#and yes i refuse to tag the rest lmao

[the-kipsabian]

[izzy-b-hands]

Putting on last year's trans rigs stream from Drawfee before i have to get ready to go out with my mum and her bf today (bc i have the worst feeling in my gut he's gonna make that An Thing for me if given the chance today, aka whenever i eventually need the restroom while we're at Mystic)

[btsugarush]

GANGSTA | myg - 004

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.

word count: 3.5K

authors note: yes, it is here. it only took me 76 years lmao. y’all best give me all the love since y’all wanted to be on my ass about this mf. anyway, enjoy the drama. also this was prewritren with the tags a long time ago so if you no longer wanted to be tagged or if you’re new and wanted to be tagged i’m sorry. the taglist got full but i try to switch out who i tag every chapter.

“Now, are you sure you’re okay? I can personally file a report for you.” Mr. Kim asked for the 6th time. You roll your eyes, fed up with the badgering. You didn’t understand why he cared so much anyway. He was the one that refused to listen to you when you tried to explain why it wouldn’t be a great idea for you to deliver in Gongdan.

You didn’t go into detail about the assault, or even bother to mention Yoongi being the reason it didn’t escalate. You simply just stated to him that you were attacked and managed to slip free.

Luckily for you though, the old man’s guilt for the attack led him to giving you the rest of the day off and you snatched that offer up immediately. Not like he needed your assistance, seeing as the restaurant was practically dead with only about 4 customers. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim. I promise.” You assure him one last time. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You exit the shop, the door dinging as you do. You spot Mina’s car sitting in front of the restaurant, and she smiles cheerfully as you climb inside. “Hey. Thanks for picking me up so early.” You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “No problem… But why am I picking you up so early? And…” she leans forward, peaking at your ripped shirt. “Why is your shirt ripped?”

You scratch your head, the thought of explaining the situation to Mina made your brain itch. “I had to deliver at the Devil’s playground again, and got attacked.” You kept it short and sweet. Mina’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! Was it that Yoongi guy again?!”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t him, it was this group of guys. Yoongi was actually the one that saved me…” you twiddle with your fingers as your mind wanders about the raven. Mina arches a brow at the gentleness in your voice. “He saved you?” You nod slowly in response. “My god, what does he expect from you now? Sexual favors?”

Of course Mina has to be the most dramatic and think the worst possible thought of everything. “No, he didn’t ask me for any favors. Which I guess is surprising for someone with his track record.” You admit, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mina starts up the car, finally moving from the restaurant premises. “Please don’t tell me you’re buddy buddy with that thug now?”

You scoff, letting your eyes roll back. “Of course not! The guy is a criminal, and stalker. I’d never befriend him,” You argue, crossing your arms. Yoongi may have saved you, but you weren’t swayed by his heroic charm. “Anyway, enough about me and my shitty day, it’s too traumatic to talk about. Did you have a talk with Jin like I suggested?” You change the subject. Mina’s face drops at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. “Yeah, we talked for about 2 minutes before it all blew up. Now we’re not on speaking terms,” She sighs. “I think maybe I should break up with him…”

You frown. ‘There she goes being the most dramatic again…’

“Mina, don’t be so damn hasty all the time.” You try to reason with the blonde. “I’m not!” She defended herself. “I’m just tired, y/n. I’m tired of trying to figure him out. I’d rather break up with him before he breaks up with me.”

Mina had never been the girl to get her heart broken. In high school she was the one always doing the heart breaking, so you could tell that it genuinely killed her to love someone as much as she loved Jin, and not know where his head was at regarding their relationship. “I don’t know, Mina… I just know if I was in your shoes with Kookie, I’d try to work things out before I think of the worst possible outcome.”

Mina pouts, but she doesn’t continue to speak. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, you were right. She shouldn’t just jump the gun and break up with Jin. Although he was acting strangely and it was confusing the hell out of her. “You know… I’m jealous of your relationship with Kookie.” She suddenly blurts, causing you to turn to her with a raised brow. “Huh?”

“I’m jealous,” she repeats. “Of you and Jungkook.”

You tilt your head to the side, your eyebrows now scrunched in curiosity. “Why?”

Mina simply shrugs, sitting quietly for a couple of minutes before answering. “You two match, and have an unbeatable connection. You started off as best friends, which played in your favor. I met Jin in the hospital because he had a broken arm. We don’t have the history you and Jungkook have.”

You smile at the compliment towards your relationship, but quickly shake your head. “History isn’t everything. Some people marry their high school sweethearts and breakup. You and Seokjin just need to be mature– or you at least.” Mina whips her head in your direction, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean by ‘or you at least’?”

“I mean that sometimes you’re immature. You tend to freak out when things don’t go your way and storm off like a child.” Mina snarls. “I’m not immature.” She muttered to herself, practically proving your point. The car finally slows down in front of your apartment before coming to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride again, Mina. I appreciate you.”

“Of course. I’m mature enough to pick up my best friend when she needs me.” She glares, your previous comment still not sitting well with her. You shake your head, paying no mind to her attitude. “Bye, Mina. I hope everything works out with Jin.” You pushed open the car door, climbing out.

“Yeah, you and me both.” She mutters her last words before she waits for you to close the car door, speeding off into the distance with you standing there to watch. You let out a sigh, shrugging. What was the point of her asking for your advice if she was always going to dislike what you had to say?

You turn on your heels, walking up the steps that lead to your building entrance. As you venture down the hall to your apartment, you spot a shaggy haired man placing a bouquet of flowers right in front of your front door. A smile forms your face as you see the one person you longed to see after such a horrendous experience. “Kookie?”

The brunette jumps slightly, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. Once he registers that it’s you, he smiles as well. “Well shit, I wanted to surprise you with something sweet when you got off. Guess that’s a fail.” He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling. You shake your head, instantly embracing him with a hug. “It’s not a fail. I’m so happy to see you.” Even though you pretty much talked on the phone with Jungkook everyday, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Jungkook’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist, returning your gentle embrace. “I’m happy to see you too, angel. What’re you doing home so early though? I thought you weren’t off till 8:00?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. You wanted to start crying right there just thinking about what almost happened to you today. You hadn’t told him about your trip to Gongdan yesterday because you didn’t want him to worry, but now you felt as though he deserved to know this time. “I got attacked today.” You take a step back, showing him your torn shirt. Jungkook looks down, dumbfounded at how he hadn’t clocked your ripped shirt when you first walked in.

“By who?!” He shouts. “If it was Yoongi and his gang I swear to god–”

You shush Jungkook, looking around to make sure none of your neighbors were in the hallway eavesdropping. “Let’s talk about this inside, okay?” The brunette is pissed, but he nods, awaiting for you to open your apartment door. He grabs the flowers from the floor as you dig through your purse for your key. ‘I really need to get a keychain for this thing," you thought, finally finding the piece of metal in your bag.

You open the door, and Jungkook wastes no time storming in. He places the flowers on your kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit and explain yourself. Even though he was angry he still focused on your wellbeing. You close the door, unsure if you really wanted to recite the situation. Too late to change your mind now though.

You shuffle to the seat that Jungkook pulled out for you, plopping down. “So? Was it Yoongi’s doing?”

How do you even begin to explain all of this? Yes, but not really? While Yoongi was the reason you ended up in Gongdan, he isn’t the one that attacked you. But he has taken a weird interest in you ever since the Makoto showdown between you and his trusty stooge. If you told Jungkook that though, he'd just spend every moment trying to protect you and probably do something unnecessary to get himself hurt. You didn’t want that.

So, maybe it was best to embellish the truth a bit and leave Yoongi out of it.

“I had a delivery in Gongdan today. Jimin was out sick, and I was the only one that could deliver it. A group of guys attacked me on my way back to the restaurant.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. “You had a delivery at the devil’s playground and you took it? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I had to do my job. I had no choice, Kookie. Mr. Kim wasn’t letting me out of it. Believe me, I tried.” The brunette scoffed, redirecting his anger to Mr. Kim. “I should go down there and kick that old man’s ass,” He muttered. Jungkook was never too fond of Mr. Kim. He thought the old man could be a bit misogynistic.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is now more tender. You shook your head. “No. I’m fine,” You assure him. “The only thing that got hurt is my precious shirt.” You laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “Did they just let you go? How’d you get free?” He pressed on.

“Umm…” you trail off, your thoughts once again wandering to the raven haired man.

“So Wonder Woman, you ready to accept that ride today?”

“They got scared off by someone that happened to be walking by. Lucky me, huh?”

Jungkook sighs smoothly, crouching down in front of your chair. He takes your hands in his, interlocking your fingers. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n. I hate to know you experienced that and I wasn’t there.” He frowns, leering down at your hands. “Jungkook, you’re not gonna be able to be there for everything, and that’s okay. You’re here now, when I need you the most.”

Jungkook looks up at you. “And I’ll stay here.”

“Please remind me to stop letting you pick out movies. You always pick the cheesiest ones.” Jungkook grimaced as you two reached the end of your movie. You wiped stray tears from your eyes, glaring over at your soon-to-be boyfriend. “The Princess Diaries is a classic. I love it.” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, well next time I’m picking the movie. Your selection sucks.”

You gasp, taking a pillow from the other end of the couch. “Take that back.” You cock the pillow, ready to deliver a blow. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry… that you’re ass at picking movies.” You swing the pillow down on him, and his hands go up in self defense as he laughs, his back landing on the couch cushions to better protect his face. You take this advantage to straddle the brunette’s waist, continuing your attack until he ultimately surrenders. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You finally toss the pillow back down to the end of the couch, a victory smirk plastered on your face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Hard not to when I’m being attacked by a pillow.” He looks up at you, still straddling his waist. Jungkook’s hands slowly roam up your legs, stopping to grip your hips. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Your cheeks heated up with the compliment, and you felt a sudden wave of warmth between your legs that made you anxious. This was it. There was no better time than this to lose your virginity to Jungkook.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his pierced ones, the metal was cold against you; Jungkook didn’t hold back, or hesitate the moment your lips were against his. Your mouths moved in sync, but sloppily at the same time as though you both wanted it real bad– and you did. Jungkook’s hands moved from your hips, reaching back to cup your ass in his hands, giving your cheeks a squeeze.

