#also note to myself here that if i wind up with zero shit to do on wednesday midday bc of this plan

[elytrafemme]

everyone please clap and cheer for me i did all my homework for tomorrow AND for wednesday's class. my shoulder neck and thumb hurt very bad but i was so so productives :]

[bao3bei4]

ON THE TSHIRT METHOD TO WRITING ESSAYS IN YOUR OWN TIME: 

i have had a couple people mention to me that they would like to write essays too, but they are a little out of practice. so i thought i should gather some scattered thoughts into one place. this is not a systematic guide. i am young and inexperienced and still working out things for myself, but this is my basic process and some things that have helped me, summarized. 

my biggest single piece of advice is to write with your proverbial pussy. you are not writing for a grade so don't act like it. forget rigor, forget academic style, etc. read what you're interested in, and write following up on the threads that you're interested in. don’t sweat the details. just do you.

if you still need more advice..... here’s a long winded post. 

step zero: if you have no clue what you want to say yet 

read. and read a lot.

but be realistic. be kind to yourself. your attention is a precious resource, and it is getting eaten up by shit out of your control all the time. if you’ve had a busy day, you may still have the brain power left to read. i almost never do. lol. so make sure to carve out time on a day off, if possible. otherwise you might end up completely fried, reading the same sentence over and over, and ending up scrolling on your phone LMAO. <-- painful lesson also to this end, if you haven’t picked up a denser book in a while, start with shorter articles, especially ones written more recently. if your attention wanders, try getting a physical book instead. the most important thing is just starting things you’ll actually read.  i’ve seen a lot of people (and been that person) who was like. “oh i’m going to start with THE canonical text in a subject i’m interested in” which makes sense right? but that book is inevitably long and dense and convoluted and boring. you can come back to it later. this shouldn’t feel like a chore! 

genuinely this is the most helpful thing you can do is just. read anything. it may be difficult at first (or always), but it is still the easiest way to engage with the foremost experts from around the world and the entirety of written history on any subject you are interested in. there’s not really a substitute to this. 

note: you may say that people can and do come up with brilliant ideas independently of their access to written works. this is true! but if you are one of them, you should skip this section/post, because you already know what you want to say.  okay that was a little too facetious. let me revise: when i say that, without reading, it will be hard to come up with more complex ideas than what you have now, that isn’t necessarily pejorative. maybe your current ideas and impulses are original and meaningful and complex. if they aren’t, however, you don’t have to resign yourself to it.  your experiences in real life are the most valuable thing you can bring to the table, but it can be very difficult to articulate and contextualize them without community—whether that be irl, or the simple textual company of other writers. you can let other people help you and teach you.  basically, this is a long winded way of saying something extremely simple: reading is not the only way to gain knowledge, or even the best. but it is an extremely consistent and relatively egalitarian way.** **scihub and libgen and sometimes the public library are your friends. (my local library’s book coverage is spotty) who cares about piracy. LMAO. 

you may surprise yourself by how nicely you fall into little spirals. you read one thing. and you are enamored with the way the author approaches their subject. so you end up reading everything else they’ve written, and then you start on the authors they list that inspire them in their interviews. maybe you just read one article that’s a little dry but it cites something else that seems far more interesting. read that next. and so on. 

if you are struggling to read that’s okay. you have options. start a book club (or just get a friend who also wants to read more). if that sounds like too much work, pick a friend to keep updated on all your new facts. you just want to get used to reading something, and telling someone your favorite parts again. skim books. skip the boring parts. drop them entirely and find a more interesting one. no one’s going to quiz you. this is for your own enjoyment. 

also important here: read books that make you want to write. sometimes this is because the methods and/or prose of the author are so exciting, you want to do something just like that. sometimes it’s because the content is so exciting, you want to say something about that too. sometimes they speak so powerfully to your own life, you want to tell people this is me!! i see this!! there are books i just enjoy reading, sure, and i do read them. but you know how, like, a good movie makes you want to tell stories too? good theory should do that too, in my opinion. 

step one: you have some ideas now. 

these ideas don’t have to be set in stone. but you should have an idea now of what you might talk about. personally, for me, i have two interconnected types of essay ideas. 

interventions. this is like [tumblr voice] Why Is Nobody Talking About This. i see some sort of hole. maybe i know how to fill it, maybe i don’t. 

free associations. basically i read one thing, or some analysis of one thing. and then it reminded me of another thing. and i’m like. i want to tease apart their connections, their similarities, and their differences. 

there are more types of ideas, i’m sure. but these are the ones i consistently have. with me, the second kind is more common. very rarely do i find that my thoughts are that original. rather, i’ve found that one of my strengths as a writer is being able to make connections that other people haven’t made, or haven’t made in depth before. IN MY OPINION. 

so i find it quite flexible. maybe i watch a movie, and it reminds me of my own life, because i think two women in the movie could be sad queer freaks. and i’m a sad queer freak. or it could be that i think scum villain could be analyzed through the framework of freudian psychoanalysis. you get the idea. 

at this stage of the process, i don’t have a thesis, necessarily. but i have a couple phrases i’m drawn to. i have a bullet point or two. i have vibes. 

to use an example from this blog, one of my friends hui once mentioned that that one fan image was going around again. we were going ughhh it’s victorian not chinese! together and they said “you should write a meta on it.” i wasn’t sure quite yet what i had to say. but i knew a couple things. 

this is, incidentally, because i had done some research into chinoiserie before, because i had cited the zuroski book for a paper i had to write for an english class some years before on pride and prejudice and its use of descriptions of material culture, an essay that in turn was inspired by my random yet deeply felt conviction that jane austen hated me personally and wanted to kill me.  this is why i encourage reading a lot. i think. 

to work on this stage, make lists. lots of them. i have a .txt file where i keep every essay idea i have. a lot of them are a sentence. or they're lists of books or theorists i think i could make something out of. or they're theses that feel true, but i’m not sure why yet. 

it took me a while to get to this point. just like with writing fic, there was a period when i first started where i was like. i only have one idea. i’m going to write it, and then i’m never going to write again. and then i had just one more idea. after a while. eventually you will find you have so many ideas and the world is full of possibilities. it’s a muscle you have to flex. like reading. and telling people about what you’re reading. 

actually, i feel like there was a step 0.5 here that i completely skipped. 

step zero point five that i skipped: how to generate ideas

my very truly complete “first time writing something semi-academic that was original” (with a loose definition of the word original) was literally just me reading literary criticism of one book, and saying “i think this author’s thoughts can be applied to this other book” and found some textual evidence that supported that the process could be replicated. 

this is like, writing with training wheels on. eventually i got better at it (see aforementioned chinoiserie essay. i hope you agree.). but that was a good place to start for me. it made the proverbial blank page less intimidating, knowing i had a scaffolding. 

i suggest trying this. see how it goes for you. read around until you find some piece of criticism, or just some theory about how something works, that you like. and using your newfound hammer, go look for some nails. 

note: i know this expression is meant to like. be a negative thing. but you do have to start somewhere. it’s okay if it sucks. it’s just for your practice and your enjoyment. 

be cautious of stances. weak writing (in my OPINIONNNN) tries to unilaterally defend or condemn a behavior. what you need to do is treat your writing as a bit. and then you need to run with it. you need to take it farther than what is reasonable. if this bit is truly actually deeply true, then what does it mean about yourself? it’s like using a new set of pronouns as a joke or something. you know what i mean? (that was an example of what i’m trying to communicate here)

what else is key to look out for... look for oppositional pairs or tensions. look for perverse incentives and vicious circles. look for embarrassing ideas. that is, what would be extremely embarrassing if it was true? (or to admit that it was true) you may go—tshirt, here you’re just describing things that are sexy. yes, exactly, that’s the point. you want things that thrill. 

just keep reading and making notes until everything echoes with something else. now you’re ready for step two. 

step two: refine your ideas further. 

let me do this by demonstration. once more extending my earlier example of my chinoiserie essay, i knew that i really wanted to take zuroski’s points and basically... steal them. this is called “citation,” i guess. but i thought the following insights were useful to me: 

british women were invested in chinese material objects 

they incorporated them into their own subjectivity

past a certain point, they no longer “consumed” these signifiers, but these signifers became theirs 

critique of one was able to stand in for critique of the other

and from being on fandom twitter, i already had the following insights: 

people deliberately blurred the lines between china and england when it came to fans and tea

people also liked talking about victorian modesty when it came to china 

so it seemed like victorian england and china had a privileged relationship, in a lot of people’s minds in fandom. 

so it didn’t really seem a stretch to say... how can we look at one history, and apply it to our present? 

it was a bit of the combo of the two: i saw something i didn’t see people were talking about, and it reminded me of something else i’d read before. 

something that helps me a lot is tweeting about my essay ideas. if you have me on my private account, you already know this. it forces me to explain myself to someone who doesn’t know what i’m talking about in a very succinct way. oftentimes, i tweet something out while i’m brainstorming, and then i steal the phrasing back into my essay. see? tweets can be writing too. 

this is microdosing on step zero’s “read something and practice telling a friend about it.” now you’re writing something and telling a friend about it. 

step three: okay now you can like. open a google doc 

make an outline. i know i know i know. i’m sorry. you can start just barfing thoughts if you want, but eventually everything that was on the top of your head will be out. and now you can start thinking about structure. the reason the outline is important is because it makes clear the logical progression from one idea to the next. 

i know i usually bounce around in my writing (a tendency which has been magnified here because this is so casual LMAO), but i always want to make sure that my points are substantiated. if we want to talk about how a causes b, we should prove a, we should prove the causal link, and only then can we infer b, for instance. it doesn’t really matter what order that happens in (or even that we set about it that way), but the more complicated your idea is, the longer checklist you need. it’s just a checklist. that’s all. 

as you start writing, you’ll probably need to read some more. you’re going to want to say something you think is true, but you’re going to realize that you haven’t proved it (or you can’t). go look to see if someone else has proved it. 

maybe you’re right. add that evidence in. maybe you’re wrong. now your essay has a new direction. there is a living thing beneath you. actually, on that idea— 

i tend to structure my outlines (if i’m not sure yet what my point is) by pasting a bunch of quotes in a document, and reorganizing them until they make sense, they seem to flow. and then i start explaining why, until i realized i have begun to walk off in a new direction. always embrace that new direction. eventually you will find that you have not been taking twists and turns, but actually you were dizzily walking along a straight path. (unless you have been unfocused and you are trying to say too many things at once. ask a friend to read your essay if you’re not sure which is the case.) 

quotes are the smallest unit of your analysis. work with evidence. or, at least, i do. it makes writing an essay like solving a mystery. the idea of just spontaneously generating something new fills me with terror. rather, i want to autopsy something, trace its steps, and then discover how it came to be dead. this may not be true for you. but it’s true for meeeee and this is my post. 

tl;dr

0. read something and tell someone about it/post it out

0.5. come up with a bit and run with it

1. think "why is no one talking about this" or start free associating

2. come up with weird connections and tell someone about it/post it out

3. collect all of your posts and ideas into a gdoc and organize them.

anyway i like reading posts like this because i’m incredibly nosy. so i tried to write out the sort of thing i like to read from other people. i don’t suggest you actually try to replicate it (if anyone would even want to.) practically basically i just encourage you to try any single part of this that you think was interesting or relatable or helpful. personally, i suggest reading a book and posting your favorite lines from it. if you do this a couple times, i think you will find the seeds of an essay waiting for you in your own posts. 

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober ‘21 Prompt No. 1 — “I need you.”

Category: Original WIP: WASTE Rating: T Timeline: Not too long after Guetry has been implanted with Scotty CW: None Word Count: 1,162 Additional Notes: I love exploring the relationship between these two.

***

Guetry stared through the opening of the mine shaft, flat on his back across austere stone. His eyes were not focused on the night sky painted with diamonds and the rich purple of wines made in his vineyard, as it would have appeared to a bystander. His attention was, instead, zeroed in on the small hole in the visor of his helmet, currently sending the HUD into hysterics and draining him of air with each passing second.

"S…Scotty," he choked.

"You have twenty minutes before asphyxiation," Scotty said. Matter-of-fact, directly in his ear, as always. Even in the face of fatality. "I cannot seal the breach as my connection to your equipment has been severed."

Despite the situation, his cadence did somewhat have a soothing effect.

Guetry closed his eyes and reached up to assess the extent of the damage to the helmet. "What do I do?" he asked. His chest heaved under the breastplate of his armor as he attempted to steady his breath and not waste what little oxygen he could get. "What…what do I do? What button, what switch…?"

"I have no connection to your team." Scotty sputtered violet in the corner of Guetry's eye. "Other than the automatic distress signal that went out the instant your visor sustained damage."

"Shit…shit." Guetry rolled himself onto his side, scrambling for purchase on solid ground. "Twenty m—twenty minutes. Twenty minutes."

"There's been some trauma to your implant as well, as I'm certain you can discern for yourself."

Guetry's frantic gaze darted around the shaft, desperate for an escape or something to close the breach before he blacked out. "Scotty…please stop telling me things that are up��upsetting to me."

"The fall into the mine cracked the back of your helmet open. The damage is permanent."

"What the hell did I just say," Guetry wheezed. He yanked the helmet off his head with shaking hands and threw it farther into the mine.

"Are you in pain?"

"I don't know. I can't…I can't feel most of anything right now." Guetry took a few sharp breaths. "You gotta keep me going until someone gets here, or until I get out of here, whichever comes first."

"I'm not sure I follow."

Guetry tried to drag himself closer to the entrance, but his arms had already begun to fail him. "Scotty, I don't plan on dying today. Keep…keep my brain alive or something. Do literally anything."

"My designation doesn't work in that way. I cannot sustain you when there isn't sufficient oxygen." Scotty paused as Guetry gave up in the center of the opening and collapsed onto his stomach. "I also don't think I made myself clear. I'm unable to access life support."

Guetry went still. "Do something."

"Guetry—"

"I need you. Please."

Scotty once again fell silent. "I will attempt to contact your team again."

With strength he was surprised he had at the moment, Guetry pushed himself onto his back once more. "Hey, if I…" He broke out into a wheezing cough as his lungs strained to sap oxygen out of the air. "If I don't make it, send my sisters…and my dad a message."

"When I am tethered to you, the event of your death will activate a kill switch and I will be permanently deactivated."

Nodding, Guetry swallowed down the terror that shot through his veins like a lightning bolt. He opened the front pouch of his supply kit and withdrew a flare. "Tell my sisters and my dad that I love you."

"You love…them?"

Guetry ripped the packaging of the flare open with his teeth, the edges of his vision turning black. He took a couple of shallow breaths. "Yeah. We can pretend that's what I meant."

He raised the flare and fired it straight through the opening of the mine. A single flash of red light exploded upward, carried a bit by the gaseous wind of the planet's surface before disappearing into the sky.

"Think they saw it?" Guetry asked weakly, hand dropping onto his chest.

Scotty didn't answer.

Guetry's eyes grew heavy. "Don't…don't give up on me. Not now."

"I could say the same."

"Say it, then."

"Don't give up on me, Guetry."

Guetry watched a dark blur move over the mine entrance. The words echoed in his mind repeatedly until he was no longer conscious.

—

He awoke again in a bed, clocking before he even opened his eyes that he was in a med fac. He'd been in enough of them to pinpoint them by smell alone.

Dazia's tired face turned to him from her spot in the chair across the room. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"Oh, shit," Guetry groaned, bringing a ginger touch to his forehead as a headache slammed into him with the force of a meteor.

"Good to see you, too, jackass."

"Did you pull me out of that mine?" Guetry peeked at her through his fingers, avoiding the harsh light.

Dazia nodded. "Yep. Your little stunt sent Tux into a panic spiral so I had to pick up the slack."

"It did not," the nuaclan said from the other side of the room.

Guetry laughed even though it hurt his throat. "The only thing that would send Tux into a panic spiral is if someone took so long to get rid of my body that it implicated her." He turned to look at her with a grin. "Ain't that right, baby girl?"

Tux rolled her eyes, but the smirk stretching across her wide face said enough. "Idiot."

"They had to take Scotty for a bit," Dazia said. "It won't be for much longer. NodeSource fixed your implant—they're just running diagnostics to make sure everything's square."

"Okay. That explains the migraine." Guetry nodded, a hand coming up to his temple on instinct. His fingers knocked into the cable leading out of his port and into a terminal next to his bed, likely operating to take over a fraction of what Scotty maintained. "He deserves a wellness check."

When they were united later, after his doctor and a NodeSource technician made sure everything functioned normally and after Guetry had started a game of solitaire on his bed, he sighed into the empty room, eyes following the cable attaching him to the computer.

"Is everything alright?" Scotty asked.

"Yeah, man." Guetry sniffed. He turned a card over. "Just…hope you don't make a habit out of scaring me."

He detected a hint of hesitation. "I won't."

"…I guess I owe you an apology, too."

"Not for doing your job, you don't."

Guetry cracked a small smile. "I could say the same."

"Then say so."

He glanced through the two-way viewscreen affording him a look out into the hospital corridor while granting him privacy. Doctors, nurses, and patients milled about, some in more of a hurry than others.

"I'll do my best not to worry you too much," he finally said.

"Worry is not within my programming."

"Nah." Guetry's smile widened. "Don't buy it."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while.

[ptergwen]

If you do smut can you do like stark!reader x peter parker (spiderman) are dating 3-4 month and y/n and peter had their very fluff first time then next morning y/n has hickies all over her neck and her thights stomach... and tony/ her dad sees it and is confronting them with it😂 i love your stories 🤤

just saying hi

w/c: 2.5k

warnings: veryyyy suggestive, swearing, some pretty embarrassing moments

a/n: thank you babe! i didn’t write the actual smut but y’all can guess what happened 😭 also this is super long i couldn’t help myself

-

it was everything. it was everything you ever wanted your first time to be and more.

you’d brought up to peter during a make out session one night that you were ready to go farther than you two already have. there was one base you didn’t hit yet. the fourth, the final. you were thinking about it for a while before that, and peter would be lying if he said he didn’t.

your love has always been physical, whether it’s you kissing peter’s cuts after a mission or him tracing hearts on you with his fingers. there’s also the more sexual side of things. that part, you both enjoy just as much, maybe even a little more because you know exactly how to make each other feel good after all the trial and error.

what better way to combine the two than, well, making love?

last night was your sign from the universe, your go ahead to do it. you had the compound to yourselves because your dad had taken all the “big kids” out for the night. you’re both well into college, but he refuses to see you as adults. that meant no peter and no you. you two were a little offended until you realized you could make use of your alone time.

you started off searching for a movie. that turned into you wrestling peter for the remote because you didn’t feel like watching back to the furure yet again. wrestling turned into you on top of him, which turned into you kissing him, which turned into peter throwing the remote somewhere and carrying you up to your room with his lips still on yours.

neither of you had to say it. you were on the same page, same wavelength, two brains in one as peter layed you down and trailed his kisses lower and lower.

peter was so gentle with you, except for when you told him not to be. those were the times he didn’t hold back. he was attentive and sweet and showed you quite a few times how much he loves you. you showed him just the same. yeah, it was really everything.

“morning, baby. you awake yet?” peter hums against the shell of your ear, arms wound comfortably around you. “kinda,” you mumble back with a goofy smile. he presses his lips to your ear and nuzzles his face in the side of your neck. “kinda... how’d you sleep?” you can hear the grin in his voice. his nose nudges your bare skin where a fresh hickey lies and makes you scrunch your own up.

“good, really good. always love sleeping with you.” you’re both aware of the alternate meaning that has now. “funny,” peter lets out a breathy laugh against you and brushes his thumb over your stomach where your shirt got ridden up. you sigh, enjoying his soft touch and reaching behind you to play with his curls. they’re a lot messier than usual from you tugging on them all last night.

peter removes his face from your neck and carefully turns you onto your other side. you’re facing him now, eyes trained on his concerned expression. “hey, just wanna check. how are you feeling? still sore?” a tiny smile stretches your face. he really does care about you and how you feel after everything. you know for a fact most other guys wouldn’t.

“i mean, yeah. you were... it was a lot, but i’ll be fine in a few days i think.” the mention of peter being a lot makes color rush to his face. you laugh quietly at that, cupping one of his cheeks that’s turning pink. “oh. i, um, i didn’t know that. sorry.” he smiles shyly as you smooth your thumb over his warm skin. “don’t be. it wasn’t as bad after i... adjusted a little,” you reassure him, making him lean into your palm.

“i really am sorry, y/n/n. can i make it up to you?” peter checks with you, eyes going up from yours to down your body. he hooks a finger in the waistband of your pajama shorts. “make you feel better?” the way he finishes his question with a bite of his lip is definitely tempting. so is your stomach yelling at you to put some food in it. you’ll have to wait.

“later. right now, you can make me breakfast,” you beam at him and take his hand. peter pushes his palm against yours, letting you lace your fingers together as he puffs some air out of his cheeks. “yeah, that’s gonna go well.” “i’m supervising. it will.” you capture his lips in a kiss, one he instantly reciprocates, free hand resting on your hip. just as it’s heating up, you break it.

“i’m hungry for actual food,” you giggle and roll out of his embrace. “ok, ok, ok. let’s go see what we have,” peter gives in with a chuckle, grabbing the same hand he was just holding and following you down to the kitchen.

he ends up popping some frozen waffles into the toaster, you sitting up on the counter with your phone out while he struggles through the different settings. “should i put it on bake? no, that doesn’t sound right,” he talks to himself with eyes squinted in concentration. “your dad made this thing so... detailed.” it’s an old stark industries toaster, one with options you probably don’t even need.

“yeah because he loves his toast, so maybe don’t break it. he’ll kill you or something,” you half playfully half seriously suggest. peter is one clumsy guy. he tsks at you and crouches down to read the words on the dial. there’s conveniently a setting for waffles, so he hits that one. he’s not sure how he hadn’t noticed it before.

since he’s down there, he takes one of your ankles in both hands and starts to kiss up your leg. it tickles when he gets to your knee, drawing a giggle out of you, but your phone still blocks his face. you’re doing it on purpose. “baby,” peter tries to get your attention in a soft voice. he presses a couple more kisses to your knee. you have to hold your breath so you don’t laugh again.

“baby girllll,” peter drags out, lips moving up your thigh. he nudges your phone with his nose much like a puppy would. “aye, i’m talkin’ to you here,” he says in a fake new york accent. you finally put it down next to you. “i’m listening.” you’re giving him a satisfied smile as he goes back to kissing you.

“just saying hi,” he looks up at you and moves your shorts aside while he kisses further and further to where you want. you scoot closer to him on the counter.

that’s when he stops. not only stops, gasps in horror. “what?” you ask quickly, his eyes fixed on your inner thighs. “i kind of, uh, marked you up. like, a lot.” he runs a finger gently over the bruised skin. you’re suddenly very aware of it now. it doesn’t exactly hurt, just feels bumpy and weird. you peer down at yourself to see the damage, eyes going wide.

“shit... they’re on my neck, too,” you remember, murmuring to him. you’ll have to cover these up before everyone gets home. worry flashes across peter’s face. “oh my god, i didn’t even realize. it- it was dark and you told me-“ “pete, it’s okay. it’s pretty hot,” you stop his rambling, reaching down and putting a hand on his shoulder. he frowns up at you.

“really? are you sure i didn’t go too far? because you can tell me.” you’ve always appreciated how much peter genuienly values your thoughts on things, in the bedroom and in other parts of your relationship. it does lead to a lot of second guessing, though. you squeeze his shoulder and let out a breath. “i’m sure, okay? it’s really not that serious. i’ll just change so no one can see.”

peter winds an arm around one of your legs, body relaxing ever so slightly under your touch. “okay.” he gives your thigh one final kiss, then rests his chin on it. “what about your neck?” “uh...” you hadn’t considered that yet. “makeup? a scarf?” you’ve seen enough tv to know neither of those work, but they’re your only options.

“yup. mr. stark is really gonna kill me now,” peter says under his breath, tensing up all over again. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “what? we’re literally grown adults, we can do whatever we want-“

tony claps loudly as he steps into the kitchen, announcing his return home. peter jumps up from between your legs faster than fast. he moves so he’s next to you, and you hop down from the counter.

“hello, daughter of mine. spider of man,” your dad greets you two, you pulling down your shorts with a plastered on smile. “or would it be man of spider?” he plucks an apple from the bowl on the table as he ponders his question. steve and wanda file into the room next. “second one,” peter replies, grinning a little too much to be normal. tony takes note of that.

wanda comes over to the fridge for a snack, which is close to where you and peter are. “how was last night?” you ask her to take the attention off you two. wanda settles on a yogurt and turns to you. “it was good. we shared a few hotel rooms, had our own party.” she glances over at peter, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “seems like you two had a fun night of your own.”

peter’s mouth drops open. “how did you-“ he forgot she could read his mind and now knows everything that happened. you slap a hand over your forehead. “you couldn’t think about anything else? for, like, a minute?” you whisper yell at him. he uses his eyes to plead with you. “i’m sorry! i was looking at the hickeys-“ he realizes what he’s saying. “crap.”

shooting you a wink, wanda shuts the fridge and goes to join the rest of the team in the living room. lucky for you and peter, steve started lecturing tony about washing his fruit before he eats it. he didn’t hear any of that. there’s still the problem of your visible hickeys that you have zero seconds to hide.

“how the fuck am i supposed to cover these? they’re right in the center, peter!” you panic, your heart starting to race as peter fumbles for a dish towel. that’s the best he could come up with? “no!” you toss it back at him. he throws it on the counter with a pained look. tony and steve make their way over to you.

