the silky fabric of the dress is thrown onto your face and you cough around the material.
"Get dressed. I don't want to be late," he says, his voice flat.
“It’s too cold for the slut dress,” you grumble in a last ditch effort, fabric falling into your mouth as you sleep.
“Then wear a fucking turtleneck and snow pants to the club,” Jimin says. “I don’t care, just please get dressed.”
The door slams and when you pull the dress away from your face, the room is empty again. With a sigh, you roll off the bed and begin to get ready for the night.
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By the time you pulled up to the dark, sticker-plastered doors of the club, Jimin had resumed his usually joyful and peppy demeanor, all memories of his little slip up erased from the night.
You knew better than to push him about it. You knew that he shut down when you called him out on these things in the past— like the way his eyes lingered on you for too long when you showed off a new bathing suit, the cute little stutter he donned when he was flustered by you, or the way he would basically run at top speed in any direction away from you when you emerged from the shower, nothing but a towel wrapped around your body.
As you are swallowed into the sea of dancing figures and booming bass, you feel his hand come to rest on your waist. Pushing further into the crowd, his touch is reassuring. Steadying. His way of keeping a hold on you without actually holding onto you.
He sees them before you do, and quickly grabs onto your hand, tugging you forward into the mass of swaying figures. Waving and yelling their names, the two of you tumble towards your friends. Jungkook and Raven stand near the bar, their faces lighting up when they finally spot you in the mess of strangers.
Raven embraces you first, his arms pulling you in for a tight hug.
“I wanna dance!” Jungkook says before you can even step away from Raven. Drinks abandoned, Jungkook has grabbed both yours and Jimin’s hands and drags you out to the dance floor.
The bass courses through you as your friends surround you, bopping and swaying to the barely understandable lyrics.
Jimin has always been a good dancer. A great dancer, actually. His moves range from absolutely side-achingly hilarious to -- dare you say it -- undeniably sensual.
He twirls you onto the dance floor, the two of you falling into your usual routine of swinging and laughing and kicking all around.
And as the upbeat and perhaps misplaced summer hit switches to a more sensual song he matches it naturally, letting his hips sway and glide to the rhythm. He pulls you along with him, twirling you more slowly. When you twist into his grasp, he doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms, pressing you against him.
As his arms come to wrap around your shoulders, you can’t help but press back into him.
Raven winks at you and you grin back at him, shooing him and his teasing away.
It’s easy to fall into this. Easy to fall into the sway of Jimin’s body and the safety that comes with being pressed so close against him. You fit perfectly into his body, every one of your curve the antithesis to his. Like two puzzle pieces.
You let your hand drop down to his thigh, gripping it for stability as you sway your hips against his. The muscle tenses beneath your touch and you take that as an opportunity to roll your ass against his crotch.
He meets your movements, grinding back up into you, his hand dropping to your waist where he grips you tightly and guides your movements even further back into him.  
"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispers in your ear.
His body pressed against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. The nights the two of you have spent in your kitchen, sliding around in socks and grooving to your favorite music, springing each other around your shared house — all of those hours, all of those years make it so when he moves against you he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly what you want him to do. You move in tandem, as if you are sharing a brain, a story, a body.
You tilt your head up to him, nuzzling into his neck.
“Why not?”
“I-I can’t mess up.” He says, but he continues to sway at your back.
“You’re not messing up. I like this.”
As you reach behind you, letting your hand trail up beneath his shirt, you can feel him press into your touch. Chasing it, searching it out. But as your hand trails back down, fingernails scraping delicately against the skin, he seems to snap out of it and steps back from you, even as he keeps his hands on your hips.
You turn, trying to pull him back to you, but you see his brow is furrowed.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“Just fine!” he says, just a little to cheerfully. “I-I just think I’m done with dancing for tonight.”
Even as he says it he pulls you closer to his chest.
“I’m going to get some drinks, do you want something?”
“You don’t want to dance with me?”
“I— uh— it’s not that.” He shakes his head.
“Please, come on, it’ll be fun,” you groan, tugging on his arm. But he stands firm and stiff. “Aren’t you having fun?”
“I don’t want to dance tonight. Just go on ahead.”
You look your friend up and down. Jimin was never one to turn down an opportunity to dance.
“Okay,” you say, painting a smile on your features even as your heart aches slightly at his rejection. “I just want you to have fun. Do you want me to come with?”
“No--it’s okay. I’ll be back, alright?”
“Alright?”
You watch as he disappears back into the mass of people. You stand still, wondering What the hell just happened?
However, your thoughts are quickly interrupted as Raven reaches out to you, pulling you to him in a graceful spin.
“Distract yourself, darling,” he says with a chuckle. “He’ll come around, don’t you worry.”
Before you have a chance to process his words, Raven spins you out again in the crowd.