You moaned softly into his mouth, rolling your hips over the rough fabric of his jeans until you felt his cock harden underneath you. Jungkook made sure to assist you, his hands pressing you down harder against his confined length. Your panties were soaked, and your mind was in a daze. You were sure that you had dampened his jeans by now. “Fuck, Y/n…” he muttered in between kisses. “We have to stop before I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop, I want this.” You whine, rolling your hips faster. Jungkook moans, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, I can’t.” He grabs your hips, forcing you to stop. You take the hint, but you can’t help the pang in your chest. Was there something wrong with you? You didn’t get it. What was he waiting for? You climb off of him, taking your place back on the couch.

It’s silent as Jungkook sits up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. “Y/n…”

“Save it,” You cut him short. “You don’t want to have sex with me, I get it.” Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s not true. I do.” He argued. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “So then what’s the problem? I’m always practically giving signals that I’m ready and you’re holding back. You have never done that with any girl you’ve dated before me.”

“You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.”

“Right, I’m y/n, the girl that’s been your best friend for years and the truth is that’s probably all you see me as.” Jungkook says nothing, he doesn’t even bother to argue because that’s just something he hates doing with you. “I uh… I should go.”

“Then go.” You snapped. Jungkook nods, standing up from the couch. As he walks to the front door, he looks back at you. You don’t look his way, you just continue to stare forward. “You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.” He repeats; those are his final words before he opens the door and leaves.

Your eyes brim with tears as you finally turn, looking towards the table where Jungkook’s bouquet of flowers sat.

“Well well well, look who made a full recovery today.” You eye Jimin taking orders as you walk into Makoto. Jimin smiles at you, happy to see you in what felt like forever since you two worked together. “Y/n, it’s good to see you too.” He greets. You cross your arms, not in a greeting mood. “I have a bone to pick with you once you’re done here.” You say, walking back to the kitchen to clock in.

“Y/n, good afternoon. How are you feeling today?” Mr. Kim asks you as you grab an apron from the hook, tying the black fabric around your waist. “It’s a Monday, how am I supposed to be feeling?” You speak dreadfully. You barely got any sleep after what happened last night with Jungkook, and now you were at work. Jungkook hadn’t even called or texted you. Not that you wanted him to right now.

“Well, I meant everything that happened yesterday, how are you feeling today?” He reiterates. You grab a time card, swiping it through the clock. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim.” You walk past him, taking a notepad and pen from the cup holder. Jimin walks back into the kitchen, his face suddenly pale like he was ready to puke. Maybe he was sick.

“Hey, um, there’s someone out there at table three that’s requesting for you to take their order.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. You raise a skeptical brow. ‘Requesting me? Could it be Jungkook?’ You thought. Maybe he wanted to talk in person instead of over the phone. You didn’t see why he couldn’t have waited until your shift was over and come to your apartment, but you didn’t argue with the gesture.

“Okay…?” You walk out of the kitchen towards the dining area. As you scope out table three, you don’t see Jungkook, but in fact, Yoongi, Joon, and two other guys you don’t know. That’s why Jimin looked so sickly. You shake your head, sauntering over to their table. “What’re you doing here? Was yesterday not enough?” You snap at Yoongi.

“Nice to see you too,” the raven laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday is the reason I’m here in person, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you getting your pretty self into any more trouble in my hood.” He smirked. “You remember my boy Joon, don’t you?”

“Wonder Woman, it’s good to see you again.” You glare at Joon, rolling your eyes. You didn’t have time for this. Yoongi was the last person you cared to see right now, and you definitely never wanted to see Nam-joon again. “So are you here to order something or are you here to be the bane of my existence?”

“Depends… are you on the menu?” He bites his bottom lip, looking you up and down. Joon, and Yoongi’s other two minions snicker and you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this pig fest. “Okay, goodbye.” You turn to head back to the kitchen, but Yoongi stops you by grabbing your wrist. “I’m just joking around, sweetheart. I’m here to ask you something.” You pull your wrist from his grip, turning back to face him. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I’m having this kickback at my place tonight. I want you to slide through.” You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion. “What on earth would make you think I’d dare to step foot into Gongdan again? And what makes you think I’d go to your shifty ass warehouse?”

“Well, I just thought after my heroism the other day you would want to thank me more properly.” You scoffed. Mina was right. He was expecting some kind of sexual favor from you. “I knew it. You only helped because you thought you could use me later on. I should’ve expected that from someone like you.” You leave their table, making your way back towards the kitchen, but this time Yoongi stands up from his seat to follow you.

“Princess,” He stops you again, his hand grazing your waist, but he doesn’t fully touch you in a manner that came across as though he was trying to respect your boundaries–for once. He steps in front of you, blocking your way to the kitchen. “It’s not like that. I helped you because I wanted to.”

“Is that so? Because it truly didn’t seem like it just a second ago.” You snarled, crossing your arms. The raven makes a “tsk” sound before continuing on. “Sweetheart, if that’s all I wanted from you then I would’ve made you give it to me right there in the alleyway. Regardless of what happened,” His face was stone cold serious. He meant that. You stood silent, not knowing what to say next.

“Listen… sometimes I have these kickbacks, and they’re a vibe, but it would be better if I saw your pretty face there.” His voice is soft, so soft that you didn’t think someone like Yoongi could produce such a tone. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to take a bus through Gongdan at night.”

“So don’t. I’ll pick you up.”

You sigh, slowly feeling yourself ready to cave in and you didn’t know why. You literally could not stand this man. He was a stalker for fuck sakes. A criminal. And yet… here you were ready to accept his invitation because of one good gesture, and a sudden softness to his voice. Yoongi’s eyes search for yours until they lock, a smile forming his face. For a moment as you're looking into the raven’s eyes you begin to question is he really the monster he makes people believe? Or is that all for looks?

“Hey, can we get the check please?” A customer calls out. Your eyes snap away from Yoongi’s. You had almost forgotten you were at work. “Look, I have to get back to work. I’ll… I’ll let you know.” You take your notepad, writing down your phone number. As you rip the paper from the pad, you actually begin to question your sanity. You hand the paper to Yoongi, his lips tilting in a sly smirk as he takes it.

“I look forward to hearing from you, princess.”

Taglist

@everestwho @sukonsukuna @ejaeee @oppa-agust-d @softlore23 @empty-and-nameless @darkphoenix5037 @agustdsslutt @nepheleindreamland @pennyellee @fairy-jojo @mysweetpianoo @elodieeluvsjk @acquiescence804 @niamscraic @secfir @judebellinghamswife @prettybitxc @forevercarpediem227 @noraaaru @bangtanxcoffee @pamzn @addictedtohobi @bex-92br @mindairy @milomai19 @wolfvmin @wertaix @hanadulset714 @honeynicoole @catlove83 @polipiper @sophiroth @kooslilhoe @legit-min-yoongi-trash-tho @guesswhatimthinking @cynicalbitch666 @cuntessaiii @aloverga @slut4jeon @mamidescarada @officialholyagua @wobblewobble822 @purest-expressionofgrief @multiasf @annacroft23114 @digitalstalker @sugaslittlekookies @rosquilleta @kooksbunnnn

[eyelessfaces]

say yes?

santiago garcia x reader

summary: the first time he asks, you say no. the next few times become a game to him.

warnings: refused proposal, angst (with a good ending), mentions of the operation from the movie, tom is mentioned like once or twice (yes this counts as a warning), brief mentions of ptsd and unhealthy ways to cope with it (drinking), a tiny smut scene

tags: gn!reader, fluff, santi being silly, the first few scenes are really angsty but I promise it mainly gets silly and cute after that!!

please mind that for artistic reasons (lmao), the first few scenes are not following a linear chronology (I wanted to point that out in case it gets confusing)

word count: 3k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

The tip of your fingers drum nervously against the counter; the sound is awful mixed with the aggressive rumbling of the coffee machine. Like every other morning, you watch the birds outside the kitchen window, pecking through the bowl of mixed seeds, and like every other morning, you feel Santiago’s hand gently resting over your lower stomach as the prickle of his stubble scratches your cheek when he kisses it.

You hear him pull the stool to sit at the bar table, like every other morning, and like every other morning, you give him the coffee you just made – though hesitantly, this time – before you make yourself one.

And just like every other morning, he checks on his phone as he waits for his coffee to cool down, the smoke curling up in the air, swirls visible through the ray of sunshine piercing through the kitchen.

You gaze at him, at the way he scrolls through the news page on his phone, your stomach churning at the fact you’re both trying so hard to act like yesterday was an evening like every other one and like this morning is the natural follow up of a perfectly normal situation.

Then, all you can hear is the coffee machine, your coffee pouring and the birds outside, chirping.

“Are we gonna act like nothing happened?” 

He looks up from his phone, to you. 

“Isn’t that what you want?” he quirks an eyebrow at you, his morning voice deep and raspy.

You huff out a small breath through your nose. “No” the coffee machine stops, but you remain facing Santiago. “I want things to be clear between us.”

He puts his phone down onto the counter, with a small chuckle as both of his hands rub the sleep off of his face. “You made things clear sweetheart.”

—

Your body was curled at the edge of your side, your arm hanging off the bed, fingers brushing the cool floor. Sleep had been hard to find, for the both of you; you felt Santiago move behind you across the bed, turning to face the opposite direction. 

How could either of you possibly sleep tonight?

Your heart ached inside your chest, your mind full and feeling like your head was about to explode, so you couldn’t even imagine how he must feel.

“Santi,” your voice was weak, quieter than you had anticipated. 

He hummed softly in response, just enough to let you know he was listening. 

You waited an instant. It all burned your tongue, everything you could possibly say to him.

“I love you” you reminded him, as if innocently trying to press a bandaid over the wide crack you had managed to create earlier. It felt stupid. You knew this wouldn’t fix the broken pieces.

Maybe it was even making things worse.

Santiago could hear the beating of his own heart reverberating through his ears; for you, the room was dead silent, and it remained like this for what seemed to be an eternity, during which you considered leaving the bedroom to take a breath outside, before he finally said, 

“I know.”

—

The ride back home had been oppressively quiet. Santiago's playlist, though playing at the lowest volume, had somehow managed to mingle with the shitload of thoughts running through your mind, and the rhythmic drumming of his fingers against the steering wheel felt like a desperate attempt to ease the sickening tension between the both of you and to make it feel like it all wasn’t awfully awkward.

Back at your shared home, you watched as he slid his jacket over the coat rack like he was on autopilot before you followed, hanging yours beside his. 

You glanced at him as he mindlessly tossed his cap over the couch. It felt like the right moment to address the elephant in the room – though you weren't truly sure there was a right moment to talk about this.