“oh, hush. a couple of deadly pesticides won’t shake me, stevey boy,” tony insists and takes another big bite of his apple. steve huffs in disapproval and crosses his arms. “you’re a big baby, tony. if you’re not gonna do the right thing, at least buy organic-“ with the world’s longest sigh, tony chucks his apple into the open garbage can.

“there. no more apple discourse.” steve shakes his head at your dad’s behavior. “that was a waste. you could’ve finished it.” “not with your nagging into my literal ear.” steve raises his hands in surrender before making his way out of the kitchen. tony side steps past him and over to you. “enough of that now. let’s have a welcome home hug from my girl.”

you share a look with peter, a look of pure fear that’s in both of your eyes. he’ll definitely notice the hickeys if he gets that close to you. he holds out his arms expectantly while peter scratches the back of his own neck. “sure, dad. welcome home.” an awkward smile on your lips, you bury your face in your dad’s chest and wrap your arms around him in one motion. this way, he didn’t have time to see you from too close up.

peter exhales in relief at the narrowly avoided disaster. that’s until tony makes a request. “missed me that much, kiddo, huh? come out of there.” “but, i’m so comfortable. i wanna stay like this,” you insist, a niceness to your voice tony immediately sees through. he drops his arms from around you, eyeing peter suspiciously, who averts his gaze to the floor.

“nuh uh, you did something. both of you,” your dad states, taking a step to stand between you and peter. peter gulps down a breath before speaking. “mr. stark, it was-“ tony holds up a hand. “don’t worry, kid. i’ll figure it out.”

he gives peter a proper stare, searching him for clues of some sort. it’s a good thing he isn’t wanda because the details of your night would have been exposed. he couldn’t find anything, so now it’s your turn. he’s a little disappointed you’re the one hiding something.

“oh, y/n. not you,” tony sighs as he gives you a looking over. he starts with your face, your eyes following down as his do. it’s when he gets just past your chin that he sees them. the little hickeys littering your skin, some already deep shades of purple. he rips off his glasses in disbelief.

“absolutely not.” he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with the same hand his glasses are in. “i’m not seeing this. i’m not seeing this if i don’t look.” you scoff at his reaction. “dad, you know we’re together. you can’t expect us to not...” “don’t say it,” tony begs, getting the urge to hurl his half eaten apple. he turns and faces peter.

“parker, you really did all of that?” peter only blinks, nervously meeting the eyes of his mentor. “to my daughter?” tony adds on to scare him even more. “i- i-“ a burst of frustration comes out of peter. “you left two teenagers alone the whole night. what’d you think was gonna happen?” he’s shocked at his own words, his face showing it. tony raises his eyebrows. both your hands cover your mouth.

not wanting to deal with peter, tony addresses you instead. “i don’t care how you do it, cover those up. don’t let me see them ever again. understood?” you nod a good amount of times and reach for peter’s hand. he’s about to give it, then tony glares down at what’s happening. peter pulls back immediatelty. “understood. we’ll, um, do better next time,” you agree, tony winching at the idea of a next time.

“you, parker... treat a lady with a little more respect, eh?” tony clicks his tongue at him. he’s referring to all the hickeys. peter’s lips form a line, a sarcastic one that says oh well. “i tried, mr. stark, but y/n wanted me to-“ “christ, that’s enough.” tony furiously shakes his head and starts to walk away from you two. “never again!”

you’re thanking god when he sets off for the living room, you hiding your face in peter’s chest, his face in your hair. “that was terrible. that was the worst thing ever,” you say into him. “i’m sorry, baby. we gotta be more careful.”

it’s not over yet because then, the toaster dings. you’d completely forgotten about the waffles. you and peter both separate with your millionth shared look of terror. tony comes rushing back into the room, very familiar with that noise.

“first you destroy my daughter, now my toaster? pete... you’re in for it, kid.”

[helloalycia]

overstepping [one] // jane banner (Wind River)

summary: after getting several voicemails from your colleague and best friend with her asking for your backup, you attempt to call her back, only to get no answer.

warning/s: mentions of rape, murder and injuries.

author’s note: this is a two parter because i finally watched Wind River and it broke my heart but also lizzie was v cute and i felt the need to write this, hope you like it x

part two | masterlist | wattpad

"C'mon, work you stupid phone," I complained for the millionth time, before standing on the chair to get a better signal.

When I saw the bars in the corner of the screen increase, a grin appeared on my lips. I loved my parents, but the fact that they lived in a remote cabin in Tennessee with zero signal was not my favourite thing.

When the bars remained, my phone decided to actually be helpful and receive all the messages, calls and voicemails I missed. I did a brief flick through, noticing nothing was too important that couldn't wait for me to return to work. As an FBI agent, I rarely got time off. And now that I had taken a two month vacation to spend with my parents, I was adamant on enjoying it, even if I was missing work a smidge.

Next were the calls, which I noticed were mostly from my colleague and close friend, Jane Banner. I furrowed my brows, realising she'd left me several voicemails, too, which was strange since she knew I was on a break from work. What could be so important?

I sighed, glancing down at my uncomfortable position standing on the chair and leaning above the wardrobe. It was the only place in the house with decent signal and the only other place that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere was twenty minutes out. Telling myself I'd just listen to one voicemail to make sure everything was okay, I played the earliest message.

"Hey, Y/N. I'm sorry, I know you're on a break, but I just had to talk to you," it began, and Jane sounded troubled. "I was in Vegas, as you know, but I've been called out to a reservation in Wyoming where this poor girl was–" She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "She was raped and left to die out in the cold. I thought I could send in another team to take a look – y'know, usual protocol. But the coroner won't rule it a homicide and you know what that means."

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what that meant. If it wasn't ruled a homicide, no backup would come and we had to move onto the next case. But if this girl was raped and left to die, the rapist was still out there and wasn't getting caught by the FBI.

"I can't just leave it and go," Jane continued quietly, with that recognisable passion for her job evident in her voice. "I have to do what I can. But I... I can't do this alone. It's not like other cases, Y/N. It's different out here. And there's only so much their police department can do. I know you're on a break, but I was hoping that, maybe, you could come out here and help me? It's the Wind River Indian Reservation. That's it, I guess. Bye."

The message ended and I found myself chewing on my lower lip anxiously, unable to think about anything other than Jane now. She'd worried me with that one voicemail alone – I couldn't imagine what the others said.

She was usually so good at dealing with cases, but this seemed different. She sounded shaken up, attempting to put on a brave face by the sounds of it. What was so different about this case? She didn't need me. She was capable.

Curiosity got the better of me and I played the second message, ignoring the discomfort in my arms as I stretched to maintain the signal. It was left a day after the first one.

"Hey, so I just remembered that you said you don't get much signal up there with your parents," she began apologetically. "I don't mean to– shit, it's so cold..." There was a pause, a noise in the background, then she continued, "Sorry, just turning up the heating. Anyway, I was saying. I don't mean to intrude on your break. I just– I'm hoping you'll find signal and hear this because I could really use your help. I think we've got a lead on who may have done it. It was hectic today. Really could've used that backup."

She chuckled dryly at her attempt at a joke, but all I felt was guilt. She sounded exhausted within a day of being there.

"I hope you get this," she finished with a sigh. "I should go. Got a busy day tomorrow. Hope you're doing okay. Bye."

I wasted no time in playing the next message. Three days into her case.

"I don't know why I keep sending these," she began with a hoarse voice, and my heart clenched at the sound of it. "You clearly aren't getting them in time. But it's easier talking to you like this than not at all."

It went quiet, so quiet that I thought she may have finished and forgot to hang up. But then she spoke up again, a whimper escaping her lips.

"It's so hard," she admitted. "We've covered worse cases, but this one... everything about it makes me uncomfortable. Something doesn't feel right. I've got a lead – we think it might be the boyfriend who did it and we're gonna see him tomorrow. But I don't know."

I frowned, squeezing my phone tightly because I didn't recognise the girl speaking as my friend. This girl sounded broken and I wondered what she could have discovered that made her like this.

"I've got the police department with me for backup," she said with a sniffle. "And Cory, he's a hunter whose been helping me with the case. They're all gonna be with me tomorrow. But I wish you were here, too. You always make things easier."

The lump in my throat wouldn't disappear no matter how many times I swallowed it. She made things easier, too. Always. And all I wanted to was be by her side and be there for her like she always was for me.

"Sorry about this," she said with a watery laugh, and I could imagine the embarrassed smile on her face as she did. "I sound like such an idiot. Never mind these messages. Just enjoy your break. I shouldn't be worrying you like this. See you when you get back."

The message ended and I checked to see if there were anymore, but to my disappointment, there wasn't. That message was from a few days ago and she hadn't sent anything since which was concerning in itself.

Trying not to panic for no reason, I called Jane. Hopefully everything was okay and I was being stupid. She was a fully-trained FBI agent. She could take care of herself. Right?

The call rang and rang, but nobody picked up. One missed call. No biggie. She probably heard it and couldn't find her phone or something. So, I tried again.

More ringing and no answer. Okay, no big deal. Just try again.

Another call and no answer. The chewing on my lip became more intense. Why the hell wasn't she picking up? Was she still working the case?

I waited an hour, trying again at ten minute intervals, unable to fight my concern. But there was no answer every time and I realised that I couldn't sit and wait for her to call back. Not after how she sounded in those voicemails.

No, I had to go there. She needed backup.

—

Wyoming was way colder than I could have prepared for.

I mean, technically, I prepared for nothing. I bid my parents a goodbye, threw some random clothes in a bag and caught the next plane over there. I tried for Jane's phone constantly, knowing she was never one to ignore me for this long, but there was no point. She wasn't answering, which could only mean so much.

When I reached the reservation, I had no idea where anything was or what I was looking for exactly. I just knew that as soon as the taxi dropped me off in the centre of town, I didn't know where to go.

There were a lot of locals hanging around, so my first port of call was to ask them if they'd seen Jane around – or Agent Banner, as she may have introduced herself. I showed them a picture of her on my phone, described her with vivid detail, but they just stared at me like I was crazy. I was starting to believe I was at one point, until I stopped by the convenience store.

As worried as I was for Jane's whereabouts, the chill in my bones was real. Especially my hands, which I was certain would fall off any minute. So, I decided to buy some gloves and also ask the cashier if he'd seen Jane around or heard anything of her. Whilst I was doing that, a customer caught my attention, probably having overheard my conversation.

"Did you say Jane Banner?" he asked with a quirked brow, interrupting my purchase. "The FBI lady, right?"

I nodded quickly, facing him. "Yes, that's her! D'you know where she is?"

He nodded casually. "Yeah, she's in the hospital. That big shootout that happened a few days ago, right?"

My stomach dropped. "The what?"

"The shootout," he repeated, not aware of the concern in my face. "At the drill site. A bunch of officers were killed and the FBI lady was one of the only one left standing." He tutted as he shook his head. "Very lucky that one."

A shootout? The hospital? Only one left standing? No wonder she hadn't been answering her calls.

"Can you– do you–" I stopped, clearing my throat and trying to stop freaking out. "Which hospital?"

After getting the address from him, I caught a taxi to the only hospital in town and prayed to God that Jane was okay. The one thing she'd asked for was backup and I couldn't even give her that. If I'd just looked at my messages sooner... fuck.

Getting past the front desk and to Jane's room was no issue at all. A quick flash of my FBI badge was enough for the receptionist to give me the details and wave me through. My heart was constricting in my chest the longer it took. What if it was really bad? What if that customer's intel was outdated and Jane was– no. I couldn't afford to think like that.

Upon finding Jane's room, I spotted an older man leaving through the door, being careful to close it behind him. I didn't recognise him at all.

"Excuse me," I called, earning his attention. "Is that Jane Banner's room you just came from?"

He seemed surprised, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was speaking to him, before nodding. "Yes. Sorry, who are you?"

I pulled my badge from my pocket and showed him, though I doubted anyone would take me seriously when my eyes were watering at thought of Jane being severely injured.

"I'm her friend," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat before lowering my badge.

"Oh, you're the backup that didn't come," he said with realisation.

My eyes flickered to the floor guiltily. He wasn't exactly wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he added quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

I shook my head, lifting my eyes to meet his. "It's okay. I should've... I should've been here." It went quiet as he didn't know what to say, so I looked to him halfheartedly. "I assume you're from the police department, one of the ones who helped Jane."

"Not exactly," he said, before putting out his hand for me to shake. "Name's Cory. I'm a hunter by trade."

Returning his handshake, I recalled Jane's voicemail. "Oh, yeah, she mentioned you... thank you for helping her out."

When I couldn’t, I added in my head.

He offered me a small smile and I couldn't find it in myself to return it. I must have looked like shit, since he gave me a pitiful gaze.

"You want me to catch you up before you go in?" he asked, nodding to Jane's door. "She's okay by the way."

I nodded, sucking up a breath. My nerves were eating away at me the longer I didn't see Jane – half of me was terrified of what I'd find, and the other half was afraid she'd be upset or angry because I left her to it, even when she pleaded for my help.

Cory and I took a seat down the hall and he proceeded to explain about the case and how they found the guy who raped that poor girl. The shootout was the worst bit, making me shiver with discomfort. Apparently, Jane had gotten blasted with a shotgun, puncturing her torso and neck despite the vest she wore. All of the officers with her were killed and by the sounds of it, Jane almost was, too. But Cory managed to take out the criminals and the rapist himself. When he was finished telling me, I had no words.

"She's a bit shaken up, but her surgery went well," Cory reassured with a short nod. "Does she know you're coming?"

I shook my head, voice thick with emotion. "She wouldn't answer her phone. I guess I know why now."

Cory nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before sparing me a consoling glance. "She talked about you a lot. I think it'll cheer her up seeing you. You should go."

My eyes met his, teary and stinging with unshed tears. "Thank you so much."

He shrugged bashfully, but he didn't realise all that he'd done. I gave him a small, tight smile before standing up with a sigh. No point dwelling anymore – I had to see her.

Pushing my selfish feelings aside, I sucked it up and approached Jane's room. She would either want to punch me or not, but either way, I had to see if she was okay. And so, when I opened the door slightly, heart racing in my chest, said heart jumped in my throat at the sight of her.

She was laying on the bed with wires stuck in her and, only from what I could see, bandages were covering the side of her neck. I thought she was sleeping at first, but then her head tilted towards the door curiously, and bright blue eyes widened with disbelief.

"Y/N?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What are you– how did you get here?"

I closed the door behind me and hesitantly approached her bedside, unable to stop my eyes from soaking in the sight of her. She looked so feeble and vulnerable and unlike how I saw her last. Then, Cory's words came back to me and I began to imagine the worst scenario of her getting shot, blood seeping from her wounds, the life draining from her eyes...

"Y/N," she called, and I looked to her startlingly, hoping I didn't look as troubled as I felt.

"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat. "I, er– the messages. Voicemail. I heard them and tried calling you back, but..."

She pursed her lips, exhaling with a wince and looking up at the ceiling, as if suddenly remembering she left messages in the first place.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I said quietly, guilt seeping back in.

"No, no, don't be," she said, and I just about noticed the pink dusting her cheeks. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have interrupted your vacation like that. I know you said you wanted a break and–"

"Jane, no, don't even say that," I cut her off, reaching for her hand in an instant. She looked my way, eyes flickering between mine nervously. I squeezed her hand gently and said, "I should have been here. You needed me and I– I didn't come. Maybe if I had, this could have ended differently."

She tried to smile, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. "It's not that bad, honestly. It just looks bad."

I pressed my lips together, eyes falling to the bandage on her neck. Even though it was big and covered her wound, I could still make out the bruising around it from the impact of the shell. I didn't imagine the torso wound looking any different, and that thought alone made me regret leaving her alone. It was very much as bad as it looked; I knew that and she knew that.

Her lips trembled as she avoided my eyes, her own tearing up. I pushed away my guilt momentarily and changed the subject.

"So, I met Cory. He seems like a great guy."

She didn't say anything as she seemed lost in thought. Either that or she was trying not to cry in front of me. I hoped it wasn't the latter, since the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.

"You know," I said, when she wouldn't speak, "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay safe before I left for my vacation."

At my poor attempt to lighten the mood, she cracked a small, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless, and my racing heart slowed down momentarily.

"I'm glad you're okay," I said, now that I had her attention again, and she looked my way with a softened expression. "Kind of okay. But you know... okay."

Thankfully, she knew what I meant and her hand tightened around mine.

"I'm glad you came," she returned, and I couldn't look away even if I tried. She was always able to trap me with a single gaze.

With a tug of her hand, she motioned for me to sit on the edge of her bed, so I did. And then she began to ask me about my vacation, what I'd been up to this past month, how my parents were... basically anything and everything except for the case. And it was understandable, since she was reminded of it all the time. If I could be a form of escapism for her, so be it. It was the least I could do.

We spoke for hours until the nurse came in to let me know visiting hours were over and I'd have to come back tomorrow. With a regretful sigh, I got up from my seat on her bedside and stretched my limbs.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, a slight frown on her lips.

I smiled awkwardly, realising I didn't think that far ahead. "I'm not gonna lie, I don't know. I came straight here. There's gotta be a hotel or something in this town, right?"

She nodded and flicked her hand to the shelves on the other side of the room. "You should stay in my room in the inn. Key's in my bag over there."

"Oh, I don't have to do that–"

"Y/N, it's not like I'm going to be staying there anytime soon," she cut me off, smiling halfheartedly. "Please."

I chewed on my lip and nodded, giving in. When I grabbed her keys from her bag, I stopped by her bedside and gave her a supportive smile.

"I'll back first thing in the morning, if you don't mind," I said, and she finally gave me a smile that reached her eyes.

"I'd like that."

I nodded, resting a hand on hers and squeezing comfortingly. "Goodnight."

—

Though I knew Jane was okay, I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about her all night. The sight of her wounds and the broken expression on her face was enough to keep me awake. And the guilt that came with it all... why couldn't I have just picked up my damn phone?

As promised, I returned to Jane's hospital room the next morning, this time bringing some breakfast snacks from the hospital cafeteria since I knew the food would be much better than whatever they were serving her. Judging by the content expression on her face when I gave it to her, I was right.

When she finished eating, she was able to sit up slightly and move over on her bed, urging for me to join her and watch some TV with her. There was no way I was going to turn down that offer, so I slid next to her and kept a packet of sliced apples between us as we watched whatever was playing on the TV.

About halfway through watching, she spoke up randomly, taking me by surprise.

"When are you leaving?"

I tore my gaze from the screen and realised she was staring at me with intense green eyes.

"When you're well enough to," I answered truthfully.

She looked down to her hands. "You don't have to stay with me. You can go."

I studied her profile, knowing it was the wrong time to appreciate how stunning she looked even when she was makeup-free, sporting a bed head and tired.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked softly, afraid I may have overstepped.

She was quick to shake her head slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine with glossy ones. "No."

I nodded, trying very hard not to smile, cleared my throat and grabbed her hand. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be right here until you get better and I can take you home."

A ragged breath escaped her lips as she nodded in response. We both looked back to the TV and I noticed she didn't let go of my hand, her fingers warm to the touch and giving me goosebumps at the contact. But I wouldn't have had it any other way.

[slothspaghettiwrites]

You Are My Sunshine

You Are My Sunshine - It’s A Match series

Story Rating: Mature

Warnings: Implied Sex, Swearing, Canon Typical Violence, Some body image issues, anxiety, Tony’s a bit of a Jerk, poor proofreading

Relationships: Chubby!Thor x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 8339

Summary: Thor is back on Midgard after some time with the Guardians. Romance ensues. 

A/N: I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I just really love Chubby!Thor tbh. Loki’s a good guy, Rocket and Groot are chilling at the compound as well. 

⚡

Chapter 1

Why do I let myself be talked into these things? I was more than happy to be invited out to another meaningless brand launch for some new sheet mask or another, but the after-party? I could have done without that. The number of vodka Redbulls I had to ingest to keep up with those stupid coked up bitches I called friends was probably enough to kill me. 

“C’mon you sluts, one more for the road, then Mom can call us an Uber.”

Yeah, that was my designation here. Mom-friend. I didn’t live in the city and I didn’t do drugs. But I wasn’t even the oldest. I’m only 26! My “fun sucking” as they called made me the Mom-friend. I spent just as much time watching the table during their frequent bathroom breaks as I did actually talking with them. 

But thankfully, I was now on the last train home. The slow-rolling engine lulling me into a trance. To keep me awake and entertained, I browsed through my dusty ass Tinder. I hadn’t given up on dating per-say but after a load of “OMG your that YouTuber” and “I thought you’d be thinner” chats and meet-ups, I was pretty done with talking to anyone. 

However, I was not above swipe right on the bear of a man I’d just come across. It must be a joke account. Like the actual Thor fucking Odinson of Asgard and the Avengers would need tinder to meet people. His pictures were cute, not what I expected at all honestly. Do you know what I mean? I expected gym pics and mirror selfies. But it mostly just looked like an adorable chubby bear. Also, his eyes looked so beautiful. I could happily drown in that and his beard. God that beard… So I have a thing for beards, sue me. 

I nearly choked on the Gatorade I was drinking when he matched with me. HOLY SHIT. I fired off a message instantly. I wasn’t gonna miss this chance.

You- Well hellllllloooooooo 😏😏😏😏

You- sorry that’s aggressive and I’m drunk on the train home

Thor- lol

Thor- I like aggressive women, so no worries

You- anywhoooooossss, what are you doing up so late

Thor- decompressing after a mission with video gammmmmeeeeessssss

You- whatcha playin’? pls note my understanding of video games is zero

Thor- Rocket League, it is very strange. It’s like soccer, but with mini cars. 

Thor- but it’s a pretty easy game to learn

You- you’ll have to teach some time then 😉😉😉

At my stop, I shoved my phone into my stupid tiny purse and get my keys out. It’s only a 15 minute walk to my little abode, but better safe than sorry. I should have worn a jacket. The blistering cold wind of upstate New York made my teeth chatter. In the distance, a huge bolt of lightning crashed through the sky, followed by an ear-splittingly loud roll of thunder. 

I picked up the pace to my house. I don’t need to get rained on. This dress was expensive. After a near-miss on my steps, I made it to my porch. Still no rain though. Weird, but whatever. I unlocked the front door and stumbled into my tiny living room. Shoes were thrown near the door and my phone retrieved from my purse, it was time to remove my face. 

Even drunk me remembered the importance of a nighttime skincare routine. Cleansing balm, foam cleanser, acid toner, anti-aging serum, eye cream, and a thick layer of extra hydrating night cream later, I was fresh-faced and much more comfortable. Fuck fake lashes is all I’m gonna say. 

I peeled off the dress I wore out and headed out of my bedroom and to the kitchen for a huge glass of water. My phone screen was lighting up with notification after notification. The group chat must have been going off. I couldn’t handle them right now. I shot off a quick “I made it home safe” text and looked back at my chat with Thor.

Thor- well then, when are you next free?

You- Thursdays are my day off but imma be too hungover to learn tomorrow 🥴🥴🥴

You- short notice, wanna meet up for like brunch or some other bougie shit?

Thor- fucking love brunch

Thor- where?

You- can you get to this place? [Location Attached]

Thor- wonderful, does 11:30 work for you?

You- yeppo

You- just a pre warning though, imma probs be in trackies and shades

Warning of my general outfit plans tomorrow sent, I turned off my phone. I had a strict rule of never using my phone in my bedroom, and it’s just easier to beat temptation that way. I plugged it into the charge next to my coffee maker and went to bed. I needed my beauty sleep if I was gonna meet a literal god tomorrow. 

⚡

If the sound of my alarm going off at 10 am didn’t kill me, the light coming through the blinds would. I slammed my fist down onto the device and it cut to a top hits radio station. Dance Monkey. Again. It’s like they couldn’t find any other song to play. I flopped over and slowly got out of bed. A shower would make me feel more alive. Carrying myself into the bathroom, I washed away the final remnants of last night. Club stamps were scrubbed off my wrists. I could feel my pores leaking out the end of the vodka Redbulls and I could smell it. Gross.

After standing in the steaming hot shower for longer than required, I went about getting ready for my date. I tried not to think too hard about it. Morning skincare routine completed, I moisturized the rest of me and tamed my hair. 

The Dude ain’t got shit on me. My general Thursday style was still winning over my desire to look cute to meet Thor. Joggers, v-neck t-shirt, oversized kimono, socks with sandals. Well, at least everything was clean and generally matched. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. One signature Tan France french tuck later, I was ready to head out. 

Keys shoved into my pants’ pocket, I took my phone off the charger and walked out to my car. I pulled sunglasses out of the center console. Look now complete, I was ready to go. It was only when I got to the cafe, that it occurred to me to turn on my phone. I was really enjoying the silence of it all. 

The stupid thing immediately started going off. Sometimes I wished I’d just stuck with biochemistry and doing research. I scrolled through the notifications while I stood outside waiting for Thor. Instagram, youtube, email about this, group chat about that, nothing interesting. 

“Are you trying to look like The Dude?” A deep timbre penetrated my mindless activity.  

“You trying to copy my style, Thor?” I asked when I turned to look at the man dressed nearly identical to me. Blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail, blue sweatshirt, loose sweatpants…

“Are you wearing crocs?” I asked.

“Do you have a problem with that?” He smiled and wiggled his feet.

