#except there’s less angst and more hopeless pining

[vatelixx]

On the concept of ‘want’, (part 2):

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

Part one here.

—> SMUT!!! and copious amounts of yearning and fluff, and like maybe some angst??? I wasn’t originally going to do a part 2 because it worked pretty well as a one shot, but I really liked their dynamic (and hyper fixated on it for HOURS), so here we are— it details the build up to their relationship, and then provides an epilogue to the end of part 1.

Warnings: sub spencer, corruption kink still present (but Spencer plays into it this time, what? who keeps writing that??? they need help???), greek mythology references and endless space facts (nerds), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader always (except she still for the life of her can’t be mean to Spencer, it’s those fucking brown eyes), begging, crying (pussy remains that good), praise kink, degrading names (slut, whore, because hello??? Spencer Reid breathes and he’s a slut to me), them being total losers for each other, they’re both still geniuses and they’re both still too domestic for my sanity, alcohol but no inebriated sex (a lot happens OKAY??), aftercare always!!

— brief brief mentions of rape in correlation to Greek Mythology (male Gods are disgusting)

w.c: 8k (im not mentally okay)

a/n: i wrote the smut and then had to take a cold shower (i cry for my digital footprint). i wanted to put this out on Spencer’s birthday, but I got distracted— i think he would be happy I dedicated all of my shots to him (and then had to explain that no he’s not actually a real person but rather a fictional character)

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Prequel, the build up, (pre ‘part I’):

Spencer is barely conscious, drifting in that half-way state, all tousled hair and messy clothes. He’s dishevelled, at best, cradling a coffee (too much sugar, limited caffeine). Early start, the sun has only begun to burn by the time he reaches his desk. Torture, it’s torture the way you linger, it makes his brain distort, fracture into a tangled mess of nothing. How is it scientifically possible that one’s presence alone can reduce his mind to static? He’s not sure whether he loves or hates the abrupt decline in his IQ.

7AM. There’s bags pooling beneath his eyes, crimson distressed shadows, insufficient sleep can hinder the brains ability to regulate emotion, attention. It’s fine. He’s fine.

To put it simply, you’re terrifying. A carefully crafted figment of intelligence. He wonders if you’ve ever pressed a knife to someone’s skin before, it’s more intimate than a bullet. Hands on. It’s not a morbid thought, he doesn’t consider himself that hedonistic. Jobs in the BAU are coveted, and yet, in despite of your age, you were offered to join. No strings attached, no extensive training— nearly a year of working alongside you has proven that you’re more qualified for this than anyone could’ve anticipated. Is it cruel to say you were made to analyse, to deceive and coerce the most callous minds?

It’s demeaning, sure. But there is nothing more to you than the job. You clock in, and your personality becomes bound, restrained, kept away from him.

He’s trying. They’re all trying; to accommodate you, to ease you into the team. Drinks after hours, even intoxicated, you’re meticulous at keeping yourself away from anything inherently personal.

But right now, you’re here, and you’re so pretty. “Early,” he groans, letting his face drop to the desk. He likes that you’re shifting closer to him, that out of everyone, the rare, celestial phenomenon, moments of vulnerability are reserved for him. They’re brief, and admittedly a little sharp around the edges, but Spencer is selfish in admitting that he wants them all to himself. To hoard them and gloat, because no one has ever chosen him first before.

And you, you justify this ‘friendship’ because you’re indisputably human, because you do need someone (even if you’re too proud to ever accept that), and of course it would be Spencer. You’re both too young to be here, skipping a multitude of stages in the rise to an FBI agent, trauma bonding over the weight of your scathed experiences. Plus, you share an element of difference; your brains are abnormal, wired in unique, distinctive ways in contrast to the average human. It makes sense. It’s logical.

“Too early.” you agree, shifting to lean against his desk. “Did you read that article I sent you? The one about astrophysics and how it can shape human experiences?”

“Of course I read it,” He looks up, bleary-eyed behind his glasses, half-lidded gaze flickering across you. Maybe there should be an element of competition to your dynamic; you’re both geniuses, working alongside each other in close close (oh— close) proximity, but there’s not. For all of your sharpness, you’ve never once seen him as anything but your equal.

He turns his head, hair falling, obstructing his sight, a mess of brown, tousled and out of place. His brain is already working overtime, absorbing every detail about your appearance: your heavy, maddening eyes, your shirt (wrinkled, untucked), your watch (gold), the pen stuck behind your ear. Analytical, analytical, analytical.

“Don’t ask me about it.” he continues, “I’m halfway through an essay on my thoughts about it, expect a message tonight.”

That’s a new progression. Whenever he can’t sleep, whenever his thoughts are fervid and incessant, his mind caught on obscure facts, he’ll text you. Let you wake to paragraphs upon paragraphs of information on miscellaneous subjects. He’s never really understood ‘texting etiquette’, abbreviations and short responses.

“Can’t wait.” you hum. Oh, and you mean it.

“Can’t wait? First time i’ve heard that one,” he laughs.

He glances down at your shoes— combat boots, of course. Practical, sturdy, thick leather worn down with use. He can’t look at your face right now, not when you’re soul-crushingly beautiful, and you’re taking an interest in his quirks. But, oh your face— using the golden ratio as a foundation, you’re… well, perfect. Sure, the dark shadows pooling beneath your eyes reduce points, but he likes them, it’s a subtle, yet impaling, reminder that you’re real, that despite everything, you’re undeniably human.

It’s a mess, he’s aware that it’s an unnecessarily disjointed mess; the universe decided to torture him (painfully so), by placing the personification of perfection in front of him. Reachable distance, and yet, you still feel light years away. So far, because god he loves you— he loves you in ways he can’t even speak about. But what is love, and how does he comprehend it when he’s never been in its orbit? Not until now.

“And yeah,” he continues, adjusting his glasses. “I’m drafting a response, of course I am. You think I’d not send you an in-depth message? That would be a disservice to your knowledge.”

