#and just kept rotating in my head like a microwave

[multifandom-onigiri]

Also I’m just going to screenshot from my twitter priv because it says everything but hehehehhehehehehe! *cries*

[ryuki-blogs]

Every Elan double is an enhanced person..... but not every enhanced person is an Elan double.....

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinkbing about. him

[burger-goblin]

.

[velvetures]

Got Me Snoring

A/N: One of my favorite things inspired by all the Ghost/König cosplayer TikToks using that one, song audio. Summary: Ghost admits getting head is boring. Reader isn't happy with that idea and goes about changing his mind. T/W: NS/FW 18+ Only, blowjobs, deepthroating, size kink if you squint, spit?, cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and it's been a long ass time since I've written full-on smut.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if she calls again, I’m not about to answer.” Soap’s voice carried from the living space of the hotel room to the kitchenette where you stood microwaving some rice from a convenience store down the street.

After-mission talk always leads to the most strange conversations. Maybe the adrenaline or the high of getting almost killed got everyone in a talking mood. However as the Captain slid behind you to go grab more ice outside in the hallway, you couldn’t help but shoot him a questioning look. They’d been talking about their previous accomplishments and failures in the bedroom for nearly twenty minutes, and thankfully they’d not roped you into the ridiculous conversation but with the Captain leaving out of the room, it drew their eyesight right to you standing patiently for your instant rice to finish cooking.

“What about you, huh?” Gaz was the one to poke a little. “Have any horror stories from the bedroom?” His eyebrows raised in mischievous curiosity as all three men sat staring at you with great intent.

“I’ve faked it plenty of times.” You reply offhandedly, waving a hand at them and going back to staring at the small plastic cup rotating around in the microwave.

You overheard the men pass through the moment of silence with low laughs, most noticeably, Ghost. Who’d apparently found something very funny and decided to grace everyone with the sound of deep and resounding chuckles. With a gloved hand, you take out your food and rejoin them in the room, finding a spot on the corner of one of the beds and crossing your legs to hold the bowl while you watch and listen to more of their recounted stories.

Soap complained more about the one night he’d met up with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and drank himself into oblivion to try and ease his nerves. The only problem was, that when he finally had enough liquid courage to make a move, he couldn’t get it up. Even watching him recount the tale now, you could see his embarrassment. You couldn’t imagine just how beautiful that woman had to be for Soap to give himself whiskey-dick so bad that to this day he regretted the memory and undoubtedly wished he could take it back. Gaz got pressured into retelling the story of the woman he met in Russia just for you since you’d never heard it; Detailing just how she’d been absolutely obsessed with him right from the get-go.

She couldn’t stop fawning over his accent and just how downright good-looking he was. Gaz on the other hand felt very embarrassed and never really tried to take things further on that trip. Fortunately for him, on a trip back a few months later for pleasure, he ran into the woman again and this time around she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Soap and Ghost laughed, poking fun at how utterly exhausted Garrick was when he met up with them in London. His shit-eating grin was more than enough for them to surmise that his little Russian vixen had taken him for a hell of a ride.

Then there was Ghost.

He didn’t have much to say in the way of his own successes, but did share one or two small comparisons with the other two as they kept pulling out detail after detail about the many people they’d met over the years and how they either felt they’d left their mark… or totally fucking missed it. All of it came to a very interesting topic that you suddenly became very interested in when Ghost uttered one single statement that left your mouth hanging open and staring at him almost in disbelief.

“I don’t like someone blowin’ my cock,” his voice sounded flat. Totally unbothered and nearly sleeping at the idea. “Never cared much for it when half doesn’t fit.”

You couldn’t help but insert yourself into the conversation after a long hour or so of sitting like a viewer at a movie. “Wait a second… You mean to tell me you don’t like getting head because you're too big?” The gasp in your tone was obvious, and even Soap and Gaz looked at him a little strangely as if they didn’t truly believe the idea either. It gave you a bit more reassurance in your belief that almost all men enjoyed it. Sure, there was the odd chance that Ghost just didn’t like it at all, but you really wanted to hear his explanation if he’d give you one.

The Lieutenant turned to look at you and nodded stiffly. “Yeah, ‘bout always puts me to sleep.”

It was at this point you felt the slightest urge to tell him he’d never had someone give him a legitimately good blowjob before. But before you could even say something to the contrary, a thought crossed your mind. Ghost didn’t seem like the kind of man who attracted ill-experienced women. Especially when he had already proven throughout the evening that his previous encounters were much more interesting and expansive than even that of yourself. Something a bit… jealous rose inside of you at the thought.

Imagining your Lieutenant laying on his back and hardly making any sort of sound while someone pulls out every single trick in their arsenal to make a blowjob somewhat entertaining or arousing. You didn’t necessarily profess yourself to have a crush on Ghost, due to just how grey the line between operators and anything felt when you spent so much time together under high-stress environments. There was bound to be some level of emotional attachment that devolved past… professional. And for whatever it was, knowing that Ghost had such a bad opinion on the receiving end of pleasure became a challenge you wanted to overcome.

About that time, Price returned with half-melted ice and a half-smoked cigar hanging between his lips.

“Finished talking about chasin’ tail yet?” He grumbled, walking past the group of you still sitting around each other like a bunch of kids getting caught staying up late by Dad at a sleepover. “Wanna go to fuckin’ sleep.”

He dropped the ice bucket down on the dresser with a little thud before settling himself down on the pull-out couch with his hat covering his eyes and both arms resting behind his head with that cigar still puffing smoke rings into the air. Ghost was the first to stand up, making his way out of the hotel room without as much as a comment about when he’d be back or where he was going. Your eyes trailed over his shoulders tapering into a slim waist before giving way again to thick and muscular thighs enhanced by all of gear still strapped to his body. His kit did leave a lot to the imagination. And god did your mind start to wander as both Soap and Gaz began winding down, settling themselves down to sleep for the night or at least lay somewhere quietly so the Captain didn’t lose any more of his patience and kick someone out or force them to pay for their own room. Not nearly tired enough with all of the questions and thoughts about Ghost now floating through your mind, you didn’t care the least bit about laying down or pretending not to care about the fact of the matter and headed out of the hotel room after the Lieutenant as Soap turned out the final lamp in the corner of the room.

The air was a bit cold outside without your jacket, breath materializing in front of you in light wisps of fog with every exhale as you looked down both ends of the hallway hoping to see some sign of where Ghost might’ve gone to. Down on the far left side, a larger cloud of smoke blew past the breezeway entrance and you knew right away that Ghost would be at the end of it. And when your eyes peeked around the corner, you weren’t the least bit surprised to see him with a shoulder resting up against the wall; his back to you with enough of his mask pulled up so that he could smoke a cigarette. The sweet vanilla and cherry smell hit you like a wall, reminding you that Ghost preferred rolling his own cigarettes and used pipe tobacco instead of buying packs of anything else.

Leaves no trace behind… He’d explained without prompting one night after noticing that you’d been watching him.

“Followin’ me now?” His voice heavy with smoke and unhindered by his mask landed directly on you, not even needing to turn around to know you were the one tailing after him.

“Couldn’t let you freeze to death alone.” You reply with a little smile, taking it as your chance to go ahead and walk -slowly- over to him giving him the privacy to smoke without needing to fuss with keeping his face covered.

By standing just at his back leaning against the wall, he knew right where you were, and it put the weight of conversation on him for the moment. He gave you a gruff sort of sound and took another drag off his cigarette before turning just far enough to offer it to you. You take it from his gloved fingers carefully, licking your lips a little in slight nervousness. This wasn’t the first time he’d offered you a hit, but it was the first time you’d ever actually taken him up on it. Seeing the damp rolling paper on the end made you shiver a little; Hopefully, the cold weather would be a good enough excuse to keep him from recognizing your sudden anxiety around him. Wrapping your lips around it and inhaling, you’re a little more than guilty for noticing the taste of Ghost instead of the vanilla and cherry. With a quick glance to your side, you saw his mask was pulled back down over his mouth and his dark eyes were focused right on you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth and back in through your nose. Attempting to hand it back, he just shakes his head.

“You didn’t come out here to be cold,” He finally broke the silence. “What’d you really want from me?”