You stumble just a little bit, until hands come to rest on the dip of your hips, lingering there just enough to stabilize you. However, they quickly release you as soon as you are standing tall again.
“Oh, ah, thank you,” you half-yell as you turn around, attempting to raise your voice above the noise.
The man who stands behind you is undeniably gorgeous. Tall, with a dark lock of hair hanging into your forehead and the most beautiful smile.
“No worries, it happens all the time,” he grins at you. “What’s your name.”
You yell back at him, but when he can’t hear you, you step closer to him, pressing against his chest to speak your name into his ear. His hand comes down on your waist as you do, lightly.
“My name’s Hoseok. You can call me Hobi though. Care to dance?”
You grin up at him and nod. You’ve never been one to turn down a dance partner.
He takes your hand, quick to find the rhythm of the music.
Hoseok is a natural. As each song progresses, his dances become more intricate. He’s happy to lead you through them and you can’t help but laugh as he spins you around the floor while others are swaying and grinding. You’ve never had this much fun with a stranger, but as he moves against you, you can’t help but think of the way Jimin felt pressed so close to you earlier in the night. It’s just not quite the same.
It’s easy to get lost in him, in his beaming smile and witty jokes that he bends down to whisper in your ear. He compliments you freely, and you do the same in return.
As the night continues you and Hoseok dance closer and closer until he’s pressed deliciously up against your back. You find yourself lost in the sensation of being embraced by someone, even if it isn’t the person you’d want to be there.
“I hope I’m not being too forward, but do you wanna come home with me?” The man leans down, the husk of his voice brushing deliciously against your ear.
“I can’t.” You say, turning back towards him. “But thank you.”
“No problem,” he says, leaning down to chastely kiss your cheek. “Can I ask you a question before you go?”
You nod.
“Does your refusal have anything to do with the man at the bar who hasn’t taken his eyes off of us since we started dancing?”
“What?”
He nods over your shoulder, back towards the bar. Through the crowd, you can barely see your friends, but as you reach up on your tippy toes you see them all gathered around, laughing and talking. And then at the edge of them is Jimin. He stands tall and proud and with an unusually grim expression on his face. But when he sees you looking at him, he quickly averts his gaze to his drink, which he is continually swirling in his hand.
“You’re going home with him, aren’t you?”
“Well, duh, he’s my roommate, I—”
“You should go for it,” he interrupts you.
“Go for it?”
“Go for it.”
“There’s nothing there,” you state, matter of factly. “We’re just really good friends!” You’re not sure why you tell him this, but there’s something soft in his eyes that spurs you on.
“Good friends don’t eye fuck each other all night.”
“We weren’t—”
“No need to explain it to me.” He holds up his hands. “But it seems like you have some explaining to do to him. Or at least to yourself.”
You sputter. “Psh! What! No! I’m just tired, Hobi, and if I had the energy I would be fucking you right here, right now, on the dance floor. It has nothing to do with Jimin. Nothing at all!” You realize you’ve got your finger poking into his chest and you quickly draw it back. “Sorry.”
“Okay…”
“Well.” You put your hands on your hips, wiping the frustrated look off of your face. “I should go, I guess. It was nice dancing with you, partner. I’ll be the first to admit you got great hips.”
He’s laughing, and you’re not sure if it’s at you or with you, but when you extend you hand for a friendly fistbump, he meets it with all the enthusiasm in the world, pulls you into a hug, and is off on his merry way, off to find a new dancing partner.
Left alone in the middle of the floor, you kind of just stand there, mulling over what the stranger had said to you. Soon though, you feel a hand on your shoulder and you spin around to see a blank faced Jimin.
“I, uh, just wanted to check in on you.”
“I’m all good!” you chirp, perhaps too cheerfully. As you begin to make your way back to the bar, his hand comes to rest on your lower back and you shiver at the touch.
“So you’re not going home with him?” He nods back in the direction of the disappearing stranger.
“Why would I?”
“Well, you wore your slut dress, so I figured he was a contender.” He doesn’t meet your eye.
“I didn’t want to fuck him.” You stop, and turn to him.
He laughs, almost nervously. “Well I guess that’s an important factor.”
“Yeah, just a minor detail,” you shoot back, grinning.
“I guess it’s all for the best. Didn’t like the looks of him much anyways.
You giggle. “What? Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can’t be jealous.”
“Can’t be? Or aren’t?”
Jimin blinks back at you, an expression of utter surprise on his face. You know his answer in that moment, and yet — there is a kind of doubt that sits in you. That until he says it, it just won’t be real.
And still, he avoids your question.
“I think I’m gonna head home, do you wanna come with or head back with Tae and Raven?”
“I’ll come back with you, there’s nothing left here for me.”
“Great,” he says, a small smile on his lips. “Let’s go.”
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“My heat is still out,” you call.