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Detroit, 8hr flight, mid-morning, coffee and case files, an endless haze of intentions, behavioural patterns regarding the most recent unsub. Spencer always chooses to sit beside you, it’s non-negotiable, assigned. He spends half of his time curled up in the corner, catching a few minimal hours of sleep, and the other half rambling. At this point, you know a lot about him. Months and months of knowledge, some he’s told you, some you’ve profiled: he always carries a satchel (dog-eared novels and notebooks consisting of half-finished thoughts), his favourite season is halloween (when he first came to your apartment and saw various autumnal decor, despite it being mid-July, he smiled so much you thought you were going to die), and he’s afraid of the dark. Trivial pieces of information. Unnecessary, and yet you still store them for safe keeping.

“So,” he mumbles after briefing, “It’s nearly Halloween…”

Those words. The simple declaration of a date that you were already aware of sentences your fate. Of course you’ve noticed the rest of the team deftly turning down his invites at any occasion possible, but to receive one? You’ve never been a people pleaser, in fact, if anything you’re the polar opposite. Blunt like a knife, intransigent, unwilling to spare feelings for the sake of etiquette.

But you do agree when he offers to make plans.

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Pumpkin patches, seasonal harvest. The leaves beneath your heavy platforms are ochre. It’s late- afternoon when you get to the festival, even later when you manage to coerce Spencer into humouring one of the ghost-walks.

But, you got distracted, tangled up in some tangent about Roman philosophy, Plato’s symposium, different accounts of eros. Socrates and his belief in stoicism, unwavering to the pretence of beauty, turning down Alcibiades— the most desirable.

You can only laugh. You laugh, and no, you’ve never laughed like that before. It shuts down Spencer’s body, renders him incapable for a good few moments. And now, suddenly he’s gone dumb, because he wants to get lost every weekend, just to hear it over and over again until it’s firmly imprinted into his brain for good. You breathe, and he’s brain-dead.

“This isn’t funny—“ he tries.

“No you’re right. It’s not funny at all.” you lie. Straight. Through. Your. Teeth. All things considered, you’ve had fun today— which is admittedly a feat in itself.

“Don’t worry,” you continue, knocking your shoulder into his. “I’ll protect you.“

“You do that enough anyways,” he states; it’s true, you’re a little too assertive on the field, unwilling to let him stumble inadvertently into danger. Maybe it’s just because you’re now acquainted with the knowledge of his previous missteps. Or maybe it’s because you care — not in the way he cares about you, obviously. But he’s willing to take what he can get. Anything, as long as it from you.

Spencer hates the dark (it’s common knowledge, the absence of light is unsettling) and with his flashlight wavering, stuttering in and out of use, he’s forced to stray close to you, to share your working one. It feels like the start of some budgeted horror movie he’d possibly take you to see, speaking through the entirety, pointing out the obvious scientific flaws.

“Why do you have so many layers on?” He asks, watching your face. The flashlight in your hand illuminates the small clearing around them, casting your face in a starker light. Every contour, every blemish, every freckle is more pronounced in the cold.

“You look like a burrito,” he adds, unable to stop himself.

You scoff, “I run cold.”

Pine-oak and cold, the air is sharp, plainly glacial at this time of night. It’s an amusing way to spend halloween; even though you’re currently missing out on the tour you paid for. “And, I don’t look like a burrito, thank you. Very astute evaluation, Reid. Your words are clearly so intellectual.”

“Yes, well— I am a doctor, remember? Astute observation skills are a priority on the requirements list. And actually,—“ you huff out a breath, and his forthcoming tangent dissolves before it can escape his lips. Usually, you humour the onslaught, the mess of facts— but, considering they’re directly aimed at you tonight, it’s clear that circumstances are in fact different.

He tucks his hands into his pockets, knuckles blemished red from the cold, rose shadows that match the flush to his face. “I’m glad you said yes, to this. Most of the team,” he laughs awkwardly, “Well, they usually ignore my invites. So yeah, it’s nice not to be alone for halloween.“

He’s quick to move on, to shift shift the subject. “And— as for the,” he continues, glancing down at your attire. “The excessive layers— I just meant that you look comfortable. If you’re running cold, then you need all those layers. It’s not a critique.” Another huff, and he glances awkwardly around the clearing.

“I’m just rambling.” He murmurs, “As per usual. I need to, uh— to stop doing that.” A pause. Silence.

You’re not really digesting his words anymore, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts— it’s a few moments before you speak again. You turn your gaze towards him, observing the sight of him in the perpetual darkness, profile only illuminated by faint trances of your flash-light. Swollen lips, half-bitten, brown eyes blown out of proportion, irises wide and unabated.

You know a lot about him, that’s already been established. Albeit, there’s still fragments you haven’t quite discovered yet. And sure, you shouldn’t want to find out, to unravel him completely. You shouldn’t— because that’s a direct transgression to the rules you’ve always set for yourself. But you do.

“Are you..” your face softens, “Uh, are you alone a lot?”

You’ve never been the type to ask about personal life, about the complexities behind closed doors. Sure, you can deduce his home-life through months of experience and mannerisms, but you’ve never asked specifically about his own relationships. The question catches him off-guard.

He blinks, a few too many times, and then finds his eyes are very very interested in staring at his shoes.

“Yeah.” he finally answers, “But it’s okay! I’m used to it. I don’t mind,”

“I have lots of time for my own pursuits,” he adds. “Reading and-— um, chess and stuff. And the team, of course. But— they’re not- they don’t want to, like, hang out. Outside, I mean. They have their own lives, partners. Families, so it makes sense.”

It’s not okay, and you’re uncertain why it pains you so much. Maybe because he makes the effort to arrange plans, to connect, and it goes undervalued, wasted. In contrast, you’re content in loneliness. People are overbearing, insufferable at best. You’ve never had much of an interest in an abundant social life, you’re content in your small, reserved circle. But he has no one.

And yet he has the audacity to pretend it’s okay?

“Well, if you want to like, be lonely together sometime. That would be fine with me.” you say after a moment of strained silence.

His whole life he’s struggled to fit in, to meet, to conform to the expected societal norms. Acceptance, community, humans are wired to want integration, and yet he’s always fallen short. It’s why he throws himself into facts, into research, into studies and books.