No matter how long you spent around Ghost, you never got used to just how miserably direct Ghost could be. Like nothing was truly surprising to him or worth being the least bit delicate over. Even if it concerned someone -like yourself- at least attempting to be a little more discretionary. Yet you sighed and took another drag before tossing the rest of it down on the concrete, putting out the ember with the toe of your boot.

“Were you lying earlier?” Your question falls a little short of confident, giving Ghost the impression right away that you were nervous. For a split second, you thought you saw the phantom of a smile under the cover of his mask before it was quickly hidden back under late-night shadow and white paint. Ghost put his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and gave a sigh, making more fog swirl around and through the woven material around his mouth. Another thought of what his mouth looked like flashed through your failing mind.

“Why would it matter?”

You licked at your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to word this without sounding desperate or downright shameless in front of your commanding officer… you shouldn't be thinking about doing this in the first place. So many more bad outcomes could come of this than the one good one. Even then, it was risky. Leaving you a bit dazed and staring at Ghost.

“Asked you a question. I’m expectin’ an answer.” He pressed forward, a slight swagger in his hips as he got closer to you, resting a hand on the wall and tilting his head a little to the side. Damn near mocking you for being so much smaller and easily intimidated. You look down at your boots for a moment, deciding to just put your money where your mouth is and take the hit no matter the outcome.

“If you weren’t lying…” You look up, internally screaming at how heavy his eyes look down on you. “I’d like to try and change your mind.”

A deep chuckle comes from the Lieutenant in response followed by his heavy hand resting on your shoulder, almost totally engulfing it.

“You’re jokin’,” His voice lowered with humor that made you almost shrivel up and die inside. “Why would I let you do that?” You give a frustrated sigh and take a step back away from Ghost. Mentally and physically distancing yourself from the slight Ghost had given you by accident or otherwise.

“Never mind.” You give a short nod and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel room and find somewhere to curl up on the floor or in a bed with someone and try to sleep off your damaged ego.

Yet five steps away from Ghost, you’re stopped short with his arm snaked around your waist tightly and his mouth resting against your ear with a heavy and hot breath fanning against your neck. His palm spreads over your stomach and squeezes almost aggressively at the soft flesh under your shirt. Tall and wide, Ghost yanks your back flush to his chest as a silent threat.

“Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me,” His low growl makes you shiver. “I’m not finished with ya.”

In an instant, you’re spun around and hauled aggressively with your back against the nearest wall with Ghost’s chest holding you from fighting back. His legs limit your ability to try and escape out from under his arms, and while one hand is flat against your chest, the other restricts both your wrists above your head. Breath evacuates your lungs with the sudden shock of your back against the wall, but your eyes are locked on Ghost’s as he glares at you harshly through the wavering mist of his breath in the cold air.

“Now I’ve got you pacified…” His smirk was clear in tone, outright mocking you by pressing those massive thighs tighter against yours. “Let’s continue shall we?” The gloved hand pressed against your heaving chest slides up to grasp firmly at your chin and jerk it up to look him in the eyes.

“Why don’t you be a good little thing and tell me why you think you could change my mind, and maybe… I won’t punish you for talkin’ shit to your superior officer.” He spat loudly, his face less than an inch from yours, eyes flaming with aggression.

“Sorry Lieutenant…” You mutter stiffly through the struggle of his hand against your jaw. “Thought I could do better.” You add a lot weaker, averting your eyes as far from Ghost as you can.

“What was that?” He made dark fun of you, terribly obvious, and downright happy with himself. “Say it again.”

You squirm in his grasp, only to get your wrists slid up higher on the wall and a thigh shoved between your own to lift your feet almost totally off the ground. Toes tapping the ground, Ghost holds you totally of his own power without the slightest effort needed to keep you held right where he wanted you to be.

“Thought I could do better.” You repeat yourself louder, and more clearly, feeling utterly stupid for enduring such pathetic treatment. Only you knew it was your fault for letting such a pipe dream of an idea come to reality by prodding Ghost about his sex life so confidently. The masked man hummed lowly, tilting his head as he inspected your face lighted only by a small sliver of moonlight creeping around the corner of the hallway.

“Better, huh?” Ghost chuckles darkly, this thumb tracing over the bottom curve of your lip carefully. “That’s a lot of confidence for someone so small.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Size has nothing to do with it.”

Ghost barks laughter, grumbling something under his breath before dropping his hand away from your jaw and releasing one of your hands to press against his groin. You can’t miss his meaning from the massive erection pressing back against your hand and twitching impatiently when your Lieutenant squeezes your hand around it tighter. A growl escapes his throat and he looks up at you with almost evil eyes.

“Still think size doesn’t matter, little one?” He questions, one eyebrow raising above the hemline of his mask.

Your mouth falls open in shock. Not only because of the sheer girth of Ghost’s cock pulsing in your hand but realizing that he was actually taking your proposal seriously no matter how aggressive his mockery of you was. It shouldn’t have been so damn surprising when taking into account just how large of a man Ghost is. Surely everything would be proportionate, and his erection was proof of it.

Your face is enough to make Ghost chuckle. “That’s what I thought…”

It’s enough of a dismissal that thaws your speechlessness and throws you right back into the present with enough of the guts to speak up for your own desires.

“I can do it,” You blurt breathlessly, fingers tracing along the curve of Ghost’s dick and earning a lusty growl from him. “I can make it good. I’ll make it fit.” You nod your head feverishly in an attempt to keep your chance open. Ghost’s eyes widen at your desperation and his cock twitches hard in your palm with the sound of your shallow breaths and pleading eyes.

“You want it, huh?” He questions, mask moving like he’s grinning under it.

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

The moment his hands release you, you feel yourself sliding down the wall until your knees make a bruising thud against the concrete floor in front of Ghost. Your hands holding on his thighs without the slightest care that you were standing in the middle of a hotel breezeway where anyone could see you. A weight settled in your lower stomach with the idea of anyone coming out of their room and witnessing such a sight.

“My belt.” Ghost instructs a bit pinched, looking down at you with his chin almost touching his chest.

You’re frantic yet shaking as your hands slide up his thighs and begin pulling his belt loose, hearing that metallic clink as you pull the two sides apart with a watering mouth. No instruction is necessary for you to know where to go next, and as you unbutton his cargo pants, your free hand palms his cock as you pull down just enough of his waistband to expose him but not make him cold. Ghost’s hands help just a little, settling extra material where he prefers it, almost patiently holding up his own hoodie and t-shirt out of your way as you slid your hands under his boxers.

“Fuck…” Ghost mutters quietly, tensing when your fingers wrap around his base and free him from his underwear.

Your thumb smears over his swollen head soft enough to not make him jerk away with sensitivity, and you lick your lips at just how wet his cock already is from sheer anticipation. Hell, you were turned on too, practically dripping in your underwear at the sight of Ghost with nothing but a perfect dick exposed and ready for your mouth. The first lick is a teasing one. Flattening it over his head just because you couldn’t wait to taste him, gathering up his arousal, and making it a point to swallow with your eyes locked right on Ghost’s. You're certain it’s enough to affect him just by the way he grunts and rests both of his hands against the wall behind you to steady himself.

When your lips wrap around his tip and slide down towards his base slowly, you hollow your lips and suck hard. Almost mimicking drinking through a straw with both hands wrapped around his thick base to restrict blood flow, adding to his sensitivity. You feel his feet flex in his boots next to your thighs and another low grunt. It spurs you forward, sinking down further and massaging your tongue on the underside before raising back up to lick at his frenulum and repeating the process with quiet whines each time he’s unable to hold back some sound.

“Shit-” He hisses after no more than a couple of minutes, jerking his hips back away from you and moving your hands out of the way so he could tighten his own fist around his cock with a heaving chest.

He stays like that for a few moments, undoubtedly trying to stave off the pleasure you’d been giving before his eyes meet yours again and they’re downright hungry and raging with fury that you’d brought him so close without any extra fancy moves or those fake moans that porn always showed. With one quick movement, he stepped closer and tilted your head back until it gently rested against the wall behind you, his cock smearing your own spit and his arousal over your open and awaiting mouth.

“You look pretty like this…” He muttered, rubbing his length over your face and tapping it teasingly against your mouth. “You hungry for more?” You’re sticking out your tongue and nodding right away, earning you a tense chuckle and the feeling of Ghost’s dick sliding into your mouth while his hand cushions the back of your head from the wall.