“Look at this winning combo on my feet dude, I ain’t got no problems today.” I smiled in return. “C’mon this hangover won’t cure itself.”

I’m not gonna call it a date anymore. No matter how much I wanted to dick down with Thor. It felt more like two bros hanging out than anything else. Which honestly felt great. I had plenty of bitchy high strung friends thanks to the job I did. Thor was super chill and relaxed. We happily ate our breakfasts, I got a huge plate of chicken and waffles along with a massive iced coffee. Just because it was fall, doesn’t mean it wasn’t iced coffee season anymore. Thor ordered… well, light. He got an open-faced avocado toast with a poached egg and orange juice to drink. I tried to not be self-conscious about it. To each their own right?  

“You sure you don’t want to try this?” I asked again, nearly finished. 

Thor stared at his long finished plate, “Yep, definitely sure.”

I took the final bite, making, maybe more than necessary, eye contact with him. Then, I took a long sip of my ice coffee through the paper straw. Something was off. Our conversation had been going pretty great, or so I thought. He had so many adventures to talk about and I was loving getting to learn more about him. 

“You okay?” I finally asked, pulling up my sunglasses. 

“Mmm,” he responded, not actually answering. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry if this isn’t like a fantastic date or whatever. We can do something else if you wanna or go our separate ways, no hard feelings.” Please don’t say you wanna go. Even if we are just friends, I’d be happy with that.

“NO,” Thor shouted, scaring a few people at the cafe. “Sorry.”

“I understand if you don’t wanna talk about,” I waved my hand around in a vagueness, “whatever. I’m sorry for trying to push my food on to you.”

I didn’t want to put labels on whatever had caused this shift in him. If it was me being pushy about my food and he had issues with eating or if it was just him suddenly realizing I was weird or not what my Tinder profile said I would be. 

“You don’t need to apologize. I was just given some rather shit advice is all and now I’m kinda overthinking it.” Thor brought his hands to rest on his stomach, then thought better of it. 

Oh. OH! Sure I’d seen him in the news ages ago, being ripped and short-haired. But that didn’t really much matter to me. Guys like that were a dime a dozen. It didn’t mean they had personality. And Thor seemed to have loads of that when he wasn’t thinking too hard. He was sweet, thoughtful, and his eyes sparkled when he laughed.

“Sounds like this person should have kept their mouth shut,” I smirked and took another sip of my coffee. 

“He isn’t the best at that.” Thor gave a low chuckle. “Stark doesn’t have much of a filter.”

“I have heard that,” I mused. 

How could I keep this going? I didn’t want to just pay the check and runoff. That would leave a bad taste in my mouth.

“Wanna go shopping?” I blurted out. Sure why not? It wasn’t a completely mundane or totally weird thing to do with someone you just met.

“Oh hmm,” Thor clammed up.

“You can say no. I’m just not ready for this to end. I’ve had a really great time.” I slurped down the last of my iced coffee to keep my mouth shut. 

“Fuck it, let’s go shopping. Where do you have in mind?”  

⚡

Okay, so this plan had gone exceedingly well. Just gonna pat myself on the back for that one. One - Thor had great taste in music. I was more than happy to hand over the aux cord and let him have control. I needed to focus on driving anyhow. It wasn’t surprising that he had a taste for classic rock. I was surprised by the eclectic mix of folky bluegrass and country though.

“I hate when ballads don’t have a story. What’s the point of repeating the same verse over and over again? What’s the point of the song then?��� He lamented when I raised an eyebrow at the first bluegrass song. 

Two - It seemed to bring him no small amount of joy to slap down a Stark Industry credit card when we checked out.

Thor had been skeptical of the place I chose to shop. The huge red storefront with giant red ball-shaped bollards was pretty aggressive. But Target was great. We could wander around the store, look at clothes, toys, shoes, food, electronics, anything. I knew if we wanted to look at clothes, they’d have things in our size, things that weren’t horrifically cheap or budget destroying. Lord knows what an Avengers/Asgardian Ambassadors’ salary was like. 

We wandered around the clothes first and I threw a few things that I liked into the cart I was pushing around because it’s Target. I’m not leaving empty-handed. 

“Okay, honest thoughts on this?” I held up a gray crop top with some flowers on it.

“It is supposed to be that short?” He asked.

“Yep, I’m really into crop tops right now cause all pants and shit are hi-rise.”

“Then yes, I think this would look great on you.”

“Faaabbbb, now onto the main quest! Let’s see if we can find a pair of jeans.” I stepped up onto the cart and pushed off, Thor laughing behind me. 

After an annoying 10 minutes, I was ready to give up. Sure I could order jeans online and go through the hassle of returns, but this just seemed like it could have been easy. 

“I have found a 16, whatever in the fucking nine realms that means.”

“It’s gotta be an 18, these thick thighs haven’t been a 16 in years,” I joked. 

“It seems ridiculous they don’t have your size,” Thor continued to scan the wall of denim in front of him. 

“No biggie my dude,” I assured him.

“I don’t normally shop for clothes,” he explained and gestured at his outfit or himself.

“Well do you wanna?” I asked in what I hoped was a noncommittal, totally chill voice. 

“I-uh, yeah, you know what. It would probably be good for me to fill up the wardrobe I have.”

So off we went to the men’s section. Thor walked around looking at different shirts and button-downs, analyzing them. For what I wasn’t sure, but it was clearly distressing him.

“Hey,” I touched his arm and he flinched.

That being the first time we’d actually touched. Weird that we’d gotten this deep into a not date and I hadn’t touched him yet. I was normally a pretty tactile person. But he had flinched, which made me pull my hand away. 

“Sorry,” we both said.

“Do you want me to help? Or we can go look at bedspreads and I can pretend I don’t need a new one even though I know I will probably get a new one,” I smiled. 

“I’m just not sure what size to get,” Thor crossed his arms. 

“Do you like the way this hoodie fits?”

“Yeah, it’s soft and not clingy.”

“Do you mind if I check the tag at the back?”

“Can you even reach it?” He teased.

“Thor, some people have to be short. It’s to balance out giants like you,” I reached up and flipped the tag out. “2XLT, that should be easy enough.” I smiled again and placed it back into his hoodie. 

And it was surprisingly easy. Thor liked soft clothes. The cart was quickly filling up with soft graphic tees, flannel shirts, and sweaters. I also convinced him to throw in a few pairs of jeans after I saw him eyeing that wall.

Then I mentioned we should try on the clothes we picked out. He didn’t like that idea at all, it was almost like trying to convince a child to eat their vegetables. 

“Bro, if you try them on, we’ll know if we need to size up or down or get a longer pair. There is no pressure to buy anything.” I reiterated that last bit. I didn’t need him thinking I wanted to change him. 

Then Thor came out of the changing stall and yeah. Dick down indeed. We can be bros and still do that right? I felt my cheeks heat up and my eyes trail up to meet his. Mega hot Norse lumberjack fetish fully established in my brain now. The soft red flannel fit across his broad shoulders perfectly and was long enough that even if he lifted his arms above his head, he wouldn’t show any skin. He seemed very concerned about things being long enough. 

“Oh you definitely have to get that,” the words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. 

“You see something you like?” He said the line with a blush on his own cheeks. 

“I’ve seen something I’ve liked all day,” I replied with a wink.

Thor grinned and went back in to try on the rest of the clothes. He came out occasionally to ask my opinion on a style or to determine if he needed a different size. Retail therapy really seemed to improve his mood, which just made me all warm and fuzzy inside. He deserved to be happy in his clothes, just like anyone else. 

“I heard tell there was a quest for bedding?” He had a smug grin on his face, purposefully using that wording for the double meaning. 

⚡

“Thor, there is a raccoon dressed in a jumpsuit on your car,” I said when we pulled back up to the cafe. 

Thor responded by throwing his head back and groaning. He rubbed his hands over his face and just sat there as I pulled up next to his vehicle. The animal seemed to notice Thor was in my car then and started waving and speaking.

“For fuck’s sake,” Thor muttered.

“The doors are locked, it’s not like it can get in here.” I tried to assure him.

“Rocket isn’t supposed to be away from the compound. He has, uh, sticky fingers or whatever you call it.”

The knock on my window nearly made me jump out of my seat.

“Motherfucker,” I gasped.

The raccoon pointed very angrily at Thor than at me and seemed to be shouting about something, but I couldn’t tell what. I glanced at Thor, eyes begging him to take control of this situation. He just sighed. 

“From experience, it’s best to just deal with him. He doesn’t like to be ignored.”

Thor got out the car first and I followed once the animal had moved away from my door. And then I was attacked by said raccoon. 

“For crying out loud Thor, I can’t believe this who you went out with-”

“Watch what the fuck you say rabbit,” Thor picked Rocket up by his jumpsuit. 

“Dude, slow your roll. Do you know who she is?” Rocket pointed a small claw at me.

“Yes, of course,” Thor looked confused.

“Ah, really then, can you put me back down. I want a fucking picture. Everyone is gonna be so jealous.”

“Rocket, this is like my one day off. Do you desperately need to get a picture with me?” Both of them looked at me. 

“Pleeeeaaaasssseeeeeee,” he grinned revealing cute tiny sharp teeth.

“Thor, do you wanna be in the picture?” I asked, putting on my happy internet person face.

“No,” he frowned, still not let go of Rocket.

“Can we use your phone please?” I wanted to get this over with and also stealthy add my number to his phone. 

“Sure, dude,” Thor released the raccoon, who scurried up my leg and onto my shoulder.

“Normally I punch people who get handsy during a photo op,” I gave Rocket a sideways glance.

“Look at me though, I’m so cute and innocent.” Rocket pressed his face to mine.

“Okay Thor, let’s get this picture taken.”

Five photos later, we were done. I was done after one photo, but Rocket kept fucking blinking. Which is why the last photo is just me scowling at the camera with my middle finger up. 

“Okay, all the bags have been swapped and you’ve got everything?” I asked.

“The rabbit is secure,” Thor gestured at Rocket buckled up in the kiddie seat in the back of his car, which was hilarious.

“Awesome,” I hummed, unsure now of how to say goodbye.

Thor took a step closer to me, “Can I, um,” he brought his hand up near my shoulder.

“Do you wanna hug or are you asking me for a kiss Thor Odinson?” I grinned at him, taking a step towards him. 

“I, uh, whichever,” He blushed. 

I stepped forward, into his space, and kissed him. One of my hands wrapped around the back of his neck, while the other settled on his shoulder. When he pulled away I could have sworn I saw a flash behind his irises. 

“Call me,” I whispered against his lips before I slid back into my car to go home.

Chapter 2

Thursdays were officially his favorite day of the week. Or Thorsday as you called them. Whenever there wasn’t a mission, you would hang out with him. There were no expectations, it was just the two of you Netflix and chilling or going for lunch or taking a walk. Being around you was easy. Thor had felt the best he felt in… years if he was honest during the past six months you’d been around. 

Sure there were the occasional times when Thor couldn’t hang out on a Thursday, but you were never demanding of his time. You understood that what he did and that he can’t just say no to his responsibilities anymore. And that just made him like you even more. You accepted all him. 

Thor was coming back from the gym after a sparring session with Steve and Bucky when he heard your voice. That was a bit of a shock. He was certain he hadn’t asked you to come over to the compound. Mostly because you had no desire to meet the Avengers. If Thor wanted to introduce you to his friends, you assured him he could do so whenever he was ready. He was happy to be a bit selfish and keep you to himself for now, especially after Rocket had been so weird during your first date. The team had gushed over the picture, but he wasn’t sure why. 

“Friends, what are you doing?” Thor walked into the common area, wiping sweat from his forehead, and refilled his “Thor” water bottle.

On the TV was your face. Instantly he smiled, then frowned. Why were you on the TV?

“Learning about why I need to start using Vitamin C in my skincare regime. Silence oaf,” Loki shouted.

“Loki, you’re a god. Your skin is like porcelain,” Nat shoved him on the couch.

On the screen, you were in front of a whiteboard with loads of formulas written in orange marker. You were talking about the science behind the active ingredients, and how when in different types of skincare products, you will see the effects differently. 

At one point, you were talking so animatedly about the different types of Vitamin C you knocked the whiteboard over. Everyone, including you on the screen, burst into laughter.

“Anywhooo friendinos, all I’ve got to say is that based on peer-reviewed research, this is something I’d recommend including in your routine. Now onto the part we have all been waiting for, let’s talk about actual products. As per the usual, I’ve been using these products for 15 days, but remember that everyone’s skin chemistry is different.” 

And then you listed a huge selection of products. All of which had the ingredient you were talking about in it. You talked about product smell, the feel of it, how you’ve been using, what you’d pair it with, and if it’s worth the money. Thor was utterly enthralled by this video. You had said you “did social media” for a living, but he wasn’t expecting this. You were a genius, in his opinion. 

“Hey, are you guys watching the new B and B video without me?” Bucky tossed himself onto Loki and Nat. 

“No, this is an old one.”

“Good, I’m ready to be educated.” Steve came round the corner and sat down in an armchair. 

“Don’t fucking start it without us,” Rocket and Groot were now here as well. 

What had he been missing? For months apparently??? 

“What is the new video called?” Steve asked.

“Drugstore full face of makeup for $10,” Loki didn’t look away from the screen as Nat clicked the new video. 

Thor recognized the shirt you were wearing in this video. It was the gray crop top. You had mentioned to him last time he was over that it was one of your favorites. That made him smile again at the memory. 

Back on the screen, you talked about each product, reading out key ingredients, swatching the product on your hand, and tallying up the price. You were extremely thorough and called out ingredients that could irritate sensitive skin or if a product was vegan. Thor enjoyed listening to your voice, it soothed something inside him. This was a great discovery. He was just about to text you when the video suddenly cut to a grainy video of you, massive headphones on, in Thor’s shirt that he forgot at your house. You looked tired and stressed. When had you filmed this video?

“Sorry for the random cut there my dudes. That content would only have been approved on Pornhub. I just realized I couldn’t pass that off as a regular cut, but thought I should explain why I look the way I look. Now, back to the makeup,” and then your image returned to the high-quality video. Your hair was ruffled where Thor had wove his hands into it. 

Two weeks ago he had stayed over on a Thursday night. On Friday morning, he had woken up in an empty bed. He had called out and you poked your head out of a room, makeup half done. He hadn’t thought anything of it. There was a meeting he was late for, but he wanted to kiss you goodbye. So he did, very thoroughly. You were always the perfect mix of cute and sexy. Breathless and a bit clingy. That was one of his other favorite things. You loved touching him. 

“Thor you slut,” Rocket shouted and grinned.

“Language,” Steve scowled.

“Why is Thor a whore?” Bucky asked, giving a cheeky grin to Steve at the still offensive term.

“Do you remember that Friday Thor was late to a staff meeting?” Rocket asked.

“Yeah, so what?” Nat responded. It wasn’t the first time Thor was late for a meeting.

“Have you noticed he actually has been training again?”

“Yeah, but we’ve been going on a lot of missions lately and it’s good to stay in practice with the team.” Bucky crossed his arms at the raccoon. 

Thor wanted to melt or be struck by lightning and have it actually affect him. He really enjoyed having a place away from all his. A place he felt safe and normal, and not just Thor, the chubby Avenger as Stark so kindly put it. 

“Have you also noticed that he has been using beard oil and has frequently been walking around with it braided?” 

You liked braiding his beard and hair. If Thor was having a bad body image day as you called it or just in need of some petting, you would braid his beard while he laid his head in your lap. 

“So my brother has finally decided his personal hygiene matters, what of it raccoon?” Loki sneered, annoyed at the video being stopped.  

“She is the reason!” Rocket waved his tiny hands at Thor. “Have none of you noticed he disappears every Thursday?”

“I just thought he was taking a day off. Everyone is allowed a day off.” Steve scrunched his eyebrows together. 

“You are all so fucking slow. Thor is dating her. They are together. He has stayed over at her house several times.” Rocket collapsed onto Groot, exasperated.

“Rocket, you were sworn to secrecy.” Thor hissed, blush creeping up his neck.

“She outed you, not me,” he argued.

“No you deffo outed him Rocket, but this is very exciting news.” Nat pointed at him.

Everyone’s interest turned from the video to Thor.  

“Oh dear brother, do spill the tea,” Loki grinned at him.

“There is nothing to spill. We’ve been dating for about six months now.” Thor defensively crossed his arms.

“SIX MONTHS?!” Bucky shouted.

“Yes,” Thor nodded.

“You’re all horrible at your jobs, I’ve known Point Break here as been dating since he set up his Tinder profile,” Tony entered the common area and went to sit with Steve. 

“Tones, don’t be mean,” Steve frowned at him even as he wrapped his arm around the man.

“You met on Tinder?” Nat’s eyebrows rose into her hairline.

“Invite her over before we follow you on a date,” Tony called out as Thor stalked off. 

Thor- Sunshine light of my life I have a favor to ask. 🙏🙏🙏

You- lay it on me dude 

Thor- would you be interested in meeting the people I am forced to live with?

You- will Stark be there?

Thor- he is the one demanding it.

You- 

Thor- I still haven’t seen that show

You- omg how I have been so remiss in your education?

⚡

Precisely at quarter to three JARVIS alerted Thor that you had arrived on the compound premises. He jogged out to the visitor parking lot to meet you. 

Wow. You looked stunning. Well, you looked stunning all the time to him. But you’d gone all out for a Thursday. You were wearing the gray crop top paired with a flowy skirt. Despite your overall spring look, you wore very heavy looking boots. Thor decided not to question it. You knew the styles and he was just happy to be around you.

“Hey sunshine,” Thor smiled and leaned down to kiss you.

“Hey yourself,” You smiled when your lips separated. 

“We have about an hour until everyone is done for the day, so what do you wanna do?” Thor offered you his arm. 

“Well, my good man, now would be an excellent time to learn how to play Rocket League.” You squeezed his arm and leaned into his side while Thor guided you into the compound. 

“I hope you are prepared to lose then my love, because I will show no mercy,” Thor laughed.

An hour later, you were doing a barefoot victory dance in the common area. You had picked up the game quickly. Thor wasn’t surprised if he was honest with himself. It seemed like everything you tried, you succeeded in. The confidence you had in yourself was something he hadn’t seen in himself in… well, a very long time. You just radiated.

Thor got up from the couch and wrapped his arms around you. The way your form melded with his made his blood turn hot. The soft curve of your body under his strong hand. You had told him many times how you loved the contrasts of him. How his soft stomach and strong leg were glorious. That was the word you’d used. Thor was pretty sure he’d never had his body described like that. 

You clasped your hands behind his back and squeezed him. Thor kissed the top of your head. 

“You are amazing,” he smiled down at you.

“Thank you, I know,” Stark walked into the common area. 

Thor watched an instant change in your expression. You were angry. No, you looked ready to kill. That was new. He’d never seen you look at all angry. Annoyed sure, especially when he would leave Pop-Tart crumbs on your counter or didn’t pull his hair out of your shower drain, but never like this. 

You put your shoes back on. Were you going to leave now? Oh gods, did you actually not want to know about this part of his life?

“Tony fucking Stark,” You glared and walked up to him.

“Well hello to you too,” He gave the signature Stark smirk. 

The rest of the team was walking in when you brought your boot foot down onto Tony’s. It made sense now why you had put your shoes back on. Thor tried not to laugh as the shorter man winced and grabbed his foot.  

“If you think it is okay to bully other people, we are gonna have a serious problem dude,” Your scowl deepened. “If I have to hear about the shit you’ve been pulling or saying to Thor or Rocket or Bruce or Clint again I will make you regret it.”

The team stared at you, while Thor couldn’t wipe the prideful grin off his face. You were defending him. His cute, soft, warm, ray of sunshine was threatening to burn Tony Stark. 

“She’s a girl after your own heart Stevie,” Bucky broke the silence that followed your outburst. 

You marched back over to Thor then and grabbed his hand. There were tears in your eyes now. As if the great show of force had wiped all the energy out of you and all that was left was the water pooling in the corner of your eyes. Everyone was still staring. 

“Even when furious, she looks like she has glass skin,” Loki stepped away from the group and walked up to you.

“Nice to meet you Loki, you have great skin too,” You complimented him and to his surprise hugged him. 

Thor wasn’t surprised by this. You were a hugger, just like him. He liked that about you as well. You greeted and hugged the rest of the Avengers with ease. Rocket, carefully after you shouted about your skirt, scurried up, and sat on your shoulder. 

“Why are none of you as nice as her?” Rocket demanded. Mostly you just indulged the raccoon who would sometimes escape and follow Thor to your house. You said it was like having a talking pet, which was the coolest thing ever apparently.

“You've tried to steal my arm multiple times Rocket. I’m not letting you anywhere near my person.” Bucky frowned. 

“Rocket steals things for me all the time,” You shrugged and jostled him.

“See she is nice. She gets me.”

“Do you still have my GoPro? I need it for an event I’m going to next week.” You looked up now to speak solely to Rocket. 

If you felt the awkward tension in the room, you were ignoring it. Rocket talked and waved about while guiding you to his room on the compound. When you were out of earshot, Stark opened his big mouth.

“Does no one care that she stomped on my foot?”

No was the general consensus. Even from Steve. The group dispersed around the common area. Clint and Loki picked up the forgotten game while Nat pulled out her phone and lounged with Bucky.  

“Tony, you have been going pretty hard on the teasing lately.” Steve wrapped an arm around Stark.

“I have not,” He countered.

“You have,” Nat didn’t look up from her phone.

“I’ve even noticed,” Loki jammed his fingers against the controller in his hand.

Before more discussion on Tony’s attitude continued, JARVIS interrupted the group to inform them that you and Rocket had broken into Thor’s room. 

“Shit,” Thor sighed and walked towards his room. 

It was a mess, he hadn’t even thought to clean because he was under no assumption you’d be staying here or have any real interest in seeing it. It was just two rooms; a living room and his bedroom. He recalled leaving Stormbreaker and Mjölnir somewhere in the living room, along with the rest of his armor. There had been a mission earlier in the week and he just didn’t have the energy to clear things up. Hopefully, Rocket wasn’t doing anything dangerous. 

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” Rocket shouted, and now the rest of the team was hot on his heels. 

Great just what he needed, you getting hurt and everyone seeing his messy room. 

“What?” You sounded fine.

“By the Norns,” Loki whispered and peered into the room.

You held Mjölnir like it was no more than one of your numerous makeup brushes. Gently, you placed the hammer back down, out of the way, and turned back to Rocket. 

“I’m just moving a tripping hazard, find my shit bro.” You looked at Rocket expectantly. 

“You just, you just, you,” he spluttered.

“My lady,” Thor’s voice boomed and a crack of lightning exploded outside.

“Hey dude, sorry I touched your stuff, Rocket said he had my favorite sunglasses in here,” you apologized and turned to face him in the doorway. You frowned a bit at the audience behind him. 

“Oh come on,” Tony groaned behind them. 

“Stevie, is she really just a lady version of you? Have you been hanging out with Strange?” Bucky laughed and clapped the super-soldier on his shoulder. 

“I don’t understand,” you continued to shuffle around his mess with Rocket. 

“You are worthy,” Thor beamed.

“Everyone is worthy, what are you talking about?” You tossed the words over your shoulder at the crowd. 

“Do I look cool in this?” Rocket asked putting on Thor’s cape, attention already diverted.

“You look like a very confused Red Riding Hood.”

“Bah, that ain’t my vibe,” Rocket dropped the cape and started rummaging through the couch. 

“Are these yours?” He asked. 

“No, those are The Dude’s sunglasses. Mine are tortoiseshell.” 

“You have sunglasses made from the shells of turtles?”

“No, it’s the style of the pattern on them.”

“I thought you were The Dude?”

“Anyone can be The Dude, you just gotta abide.”

“Hey Thor, can I have your eye patch?” the raccoon pulled it off a shelf he climbed on.

“No,” he tried to sound annoyed by his friend, but he was still trying to not explode with joy. 

You were worthy. YOU are worthy. The hammer had decided. And you didn’t seem to think anything of it. Like it was totally natural to be able to lift a hammer forged from a dying star. This changed everything and nothing about how Thor felt about you. He knew he loved you. He knew that he could no longer imagine his life without you in it. But now, now he felt like he was somehow getting the approval of his father. Of all of Asgard to keep you. To have you be by his side for as long as you were willing.

“Here are these the ones?” Rocket tossed a pair of sunglasses down to you

“Yas, queen,” You laughed and placed the lenses on your face.

You turned back to the onlookers and smiled at Thor.

“More Rocket League?”

Chapter 3

The ring light blinded me when I turned it on. I looked at the secondary screen checking to make sure the whiteboard could be seen and that I wasn’t directly in the way. I also checked to make sure there wasn’t anything distracting in the background. It looked clear. I then looked at the table, triple checking I had my notes, my products, and my remote to stop the camera if necessary. 

“Hey my dudes,” I waved at the camera. “Welcome to the new space! I know I’ve been a bit sketchy lately and took a load of time off a few months ago, but now, finally, I can give you all the dets of what’s been going on.”

I pulled out the massive framed diploma from under the table. It was so big it barely fit on my lap. 

“I got my Ph.D.! I am now Dr. Odinson!” I beamed.

It had been a long time coming and I wouldn’t have ever done it without the support of Thor and the rest of the Avengers.