You’re standing at the door to his room in nothing but your pajama shirt. When you’d gotten home Jimin was quick to wish you goodnight and sweet dreams and book it up to his bedroom. You had gone to your own room and changed into sleep clothes, only to climb into bed and realize just how fucking freezing your blankets still were.
But as you stand outside his bedroom, when you press down on the handle, the door is unusually locked. He never locks the door, you think.
“Jimin!”
You push down on the handle, jiggling it obnoxiously as you hope your best friend can hear you from the other side, and isn’t just ignoring you. As you rattle the metal handle, something seems to come loose within the door and all of a sudden the door is swinging open inwards and there’s Jimin, leaning against the backboard of his bed, legs spread, and--
“Oh no—”
Even as your hands flash up to cover your eyes, you know it’s too late.
You’ve already seen it.
It’s imprinted on your brain. The image of Jimin with his head thrown back, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock hastily pulled out of his jeans. He must have been in such a rush he didn’t even bother to pull his pants down. Instead, the leather pants are simply tugged down just enough from him to slip his cock out of them.
“What the fuck!” he yelps.
“Did I—interrupt?” You can’t help but burst into giggles, even as you keep your hands firmly clamped to your face.
“Yes! Yes, you did!” he says, scrambling for the sheet. He pulls it over himself and then does up his pants again.
“If it makes you feel any better you have a nice looking dick!” you squeak out from behind your hands.
He wipes a hand wearily over his face.
“You really wanna have a conversation about my dick right now?”
“See a dick, converse about a dick, am I right?” you laugh nervously.
“No, no, you’re not. It usually goes like ‘see a dick, forget the fact that you ever looked at a dick.’”
“You got a point there.”
The room falls into silence for a moment before Jimin coughs and speaks.
“You can take your hands away now.”
Ever-so-slowly you release your hands from your face, looking over at Jimin who looks — not upset, not embarrassed, not angry — but intrigued. He’s looking at you with a mix of curiosity — and something else. Something you can’t quite put a finger on.
“Welp, I better be going—”
“I thought you said your heat is still out.”
You turn back around slowly.
“...It is. But I can go. I don’t want to make you feel… uncomfortable.”
“You’ve never made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know if you could.”
“I’ve definitely made you feel uncomfortable before. Like that one time I put peanut butter on your special pickles and tried to fry them—”
“Okay, okay, maybe in like, a superficial way. But not in a deep way.” He pauses. “You’re my best friend for a reason.”
You’re still standing in the doorway, and as he looks you over — gaging your reaction, reading your emotions, trying to understand what’s going on in that far-off mind of yours — he realizes you’ve got your arms wrapped around your torso, protecting yourself from the biting draft that drifts down the hallway.
“Come ‘ere. You’re sleeping here tonight.” He says it without hesitation.
You look at him, and then back down the darkened hallway, and then back at him, the warm glow of his bedside lamp painting his features gold. His cheeks are still slightly flushed, his chest peeks out of his loose button down. And perhaps it’s that image that draws you to him — or, what you tell yourself in that moment, the inviting warmth of the layers of blankets on his bed and the radiator that sits close by.
You climb into bed, quickly tucking yourself into the blankets and rolling onto your side, away from him. However, you can feel his hands reaching out towards you, pulling the blankets closer to you, tucking you in further to their addicting warmth.
“I’m uh, gonna read for a little bit, is that okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, course,” you say, your voice slightly muffled by the pillow you’ve stolen and burry your face into.
He rifles through the nightstand. Behind you, he shifts, getting a bit more comfortable and you can hear the comforting sound of pages turning as he begins to read.
Even as you close your eyes, sleep evades you. As much as you try to banish it from your mind, it seems as if the image of his thick cock is burned into your retina, the vein on the underside of it swollen and pronounced. All you can see in your mind’s eye is Jimin, lost in his own pleasure. His face scrunched, eyes squeezed shut. What would it be like to see what he saw, whatever it was that had him gripping his cock so tight the knuckles began to turn white?
“So do you usually masterbate without porn?”
It slips out before you know what you’re saying.
He coughs behind you, and it sounds like he’s choking.
“What?!”
Well, you think. Now that it’s out there I might as well just go for it. You flip over onto your otherside, face half hidden by the blanket.
“When I walked in on you — you were just… lost in thought. No video or audio or,” you nod at the book he’s holding. “Rip off of Half a Hundred Colors of Dark-White.”
He gapes at you.
“Why are you so obsessed with my masterbatory habits, hm?”
“I-I’m not! I’m just curious, like one would be when they accidentally catch their best friend masterbating. We all, you know, do it. I, myself, have a very lovely connection of multi-colored vibrators — all sizes and shapes and, uh, textures? And vibrations and settings and speeds and—”
“So you wanna talk about it then?” He’s still sitting above, looking down on you. He cocks an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “You didn’t want to talk about last night but you want to talk about how I get myself off?”