“Let me feed it to ya,” He grunts. “Shove my fat cock in your mouth and fuck your throat..” He adds with a feral sort of sound mixing with an ever-thickening accent.

You moan around his length, feeling your jaw muscles begin to start aching when your nose just barely grazes his pubic bone and his tip touches the back of your throat. He’s thick enough to qualify as the largest you’ve ever experienced, but you’re not the slightest bit concerned about whether he’ll be able to fit. You know he’ll make it fit if nothing else.

And him utterly pounding your throat sounded so hot that you tried pushing further down on his shaft yourself. Eager to feel Ghost as deep in you as possible. Ghost obliges you, and rocks his hips forward slowly, easing his thick head past that ring of pressure at the back of your throat and cursing under his breath when a wet, gurgling sound vibrates around his shaft as you begin swallowing around him.

“Bloody, fuucckk yes…” His groans punch through the quiet air, far louder than he should be risking in such a public space. But he’s only getting started with this experience as your nose presses against his pubic bone, and his hand flattens against the wall.

“So tight… doggin’ me right where anyone can see.”

It’s the thought that had you so eager, and right away you felt just how much it turned Ghost on too. Because the second he said it, he pulled back just a fraction and pushed himself back down your throat, beginning tight and quick thrusts that made your eyes roll back. He kept a furious pace, growling and holding tight to the back of your head until you tapped at the back of his thigh a few times, and he pulled out with a loud grunt, giving you a moment to breathe. You panted, seeing a thick web of spit connecting your mouth and his tip before watching it break and drip down your shirt.

You’re about to tell Ghost… something. But you instantly lose thought of it when he’s bent down with his mask rucked up just far enough to smash his mouth to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth and practically eating you from the inside out. You can still taste the salty edge of his skin, and it’s almost heady to have his mouth mingling with yours and sharing his arousal between soft moans and heavy breaths. The kiss is long and feverish, but not near long enough before he’s standing back up and stroking his fist up and down his cock right in front of you like an unreal kind of dream somehow coming to life.

“Please.” You mutter a bit hoarse from the rough treatment of your throat, totally unsure of what you really want most. Between his mouth, words, and dick there’s so much more than just one you desired, but at least one of them needed to be delivered to you to attempt satisfaction.

“Open up, little one…” Ghost whispers face re-masked already, and it makes you whine pathetically, having naively believed he’d allow you just one glimpse at the mouth you’d just tasted. “Need to have more of you.” You’re totally happy to resign by leaning your head back against the wall with your tongue wetting your lips in the cold air.

Ghost starts painfully slow, holding your head on both sides of your jaw and teasing his head against your tongue and the textured roof of your mouth; indiscernible words falling from his mouth and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. You would’ve thought it was nothing more than your Lieutenant just taking his pleasure as offered. But the way his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and his fingers would occasionally rub over the stretched muscles in your jaw gave you the feeling that he was well aware of what you were surrendering to him. As well as how thankful he was to have you on your knees, and looking so fucking angelic swallowing and spitting on his dick like a dirty little whore.

“Let me - Wanna…” His rising breaths and steady strokes begin to falter the longer he thrusts inside your mouth, meticulously avoiding forcing himself deeper in disappointment; resulting in your whining and muffled complaints and pleasure. Had his hands not been purposefully holding you back to prolong the session, Ghost probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.

“P-patience…” His stammer made your chest clench in satisfaction. “Don’t - don’t wanna finish in your mouth…”. That breathy comment nearly struck you stiff as concrete.

You couldn’t believe that after this entire ordeal, Ghost was actually trying to end a blowjob without you finishing it the way you honestly believed it should always end. With you swallowing every last fucking drop that the Lieutenant gave you; wearing a goddamn smile bigger than anyone has ever seen. If he hadn’t been lying and head never impressed him, there wasn’t a chance in Hell you were going to let him finish anywhere that wasn’t down your throat. In a split second, you were shaking your head no and pulling back off his cock with a slight gasp.

“No, finish.” It’s the most demanding and certain you’ve sounded all night. “Finish in my mouth, Ghost.”

His eyes say it all.

They’re wide with his pupils blown at impressive dimensions and his thick eyelashes flutter as his shocked expression forces him to blink over and over again to make sense of you. Mouth and chin covered in spit, on your knees, and literally begging him to come in your mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking filthy…” He mutters aloud, watching intently as you slide back down over him one more time and begin doing what you wanted to from the very beginning.

Bring Ghost to his knees.

It’s a moment before you have him cursing and holding onto the wall with both hands again as you push deeper and deeper until you're teasing the tip of your nose against him yet again. Unwilling to let him pull you off this time or prolong this. Deserving this release was the bare minimum. Not only did you want to provide him ultimate pleasure where no one else had, but you enjoyed every single bit of it. You needed this as much -if not more- than Ghost.

Heavy and twitching in your mouth, Ghost was teetering on the edge of his orgasm with stuttering hips and one hand sliding down to rest on your head. Not pushing this time, just laying at the crown like your movements were too much to feel with only one part of his body. Short pants were cut short by unintelligible words and strained attempts to say what you already knew.

As if giving your final approval of the idea Ghost had found unacceptable, you push him as deep as you could one final time; Hearing his loud shout echo down the breezeway as both of his hands grabbed harshly onto the sides of your head. Pumping stream after stream of his hot release down your throat you moaned deeply, feeling him gently rock his hips against your face as he rode down his high on shaky legs. You gagged a little as he pulled out, feeling your throat begin to burn in an unfamiliar way that had never followed you sharing a moment like this with another man. Only one look at Ghost’s cock right in front of your face was more than enough to reassure you he’d just been the one who gave you enough of a delicious stretch to feel for days to come.

Your eyes met his and a small little shy smile crossed your sore lips, contrasting the absolutely deplorable -and punishable- act you’d ever committed with a superior officer. Wordlessly Ghost tucked himself back into his underwear and neglected to button his pants back up before dropping to a knee right in front of you and pulling up his mask again to brush his lips against yours.

“Want to taste,” He whispered ever-so-softly, hands holding your head gently.

“Need to taste me inside your mouth.” He added, licking your lips before closing the distance between you for a second time. This kiss was still intense. Ghost controlling the pace and just how much dominance you had, which nearly came to zero when he licked into your mouth, groaning shamelessly. He could taste his release coating your mouth as he utterly overwhelmed you with kisses, licks, bites, and more moans that fell like honey on your ears.

You were the first to pull back for a gasp of air you’d gone full minutes without, feeling your own mouth and body beginning to feel a little weak with exhaustion not typical of a well-conditioned soldier like yourself. Your Lieutenant took note right away and rested his head against yours reassuringly, his nose touching yours.

“You’re too cold to be out here like this.” He whispered, pulling your cheek affectionately and wrapping the other arm around you. “Not gonna let you freeze after that.” He chuckled a bit sluggishly, kissing you again long and chaste.

He pulled his mask back down and gave very little effort to pick you up off your knees and into his arms without question or hesitation. Leaving you feeling like a treasured prize he’d won and refused to let out of his sight for more than a moment. Safe and protected, you couldn’t care one bit about the cold nipping through your thin clothes and resting your head against Ghost’s shoulder as he carried you back to the hotel room the 141 had already retired for the night in.

Expertly avoiding Soap and Gaz laying on couch cushions on the floor and covered with extra bedsheets, sliding around Price’s bed without bumping it, all while carrying you Ghost sat you down on the edge of the bed he’d been keen to claim as his own right when you’d arrived. You were nearly asleep just sitting there when he unlaced your boots enough to tug them off, pulled your shirt off over your head, and replaced it with one of his hoodies. Finally, he takes off your pants and nods for you to move up to the top of the bed, acting just as he would normally. But as he climbed into the bed next to you and tugged you back against him tightly, you realized you’d gotten a lot more than you bargained for.

Sure you might’ve changed Ghost’s mind about getting head… but you weren’t finished yet. Because Ghost was curling his arm around your waist and burying his masked face in between your shoulder blades like cuddling with you at night was the usual way of things. His fingers innocently traced the waistband of your underwear, and he radiated body heat that melted away the fringe sensations of cold on your body easily.

“I’ve made a decision,” He whispers very quietly so as not to wake the others. And you wiggle back a little closer to him, nodding your head as a silent acknowledgment for him to go on. Expecting him to say that you did -in fact- change his mind about getting blown.