His shoulders have slackened. For a slender frame he’s remarkably tense, like he’s waiting for an eventual downfall. “Yeah,” he agrees, “I’d uh, also be fine with that. More than fine actually..”

No one has ever wanted him, they’ve just needed him and he wonders if there’s really even a difference.

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That’s how it starts. Inevitable, in the grand scheme of life and work and you. Spencer watches as you soften, slowly unfold protected layers over countless evenings of chess and movies, and suddenly you’re not so untouchable, so beyond conventional existence, and yeah, berate him for loving you even more because of it.

You’re restless, completely. A night in his apartment is always fated to end with you tugging him through cobbled streets, desperate to catch some air. Tonight, it’s raining. Protected beneath a ledge of a closed shop, you’re approximately 12 minutes away from his place. Spencer should hate you for bulldozing his routine, he really really should. But it’s never that simple, not when it comes to the intricacies of you, and the exhausting effect you prove to have on his sanity.

He leans back against the soaked brick, watching the rain pour over the road, greyed streets, washed out by water. Just passing 10PM, like most nights, his mind seems to be insistent on you you you. And sure, he’s longing (if that even encapsulates his want), longing for something, to connect the invisible line between you two.

“Why am I not surprised,” he mutters, “Always a disaster with you.”

The cold will undoubtedly lead to you being sick, but the sight of you under the glow of streetlights, water-stricken and frustrated— he can’t bring himself to complain. For a moment, he simply stares. At your profile, the sharpness of your features, the exasperation in your blinding gaze. You’re beautiful, in ways he can’t comprehend.

“Hey,” he backtracks, “Not in a bad way, but like, in a you-cause-so-much-unexpected-stuff-to-happen kind of way. You’re always bringing me into messy situations.”

The space between you is so minimal, but so stretching. There’s an invisible wall, one that he won’t ever tear down, can’t ever tear down, in case he loses you. He wants to reach out, to grasp at your hand, your wrist, or even your shoulder. Anything, to feel the barest touch of your skin. Something.

Touch. To feel. He’s never allowed himself to sink into the warmth of someone else before, he’s never been able to. But for all your terror, he knows you’d hold him. Or maybe that’s just what he hopes for. Maybe it’s a delusional hypothetical.

When you do return to his apartment, you’re laughing. A common sight these days, as mind-bending as that might seem. The journey back was discombobulated, rushed movements, jackets spilling over heads, drenched thoroughly, attempting to outrun the inevitable storm that now seems to consume the area.

There’s not a part of you that regrets your offer to be ‘lonely together’ because whilst you despise most humans, Spencer doesn’t seem to be on that list. No, you could spend hours doing nothing with him, and still find it more gratifying than the best laid plans.

Plus, these days he seems happier. You both do.

“You look like a wet dog,” you say as you attempt to sort your way through his soaked hair. You’re sitting on the floor of his kitchen, cold skin pressed against tile.

He grins. You’re both laughing, and it’s so good. “Thanks for the compliment. You know, you’re not much better—“

He finds himself subconsciously, instinctively, leaning into the touch, as if his body has been searching for this, as if his skin is merely wired to only ever respond to your hands. Head tilted backwards, allowing access to the tangled strands, his neck arched slightly so he can still see your face, every expression that passes by.

He has a brief internal war with himself, wondering which part of the situation exactly he’s freaking out over. Maybe it’s the cold, which will undoubtedly leave him sick for the next week? Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve initiated a touch of some variety, your hands in his hair, a moment of human connection. Whatever it is, he can’t help but sit in silence, staring at you like you’ve just hung the stars.

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Both of you are incontrovertibly devoted to work, married in some key aspects. You stay late, ceaseless over-time, covering offices with evidence and reports, rehashing cases until you’re too exhausted to function. So naturally, it’s no surprise that you’re coerced into taking time off, mandatory leave— if only to appease the rest of the team, and their wilting sanity.

Road trip. That’s the ‘logical’ solution, considering you’d both end up exasperated at your respective apartments, overthinking the cases you’ve been shut out of. The Appalachian trail. Neither of you have any interest in the hike, albeit the skyline yurt, overlooking the area, endless planes of landscape, certainly seems like a selling point. If only to keep you countless miles away from work.

November. The days are hazy, mostly due to your shared fatigue, interminable exhaustion. Spencer has abandoned his glasses now, and you try not to mourn the loss.

The drive felt eternal. Hours stuck listening to the radio, only interrupted by Spencer’s endless rambling and your sporadic requests for coffee. There’s something intimate to travelling together. Being trapped in a car, in close proximity, sharing a space.

Now, the two of you are situated in the middle of nowhere, nature, something he’s never really sought out in his life. He’s an intellectual not a lover of the outdoors. Sure, the science of it fascinates him, the endless cycle of life and death, but actually being here — in the midst of it all, amongst the trees and fog — is a foreign concept.

You’re standing beside him, eyes observing the landscape, sharp gaze tracing the outline of the horizon. He wonders if you’re thinking of the city, of work, of anything else besides the freezing air. He just wants to get inside, to feel warm, to stop shivering.

But no, you’re too busy looking at the stars.

“That’s Cetus,” he says, pointing out a constellation, “Sometimes referred to as ‘The Whale’. Cetus, uh.. he was a sea monster in Greek Mythology, sent by Neptune to devour Andromeda. Perseus saved her by turning him to stone using the head of Medusa. Medusa, who he beheaded using a mirrored shield whilst she slept.”

You hum, “It also represents the whale that swallowed Jonah when he disobeyed the Christian’s God.”

“Yeah! Yeah, because Jonah went to Nineveh instead of Tarshish.” he looks back at you, “You know, Cetus covers over 1200 square degrees of sky. But personally, personally, my favourite is Ursa Major.”

“The great bear? Cmon, that’s so basic.”

“No it’s not! What? Don’t judge my taste,” he protests, “It’s named after Arcas. Zeus fell in love with Andromeda—“

“Mhm, and Hera, his wife, turned Callisto into a bear. Zeus raped her, the Gods were fucked up.”