It’s your turn to gape.
“Uh, what? Last night, psh no!”
He readjusts his position so he’s facing you now, one leg bent and propped up, the other one folded beneath it. You do your best to keep your gaze focused on his face, and not on the prominent bulge that is now in your direct line of vision.
“So you weren’t grinding on my cock last night — or god forbid tonight at the club — But you wanna know about my masterbatory habits?”
You swallow and despite the chill air of the bedroom, you sit up, letting the blankets fall around your waist.
“I suppose that is what I’m asking.”
Heart pounding in your chest, you lick your lips. You know what you’re asking. You know where you’re pushing things. Everything about this next step terrifies you. And yet, it’s all you’ve been thinking about for the past 24 hours. Hell, the past several years.
You’d be lying if you said that last night’s dream was the tamest of the ones Jimin starred in. He haunted you. His image, his being, were everywhere you turned. Even when you were with other partners or one night stands, all you could do was compare them to Jimin. Were they as softly hilarious as him? Did they know your every thought, your every desire, like he did? Could they anticipate your mood before you even could? Did they fill you with that feeling of belonging and safety like he did? No. None of them ever did. You didn’t just crave Jimin’s attention, you craved his touch.
“You know, most friends talk about this kind of shit.”
“Do they?”
“Yes. They talk about sex. They talk about getting off. They talk about their interests and turn-offs and fantasies and--”
“And you wanna talk about this?” His hand lands on yours. You look up at him as he squeezes your fingers within his warm grasp.
“I-I guess I do. Sometimes it bothers me that we don’t talk about it.”
“Then let’s talk about it,” he says, a little bit more confidence slipping into his voice. He picks your hand up, weaving his fingers in between yours. The way he looks at them reminds you of someone looking at a beautiful vista or an undiscovered creature for the first time. There is wonder -- and also confusion -- in him. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I never wanted to… turn our friendship into something that you didn’t want. Something that made you uncomfortable.”
“And I didn’t want to push.”
“Push me? Into what?”
You glance down at your hands. “I don’t know, something that you were disgusted by.”
“I could never be disgusted by you. It’s the opposite, actually.”
“Then why do you keep pushing me away? When I want to talk about things? When I want to be close to you?”
Jimin is silent for a moment.
“Because I’m never sure if this is just fun to you,” he says softly. “What if something happens and you realize you don’t want it in the way you thought you did?”
“And what if something happens and it’s exactly what I want?” One hand still resting in his grasp, you reach out with the free one to clutch onto his shirt. Not wanting to push too far, you make do with tangling your fingers in the silky fabric, twisting it around yourself until you are lost in it.
You don’t see it coming. His hand reaching up to yours, pressing your hand to his chest. Slowly, he slides your intertwined hands up until he can press your palm to his chest. Beneath the fabric you can hear the gentle thud of his heart beating, quicker than usual. And there, he just holds it. Mulling. Contemplating.
“It feels like I’ve been distracted…” He licks his lips as he considers his next several words. “...for weeks. Probably longer. I’ve been trying to hold everything in because it’s not supposed to be there. But the temptation to just give in… To just lean into the things that I want… It’s always there. It doesn’t go away. But--sometimes I can distract myself from it.”
“What is it that you want?”
His gaze flickers back up from your lips. The look in his eyes is searing. Burning. There’s desire there — one that’s all consuming — but something else too. He refuses to look away from you, instead roving over your whole face as if he’s trying to memorize it. As if when he speaks next he might forget you entirely. And that’s when you realize. It’s not confusion dancing in his eyes. It’s loss. He thinks he’s going to lose you.
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t have it.”
“You can.”  
“I can’t.” He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to hold back. “There— there are lines that once you cross you can never go back to.”
“Jimin, I want you.”
The words hang in the stilled silence of the room like lead, suspended and out of place. But you push on, and as you do, his grip tightens around your hands and he’s pulling you forward until you’re flush against his chest.
“And it’s not because of your monster cock -- although that’s like a really really great benefit that I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting--” Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Anyways, I want you for you. I think I’ve wanted you since I met you, but--” You glance down. “I’ve been too scared to admit it. Too scared or too dumb.”
Jimin raises your chin so that you are eye to eye. He’s so close.
“I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you.” He lets his hands drop to your hips, maneuvering you so that you’re fully straddling his waist as he sits up against the headboard. “I wanted you in my life, in whatever way that would be. I wanted you as my best friend and my inspiration and my home -- and to have you like that? I would never want to fuck it up.”
“Then don’t.”
“Simple as that,” he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your hips. He tightens his grip and you instinctively wrap your hands around his neck, tugging him closer to you.
“Simple as that,” you repeat.