“You’re mine now.”

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated

[oilith]

Bang swap

I had an idea, and it just kept rotating in my head like a microwave, so this is what i cooked lol

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Obi-wan Kenobi

Send Me a Character Ask Game

First impression: Oh, look! A cool old wizard guy who cracks jokes and does really neat shit with a glowing sword! :D

Impression now: This is the galaxy's most traumatized sad man to ever sad and holy fucking shit he did not deserve to have ANY of this to happen to him, omfg.

Also, he's hilarious as fuck and I wish more people realized what a snarky bitch he actually is XD

Favorite moment: Fuck, this is difficult. There's too many moments.

I'm sure I'll think of more later, but a moment that's coming to my mind right now is when he kept trolling Maul while he was ACTIVELY TRYING TO KILL HIM XD

And basically every moment he's teasing Anakin. Obi-wan refuses to pass up any opportunity to be funny as shit pffttt

Idea for a story: The amount of Obi-wan centric WIPS I have, dear fucking god. Will they ever see the light of day? Who fucking knows. But yeah a good portion of my daily brain activity goes to rotating this guy in my mind like a microwave.

Favorite relationship: The Disaster Trio will forever hold a place in my heart. Man, they make me mentally ill.

Oh, and of course Codywan. I will always be a sucker for a leader and their right hand dynamic. These two drive me fucking bonkers, you don't understand. Anyway, I'm gonna go fucking cry now.

Favorite headcanon: Too fucking many to count. I'll just say I think it's hilarious the fandom decided Stewjon (Obi-wan's home planet) is Space Scotland, though. I have a WIP somewhere with that premise, I think.

I do like the headcanon that he's an avid tea drinker. Idk why, it just makes sense to me. That and that he's fluent in Mando'a/Mandalorian culture for obvious reasons :3c

I'm also a sucker for headcanons/AUs where Obi-Wan takes on Cal Kestis as a padawan. I just need the only two red heads in the entirety of SW to stick together XD

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, conflicted

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Summary: your patience runs thin with clint and your latest mission comes with complications.

Warnings: angst, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2,010

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prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 -31 - 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Sixty-Three Days

“Hungry?” you asked without looking up from the fridge. You pulled a plastic bag of leftover takeout off the shelf, fishing out a plastic container of curry. When Clint didn’t reply, or even acknowledge you at all, you dropped it onto the kitchen counter with more force than was strictly necessary. The lid wasn’t completely in place, and sauce splattered the countertop. You cursed to yourself, irritated further. You spoke under your breath, reaching for a towel. “Or I could just go fuck myself, I guess.”

It was catty, you supposed, but Clint had been oscillating between his usual self and frustratingly cold and dismissive over the last two months, and it was driving you insane. One day he’d be fine – for Clint, anyway – and the next, you’d be on the business end of the silent treatment. The normal days had gotten fewer and far between since the anniversary, and what triggered the silence, you still had no idea, but it was very quickly beginning to grind on the very last of your nerves.

Tossing the container into the microwave, you hit a couple of buttons and leaned against the countertop as the turntable began to rotate. You let yourself stew as it warmed, arm folding across your chest as you watched the archer head for the shower. He continued to avoid eye contact as though you weren’t there at all, even as the microwave beeped to announce its completion.

You sighed irritably and leaned your elbows on the counter as you picked petulantly at the curry. When Clint finally reemerged, he was dressed in most of his mission gear, and you tossed your fork in the sink. He didn’t even glance up as it clattered against the metal.

“You ready?” he asked gruffly from the couch, tugging on one of his boots.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you talking to me?” It slipped out before you could stop it, annoyance dripping from every word.

Clint looked up; an eyebrow raised. “What’s the matter with you?”

You probably should have just shut up, should have just gotten changed and followed him out the door. But instead, you wiped your hands on a tea towel and tossed it on the counter in front of you. The words kept spewing out bitterly. “I just didn’t realize today was one of the days you actually speak to me like I’m a human being.”

“…What are you talking about?”

Shut up, Y/N.

“What am I—” you scoffed, shaking your head as you rounded the counter towards him. “Clint, this is the first time you’ve spoken to me in three days, and its to ask if I’m ready to go on a mission we haven’t even talked about.”

“We—”

“No, we haven’t!” you snapped, brandishing a finger at him as you closed the distance between you. “Honestly, most days you treat me like I’m furniture around here and I am fucking sick of it! You disappear for months; you come back and tell me you ‘need me’ and, fine, I roll with that, but then you act like I’m not even here—”

Clint’s tone turned a shade of defensive, his jaw tightening and releasing. “I’m not—”

You stabbed him in the chest with your finger. “You act like I’m not even here, and you know what, that would be fine too, except when you finally do talk to me, I actually believe for a moment that things could be going back to normal between the two of us.”

“Everything is—”

“No, it’s not!” you shouted, your face inches from his. “Clint, I get emotional whiplash every time you decide to talk to me!”

“Would you just let me—”

“And I sit here and I pretend everything is fine, and meanwhile you’re pretending I don’t exist and you’ve got me yelling like some kind of sitcom reject and if you could just man up and stop being such a—”

Your words caught in your throat as Clint’s hand suddenly closed around it. He pushed you back against the wall, his thumb pressed hard against the corner of your jaw. In your anger you hadn’t realized just how close you’d been to him, and now even that limited space was gone, Clint’s body so close that you could feel his chest brush against yours with each of his breaths.

His fingers were tight, unforgiving, against your throat. And still you felt a thrill shoot through you, and your lips parted without breath. Clint’s eyes were dark. Anger and something else that sent a shiver straight to the small of your back burned in his gaze.

Your fists clenched and unclenched by your sides; a shield could force him away from you, release you, and maybe you should have been scared of this side of Clint, but his eyes fell for a moment to your parted lips and you couldn’t move.

Do it.

Clint released you, stepping away as though he’d suddenly woken up. He cleared his throat and you inhaled, still leaning back against the wall. Your breath shook as you caught it, your palms pressed against the wall by your thighs. Clint ran a hand through his hair, turning his back to you, and you exhaled as that tightness that had bloomed in the pit of your belly began to ease.

“Get changed,” he said finally, and you swore his voice was unsteady. “We’ve… we’ve got a window closing. We’ll talk about this later.”

***

The ‘window’ had turned out to be a weapons deal in the middle of Holland Park – even three years after the Snap and with society beginning to rebuild its law enforcement within the populated areas, criminals seemed to have no problem with committing grand scale felonies in what were still considered major landmarks. Still, the park was very much deserted at this hour, and you found yourself using the silence around you to continue stewing over your… conversation with Clint as you made your way towards the Kyoto Gardens fountain.

You should have just ignored your feelings and followed after him obediently as usual. The helpful little sidekick just doing what she’s told. But no, you had to go postal on him, and now…

You sighed as you clambered up to the top of the fountain’s rock formation, carefully avoiding the water running between the stones. The foliage would mostly block you from view, and the darkness would do the rest. Clint would be nearby, waiting for his opportunity to strike.

Clint…

God, he was going to withdraw even more, wasn’t he? He was going to pretend everything was fine for a few days and then get even more monosyllabic. He might even disappear again.

You’d made a big show of telling him you didn’t care about him sleeping with you and taking off – you didn’t – and then you’d gone and acted like a frickin’ insane girlfriend.

Settling in a crouch on the outcrop, you continued to mull petulantly as you waited for the targets to show. It was almost an hour before anyone turned up, and an ache was starting to settle into both your head and your thighs. A furrow appeared between your brows as the man approaching the fountain arrived empty handed. You recognized his face – he was supposed to be doing the dealing here.

You reached up activate the comms device in your ear. “Hey, something’s off here, I—”

Your head jerked automatically as you heard a pebble skitter down the stones behind you. Hand flying automatically to your belt and you barely managed to roll out of the way as a baseball bat suddenly swung down toward you. Without your skull to stop it, it cracked against the stone you’d just been kneeling on.

Landing on your back on the uneven stones left you in just as bad a position and with a sharp pain in your shoulder, but going any further would have had you rolling right off the edge of the outcrop. The limited light now worked against you, and you stopped fumbling for your gun as the bat came arching down out of the darkness again.