“Oh, and yeah that’s right. My name is Dr. Odinson now. Respect the title bitches. Please take a look at this carefully posed photo of me and Thor in New Asgard for the wedding,” I waved my hand where I would put the photo of Thor exploding the wedding cake in our faces later. “Big props to Rocket and Clint for taking the least attractive picture of me ever.”

I placed the diploma down. 

“Anywho, we are here to talk about hair oils. I put out a poll on my insta last week requesting questions or concerns or thoughts you had on the topic, so let’s get into it.”

I went on to explain the science of hair growth, the different types of hair, how the environment can affect your hair, and then dove into the products. Discussing the different chemicals, how they react to your hair, and how they can react based on how you style it. 

“If you take Thor, for example. His hair is so soft, but it’s damn long and he’s got a few dreadlocks. I had him test out an oil that would protect his hair from heat damage and frizziness. I also had him test out a beard oil because it’s Movember and we are an equal opportunity channel here. Either way, the texture of his beard is much coarser than his hair, so we tested out a moisturizing frizz control oil. I also had Steve, Bucky, Rocket, and Clint test the different oils out. So boys, what do you think?” I smiled and clicked the remote to turn on the second camera. I watched their image split the secondary screen.

“This is weird,” Steve spoke first.

“Don’t be rude, you do press conferences all the time,” Clint slapped him.

“I liked the hair oil you gave me, it made me extra soft and I’m less itchy,” Rocket jumped up and stroked his fuzzy arm into the boom mic. “You should be an ASMR channel.”

“Thanks, dude, but no thanks,” I shivered at the thought.

“I can’t report on the oil you gave me, wife. Loki stole it.”

“Did he now?” I looked around, “Loki, you can come out now. I know you are still upset with me.”

“As I well should be, I can’t believe you didn’t ask me to help you in the endeavor.” Loki materialized next to Rocket, squishing him into Clint.

Rocket flipped him and then jumped onto my lap. 

“You have gotten heckon soft fam,” I scratch behind his ear.

“Told you,” He looked into the camera. 

“I didn’t ask you Loki because you wouldn’t have been able to complete the full 15 day test run. I also know that the products you use in your hair aren’t readily available to the general public.”

“Also, when I asked you to be in my prank wars videos you said no,” Rocket pointed a claw at him.

“You wanted me to prank Bruce with you. I am not doing that.”

“A video that you can watch right now by the way,” Rocket waved his hands about like I’d throw a video link up in editing for him. 

“Rocket, I said I would plug your prank show at the end. We need to get through the interview,” I squeezed his sides.

“Anyway, I thought the beard oil was great, but I think I used too much of the actual hair oil. I looked more greasy than Bucky did in the 30s.” Steve smirked.

“And may we now all take a moment of silence for the fallen Captain America,” Clint laughed.

After the interview part of the video, I went on to give the list of Men’s products that were featured and explained that all ad revenue this month would be going towards different men’s charities. 

“And please go check out Rocket’s channel, where you can watch me-”

The building started to tremble and lights flickered off. I looked over to where the guys were sitting. Generators kicked on and JARVIS announced that a hostile force had just blown up a portion of the compound. Everyone was accounted for, but the Avenger’s were needed immediately to neutralize the situation.

Suddenly everyone was moving. I threw Rocket at Clint and they ran off with Steve while Loki dematerialized, gold horned helm already in place.

“Stay here,” Thor grabbed my face and kissed me goodbye. 

Stormbreaker and his armor appeared in a flash and I was left standing in a room with a generator buzzing sound and only my own fears. This was this first time I’d ever experienced this side of what the Avengers actually do. The compound was always safe, people weren’t crazy enough to attack here. Or so we all thought. For the briefest moment, I thought everything was done. There was a disturbing silence.

The explosion knocked everything away, throwing me and the whiteboard to the side of the room. I coughed and saw blood dripping on the floor. Shit, shit, shit. I crawled out from under the whiteboard. There were two agents standing in the hole made by the explosion.

“Target found,” One spoke into a device.

“Acquiring now,” The other confirmed and raised a gun at me. 

My hands shot into the air. I didn’t want to be shot. Every bit of self-defense Natasha had taught me just went out the window. Like fuck I could defend myself against a gun.

Or could I? We hadn’t really discussed the whole hammer thing, because I was pretty serious about not wanting Thor’s powers or responsibilities. I didn’t need a hammer to tell me I was worthy, I already knew I was. But I could maybe summon it? I had done it before, by accident when I had gotten in a heated argument with Bruce and Tony about some stupid chemistry shit that doesn’t matter right now because holy fuck I was about to be shot or worse.

“Please don’t shoot,” I tried to stall and think. “Whatever you want, just take it.”

I coughed again. The dust in the air made it hard for me to see. A red dot focused on my chest then there was another flash. Mjölnir was in my hand and I brought the hammer down. I struck the rubble around me, sending out a wave of lightning and energy. My attackers fell to the floor and twitched like I tasered them. Nice.

I watched Thor do this loads of times, surely I could do it. The hammer swung in a furious circle before I released it above my head. I covered my head as the weapon launched me into the air, through the ceiling and outside. 

“Shit, fuck,” I grappled for the handle and it shot off somewhere behind the building, then through the walls of the crumbling compound.

A blast of hot electricity shot through my whole body. How the fuck did Thor every deal with this? I felt like I was going to die. Everything was suddenly very heavy and fuzzy. And I was back in the room with the two people I did not want to be with. 

“Stupid hammer, why are we back here?” I shook Mjölnir. 

Several bolts of lightning shot out of it and I cursed. The bolts struck the rubble surrounding me. Oh, this was not going to end well. I tried to back away from the assailants, only to slip and fall. 

Cape. I slipped on a cape. Why did I have a cape? Where had my clothes gone? I looked over myself and saw I was wearing some kind of leather bodysuit, a breastplate that left my stomach exposed, some ridiculous skirt, and when I touched my face, I realized I was wearing a helmet as well. Jesus Christ, what have I done? 

I pushed myself to sit up. The energy in my body was more alive and pumping than I thought possible.

“And who are you supposed to be?” A red dot centered on my chest plate.

“What have you done with Dr. Odinson?” A second dot joined to point at my metal armor.

I didn’t get a chance to answer as Stormbreak cut them in half. Blood splashed and four wet thumps hit the ground. Thor stood over the dead men before he turned to me. There were droplets of blood splattered across his face and beard. I should be disgusted by the carnage. I’d never seen Thor so predatorial or angry, and good lord was that hot.

“Let’s go, you need to get out of here before the whole building collapses,” Thor grabbed my hand and yanked me up.

He didn’t even take a second look at me. He just jogged out of the building and shot off in the air again. What the fuck was that? There was a deep creaking sound around me then and I rushed out of the building. The force of collapse caused me to fall and lose the helmet. A pair of strong arms were around me and pulling me again to stand up.

“WIFE,” Thor boomed, finally recognizing me.

“Really all it takes is a helmet?” I smirked and brought Mjölnir to rest on my shoulder. 

“We... we are so gonna have a very long, deep conversation about this outfit,” Thor’s eyes raked over me, “but I need to get back to the battle now that I don’t need to search for you.”

I grabbed Thor’s beard and pulled him into a kiss.

“Can’t wait to chat,” I watched him walk back into the fray of battle.

Chapter 4

Buzzfeed New @BuzzfeedNew

IS THERE A NEW AVENGER?

Women’s Health Mag @WomensHealthMag

New Plus Size Heroine joins the Avengers?

The Daily Bugle @TheDailyBugle

First Spiderman, now this mystery woman! What’s next?!

The Avengers @TheOfficialAvengers

We cannot confirm the arrival of a new member to the team. No further comments will be made on the subject. 

Dr Odinson Bitches @BeautyBrainsVlog

The new not-an-Avenger is hot, just saying #Represent

Dr Odinson Bitches @BeautyBrainsVlog

I’m married, not dead you silly beans. 👰👰👰

Dr Odinson Bitches @BeautyBrainsVlog

Check out my new video now for some real good #Movember content and bloopers. 

Rocket the Trash Panda @RocketPranksTheAvengers

Check me out on @BeautyBrainsVlog new video. Can confirm its 10/10 🦝

Thor ⚡ @GodOfThunder

I’m taking applications for a new wife. Mine’s about to go to prison for life and I’m only interested in women with no criminal record. 

|

Dr Odinson Bitches @BeautyBrainsVlog

@GodOfThunder Applications also be taken for a new husband. Must be into brunch, having their hair braided, and roleplay. 

|

Thor ⚡ @GodOfThunder

@BeautyBrainsVlog where do I sign up?

|

Rocket the Trash Panda @RocketPranksTheAvengers

You’re a couple of sluts @GodOfThunder @BeautyBrainsVlog

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part IV (End): Courage, My Love

Description: The final chapter.  The Big Bang 😉  Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: physically aggressive behaviour, ex-boyfriends, angst, size kink, profanity, vaginal fingering and intercourse Word Count: 4237 words (~21 mins of thrills, real talk, fluff and smut) Author’s Notes: To all the lovelies who have been patiently following this story: you’ve made it! 🥳  Welcome to the final chapter in this Shaw saga, where we aim to go out with a massive bang (pun intended 😆).  Once again, thank you all for every like, reblog, and comment I’ve received on this story.  You are all amazing, and I appreciate your support! 💕

As always, tagging the lovely @op-peccatori​ — I hope you enjoyed this story!  I certainly had lots of fun writing this!  Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, dear readers, and happy reading! 

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

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The quiet is back.

But there is no peace, no relief in the monotony that follows after the man known as Shaw burst into your life like a bolt from the blue, stirring up long forgotten feelings like dead leaves animated by a carefree wind — here one minute, gone the next.

And with each passing day, hope erodes.

Little by little, your heart learns not to race as the clock above the magazine rack approaches 1:30.

It becomes harder to remember the sound purple sneakers made walking through the store.

You stop hoping, wishing, to see a head of lavender hair; that the next person to approach the register would place a cup of Pepsi mixed with Coke on the counter, amber-eyed gaze speaking volumes without uttering a single word.

Days become weeks, and then eventually…

…you stop counting them altogether.

* * *

“You’re looking good.  I see you’re doing well for yourself.”

He reaches for the jade pendant hanging around your neck, eyes flashing with amusement when you hit his hand away with an audible smack.

“What the hell do you want?  Haven’t you already done enough?” You say through grit teeth, steps quickening as you head for the better lit part of the street, trying to outpace the man and silently cursing the fact that returning to the convenience store was no longer an option at this point.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that.  It took a lot of effort to track you down and I waited a very long time for you to get off work.  It’s cold, dark and lonely out here.  Is that any way to treat your boyfriend?  Or friend, at least?”

“ ‘Ex-boyfriend,’ asshole, and you’re no friend of mine, especially not after the way you took my life’s savings and ran.”

“Baby, it wasn’t like that—”

“Oh yeah?!  Did you try telling that to the loan sharks too before they came and trashed my place?  I had to move, Leto, because it wasn’t safe for me anymore, not with the way they kept harassing me and the neighbours asking about your whereabouts.  They even came to my office.  I lost my fucking job.  So don’t come around here and tell me that I’m doing well for myself.”

Breaking into a sprint, your mind races as you try to think of a way to lose your ex, anger and anxiety prickling every nerve in equal measure.  He had ruined your life, singlehandedly taken away everything you had.  And though you had known him once, desperation has a way of making monsters out of men.

And right now, for all you knew, he was desperate and dangerous.

“Please, I just want to talk.  I don’t need much this time, just a little bit to get me through this rough patch.  I’ll pay you back, I swear, just…just STOP FOR A MOMENT!—”

You shriek to feel Leto wrap his hand about your wrist, but before he could tighten his grip, another arm is thrown around your shoulder, pulling you back until you’re pressed up against a hard, muscular chest, staring at a close up of Snoopy riding a skateboard.

“You got business with my girl?”

That voice.  Dangerous and cocksure, yet comforting like nothing else as the muffled words reverberate through the tiny bones of your ear, a prelude to the soothing ba-bump of his heart, rhythm steady and concrete as the ground upon which you stood.

Shaw.

He’s really here.

“Hehe.  Your girl?”  The derision in Leto’s voice makes you sick to your stomach; you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he looks Shaw up and down, zeroing in on his old t-shirt.  “Tsk, tsk.  So, not only do you enjoy wearing second hand clothing, you also have the habit of picking up sloppy seconds?”

BOOM!

Deafening thunder rolls moments after a bolt of lightning rends the night sky in two, throwing a jagged spotlight on the fury written on Shaw’s face when he moves just as fast to grab a fistful of Leto’s collar.  The muscles of his forearm bulge as he holds up the entirety of Leto’s bodyweight in one hand, the sky opening in a sudden downpour as your ex struggles in midair, rain dripping almost comically from dangling feet.

And when Shaw brings Leto’s terrified face up close, the ferocity in those amber eyes sends a chill up your spine.

“This is the last time you’ll ever talk to her, see her, even think about her.  Or else I’ll find you and take my sweet time making you wish you were never born, do you understand me?”

Head bobbing in vigorous nods, drops of water fly off the tips of Leto’s rain-slicked hair.  Seemingly satisfied, Shaw tosses him onto the ground at your feet, voice low yet audible as it cuts through the din of the storm when he says, “Beg for her forgiveness.”

The fear in his expression almost palpable, Leto looks between you and Shaw — cowardice etched onto features you had once found so pleasing a lifetime ago.  He prostrates himself onto the wet pavement, voice cracking in between sobs as he yells over the sound of the rain:

“P-please…please forgive me!  I’m a piece of shit!  I’m nothing, I’m garbage!  I…I deserve to go to Hell for what I did to you!  I-I’m so sorry!  Please forgive me!”

Leto reaches out a shaky hand towards your soaked shoes before he remembers Shaw’s warning, but it is too late.  Black combat boots hit the concrete hard within an inch of Leto’s face as Shaw stoops, yanking back a fistful of hair and pulling until your ex is looking up at you like a pitiful supplicant begging for mercy.

“Satisfied?”  Shaw looks to you as if he were asking about something as mundane as the weather.  You nod, suddenly too tired to even speak.  You wanted to wash your hands of Leto, wanted nothing to do with all that had happened since you finished your shift at the convenience store.  All you could do was watch as Leto scrambled away on all fours the moment Shaw loosened his hold, running until he was nothing more than a speck of darkness merging with the night.

The rain is cold, wetness driving against your body to leech even the final bits of warmth from bone.  Your clothes are drenched, heavy as they cling uncomfortably to skin.  But you are too drained to care, lacking the energy to even notice when the dim light of the streetlamp above is blotted out — Shaw holding his leather jacket over your head in the place of an umbrella.

All you are aware of before your vision goes dark is the anxiety in his voice when he calls your name over and over again, how weightless it felt to be carried in the cradle of his arms.  

How much you missed the scent you thought you had learned to forget.

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

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

You opened your eyes to gaze into irises of warm amber, the situation similar to one you experienced before except for the fact that this time, you were the one lying in bed, staring at a man who sat on its edge, brows knit with concern beneath soft lavender strands.

“If you slept for any longer, I would’ve had to knock on your neighbour’s door.” Shaw chuckles but the sound is hollow, mirthlessness obvious like the blanched knuckles of his tightly clenched fists.

“What…how did we…” You begin, voice raspy as it dies, a sudden sharp pain in your throat making you wince.

And immediately, Shaw is on his feet, rummaging through cupboards in your kitchen until he finds a glass.  You watch him run the tap, fill it to the brim.  Feel the strength of his arm around your back as he holds you up, touch lingering even as you down the water in gulps to chase the discomfort away.

“You passed out not long after your douchebag of an ex ran off with his tail between his legs.  I found your keys in your purse, so I let myself into your apartment — hope you don’t mind.  Although, to be fair, I was also carrying you at the time, so it’s not really breaking and entering.”

Head feeling like it would explode as the events of the evening come rushing back, you turn towards him…slowly…slowly, afraid Shaw might disappear before your eyes should any movement prove too sudden.

Thank him.  Now.  Before he goes away again.

He is close, so close that you can count those long, beautiful lashes; almost feel the minuscule shifts in the air between you every time he blinks — those pupils encroaching onto gold as they expand and pulling you into their depths as they do.

“Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t flinch at your question, and you can’t bring yourself to be shocked by the discrepancy between what you meant to say and the words actually spilling from your lips.  And as the grey memory of days spent counting the hours of his absence settles like lead in the pit of your stomach, the only thing you knew was that your heart couldn’t survive latching onto this sliver of hope only to have it ripped away again.

All you wanted…was the truth.

“Because I can’t stand to see you sad anymore.”

There is no smirk to stretch across that handsome face, only pain that hurts your heart to see it.  Resignation heavy in his voice, Shaw takes a deep breath before he continues.

“Turns out I’m weak when it comes to you.  Selfish.  I know I’m no good for you; there’s no future with me.  I can’t give you anything, can’t even promise you tomorrow, but…I just can’t stop thinking about you.  Wondering how you are.  Whether you’re eating well, sleeping well.  If you’re safe…happy.

“Tonight wasn’t supposed to happen.  I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, that some asshole wasn’t going to hassle you at work.  But then your ex showed up and when he tried to get fresh with you, well…I couldn’t let that slide.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with me but…I’m sorry, if I ever made you sad, if I scared you.  I’m sorry for everything.”

His gaze drops to the rip in his jeans, the drip, drip of the leaky faucet the only sound in the ensuing silence of his confession.  That is, until you say,

“I’m sorry too…that you’re such an idiot.”

His head whips up, brows furrowed and mouth slack as if caught in a rare moment of speechlessness.  The shock makes him seem years younger, lending him an air of innocence that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions.  I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what I would be getting into by being with you.  You say you can’t promise me tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.  All we can ask for — hope for — is the here and now.  

“Love takes courage, as does life.  But a life without love…it’s not much of a life, is it?  So I’m willing to be brave if that’s what it’ll take for us to be together.”

As quickly as they came, the words are gone, leaving you cotton-mouthed and faint as your heart pounds to send the blood rushing to your ears.  That could’ve been the only explanation as to why Shaw’s “I knew there was a reason why I loved you” sounded so muffled you had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Too bad, I only say things once.”

And there it is again: the spark in his eyes, smirk on those lips — igniting the fire you only allowed yourself to feel in dreams of his body on yours, skin to skin like kindling to flame.

“Are you that single-minded about everything?”  You ask, the smile on your face mirroring his as it approaches closer…

“Only when it comes to not letting go of the one I care about.”

…closer…

“Tell me one thing.”  Your voice is barely above a whisper.

…and closer still.

Lips now a hair’s breadth apart, the gentle rhythm of his exhalation blows soft upon your cupid’s bow; a shy request.  Your vision is filled with him, wonderfully awash with colour — lavender, amber, the soft pink of his mouth — and you wished you were the very clothes upon his body; saturated in his intensity, dyed in his hues.

His eyes fixate on your tongue when you wet your lips before asking, “That night, when you were hurt so badly you passed out in my store…why did you still insist on coming in?”

Shaw’s breath catches, hitching in his throat.  You know because you can feel it, the way the warmth stops short on your skin.  And when he speaks, the eyes that hold yours tell you this is no lie.

“Because if it was going to be the last night of my life, I didn’t want to go without seeing your face one more time.”

Love is a funny thing.  Formless, senseless, yet the strongest thing that could bind two strangers.  You hadn’t known Shaw for long, could count the days you spent together on one hand.  And still, entirely without reason, he bled into each and every hour, crept into the darkest corners of your mind to fill your weary heart with a desperation that made it very clear that love was far from done with you.

That right or wrong, the only place you wanted to be was here — held in the arms that wrapped around your body: hot, tight, safe…

…Shaw.

His lips are softer than you ever imagined when he brings his face to yours, plush silk gliding corner to corner to cover your mouth in reverent kisses — one for each night he came into your store, watched over you from afar.  

Your stalwart protector.

You tasted it now, the remnants of cinnamon on his tongue from the gum he was so fond of chewing, intensified by the memory of all the times you wondered about its flavour: pink bubbles popping in his mouth as he coolly dealt with the robber, the night you emptied his pockets as your neighbour stitched him up on your bed.

Shaw tasted sweet.  Far sweeter than you ever imagined.

And when his tongue slides against yours — slow and sure as it explores your mouth with increasing fervour before drawing back just as you clenched around emptiness, yearning for more, the beast within you refuses to abide.

You like the shock that passes over his face when you move, sudden and forceful, to push him onto the mattress beneath you; the artless way Shaw sinks teeth into his bottom lip in response.  You like how he watches as you straddle his hips — gaze earnest and body honest, hardening as you grind undulating circles upon his groin.

But, perhaps most of all, you liked the spark of something wild in those amber eyes, an unpredictability warning that if you weren’t careful, you’d be the one to find yourself pinned to the bed.

Because wasn’t that ultimately the push-and-pull that characterized so much between you and him?  Maddening at times, but always, always binding you to Shaw like some red string of fate.

So you nod when he whispers “May I?”, unable to suppress a moan to finally feel his hands on you: tracing along your jaw, cradling your face…resting the pad of his finger on your lip before pushing past to stroke your tongue.

Every sound he makes pleases; the soft hiss preceding the bob of his Adam’s apple to feel your lips pucker around his finger to suck, pink tongue enticing as it swirls along the length of that digit, drawing it deeper into the hot wetness of your mouth.

You never saw yourself as seductive before, but Shaw made you feel sexy.  Perhaps the impulse stemmed from some primitive desire, an instinctive call to please the man you felt so profoundly for that shame was the farthest thing from your mind when you pulled his hand from your lips to guide it to your breast, only partially aware of how wet you were becoming from his gaze alone — half-lidded and heavy with lust.

The heat of his touch permeates your blouse, white and transparent still in patches from the rain.  You watch his hands as they play: cupping your breasts in a gentle squeeze, thumbs and forefingers catching your nipples to pinch and roll until they stood stiff against the drape of your clothing, the flush of your flesh bold through fabric.

“You’re so beautiful that there are times I think you can’t possibly be real.”

His voice is low, husky.  You let it wash over you, almost frightened by how stupidly happy you become, willing the magic to linger even as his words dissipate amongst the sounds of the night: neon buzzing and the faraway screams of sirens in the distance.

A world apart.

Your hands find the broad expanse of his chest, tracing along muscle before circling the nipples that stood erect against his damp t-shirt.  Each twitch is endearing, every erratic breath he draws to feel your touch making you fall harder.  And when he tries to focus on unbuttoning your blouse while fighting the impulse to tear it clean off your body, the stirring between your legs grows in intensity until he finally pulls the silken panels aside, a quiet gasp escaping his lips to see his necklace nestled between your breasts.

“It really does belong on you.”  

The admiration in his tone is laced with a hint of possessiveness that makes you throb.  Shaw pushes himself to sitting, gathering you onto his lap in one smooth motion as he buries his face in your chest, inhaling deep.  You gasp to feel gentle teeth sink into the flesh of your breasts, Shaw following the chain of precious metal with his lips until it leads to the pendant.  And when his tongue slips out to draw the piece of jade into his mouth, he brings your nipple along with it.

“Oh!…”

The sensation is unlike any you’ve known before, the soft wetness of his pliant tongue a searing contrast with the cool, smooth stone rubbing against the sensitive tip of your breast in equal measure.  You feel his smile on your skin when you fist your hands into lavender hair, spine curving as your legs begin to tremble.

And he had yet to touch you below the waist.

“Your body responds so well to me.  I knew you were a good girl.”  He looks up at you, teasing shamelessly even as he continues to lavish attention on your breasts.

“Just your girl, if you’ll have me,” you say without second thought, long past the point of caring to keep your cards close to your chest.

Something breaks in that expression, the final walls crumbling like dust when Shaw blinks once…twice, revealing eyes that shine with emotion when he replies, “For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

* * *

“Hmm!—”

Your moan is muffled, swallowed by Shaw’s greedy lips like he does with every sound of ecstasy that leaks like you do around his cock, buried impossibly deep in your body as it rocks back and forth, back and forth on his muscular thighs…

…doing your best to adjust to his ample size.

He had barely suppressed a chuckle when you first slipped your hand into his jeans, a subtle mix of pride and amusement on his face to see your eyes widen when you couldn’t quite wrap palm and fingers around the entirety of his girth.

And foreplay had only just begun.

“Still doing okay?” Shaw asks, touch tender as he brushes loose strands of hair from your eyes, lips smoothing along the apple of your cheek to feel its pink heat.  “We can go as slow as you want, there’s no rush.  If it’s too much, we can stop—”

“No!  No…I’m okay.  More than okay, I’m great.  Please…please don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Struggling to string words together, your breath comes in disjointed pants as Shaw begin to thrust up — the look on his face effortlessly sensual when he bites his lip to feel you spasm around him, tight wetness yielding in increments to accommodate his body as it broke new ground.

For you had never taken a man of that size, the litheness of Shaw’s muscular body belying the impressive package he’d been hiding in those jeans.  Your jaw ached just to look upon the length of that thick cock, mouth watering as a fresh wave of arousal made you press your thighs tighter together.  The movement didn’t go unnoticed.  Shaw had drawn you to him then — deft fingers dipping low to trace the outline of your swollen folds through moist panties, lavender head bending to kiss its lacy trim.

He took his time preparing you, licking his fingers before he eased them into your pussy — first one, then two…curling deep until the slippery sounds of arousal told him the time was ripe to introduce the third, leaving you blooming for him even as he whispered, “Think you’re ready for me to make you my girl for real?”