The words hang in the air for a moment, filling the space of the bedroom. And then their sound is gone, leaving the air vacant of sound. The weight of what you’ve both just said crashes down upon you.
Simple as that.
“I want to kiss you,” Jimin whispers. “Can I kiss you?”
“Always,” you barely manage to mumble before your lips are crashing together. They begin clumsily, desperate. Teeth knocking together as you both scramble frantically for connection. For the missed years. For the gazes thrown across the hallway, quick and longing.
And then you find your groove. Just like on the dance floor, there is an unspoken communication to the way that you move together. Chasing and pursuing. Biting and pressing. You gasp as Jimin slips his tongue between your lips, swiping against the roof of your mouth.
It feels like forever and no time at all that you’re wrapped up in his arms, his hands climbing the height of your back as he pulls you as close as he possibly can.
As the kiss slips into gentleness, you feel him between your legs. He’s impossibly hard. You don’t know if it’s thought or basic instinct that leads you to press your hips forward, sliding ever so slightly along his length. You know you’ve done the right thing when he groans into your mouth. You do it again, this time swiveling against him. His hands snake down to your hips, fingers digging into the fleshy bits of your sides.
“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” he groans against your lips.
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He kisses you fiercely and you let your hands wander beneath the silk of his shirt, tracing the planes of his skin until you’ve had enough and need more. You attempt to tug the fabric up, but he seems lost in your lips.
“Off, please,” you say when you can’t get it over his shoulders.
He grins at you and shucks it off in one go, tossing it onto the floor.
You lean back just enough to admire him like this, the planes of his chest glowing dimly in the light of the lamp.
“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur in awe.
He captures your lips again, his movements soft and dutiful. And then with all the gentleness in the world, he turns the both of you, cradling the nape of your neck as he lowers you down onto the pillows.
“I never thought I could have you like this.”
“Me neither. I-I don’t know if I can go back.”
“Don’t worry, darling. I already know I don’t want to go back.”  
You smile up at him, a feeling of warmth and love spreading through your chest. As he sits back, looking down on you, you tug your shirt over your head, tossing it to join his discarded top on the floor.
His eyes rove over your naked form, bare of everything except for the grannie panties you slipped on before knocking on his door. At the beginning of the night you wanted nothing but to make sure everything was thoroughly covered. Now you wish you had gone for something a bit more stylish.
Even as you think this, looking at him you know he doesn’t give a flying fuck what you’re wearing.
He leans down again, kissing you. He lets his weight rest just enough on you as he settles between your legs and you arch up at the dull contact.
As he bites down on your lip, you push up into him, searching for more.
“Can I touch you?” he asks.
“Please,” you gasp.
His hand comes down on your thigh, pushing you open just enough. And then, as he comes back to kiss you, he slips his hand down your stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of your panties.
You can’t help as your hips buck up as he slips a finger down your folds. You’re already soaking, arousal quickly coating his finger.
“Shh, shh,” he whispers against your lips, gaze searching yours. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
As the final word slips out of his mouth, he inserts the first finger into your tight entrance and you yelp in pleasure, the feeling of him filling you more sensation than you could imagine. Ever so slowly, he begins to pump it in and out before adding a second finger.
“I want to get you ready for me,” he murmurs. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want it,” you gasp as he presses against your g spot. “Please, I need it, please, Jimin, fuck me.”
“Patience, baby. I will in due time. But first I need you a little more stretched out.”  
When he adds a third finger, the pressure building deliciously in your abdomen, there’s nothing you can do to hold back the way your body jerks or the whine that slips through your lips.
“God, I never even imagined you would sound this desperate, this beautiful.”
As he continues to press against the soft spongy spot inside you, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep control but quickly losing it.
“You thought about this?”
“Of course I thought about it.”
“Tell me what you thought about,” you pant, his fingers still working rhythmically in and out of you.
“The list is endless,” he murmurs. “I think about what it would feel like to fuck you. What it would sound like to have you call my name. What it would be like to have you cum again and again around my cock, and then walk out of here, with it dripping down your leg so that anyone who sees will know it too. To have you so fucked out and screaming that everyone in a ten mile radius knows exactly who is fucking you so well, who you belong to.”
“Ah!” you cry as your orgasm begins to build. “Jimin! I’m so close, I--”
And just like that, his fingers are gone from your clenching walls and you are left with a feeling of absolute emptiness drifting through you. He pulls back with a smirk.
“Wha--”
“When you come, I want it to be around my cock.”
Your gaze flickers down to his crotch, where his dick is straining against the tight confines of the leather. “That just can’t be comfortable,” you say, your voice shaking even as you unapologetically eye his obvious arousal. “Please take them off. I’ll make you feel good.”
“You can?”
“I want to,” you explain. “I want to help.” You look up at him again and see that his gaze is dark with desire. “Can I?”