You rocked back onto your shoulders and kicked upward with both feet. The grunt of your assailant told you you’d caught him in the stomach, and you scrambled back into a crouch long enough to pull the blade from the holster on your boot. The sound of voices below and the agonized cry of someone meeting Clint’s blade suggested the man on the ground’s back up had arrived at the same time as your attackers.

Straightening, you held the blade tightly in your fist. The metal shone as it briefly caught the light of the nearest lamppost.

“I told you the boss was on to something.” a gruff, eastern European voice said in the dark, and you raised the blade warningly. “There’s more than one Ronin.”

Oh, shit.

“Yeah, yeah.” came the cockney reply, the man still winded from his meeting with your boots. “Ronin’s got himself a girlfriend. Just get on with it.”

Oh, SHIT.

You swung wide with the knife as the first man approached, ducking under a swing from another baseball bat. The European caught you in the shoulder and you grunted, the blow hard enough that you dropped the knife. You heard it clatter against the rocks below. The cockney guy shoved past him and swung, and you dodged to the left, the move sloppy on uneven ground.

The urge to force them away with a shield was growing along with your nerves as they forced you back closer to the edge of the outcropping, and you swallowed it back. They were already far too informed, and you couldn’t risk them actually unpuzzling your identities. The cockney man rushed you, sensing your hesitation, and you dropped just as quickly. You used his momentum to throw him over your shoulder and send him crashing into the water below.

“Hülye kurva!” the European spat, and you stood quickly, slugging him in the jaw. He grunted, spat, and swung the bat again. You cursed as you moved too slow and the bat glanced off your side. Your fingers twitched in an automatic gesture; forcing the bat out of his hands would be so easy, but—

You jumped, grabbing hold of a tree branch above you. You swung forward, both feet meeting his chest. He fell and you landed in front of him, kicking the bat out of his hand. Removing your gun from its holster, you leveled it with his stomach, finger curling around the trigger.

And then your body suddenly seized as an excruciating pain exploded between your shoulders and set your whole body on fire. Fifty thousand volts coursed through you from the taser bolt in your back and you felt your limbs tense uncontrollably. Your eyes rolled back and you collapsed backward, off of the ledge. A sick, rushing sensation overcame you before you felt your back hit the water and the back of your head cracked against stone.

Then everything went black.

***

“Come on, Y/N. Come on, baby, breathe…”

An almost painful pressure on your chest forced you back into consciousness, the same feeling repeating four more times before you finally coughed the water from your lungs. You rolled onto your side and threw the rest of it up, your chest heaving and your hair dripping in your eyes as you tried to force them open again.

You’d been dragged from the water, a pool of it spreading from your clothes onto the stone beneath you. Your throat burned as you tried to gulp down air, and you coughed again. “Wh—?”

You felt yourself pulled upward, arms banding around your shoulders. Clint’s hand curled in your damp, tangled hair, your face tucked against the curve of his neck. “You gotta stop scaring me like this, Y/N.”

You coughed a laugh, wrapping an arm around his neck as tears burned your eyes. “I’m working on it.”

.

.

.

tags:@trekkingaroundasgard@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@lol-you-thought@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies@youralphawolf72@maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky@melaclintbartoncorner@loki-is-loved@whovianayesha@bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics@ace-fandom-dumbass@kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa@earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86@darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93

AN: this chapter was short and took far too long to write, but I promise the next one will come much quicker!

AN2: The language we're seeing here is Hungarian - and that's because I'm going to be using a particular fictional Marvel country in a few chapters and it's canonically right next to Hungary, so I figured there would/could be an overlap in the language. No spoilers though!

[harbingerofsillies-reblogs]

You know it's bad when you make a playlist about the hyperfixation

Anyway I tried to put songs I didn't see on other playlists cause I feel like everyone defaults to mother mother

Some highlights under the cut, i would put them all if i didn't have a 30 images limit lol

I like to put songs in order based on the chronological order of the story so the mood of the lyrics actually fits the vibe and all

Also so many of these are Toga POV

The Garden is a song about being queer in a religious community and idk I feel like Togachako's whole "weird" thing they had going on was also for being queer and anyway, Ochako repressed her feelings a lot and I like to see this verse as Himiko telling her to stop repressing herself

I can only imagine this as them talking to each other cause some things fit Himiko and some Ochako and this song generally just makes me depressed tbh

They're so Dear Arkansas Daughter coded. The "as my love for you dies" are Himiko after Ochako tells her she deserves whatever's coming to her.

Himiko again, same thing as before.

Still Himiko cause despite it all, despite how mad and angry and "that's strange cause I don't think about you anymore" she's still hung up about it.

This one is both of them tbh

Depending on the verse it fits them both

Himiko during the second war with the sad man's death parade

Their fight in general tbh

This song is about a relationship that's basically over but neither of the people in the relationship actually end it and like,,, Himiko,,,, cause Togachako was doomed and Himiko didn't want anything to do with Ochako but Ochako wouldn't let her quit and kept reaching for her,,,

Himiko.

I'm still replaying my strangers edit in my head 24/7 like it's rotating inside a microwave. (Also this song's actual meaning is definitely not romantic but the theme of cannibalism with these two breaks me cause like,,, yeah Ochako lived in the end but imagine her body reacted badly for a bit to Himiko's blood like,,, "If i'm turning in your stomach and I'm making you feel sick",,, i fucking love this song,,,)

both.

Ochako cause she could literally spot her tears in a sea of clones.

Do I even need to explain myself.

Francesca by Hozier THE love song. Also obvious Ochako pov along with the next few songs.

This song is SO important to me, no one gets "we'll never have sex" like I do ok- that said: Himiko.

Ochako. I'm making myself cry over my own playlist.

I literally plan on tattooing this song on my skin, NO ONE GETS HUNGER LIKE I DO, again Himiko, I'm starting to see a pattern maybe I kin her.

Between two lungs is about sharing a breath during a kiss literally and i feel like it fits their blood transfusion so badly-

Himiko's resolve as she dies happily. I'm in denial sure but it's what happened. But I'm in denial.

Ochako's grief process yay (kill me)

The end. I'm sad. I'm gonna go cry.

[disdaidal]

Touch starved roommates, touch starved ROOMMATES!

Oh 🙊 This is one of my favorite tropes, honestly. I've also loved writing this one (even if it's not a ST ship, but anyway).

This turned out a bit long (I was supposed to post a small snippet only) but oh well:

—

Slowly, Cloud started running his long, slender fingers through Zack's hair again. Massaging the scalp underneath with gentle, rotating motions. The blond tried his best not to gawk at his gorgeous raven-haired friend whose head rested comfortably on his lap. Bright blue eyes speckled with mako green, half-lidded and hazy—long dark eyelashes spread like a curtain around them—, stirring prettily every time Cloud's fingers hit the spot. Cloud bit his lower lip and barely held back a whine when Zack's eyes closed, and the other man suddenly hummed deep and low in his throat. A sound which vibrated deep within his chest, and came out less like a sigh and more like a small moan. If Cloud didn't know any better, he could've sworn this moment between them had slowly turned almost... erotic. The thought alone made him swoon, just a little bit. His mind had quickly drifted off somewhere else for a moment—to a land far, far away filled with dreams and inappropriate desires regarding his best friend slash roommate—that Cloud knew he should not even consider doing, let alone be thinking of. Deep in thought, swirling through a hot daydream, Cloud's hands had gradually stalled over Zack’s head. His mind spiraling out of control and entering an unknown territory, that felt both strange and good; far better than his reality. His head spun, his ears rang with the blood rushing through them, and his chest suddenly constricted with emotions and desires that couldn't be unleashed, so he kept them safely locked inside his mind instead. That is until a snap of fingers interrupted him. Cruelly pulling and dragging him away from that sweet, sweet, hot daydream, that made him feel so happy and safe for a moment. Away in a dream. Cloud blinked dumbly. His big, baby blue eyes all wide and confused. "Huh?" And there it was again. That wide, playful grin that Zack used whenever he was flirty—with Cloud, or just anyone, really. The corners of his eyes wrinkled with joy while his turquoise eyes glinted and sparkled with this sudden, self-satisfied mischief.