“The Gods were fucked up, yeah.” he agrees, before knocking his shoulder into yours. “But Ares wasn’t, you know he counts as a pseudo god for feminism.”

“Shame he was brutal in every other aspect.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, “You’re paying more attention to the stars than me.”

Later, much later, you end up on the floor. Laying back against cold wood, you both stare at the domed ceiling. Distorted vision, clouded by alcohol; there’s not much to do around here, and you had incautiously thought a bottle of whiskey would be a good idea— no, actually, you just wanted to see Spencer intoxicated. Beyond messy nights at the bar in D.C, when the team was desperate for a break from work, he’s never really been in this state before.

The area is vast, too big, but you were hardly going to plummet yourself into the middle of nowhere without a few prominent luxuries— you’ve always been devoted to the city, the endless drama, sleepless nights and constant futile noise.

This is… different.

Alcohol has made everything more intense, magnified, in every aspect. The yurt is dark now, the only light coming from the occasional flash of lightning, slicing through the sky and illuminating the area in fragmented beats. The room is cold, but he’s over-warm. Not accustomed to the alcohol, to the buzz it leaves him feeling, the pleasant numbness in his limbs. As if nothing matters.

He’s laying next to you, mid-tangent about space. “Did you know that Jupiter has 95 moons. That’s more moons than the average solar system. And that most of them are named after Greek or Roman mythology. There’s— there’s Ganymede, that’s the largest natural satellite in the solar system. It’s nearly the size of Mars..”

He turns on his side to face you, watching as you mirror his movements, “And, and,” his words fail him, “You are so pretty, — you have amazing, amazing eyes, you know that? And this laugh….” that makes me burn, “You should laugh more. I’m going to make you laugh more.”

He’s staring at you, half-lidded gaze following every line, contour, every feature. He wants to trace his hand along the curve of your cheek, your jaw, down your throat, your shoulder. He wants to touch, to feel you. He can’t tell if you’re aware of his suffering. The torment that comes with being this close to you, yet not able to touch you. How painful it is. To love you.

“Spence..” you mutter, and oh, you’ve never called him that before.

“Mhm, yeah,” he says, bringing himself back to the point; the topic of space. Ignorant to his words. “The planet Jupiter, it’s a gas giant. You knew that, right? It’s got the shortest day of any planet. And on top of all that, it has a redspot! Like, this huge, massive vortex, bigger than the Earth, and it’s just roaming the atmosphere.”

A loud peal of thunder interrupts his speech, followed by the incessant, incessant rain, pounding against the walls. “I love when you listen to me. No one’s ever really listened to me before.”

It’s not fair, not fair that you’re about to plunge yourself into the centre of the storm. That Spencer Reid laying next to you, in the middle of nowhere, would be your fatal flaw. Hamartia. The downfall of the walls you’ve kept resolute for so long. You could blame the alcohol, curse yourself for encouraging this when you’ve both always balanced on a thin, trembling line.

But perhaps it was always inexorable.

You cup his face, running your hand over his pretty profile. Pupils blown out of proportion, so beautiful it scalds. You can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, from pressing a soft, fleeting kiss against his lips.

“I’ll always listen to you.” you promise. Because if no one else has the decency to acknowledge him in full capacity, you will.

And Spencer? Oh, he’s frozen, caught in some location of suspended space. Every thought, every coherent piece of logic in his head has come to an abrupt hilt, silenced by your mere touch.

Your words sink into his skin, seeping into his bones like fire. He’s burning, burning hot and feverous under your hands. The kiss is brief, and he whines involuntarily when you pull away. “Don’t stop. Please— not yet.”

You want him, repeats like a mantra. In all universes, in the grand scheme of time, he never considered this alternative.

Suddenly he’s glad he resides in this reality.

So you kiss him again. You’re aware that you’re both a tangled mess on the floor, limbs interwoven, lips pressed against lips. You’re aware that you’re both drunk beyond comprehension, and that you’ve used alcohol to cheat, to skip time, to fast-forward to the good. Because if you were sober right now, you’d be too calculated, too rational to allow this.

And it hurts— kissing him. Because he touches you like he’s never felt anything before, like he’s been impossibly starved for the entirety of his life. Neglected, in so many ways. You’ve never been interested in caring for someone before, but somewhere along the way, he buried his way into your chest, and now, you’re hopeless to the consequences.

Right now, that doesn’t even feel half as terrifying as it truly is.

His hands are everywhere, everywhere they can reach, grasping at anything they can find, trying to bring you closer, closer, to keep the heat burning against his skin. He needs it, needs the feeling of your lips. He’s overwhelmed, overwhelmed as his tongue slides against your own, as his hands press at the curve of your waist, tracing over skin he’s only been dreaming of touching. He feels alive, incandescent with pure bliss.

“I’ve wanted this,” he mumbles against your skin, between breaths. Between the fire. “For so long, so long,” he sighs, pressing his forehead against yours when you both become reacquainted with the concept of oxygen. “Don’t regret this tomorrow, please?”

“I won’t.” you say, drawing his lips back to your own.

And you do stay true to your word.

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Epilogue (—post ‘part I’):

You’re not entirely sure how to approach the situation of sex, considering you’ve just defiled Spencer Reid on various surfaces of his apartment. So, naturally, you untangle yourself from his body, and take him to see some mundane documentary on sealife. Mostly because you know he’ll enjoy it (and you’ll certainly enjoy him leaning over your seat to comment on omitted pieces of information and technical inaccuracies). Then, when it’s over, you muffle his protests on crime as you coerce him into sneaking into another screen.

Now you’re not the most inconspicuous pair, sitting in the back row, practically hidden by shadows. He has one arm wrapped around your shoulder, thumb tracing over the bone there, lost to your proximity, the warmth of your leg, thighs pressed together.

“You are so pretty,” you mutter, transfixed by the sight of him, illuminated by flashing lights. Some excessive slasher playing in the background, discarded.