“Santi I–” you started, words dying in your throat, unsure where you were even going. He turned and sat against the back of the couch, knowing where the conversation was headed, his hands shoving into his pockets. “It’s alright,” he said quietly, his voice low, resigned. “You don’t have to explain anything. I get it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to marry you.” you affirmed. His gaze hardened, his lips pressing into a tight line as he looked at you. Out of all the things you could say, he hadn’t anticipated this. 

You could distinctly see the hurt and confusion in his flickering eyes. “Then what is this? Because that’s sure as hell what it felt like tonight.” 

You hated this. Hated to see him ache, knowing it was all your fault. Hated to hear the self defensive sarcasm in his voice – hated to see his conflicted furrowed brow. “It's just– not the right time.” you explained. You took a breath, stepping towards him, getting closer, but not too much. You could already see the frustration building up inside him, you didn’t want him to feel cornered.

“You don't know what you're doing. You're still processing what happened in South America” 

It had only been a month; he was still having nightmares, was still dissociating at random times, was still pouring himself a glass at random times of the day, more often than he should.

You knew you were right. You wondered if he thought you were. 

He stared at you, his expression unreadable, and you talked again when you started to see the defensiveness, the way his mouth gaped slightly as he searched for his words.

“You’re not doing this for us. You’re doing this for you, because you’re scared. You’re scared of things slipping away from you, so you jump head first into things to feel like you have control over your life. That’s what this proposal felt like” 

He rubbed the stubble of his chin, nodding, not like he understood or agreed, like he acknowledged what you were saying. His hand buried in his jeans pocket again. "You think this is just because of what happened? I’ve been sure about this for a long time. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t." his eyes darkened, his jaw working as he processed the conversation. “You think I don’t mean it.” he said quietly, more of a statement than a question.

“I'm not sure,” you pinched your lips, stepping towards him, desperate to make him understand. “I mean, I know you mean it. I know. But Santi… Ever since you came back–” you shook your head. His jaw tightened, the crease of his brows becoming more visible. “You’re trying to hold on to something, to control something, because so much of what happened out there was out of your hands. That proposal– it felt like a reaction to everything, like you’re trying to ground yourself, to finally have control over something in your life.”

He shook his head, a small sigh leaving his mouth. “It wasn’t. I just didn’t want to waste any more time.” he nodded, a pleading look over his face. Your heart clenched inside your chest. “I know it may seem rushed after what happened, with Tom and everything, but–” he stopped when he saw you wince. “I want to make the most of my life. With you”

The confession should make you feel all giddy, just like the proposal was supposed to. It just makes your heart tighten inside your chest.

“So, I’m right.” you raised your eyebrows at the way he just proved your point. “You’re doing this because of the operation.” 

You sighed with a shake of your head, your hand trying to rub away the ache lodged inside your skull. “So no, I don’t want to marry you out of emergency. Ask me again when we have it all sorted out, and I’ll say yes”

He nodded, biting his tongue. He knew he didn't have room to talk back on this, because he knew you were probably right.

“Jesus, Santi” you sighed, shaking your head once again, before you disappeared through the hallway. 

—

“I don’t want you to feel like shit over this,” you say, turning away to pick up your coffee. His lips tighten into a sheepish smile before he brings his own cup to his mouth. 

A soft frown grows over his face as he points a finger at you, his mouth still full. “So, next time,” he starts, having barely finished swallowing his sip. “Bigger ring, better speech, delivery?” he asks teasingly, testing the waters. 

You huff out a small, genuine laugh, relieved he’s taking it lightly, and an easy smile grows over his face when he sees yours.

You lean in against the counter, onto your forearms, humming in reflection. 

“Ring is perfect. Speech, delivery… I’d say save your talent in smoothness for our vows” you grin.

“Okay,” he chuckles, “So we're really getting married at some point” he grins, sliding his hand into yours.

“At some point,” you shrug playfully, gently squeezing his hand. “It just has to be the right time” you nod, more serious now.

“The right time…” he hums pensively, nodding slowly.

—

It starts rather innocently, at first, before it becomes a silly little game to him. 

The tension regarding the proposal has gradually eased between the both of you, and you have managed to find your regular dynamic again, not needing to sleep on opposite edges of your shared bed anymore.

It happens for the first time two weeks after the proposal, while you are getting ready to go to work; you’re almost done brushing your teeth, Santiago standing by your side doing the same, when he asks, out of the blue, “Would this be the right time?”

You frown at his reflection in the mirror, unsure what he means, leaning above the sink to spit out your foaming toothpaste. 

“What?” you ask, turning to him – his toothbrush is hanging from his mouth, his hand holding an open ring box. You freeze, once again, the same way you did the first time. 

“Marry me?” he asks, the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth moving as he speaks, his toothpaste-full mouth making the question almost unintelligible. You would think he’s being serious if he didn’t go back to brushing his teeth with his free hand as soon as he asked the question, and if he didn’t immediately follow into breaking into a laugh, rushing to empty his mouth full of toothpaste in the sink. 

“Very funny,” you sigh, your heart still thumping inside your chest as you watch him rinse his mouth.

“Oh you should have seen your face, babe” he chuckles facing you again, a playful grin plastered over his face. 

“Too bad you will never know my answer to the question,” you tease. He huffs out a laugh, wiping away the bit of dry toothpaste in the corner of your mouth before he kisses you. 

The next time it happens is more spontaneous, less staged on his part and more subtle – though still somewhat gently pushy. 

You’re trying to assemble a shelf, reading over and over again the instruction manual that might as well be written in another language; Santiago’s sighing as he checks every side and angle of the half built piece of furniture, trying to figure out where it went wrong, when he confidently affirms, “If we can get through this, I think we can go through marriage.”

And from there, it goes on, and on. 

It's little jokes about it thrown randomly through the weeks, making you playfully hit his chest with the back of your hand.

It's him getting on one knee, looking up at you with soft eyes, before he eventually just ends up tying his shoe.

It's him opening the ring box at the most random situations.

It all gets so frequent you don’t even get surprised when he kneels to grab something from the shelf when you're out for groceries, then shifting to one knee and dramatically pulling the ring box out of his jacket to present it to you.

“Santi, c’mon, your knees!” you urge him up, offering your hand for help, giggling like a teenager as you look around making sure no one actually thinks he's serious. He laughs and gets up, putting the item he was originally grabbing in the cart. “Are you really carrying that ring everywhere with you?” you scold him, pulling on his arm as you cling to him.

He shrugs. “You never know when it might happen,” he grins playfully.

He's not, in the slightest, kidding. He even does it in the middle of sex once.

He's under you, his grip hot and firm over your hips as you roll against his lap, small gasps leaving your lips swollen from kissing; he pulls your upper body down to his, silencing your desperate moans by licking into your mouth as he fucks up into you, one hand pressed against your back, the other gripping your side. 

His hand comes to rest at your neck once he pulls away. “If this doesn’t make you wanna marry me, I don’t know what will” he breathes out, reaching to his bedside table to grab the small box resting there.

You grip his wrist. “Don’t do that to me. You know I’d say yes to anything right now” you whine, drawing a huffed laugh out of him. “You’re not playing fair”

He laughs into your neck, planting a kiss there.

Spring quickly fades into summer, so it gets more and more frequent for you and Santiago to spend your weekend evenings at the boys’; it is at Will’s place this time, so like each time you’re there, they play poker, and because Benny is a sore loser, he ends up hanging out with you by the firepit, further away from the group. 

“So, are you actually gonna say yes one day?” Benny asks, handing you your glass refill, pulling the empty chair by your side to sit down next to you.

You smile, amused as you take your glass from Benny’s hand. You know the subject is no secret to anyone, but it still manages to make your heart leap inside your chest each time someone mentions it.

“It would require him to actually ask” you say with a tilt of the head before you take a sip of your drink.

Benny hums thoughtfully. 

There’s a silence between you before you can hear a sudden commotion of laughs further away and Frankie’s familiar bragging sneer, breaking the prior focused mood of their poker table. You smile as you watch them, your attention drifting back to Benny when he nudges you with his bottle of beer. “You know, for as long as I’ve known Pope, he’s always had commitment issues.” he nods, a small scoff breaking through. “Could rarely keep a girlfriend long enough for us to see her twice. Hell, you should see how many girls he’s had casual sex with, it’s–” 

“Okay Benny, you don’t have to–” you scoff, holding a hand up to stop him.

“I know, I know, it’s not something you wanna hear” he laughs, shaking his head. 

“What I mean is if the Santiago Garcia I know is asking you to marry him, he means it.” he shrugs, taking a sip of his beer.

“I know,” you mutter casually, like he just said the most banal thing ever when in reality your stomach flutters at Benny’s words and you suddenly feel like a teenager with a crush. 

The night goes on and quiets down until eventually, everyone ends up leaving or going to bed; Will offered his sofa bed for you and Santiago to sleep on, and you both agreed to accept, admitting you were too tired to drive back home. 

“So how many games did you win?” you ask him, sliding underneath the thin cover to press yourself against him. 

He chuckles, extending his arm so you can slot close to him. “Only one” 

“You suck”

He grins at your teasing. “I’ll never be worse than Benny” 

You chuckle, pressing your lips against his stubbled cheek. His hand slides down your back, pulling you even closer against him before he slips it underneath your shirt, his thumb dragging back and forth against your bare skin. 

Your mouths meet when his other hand cups your face, his broad hands roaming onto your sides and back when you fully lie over him, the kiss deepening as his tongue slips into your mouth and you start full on making out; you would be fucked if anyone came by the living room to use the bathroom, but either of you could care less.

“Hm, I could ask you to marry me right now” he hums, barely pulling away from your lips; he’s still so close, so close that you can feel him smile. You chuckle, your hand burying into the short curls at the side of his head. “No, I mean it,” he affirms in a serious whisper, adjusting his position under you. “Look, I’m done joking. Marry me”

You back away, enough to be able to read his expression. 

Something in his eyes tells you he might be serious, this time. “Really?”

He nods. “Yes. Fuck, I don’t even have the ring right now.”

You grin softly, shifting to rest by his side again. “You’re good. You’re really good.” you prop yourself onto your elbow, your other hand resting against his chest. “Because you’ve done it so many times throughout literally months and I’m actually surprised now that you’re asking for real” he smiles at that, his hand resting over yours. 

“You know, I’m still waiting for my answer” he grins. 

You shrug playfully. “Eh, you don’t have any ring, so I don’t know–” you tease, stopping when he rolls over you and presses his mouth to yours. You kiss him back, your hands burying into his hair again. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

He smiles contentedly, his eyes softly roaming over your face.

“I meant it the first time I asked” he admits, pinching his lips into a small smile. You mirror it, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone.