"Where were you? You kind of zoned out for a bit," Zack asked, smirking. "Were you daydreaming about me?" Cloud's face burned. He looked away, not wanting to witness that stupid, smug grin plastered on Zack's stupid, smug handsome face, that Cloud had become all too familiar with and knew like the back of his hand. Unlike Zack, Cloud was painfully shy on most days, and his cocky roommate love to tease him and make him blush.

Cloud wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Not today, not now. “Don’t be ridiculous, Zack. Why would I ever daydream about you?” “Hmm, let me see...” Zack put a finger on his lower lip, pretending to look thoughtful there for a moment. Cloud considered punching him just for that. “Oh, I know! Cause I’m hot, irresistible and funny?" "Umm, how about modest?" Zack hummed, casually and unironically, and continued, "'Without me, your life would be lonely, boring and miserable. 'Cause you're not exactly a people person, Cloud; you don't actually go out and put effort into making new friends and connections, so that's where I come in. I bring them here and take us to all these cool parties, so you won't have to sit here alone and die of boredom. Also, not to be mean or anything but you can't cook to save your life. Like, seriously, dude. You lived off of microwave foods and energy drinks for months until this one mysterious, handsome chef moved in, took over your kitchen and saved your day. And every single day he cooks you these nice, delicious meals completely free of charge and out of the goodness of his pure heart because he likes to see you full and happy. So... you're welcome, babe."

Cloud rolled his eyes and wanted to argue that there was absolutely nothing mysterious about Zack. But his lips had already quirked at his friend's words, instantly betraying his delicate, quickly crumbling facade. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Zack whose victorious grin only seemed deepen at this quiet admission. Zack wiggled his eyebrows stupidly, and Cloud could only snort fondly and shake his head at him. This guy. “You’re so full of yourself. You know that, right?” “But I’m not wrong, am I? You'd miss me, terribly.”

[weareallgonnaliveforawhile]

your swap au is really cool!!!! I am rotating them in my mind like a microwave :] I have some questions about it, if thats okay :D (you don't have to answer ofc), will elq lose his memories while with the federation like canon qq did? how does the watcher react to qq rather than elq? what is the islanders relationship with qq - do they wind up liking him more than elq as they do in canon or do they just want their friend back?

I'm curious to see how the quackities' relationships with the federation play out; they don't seem to have the same role within the Fed, swap!qq feels more like an attempt at a permanent replacement than elq does..

(sorry for any errors or if i sound odd, it is quite late where I am ^-^)

No problem! I'm honestly just surprised that someone likes my au.

El does lose his memory but him with Amnesia is very different from Canon! Quackity with amnesia. While canon!Quackity was like a lost child, El was more like a feral cat. His amnesia was kept more of a secret because his friends knew how much he kept to himself. Those who didn't immediately find him once he was back only found out because they directly stumbled upon him and figured it out before someone could whisk the man away.

It's odd. To see someone who once was so full of energy and anger who once argued with you over nothing, look at you with nothing but fear and distrust.

-

The watcher and Quackity have a weird relationship. Quackity treats him oddly, like an old friend sometimes and a begrudging ally at others. Sometimes the Watchers requests are responded to casually but with excitement, and sometimes they're responded to with the same formalness that you'd reserve for your boss...

-

Oh my god, I love this last question. They fucking hate Quackity. Some are more tolerant of him than others like Etoiles who can't bring himself to hate someone who shares the face of one of his closest friends. But the others? Especially Cellbit and Roier? They want his head on a pike.

Quackity smiles more than El Quackity did. He grins and giggles and jokes in ways that aren't morbid and don't somehow threaten multiple children. They still hate him. His friendliness is a slap in the face more than anything else. They did not resent ElQ for his personality or behavior, far from it, they loved him because of it.

There is a happier copy of their friend. Their amazing paranoid friend who once stole Phil's door because he was angry at him. They don't want a copy, a cheap imitation of their friend, they want their friend back.

Guapoduo and Bad hate him the most. El was extremely close with Cellbit and Roier, and neither man could stand being around Quackity for long without a buffer. Bad and El had a...weird relationship that was mutually antagonistic and positive (Think Landduo but with a bit more murder attempts). Bad nearly took Quackity's head off his shoulders with his claws alone the first time he saw him.

They don't want Quackity's smiles which split his face with how hard he's smiling, they want ElQuackity's smiles which are small and wobbly from how hard he always tries to hide them. They hate Quackity's laughter which is loud with his head tipped back because they love ElQ's quiet laughter with his head tipped forward.

It gets worse when they figure out that Quackity is definitely in league with the Federation, but there was no possibility of love from the start. How could they love such a poor imitation when they knew the real thing?

----

For the last bit, I'm so happy that you caught that. You're absolutely right that they don't hold the same role, Quackity is a bit more... versatile than Canon!ElQ so he has a fairly different (but somewhat) similar role.

Thank you soooooo much for asking! I love questions so much.

[derangedfujoshi]

I've been thinking a lot about what makes the scene in DDD where Ansem pins Riku down so viscerally distinct. And I realized it's the first time Ansem actually ever laid a hand on Riku. Like normally he uses darkness or Guardian. Hell only a few minutes before this scene, Ansem uses darkness to drag Riku down (though its funnier imaging he is dragging Riku by his legs from under the darkness)

The only other time Ansem comes close is in COM:RR when he tries grabbing Riku in the dark. Also towards his head. You'd think a heartless would go after his heart. Or be more controlling and go for the neck. Probably could squeeze a meta out of that about Ansem actually being after Riku's whole being. Not just his body and/or his heart 🤔

Sorry just been feeling really feral about Risem lately (also if I sent this ask before, I'm so sorry. I couldn't remember if I actually sent you something or just kept thinking about it but never did)

Oh. My. God. You're SO right that IS the first time he actually TOUCHES HIM!?!??!?!!!

It's always been so... Metaphysical and "ethereal"(?) in a way between them up until that scene in DDD that I've just,,, never stopped to consider the implications? Because yeah in my head the touched plenty but IN GAME they actually basically never did? And now... I wonder why? Maybe cause Ansem is not used to it himself? Maybe cause he hasn't actually thought of them being separated entities on a conscious level up until that point? Because let's be honest, up until DDD Ansem was still on the "let's get this body for Xehanort" train, so he was more mh used to being a "puppet master" from the shadows acting from WITHIN Riku rather than an entity with a body of its own capable of actually touching HIM??

Thinking about it, he probably got a body of its own around that time? Because for SURE he didn't during CoM, hence why he only "reached" towards Riku in that one scene and didn't actually touch him...

Oh man, how would've felt for him, a disembodied entity only used to hitch a ride inside somebody else, to actually TOUCH and FEEL Riku for the very first time?? With hands that weren't his own?? Oh my god I'm going to feel SICK! I never stopped to consider this "in between" segment of their relationship cause I either focused on the beginning or the end of it but Uuughhhhh MY HEAD

THIS WAS SUCH A MIND BLOWING ASK THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GIVING ME ANOTHER THING TO ROTATE INTO THE MICROWAVE UNTIL IT MELTS!!!!!!!!

[saltedswan]

Returns

The kitchen I grew up in is unremarkable, really. The most notable thing about it is how little space there is to work in, as it's got an ancient oven with the microwave over it crammed right up against the refrigerator that hosts new bills and an old missing person poster. The second most notable thing is that we haven't covered up the lines on the doorway that measured our heights through the years; I'm as tall as my dad was the last time we measured him, which means my last height line was not made permanent.

Getting any kind of meal used to be an ordeal. Sometimes it still is, if Mom's home. Right now, it's just making food that I need in the space that I have.

Mom's still at her third shift nursing job, my friends online are all playing a PVP shooter I suck at, and I cannot mentally take one more minor inconvenience without some kind of carb in my stomach or I will cry. I'm sitting on the counter, watching the chunked potatoes rotate in the microwave, when the pressure of the room changes so violently that my ears pop.

When I finish cursing and rubbing at my eyes, I blink at broken tile on the floor in front of the fridge and realize there is a foot standing on it. Attached to a person.

I should be home alone. I should not have a man in my personal space. I especially should not have a man I recognize in my personal space, but my brain seems to think freeze is the correct response here-- maybe I'm too hungry for fight or flight; maybe the impossibility of it all is short-circuiting me.

We stare at each other. My eyes wide with panic, his soft with relief, both sets made of the same exact coppery brown, until I stutter out a word that means my brain has made the connection about those eyes. "Dad?"