“Shh,” he sighs, “Be quiet, there’s— you’re distracting me.”

You’re difficult, you know; your head is leant against his shoulder, lips dragging along his jaw, then his neck, just under his ear. He can’t focus on the screen, the movie barely registers, not when all he can feel is you, your lips against skin, leaving remnants of heat wherever they touch.

You’re aware that you’re a few meticulous touches away from giving him a heart attack, albeit it’s not like you have any interest in stifling your attraction. Not when he’s sitting right next to you.

“What was that? Oh? You want me to be quiet. Maybe you should do something about it then, because personally I have no interest in—“

His lips are quick to silence you. Ruinous, you kiss like you talk, with a sense of assertiveness, all encompassing and dizzying. He’s leaning forward to deepen the contact, to chase chase chase your mouth with little regard for etiquette.

“It’s—“ he mutters, stumbling into his apartment when you predictably get kicked out of the cinema. “All your—“ his hands are tangled deep in your hair as he silences your protests with his lips. “Fault.”

He’s lovesick, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip to stifle the contact. He feels light, like everything will be okay, all of the ache will dismantle, disintegrate if he keeps kissing you. But comfortability breeds defiance, so when you try to close the distance again, he’s laughing breathlessly.

“There’s paperwork we need to do—“ he says, and you blink. “It’s stacking up, and uh.. it’s very very important.”

You both stare at each other for a moment. Then, he’s grinning, leaning forward to press an apologetic kiss against your lips. “Sorry, sorry. Had to.”

“You’re a dick.” you confirm, hands slipping beneath his sweater to trace warm flesh. His reaction is scarring, body clattering back against the wall, torso arched forward as every part of him follows your touch mindlessly. He’s not sure if he’ll ever grow tolerant to you, or if it will forever feel this devastating— his swollen lips are parted and a soft oh escapes.

“But a pretty one, so maybe it cancels itself out.” you laugh, adorning his neck in soft kisses that trail, growing sharper, more biting as they begin to puncture skin, leaving behind mauve blemishes. The process is delirious, and you’re coaxing the most destroyed, whiney noises from him now.

Spencer sighs, “I don’t think that’s how it works—“ his sentence is destroyed by a whimper, something pained, when you run your tongue along a forming mark, when you deepen the burn. “I’m uh— yeah.”

You laugh at his mindless sentence, “I thought we needed to do paperwork, hm?”

“What’s paperwork?” Spencer responds, gripping your hips, guiding you back, back, back until you both meet his couch. “I’ve never heard of that— stop making things up.”

“Are you going to behave?” you ask, straddling his hips, pressing against his clothed dick, working in slow movements to intensify the stifled stimulation between you.

“No.” he answers simply, plainly. As if the answer is self-evident. Which, considering the state of him, debauched beyond reason is. His needs are conspicuous, from the scattered bruising that lines his neck to the indecent noises spilling from his throat. He grips your hips, whines when you refuse to push harder against him.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you can reduce him to this state, diminished to nothing but want the moment your touching becomes calculated.

And god, he wants— he wants to trace every part of you. The shape of your collarbone, the dip of your throat. He wants to mark himself on every part of you. The curve of your wrist, the inside of your hip. Every part available. He feels like an open wound, vulnerable in ways he never anticipated he could be, desperate for you to thread the skin back together, to ease him from this repetitive cycle of desperation.

“Going to punish me?” he teases, watching the myriad of emotions that cross your features. The way you’re so intently focused on him, on his skin, the need he emanates. Fuck— he loves it, he loves how he’s the object of your attention, every thought, every sense devoted to him. No one else, just him.

He knows he’s begging, that he’s all but pleading with you to fix him, to make him whole again, because for some reason, he can’t remember what he was like before you.

“Maybe,” you answer, moving off his lap to destroy the friction, and he wants to protest, but before he can even cohesively think of words, he’s clattering off the couch to sink to his knees.

He’s looking at you now with this distinctive gaze, big, innocent eyes, pupils dilated beyond necessary reason, and you’re disorientated, undone just by the sight of him. It’s fervent, this thing that burns between you, and neither of you are sure when you got so tangled in each others orbit, but you’re not complaining, not when you’ve got him sitting pretty on his knees for you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you state, drawing your hand across his jaw, tilting his head up so he can meet your gaze entirely. You let out an exasperated breath of air, “Don’t look at me like you’re innocent here,”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” he says, and of course he’s playing naive, utilising his lack of experience in this moment, exploiting it to spite you.

Your palm meets his cheek, and he’s gone, just staring up at you, too distracted to formulate a coherent response. He never considered himself to be a particularly ‘dirty’ person until you kissed him, and then he crumbled, evanescence of logic, sanity.

He pushes his thighs together, moaning whorishly at the friction.

And oh, that has you gripping his hair hard, earning an assortment of obscene sounds. With your thighs parted, you hike your skirt up further, allowing him to slot himself in place. He’s quick, needy with his actions, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, trailing them up up up until he meets your panties. Wet, soaked through, a prominent indication that you’re feeling this as much as he is.

He drags them down your legs with little regard, fabric discarded, forgotten about for greater priorities. His tongue, tentative at first, runs along your clit, and you’re responding, hips canting against his face– yeah, suffocate him. He could die very happily right here in this demeaning position.

Tug, he buries his face entirely into you, moaning at the taste, at the sheer concept that he’s being throughly used. It’s messy (in more ways than one), but he knows that it’s good based on your reaction, the way your thighs are wrapped around his head, digging into his shoulder, the way your hand is threaded through his hair, controlling, instructing until he’s just a mindless instrument to your desires.

“Oh— fuck, Spence, that’s it— that’s it. So good, so good f’me.”

“Taste so good, needed this so bad.” he all but whines, pussy-drunk, a little too gone for anyone’s good. He’s straining against his pants, creating damp spots that he really can’t justify, and it hurts. He pushes his thighs harder together, trying to relieve the ache with some pressure, even if he’d love nothing more than to shamelessly grind against your leg right now, to rut in the most indecent way possible. He’s squirming, and don’t come untouched don’t come untouched, focus.