“But I get why you said no. And you were right to. But it’s kinda crazy that it’s now happening in Will’s living room” he snorts up a laugh, and you burst out laughing, before you quiet yourself with the palm of your hand against your mouth.

“I know, right? But it could have been at Walmart, so”

He chokes up a laugh, burying his face against your chest. 

“Yeah, it could have been at Walmart.”

—

any and every feedback/reblog/comment is greatly appreciated and keeps authors going!!

triple frontier taglist:

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @alexxavicry 

@grxywindd @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry 

@jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @luxisluxurious @dowbastan 

@unear7hly @pigeonmama @mari-thesimp

& @missdictatorme :p

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader, pwp, overstimulation, crybaby!reader, aomine is an asshole lmao, 18+

"You're such an asshole."

Your words muffle against his shoulder as you say them - weakened significantly by the way your arms shake when you try and so much as push yourself up.

Aomine laughs. You can feel the reverb in his chest, arms resting comfortably behind his head - a silent refusal to compromise, not even pretending that he'll give you what you want without begging.

"No shit," His words lack any real bite as you press your cheek to his shoulder. "That's what you get for being pissy with me all day,"

You frown. You almost think you could cry but you stubbornly want to refuse. You reject the very idea of his amusement if you did. Aomine isn't the type to coo at you sympathetically - he won't even pretend. You think if you broke out into a fit of sobs because he's being pointed about not putting his dick inside of you, he would laugh far before he'd give you what you want.

It's the thought of that that ends up pushing you to tears really. You manage to hold it in for a few minutes but thinking about it stirs your frustration all over again. He's so calm it's agitating, his heartbeat smooth and steady - the smell of his skin and his strong, broad chest. He's comfortable, stamina ensuring he hasn't even broken a sweat.

That annoying bastard is relaxed after all of that, though he's still so obviously hard.

"You're crying? That fast?" He sounds elated. "Do you really want me fuck you that badly you're gonna cry like a kid over it?"

"Shut up. I hate you," And yes - the answer is you are and yes you do. It's the only thing you want. "Asshole. Jerk."

He laughs. "Don't wanna hear that from you when you threw a fit at me this morning over nothing. Do you really need me to fuck do it? You can do it yourself pretty easy."

You shoot daggers at him, at his demeanor - at the way he still seems totally unbothered. He knows you can't. He's the reason you can't.

Aomine's version of conflict resolution usually resorts to sex. Not all the time, but for petty arguments that need to resolve tension - he leans into it. Worse? It usually works. It was his solution today too - when you woke up in a worse mood than normal and took it out on him when he didn't deserve it.

You apologized to him afterwards but you didn't get out of your mood. Half-past noon, he simply hauled you into the bedroom and locked the door. He felt slighted still and said he had a good way to take care of it.

You've cum more than a few times With his hands, with his mouth, pushing up against the ridges of his abs. You've been at it so long you're exhausted and you've cum so fucking much you can feel your own wetness clinging to your skin. Silky cunt sticky from arousal, dripping and throbbing dully. You can't hold yourself upright, can barely move - but there's still that deep, frustrating ache in your gut.

Still that horrible feeling of emptiness gnawing at you. You haven't been edged, but it's not what you want. It's not scratching the itch for you. It's not enough to cum without him fucking you.

And he knows that. Better than anyone. You never really cared before but Aomine is different. Aomine makes it feel good. Fucks you well and fucks you deep - makes you cum while he's still inside which feels incredible.

Somewhere along the line - he must've figured out the same thing you did. And somewhere along the line, he deliberately decided that his best course of action was making you beg for it.

He doesn't really care about your fits. He just likes to fuck with you.

Another sniffle and wave of tears wracks over you as you press yourself up against his neck. Who care if you're being whiny? You're annoyed and you're horny.

He's not even going to do anything about it.

"Are you trying to get sympathy points so I'll fuck you instead of making you do it? I'm not that soft-hearted, you brat." His words don't match his tone of his voice, his hands. "And you're not very convincing."

"Shut up. I should've gone out with Kuroko years ago. He would never make me cry."

"Watch it." He warns. "He couldn't fuck you like I do anyway."

"It'd feel better than you not fucking me at all. And he's nicer."

He rolls his eyes.

"You get a little worked up and you're thinking about being unfaithful. I don''t fuck you enough, you get moody with me.." He spouts off, shaking his head. He moves his arms lower, throwing one on your waist. "If you need my dick this badly, don't you think you should just ask me for it like a good girl? Then I wouldn't have to make you cry."

"Dai-kun," Your voice is huffy still, even to your own ears. "Daiki,"

"Tell me what you're making a fuss over."

This is humiliating. You're going to strangle him as soon as your head is on straight.

"I want you to fuck me, you jerk." You curl your hands up at his chest and barely push yourself up to look at him. You're expecting him to look smug but there's more sincerity there and it makes you choke. "Want your dick inside me. Do it for me."

"Spoiled brat." He manhandles you into position. Moves you until your hips are hovering right over the thick tip of his cock. Your body shudders responsively, forearms shaking from effort as you attempt to hold yourself up while Aomine sinks you down onto his length. "Can't even bother saying please."

In one swift motion, all at once - Aomine forces his cock into your warm, wet cunt.

It knocks the air out of your lungs, your waist going weak from the sheer arousal of finally getting what you need. Your eyes shoot open, stars in your vision as you tremble violently. The familiar pressure in your abdomens makes your knees weak, pussy throbbing and aching as Aomine groans and bottoms out insde of you. Elation swells inside of you, pure arousal making your brain feel like static.

You moan so loud it startles you. Relief floods your system as you cling onto Aomine's shoulder and forgive him so immediately it embarrasses you. His hand smooths over your sides and your lower back - holding your spine.

He kisses you. Neck and shoulder before kissing your lips, so unexpectedly gentle until you melt into him.

When you pull away to face him, he pinches your cheek hard making you yelp.

"Not so hard to be honest, is it? Now stop whining so I can fuck you forreal."

[cosmicstarlatte]

Mexican Restaurant (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

You and the brothers got hungry and end up at an authentic hole-in-the wall Mexican restaurant. They decide to put their spanish to the test.

»Characters: Demon Bros

»Tags: Bilingual (Spanish/English) Bulleted style fic, Gender Neutral, Pathetic Lucifer lmao

»Note: Sorry if the grammar/spelling is off. Ye ye, I'm Mexican but my spanish is okay at most. 💀

Lucifer:

"Es picante? Lo quiero ordenar." (It's spicy? I want to order it.)

Ordered first

He didn't want you to translate for him

He wanted to use his limited Spanish to impress you

Wouldn't stop smirking since he felt like he was quite impressive

Until Mammon took over

Bitterly ate his enchiladas

He didn't understand what guapo (handsome) meant but heard it frequently in his direction

His pride wouldn't let him ask you

Sulked for the rest of the night

You asked if he was okay

"Si."

Mammon:

" Y esto cuanto cuesta? QUE!? " (And this is how much? WHAT!?)

Yeah he picked up *some* Spanish due to possible illegal activities

Took advantage of the free chips and salsa

Ordered steak fajitas

Sung and danced with the band

Yeah he was kind of drunk

Wore the title of "El Mamon" proudly without knowing it can be translated to "Idiot" in Spanish

"No te preocupes, yo te cuido" (Dont worry I'll take care of you)

Got his and your meals taken care of by the end of the night

The people hope to see El Mamon [affectionate] again, he's always welcome

Levi:

"Hola! Mi nombre es Leviathan!" (Hello! My name is Leviathan!)

Wanted to impress you so he refused to have you help him

Just pointed at something at the menu

"Por favor!" (Please!)

"El especial es muy picante...seguro que lo quieres? '...si!?' " (The special is very spicy...are you sure you want it? ...yes!?)

Was confused when they brought a crowd with his food

Held back his tears while he ate El Diablo Fuerte burrito challenge

"Mm..so...good..."

Passed out after saying that

For once, Levi's embarrassing scene made Lucifer feel better

Satan:

"Si, tamales por favor." (Yes, tamales please.)

Also a little fluent but not like Mammon

Practiced his Spanish with you, it was pretty cute tbh

Could practically eat from Lucifer's bitter energy alone

Learned to flirt with you in spanish

Took a chance and danced with you

Smirked at Lucifer while dancing

Asmo:

"Hola!" (Hello!)

Only the most basic of Spanish words

Wasn't shy to admit he needed help with the menu so you sat very close and translated

Worked extremely well in his favor

Levi shot daggers at him while Lucifer continued sulking

Ordered a carne asada quesadilla platter

Posted an unconscious Levi on DevilSnap

Him and Mammon made the place livelier than usual

Ended up dancing and flirting with the server

Got his entire meal for free

Beel:

"Dame todo. 'Que?' Todo." (Give me everything. 'What?' Everything.)

Ron Swanson™️ energy

It's the only Spanish he ever needs when ordering so he gets by every time

Happily shared a little bit of everything with you

Upset that Belphie got in the way of spoon feeding you some churro ice cream

Finished Levi's burrito with ease

Asked the server for seconds

His bill paid for the restaurants rent for the month

Got a little jealous of everyone dancing with you

Yes he made his move and got his chance

Was the one to carry Levi back to the hotel

Belphie:

"Ayudame?" (Help me?)

Can actually navigate the menu on his own

He's use to it because of Beel

Wanted the same experience you gave Asmo

Which he got (much to Lucifers dismay)

But he ordered himself when the server came

"Horchata y birria tacos por favor." (Horchata and birria tacos please.)

Horchatas his favorite drink. I will die on this hill

You asked "Belphie do you actually know some spanish?"

" I just said I needed help. I never said I didn't know."

Was the one to tell Mammon to call himself El Mamon

Lucifer and Levi lost this one. 😔 What adventure will we go on next? 🤭

⬦You might also like: Coconut︱Devil-Mart⭐︱Waffle House︱You ARE The Father

[stoutguts]

A Pint of Comfort (💀🧼) PART 1

(first time rlly writing a full length fic like this, so be nice okay?)

Tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, the definition of hurt/comfort, mutual pining (kind of?????/just barely (idk, I'm kind of bad with tropes), lots of crying (and suggestive kissing), Ghost has Astraphobia,—Johnny helps Simon through a PTSD episode, while also finally getting a much needed point across 💖

possible CW/TW for PTSD, flashbacks, Ghost's canon backstory, very subtly implied NSFW at the very end lmao, and implied parental/child ab*se

It’s a stormy Saturday evening, and all seems well.