Slowly, he nods, and you reach out towards him, for the buttons to his jeans. As your fingers land on the cold metal of the button, his come down atop yours, popping the button open expertly.
As you slowly slide the zipper down, you swallow.
Everything about this feels right. There’s the sensation of a fire burning in your chest. It’s not just wanting his body. It’s chasing the feeling of electricity sparking through you every time he touches you. Chasing the want of his hands, his gaze, his everything focused on you. Something twinges in your heart. Even as you want these things, you know it’s not fair to ask them of him, to expect them of him.
He stands to slip the rest of his pants off and you realize he’s not even wearing underwear. You gulp as you watch him strip, his beautiful body soon revealed in the dim lighting. His cock stands at full attention, deliciously hard and poking against his belly.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.
“I want it more than anything.”
The bed dips underneath his weight as he climbs towards where you lay. He lowers himself above you, expertly balancing his weight so that it doesn’t crush you. With one hand, he reaches down to palm his hard cock, the tip red and angry with need. With his knee, he pushes your legs wide open, making room for himself and spreading you out before him. At a devastatingly slow speed, he lines himself up with your aching center.
“So wet for me, princess. You’ve always been beautiful to me, but spread out like this, just waiting for my cock? You’re a dream.”
“Please,” you gasp.
“Please what?”
As he comes to nestle his cock in between your dripping folds, you whimper with need.
All you can feel is his cock, his touch against your skin, the way his presence surrounds you and envelopes you.
“Please,” you whisper. “I need you, Jimin.”
He chuckles.
“You’re so desperate, baby. Tell me what you want.”
“Want you to fuck me.”
“My baby wants me to fuck her?” He slides slowly in and your back arches devilishly at the sensation of his fat cock stretching you open for him. He watches your facial expression carefully, not wanting to hurt you or push you too far too fast.
When he sees you relax just a little, he pushes in even further until he’s nestled inside you to the hilt. Once he knows you’re comfortable, he lets himself slip into the pleasure of you wrapped all around him. His eyes flutter closed, and he nestles his nose into the crook of your neck.
Gathering himself, he takes a deep breath, pushing up off of you so that he can better look down at you, your hair splayed on the pillow, cheeks warm with arousal, eyes wide in pleasure.
“God, you’re perfect for my cock. Like you were made to fit me.”
“Mmf, so big,” you groan as he shifts inside you. “Never felt this full before.”
As he begins to move, you gasp, hands coming up to cling at his back. The drag of his cock against the walls of your cunt is divine and you can’t help as your nails dig into his skin, raking down the planes of his back.
His eyes never leave your face, tracing your pleasure every time it flashes across your features.
“When I imagined this,” he pants, “I never even thought it could feel this good.”
He withdraws at a maddeningly slow pace, until just the tip of his cock rests inside your warmth.
“Please Jimin,” you gasp. “I need more.”
He smirks down at you. “More?” He gives a shallow thrust.
“More,” you groan, trying to push your hips down on him, anything to take him further into you. However, his hand quickly comes down on your hips, stopping all movement.
Leaning down to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, you gasp into his mouth as he thrusts into you with a great force. You cry his name as he bites down on your lower lip, the pace he sets brutal and exactly what you need. Each thrust rolls through your entire body, setting your nerves alight. When he gives a particularly hard thrust, your spine arches, hands slipping away from his back and coming to wrap around his wrists.
When he growls, you clench at the sound.
Your eyes flicker open in time to see his mouth gape and he groans when you do it again.
He answers your tightness with another roll of his hips, this time changing the angle just enough that it hits your g spot directly. You spasm around his cock, crying out as he continues to fuck you.
“You’ve ruined me,” Jimin gasps. “Nothing else, no one else is going to be like this. I wanna fuck this cunt until you can’t think of anything else.”
You start to respond, to tell him how much you want that, but his hand comes down on your clit, rubbing just gently enough that you’re yelping in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation.
“I’m really gonna fuck you now, baby. I want you to touch yourself until you can’t anymore, okay?”
You nod, reaching down to your clit where your fingers brush against one another. You look down to see his cock rutting in and out of you, coated in your juices. As he withdraws his hand, he begins to pick up his speed.
The pace he sets reaches deep into your body, setting every nerve alight. You cling to him, begging him to fuck you harder. His cock seems to reach every single sensitive spot within you as rock your hips back up to his, meeting his every movement. He lets you now, lost in the feeling of your bodies moving together, seeking the same pleasure together.
When his pace begins to stutter, thrusts becoming long and rough, you know he’s close to his end.
“Baby, I’m going to come,” he groans. He begins to sit back up and withdraw, but you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him towards you, the other one coming to press on the dip of his hips.
“Come inside, Jimin.”
“But--”
“I’m safe. I want to feel you come inside me. Wanna come with you.”