You’re tight, and when the first finger slips inside of you, there’s a visceral reaction from both of you. His hands are deft, slender and long, and with a subtle curve to his movements, he finds that spot before he’s even added a second digit. He would be fairly content with staying here forever, at service to you, watching as you fuck yourself against his face, body bucking and squirming, and yeah– there you go, that’s it. Right there. When you tense, he looks up to meet your debauched gaze, noises spilling from your swollen mouth as you fall apart. Clenching to unclench, perfect.

He’s still dizzy when he comes up, tongue and fingers and mouth and chin all obscenely coated in the aftermath. Oh god, he can’t even stand it, he looks way too satisfied with himself, and he is. He is. He is. He is.

You say how amazing it was (which is sweet, very very sweet) and then you say you’ve used him like a whore. And um. Yeah. Okay. That’s good— great even. He loves being useful!

There’s his bruised knees and then there’s the couch. Stumbling movements, the way he collapses, the way you follow after, shifting to straddle his body.

“Need you. Just you— please. I’ve waited for this, want it so bad.” he mutters.

He’s painfully hard, and he’s been so good, which means he’s prone to acting out now. As you work on staining his neck with remnants of this night, he slips his hand into his pants, and yeah, much better. He could cum just like this, with his palm wrapped around his dick and your lips all over his neck, polluting skin. He should be patient, he knows but he’s so hard and the need is too overwhelming. And oh oh oh. He squirms, releases a pitiful noise that has you reacting, noticing.

After that, his hands get bound behind his back.

He probably deserves that.

He can only watch the depraved actions, the formulated process of you removing his trousers, then his ruined boxers. By the time, he’s bare, undone to your eyes, he’s a disjointed mess. Every time you touch him, the sensory nerves that formulate inside his body burn, agonisingly so, to the point where he can only melt, capitulate to you alone. You, only ever you. He’s fairly certain he was created for you exclusively.

You roll your thumb across his tip, watching as he squirms, grasping your hip, and your free hand, discernibly breaking orders to keep them tethered behind his back. You just lace your fingers together, press a soft kiss against his knuckles, before you return to the simple task of tearing him to pieces.

No. Big. Deal.

“You like that, hm?” you ask, letting out a dissatisfied hum when Spencer only nods, flushed and breathless, debasing little whimpers escaping his mouth with every stroke. “Use your words, — use them or i’ll stop. You don’t want that, do you? Because I don’t think you want that at all.”

“No—no, please, god please don’t stop. I like it— I like it a little too much. Feels, oh.. feels so good.”

Your hand is wrapped entirely around him now, and he can only shift closer, bury his face into the crook of your neck, shelter his gaze from your sight because if he looks at your pretty eyes again, he’ll finish immediately.

God, he’s loud, he’s so loud, a litany of whimpers escaping him with every cataclysmic stroke. It gets to a point where you have to untangle your hands, push your thumb into his mouth, and thankyou, something to do with himself— he just moans around the digit.

“That’s it— taking it so well.”

“I’m trying! Oh, oh… m’trying. Just wanna be good for you— please, please it’s so much.”

He’s so sensitive, too sensitive, it’s good and bad, and it’s a complete onslaught to his deprived body. He’s not sure he’ll ever comprehend how you touch him, the way every movement seems to be perfect in derailing his mind until he’s too blissed out to know anything beyond you.

He’s really trying to form words with your finger in his mouth, but it’s just a mess of saliva and he wants to tell you that he’s a germaphobe, that hands carry so much bacteria, but he’s more than willing to trade germs with you anyway, to offer himself up on a sliver platter, lamb to the slaughter. Sacrifice, he can’t even articulate how much he would renounce for you.

You push your thumb deeper into his mouth, watching as it hits the back of his throat, as he gags around it. There’s blind, unwavering obedience to his actions now, taking it all willingly, passive in a way that counteracts his previous behaviour.

So naturally, you ask if he feels like a slut right now, and yup yup yup. But, as morbid as it may appear, he has no qualms in being your slut, because it’s just you, and the thought that you’re here, that you’re with him, taking care of him in ways he was never convinced he would receive, is intoxicating. Dismantling. Self-destruction, he supposes.

You draw your thumb from his mouth, push it into your own to show him that yeah, sharing germs is not an issue. “Such a good boy for me, Spence. So proud of you.”

“Oh..” now he’s just crying. It’s formidable.

“That’s it— you’re safe. I’ve got you, gonna make a pretty mess for me, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Mhm. Wanna cum so bad, need it— pleasepleaseplease.”

You hum, “Just a little longer for me. You can do it. Be a good boy and hold it.”

“Cant—“

“Spencer.” you say, actively silencing his protests, and he can only nod, following your command mindlessly.

It’s a form of art, he believes, the way you dismantle him piece by piece, the way you destroy his cognitive function, strip him raw until he’s just a tangible mess of everything he was always deprived of. Until it’s just him, just him who you still stare at starry-eyed.

When you finally grant him permission, the bliss has him unable to form anything beyond stuttered oh oh oh’s, his back arching, his nerves ignited, and maybe he’s falling, falling fast because it’s all just a labyrinth of transient pleasure that his body struggles to keep up with.

But afterward, when he’s satiated, you’re still there, and you’re still so painfully warm and real.

There’s something gratifying about the sight of you, taking unprecedented care to clean his skin, to coax him out of his stupor when you’re supposed to be the incarnation of sharpness. It’s a hard concept to grasp, that the blade will never penetrate him, that he’s always going to be your exception.

When you’re tangled in sheets, foreheads pressed together, when it’s just the two of you, and nothing else matters, he does consider luck again. And how so much sacrifice was worthy of enduring, if only for a fleeting second of this.

“I love you,” he mutters, “I have for a long time.”

And you sigh, cup his face, it feels like a solar eclipse, like something astral. “I’m not sure when it happened, but yeah. I love you too, Spence. Love you enough to deal with the insane amount of paperwork HR are going to give us for this shit.”

“Worth it.” he mutters, kisses trailing along your jaw, dipping to meet your neck. “So so worth it.”