The quiet swooshing and howling of the wind, the symphony of raindrops pelting down on the streets,—on the roofs of houses. Only interrupted by the occasional low rumbling, with lightning dancing across and lighting up the dark sky.

The only downside is the slightly gloomy and depressing atmosphere. Caused by those nasty gray, dark storm clouds clogging up the sky like a fatty artery.

Rearing their ugly heads.

Soap has always enjoyed weather like this,—in his youth he’d always found it peaceful. He doesn’t know exactly why, but he’s always thought Mother Nature was something behold.

He just takes a minute to watch the rain underneath the shitty awning outside the tavern. Somewhat entranced.

He had met up with Price, Nikolai, Gaz, and Roach for drinks earlier that afternoon. (Having nothing better to do). (After all, he already had visited his sisters and family up in Scotland, and all of them still happened to be on leave,—so why not)? Though he hadn’t drank all that much, as,—according to him,—he “just wasn’t feeling it today”. (In actuality, he was worried about Ghost).

Johnny only having just wrapped up, and parted ways with everyone.

Nik and Price left together, while Kyle and Gary were joined at the hip as they walked out of the bar—as was customary. Usually he would be going home with Simon,—but today he was by himself.

Ghost was gonna tag along and go, but ultimately (and reluctantly) decided against it.

It wasn’t because they were feeling antisocial or that he didn’t want to go, (as that’s typical). (Though then again, Simon had stopped being such a recluse long ago, and it wouldn’t have bailed on them just for that). They were just sick with a 102.9 fever, and some nasty flu-like symptoms.

In fact, Ghost was bummed out about not being able to go.

“Ye need to get sum rest, I dinnae want ye to die on mae here”, Soap says firmly, though half-joking on that last part.

“I’m perfectly aw’righttttt,—seriously,—pleaseee?“, Simon replies deliriously, attempting to sit up in bed. Slurring it’s words, with it’s accent as thick as tar. Though equally exaggerating their tone and voice playfully, to sound exasperated.

*HA-choo!*

“Ye most certainly are naw—Just please,—*sigh*—get sum rest for mae sake…please?”, Johnny pleads, already exhausted, as he lays Ghost back down. Wringing out the washcloth, having dipped it into the bucket of ice water next to their bed, before placing it back over his forehead.

“…..Fine…”, Simon grumbles tiredly, finally giving up, (after half an hour of whining and insisting that they’re okay to go). Completely defeated, it turns on it’s side away from Soap, (the wash cloth sliding off his forehead, and now resting on his pillow). Pouting like a child.

“I promise, mo chridhe, ah’ll be back soon. Dinnae get up or annae’thang, just rest", Johnny coos, leaning over to kiss Ghost on the cheek and bury his face in their neck. Slowly moving his hand down his body to cup one side of his waist.

Simon shudders a little at the touch, the smallest, almost inaudible, groan leaving it's throat at fingers digging into their skin.

"Do'ya know when you'll be home exactly? Ya'know…I get lonely...", Ghost says, his vulnerability in that moment hurts Soap, though still (quite literally) refusing to face Johnny. The sultry manner in which they said it too,—made Soap blush profusely…

He pauses for a moment to get his bearings—

“Ah’ll be home as soon as I can, ye know how the boys are…or can be—he (lovingly) rolls his eyes at the thought—Ah’ll be home by 8 or 9 at the latest,—mae thinks”, Johnny answers.—Now feeling like he also kinda doesn’t feel up to it anymore,—but ignores it. As he won’t hear the end of it of neither of them show up.

He then goes to lift off of Simon,—before his partner’s sitting up, and he’s pulled into an abrupt kiss.

It was passionate, and as the pair’s lips part, a small trail of spit remained before breaking off.

“I’ll be waiting for you,—please,—stay safe. I love you”, Ghost says gazing up at him with half-lidded heterochromatic eyes, before moving it’s gaze elsewhere and laying back down.

“Aye, I will. Love ye too”, Soap says with a chuckle, briefly brushing his hand through the tiny blonde hairs of their buzzed head.

Johnny could have sworn he heard him snoring, fast asleep, just before walking out the door.

“Poor thang. Tha’ bug’s really taking a lot out of ‘em”, he thinks to himself as he leaves.

Stay tuned for the other parts! (Breaking this up into parts, as it's kind of a long one).

Part 2 will probably be up by tomorrow!

[http-tokki]

You were meant to be mine

~prohero!bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: aged up bakugou, toxic bakugou, smut, explicit language, possessive/toxic relationships, dark content, borderline abusive relationship, dub con ~ wc: 840

Katsuki doesn't handle your breakup very well; psychotic levels of not handling things well. From constantly texting and calling, sending flowers, showing up at your job, waiting outside for you to get off work, following you to the gym, and walking behind you as you rush home, Everything that could warrant you getting a restraining order, but because he is a hero and has the entire fucking system in his pocket, everyone brushes it off as him being concerned for the wellbeing of his girlfriend. 

Your phone blinks again with a new message. 

Answer your phone. I need to talk to you.

More messages follow.

Baby, please, I miss you. Call me.

I'm sorry, can you please call me.

Answer your fucking phone. I swear to god. 

I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to be so rude. Please just answer your phone or call me. I need to talk to you. 

Baby, please.

You refuse to answer, fearing to let him back in because you love this type of desperation. A small part of you screams in joy every time a message comes through, excited to see how much he begs for some form of contact. Bakugou needed you, the great pro hero was metaphorically on his knees for you, pleading with you, and you weren't ready to give that up. 

Princess, I'm begging you. Answer me before I lose my fucking mind. Please, angel, talk to me.

Your stomach twists, and you're so close to giving in and texting him to come over and bend you over the couch so he can fuck you good and dumb, filling you up so you are tied to him forever. You bite down on your bottom lip, teeth digging into ravaged flesh as you battle your logical self. Logic wins out, and you let your phone ring all night. 

Umm, idk what I was going to write here because there was a massive gap, but it was filler about you hanging out with Izuku, cause you two were close before you and Katsuki got together, and that's what sends Bakugou over the edge. He then breaks into your house, and this is the scene we have, lmao. I told y'all this is draft dumping.

So you get home one day, and he is sitting on your once-shared couch. All the lights are off to avoid giving him away in case you had brought home Izuku. Katsuki's imagination had run wild with that scenario. There were two paths he could go down. One, chase Midroiya out of your apartment with the little knife he had bought with him, ending his hero image, OR make Deku watch while he fucks you, reminding you and his former friend who you belong to. Either way, he was about to ruin his future and didn't care. You were getting back together with him even if he had to hold you hostage. You only notice someone else is in your apartment when you hear his boot knock against the coffee table. You jump, shopping bags falling from your hands as they fly towards your bag, searching for the pepper spray you keep.

"Relax, it's me." he drawls from the darkness. 

Your heart stops as you recognise the voice. "What the fuck, Katsuki?" your fingers wrap around the small aerosol in your bag. 

The couch creaks as he stands. "I could ask you the same thing," heavy footsteps echo in your still-dark apartment. "Deku? Really?"

"Yes, because we are friends. Am I not allowed to have friends?" 

Katsuki's chuckle is low and menacing. "No, because I saw the way he looked at you, and I don't like it," you feel the warmth radiating off his body as he stops before you. "Only I'm allowed to look at you like that. I'm the only one who can think about you that way." He places a hand against your chest, fingers digging into your collarbones, itching to reach up and wrap around your throat. "I'm the only one who can kiss you the way you like" You feel his lips ghost along your cheek.

Your grip on the can of mace slackens, your whole body giving into his touch as his other hand rests on your hip. 

"I'm the only one who can grab you like this" his fingers slide up to the base of your throat, squeezing lightly. "the only one who can slide their cock in your mouth and watch you gag and drool while you try so hard to swallow me" the hand on your hip tightens, pulling you closer against his hard body. Your head spins at the closeness, your heart pounding in your chest, and your stomach twisting because you're going to fuck him. You've decided that you're about to fuck your crazy stalker, yet hero boyfriend turned ex in your doorway, and would you come out of it alive? At this point, you didn't care. 

"Do you want me to do that?" Katsuki's mouth ghosts over yours. "Do you want my cock in you, huh?" 

a/n: thats all i got lmao

[writtenontheport]

Walk Me Home?

George Karim x (gn) Reader

Pt. 4: Somewhere in Between (pt. 1) (pt. 2) (pt. 3)

Warnings/Tags: Bit description heavy, Lockwood and co friendship, Shorter than usual I’m so sorry 😭, This part is more of like… it’s a buildup to the next part, That part oooooh I have something for it!!, Quite a few things actually, but this part is mostly build up, Rising Action kinda move 🤞, Mild arguing and swearing, Slow Burn (LMAO!!) , The characters are quite ooc in this one, They are all INCREDIBLY SILLY ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

Notes: I usually write longer I promise it’s just that I’ve been struggling to write a bit!! Mostly why I took that break yesterday, but I needed to at least get this lore important part out 🤞🤞 I needed reader to meet Lucy and Lockwood for what I’m scheming to do in the next part… This series is SO self indulgent my silly ass is cackling. I imagined book Lockwood and his silly ass and couldn’t stop thinking about the characters acting as genuine, embarrassing people and like— I’m sorry Lucy my love… you got sillified.

Summary: You meet George’s friends and it goes as well and as horribly as he thought it would. Just for today, the library can rest.

When George first introduced you to Lucy and Lockwood, he already knew you all would hit it off. At first you were nervous; your smile wobbly as you kept yourself small, so George linked pinkies with you and didn’t let go until he was sure you were ok. From the corner of his eye he could see your expression turn soft and adoring, grateful in the way you tighten your knuckle around his. From there you found enough confidence to ease yourself into their dynamics.

Lucy adored having you around. George wondered if having her whole life defined by the problem made her crave for some sense of what normalcy they were owed growing up. He was lucky enough to find it with you in the library and in cobble-steeped walks before curfew, but Lucy’s never really had that with anyone.

Watching you both chatter away from him and Lockwood, he’s glad she could find it in you, too. She seemed relaxed whenever she sat beside you, and her voice was filled with more wonder than he had heard since they’d met. Often times, Lucy would whisper something that had you ducking your head coyly, avoiding George’s eyes. He didn’t know what that was about, but the self-satisfied smirk Lucy had after made him rather suspicious.

Lucy would tell him (after he had walked you home) that he did good finding you and confirmed that she had immediately been taken with you and wanted to be friends. Something in George felt reassured when she insisted ‘only friends’, but she did so with a teasing smile that had him glaring at her playfully.