It borders on overwhelming, this sensation of fullness — between your legs, within your heart.  And as skin stretched to capacity to accommodate the sweet friction of his slide, you wished there was a way for the euphoria of this connection to last forever:

To the one you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried.

To this man you loved like no other.

“Shaw.”

His name is faint on your breath when he falls back onto the bed, taking you with him.  And as you found yourself straddling his hips once more, the altered angles of your bodies gave him the leverage to make you gasp when he begins to thrust in earnest.  The eroticism of his face, lost in lust, drives all thoughts from your mind as you drop a hand to your clit, fingers drawing tight circles before his hungry eyes.

The violence of your climax takes you by surprise, having no time to consider neighbours and thin walls as the lewdest sounds escape your lips at high volume.  Intense convulsions wracking your body in waves, you clench in time around your lover.  The sensation proves too much to bear, drawing out Shaw’s own release as he pulls out to spill onto the folds of your pussy — swollen and pink and trembling still beneath the coat of his pearlescent seed.

* * *

“I love you.”  

Morning light trickles across your walls like the slow crawl of spidery legs.  Shaw’s words hang in the air between you, a final, sacred moment shared between lovers before the rest of the world wakes.

You loved the hoarseness in his voice; a testament to the hours of noisy lovemaking you had shared in lieu of sleep.

You loved the weight of his hand, stroking softly at the crown of your head.

You loved the rhythm of his heart, echoing just below your ear to confirm his existence.

“I love you too.”

You look up into those amber eyes, trying to discern whether those four little words were sufficient in conveying that fact that you adored every fibre of the man before you.

The smile that graces his face in return is tender, honest…more brilliant than the day breaking in the East.

Your hands find his body, bare beneath the sheets.  And as a curious finger traces along the ridge of the scar that runs in a broad stroke across his sculpted abdomen, your gaze falls on his t-shirt, draped over the back of a chair.

“You should probably throw that Snoopy shirt away, especially after what happened last night.”

Shaw follows your line of sight, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh.  “Shitty as its previous owner was, I could never bring myself to hate something that reminds me of you.  Aside from saving my ass, this was the first gift you ever gave me.  And I never throw away gifts from my girl.”

His girl.

The mystery of life is that filled with unknowns though it is, we continue to live, brave in the face of the uncertainty that comes with every passing day.  You had no idea what fate had in store for you or Shaw, had no way of knowing if your relationship existed on borrowed time.  

The only thing you were certain of was that your feelings for each other were real, that try as you might, neither of you were very good at forgetting the other.  That in this moment, here and now, the only thing that mattered was this love that hit you…

…like a bolt from the blue.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Thanks so much for reading!  I hope you all enjoyed this Shaw saga! 💖 

Check out more of my work here! 📚 (Please do not repost/copy/alter my work.  Reblogs, on the other hand, are perfectly fine and much appreciated! 💖👍🏼)

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[snarkwrites]

ssw | juice ortiz ; when he can't go any deeper | m

Notes:

Okay so here's the thing.. This is a bit of a glimpse into the future / what if for a fic I'm about to start writing.. well, re-writing. Despite me knowing jack fuckall about strip clubs / exotic dancing / how to describe someone giving or getting a lapdance or pole work, I got the idea to have Hazel working two nights a week in a club, idk why.. Anyway.. The idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are, loves.

Also.. I'm no longer just dipping my toes in the filth pool anymore. I went all in with this, oops rip. If anyone wants me to actually write the fic I have in mind for this... Pls.. I beg.. LMK.

Prompts:

taken from either [ HERE ] or [ HERE ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.

kiss me up against the wall // moan my name as you come // when he can't go any deeper. - those were all the inspiration / prompts for this.

Fandom / Character:

Sons Of Anarchy / Juice Ortiz x Teller Morrow!OFC, Hazel

Fics Hazel can be found in:

None..Yet.

** the one I've used her in is being discontinued to do a rewrite.**

Warnings:

No minors, full stop. There is NSFW / adult content ahead. If you're underage, this was not meant for you -nor should you be reading this. If you choose to stick around after my warnings, this is strictly a you thing and it's not my problem or fault.

If you choose to go on and read this, these are the things present you need to be aware of: stripper!ofc - I admit.. I really am not too sure on how strip clubs operate, so.. if I'm wrong, sorry. lap dancing. thigh riding. body fluids tw. unprotected sex. That's pretty much it.

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@sassymox

@twistnet

Other Stuff:

[ ABOUT MY WRITING | TAG LIST DOC - IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, THAT IS. | FANDOMS I WRITE FOR]

I swear I wanted to melt into the floor when I happened to glance out in the crowd and see Juice Ortiz sitting in the back with his eyes glued to the stage. I froze where I stood behind the curtain peering out and for a good five seconds, I heavily contemplated just bolting out the back door of the club.

But if I did that, I’d be out of the killer tips I’ve been told I could get dancing at this place. I wouldn’t have an outlet to express myself freely, either.

,, I had to know this would happen sooner or later. Charming is a small town and the guys from Samcro do come to this club. Even taking the audition and showing up tonight was me, taking a huge risk… So I had to know this would’ve happened at some point if I actually get the gig.” the thought came and I took three deep breaths. The hope was that I’d center myself.

Spoiler alert… it did not happen.

But I did catch sight of a brunette wig. And I convinced myself that between the wig and the dim lighting and the fact that Juice was so far away from the front of the club where I’d be dancing on the stage, he wouldn’t figure it out.

I’d just finished putting on the wig when the club owner cleared his throat and nodded to the curtains in front of me. “You’re up, kid. Do this right and Tuesdays and Thursdays are yours. Fuck it up and you can forget ever getting a chance to try again.”

I scoffed at him for a second or two but he stared me down, humorless.

My favorite Motley Crue song began to play and I stepped through the curtain. Out onto the stage and just as I did, I happened to see that prick AJ Weston and the guy who bought one of the shops downtown making their way to the table right in front of me.

My stomach dropped.

Those cold and emotionless eyes locked on me and he smirked. Nodding to me and leaning in to the shop owner. His best buddy or whatever. I don’t try and keep up with whose pissed off my father day by day, so I didn’t exactly know names.

All I did know was that for whatever reason, my mother’s scared to death of AJ Weston. She thinks she hides it, but she doesn’t. And my mother is not a woman who scares easily.

Suddenly, my biggest worry wasn’t Juice sitting in the back of the club anymore. It was the prick sitting right in front of the stage. I strutted out on the stage, not bothering to make eye contact with AJ Weston, no matter how hard I could feel him staring at me, willing me to do so. I tore off the cropped leather jacket I wore over my favorite red lace bra and after twirling it in the air a time or two, I tossed it onto the stage, hitting the floor. Writhing. Arching my back and crawling around, whipping my hair around to the song playing. I kept away from the center of the stage because I did not want to lock eyes with AJ Weston. I literally had zero desire.

The crowd was starting to get into it. I started to feel that rush like I used to feel when I danced in Las Vegas. I completely forgot about AJ Weston, thankfully. And what started off as a bumpy dance got smoother. Even more so when I found myself searching the crowd. Finding Juice in the back and locking eyes with him. That seemed to cut out a lot of my nervousness.

My hands drifted down my body, and I caught myself pretending they weren’t my hands but Juice’s. Just the thought of him feeling me up, his hands pinning my hands over my head. Pressing into me. The way he’d feel strained against those baggy jeans when he bucked against me in the heat of the moment. I used my dirty mind to fuel the dance. Letting my hands wander down to the waistband of my leather pants, working them down.

The crowd was really getting vocal now. They usually do when the clothing starts to actually come off. My stomach fluttered nervously when I locked eyes with Juice in the back of the club and I actually saw the way what I was doing on stage was affecting him.

He sat up a little straighter in his seat. Spread his legs a little. Squirming around. He nursed a glass of whiskey and his eyes wandered up and down my body slowly. When I hit the floor and started to writhe around, my back arching and my ass up in the air, he bit his lip. Watching intently. Rubbing his chin in thought.

Out towards the front of the club, right in front of me, I heard AJ swearing. Laughing out loud. I wanted to strangle the asshole, especially when he really got started with all his stupid filthy commentary as if he were mocking me, as if he were somehow better than this place even though he was willingly sitting here, of his own volition… But I went back to blocking him out. Focusing all my attention on Juice all over again instead.

Imagining what I’d do if I truly had half the nerve. What I’d let him do to me if I weren’t so damn afraid of falling in love with a Samcro man.

Because if I were going to love one, I’d choose him. Hands down. If I were ever to settle, I’d want to settle with Juice Ortiz.

My song was nearing an end. My dance was slowing down. I made my way up the pole again, grinding it as I inched up it. Slowly. Seductively as I could... Eyes locked on Juice the entire time as I flipped myself upside down and started to wind around the pole, spinning slowly with my arm outstretched as the other arm gripped the pole to hold myself. And just before the official end of my song, I dropped to the ground, crawling away from the pole. Towards the front of the stage, bolder. Getting closer in the hopes I could at least get a little better look at Juice’s face because I was dying to see the expression on it right now.

I smirked in his direction and gave a teasing wink as I pulled myself off the floor and slunk towards the red velvet curtain separating the back of the club from the front.

“Stormy Knight, ladies and gentlemen. If anyone wants the VIP experience, find Vinnie.” the announcer called out over the rowdy crowd. I was just about to reach for the doorknob on the door that lead into the dressing room when a throat cleared behind me.

“Not bad, kid. If you can bring that every single Tuesday and Thursday, gigs yours.” the club owner was standing there, smirking. He almost looked like he felt bad for doubting me in the first place. He added casually, “Had three guys come to me about VIP dances. I usually leave all that to my girls to work out. That’s extra dough in your pocket, makes no difference to me. I know half of ya have extra mouths to feed.”

I eyed him, my mouth falling open.

“Three guys? Like.. altogether?”

“No, no.. Two were together. One was by himself. Belonged to one of the MCs. Just do me a favor and at least attempt to obey club rules, kid. Don’t go gettin knocked up on the clock.” the man laughed and I took a deep breath.

At best, I figured that the biker in question was probably one of the Mayans I’d seen sitting towards the middle of the club.

I was pretty damn sure I knew exactly who the two men were and after mulling it over because it seemed as if my new boss was awaiting a decision from me, I decided I wanted no part of the risk of having to give AJ Weston and his slimy friend a private show.

“I’ll take the biker tonight, man. I’m not feelin up to a three way.”

The owner nodded and mused thoughtfully, “Good idea, kid.. That one guy out of the two of ‘em looked like his elevator didn’t go all the way to the top floor. I’ll go get your biker and bring him back. You got room 3. That was Gina’s old room.” before walking away, disappearing out into the front of the club again.

“Please god… at least let it be the J.D Pardo look alike if it’s one of the Mayans.” I muttered to myself, not daring to get my hopes up that it’d be Juice.

A throat cleared from behind me. I nearly shit myself when I heard Tig Trager mumble with a laugh, “Okay Ortiz. Go get your girl.” before walking away. I did not dare turn around until I knew Tig was long gone.

“Stormy, huh? That’s one hell of a name, baby girl.” he mused aloud.

I turned around slowly. Found myself body to body with him. He was staring down at me intently, licking his lips. Chuckling as he shook his head and leaned in a little closer to whisper, “Does daddy know you dance, Hazelynn? Because if he’d been here… Seen all that…” he fanned himself and gave me a teasing smirk.

My mouth dropped open.

“How? How’d you know?” I stammered out.

“I saw your car parked outside… Life pro tip, princess.. If you wanna keep this a secret, I’d suggest parking around back. Or catching a ride. Because your car? Kind of hard to forget.” Juice’s hand settled on my hip and he pulled me just a little closer. His eyes dipped down, settling on my lips, a quiet groan coming when his intent stare made me lick my lips and fidget a little.. Melting against him a little before I could stop myself from doing it. Giving a sheepish laugh as I glanced up at him.

“Your secret’s safe with me. Relax.” he chuckled. He must have felt how tense my body was as I pressed against him. I let out a shaky breath. Parts of me wanted to ask the logical question, if he came here a lot, but also, at the same time parts of me definitely didn’t want to know. Those parts of me knew that if I did ask and he said he did, I’d get just a little jealous. Because it already happened whenever I’d see him at the bar and he’d have Croweaters flocking to him.

“Guess I owe you a VIP.” I teased gently, nodding towards the door with the gold star and the black number 3 painted on it. I reached down, grabbing hold of his hand, starting to lead him in the direction of the room.

“If you don’t wanna do this…” Juice frowned slightly and acted like he was going to walk away, but I stopped him. Made him look at me.

“It’s fine. It’s part of the job.” I gave him a reassuring smile as I opened the door to the room, stepping inside. Letting him step inside.

He closed the door behind him and we found ourselves body to body all over again. He muttered quietly, “Confession… I saw that Weston asshole and his idiot friend talking to the owner about a VIP dance with you so I went over and offered more money.”

Between the goofy little shit eating grin he gave me as he said it and the fact that he did that because he knows the guy creeps me right the fuck out, I was blown away. Before I could stop myself, I rose to tiptoe, gently pressing my lips against the corner of his mouth. “You’re an actual angel come to Earth, sir. You have definitely earned that dance.” I muttered softly as I pulled back to look up at him.

He bit his lip and my eyes followed the movement helplessly.

If I thought I was making myself wet on stage with my own dirty imagination, it was nothing compared to how wet I got when I locked eyes with him and realized that he was fully aware that I’d been staring at his mouth like a proper idiot.

I stepped close to him again and placed my palm on the front of his cutte, gently shoving him so that he settled in the chair right behind him.

Right away, his hands went to my hips. I lowered my hands, pushing his hands back down as I shook my head. “No touching. Club rules, Juice.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” he gave an awkward laugh and I giggled softly. Sinking down into his lap slowly.

Maybe I was slightly exaggerating out in the hallway when I told him I could do this and made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. The second I settled in his lap and started to grind against it, I could feel myself dripping just a little more. I rose up slightly and he sucked in a breath. His knuckles went white with the way he was gripping the arms of the chair. His eyes were absolutely glued to me and I smirked. Teasing a little. Acting as if I’d take off the cropped leather jacket over my bra only to pull it back up.

The third time I did this, he growled quietly. Bucked himself against me. When I whimpered and grinded myself down harder against his lap, he muttered in a heated whisper, “You feel what you’re doing to me right now, baby girl?”

Oh. I felt it alright. The way he strained at his jeans, cock still twitching and growing harder and harder. The little friction I was allowing myself wasn’t enough. My cunt was throbbing and I was getting so wet that I was pretty sure when I finished giving him his lapdance the poor guy was going to have a wet spot on his jeans.

“Mhm.” I answered in a daze, leaning in so that my lips brushed against the shell of his ear and my tits rubbed right against him. He whimpered and bucked into me all over again and when I slipped out of his lap, he frowned. I hit my knees, parting his legs. Staring up at him from where I kneeled on the floor and he shifted in his seat, gripping the arms of the chair tighter when I started to rise up. Swaying my hips side to side. Leaning in. Rubbing against him as much as I could get away with. Oh, I was definitely using this little VIP dance he paid for as an excuse to do as much touching and teasing as I thought I could get away with.

All those urges to touch him I normally kept at bay were finally being allowed free reign and it felt so good.

I settled on his lap again. He let out a long and shaky breath and we locked eyes. He was staring at me like he wanted to ask me something or he wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure how.

“What’s up?” I asked quietly.

“Nothin, it’s nothin.” he said it quickly. Too quick. I gripped his cutte and pulled him in closer. My mouth inching dangerously close to his as I muttered against it, “Whatever you want to say, say it. Trust me. I can handle it.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” he muttered. After a second or two of staring at his lap, he looked up at me again and asked quietly, “Did you wanna dance for me?”

“I got the owner to come get you, didn’t I?” my heart was beating faster. I thought it’d jump right out of my chest. I did my best to play as cool and casual as I could but every single part of me wanted to tell him that dancing was not all I wanted to do for him.

“I know that… what I mean is.. Forget it.” he went quiet. Looked down again and I gripped his jaw, making him look up at my face. “Eyes up here, Ortiz.” I teased gently, my smile falling away when I saw the serious and somber look in his eyes. I scooted away a little, an attempt to give him some space. Settling myself over his thigh instead of fully positioned on his lap as I had been.

“Talk to me.” the words left my mouth in a whimper as I pressed myself right against his thigh, rocking my throbbing sex back and forth over it. Getting wetter and wetter with each second that passed. And the ache. Oh god, the ache. I was on the brink of frustrated tears. And I couldn’t break down, I couldn’t act anything less than totally professional, because this was my night job and I was on the clock but God.. did I ever want to.

He spread his legs wider and took a deep breath. Trying not to touch me, but I could tell with the way he kept raising his hands only to put them back down on the arm rests of the velvet covered chair he sat in that he wanted nothing more than to do that very thing.

And the thought of those hands on me had me flooded in a split second. If there was any doubt before that I’d leave a wet spot behind on his jeans at the end of this dance, there wasn’t going to be by the time it was over.

Anticipation and desire had my stomach coiled tightly. I wanted, more than anything, to be able to pick up with this back home… Behind closed doors. Just him and I.

But I knew that tonight was most likely just going to be an awkward little secret. Kept between two friends. And it bothered me, because I wanted so much more than that but I was afraid to cross lines and let myself have that… I doubted it was even an option anyway because I just didn’t think Juice even saw me like that.

Sure, we flirted now and then, but nothing ever came of it.

God, did I want it to.

This heavy tension seemed to settle in all around us and I picked up on it. Juice groaned quietly, and after he nearly broke the no touch rule again and very nearly reached out to grab hold of my ass and rock me against his thigh faster, I leaned in.. Pressed against him as I continued to grind against his leg and muttered against his ear, “Most guys put their arms behind their head… Til they’re used to not being allowed to touch.. They get verbal too…” my words hitching in my throat, rushing out over each other breathlessly.

He raised his hands, locking them behind his head. Sprawling back against the chair. It seemed to help ease the tension built in his body too, because I felt him sort of melting into the chair a little and I smiled.

“C’mon.. Tell me what you want me to do.” I coaxed, fixing my eyes on him and biting my lip when I immediately found myself getting sucked far too deep into his gaze.

“Touch yourself.” he muttered. Raising up a little. Leaning forward. “Touch yourself for me, baby girl… Like you were when you were dancin out front.”

I let my hands wander.

They were shaking slightly and I just hoped to God that it wasn’t noticed.

Juice took a few shaky breaths and bucked a little in the seat. “Come closer.. Get on my lap.”

I moved so that I was straddling his lap and the way his cock strained against his jeans and I tried to stop myself, but as I started to rock myself back and forth over it, I whimpered quietly. My breath caught in my throat a time or two and my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to beat out of my chest.

“I normally don’t buy dances if I come here.” he muttered quietly, shattering through my own current internal struggle.

Knowing this relaxed me a little. It was obvious he didn’t just going off the way he acted, but.. I still wondered. Some guys like to pretend it’s their first lap dance because it gets them going.

I’m not here to judge anyone.

I mean.. I have a good paying day job as a legal assistant and here I am.. Dancing two nights a week whenever I can find a club to take me just so I have some form of release.. Just so I can feel intimacy that for whatever reason, I tend to deny myself in reality.

I almost asked him why, but I remembered what he told me out in the hallway about outbidding AJ because he knew the guy scared me. And I stopped myself, even though parts of me hoped there was more to it than that.

My hands moved over my chest and I rocked myself over him faster. My breath catching in my throat as I felt myself rushing straight into an orgasm I’d been trying like hell to hold back the whole time we’d been in the VIP room.

I could feel my body burning up under his gaze and he leaned in again. Muttered breathlessly against my ear, “If you’re nervous..”

“It’s fine.” I pretended to brush it off. I acted as chill about doing this for him as I possibly could.

“Turn away.. I wanna watch you movin from behind, baby girl.” he muttered. The request caught me by surprise a little, but I kind of realized that he was doing it more for me than for himself.

I did what he asked, turning in his lap so that I faced away. My eyes caught his in the reflection of the mirrored wall in front of us. As I started to rock my ass over his bulge, he growled quietly. Bucking himself up into me. Biting his lip as he did it three more times. Muttered in a lust filled daze “Fuck yeah, baby girl.. Work that ass.”

Just the way he said it had me dripping all over again.

“Faster.” he panted, bucking himself up into me all over again. Harder.

I tried not to, but I found myself imagining that he was taking me from behind. A fist full of my hair and my tits pressed right against the mirrored wall in front of us. And I rocked myself back and forth over his cock, pressing down even harder. Moving even faster. Almost close to a blinding orgasm.

“Fuck.” I swore quietly.

Juice sat up in the chair. Pressing his chest into my back. Muttering against my ear, “ Did you wanna dance for me like this?”

“Juice, I told you already.” my head fell back and my eyes fluttered open and shut. I squeezed my tits and rolled my hips faster. My breath came in short pants because I was so close to an orgasm that I was throbbing. He was leaning in again to whisper. “What I mean is if this wasn’t your job.. And it was just me and you… Would you wanna..” he rocked himself against me all over again. Harder. With more urgency as he swore under his breath and muttered that if I kept it up, he was going to come all over himself.

“ Turn around facin me.” he panted, his lips brushing against my ear and sending a shiver rushing through me. I turned back around in his lap to face him. Raising up a little. Teasing him by putting my tits at level with his mouth. Squeezing them together before lowering my hand. Toying with the waistband of my leather pants. Teasing him like I’d take them off.

“ Tease.” he pouted up at me.

“ That’s kind of what you’re paying me for right now, Juice.” I gave a soft laugh as I tucked a finger beneath his chin. Pulling his mouth dangerously close to mine. He licked his lips in anticipation and when he did, his tongue brushed right against my mouth. I whimpered helplessly.

And I just barely kept myself from exploding.

“You’re tensin up on me, Haze… Somethin wrong?” Juice asked quietly.

Looking at me as if he were bracing himself for something bad to be said.

By this point, I was so caught up in the moment, in the way it felt to grind myself against his cock and get out all these long denied urges to touch him to my hearts content.. It slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Honestly? I’m a breath away from coming and this never.. Ever… happens to me when I’m givin a private dance.” my words came in a breathless rush and as soon as I realized what I’d just said, I lost my groove for a second or two. Slowing down. Trying to pull myself together.

Hoping to God that I didn’t just make things awkward for him and I in the future because I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.

His mouth opened and closed and his hands gripped the arm rests again. Tighter.

“Do you know how hard it is for me? Feelin you dancin on my cock like this? Knowin I.. Knowin that this is probably as close as I’m ever gonna get? Fuck… If I were ever lucky enough to have you all to myself, baby girl...”

His words caught me by surprise. My heart fluttered a little and I swallowed hard. Going still in his lap just to stare at him.

The lights getting brighter and the music in the room going quiet had both of us jumping apart. I realized that probably meant my time in the room was done and before I could give myself a chance to back out, I slipped off his lap and held out my hand to him.

“ C’mon.”

He eyed my hand and took hold of it, standing. I practically drug him out of the room and then down the hall. Out the door and into the back lot behind the club. Once the door was shut behind us, I started to pace in front of him. Just trying to put it all together.

Torn between continuing to fight what I felt for him and caving in.

When he stepped in front of me and placed his hands on my upper arms, staring down into my eyes intently, something in me snapped and before I could stop myself, I had his back pressed against the door of the building. My hands caught his, holding them over his head as I rose up slightly and crashed my mouth against his mouth.

Devouring. Hungry.

At first, he didn’t really react. But when the shock cleared and he realized what I was doing, he came alive. I melted against him and he growled into my mouth, deepening the kiss. Teeth latching onto my bottom lip and tugging until I felt it starting to bruise. I let his hands go and they were all over me. Settling on my ass. Rocking me up against him and making me whimper and dig my fingers into his shoulders. I couldn’t melt into him any more if I tried. I was so exhausted from trying to hold back in more ways than one at this point that my filter was totally shot. I rocked myself against him clumsily, a begging and needy whine filling the space between our mouths as the kiss broke when I just couldn’t hold it back.

“Do you know why I almost got off giving you a lap dance? Do you know what you do to me, Juice? I.. I tried so hard not to fall for you and yet.. Here I am.”

He blinked in shock. For a few seconds we stared at each other, panting for our next breath. Neither of us saying a word.

Then he bent and scooped me up. Started to carry me towards the end of the alley where he’d parked his Dyna Glide.

I didn’t do or say anything to try to stop him. I didn’t want to.

I’m so tired of keeping him at arms length. I’m tired of fighting the way I feel.

He sat me on the back of his bike and I grabbed hold of the front of his vest, pulling him down. Pulling his mouth down against mine all over again because I just.. I was needy. I craved him on this level I couldn’t even begin to get my head around.

His bike came to a stop in front of his apartment building and he got off. Scooping me up all over again. Stopping just outside the doors leading into the building to grope and kiss me. Letting his lips stray down the side of my neck. Sucking a mark deep into my skin. I clung to him and begged breathlessly, “Juice, please..”

Neither of us was really stopping to think. I didn’t want to.

I wanted him.

More importantly, I wanted to be with him. And tonight just proved to me that I couldn’t fight it anymore.