[fairestwriting]

Wait a second! I absolutely adore that hcs where the boys helped mc get together with their vice dorm head. Then, what if its the other way around? 👀 may I request the vice dorm head's crush asking to set them up with their dorm heads now? You can exclude Ortho since well...he's a baby lol. Hehehehe. Thank you! Angst we go~

YEAHHH pain time lets go. im reusing the trey/riddle/reader childhood friend love triangle from that post btw because i liked that one so much. this is once again, So fucking long.

+ if you like my writing, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me!

Trey Clover

Trey was the one who introduced you to Riddle, all those years ago, when you were all just brats running around in the Country of Roses. Since then, the three of you had been pretty much inseparable.

Unlike Riddle, who was more on the reserved side when it came to affection, Trey was rather open with it. People just knew you were close, you spent most of your time off classes together, occasionally joined by Riddle. You all meant so much to each other, it felt like you'd just be together forever, just like this.

But things start to change when you find yourself wanting to be closer to Riddle. You saw him often, but it never felt like it was enough, he wouldn't leave your mind... you were starting to develop serious feelings for him, yet you didn't know what to do about it.

Riddle had become Heartslabyul's dorm leader recently, and he was taking his duties seriously, as seriously as he took everything else. He'd have less and less time for you and Trey, you didn't know how you could get your feelings through to him, who always had his head on his work. It just felt hopeless.

You couldn't handle all the pining anymore, so you decide to ask Trey for help. How could you communicate your feelings to Riddle when he felt so distant? You feel like the only person who could possibly know what to do would be Trey.

You come to him when he's baking by himself, lingering around the kitchen as you beat around the bush for a bit, but eventually spit out that you were in love with Riddle, and didn't know how to confess to him when things were like this. Trey stops his work for a second, surprised once he hears you had fallen for him... but then he looks at you with a smile in his face, and promises to help.

Of course, helping doesn't come without some teasing, but Trey does sincerely want to assist you. He'll ask you questions to understand the situation as well as he could, finding out how you two had been getting along lately.

So you spill all your worries to him, about how Riddle had barely been talking to you recently, how you were worried he’d reject you and it’d ruin your group’s chemistry. Trey takes in your words with an attentive stare, it somehow feels sour to hear them, like an unwanted change. Had he believed the three of you would have the same sort of relationship forever? That seemed so childish, but now that he had to think about this...

When you’re done venting, Trey ruffles your hair and declares you should bake him a tart, with his help of course -- Which is met with confusion, but as he begins getting the ingredients out, he explains how catching Riddle’s attention with something that would get the stress out of him would be a good way to start your confession.

You’re a bit overwhelmed by the idea of doing this now and today, but you go along with him. While you two are making the dessert, you go over what you should tell him. Trey guesses that Riddle’s distance did come from him not doing well lately, and he reassures that you three would still be friends no matter what, even if you got rejected. You were all mature enough to accept things as they are, weren’t you? You shouldn’t let your bond be shaken by something like this.

When you’re done, you have a tart in your arms and a plan in your head, feeling calm. Trey really did know how to help people, he’s such a good friend -- You make sure to tell him that as you hug him tight. Just a couple hours ago you had no idea what to do, now you knew the exact words to use when confessing your feelings to Riddle. You really did owe him one.

Trey just laughs it off as he hugs you back, wishing you good luck and saying he’ll be there for you no matter what. You pick the tart up and turn on your heel to leave, and his smile just dies immediately.

He feels like he’s missed an opportunity he never even really considered, but one might suppose you don’t know what you’ve lost until you’ve had it taken away -- Still, it’s you and Riddle, he can’t go against you. He just hopes you two are happy if you get together.

Jade Leech

Jade knows all of Azul’s friends, and you were no exception. Whether it was because Azul ordered him to keep an eye on you or because he was just curious, even though you didn’t talk much by yourselves, he did know who you were.

Being very observant, Jade’s already caught on to the fact that you liked Azul. It was funny watching you two dance around each other, he might have placed a bet with Floyd on when you’d get together -- But he definitely didn’t expect for you to come to him to ask for help on setting you two up.

That sparks Jade’s interest. You’d think he was suspicious, with how quickly he’s willing to help you, but the proposal just amuses him too much to deny it. He likes putting plans together, he’d been interested in your relationship with Azul, what more could he ask for?

You might not trust him that much initially, even if you came to him for help. It’s easy to be suspicious of Jade, after all, no one can tell what he’s thinking behind that poker faced smile after all. But he assures you that he had nothing to win if he messed up your relationship with Azul, and setting you two up seemed amusing, so he’d do it.

And so, Jade becomes your very own Azul teacher. Jade knows him as well as the palm of his hand, so he’ll explain some of his manneirisms to you, tell you about things he likes that he hides from the public, help you plot dates. He thinks it's cute how excited you get when you feel like you've gotten a new piece to your puzzle.

Early on, he doesn't see you as much more than someone to toy with, honestly. But your reactions are more interesting to watch than anyone else, you have this sparkle to you that sets you apart from other people. And he supposes that's the sort of person who would be good for Azul, yet...

He knows he's getting attached when it feels like the game grows stale. Soon, seeing Azul's rare flustered expressions and your determination paired together as you spent time with each other wasn't fun anymore. He was still helping, but even as he picked your outfit for this date, he can't help but feel jealous. He wants this to be for him.

Jade isn't nice enough that he'll play along until you feel like you've gotten close enough to Azul. No, whether they worked together or not, he wanted you to be his, he's more angry than anguished -- Painfully jealous.

One day, he simply declares that he won't be helping you anymore, cutting your long scheme short. You're shocked, asking why, and Jade tells you that from now on, you'd both be planning your own separate games. You could still try to win Azul's affections, but that would go on as he tried to win yours.

Rook Hunt

Everyone who knew about your crush on Vil had been telling you, he’s way out of everyone’s league, he probably gets thousands of confessions a day, he’s so popular and above this lowly world, one can’t just come up to him and ask him out.