Lockwood took to treating you like you’ve always been one of them, ever kind and charming as he always was. He was fascinated with news about the world at large (ever the gossip), and seemed to eat up anything you could tell him about what life was like without ghosts on the streets. Whenever Lucy wasn’t hogging you, Lockwood was either having you tell your own anecdotes or sharing his newspaper clippings. He certainly looked the part of a child dragging about their new friend to play, puffing his chest proudly with every framed photo he showed off.

When George asked him about what he thought of you, Lockwood clicked his tongue and whined at him for not bringing you sooner. That was a very good sign, but it was terrible for George because Lockwood had gone a 30 minute spiel about who knows what (George tuned him out at some point early on).

A lot of the time you spent visiting, though, the two of them teased you and George as they asked for the details George refused to share. It surprised you to know that he hadn’t even told them about the nature of your first meeting before he mimed zipping his mouth shut and you grinned.

“Yes, well, I’ve actually forgotten,” You hummed, linking your pinky with George’s under the table.

You all moved to the dining table near the end of your visit to Portland Row, eating biscuits and drinking tea. George made sure to tell you about the one biscuit rule, but occasionally turned a blind eye when Lucy or Lockwood offered you an extra. They shot him knowing looks he refused to meet while he focused on the comfort of your voice.

“Really?” Lucy asks amusedly, raising a brow, “From the one thing George’s told us, it doesn’t sound forgettable.”

“What’d he say about it?” You were genuinely curious, leaning in with a wide smile.

Lockwood, ever excitable, added, “Well, it was very strange. Said something about owing you shoes apparently? You don’t suddenly owe someone new shoes just after meeting them.”

“George has never owed me shoes,” You balk, turning to eye George, “And he should know it absolutely wasn’t his fault what happened to my shoes.”

George simply sips on his tea as his pinky squeezes at yours, your searching gaze softening into a smile.

“Have you seen a ghost yet?” Lockwood asks, a bit out of the blue.

Beside you, George cuts him off with a stern reply and Lucy leans in to whisper to you in the midst of George’s and Lockwood’s argument.

“Has he actually not shown you any ghosts yet? I would have thought he might’ve. ” Her eyes twinkled in mischief.

“I haven’t seen a single ghost since meeting George. Mind taking me to see one one day, Lucy? Let’s leave these two bickering and have a day of our own,” You suggested, reaching over the table to offer a hand.

She takes it, and with a smirk says, “Any day, just tell me when and where.”

Little did you know that there was a ghost right under your nose in a little glass jar somewhere in the house; that she had meant that literally.

Lucy and Lockwood send you and George off like kids do with Santa after Christmas; George can’t seem to get enough of your smile all the while. He doesn’t deign the two’s teasing with a response before he’s grabbing your hand and dragging you down the sidewalk away from them, giggling and laughing as you rushed along.

Neither of you bring up the fact that this was entirely new, you simply slid your hand into his proper and followed along with a coy grin. George did the best he could to hide the growing uptick of his lips by keeping his eyes away from where yours focused on him fully.

“That went well,” George says, clearing his throat. You bit your lip and shrugged, bumping his shoulder with yours in a motion that has him glaring at you. It’s a playful thing as much as it is a warning, and try as he might you know damn well George could easily find ways to get back at you if you pulled a prank on him. The glaring eases up quickly, but the tenderness in his eyes doesn’t; it’s almost dizzying if it wasn’t so adoring.

“Lucy promised to take me to see a ghost one of these days,” You hum, watching his expression fall into absolute vehemence.

“Absolutely not. I already have to deal with those two risking their lives every case already.”

“It won’t be on a case…” You grumble under your breath, kicking at a stray rock he watches tumble far off to the side. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your work like that. Plus, you could come! I’m sure Lucy won’t mind.”

He pretends to think on it, shrugging with his brows raised in the little motion that says he could be convinced. It’s a good enough sign for you when he finally concedes; “As long as Lockwood doesn’t come with. He’d somehow convince us all to make it some suicidal mission to take down London’s ghosts for fame again.”

“Again?” You balk, squeezing George’s hand in worry, “George, what do you mean again?”

A/N: I know I usually start and end it off at the library and at reader’s (temporary) home, but I just… I had to get this meeting out for now!! I needed reader to meet Lucy and Lockwood it was important!!! I promise this is plot relevant

[miridicalkalon]

10 RANDOM HEADCANNONS

(link for generator here)

I. ᅠ〝 Atsushi almost drank the lethal dosage of caffine once. there's a reason Atsushi is a tea drinker over coffee, I will say yes and it was the worse mistake of his life!!

II. ᅠ〝 Atsushi can't handle criticism. He can handle it, but know he will overthink it for the rest of his life. even the smallest criticism will become 20xs worse in his head. Atsushi will be crying about this later. :)

III. ᅠ〝Atsushi got hit by a bus once. No, but with his luck. don't put it past you, it might be in the next chapter or arch.

IV. ᅠ〝 Atsushi wakes up on November 1st and starts decorating for Christmas. And kyoka, Kenji, Kyusaku, Tanizaki, anyone who wants is absolutely helping him. yep, he loves Christmas now!

V. ᅠ〝 Atsushi is oblivous to any and all romantic interest someone may show them. I mean— yeaaah, he'll assume any and all romance gestures are just friendly unless you straight up tell him or doing the most obvious flirting.

VI. ᅠ〝Atsushi doesn't know how to say "no". He absolutely does, unless you're kyoka or kenji or etc. lmao he will absolutely tell you no for any reason.

VII.ᅠ〝Atsushi believes in Santa. listen . . . . I want to say no. I really do, but that'd be a lie.

VIII. ᅠ〝 Atsushi watches My Little Pony. Friendship IS magic, Fyodor Dostoevsky!

IX. ᅠ〝Atsushi has a diary that they write in with a glittery gel pen. Atsushi refuses to say because he has a very noisy partner at the desk next to him named dazai.

X. ᅠ〝Atsushi knocks people over by hugging them. Kunikida is the victim of this yes. not even a headcannon just yes.

Tagged by : @ninkaku ( Thank you for the tag this was fun! )

Tagging: @theircurse ( any of your accounts! ) @kaizokugaris, @metancy , @lovehungered , @lovcn, @diianxie, @huagushi, @phasmascript, @sekayuki , @fuginro + whoever would like to join! feel free to!

[emblazons]

a post in defense of (a very much alive) S5 Jonathan Byers

under the cut b/c this is more frustrated commentary than strict analysis, and you shouldn't have to read if you don't want to.

I feel like it must have come from the dry spell between seasons, but I have to say it: all of this “Jonathan is gonna die and that means Stancy could happen” stuff lately is not only giving "I just like angst for its own sake," it's lowkey nonsense if you look at it thematically (in context of the Jon/Nancy/Steve madness yes, but especially in context of the Byers family).

—like? Friends.

Given the Duffer’s track record of refusing to fully kill off major characters even when it could have made sense to (cc: Hopper and Max), I don’t think anyone is actually meeting their end, but let’s be SO serious about who is actually likely to get axed: the boy with a mom, brother, step-sister and girlfriend who have been central to every single moment in this show…or the one they've put into a triangle we all thought was over until S4, who they’ve honestly written into a corner, & whose primary drive in four entire seasons was getting a girlfriend and protecting a bunch of teenagers?

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just talk Jonathan.

The Duffers (Matt especially) have openly gotten upset at even the notion of Mike dying because "that's depressing" AND "that's Nancy's brother" (showing the familial ties are a HUGE part of what would keep them from ending someone), in addition to them saying they've thought through every imaginable scenario" on who might die—

—and you think its Jonathan whose meeting his end? King of championing "not liking what you don't have to" and the outcasts in all areas from music taste to being queer...after all the Byers have been through and knowing The Duffers write toward championing the outcasts and those who embrace their differences?

That, combined with the fact that the only "evidence" I've ever seen for him potentially dying has been that speech he gave to Will in the SBP somehow being connected to (you guessed it) setting up angst for Will...I'm gonna take a hard and wild educated guess based on the entirety of the rest of the show and say that was literally written so Will could catch a goddamn break, not as a death tag.

The fact that Noah confirmed it wasn't in the Duffer's OG script, was written day of filming + was done because "it was important for people to see will wasn't alone" is evidence enough for that.

Even so, the fact that there are still at least 4 unresolved plots Jonathan is part and privy to makes his death even less likely, because it wouldn't make sense for resolving anything for him to die at all, never mind in the episodes before our supposed timeskip.

Jonathan's messy relationship with Nancy, the fact that he's the only one who actually knows Will is gay, and the fact that he's the only other character who saw & understood the ULTIMATE Chekhov's gun in the form of that painting (on top of also having a longstanding relationship with Mike )should make it clear he isn't going anywhere from a narrative perspective...and I'm not even sure where the idea that he would die popped up, other than fandom warping the canon and projecting onto the plot.

The Duffers have always been clear about not doing things solely for the sake of surprise + not liking things that don't make narrative sense...and Jonathan's death would be both of those things, done solely for shock value.

I just. Be so serious right now. if you want to imagine the weight of Jonathan dying SOLELY for fandom angst DO THAT...but don't pretend like his death in the show wouldn't be the most poorly foreshadowed thing in this entire show, on top of not matching a single theme of the ongoing Stranger Things narrative. ☠️

Put some respect on his name lmao

Bonus: If you really want to talk about character's dying (and not just jump into angst for its own sake): they haven’t given Steve a proper love interest EVER outside of Nancy, made Dustin cry over Eddie instead of staying close to Steve S4, and haven’t ONCE referenced that boy’s family properly more than a few times in passing (and only by Steve himself).

He is the only character who craves normalcy despite this show being about championing the outcast, was supposed to die seasons ago but stayed because Joe Keery was so beloved, and has now been written into a corner where every single person who is central to him (esp Dustin and Robin) either have a new love interest or are worried about something else more than him, which...if you want canonical evidence for a possible death, you're looking in the wrong corner of this love triangle.