He's older than I remember. Obviously, I mean, he left when I was nine. He's still got over half a head of hair, and it's well kept enough to evoke images of knights or monks instead of Greg in the trailer down the road from the gas station. He's not as soft around the edges as the man I knew, either, but I guess neither am I.

When I was six years old, I cracked my skull open. The scar took years to heal into something that could be fully hidden by my hair, running from my temple along the back of my ear, branching off to make a line from my jaw to the crown of my head. I was gloating about winning a card game against Dad, wearing soft little socks with cartoon characters on them, and slipped on the hardwood floor. I don't remember the blood or the pain, now; I just remember the swooping way my stomach didn't quite follow the rest of my body down, the tilting of the world before impact, and a glimpse of Dad's face in the transition from bemused to terrified.

For a split second, everything about this moment takes me back to that one.

"I can explain," he says, as if I asked. As if I'm accusing him of something. Maybe I should be, considering the years of missing-assumed-dead and all, but I don't know how to feel yet. I guess my not being completely elated was enough for him to feel the underlying resentment and disbelief, though.

His eyes have an edge of panic to them now. Desperation. It's almost satisfying, definitely hurtful, and I feel that pressure at the back of my eyes I've been fighting all night.

"I was--there was a curse," He stammers out. His voice isn't exactly like in the video we have of him from our last family vacation. Fuller timbre, rounder vowels. "I was the only one who could break it."

I don't register his words for a second, and then I know how I feel. The tears filling my eyes burn as much as the frustration in my throat.

He looks alarmed, starts stammering more excuses that I don't register over the droning of the microwave and the rushing of my own breath. I have to be dreaming, because what I do hear sounds an awful lot like fairy tales.

I shake my head when he tries to step closer to me, but there's nowhere I can go, stuck sitting on the counter with him blocking the exit. His hands brush against my arms and he's got calluses on his palms that scratch my skin and snag on the fabric of my shirt. He's embracing me, his words becoming unsteady and hitched as his hand smooths over my hair.

I feel the moment he feels my scar, and just like the day I got it I'm needing to comfort him and tell him that everything will be fine. I tell him I'm just glad to see him. I say I'm sorry for crying. I'm lying, in the big way that'll cause problems for me later.

Finally, I ask where he's been. He pulls away, takes a breath, steadies himself while he looks at me as if I'm the one liable to vanish on him.

It occurred to me, years down the line with a missing dad and no one to eat dinner with while mom worked and finished school, that he had let me win that card game. Sometimes I hated him for it. If he hadn't, I might have lived a life more able to blend in. I might not have started a pattern of apologizing for my pain. Sometimes I recognized that he was just being nice. Sometimes I'm sorry I ruined his night.

I ask, again. He tells me, "I told you where I've been. I was helping people, fighting monsters."

I shake my head, not really disagreeing with him as much as refusing the reality where my dad could be any kind of hero in this situation.

He holds his hand to the side, and a bright flash makes me start. I nearly give myself whiplash with how fast I turn to see the source, expecting a lighter or a gun or a phone or a camera. What's formed suddenly between us can't be what I'm actually seeing, because I swear I'm looking at a sword made of light. The shape of it is angular, incandescent lines refracting its own light into little prismatic patterns on Dad's worried face.

"Thank all the plains that still works," He mutters. I wonder, distantly, if him picking up phrases from wherever he's been means he's given some of our phrases to that place. I wonder if I'm asleep.

When we sat together in the hospital, back then, he told me stories to distract me from the part where I was in the hospital. His weird fairytales almost worked to keep me from thinking about all of the new ways my skin pulled every time I moved or smiled or breathed.

I wonder, now, if the stories of this place he's been will distract me from all of the new ways my life has to shape around knowing they might be true.

The microwave beeps.

[drop--pop--candy]

i hope you didn't miss me too much~ tis i, ever-sparkling sylvie, gracing your inbox at a timely twelve am! at least, in my timezone. please don't worry about my sleep schedule. i find myself awake during these hours a lot of the time. i hope you're enjoying whatever hour it is where you are ♪

i really did mean to hop in at least once in the past, what, twenty-four hours? but whenever it passed my mind it slipped right out and i'd totally forget. but now i've remembered, yay!

i'd just like to tell you that i suddenly got hit with a burst of inspiraton and creative clarity? it's CRAZY. i was thinking about one of my fic projects, kind of just twirling the characters around in my head—a more graceful interpretation of rotating them as if in a microwave—and it kind of just...came to me. and i kept on thinking, kept mentally writing, telling myself, oh, this is really good, until it came to the point where i thought: man. do i have to ground this somewhere.

i don't know if anyone other than myself does this, but i like to look up locations that pop up in my stories that i haven't personally been to, or just pull inspiration from real places that have found their way into the file cabinet labeled 'inspiration' in my heart. to me, it grounds the scene and gives my concepts a backgrop. and what i was struck with, then, was good enough to be grounded. so i started looking at airbnbs in seoul! (some context: fic is set in korea; character a is visiting & character b is based in kr; scene is about cooking; story has more of a homey feel so i'd rather have this & other important scenes take place in a proper house rather than, like, a kitchenette hotel.) and oh my goodness. within a minute i'd found the most beautiful house... it's clean, white, and with wooden accents. not the most cozy, per se, but definitely serene. and it has the most lush, peaceful back garden. i fell in love! truly, i fell in love. i can't wait to write this scene. but first, i felt the need to tell you the good news, because it'd been an unintentionally long while since i'd last reached out & i wanted to compensate. i know a day or so isn't so long, but i really did mean to reach out to you during that time. lol.

i hope you, too, are struck with the inspiration, motivation, and energy i have! in all honesty i've been having a rough patch so i feel as if this came to save my day. i hope that today, something saves your day, at least a little. my apologies for going on such a long tangent about myself. thank you for entertaining me! i hope my message comes as a sweet surprise to you, in the same way my muse so kindly came to me.

♡, sylvie

hi sylvie!!! i'm glad you're back!! i was afraid i scared you off lol

as i'm writing this, it's creeping up on 2am. that's not weird for me tho i stay up this late all the time during summer. dw abt not popping in!! i am the most forgetful person like ever lmaoaoao so i get it

that's really good to hear!! it's always great when inspiration strikes like that :3 i've heard some of my other writer friends look places up to help with their stories. personally i tend to just make stuff up when i write but i totally understand how basing it on a real place could really help with being able to visualize it!!

i haven't had anything massive that's "saved my day" or anything, but i have had a handful of really nice interactions with my friends over the past couple of days :D and that's really all i can hope for yk?

really it's no worries at all! i like hearing people talk about things that bring them joy it's sort of like they're sharing that feeling with me if that makes sense :> it was a nice surprise!! asks pretty much always are, they're not exactly frequent but i cherish all of them <33

[bokutsumie]

Hihi ! Since requests are open may I ask for kyotani (GRR SO YUMMY QLOSKSJAKAJ) iwaizumi, yaku, and akaashi if Y/n was cooking something and being like “baby come here and taste this for me” and grabbing their jaw and holding it out for him to try 🧍🏽‍♀️

HAIKYUU BOYS REACTING TO YOU GRABBING THEIR JAW TO TASTE YOUR COOKING

-> kyotani, iwa, yaku, akaashi

-> genre: fluff

-> warnings: food, swearing

-> gender neutral

-> hi bae 😏 you're my guinea pig for the new headcanon format i decided to try ! i don't know if i like this (short little scenario blurbs), or bulleted lists better. anyways i hope you like it ✊🏻 sorry kyotani's is kind of bad idk how to write for his character very well <\3

## KYOTANI !!

he was sitting on the sofa when you called him, "hey baby can you come over here and taste this for me?" and he responded quickly with "what is it? i'm sure it's fine."

"baby please? i think it needs more salt but i don't wanna make it too salty."

he stood up from his position on the couch and walked over next to you looking at the closed pot.

he was going to open the drawer next to the stove, however you rotated your body to block the drawer, opened the pot on the stove, scooped up some food, and grabbed his jaw while you shoved the wooden spoon in his mouth.

kyotani kentaro™ has stopped working. please restart the program and try again.

he wasn't the type to blush or get flustered, but you had always been his weak spot. he felt butterflies in his stomach, and decided to just enjoy the domestic moment between you two.

he's a bit of a closed off type of person and doesn't initiate much, but when you pull shit like this he loves it.