The whole time he was trying to unlock his apartment door, he kept fumbling with the keys. Rutting right against me. Stopping to kiss or touch me. When he finally got it unlocked, he stepped through the door and stepped over to the couch. Tossing me down onto it gently. Following close behind. Pressing himself down into me and snapping his hips against mine, making me whimper. My whimper echoing off the walls of the quiet room. I reached down between us, tugging at the hem of his white t shirt and he rose up, pulling off his vest and tossing it at a chair nearby. Then pulling his shirt off and tossing it too. It settled on the floor in front of the chair. Then he was pulling me up. Tearing my bra away and tossing it out into the room. My hands lowered, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and he bit his lip. Gazing at me for a second or two with this look of lust and adoration in his eyes. Savoring the moment and what was about to happen.

Because it’s been building for a while, apparently. I just focused so damn hard on keeping myself from caving in and letting myself have what I wanted, with him, that somehow, I missed all the signs.

“Baby, c’mon.” I begged.

The term of endearment slipped out.

He gave me that little smirk. Rubbed his chin in thought as he let his eyes wander.

He worked his way down my body, using his body to part my legs. He worked my leather pants down my legs and I kicked them free at my ankles.

His fingers caught in the thin strap of my panties and they came away with a quiet tear. I tried to get him out of his pants again and he lowered my hands. Slipping off the sofa. I watched intently as he teased me, pouting about it. Begging.

I needed him buried inside me. Fucking me. Slow. Deep. All night long.

His pants fell to his ankles and he kicked off his boots and then kicked his pants free from his legs. When he dropped his boxers, I swallowed hard as my eyes settled on the way his cock stood at attention once it was free from fabric. He was pressing himself down into me all over again.

His mouth roaming over my tits. Tongue teasing my nipples as my back arched away from the sofa and I rocked myself against him. His free hand settled between us, circling his thick cock. Teasing it between my folds and making me shiver and cling to him. Try to rock myself against him urgently.

And then he buried his cock inside me. Shallow at first. Going still to let me adjust to him. I felt like I was being split in two and the feeling had me whining. Nipping at his chest, at any patch of skin I could get my mouth on just so I could muffle the way I wanted to scream his name at the top of my lungs.

I rocked into him clumsily and he growled quietly. His hands going down to my hips. Holding them still as he started to pound me harder. Deeper. So deep he couldn’t go any deeper. When he bottomed out, I dragged my nails down his back.

“Not yet, baby girl. C’mon, hold out just a little longer for me.” Juice coaxed breathlessly as his hips crashed against me with a bruising pace. I begged for release, on the verge of tears. The more I begged, the more he’d slow down. Stop to kiss me or leave marks on me. Torture.

Slow, steady and deep torture.

“You gonna moan my name when you cum?” he questioned, slamming his cock deep into my womb. Going still and capturing my mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. “ God. You’re so.” he panted, snapping his hips against mine, cock pistoning in and out of me with steady deep thrusts, “So fuckin wet I can barely stay in. Fuck. Shit. Shiiiit, baby girl. I wanna cum so bad.”

“Juice! Ah, -ah fuck. Right there.” my back arched away from the couch and my orgasm ripped through me, leaving me weak and dazed, clinging to him as I tried desperately to keep up with his pace, spent. Dripping. My walls vising his cock and clenched around it. Tears flooding my eyes because holy fuck, all I’ve wanted for the entire time was to finally be allowed to let go.

Juice stared down at me from above, a soft gaze. He caught a tear as it made a black trail down my cheek. Chuckling quietly. Going still to pepper kisses soft against my mouth and then trail them down the front of my throat. When he started to move again, he muttered against my lips softly, “It’s okay, baby girl. I got you. I’m right here.” as he pistoned in and out, the wet sloshing sounds accompanying each thrust he made seeming to make him move just a little faster. His hands were all over me and all I could really do was lie there, pinned beneath him. Whimpering his name as I tried to come down from the high. Stare up at him softly as my mind spun, replaying every single thing that led us here, to this exact moment.

“Oh fuck. Fuck baby girl. You want it?” his hips stammered, smashing against mine in a bruising pace and his words were swallowed by another hungry kiss and I nodded. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he did. Striking against my throbbing g-spot a time or two and growling, biting. Locking his lips against my neck and sucking yet another big,deep mark into soft flesh. The warmth of his release flooded me, making me whimper. Overfilling me, because I could feel the excess slowly leak down. Puddle beneath me on the sofa.. I bucked my hips against him greedily trying to take it all because I wanted it. I needed it. I craved him so badly I couldn’t have put it to words if I tried. He leaned into me heavily, panting for his next breath. Spent. A fine sheen of sweat gathered on our bodies. I grabbed hold of his face and pulled his mouth against mine. Our foreheads pressed together and he muttered quietly, “Mine?”

“Yours.” it shocked me when the word bubbled out. It shocked me because a, I was saying it and b, I meant it. With everything in me. As soon as I said it, he gave me a soft and lazy grin. Pressing his lips to my forehead. He collapsed onto the couch settling behind me. Pulling me on top of him.

Quiet little soft kisses. Caressing my face as he stared up at me and caught sight of one of the bigger marks he left on my throat, grimacing as he chuckled about it quietly.

“Fuck me. Baby, that was amazing...” I groaned out in a daze, making him laugh and gaze up at me. “Give me an hour, babe.” he teased…

“Careful. I might take you up on that.” I teased back, melting against his body. Letting his arms wrap around me and hold me tight.

[shoutogepi]

As Long as You’re Safe

Bakugou Katsuki

word count : 2.1k smol boi (blurb!)

[ ☁︎, ☀︎ ]  

themes : Soooo not really sure what to call this?? Kinda angst?? But super fluff ending :3

blurb : They are fighting a villain who has the ability to see into their opponent’s memories, and also convey scenarios and images into their opponent’s mind, making them feel like real life. The villain accesses their memories of you, and realizes that that is a very weak spot.

author’s note : idk i felt like I needed a fluff sponge to clean up that nasty first post haha so heres my best janitorial work!

    ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he air whipped past Bakugou’s face, eyes turning into venomous slits as he finally was able to see the villain he had been called in to handle. He had been on patrol on the other side of the area, but when his sidekick didn’t respond to his messages, a gut feeling had urged him to come as backup. The agency had called when he was already halfway there, confirming his suspicion.

This was the guy? Tch. Bakugou snarled at the thought of this wimp being able to beat, well, anyone. The guy was slender and looked like he had almost no muscle or body fat. But he had to have a good quirk if he had taken out a handful of people already, so Bakugou regarded him with careful contempt. The explosions in his palms stopped as he fell from the third story of the building he’d been perched on, hurtling toward the ground.

“Hey asshole,” Bakugou yelled as his boots touched the pavement of the sidewalk. He stretched his palms in a wicked manner, cracking his neck in a swift motion.

The villain turned, a look of disgruntled annoyance simmering to the surface of his face. A malicious smile overtook his thin lips, and a glint in his eye made Bakugou growl. The man faced him directly now, and the terrified pedestrian he had been toying with sobbed as they ran towards the safety of the crowd gathering a respectable distance away. Bakugou grimaced as he noticed the limp body of his sidekick, sat up against one of the storefront’s flower barrels with closed eyes and a pained expression. From just a glance, he could tell they were alive… but they probably didn’t feel too great.

“Ground Zero,” the spindly man smiled, but to Bakugou it looked more like he was baring his teeth like a rabid dog. “How nice of you to grace me with your presence! I didn’t know little old me could pull in a top hero.”

Bakugou barked a short laugh. “You only got me ‘cause of sheer luck, dumbass. I have no clue who you think you are, but you’re about to be very well acquainted,” he paused, rolling his right wrist for dramatic effect,” with my fists.” 

He expected a range of reactions from the villain. He had been doing this pro-hero gig for awhile now, so he’d learned the ropes-- and this guy didn’t seem like the type to have an ass-whooping quirk, so he could most likely afford to physically attack.

“Now that is an interesting game plan, Bakugou,” the villain stated, voice dripping with rancor. His words shocked Bakugou for a moment, and just as a thought formed in his mind, the slender man vocalized it. “Oh shit, this fucker can read me like a book,” the man paused, an amused smile on his face,” wow, you have quite a way with words.”

“Tch. I don’t care if you’re in my head asswipe, ‘cause your skull is about to be crushed into the ground,” Bakugou replied, foot planting behind himself and getting ready to pounce.

“Hmm, are you sure? Will you treat me roughly?” the man continues seamlessly, making Bakugou’s eyes widen in confusion. Treat him rough? Who the hell does this guy think he is? Was he hitting on him? The villain’s smile only broadened, the sneer on his mouth flushing Bakugou’s stomach with dread. “At least, as rough as your girlfriend likes it?”

Bakugou’s mouth dried at his words, body stuttering as he processed the them. Why the fuck was this freak talking about Y/N?

“Y/N, yes-- what an extravagant creature. I wouldn’t have pegged her as someone who likes to be choked. Are you sure you can handle fighting me? It seems like you had an exhausting night, and rest is important for the body.”

Bakugou’s breath is stolen out of his lungs, his wide eyes turning into furious crescents at the villain’s words. That was private! The villain’s words automatically triggered his memory, even if he was trying his best to push the image away. You, underneath him last night, shaking and whimpering and making that irresistible expression as he fucked you raw. A light blush bloomed on his cheeks at the recollection, but he shoved it away as fast as he could. His eyes met the villain’s again, but this time, the shadowy figure’s features had morphed into a terrifying grin, eyes bulging out of his skull with disgusting delight.

“Oh, thank you so much for sharing that with me. Maybe I’ll try out choking her myself!” he laughed, voice oozing with excitement as he wrung his hands together.

Bakugou snapped out of his surprised state, shaking his head and clenching his eyes shut. He just had to wreck his loser and then he could go home to you.

Nothing could prepare him for what happened next. He looked back up at the villain, and his stomach plummeted fifty meters into the concrete below him as he registered the horrific scene.

The villain was standing in the exact same spot, but he had his arms wrapped around your throat. You were trapped in his hold, big desperate eyes full of tears that slid down your cheeks and fingers clawing futilely at his hold. You were wearing that maroon lingerie from last anniversary that drove Bakugou wild, your hair clinging to your wet chin as you sobbed. The noise was enough to make Bakugou’s knees shake, his heart felt like it had leapt into his throat.

“S-Suki,” you whimpered, slicing his heart into two.

Bakugou’s lips trembled at your cry, his hands clenching into fists at his side. His voice was much softer now, and he was surprised to find it didn’t break,” Let her go.” His feet planted square, he stared down the villain with a burning determination, steam practically pouring out of his nostrils.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” the man chided, one hand leaving your delicate throat and sliding down your chest. Bakugou’s fingernails broke into the flesh of his palms as the villain’s hand ran over your breast, lingering there as he gauged Bakugou’s reaction. The choked sob that came from you made Bakugou see red.

Bakugou stepped forward but immediately regretted it as the villain’s hand on your throat turned white. He watched in horror as you sputtered, face turning pink at the exertion of wriggling in his hold, grasping at his hand to no avail. “Stop! Please!” he yelled, throwing his hands up in front of him and taking a step back.

“Ground Zero!” Bakugou’s eyes hesitantly left your figure for a moment, trying to find the source of the shout. It sounded like someone was calling him, but from somewhere far away… or like he was underwater. He looked around, realizing the crowd of onlookers had vanished, and the unconscious body of his sidekick was gone as well. Actually, you three were the only people on the busy Japan street.

Just like that, the gears click into place. Looking back at the villain, his rage bubbling inside, he snarled and pushed his body off the pavement, explosions dancing on his palms to seal the gap swiftly.

The villain looked irritated at being found out, but that didn’t stop him from snapping your neck. Bakugou tried not to look at you, but the thought that you had been real just a moment ago made his chest tight as your gaze glazed over and your body slumped to the ground. He screamed as he drew back his fist, concentrating his power on his hand just as it connected with the spindly man’s jaw. His head flew backwards, a sick crack sounding as his body was flung into the air behind him.

Bakugou landed on his feet, and braced himself for a second as he closed his eyes. Not real, not real, she is not real. Opening his eyes, he looked at the spot your crumpled body should have been, only to find that it was empty. He breathed out a sigh of relief, attention sliding back to the unconscious villain in the middle of the road. He ignored the cheers erupting from the crowd behind him, feet moving on their own accord toward the villain’s figure to finish the job.

It was hell waiting to get back to you. Bakugou had to wait for the police to show up and take the loser off his hands, then he had to pretend he was fine and sign a thousand autographs, and then to top it all off, he had to take his damn sidekick back to the agency across town. The suspense was killing him. Even if he knew that it was stupid… a small, okay-- maybe large-- part of him needed you in his arms, and to know you were truly alright.

After he was done with the agency, he nearly ran all the way home. Using his quirk to shoot himself through the starry cityscape, the wind rushing through his hair, his chest still felt just as tight as it did earlier. It seemed like an eternity had passed as he finally planted his feet on the sidewalk, hand grabbing the main entrance door and nearly ripping it off its hinges. The security guard barely had time to recognize him and buzz him in, and he sure as hell didn’t bother with a “good evening”. He beelined past the elevator, instead opting to dart into the stairwell and propel himself up to the sixteenth floor with his quirk.

His legs couldn’t carry him fast enough, and he dashed through the hallway with urgency. His eyes finally landing on the door, he prayed it was unlocked because he really did not want to blast through the lock but damn it, he might just have to. He nearly cried as he jiggled the door handle, confirming his fear. His palm on the metal handle, he closed his eyes and wondered if you would kill him for blasting through another locksmith’s fine work.

But then the handle turned ninety degrees, and the door cracked open to reveal your bare face, hair looking frazzled as you blinked at him.

“Suki!” your plump lips split into a joyous grin and Bakugou’s soul almost left his body in sheer relief. You pulled him into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and wrapping your soft arms around his torso. “I was so worried about you! I saw the end of your fight on the news, are you okay?”

Bakugou couldn’t say any words, his throat felt thick and his eyes stung as he crushed you into his chest. His head hanging down to sniff your precious head, his lungs rattled as he tried not to burst into tears. You fit so perfectly in his arms, he couldn’t help but thank the universe that you’re safe, and you’re here, holding onto him tightly as he barely kept it together.

You frowned at his silence, but you decided to comfort him anyway because he seemed like he really needed it. Your fingers brushed along his spine as he clutched onto you, gathering his emotions. You weren’t used to seeing him so choked up, but you knew there must be some reason as to why he’s so silent. “It’s okay, baby,” you whispered, making a small sigh fall from his lips.

He finally looked you in the eye, and your stomach fluttered with butterflies at his expression. “I love you, Y/N,” he mumbled, warm hands taking your face and pressing your lips to his. You hummed happily against his mouth, hands lacing behind his neck in compliance. He pulled away, one last shred of doubt left to address. “Are you okay?” he inquired quietly, almost bashfully. His gaze was directed to the collar of your shit that his thumb was playing with, and you took his jaw in your hands to make him look at you.

His scarlet eyes looked so concerned and scared, your heart ached for him. “Of course I’m okay Katsuki,” you answered, looking at him deeply,” I have you to protect me!” A small smile adorned your lips as your nails scratch gently at his scalp. “Are you okay, my love?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up adorably as he tried to put on his brave face for you. “I’m okay,” he whispered, eyes closing as his lips touched your forehead gently,” as long as you’re safe.”

    ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

masterlist (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 

please stop by and say hi!! i’d love any feedback <3 thanks for reading!!

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

Fictober ‘21 Prompt No. 1 — “I need you.”

Category: Original WIP: WASTE Rating: T Timeline: Not too long after Guetry has been implanted with Scotty CW: None Word Count: 1,142 Additional Notes: I love exploring the relationship between these two.

***

Guetry stared through the opening of the mine shaft, flat on his back across austere stone. His eyes were not focused on the night sky painted with diamonds and the rich purple of wines made in his vineyard, as it would have appeared to a bystander. His attention was, instead, zeroed in on the small hole in the visor of his helmet, currently sending the HUD into hysterics and draining him of air with each passing second.

“S...Scotty,” he choked.

“You have twenty minutes before asphyxiation,” Scotty said. Matter-of-fact, directly in his ear, as always. Even in the face of fatality. “I cannot seal the breach as my connection to your equipment has been severed.”

Despite the situation, his cadence did somewhat have a soothing effect.

Guetry closed his eyes and reached up to assess the extent of the damage to the helmet. “What do I do?” he asked. His chest heaved under the breastplate of his armor as he attempted to steady his breath and not waste what little oxygen he could get. “What...what do I do? What button, what switch...?”

“I have no connection to your team.” Scotty sputtered violet in the corner of Guetry’s eye. “Other than the automatic distress signal that went out as soon as your visor sustained damage.”

“Shit...shit.” Guetry rolled himself onto his side, scrambling for purchase on solid ground. “Twenty m—twenty minutes. Twenty minutes.”

“There’s been some trauma to your implant as well, as I’m certain you can discern for yourself.”

Guetry’s frantic gaze darted around the shaft, desperate for an escape or something to close the breach before he blacked out. “Scotty...please stop telling me things that are up—upsetting to me.”

“The fall into the mine cracked the back of your helmet open. The damage is permanent.”

“What the hell did I just say,” Guetry wheezed. He yanked the helmet off his head with shaking hands and threw it farther into the mine.

“Are you in pain?”

“I don’t know. I can’t feel most of anything right now.” Guetry took a few sharp breaths. “You gotta keep me going until someone gets here, or until I get out of here, whichever comes first.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Guetry tried to drag himself closer to the entrance, but his arms had already begun to fail him. “Scotty, I don’t plan on dying today. Keep...keep my brain alive or something. Do literally anything.”

“My designation doesn’t work in that way. I can’t sustain you when there isn’t sufficient oxygen.” Scotty paused as Guetry gave up in the center of the opening and collapsed onto his stomach. “I also don’t think I made myself clear. I’m unable to access life support.”

Guetry went still. “Do something.”

“Guetry—”

“I need you. Please.”

Scotty once again fell silent. “I will attempt to contact your team again.”

With strength he was surprised he had at the moment, Guetry pushed himself onto his back. “Hey, if I...” He broke out into a hacking cough as his lungs strained to sap oxygen out of the air. “If I don’t make it, send my sisters...and my dad a message.”

“When I am tethered to you, the event of your death will permanently deactivate me.”

Nodding, Guetry swallowed. He opened the front pouch of his supply kit and withdrew a flare. “Tell my sisters and my dad that I love you.”

“You love...them?”

Guetry ripped the packaging of the flare open with his teeth, the edges of his vision turning black. He took a couple shallow breaths. “Yeah. We can pretend that’s what I meant.”

He raised the flare and fired it straight through the opening of the mine. A single flash of red light exploded upward, carried a bit by the gaseous wind of the planet’s surface before disappearing into the sky.

“Think they saw it?” Guetry asked weakly, hand dropping onto his chest.

Scotty didn’t answer.

Guetry's eyes grew heavy. “Don’t...don’t give up on me. Not now.”

“I could say the same.”

“Say it, then.”

“Don’t give up on me, Guetry.”

Guetry watched a dark blur move over the mine entrance. The words echoed in his mind repeatedly until he was no longer conscious.

---

He awoke again in a bed, clocking before he even opened his eyes that he was in a med fac somewhere. He’d been in enough of them to pinpoint them by smell alone.

Dazia’s tired face turned to him from her spot in the chair across the room. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Oh, shit,” Guetry groaned, bringing a ginger touch to his forehead as a headache slammed into him with the force of a meteor.

“Good to see you, too, jackass.”

“Did you pull me out of that mine?” Guetry peeked at her through his fingers, avoiding the harsh light.

Dazia nodded. “Yep. Your little stunt sent Tux into a panic spiral so I had to pick up the slack.”

“It did not,” the nuaclan said from the other side of the room.

Guetry laughed even though it hurt his throat. “The only thing that would send Tux into a panic spiral is if someone took so long to get rid of my body that it implicated her.” He turned to look at her with a grin. “Ain’t that right, baby girl?”

Tux rolled her eyes, but the smirk stretching across her wide face said enough. “Idiot.”

“They had to take Scotty for a bit,” Dazia said. “It won’t be for much longer. NodeSource fixed your implant—they’re just running diagnostics to make sure everything’s square.”

“Okay. That explains the migraine.” Guetry nodded, a hand coming up to his temple on instinct. His fingers knocked into the cable leading out of his port and into a terminal next to his bed, likely operating to take over a fraction of what Scotty maintained. “He deserves a wellness check.”

When they were united later, after his doctor and a NodeSource technician made sure everything functioned normally and after Guetry had started a game of solitaire on his bed, he sighed into the empty room, eyes following the cable attaching him to the computer.

“Is everything alright?” Scotty asked.

“Yeah, man.” Guetry sniffed. He turned a card over. “Just...hope you don’t make a habit out of scaring me.”

He detected a hint of hesitation. “I won’t.”

“...I guess I owe you an apology, too.”

“Not for doing your job, you don’t.”

Guetry cracked a small smile. “I could say the same.”

“Then say so.”

He glanced through the two-way viewscreen affording him a look out into the hospital corridor while granting him privacy. Doctors, nurses, and patients milled about, some in more of a hurry than others.

“I’ll do my best not to worry you too much,” he finally said.

“Worry is not within my programming.”

“Nah.” Guetry’s smile widened. “Don’t buy it.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while.

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Four

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: None

Taglist: @dragonballluver (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Previous

“27 down is ‘falafel.” 

Alfred looked up, shooting a glare at Demetria. Her lips curved into a childish grin. 

“The bloody hell is a falafel?” he asked, unamused at the word. 

“It’s a fried ball made up of chickpeas and beans. It’s actually delicious.” 

He shook his head. “You Americans and your fried food.” He returned his gaze back down to the Gotham City crossword. Demetria snuck another glance at the crosswords, looking for another one she knew right off the bat. 

“14 across is ‘David Cassidy.’” 

The old man shot her another dirty look. She shrugged her shoulders, desperately trying to hold in her laugh. “I’m sorry.” 

Across the yacht, Bruce shifted his attention from the newspaper he was reading and watched the two with an amused smile on his lips. None of the girls he ever brought home acknowledged Alfred (with the obvious exception of Rachel) and if they did it was to ask for something. Demetria had made an effort to get to know and befriend the old man, knowing how much Alfred meant to Bruce. Their friendship and playful banter was something Bruce could get used to for years and years to come. 

Demetria made eyes with Bruce and walked over to him, her white babydoll dress blowing with the wind. She pat his legs, motioning him to scooch over. He obliged and she curled up against him, propped up on his lap.

“You looked a little lonely over here,” she said. 

He smirked. “You pushed Alfred to his breaking point, didn’t you?”

“I forget how seriously that man takes his crossword puzzles.” 

The couple chuckled as Demetria played with Bruce’ slick back hair. The salty aroma filled her nose as the noise of waves crashing against the yacht filled her ears. 

“Feels so good out here,” she sighed. “Definitely one of your better ideas.”

“My better ideas? Since when did I ever have an idea that wasn’t good?”

“The one time you took me to that new restaurant and I got food poisoning.” 

He laughed, the memory coming back to him. She refused to let him see her in such a state, but he came over anyway to make sure she was hydrated and functioning. 

Needless to say, they never went back there and he owed her big time.

Bruce lifted the newspaper up and continued reading, Demetria reading along with him. 

“Anything interesting going on back home?” she asked. 

“Nothing but the usual mobster activity and an editorial piece about the overwhelming amount of Batman copycats.” 

She hummed. “I can’t help but wonder if Batman feels bad about the copycats.”

“I’m sure it gets annoying after awhile.”

“Do you think he feels responsible for them?”

There are times he wants to tell her he’s Batman, but he wants to keep her away from that part of him. He’s been successful so far, why bother bringing her into it now?

Then she changed the subject.

“What’s this?” She pointed at a section of the paper. “‘Witnesses say clown robbed downtown city bank?’”

Bruce took a quick glance at it. “Must be about that bank robbery downtown from yesterday.” He looked over at her to find a disgusted look on her face. “What?”

“I just...clowns...ugh.” She shivered. “Doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You’re afraid of clowns?”

“How could you not be? They’re creepy. Didn’t you ever see ‘It’ or ‘Poltergeist’?”

He chuckled. “They’re not that bad.”

“Well they scare the shit out of me.”

“So I should cancel the clown I hired for our wedding?”

She slapped his arm. “You’re an ass.”

Bruce set down the newspaper. “Speaking of the wedding, I was wondering if you had any ideas or preferences in terms of location?”

She shook her head. “Zero. You?”

He cleared his throat. “I was thinking Wayne Manor.”

Her eyes lit up, a huge smile slapped across her face. “I would love that!”

“Really?” He cocked his head back.

“Yeah! I mean the property is beautiful, plus it’s something that would be comfortable and simple for us.” 

“You’re sure you want to do it at Wayne Manor?” Bruce asked. 

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Babe, we could go to city hall and get it done and I would still be the happiest woman alive. I don’t care how we get married, I just want to be with you.”

While he never needed a reminder of why he loved her, it was times like these that did. He’d never come out and say it, but underneath the wealth and the vanity he used to mask an protect his true self, he valued the simple things that money could never buy. Demetria shared those same values. Both longed for a quiet and intimate life together which was more than enough. 

“I only ask two things,” Demetria said. 

“Anything.” 

“One, we plan this together. This our day, not just mine and not just yours. It’s ours.” 

“Not an issue at all.” 

“Two, this wedding is as small as possible.” 

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s done deal.” 

As they leaned in for a kiss, the sounds of the helicopter landing drew their attention from each other. They watched as it made a graceful landing. 

“The plan has arrived for you sir!” Alfred called out. 

Demetria pat Bruce’s knee as she got up. “Have fun breaking off this deal in China.” 