[kairiscorner]

spider noir in a noli au

i can imagine him at the first chapter (yun ba yun) of noli where they were shit talking the native filipinos and noir just chimes in saying, "well you know, the people here are probably only uneducated because... you won't give them an education? hence, you lot (the colonizers) are backwards for not providing them with the necessary graces these lovely people need to live. you're blaming them for your own lack of a mind."

he'd see you as a PERSON and not as a SLAVE. especially if you were a poor indio forced into slavery for a big mestizo/mestiza, HE'D WORK, FIGHT, AND BUY YOUR WAY OUT OF SERVITUDE FOR THEM BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU AND HATES SEEING YOU CHAINED DOWN TO THIS KIND OF LIFE.

he'd be so close to basilio and crispin, and when crispin crispun down the stairs... he was never the same : ( he felt super bad for sisa and was so regretful that he couldn't get those boys out of there any quicker.

i think the guardia civil and higher ups there would've hated him LMAO, but he doesn't care, he's gonna fight his way out of this, keep you safe, and marry you one day.

he wants half-filipino kids, he knows they'd have the cutest eyes and the prettiest complexion to him

HE'D TAKE YOU OUT ON A BOAT RIDE AT NIGHT AND UNDER THE LIGHT OF THE STARS AND THE MOON, AS THE CRICKETS SING AND AS THE ALITAPTAP SURROUND YOU GUYS, HE'D SING OLD LOVE SONGS HE LEARNED IN TAGALOG WITH YOUUUU

he refuses to speak spanish and only talks to in tagalog.

HE BURNS COPIES OF TANDANG BASIO MACUNAT BECAUSE HE KNOWS IT'S BULLSHIT

when you two are riding a kalesa, he holds on to you tightly because he doesn't want you to get hurt when the roads get bumpy, and bc it's an excuse to get close to you :)

HE DOESN'T HATE THE TULISANES TBH, he gets why they're the way they are, but he will not hesitate to FUCK THEM UP IF THEY SO MUCH AS TOUCH A SINGLE STRAND OF HAIR ON YOUR HEAD

he has expressed wanting to marry you and love you for the rest of his life so many times, and how eager he is to wait for your answer, be it a yes or a no, be it today, tonight, tomorrow, or until he's old--just never leave him without telling him a yes or no.

"aking minamahal... hindi ko masasabi sayo ang lahat ng pagmamahal na nararamdaman ko para sayo. ngunit, kung papayagan mo ako, mamahalin kita panghabangbuhay. hihintayin kita para sayong sagot, kahit ibibigay mo ngayong araw, ngayong gabi, bukas o hanggang ako'y matanda na... ikaw parin ang mamahalin ko't hihintayin ko. huwag mo lang akong iwanan ng hindi mo pa akong sinasagot; kahit 'oo' o 'hindi' ang iyong sagot... ikaw parin ang tanging minamahal at mamahalin ko."

a/n: I CAN'T HE'S SO RIZAL CODED

tags !! @thecoolerdor @binibinileonara @connors-cumslurper @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3

[theboy-thebitch-thelegend]

if u dont want my long ass rambling about Alastor, and some minor spoilers, dont look 😅 but he's my blorbo and therefore i'm studying him like a fucked up little bug (affectionate)

I see Alastor's character as a combination, mainly, of three main traits/motivations, plus one that i'm more guessing on but wouldnt surprise me:

1. he lacks empathy. this isn't a moral judgment, just a trait he displays

2. he seeks freedom above all else, but if asked, would rather admit to seeking power above all else. i believe his attempts to gain power are (consciously or not) a means to the end of freedom, not vice versa

3. he sorts people (demons, angels, whatever) into two categories: those he has control over, and those he doesnt. he is capable of respecting and forming relationships with only the latter category. not saying theyre healthy relationships, but they are often at least somewhat functional and prove lasting

...

the fourth (speculation) is that he hates himself lmao. which i think gets very intertwined with number 3. he's very self centered, that's just his view of the world(s). he has more respect for people who he has trouble controlling because he sees them as being in the same category as himself (as opposed to them being in the broader general category of a puppet audience beneath him). however he's not able to feel anything much deeper for them, because if his only lenses are "idiots" vs. "people like me", well. he has no respect for the former and no capability for love of the latter.

...

i think his inability to feel empathy or love leads him to have interesting motivations. freedom through power is perhaps the main one, as i mentioned. but when he first came to the hotel he stated his main goal was to be entertained. while he definitely had additional motives, i do think that was a true statement.

i think he's fascinated by Charlie because, well. she's the princess of hell. she should theoretically be one of the most powerful beings there. she *could* rule hell with an iron fist, if she wanted. but she doesnt. and i think Alastor wanted to see what that was about, i think it intrigued him.

right off the bat, she refuses to make a deal with him. that choice solidly places her in the "people he respects" category, by virtue of her keeping grasp on her own power and freedom. since that's Alastor's main goal for himself, it makes sense that he is drawn to others who manage to achieve it. if she'd taken a deal, the rest of the season wouldve gone way differently.

and probably, not as entertainingly.

one of the key parts of entertainment is that you don't quite know what's going to happen next. for a control freak like Alastor, that's hard to come by, unless he himself *is* the entertainment (which is a big part of his character). but he stated he came to the hotel to BE entertained. i see that as an admission that he didnt know what to expect from the hotel. which, coming from a powerful being, is quite a compliment- almost a statement that he believes in them.

i think Charlie challenges those fundamental categories that he puts people in. he can't sort her into either one. he can't control her, but she's nothing like himself. he knows she has something he doesn't. and unlike most other people, it's not something he can take from her to acquire for himself:

the ability to love.

as i said in the tags of a post i just reblogged:

#i think its interesting that the night before the fight tho when he's talking about getting used to the lot of them #it almost seemed a bit wistful #like i always knew he was fighting for his own goal whatever that may be #and yes he'll make alliances and stay loyal to them #but i really do think he was starting to wish it could be deeper than that #i dont know if he considers himself capable of it #we know he has old friends #not just strategic alliances but what actually appear to be friendships by every outward definition #but i dont think he's allowed himself (or believed himself able to) actually *feel* something for them #even when he can and will play the role of a friend and ally for various reasons #i think the hotel started to 'work' on him more than he anticipated #he didnt quite get to the point of truly feeling love for them #loyalty, protectiveness, willingness to avenge- yes. but he didnt feel love for them quite yet #but i think he wanted to. #ultimately he still was fighting for freedom (and i think his attempts to gain power are to that end, not vice versa). but i think he #did at least *want* to feel love even if he wasnt quite able to yet #and i think thats the only reason he didnt die.

in the battle, he lost his microphone, which represented his power, the measure of freedom and control he was able to claim: it's literally a tool to amplify and broadcast one's voice. by most reasonable calculations, he shouldve died. instead, his power and freedom was "killed"- but yet he wasn't.

the hotel didn't quite redeem him just yet: but i think it made him consider things he never had before.

...

i found it interesting that there was no big fuss about his return. they had to all assume he was either dead, or deserted them. he had to know that they would assume one or the other: and neither one looks good on him. yet he confidently just shows up again and falls right back into the group. whether he realizes it or not, he knows on some level that they will accept him back.

he might not be able to love himself, and he might not be able to love them- maybe not yet, or maybe even not ever. but some part of him knows that they love him. and accepts it enough to go back without shame.

some might read that as more of a strategic move to keep furthering his own ends. and actually tbh i think *he* only sees it as that.

but there *is* more to it than that. there *is* love there, and he's connected to it in some way, which is probably a first for him. and i think/hope that *thats* what will end up being the key to his freedom.

[skaruresonic]

"I won't forget the time another games fan admitted on my old Twitter account that the current fannish climate was such that they were going to limit their Sonic discussion to private channels."

Funnily enough, something similar happened to me on Twitter. Someone contacted me in private because they wanted to talk about CV with me, but "I didn't want to message you so publicly because there are some people who don't like you that follow me"

And my reaction was... cool? Thanks for telling me? I'm not even super active on Twitter and I can count on one hand the amount of times I complained and attracted discussions. I just felt sad that this person treated me like a clandestine. It reminded me back when I was in high school and my friend back then was like "don't help these people, they talk shit about you" - what am I supposed to think, other than "oh :("?

And the CV fandom is all but dead, even the NFCV fandom is certainly more active but currently resting. The Sonic fandom, especially on Twitter, is an absolute nightmare. People really do pounce you for any reason they deem justified, and all sorts of petty discourse is pushed in front of your face for the sole reason of making you angry.

Anyway, I say already what I said: for a fandom who will call you all sorts of names if you don't have the right wholesome opinions on minor characters, they sure have zero mercy for real life minors whose crime is complaining in their corner of the internet. Silly you, daring to have an opinion!

Funnily enough, something similar happened to me on Twitter. Someone contacted me in private because they wanted to talk about CV with me, but "I didn't want to message you so publicly because there are some people who don't like you that follow me"

It reminded me back when I was in high school and my friend back then was like "don't help these people, they talk shit about you" - what am I supposed to think, other than "oh :("?

Might be missing some context here, but honestly, that sounds a little backhanded. Best case scenario, they're worried about inadvertently shining a spotlight on you, which just raises questions of why they're hanging around folks who'd dogpile people to begin with.

Like bruh, this is video games fandom, not an illegal gambling ring lmao. Saying "I can't reblog from you because you have cooties" would be more emotionally honest.

To some extent, though, I do have to wonder how much of this is a modern-day fandom culture thing and isn't confined to just Sonic, because patterns seem to repeat across fandoms. Half-Life has settled down AFAIK, but that was after virulent tourists literally called the cops on fic writers for shipping a ship and caused the old guard to disperse. The Silent Hill Reddit, likewise, refuses to hear any criticism of the SH2 remake because you're harshing their buzz. And hey, anything Konami offers us must surely be better than nothing. "Technical limitations" is similar misinformation that gets passed around via games of telephone a la Shadow mandates. I don't need to tell you how Sonic fandom treats unpopular opinions. Don't know what to call it. Toxic positivity? Consumerism? Anti mindset? Clout chasing? Social media-fuelled outrage? All of the above? Whatever it is, it's becoming more prevalent in fannish spaces. Maybe it's because I'm more invested in Sonic fandom than the others, but there I've noticed that there's definitely this added layer of superciliousness to Sonic that just makes the usual fandom wank even more obnoxious. Yes, the HLVRAI stans might lie and say your ship is pedophilia, which is incredibly unfortunate, but nobody was giving them the microphone and saying they ought to be taken as an authority on all things Half-Life. In fact, the old guard pushed for AO3 to separate HLVRAI and Half-Life in the tags for years for this very reason. We weren't all suddenly like "hmm yes, maybe Gordon really was a ~secret pedo~ who thinks of grown-ass Alyx as a child when she flirts with him in-game" because we knew that was fucking ridiculous. But for some reason, we're all supposed to think "IDW!Sonic is Games!Sonic" lest we bu run out of town with torches and pitchforks, I guess.