He groans at your words and lowers himself to you, letting his hips grind against yours in a tide of sensation. Each movement pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm until three words are tumbling from his lips and you are tipping over the edge.
He kisses you as you both ride out your orgasm, waves of pleasure washing through your body and into his as if you are connected on more than just a physical level. His lips are soft against yours, guiding you through your orgasm. Everything is breathless and wildly full, all at once.
Pulling back as his cock twitches within you, he peppers your neck with kisses, his plush lips pressing softly against the delicate skin beneath your ear.
“I love you, baby,” he murmurs against your skin.
“I love you too,” you hum, eyes fluttering blissfully closed as you tangle a hand in his hair, pressing him closer to you.
That’s how you fall asleep. Tangled up in each other, bodies meshed together until there’s no way to tell which way is up.
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You wake up wrapped in warmth. The kind of warmth that radiates from your heart, shining on outwards and into the room around you. And, as your eyes blink open, you notice it also radiates from the absolute furnace that clings to your back.
“Mmm,” the furnace grumbles, rubbing his nose against the soft nape of your neck. You can feel him press his lips against the top of your spine, his breath fanning delicately against your skin. “G’morning.”
“Morning.” You speak softly, as if any noise will break the memory of last night, his whispered affections against your skin as you drifted off to sleep still hanging in the air. Too loud and you will shatter and destroy the memory. The words of his confession still carved into your skin, your mixed pleasures riddled through your body, the song of his joy and laughter emblazoned into the room -- all of that, you think, will disappear if you move too quickly or speak too loudly.
However, that notion is quickly banished when Jimin rolls over and groans dramatically, spreading his limbs out until he starfishes over the entire bed -- including you. With a little grunt, he flips over on his belly, shimmying over to you. Pulling the blankets down around you, you gasp as the cool air hits your skin.
He’s quick to rectify this as he rolls onto you, resting his head on your stomach, blowing a raspberry into your skin. You screech in laughter and as the sensation rushes through you, tickling you.
It takes a minute or two before you calm down, looking lovingly down at the man who holds your heart and running a hand through his hair, brushing it off of his forehead.
“I love you, you know that?” he mumbles into your belly.
“Do you?” you giggle, doubt still riddled in your mind.
His eyes shoot up to yours.
“Of course I do. Is there any question about it?” You look down on him, worry in your gaze. “Oh, baby.” He’s quick to prop himself up on his hands, but still stays sprawled out atop you, his weight heavy and comforting. “I’ve loved you since I first saw you--” You open your mouth to tell him there’s no such thing as love at first sight, but his hand comes up quickly and covers your mouth, effectively shushing you. “--at least I knew I was going to love you the first time I saw you. I knew I was going to fall madly and deeply in love with all of your quirks and strange obsessions and deep passions and maddenly horrible humor. And I knew I loved you a year in, and every day after that.”
You look down on him, tears welling up in your eyes at his sincerity.
“Come ‘ere,” you say, pulling him up towards you. He crawls up your chest, playfully nipping at your bare breasts before settling against you. He kisses you. Lets you sink into the sensation. And then he pulls back and says,
“Aren’t you going to tell me you love me too?”
You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough of that dorky smile.
But you do know the tears threatening to spill over are rising from the deep, unnamable affection that rolls through your chest, finally released from silence. You want to call it love, and that is what you will call it, but there’s also something that goes so much deeper than the word itself. Something you know you will spend your whole life trying to explain to him.
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read more: masterlist 
Taglist: @taestannie @thatlongspringnight @spicykoreantatertots​ @usuallynervoussheep​ @hesperantha​ @myimaginationsrunningwild​@lucedelsole97​ @heichooou​ @jiminskth​
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willow-lark · 2 years ago
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Dude ong i just read your birthdaygate ficlet and i just—AJSJDKFNCKDLDLEKEFKFV
If you would be willing to share whatever outline you have in your head, you would, like, have my undying loyalty. Bc OMG. I—I freakin’ LOVE what you have written so far j can’t. And not being anle to write the whole long fic is such a mood—there are. So many outlines for fics in my google docs. That i simply cannot write.
So like. I love and adore outlines/concepts/plans for fics-that-could’ve-been, they are my JAM, and i would love to read yours.
Thank you for sharing this ficlet with us!