Bruce threw off his white shirt, handing it to her.  He grabbed the duffle bag and threw it overboard. 

“Please be careful, Bruce.” 

“For you, I will.”

He gave her a quick kiss before diving into the water. She watched as he swam over to the helicopter before climbing aboard.

She watched as the helicopter flew away before turning to Alfred. 

“What number are we on, Alfred?” 

“Eighteen across. The clue is ‘Get your own bloody crossword.’” 

_____________________________________________________________

A couple days later, Demetria found herself at the entrance to St. Swithin’s Home For Boys. She was grateful the orphanage had taken her call and allowed her to come visit. 

She made her way to front desk area, smoothing out her pants. She smiled at the elderly nun at the desk. 

“Hi, I’m Demetria Gallagher,” she greeted. 

The nun smiled back. “Hello there! We’ve been expecting you! My name is Sister Agatha. You’re here for the tour, correct?” 

“Yes! I was hoping to speak with the Mother Superior or Monsignor O’Malley.” 

“Unfortunately both were unable to make it due to prior commitments; however, they asked that Sister Mary Ellen give you the tour.” 

“Sounds great!”

“Please a seat while I phone her.” 

Demetria sat in the bench across from the desk, eyeing around the orphanage. It’s old age was definitely showing. She made mental notes of the broken down wood, the cracks in the wall, and the lingering dust. Her mother would love a project like this. 

“Miss Gallagher?” 

Demetria looked up to find a nun in her late thirties with kind brown eyes and a welcoming smile. “My name is Sister Mary Ellen. How do you do?” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Demetria said reaching out her hand. 

Sister Mary Ellen shook it. “A pleasure to meet you as well. We’re so excited you’ve taken an interest in the orphanage.” 

“Bruce has told me so much about this place and I’ve always wanted to come see it for myself.” 

“The Wayne Family is such a big part of the orphanage’s history. Bruce has been so generous to us in the past.” 

Sister Mary Ellen first took her to the library, named in memory of Martha, Bruce’s mother. Despite it’s broken state, the walls were covered in old books stacked in the shelves. 

“Not a lot of boys spend time in here,” Sister Mary Ellen said. “We’ve been trying to get them to, but some are harder to persuade than others.” 

“Understandable,” Demetria assured.

Next was the kitchen, then the chapel, and then some of the dorms. While the building was historic, its structure and the components inside were out of date and almost out of function. 

There were a a good amount of kids staying in and they deserved a better home. 

“May I ask you something?” Sister Mary Ellen questioned. 

“Of course.” 

“There’s been a lot of talk amongst the nuns about what it is you plan to do and I just...well...what is your intention exactly?” 

Demetria chuckled. “It’s ok. I can completely understand the curiosity.” She sighed. “Bruce has always told me how much this place has meant to him, especially after the death of his parents. I know it’s hard for Bruce to give attention to this place and so I wanted to step in and make sure you’re getting not only what you and the boys need, but what you deserve. You all deserve to be living in better conditions and I can guarantee you Bruce agrees with me.” 

“What is it you can do for us?” Sister Mary Ellen asked. 

“My mother works as an interior designer and would be more than happy to help redecorate. I also know a lot of people who can help make sure this place is functioning properly and is up to all health code standards. I want to make sure you all are taken care of and are given the attention you all deserve.” 

Sister Mary Ellen couldn’t help but smile. “What about finances? I know the monsignor and Mother Superior would ask to be kept apprised.” 

“They would be. That’s something I’m currently working on, but I want to know what I’m at least working with here.” She smiled. “Although, my mother would do this for free. I know that for certain.” 

Sister Mary Ellen chuckled. “Let me take you outside.” 

She led Demetria to playground where Demetria noticed four boys playing basketball. She couldn’t help but notice that no matter how hard they tried to dunk the ball in the chain basket, they kept missing. 

“May I?” Demetria asked. 

“By all means.” 

Demetria made her way over to the boys. One boy had black hair with blue eyes, another was African-American with glasses, another boy had blonde hair and freckles, and one with brown hair with glasses.   

“Hey guys!” Demetria greeted.

The boys stopped and looked at her. “You guys playing basketball?” 

They looked at each other, confused and unsure what to say. She cleared her throat. “My name’s Demetria.” 

“I’m Travis,” the boy with black hair said. 

“I’m Jonathan,” the African-American boy said. 

“I’m Reid,” the boy with blonde hair said. 

“I’m Harry,” the boy with brown hair said. 

“Nice to meet you all,” Demetria said. “So what are we playing here? One-on-one or Horse?”

“Just some one-on-one,” Reid answered with a shrug. 

“You know how to play?” Harry asked. 

“A little. My dad was a high school basketball coach so he taught me a few things. Can I see the ball?” 

Travis passed her the ball. She dribbled it for a bit before shooting the ball into the basket. The boys stared in amazement, letting out some “whoa”s. 

“Alright, so who wants to be able to dunk a ball?” she asked. 

They all raised their hands. “That’s exactly what I thought. Ok so watch my hands.” 

She picked up the ball and demonstrated the throw with her hand. “See the way my hand curves, like I’m flicking my wrist? Try that.” 

Reid took the ball first. He dribbled the ball before throwing it up. The ball went through the basket. The boys cheered. 

“See? That was awesome!” Demetria said. She held up her hand for a high five which he reciprocated. “Alright, who’s next?” 

Harry went up and threw the ball, making it into the basket. 

“Way to go dude!” Demetria cheered, the two high diving. “Who’s next?” 

Jonathan went up and threw the ball, the ball circling the basket before falling off. Demetria caught it and threw it back to him, seeing the dejected look on his face. 

“You almost got it. Try again.” She smiled at him. 

He gave her a nod. He tossed the ball up, this time the ball landing into the basket. The boys and Demetria cheered. 

“See! You got it!” she said. 

They high fived and Jonathan passed the ball to Travis. Travis dribbled before the ball hit the back of the basket. The ball came back toward him as he caught it, tossed it again and then tossed the ball inside the basket. 

The other boys and Demetria cheered. 

“Ok, ok,” Demetria said. “Now you guys trying playing.” 

The boys then began playing one-on-one, Demetria coaching them and cheering them on. She couldn't help but feel her dad would be proud of her. Sure, she wasn’t an athlete, but she learned a lot from watching him coach from the sidelines all these years. 

She then saw Reid pass the ball to her. “Your turn,” he told her. 

She smiled. “Alright.” 

She dribbled the ball before tossing it into the basket. She grabbed the ball and said, “Who’s next?”

“What’s going on here?” 

Demetria turned around to see Bruce walking over. Her smile grew. “Just playing some basketball.” 

She watched as the boys’ eyes stayed on Bruce, wide in amazement and wonder. He acknowledged them with a warm smile before gazing at Demetria. 

“Tell me, boys, how she doing?” he asked. 

The responded, each voice overlapping the other. 

“She’s pretty good.” 

“She’s good.” 

“Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Demetria tossed the ball to Bruce as he caught it in his hands. “Let’s see you’ve got, Wayne,” she challenged playfully. 

“Those are fighting words,” he responded, dribbling the ball a bit. 

He turned his back to her and tossed the ball as it went into the basket. The boys cheered and clapped as Bruce turned to her, throwing his hands up. 

She folded her arms across her chest. “It was just a lucky shot.” 

Bruce looked over to one of the boys. “Can I have the ball, please?” They tossed him the ball. He showed it to Demetria. “Why don’t you try and steal it, Gallagher?” 

Demetria went over to him as he lifted the ball from her. She jumped, spiking it from his hands. Jonathan caught it and tossed it back to her. She went to shoot it into the basket when Bruce spiked it out of her her hand and picked her up swinging her around. 

“Are you kidding me?! I almost had it!” Demetria screamed. 

It was then something caught her eye. A figure watching them from across the street. 

“Hold on, hold on,” she told Bruce. 

He stopped, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

“Give me a sec. I think I see something.” 

She walked toward the gate, getting a closer look at the figure. It was a caucasian male with a black baseball cap that said ‘Gotham Times’ on it and a tee and jeans with a bulky vest. Across his neck, a camera. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she called out to him. “There’s kids here!” 

The man reached up to his camera as she continued to get closer. 

“Stop it!” she growled. “Stop!

Bruce rushed over to her, pulling her away. “Demetria, don’t.”

She turned to him. “He’s photographing the kids! He can’t be doing that!” 

“Listen, we’ll take care of this when we get home,” he told her. “Right now, just ignore him. The more you go after him, the worse it’s going to be.” 

She ran a hand through her hair. “There has to be a line drawn, Bruce.” 

“We’ll take care of it home, alright?” 

She nodded her head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He kissed her forehead. “You were protecting the kids. It’s gonna be ok. We’ll fix this.” 

He rubbed her arms. “Let’s go back, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

She took one more look at the photographer before walking away. Bruce had a point, they were going to take care of it. 

She was going to take care of it. 

[f0xfordcomma]

Happy FFWF! Since I missed last week this one is a two-for. Do you have a favorite sentence/scene you've written in any of your fics? Link the fic it's from and tell us a little about that part. Then, what do you do when you wind up having to cut a sentence/scene that you *love* from your work? Do you save it somewhere to maybe use later or just cut it and cry a little?

Happy ffwtuesday hotwife!!

So, I have a scene from my miraculous ladybug multi-chap fic the solitude of cinders that just makes me FEEL things every time I read it. I started writing meta on Adrien that turned into a whole chapter and then (because you know I can't just ~not~ turn an idea into an entire dang production) evolved into a multi-chap monstrosity. I did HOURS of research on greek mythology and rose variants and baking competitions for this bad boy. Will I ever finish writing it, who the heck knows. But the notes are all there. Anyone want to write it for me? Bueller? Bueller? NO? Dang it. I am a mess.

(I'll put the scene below the cut bc it'll make this a wee bit long.)

The worst/ best writing advice I've ever heard is "kill your darlings." It plays throughout my head whenever I'm editing and usually (out of spite for that annoying little voice in my head) I ignore it. I am a compulsive editor as I write, so I usually end up cutting sentence as I am writing and don't let myself get too too attached to anything (but this also means I am *the* world's slowest writer) when I do, inevitably, have to cut or edit something, depending on HOW in love with it I am, I'll just save it at the bottom of the document for ~posterity~ or to possibly use later on in the fic if the time comes. Or I'll just try to edit the phrasing enough to fit tonally where I need it to. (Thesaurus.com and Rhyme Zone, my beloveds.)

Usually, this happens with snippets of dialogue, which are always fun to look back on and marvel at how hilarious these little characters (and the *very* humble writer who loves them *very* much) are.

When I write poetry I'll save images/ snippets a lot more often. I have a document in the notes on my phone and a document in my google drive just full of random images that make zero sense out of context. One of my favorite late-night poetry notes document additions is just: "write a poem about the holiness of shit." I don't remember where it came from or what I was writing at the time that gave me this idea... but now i HAVE to write a poem about the holiness of shit.

Anyway, here's the scene!

Though he had been sheltered by fame and fortune his whole life, Adrien Agreste was self-aware enough to never carry any grand delusions of importance. Sure, his face was plastered all across Paris and there were always autographs to sign and interviews to do, but that was all just because he was pretty. Pretty wasn’t important.

Important, Adrien knew, was the way his father had smiled at his mother when she’d cracked a particularly corny joke. The way he had held her hand a little too long after pressing a chaste kiss to her fingertips on his way out the door each morning.

Important, Adrien had learned, was a lonely man and the countless hours he spent appealing to a painting of a ghost—hoping, Adrien assumed, to hear the voice of his muse; to relish in her inspiration; to catch, just once more, the light in her eyes (eyes that, Adrien knew, were all wrong on canvas). Important was discarded designs and missed meals all in search of that spark.

See, if Emilie Agreste had been a spark, her son was a cinder.

Adrien knew this, too.

Her pyre had been a brilliant blaze, but it had been snuffed out much too soon. All that was left of her inferno was smoldering cinders. Cinders which, in order to prevent the fire from extinguishing entirely, needed to be prodded and protected.

A bonfire built from cinders could be just as warm and just as bright, but it took a lot of work to nurse a flame back from near nothingness. Strike a match and in an instant, you’ve got fire. In the presence of a firesource, one needn’t bother with smoking remains. But when the spark is gone, the cinders become vital. The only hope for heat on the coldest of nights.

Adrien was a cinder.

He could sputter and smolder and produce heat when he needed to. But it never reached his eyes. (Her eyes.)

Adrien had her eyes.

His were green in the way that hers had been viridian. He was pretty in the way that she had been beautiful.

And pretty wasn’t important. And Adrien was very pretty.

[teatime-scans]

WPS Chapter 10 Text Translations

After a long time of waiting, we’ve finally been given a new chapter of WPS! Here’s the text tl’s for said chapter, hope you enjoy! Translation: Manaphy TLC: Holmes

Page 0

Big left text: Morofushi arc!

Left side text: A man carrying a passionate sense of justice, while wearing a peaceful smile. What is the fury hidden in his own heart...? 

Right side text: A justice burning silently... Azure flames!!

Detective Conan Police Academy Arc Wild Police Story

Original Work: Aoyama Gosho Artist: Arai Takahiro

Page 1

Upper note: The long-awaited Morofushi Arc begins...!

SFX: Fwooosh

Date: Stop it! Date: Morofushi!

Matsuda: You won’t make it in time anymore!

Hagiwara: Come back!

Amuro: H...

Page 2

Detective Conan Police Academy Arc Wild Police Story

Amuro: Hirooo!

Text: Ignoring his comrades’ voices, the man dives into the raging flames...

Side Note: Together with an ultra-gorgeous and super-complete benefit! The First Volume will go on sale during the 18th November! 

CASE 10. Sow evil and reap evil Original Work: Aoyama Gosho Artist: Arai Takahiro

Page 3

Box: 3 hours earlier Matsuda: R’lly now... SFX: Scrub

Matsuda: How come the bathroom’s so dirty? Date: That’s what I told you, right?

Date: During the dry run for the Sports festival happening this weekend... Date: Guys from all the classes were covered in mud... Date: On top of that, they did it under the rain yesterday, so... Box: Date Wataru (22)

Amuro: That reminds me, the class flag design you made for the sports festival, Hiro... Amuro: Was really stylish! Morofushi: Thanks! Box: Furuya Rei (22)

Morofushi: Well, I did think that doing a cherry blossom design... Morofushi: Was somehow cliché for the police, though... Box: Morofushi Hiromitsu (22)

Hagiwara: If I’m right, it was finished and delivered this morning, right? Matsuda: Yup! Matsuda: As you see... Box: Hagiwara Kenji (22)

Matsuda: I’m carrying it... Matsuda: Close to myself! Box: Matsuda Jinpei (22)

Page 4

Matsuda: Ta-daaah! SFX: Extend Banner: Onizuka Class - Cherry Blossom Riot - Instructor : Onizuka Hachizou - Assistant Instructor : Matsumoto Shouta

Hagiwara: The colors are nice too! ♪ Morofushi: Right? Amuro: I’m excited for the Sports Festival! Date: Hm?

Date: Cat footprints...? Date: And it stinks a bit...

Matsuda: That’s right! As I hung it out outside the window to boast in front of the guys from other classes... Matsuda: It got blown away by the wind... and on top of that...! Matsuda: A stray cat whose paws stepped on a shit walked over the flag...

Matsuda: When I tried to catch that cat with Hagi, he scratched me, and now look at this mess... Hagiwara: So that’s why that cat was stinking...

Matsuda: And so, just when I was about to bring it to Tomori geezer’s cleaning shop... Matsuda: We got summoned by Oni-jerk... SFX: Squeeze

Page 5

Onizuka: I think you guys have noticed it as well, but... Onizuka: Complaints from other instructors have been coming too...

Onizuka: That recently, the bathroom and dressing room are too filthy... Date: Wait, that’s not only our faul- Onizuka: Therefore!

Onizuka: In the one week until the Sports festival ends... Onizuka: I decided to have the five of you clean the bathroom every day!

All: Huh?!

Amuro: I-Instructor Onizuka... Morofushi: However you put it, that’s... Onizuka: Come on... I’m saying that I’m giving you a chance to make up for... Onizuka: All the evil deeds you committed up to now...

Hagiwara: All the evil deeds? Onizuka: I won’t let you say that you forgot!

Page 6

Onizuka: On top of slipping out from your rooms in the dead of the night and fighting by punching each other... Onizuka: You got your stories straight and gave a false testimony in order to hide it!

Onizuka: You gathered a lot of classmates in a convenience store... Onizuka: And scuffled with a group of robbers!

Onizuka: And not only did you drive a vehicle of your own accord, even though it’s prohibited for students... Onizuka: After doing an eccentric car chase, you completely damaged the precious car my acquaintance entrusted me with... Onizuka: Furthermore...

Onizuka: You also used a gun without permission... Matsuda: Y... Matsuda: You bas... SFX: Whisper

Matsuda: But that saved your life, goddammit! Onizuka: Anyway!

Onizuka: I order the five of you to clean the bathroom and dressing room during one week! Onizuka: If you shirk even one day, I’ll have you get out of this school, Onizuka: So get ready!

Onizuka: Over! Onizuka: Without delay, start it now! Morofushi: ?!

Page 7

Morofushi: ...

Onizuka: Ah, that's a picture of a primary schoolgirl who was reported missing yesterday night in this jurisdiction. Onizuka: I heard she hasn’t gone home ever since going out on an errand... Hiromitsu: ....

Onizuka: What’s up? Morofushi... Onizuka: Do you know this child? Morofushi: Ah, no.. Morofushi: I only happened to see her downtown a short while ago...

Morofushi: Is it fine if I take this with me? Morofushi: Since I might recall something... Onizuka: Sure, I don’t mind!

Onizuka: Well, I’ll go check on you later, so... Onizuka: Before the bathing time at 17:00, be done with the cleaning!

Page 8

Matsuda: Jeez, ‘till when is this gonna take?

Matsuda: The bathroom’s still so dirty, and yet...

Matsuda: We didn’t touch... Matsuda: The dressing room at all...

Matsuda: At this rate, if we keep taking it easy... Matsuda: It’s gonna be bad, y’know?

Matsuda: How ‘bout we do it while talking about something more exciting? Hagiwara: Exciting, huh...?

Hagiwara: That reminds me, Morofushi-chan... Hagiwara: That little girl on the missing report you were looking at just now... Hagiwara: Isn’t there something about her? Morofushi: Eh?

Page 9

Date: Indeed... Date: Just because you saw her in the street, that reaction was strange, right? Morofushi: Ah, yeah, that child...

Morofushi: She looked just like a little girl I used to play a lot with when I was a kid... Morofushi: Well, that girl back then died from an illness, but... Morofushi: There’s something bothering me...

Amuro: If it’s your childhood friend, does it mean that I also met that little girl? Morofushi: No... Morofushi: Since it happened back when I was in Nagano...

Matsuda: Now that sounds interesting! Date: Go ahead and tell us about that story! Hagiwara: We’d listen to anything!

Morofushi: In... Morofushi: In fact...

Morofushi: Ah, but... Morofushi: That story isn’t interesting at all, so...

Page 10

Matsuda: Aaah, damn it! Matsuda: I’m done, I’m done!

Morofushi: Eh? Matsuda: Since Zero asked me to wait until you bring it out yourself... Matsuda: I was holding back, but... Matsuda: I can’t keep with that anymore!

Matsuda: You’re searching for the criminal who killed your Dad and Mom, right? Morofushi: Eeeh?!

Matsuda: And because the little girl from that missing report... Matsuda: Looks related to that case, you’re at a loss... Matsuda: That wrong?!

Morofushi: R-Right... Morofushi: That’s right, but... Morofushi: I can’t!

Morofushi: This is a case I absolutely have to solve myself... Morofushi: I don’t want to involve anybody else anymore... Morofushi: If someone ends up dying again...

Page 11

Group: We won't die!

Date: Until now, we've been...

Matsuda: Crossing risky bridges non-stop, but...

Furuya: When it’s the five of us...

Hagiwara: We’ve always pulled through, right?

Matsuda: So talk to us, boss Hiro... Matsuda: We won’t do you bad, y’know... Morofushi: ...

Page 12

Morofushi: Pft- Morofushi: “We won’t do you bad”... Morofushi: That’s a villain-esque line, right?

Furuya: That's true... Date: Cruel Bailiffs do say that a lot... Hagiwara: Since Jinpei-chan is rooted in evil! ♡ Matsuda: Shut your mouths! Hiromitsu: ...

Morofushi: Understood! Morofushi: I’ll tell you...

Morofushi: About that night of dismay... Morofushi: which made my inner clock's hands freeze in place...

Morofushi: Enshrouded in that stench of steel... Morofushi: 15 years ago from now...

 Left Side Text: Continues in SS #49

Right Side Text: Morofushi’s past, revealed... Next issue.

[pagingevilspawn]

Patiently waiting for the next lyialg update ! I’m obsessed so yeah thank u for that !!

Loving You Is A Losing Game- chapter six

i really need to get back to writing this fic, but my inspiration  atm at zero. (i blame proofs, they’ve corrupted all my brain cells)

are we surprised, another filler! what? but, did i write... conversation? wowzies. its just a day full of surprises ain’t it? okay, hope you guys like it! read on ao3 here!

~*~

"i've spent all of the love i've saved. we were always a losing game."

~*~

she probably should've left after their rendezvous in the comforters, but she didn't. instead, she lay on the wide open bed sprawled out over the covers, dressed and ready for the day as she asks him random questions just to annoy him, which she knows he secretly enjoys. (the tiny smiles he would let sneak past his lips didn't go unnoticed by her. he was quite horrible at trying to convince her that he didn't enjoy it.)

"why can't chickens fly?" she asks thoughtfully, pursing her lips, making him stop in his tracks as he puts his toiletries in his suitcase. that was definitely the weirdest question she had asked yet. and trust him, she'd asked a lot of them.

"umm, because they're too fat? i don't know." he answers with a shrug of his shoulders. he didn't know why the hell chickens didn't fly. all he knew was that their wings were useless.

jo looks unamused with his answer as a frown begins to form in her face. "but why? the universe gave them wings, so why not the opportunity to actually use them?"

alex thinks over the answer for a second, shrugging his shoulder as he puts more things in his bag. "dude, i don't know. you're the one in med school. go ask a teacher. or google. google has the answer to everything."

she furrows her eyebrows, reaching behind her to grab a pillow, which she successfully tosses and it hits his face. she lets out a loud laugh as the pillow makes a thump! sound as it hits the floor, alex sending her a glare she had gotten to know all too well these past few days. "you act like i'm in high school." she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning as she narrows her eyes at him.

"i would hope you're not. otherwise i'd get arrested." he says gruffly, finding a loner sock in the bathroom and tossing it into his suitcase aimlessly, nearly missing the destination point as it hangs over the side of it loosely.

"asshole. i'm twenty-three." she bites back.  

"exactly." he says. "you're a fetus. you're a young, tiny, innocent fetus." he pauses for a second, "well, maybe not exactly the innocent part." he grins coyly, earning another pillow to the face.

she scowls at him playfully, a small smile gracing her lips. "shut up. and you do realize you're not much older than me right?" she flops back against the pillows, liking the poof! sound it made whenever she hit the confronter beneath her. it was settling, so much so that she did it again and again. sitting up and them flopping down. sit up, flop down. sit up, flop down. to say it annoyed him would be an understatement.

for someone who wasn't a high school student she sure as hell acted like one sometimes. 

most of the time.

all the damn time.

"still. you are in school. ask a teacher, they probably know. or ask google, like i said. they seem to have the answer to everything."

jo blatantly ignores his answer, lost in her own world as she begins to ramble on, a trait he found out she did often. on most people he would find it annoying, but for some reason it suited her. "but it's so cruel." she pouts, narrowing her eyes and glaring at the blank TV screen. "i mean, they have all these bird friends and they see them fly in the sky, and all they wanna do is fly too but they can't because the universe gave them crappy wings that can't hold them up. it's crappy. the situation's crappy. chicken's deserve better." she says in one breath, sinking into the pillows behind her once she was done.

he looks at her for second before bursting into loud laughter. she seemed to have that effect on him, making him laugh at the most unconventional of times. "you think chickens deserve better?" he asks incredulously after he calms down from his laughing fit, a wide grin on his face as he looks at her.

jo blushes and looks away, feeling the heat rise from her cleavage to her face. she truly didn't know where the hell that rant came. she purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest. "y-yes." she stutters out, trying not to launch into another long monologue. she could go on for days about how the poor, innocent, annoying cluckers got delt crappy cards.  

"oh, i get it." he says, suddenly laying down on the empty spot next to her. "the chicken is you, and the wings are mothers. you're wondering why all the other people -birds- have wings -mothers- but you don't."

she stares at him, mouth agape. was that what she was thinking? she'd never put that together before. was she doing it without even realizing it? "n-no." she stutters out lamely. that would be crazy right? comparing a bird and wings to herself. that's just.. sad. not to mention pathetic. who the hell compares themselves to flightless birds? pathetic people, that's who. she wasn't a chicken, she was a... a fucking unicorn!

"please. i'm the king of euphemisms." he smirks, tossing a shirt into his suitcase as he stands form his position. he looks up to meet her eyes, which were wide. "you didn't know." he states, jo nodding in response.

he shrugs nonchalantly, "well, congrats on knowing it earlier than me. i didn't figure out the weird shit i said was just me reflecting on myself until last year." he gives a half hearted attempt at a grin. it was true. it wasn't until a patient pointing it out actually (who he thought was kind of crazy), so he supposed he couldn't give himself much credit.  

jo pinches her eyebrows together, biting her bottom lip in concentration. "i just compared myself to a chicken." she says abruptly, making him let out a snort.