The worst part is it's hard to tell what people want anymore. You can't say things they don't want to hear even in your own space. You can't say it politely, you can't say it rudely, you can't say it to your friends or to people you're arguing with, you just cannot say it at all without risking a ton of fans going "well you said it, therefore you deserve what you get." And, frankly, fuck that lol.

[wordsinhaled]

☔

☔ Is there a fic concept you have that you’d like to just explain and share because you’re not sure you’ll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Ah, yes!!! And I'll tag @sb-essebi here since you also asked this question!

I'll talk about the always angels AU! (Who wants to help me find a better name for it? lmao, but that's what I'm calling it in my head.) I don't know if I'll ever actually write it properly because it feels very Involved and my vision for it would involve it being a bit of an epic length, meanwhile I've never written a thing past like 2k words? But I do really love the idea of it.

So this is an AU where Crowley never fell: he's still an angel in Heaven. Of course, he still asks questions, but maybe he’s at a power level at which his interference can be deniable, or brushed under the rug if needed. Or, if he is higher up, he's considered to be a bit of an odd duck, too enthusiastic, too absorbed in his work, such that his capacity for influence isn't really taken seriously. Besides, he’s so genuine and well-meaning about things that he naturally gets underestimated a lot, which is how he has avoided getting cast out this whole time.

So he’s basically just prancing about being cheerful in Heaven’s offices in the outfit we saw him wear in the show, in all his tan tracksuited, gold nail polished peppiness. (Yes, I love that outfit; no, I will not take arguments. Heaven infiltrator!Crowley is a fashion icon <3) And also, of course, in lovely long flowing robes sometimes because why not, it's Heaven!

He gets to keep up his stars as his main role, and it’s been his favorite thing to do since always, which he tells to anyone in earshot. He’s forever asking if the other angels want to go on little field trips with him to see different star systems or nebulas whenever they need a tuneup, and the other angels are all, “Oh, you know, Crowley and his stars,” like his personal interest in them is weird, or quaint. They humored him at first, and have long since stopped going with him, and the ones of his own rank gossip about how odd it is, a bit, well. Crowley's enthusiasm is undimmed.

Maybe in this AU, Aziraphale has become an archangel by regular promotion - by toeing the line, mostly, but he harbors, secretly (very secretly) his own ideas about how the Supreme Archangel is running things, how Heaven could be made better. A large part of him still believes in the system, though. He figures, if he follows all the norms, goes through the proper channels he’ll make a true change one day. Especially in his new position, which he treats with great sanctity.

But he does have his foibles.

He's been to earth for several stints, and during those stints, however brief each one, he discovered things he likes. His Heavenly office is not blank and white and bare like the others; it has actual—gasp!—material objects in it that he's brought back from his travels on Earth. A plush Persian rug. A heavy oaken desk, complete with Tiffany reading lamp and writing inks and pens. An overstuffed armchair with a cream tartan blanket draped across the back (Heaven does get quite cold, after all). A dancing lady orchid in a hand-turned, hand-painted ceramic planter. A little rack of select Earth wines and aperitifs. An earthenware bowl of fruit. And... books. Books he tries to but occasionally fails to keep contained to one corner, and often rotates out for new ones, and categorically refuses to give up.

(The other archangels try not to go in there much. It gives them the creeps.)

Anyway, long story short, this archangel Aziraphale is... well, Aziraphale, more or less the one we know and love, but maybe with more of a ramrod-straight back, if you will. (And maybe some facial hair. He can have a beard for a bit, maybe, as a treat. But I'm still not sure on that bit.)

The other thing about the archangel Aziraphale is he actually talks to the other angels who are of lower rank than he is. He doesn't treat them the way the rest of the archangels do, at a remove. He wants to know about their goings-on, because he was one of them, once, and he remembers what it was like, and looks on them with a great deal of empathy.

So naturally this puts him into contact with Crowley! Who has absolutely no compunction about inviting Aziraphale (his superior! Crowley, you daredevil!) on a jaunt to visit another little corner of the stars that needs maintenance.

"Oh! A... field trip, you say? To the... the Cosmic Cliffs, you called them? Well! That does sound exciting! I don't suppose I've ever considered it."

"You don't want to," says Crowley, visibly deflating.

"No, no, no! That's not it at all! They sound positively lovely, I'm sure. It's only that I have ever so much work, you see, and so little time in which to do it all."

"The Carina Nebula's worth taking a break for," Crowley says, a little bit of pride edging into his voice. He puts on his best encouraging grin. "C'monnn, Archangel. No one has to know. I certainly won't tell anyone you skived off a day's work to see some stars - oh, they all laugh at me as it is. It'll be our little secret." (If an angel had spoken to, say, Gabriel this way - with such a level of presumption, such a level of intimacy! - they would have been demoted instantly.)

Instead, Aziraphale agrees.

"I say," he breathes, hovering side by side with Crowley and looking at the glittering, twinkling splendor of blue-gold-amber scattered across the vastness of space before them. "I say, this is really quite something you've got here. You've outdone yourself with this one, I imagine."

"Oh, thank you," Crowley says, positively beaming, feathers all aflutter, brown eyes bright with feeling.

"It's beautiful," Aziraphale says.

"It is, isn't it," Crowley agrees. But here's an important little detail: he's not looking at his own creation as he speaks. He's watching Aziraphale watch the stars. It's totally untoward. Totally not befitting their difference in status, or their relative lack of acquaintance. And he totally doesn't care. "Gorgeous," Crowley adds. It just slips out, almost an afterthought, almost under his breath.

And Aziraphale turns to him then, and catches him staring openly.

And there's the start of that.

<3

Also would feature in this AU:

Archangel Aziraphale is the one to introduce Crowley to Earthly things! I think that is so, so fun, and I want to see angel Crowley discover his first bite of dark chocolate truffles or his first sip of Turkish coffee or his first time feeling silk, for example, yes

Enough tension to cut with a knife, we love to see it

Open-secret rendezvous in various corners of space to talk about philosophy!

Crowley dedicating specific stars to Aziraphale (Alpha Centauri!)

The other angels looking on in tacit disapproval but not quite being able to do much about it (...yet)

Archangel Aziraphale and angel Crowley take a vacation business trip to Earth! Includes Aziraphale showing Crowley some of his favorite places; them figuring out what sort of clothes they want to wear on Earth (and pining after each other in them, obviously); Crowley's first time riding in a car and subsequently falling in love with high-speed driving; charming B&Bs with only one bed (!); romantic stargazing from Earth; entirely too much faffing about and not enough Heavenly work getting done at all whatsoever because they're too busy realizing they're in love

A faction of angels try to depose Aziraphale because they think he's gone soft (and, well, he has... soft for a certain starmaking angel) and Aziraphale has to go on the lam on Earth to save himself. Cue romantic scene in which he asks Crowley to come with him and of course Crowley agrees

They go to Earth together and perform a combined miracle to hide themselves from Heaven. Maybe Aziraphale still operates his bookshop, but angel Crowley acquires a plant shop and works part time at a planetarium!

I could go on but this has gotten pretty long!

Thanks for letting me ramble about this AU which I love so much <333

[aniron48]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag, @anyawen! These were so much fun!

Answers under the cut, and tagging @sweetbabyangels, @mr-iskender, @stinastar, @aprettyspy and @thestalwartheart, in case you haven't done this already and it's of interest!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 30! That number seems astonishing to me now, considering I started writing fic in earnest like a year-and-a-half ago. 😁

2. What’s your total A03 word count? 138,358

3. What fandoms do you write for? James Bond, Glass Onion/Knives Out, and I just wrote my first fic for The Old Guard fandom, which has pulled me in by the lapels and refused to let me go. And the very first fic I ever wrote was for Stardew Valley.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? 1. A Good Man (Benoit Blanc/Phillip) 2. rain (00q) 3. open line (00q) 4. The More Loving One (00q) 5. Must Love Cats (00q)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Ok yes I definitely do and I love to *and also* I'm so sorry, I'm 288 days (yes I just checked) behind in responding to comments, because this year has been...something else. So, taking the opportunity to say that a) all of your comments are incredible bright spots for me, and b) I am working my way steadily through and enjoying your comments all over again as I re-read and respond to them.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? WELP (eyes my pile o' fics warily). If we go based off the fics with "Major Character Death" as a warning, for a certain value of angst, it's a tie between offering and and the wind at their backs. But both of these fics deal with grief, and the complicated emotions that result from the persistence of love even after the object of that love is gone, and there's some hope in that, too, I think.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? lmao most of the rest of them other than the two in number 6? 😂 this is a hard one to answer, so I'll list my RomCom-iest fics for now (Must Love Cats for 00q and in a space that they belong for The Old Guard). Special shout-out to 'tis the damn season, though, because the happiness at the end of this fic feels like some of the hardest fought, to me, and some of the tenderest I've written, I think.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No--I've gotten a few less than diplomatic comments, and a couple people making unflattering notes in bookmarks that I don't think they meant for me to see, but nothing terrible.

9. Do you write smut? ::offers you rain and for the age of the earth, and after as if I am a sommelier presenting you with some very fine wine:: "this one has notes of--" you know what I'm just going to stop there.

10. Do you write crossovers? I haven't yet!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No, thank goodness (knocks on wood).

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet! #goals

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Use. Your. Words., which was a collaborative poem for 007 fest 2023. 😁

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? I spent about five minutes hemming and hawing about this but you know what, it's impossible to pick. 😂

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Like Anyawen, I have aspirations of finishing all the ones hanging out in my Scrivener app...someday. Probably the one I have the most doubts about is a 5 + 1 fic where Bond tries out different activities post retirement. I still love the idea and some of the vision I had for this one, but it lives almost entirely in my head, still.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think maybe I have a good ear for language, both in terms of the rhythm of sentences and paragraphs, and for conveying a character's voice or accent. But it's hard to assess your own strengths, sometimes, so that's just my best guess!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I'm actively working on trying to be better at descriptions, especially in giving details about setting or background. I realized I give these things short shrift, sometimes, and want to change that!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I'll do it with languages I'm fluent in (and have done it with Spanish, since I'm a native speaker).

19. First fandom you wrote for? Stardew Valley, in What Dreams May Come.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Omg, another one that is almost impossible to answer! I think I have to go with all the flags we've hung. This is one of my least popular fics--it's a rarepair, the love depicted in it is complicated (though no less real), and it deals with light topics like, you know, structural racism in the United States. As one does. But it's a fic that's incredible close to my heart, for many reasons, and I remain so proud of this one.

Phew! If you have read all of this you deserve a cupcake. 💜

xoxo, Ani