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omg i am HONORED that ppl are interested in my fic idea?? you're all so kind omg y'all this means so much to me i am hugging all of you so hard rn. 🥺💖🫂 also i'm gonna put some of this under a readmore cause it's kind of long. also i put this at the end of my ficlet but idk how much of this i will actually write so everybody has my blanket permission to add onto/do anything w this that they want :))
ok! so! in my head birthdaygate goes something like this:
of course, everyone forgets will's birthday in 1986. will says nothing. this continues when the cali and russia gangs get to hawkins. will is just kind of there. he helps out at the crisis center at hawkins high, visits el at the cabin, but every time he walks into a room people's eyes glaze over him kind of like he's not there. though both he and jonathan are staying at the wheelers, mrs w starts forgetting a place for him. jonathan forgets to get will up and leaves without him in the mornings. mike doesn't speak to him. and, constantly, there's a voice in will's head (vecna) telling him Come home. They don't want you.
and... will listens. he intends to go to the upside-down and fight vecna on his own, while going through an unhealthy amount of self-deprecation and self-hatred (à la my recent series). into the upside down he goes, but it's a futile hunt, and he ends up trapped there, tormented and hunted at every turn.
meanwhile, everyone else's minds just kind of fuzz over when it comes to will. when it comes to things that involve him in their memories, he's either erased or the memory is rewritten with some other explanation. for example: why the party was out in the woods when they met el. why jonathan was taking pictures of the steve's backyard. the entirety of s2. why the UD is stuck on nov 6, 1983. you get the gist. the others spend the next two and a half years struggling against vecna, and meanwhile will languishes in the upside-down.
that is, until stoncy embark on some sort of reconnaissance mission (this is where my ficlet comes in) and run into him in the upside down. on will's end, it becomes apparent very quickly they have no idea who he is, and on their end they r adamantly NOT going to leave someone in the UD to die. so, they take him out with them and call a meeting at the cabin.
of course, mike does not trust this kid (what if he's a spy??) very much like lucas with el in s1. lucas somewhat agrees with him, but acknowledges that it turned out well when he gave el a chance, so he's ready to do that here, and besides he'll do anything to help get max out of her coma. the others have more of lucas's mindset. plus, will can give them intel about the UD that they don't have.
meanwhile will is struggling. there's the angst-fest of him being surrounded by all the people he loves and none of them know and they're all kind of wary of him and he can't say anything, plus he's trying not to give away to anyone that he actually knows things about them and about all the upside-down ish that's happened in previous years. this does make him act kind of sus at times.
mike is determined to not trust him, but will literally gives him déjà vu every other second. at one point they r in mike's room for some reason and he has The Painting up on the wall and will does a double-take and mike's like. isn't it awesome??? my (ex)girlfriend had it commissioned for me but i still keep it up bc it's of all my friends plus i think the person that painted it is THE best artist in the world. will is like. oh. who painted it. and mike's brain like. flatlines and he changes the subject (You're the heart, a voice whispers to him, one that he can't quite place).
there are also similar scenes with the byers fam and the rest of the party. there's this one scene in s1e1 the morning after will goes missing where joyce comes out and like. says hi to jonathan who's cooking breakfast and then goes to ruffle will's hair but he's not there and the same thing happens but will IS there this time and joyce's brain short-circuits a little bit
and there's one scene where they give will a walkman to guard against being vecnaed and ask what his favorite song is and he's like "should i stay or should i go" bc DUH and jonathan's like "excellent taste" and will just says "thanks, i got it from my older brother."  all aboard the angst train choo fuckin choo!!
anyways thanks to will's intel the whole squad suits up to head into the upside down. will maps it out for them (vecna's got a vine hub thing in the UD similar to s2 which is his new base of operations since he moved out of creel house). and thus we have my sword mike + bow and arrows lucas + nail bat dustin + gun will agenda. el is off with hop and nancy and whoever heading in to fight vecna or whatever. so now we have the core four og party in their little pod to complete their mission. they r armed with the weapons above but also like. molotov cocktails n lighters n shit too. but they r surrounded by a shit ton of demodogs about to eat them and d'art isn't here this time for dustin to take advantage of his bond with. OHHH SHITTT what r they gonna do???? dustin wants to hunker down and stay on the defense (Cast protection!). lucas wants to light them up (Fireball him!) and mike (still slightly distrusting, waiting for will to prove himself), demands that (since will's the one who spent two and a half years here) he lead the party in what to do (Will, your action!). and will decides that they need to fireball these mother fuckers. this time, it's like they each rolled a nat 20 and the demodogs are decimated.
now the party moves on to provide backup for the el v. vecna showdown. vecna hones in on will. Come home again, William? I knew you would. but el and will have this absolutely epic banging team-up and take him DOWN. vecna dies. el, exhausted, staggers back. will goes unconscious and falls to the ground. all of the memories that vecna was hoarding about will are released now that he's dead, and everyone remembers. (max jolts awake in the hospital.) 
i have this very distinct image of the party getting their memories back. they're standing there injured and exhausted and then it dawns on them and in TOTAL UNISON they're like. WILL.
later, will wakes up in the hospital to his mom petting his hair and his brother crying and the party runs in and it's very s1 reunion except they're all crying way more and apologizing and (only a tiny bit) mad at will for not saying anything. also idk the specific logistics but byler goes endgame ofc. and there we have a VERY happy ending!!! yay!!! 
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