"that you did."

she suddenly stands up from her spot on the bed, hands flying around like a mad woman. "who the fuck compares themselves to a chicken!" she shrieks, sounding so serious alex was trying not to burst into a laugh right then and there.

"you." he deadpans, unable to stop the wide smirk that spread across his sharp features. she was too easy to mess with sometimes.  

she throws him a sharp glare, taking off her flat from her foot and hitting him right in the chest, picking it up and slipping it back on after. he winces as he rubs the spot, making sure no shoe prints got marked on him. he wouldn't know how the hell he would explain that to robbins. i mean, 'oh no, i'm fine, just got trampled by a single shoe' was a bit of a hard thing to believe.

"no, but... that's just weird." she says, crossing her arms over her chest once more as she looks out the window, taking notice of the light bits of snow falling from the sky. she didn't know why she expected otherwise. it was november after all. she'd practically grown up in boston, she knew the reasons like the back of her hand.

he nods. "it is."

jo watches as the snow falls. it was so pure. she used to consider herself pure. well, not really. she lived in her car and had gotten kicked out of so many foster homes she lost count. but she did always think she still had that shred of innocence left in her, the girl who looked for the good in everything, despite her normally pessimistic thoughts. now, now that little bit of purity was shattered.

she cheated on her husband.

and the worst part? she enjoyed it. not the fact that she was cheating, god no. the guilt was all consuming, a torturous monster that she truly just wanted to stab to death with a sword as she watched it bleed out. no, she felt guilty at the fact that she couldn't get enough of the sex.

no man had ever made her feel the way alex karev had in the past three days. never in her life. she'd had random hookups that she met at bars who were quite good, and not to mention her husband, who she would used to compare to god in bed. but now... now she wasn't so sure.

it was like he knew her. it was like... he knew exactly what to do to push her over the edge, something she had never experienced before. god, she felt so dirty. she wanted to just hop in the shower and scrub every reminder of alex off her, but at the same time she just wanted to do him in the shower.

shaking away her thoughts, she looks back at him, noting how he also seemed to be lost in his mind as well, staring at the snow.

he notices her eyes on him, so he just lets his mouth tumble out the words flying through his brain. he didn't feel the need to hold back around jo, something he didn't know he was missing until she came into the picture.

"it doesn't snow very often in seattle." he says, watching as the white flakes trickle down to the sidewalk, some sticking to the window as they let the wind move them in whatever direction it pleases.

"we get a lot of rain, but not a lot of snow. to be honest, it snowed more in iowa." she nods at his words. she'd known snow all her life. she grew up on the east coast and never left. she liked the white fluffiness that would make tiny piles outside her bay window in the study, something she had since she moved in with paul.

she grimaces slightly, "do you ever get annoyed with the rain?" she asks softly.

alex nods furiously, a silent chuckle escaping his lips. "all the damn time." he whispers, taking a seat on one of the chairs the room housed.

"then why'd you move there?" she asks curiously. surely he knew how much it rained in seattle. practically babies did.  

"i got accepted to seattle grace. no way in hell would i give up a chance to train at one of the best hospital's in the world because of the weather."

she nods, settling into a comfortable silence with him as they focus on the snow. that was something they both enjoyed about each other. there was no pressure to fill the noise. they could sit in silence and be okay with it.

the snow falling was like them, having to leave this hotel room. here, they were able to attack each other's lips with all they had in them, no matter how wrong it was. the snow hitting the ground was like them needing to leave the four walls. it was them having to face and come to terms with their actions.

so for the moment they sat silently, just trying to savor the last few moments before their life would probably turn to shit.

they weren't telling anybody, god no. but the overhanging cloud of guilt and shame above their head's already made it a little bit harder to carry on.

some say the guilt is the ultimate punishment, worse than death or anything else.

and at that moment they couldn't agree more.

____

they sit for a while longer, just watching the city of boston get covered in white. it was settling, calming in a way they didn't know they needed.

he would miss talking to her. which was a stupid thing to say. a really stupid thing to say actually. but it was the truth. he had never found himself opening up to someone so easily. for once in his life he wasn't given eyes of pity when someone hears his sob story he called his childhood, instead she just understood. she knew what it was like to grow up with basically nothing and make themselves into something, trying to be better than their parents, even though she never knew her's.

it was refreshing, talking to someone without having to worry abut being judged or labeled as something he used to be. he wasn't a foster kid anymore, nor a little boy who had to take care of his younger siblings from such a young age. he wasn't the twelve year old boy who had to practically raise his little sister. to her, he was just alex. the guy who she cheated on her husband with (he wasn't proud of that part), the guy she talked until three in the morning with. the guy she ate a shit loud of pizza with. he was just a normal guy with a crappy past.

she would miss talking to him too. with alex, talking was so natural. she didn't need to think, she didn't feel the pressure to say the right thing in hopes that she would be seen as more than what she had been told she was all her life.

but she would miss him holding her.

a lot.

when they laid in bed, he would wrap his arms around her and pull her in close. she swore, she had never felt more safe than she did while nestled in his chest as his fingers wove through her hair. it was such an intimate embrace, and they knew they shouldn't be doing it, but hell, they'd crossed the line that first night. why not be a bit more reckless? the only people feeling the pain would be them.  and if a few hours of them taking away each other's pain would mean that there was more added on later, then why the hell not?  

they didn't want to say goodbye. not just because they were screwing each other, but because they had made a friend in one another.

so with that thought, without looking away from the window alex sticks out his palm to the side, not far away from jo, "hand me your phone."

she quirks a quizzical brow at him, "what?" she asks, turning to face towards him from where she was sitting on the miniature table. it was a small little thing, but she petite herself, so the table acted like a stool.  

he simply only raises his eyebrows and she gets what he means. she cracks a small smile, happy that he didn't want their newfound friendship to come to an end either. she learned over the years that losing a relationship was okay, it would take time to heal, but you got over it. a friendship was something you never ultimately forgot about. he and alex weren't by any means in a relationship, but it was safe to say they had become really good friends.  

she walks over to the bedside table, grabbing her phone and unlocking it, a new pang of guilt shooting through her at the sight of her lock screen. it was of her and paul a few months ago, a couple weeks before he proposed. they looked really happy. she was smiling wide and he was pressing a kiss to the side of her cheek. she shakes off the feelings, opening the contact app for him to fill out with his information.

"put your name down as alexandra." she says adamantly, alex glancing up with a look of displeasure.

"what?" last time he checked his full name was alexander, not a chick's name.

"he might get suspicious." she shrugs her shoulders, taking his phone from his hand and filling out the little lines of information.

he rolls his eyes, he thought it was a bit excessive, but he did kinda of get where she was coming from. just alex could be a boy or a girl. "fine, then you have to be joseph." he answers, smirking triumphantly.

she scowls, begrudgingly typing out joseph onto the screen. "you better not fucking call me that asshole." she mutters, earning a light laugh. nobody ever really called him stuff like 'asshole' or 'dickhead' without using it as an insult. it was actually pretty funny when it wasn't being used condescendingly, he learned.  

"as long as you don't call me alexandra we have a deal." he shakes his head. "i already know an alexandra. dated one, but we call her lexie." he mumbles, more to himself than to jo. a small laugh is heard in the room after his words, alex cracking a small, barely there smile. they eventually stand up, knowing that now was the time. if they delayed it any longer than he would miss his flight, and that was one thing he couldn't do, because that would mead to questions from robbins, which would lead to questions from izzie, which would lead to the truth coming out. long story short, he couldn't miss his flight.  

alex and jo stand in front of each other, staring into each other's eyes.

should she kiss him? as a goodbye?

as if he hears her thoughts he's stepping closer to her, raising one hand to her cheek, his eyes looking a bit conflicted as he stares at her. he takes it as a sign that she doesn't pull away and begins to lean in, making her shiver all over as she feels his breath fan her face. their heart rates pick up simultaneously in their chests, a feeling that hadn't faded over the past three days.

after what seems like hours their lips finally connect, taking in their taste for the last time. the fire burns in their stomach's, but this time they put it aside. if they took it any further, they knew that they would end up in the throes of passion once again.

they pull away at the same time, him reaching down to grab the handle of his suitcase as he walks out of the door with her, who only has her small clutch in her hand. he shuts the door behind them, staring at her once more.

"goodbye jo." he says, beginning to turn away.

"goodbye alex."

[hyuckssunchip]

Shakespeare Sucks Pt. 2

Pairings: Jaemin x Reader, ft. Jaehyun, Renjun, Mark, Jeno, Taeyong

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), angst, mentions of violence/death

Synopsis:

Like Romeo and Juliet... less death though. You and Jaemin are blissfully unaware of the fate the lies ahead of your relationship. That is until Fate unveils the cruel plans that She has for you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

“What?!”

You pulled the phone away from your ear in pain as your brother yelled at you through the phone.

“You cannot tell Dad though. He’ll kill me if he finds out.” You hushed the last part out, as if someone was listening. Honestly you wouldn’t put it past your Dad to do that.

“You can’t drop a bombshell like that on me and not expect me to tell!” His end was also hushed, having the same thoughts as you.

“Renjun if you tell him you’re dead! I have so much dirt on you too.” You threatened him, giving up on the pleas that you had originally tried. 

There was a long silence on the other end.

Then a sigh.

“Alright, I won’t say anything... yet. And if he finds out, I definitely didn’t know okay?” You could tell he was biting his nails, a habit he had developed ever since he dropped out of college. 

Renjun was only a year older than you, but if felt like he was ten times more mature and had ten times the burden that you had. Not to mention that now he was around your Dad 24/7.

That’s a burden in itself.

“Why’d you tell me anyways?” He asked, genuinely curious, seeing that you threatening him not to tell anyone.

“You think that I could keep it to myself? I’m freaking out a little bit right now if you couldn’t tell.”

“Oh.”

“Plus I wasn’t sure if I was right. I was kind of hoping you would tell me that I was being stupid and it wasn’t that. But...” You faltered at the end, coming to terms with it.

“Well, if it helps I’m not a hundred percent sure. I just think that you’re probably right. I mean we could ask Dad, but I don’t think that you want that.”

“No. Don’t be stupid, Dad’s the last person that I want to know.”

“Right. Oh! This weekend Dad’s going to the Brink, just a heads up.”

Your eyes widened for a moment then relaxed. 

“Oh, are you going too?”

“Nah, I told him I’d sit this one out.” There was a chuckle on the other end.

You snorted, “Right, you told Dad you were gonna ‘sit this one out’, I’m sure that went down well.”

“Better than I thought it would. You aren’t worried? I thought you would definitely panic.”

“No, I’m going out of town this weekend, so I’m not too worried.” The small frown on your face said otherwise. Even though you were going to be out of town, you still got a bad feeling about it.

There was shuffling on the other end and you perked up hearing voices in the background.

“Y/N Dad’s here. I’ve gotta go.”

“M’kay, I’ll call you later. Stay safe.” 

“I’ll try.” You winced at his reply.

Click.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know that you were holding. You were suddenly brought back to the beginning of your conversation.

Renjun would definitely know more about the emblem than you did, and you didn’t like the fact that he agreed with your idea, not that you were expecting any less, but one can hope.

You fell back on the soft mattress and stared up at the ceiling. Your eyes raked over the bumps of the paint that had seen years of stress. Your eyes fell shut and you imagined that you weren’t here, half grown up, but back in a child’s room staring at the glow in the dark stars that you had always wished you could have. You remember begging to get them, but no was a firm answer that you would soon get used to.

It was around the age of nine that you really began to resent your family. It wasn’t normal, the relationship that you all had, it almost seemed forced. For a while you genuinely thought you were adopted and you lived on that thought. Besides Renjun you rarely had a confidant that you could rely on, most kids your age avoiding you like the plague.

It wasn’t until college that you felt free for the first time. It was a new start, no one knew you, or of you and you felt the need to protect that. Mark was the first friend you had ever made, Freshman year orientation he sat next to you, stern faced and hands scribbling unnecessary notes. At the time you had laughed at him, earning you a flushed embarrassed glance from the boy.

Jeno was rough. He seemed like the typical bad boy that went around scowling at the world, and blinded by prejudices you avoided him. You beat yourself up everyday for doing the same exact thing those young kids once did to you. As you bumped into his leather clad shoulder you remember letting out a gasp and scrambling to pick up both yours and his things. When you heard the string of frantic apologies and looked into his eyes for the first time, you knew you had done him wrong. Jeno wasn’t rough, Jeno was sweet and kind.

And with Jeno came Jaemin. 

Jaemin was like a breath of fresh air that you never had. He knocked the wind out of you and you lived off of him at the same time. He woke up things inside of you that you didn’t know you had hidden away. You owed him who you were.

There weren’t enough words in the world to describe what he meant to you, and right now it broke your heart that you could feel yourself unintentionally closing yourself off from him. As cliche as it was, staying away from him was the best thing you could do for him.

One last time.

You knew you could say that forever, but this time you meant it. 

You could hear the sound of Jaemin’s car pulling up outside of the apartment and your heart clenched.

The soft knocking on the door let you know that you couldn’t wait any longer. You threw your bag over your shoulder and opened the door to find his smiling face. 

Locking the door, you stood under his arm and let him guide you to the car. He took your bag, putting it in the backseat before sliding into the driver’s seat himself.

He rested both hands on the wheel, and sighed, pausing for a second before starting the engine. An unspoken tension had come between the two of you the past few days and you prayed that he didn’t notice the way that you pushed yourself into the side of the door.

The silence wasn’t unbearable, but it wasn’t the comforting one that you had gotten used to. 

Wordlessly he snaked his hand over to your lap, caressing your hand in his own, softly as if it would break if he held on too tight.

You relaxed for a moment, staring out the window, watching the cars speed by and your mind faltered for second.

Would it be so bad to be selfish this one time?

It would. It would be really bad. Over the past few days you had thought hard and long about your situation and came to the conclusion that you couldn’t do that to either of you.

“Y/N? We’re here.” It came out soft, his face worried, like he was scared that he would frighten you.

You hated the way that he tiptoed around you. Where was the cheeky boy you fell for? You couldn’t help but blame yourself for that change.

“Oh.” You slipped your hand from his and you tried to ignore the way that his face fell. 

“Jeno!” You smiled at the familiar face, leaning in for a hug. He squeezed you back in response, giving you his trademark eye smile.

Jaemin came around the back of his car, standing next to you with his hands shoved deep in his pocket. “I hope you don’t mind, I invited him. Also Mark, I figured you’d be okay with them.”

You smiled back at him, normally you would be sad that it wouldn’t be a weekend away for the two of you, but you hated to admit that you felt relief wash over you.

“Of course.”

Jeno gave Jaemin a look that you caught and you didn’t like the feeling it gave you. It was almost a warning and you gulped at the thought.

“Mark!” You grinned, happy for the distraction. The always flustered boy grinned at you, meandering over to the group.

“Dude, I checked out the shore a couple of minutes ago and there’s this awesome pier that goes out like halfway into the lake. We definitely need to go there! We could even do like a little campfire, there’s this whole thing already set up for it.”

You hadn’t seen Mark this excited since he found out that people actually buy notes. You remembered him saying that years of hard work had finally paid off. 

You grinned, grabbing his hand pulling him towards the dock. “Show me.”

He began ranting off everything he had discovered, excited that he could show off everything.

It was only after you were out of earshot that Jeno and Jaemin began to speak.

“Taeyong’s gonna kill you, you know. And me, cause you dragged me into your shit.” Jeno spoke out, watching your form get smaller by the second.

“Don’t remind me.” There was a sour tone in his voice, one Jaemin didn’t use often, at least not around you.

“You blew him off twice. He already is pissed at you for that. The fact that you’re not going to Brinks is gonna tip him over the edge.”

Jaemin still had his eyes trained on you.

“I wasn’t going to have her that close.” He muttered, zeroing in on you.

“She wouldn’t even know. It’s not like it’s that close anyways, nothing is planned either.” Jeno turned to face him, staring at his side profile.

“Still. Why risk it?” He flinched as he saw you slightly stumble over the rocks.

Jeno let out a rough sigh. Putting a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder and giving a small squeeze before brushing past him to join the two of you nonchalantly. 

The warmth of the fire that Jeno had made made you sleepy and Jaemin’s arms wrapped around you didn’t help.

Mark was currently entranced with the horror story that Jeno was telling, hands forgetting the mess of marshmallow that was now a puddle in his hands.

There was a sigh in your ear, and you leaned in closer.

He had no intention of whispering sweet nothings into your ear, but began humming a tune you recognized. Your heart swelled at the fact that he remembered. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“This is perfect.”

You smiled, swaying a bit more in his arms.

“Yeah.” You tried to block out the thoughts that were fighting their way into your mind. The wicked temptations that flitted across your mind.

It’s human nature to be selfish.

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© Copyright 2021. hyuckssunchip. All rights reserved.

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…

ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong

genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, romance, angst, fantasy

author’s note: why am i writing sm abt yeosang, this is supposed to be a seongjoongyn fic lmao; anygays, yeosang said polyamory rights

warnings: hongjoong suffers. a lot. but will make up for it later, i promise; insecurities; jealousy; blood only mentioned like once; possessiveness

word count: 1.5k (a bit shorter than usual cuz uni is a bitch and i have zero free time but wanted to update)

chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter five  ☠️ chapter six ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight  ☠️ chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter twelve ☠️ chapter thirteen ☠️ spotify playlist

You swam towards the surface together with your sister Soojin. She had finally talked you into meeting up with those pirates once again. You didn’t what to admit it to her, but you were pretty excited. You were curious to find out more about them. Even though they were humans. Or maybe because of that. 

Every braincell in your mermaid body was telling you to swim away from this situation and never look back. But your foolish heart was swimming further, deeper into danger.

“There’s the ship!” Soojin screamed eagerly, pointing in the distance.

“You’re right,” you responded flatly, somewhat awestruck by the way it looked at twilight. The pink sky was painting its sails like magic. As the yellow sun was setting into the sea, you could only think one thing: you had never seen such beauty before in your life. And it scared you that you were already so attached to this new world.

“Come on,” Soojin urged you, swimming way ahead of you.

Your tail had a mind of its own as you followed her, not even bothering to object. You were in too deep. Which was ironic, considering you were swimming across the sea surface, its true depths long forgotten.

“Yeosang!” Soojin sang the boy’s name and started knocking onto the wooden ship. “Come out, you punk! I travelled a long way just to see you.”

Soon enough, the blonde pirate you’d briefly noticed earlier showed up.

“Soojin!” he beamed happily and jumped into the water without thinking twice. “I missed you.”

“Me too, silly,” Soojin stroked his hair sweetly and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. You felt as if you were intruding by witnessing their blossoming relationship, so you looked away from them awkwardly.

“You keeping the ring I gave you safe?” Yeosang asked your sister.

“Of course. You trust me?”

Yeosang nodded.

“Even though I only just met you.”

Soojin smiled and buried her head into his chest. You were looking away but something made you curiously sneak a peak or two at them every once in a while. Yeosang’s attention was suddenly on you.

“Did you come to see Seonghwa?” he inquired.

“N-no,” you quickly responded. “I just came to make sure you delinquents wouldn’t hurt my Soojin or something.”

Yeosang scoffed loudly.

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

You groaned in annoyance.

“You want me to call Seonghwa? I’m sure he’d be delighted to talk to you again.”

“If it’s not too much trouble…” you answered ambiguously.

“Be right back,” Yeosang promised and started climbing in an experienced manner back onto the ship.

“Hey, don’t leave me!” Soojin complained.

“Will return in the blink of an eye, love.”

“You better!” Soojin threatened vaguely. “Or else!”

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa’s POV

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” I spoke honestly to Y/N.

“You and me both,” she replied coldly.

“You didn’t want to see me again?” I asked her in a sad voice.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Soojin dragged me here.”

“Purely against your will?” I suggested.

“Well…I suppose a small part of me was curious…”

“About?”

“You could have just thanked me and that’s it. End of story. You didn’t have to go out of your way to show me all these delicious fruits and spend all this time around me. So…why did you do it?”

“I suppose I was curious, too.”

“About?” Y/N repeated, mocking my voice.

I rolled my eyes.

“You’ll have to stick around to find out,” I responded cleverly, hoping she would fall for the trick and really choose to stay.

“Does it have to be that difficult?” she wanted to know.

“What’s difficult about it? You’re a mermaid and can swim whenever and wherever you want to. I’m a pirate and our ship can go anywhere at any time. It’s a perfect match, don’t you think?”

Y/N shook her head, apparently disagreeing with me.

“You know why I can’t,” she said, her voice strained with pain.

Like I needed a reminder of the woman I’d loved and lost. But maybe, destiny was giving me another choice. To make things right. If not…why had fate decided to send Y/N my way? Could it be a mere coincidence? I didn’t know but I wanted to fight for her.

“How about this…you don’t have to make any promises to stay. But if you’re ever bored, you can swim around the ship and say my name. I’ll answer to your call.”

“What’s with you?” the mermaid chuckled. “Seonghwa.”

“You remembered,” I whispered fondly, suddenly recalling our conversation on the boat.

“I might be an idiot, but I’m not stupid,” Y/N joked. “So…will your boyfriend scold you for hanging out with me?”

“How did you figure it out?” I asked.

“Oh, please. Last time he was reeking of jealousy.”

“You can smell that shit?”

Y/N laughed.

“What, you thought having a tail was the only perk about being a mermaid?”

“You’re extraordinary,” I panted, suppressing the urge to bring my face closer to hers. This was wrong.

“I so am,” she smirked confidently. “But seriously, we shouldn’t anger him. You said he was the captain, right? Doesn’t that give him…I don’t know, more power over you?”

I shrugged.

“No one holds power over me.”

“Not even your own heart?” Y/N teased and placed her hand on my chest. This was so wrong, I kept telling myself. Hongjoong could see us any minute if he decided to go out of his cabin.

“N-no,” I stammered unconvincingly, as she approached me like a snake, spreading her poison slowly into my blood.

“Liar,” Y/N whispered and I could feel my heart beating faster.

Then, she pulled away as quickly as she’d gotten closer.

“See, that’s why I don’t want anything to do with you humans. Even the slightest word or movement could make you so weak. It’s pathetic, really. Don’t you think?”

“It’s better than being cold. Or not having a heart.”

She was obviously struggling to keep up the charade of not feeling anything. I could see her swallowing on nothing but air as she was trying to figure out what to say or do next. Like it was a game of chess.

“Fish are cold. I’m part-fish, remember?”

“You’re also part-human, remember?” I shot back wittily. “Since you claim to dislike us so much, you might as well reconsider…aren’t you a bit like me?”

“I’m nothing like you,” Y/N spat out, denying her humanity. “The sooner you realize this, the better.”

“Yes, you are. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be terrified of getting hurt.”

“It’s called self-preservation, you idiot!”

“No. It’s called being human.”

She sighed exasperatedly.

“I’m tired of all this arguing. Let’s just stay here in silence. Please?”

I nodded, finding that silence felt somewhat comforting when I was in her presence. The sun had already set and the moon was shining brightly upon us. Despite the celestial body’s beauty, I could only focus on her. Her face seemed serene but the rest of her was tense. I hesitantly placed my hand on her back. She slightly jumped up in surprise but soon enough, relaxed under my touch. I simply looked at her calmly and expected her to do the same. Maybe this was wrong. But I couldn’t give her up.

☠️☠️☠️

Hongjoong’s POV

I followed him outside. Quietly. Making myself invisible. It’s what he would have wanted, no? For me not to witness this. Well, what I wanted was make him believe that I hadn’t. But I heard every word. Felt every touch as if it were a dagger in my back. Saw every hidden glance. Even in the dark. Smelt the sea as the wind blew on and on. Tasted the salt on my tongue and the blood as I was biting down on my cheeks to stop myself from screaming. Maybe she was right. I was reeking of jealousy. But I had every right, didn’t I? He had promised something. And even though he hadn’t exactly left, why did it feel like his heart already belonged to someone else? Why did I feel the betrayal shattering my bones like stones being thrown my way? Why was he looking at her like that? I kept repeating to myself that he hadn’t abandoned me, not really. But why did it feel like he had?

My painful thoughts were interrupted by a light touch on my arm. I swiftly turned around, grabbing the hand that had dared approach me. It was Yeosang. I released my hold on him.

“Hyung…don’t torture yourself,” he spoke softly.

“Leave me alone, Yeosang. I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“He would never leave you. You know that, right?”

“What does it look like to you, hm?” I questioned him angrily, barely managing to keep my voice down so that Seonghwa and Y/N wouldn’t find out I was eavesdropping.

“There are people who take more than one significant other, you know? That doesn’t mean he loves you any less.”

I closed my eyes, because I was afraid he’d see I’d been crying.

“I can’t share him with anyone. It would kill me.”

“But, hyung, can’t you tell he would do anything for you?” Yeosang insisted. “If you told him to let her go, he would. But is that the kind of boyfriend you’d like to be? You could find a solution. One that makes you both happy.”

“Just drop it, Yeosang. I can’t even consider this right now.”

Yeosang nodded and left. I could tell this wasn’t the end of this conversation. It was only the beginning.

To be continued…