"it's fine, how long until it's done? 'm fuckin starving."

## IWAIZUMI !!

"hey baby? can you come here for a second?"

you were standing in front of the stove, and the kitchen was a mess. you were used to cooking but you were trying something new and you just didn't quite know if it tasted right.

iwaizumi swiveled on his heels down the hallway of your shared apartment, and shuffled towards your backside. he hooked his thumbs in your front belt loops and rested his chin on your shoulder.

"what's up?" his voice was lower than usual, his daily afternoon nap had accidentally turned into an evening one, only having woke up fifteen minutes prior.

"can you taste this for me? it seems like it needs something but i don't know what." you spun around, he unhooked his thumbs from your belt loops and you saw him stood in front of you, his hair tossled and eyes half-lidded, slouching now that he wasn't holding onto you.

"mhm." he replied, sleep still laced in his voice.

but when you grabbed his jaw and he felt the spoon poking at his bottom lip, his eyes were not only completely open now but it seems that his hair has a life of its own, and it's all spiky like he's just done it.

a rosy red creeps up onto his cheeks as his gives you a wide stare and hesitantly takes the spoon into his mouth, still utterly focused on your fingers gently holding his chin.

he has butterflies doing backflips in his stomach right now, and can't seem to fathom why it was necessary for you to hold his chin, but he didn't care, he loved it nonetheless.

you saw that he looked much more awake now, and he replied to your previous question with "no, it's good. what spices did you use? i like it." but he still sounded sleepy.

"okay thank you! you're never gonna sleep tonight once you completely wake up. i told you to set your alarm for 3!"

## YAKU !!

"hey! get over here. is this good?" you asked as yaku walked through the front door, just getting home.

"aw, did you miss me that much?" he replied, his tone was teasing.

"not at all. now get your ass over here before i dump the pot on your head." you two would always tease each other. you knew the other person was joking, but most people around you always ended up thinking that you hated each other.

he shuffled to your side, taking his shoes off and throwing them against the wall next to the front door in the process. "you know, i wouldn't have to ask you for cooking advice if i made dinner." he said, a shit eating grin on his face and his hands in fists at his hips.

"oh shut up, you know you'd burn the house down if i even let you touch the microwave." you spoke, grabbing his jaw and shoving the spoon in his mouth.

he was startled, to say the least. his cheeks heated up involuntary as he tried to hide the fact that you may or may not have given him major butterflies.

"it's fine, just needs some salt." he said the last part quietly, just to irritate you a little more, he couldn't hurt his pride too much. he walked past you and dumped the spoon in the sink, but not before flicking the back of your head first. you rolled your eyes as you kept stirring. idiot, you thought.

## AKAASHI !!

you heard the thumping of his footsteps descending down the wooden stairs, signaling that akaashi was probably coming down to see how dinner was going. considering, you were supposed to be done with it twenty minutes ago.

akaashi wasn't impatient, he had just wondered if you hurt yourself or broke something because there had been less clangs and bangs coming from the kitchen for the past couple minutes.

"hey baby, can you come taste this for me? i've remade it tons of times and it just doesn't taste right."

"of course. i was a bit worried you had given up a while ago because it was kind of quiet. i'm glad you didn't because i'm hungry." his last sentence was a mumble. you're accompanied by him at your side not too short afterward.

"smells good," he slings a hand around your waist, "i'm sure it's fine, you made it." the last part hummed against your skull as he placed his lips on your forehead.

you turned in his grip and he still held his hand on your waist, adding his other to your left side now. now, you used one hand to hold the spoon, and the other cupped underneath it to make sure it wouldn't spill. you guided it toward him, and as he took the spoon in his mouth, you moved your free hand and placed a few fingers below his chin, making sure it didn't spill.

akaashi adored domestic moments like this, he wouldn't call himself a sap but he sure didn't mind having moments like these frequently. you stroked your thumb over his jaw a bit before you released your hand to place the spoon on the counter.

one of his hands moved up to squeeze your shoulder. "it's good, i like the flavor. we should eat soon so we can go to bed early, you look sleepy."

TAGS: @we-mentally-unstable @1itt1el0v3 @milktyama @cvsmixplant

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[tinnchan]

@thiansong

EP 1 THOUGHTS!!!!!!! had to go to sleep yesterday but here i am now

first of all i really enjoyed it. but also it made me cry already and i wasn't mentally prepared for that. they said let's see how much trauma we can inflict on this little gay boy in the span of one episode. i'm adopting thian and taking him away from that house. we're going to chinese opera together and i'm buying him all the prettiest hairpins. no but how can you treat a child like that???? he literally was just playing wtf leave him alone!!!!! i want to jump into the screen and protect him with my life

the way the wives are looking at each other with fierce eyes is really funny ngl. and the fake ass cgi snake 💀 when that aunty brewed the potion and healed thian i was about to stan but then she turned out homophobic :/

also the brotherly bond 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 you both mentioned it and i can see it already. when yang asked thian to perform for him??? and said that he'll take him to see the opera even though he clearly wasn't into it himself 🥺 best ally since kindergarten. they mean so much to me already

it is not fair that the ep ended with grown up thian and i won't be able to watch the next ep until monday 😭 btw how old is he supposed to be?

about the tender gay romance it all went by very quickly but i remember a scene where thian is sleeping on a table and the other guy is treating a tiny wound on his finger? at least that's how i saw it. now do i generally like the wound tending trope? not really. but this? this made me go 😳🥺 and also that moment when thian was looking up at the guy with sooo much love in his eyes

- @ahxu-laowen

adding to my first ep thoughts (idk if you got that ask tho my internet kept lagging 😭) i might be crazy but i got some ~vibes~ from the man who told them about the cut sleeves idk what was that about they kept focusing on him 👀 is he secretly gay and in love with tian's dad or what. but imagine being tian and the first time you hear the word homosexual is in those circumstances. and then you hear your mom say that you are acting like that man who got kicked out by your dad and then killed himself and she cries and tells you that you can never ever be like that or you'll lose everything and punishes you. and then you grow up and realise that you are like that man. what kind of future can he see for himself with all this trauma. god this is so fucked up i want to throw hands also idk about bua (?? the mistress really not sure if that's her name or something i cane up with) like she's too good. i don't trust that. she will either do something bad or something bad will happen to her. but for now i like her 🥺 she found out what homosexual meant and immediately bacame an ally sorry for being incoherent akhshks i'm rotating the first ep in my head like it's a microwave. why did i start watching this when i knew i won't be able to continue until three days later 😭😭😭😭 - @ahxu-laowen

First of all, I am so sorry I took this long to reply and deprived Quan of your episode 1 thoughts. This was utterly responsible as co-holder of the cojoint to sir with love, ask box. I shall endeavour to respond much more promptly from now on.

I am so so so glad you enjoyed it! And oof, YES. The first episode was INTENSE. I feel so so bad for Zhang and his lover and young Tian who had to witness this tragedy and it being used against him as a source of shame. Oof. Forever slightly confused that Madam Li saw his very young son dress up as a Chinese opera heroine once and and immediately concluded that yes, this is a raging homosexual in the making. Which, sure, kinda but I hate that she is right in this instance. I want nothing more than to tag along with you as you kidnap young Tian and shower him with the love and affirmation he deserves and a 1000 hairpins. T H E C G I S N A K E S. I nearly dropped the show cause I was laughing too hard but im glad i persevered. THE BROTHERLY LOVE. Let me just say that we must also kidnap Yang because there's no Tian without Yang. They love each other so fiercely it is absolutely the core of the show and my favourite part about it and I cannot wait for you to witness it. They are absolutely everything. When you said tender gay yearning I went "pff...you mean all of their scenes together" but it totally makes sense that it's THAT scene. I am glad that you like Bua but I shall not expand more in case I accidentally spoil you on whether or not she stays wholesome and pure and an #ally. Same thing for the guy who is suspiciously knowledgeable about the legend of the cut sleeve. Mayhaps he is just Mr exposition guy..mayhaps he is more. We shall see. Also...Omg?! I don't know how you are managing because I remember that episode finishing on these shots of a grown up Tian smiling to his notebook and my heart nearly exploded inside my chest I immediately had to click onto the next episode.