Yet your feelings just don’t go away. You know it’s not some celebrity worship thing, that wasn’t why you got close to him -- Since you noticed how off he seemed to be during the VDC, you had wanted to know the real Vil, and from being a manager to the NRC performance, you two did end up close, and your curiosity was quickly turning into something else, as you caught more glimpses of his off-camera self...

But it all still felt so hopeless. As much as you didn’t want to believe others, you knew what they said held some truth to it, you couldn’t just walk up to Vil and confess your feelings, that wouldn’t work with someone who’s experienced that countless times. You needed to do something special, and you needed to get close to him properly.

You had spent some time thinking about this already, and came to the conclusion you just couldn’t do it alone, you needed help to go near Vil’s heart -- And what better helper than the one who seemed to be his best henchman, Rook Hunt himself? You weren’t all that close to him, but he seemed well intentioned enough, so he’d hopefully at least give you some tips...

You approach Rook at Pomefiore, embarrassed you were doing something like this, but you swallow down all your pride. When you tell him you have a problem you needed his help to solve, he’s already all ears, but when you tell him that it’s about you falling in love with Vil and not knowing what to do about it, it’s like something sparks inside of him.

There’s nothing more beautiful than love, Rook is immediately willing to help you win Vil’s heart. He’s dealt with Vil’s admirers before, but never like this, they just blurted out their feelings to him and didn’t seem capable of playing a longer game -- You, though, were different, and that told him you might just be the one for his oh-so-cold queen.

He’ll ask you about what you had in mind for the confession, what you knew about Vil already, all while taking you out for a walk near the dorm building. You two have a long conversation about Vil, and Rook doesn’t want you to spare a single detail about your feelings, he wants to know precisely and vividly why you’d fallen for him.

You two meet a couple times to talk about him. Rook tells you all the things he knows about Vil, so numerous you feel a little jealous, which he notices. He can’t get enough of all the expressions your emotions cause, you begin to look so radiant for him. A dedicated protagonist, working hard towards achieving the love of someone who seemed so far away from them... it just feels poetic, the thought of you shows up more and more often in his head.

Even though he’s teaching you the ways of a specific type of beauty, he learns that the one you have is even brighter than it. The one thing more beautiful than love is your yearning, it seems, your dedication and determination, the pure dreams you had of just making Vil happy. 

The two of you plot an elaborate confession, he’d make sure you’d have a table in the Pomefiore building’s garden just to yourselves, so you could have tea together as the sun sets. You’re counting the days until your date excitedly, confident that you’ll get your feelings through to Vil, and Rook realizes he’ll have to let you go soon.

Oh, he does not want that -- Even if the thought of you in love with Vil was so stunning, the light of it felt like it blinded him. He thinks of all your expressions of affection towards the queen, and he wishes these were towards him, but he knows he has to accept his fate.

When he’s dropping you off at the date location, he kisses your hand and wishes you luck, telling you he’s so happy for you, though he admits that, as shameful as that was, he wishes nothing more than to be Vil right now. Your eyes go wide at the confession, you’re about to apologize, but Rook dismisses it, saying that he really is happy for you, and hopes you’re happy, too. It’s all genuine, just like your wish to win Vil’s affections that made you come to him.

Lilia Vanrouge

You two don't really know each other, at first. Even though you'd been meeting up with Malleus near Ramshackle often for a couple months now, you didn't really have other friends in the Diasomnia dorm -- You didn't tell Malleus about it, but you did find them intimidating.

You were catching some serious feelings for Malleus, though, and he seemed completely blind to every hint you dropped, intentional and unintentional, and desperate times requer desperate measures. You go over all Diasomnia members you knew, and Lilia seems like the most approachable one. You swallow down your unease, and tell him you needed to talk about something.

Lilia, being the decently welcoming person, agrees to meet you away from prying eyes, where you admit that you had been crushing on Malleus for months now, but had no idea what to do about it because he seemed completely immune to any of your hints and flirting. Lilia listens to you attentively, up until the point where you say that you wanted his help on asking him out properly.

He’s honestly surprised at your actions. There’s a sincerity and boldness to them he rarely sees on anyone else, it leaves an impression in his mind. Plus, the idea of Malleus finally being with someone makes him happy, look at him, he grew up so fast! Yeah, he’s definitely up for helping you.

You two talk it out for a while, he asks about what you had been doing to try to catch Malleus’ attention. You explain all the implications you’d been slipping into your speech, all the compliments and the casual touching that made your heart explode everytime you engaged in, but you still did it because you wanted Malleus to know that hey, you liked him. When you’re done spilling your woes, Lilia chuckles, and asks you if you wanted to try doing this in a way he’d understand better.

You don’t know what he means at first, but before you can ask it, Lilia tells you he’d teach you how dragon fae court each other, that would surely get the message through to Malleus! Your eyes go wide at the suggestion, and you immediately agree to it. That’s a plan that wouldn’t fail, right?

And Lilia is nothing if not a good teacher. He takes you to the library to skim books, making sure you have some of the basics about fae culture down before getting to the real stuff. You turn out to be one of his best students, too, you two end up becoming quite the undefeatable pair -- And you become friends, too, your studying sessions are peppered with small conversations about unrelated things.

Lilia just gets fascinated with you. He finds you so interesting to be around, with your willingness to learn and diligence, but he really grows to love the idealistic, sort of hopeless romantic side of you, who was so in love with Malleus and willing to put all this work to make everything go well with him. You just seem so pure, not as in naive, but as in kind and genuine. People like that are surprisingly rare.

When you get to the gift giving portion, the most important one, you’re learning faster than ever, the excitement in your eyes never leaving. Lilia is happy and proud of you -- But when he starts seeing you wear Malleus’ jewelry gifts around, even though he instructed you to do so, he finds himself not liking to stare at it.

He knows himself enough to know what this means, and, really, how stupidly ironic it was. Lilia really did get attached to you while trying to set you up with someone else, this didn’t even feel like something that should happen in real life. It stings, but he goes on with his mission, he wouldn’t just leave things as they were.

Your confession would involve gifting him a gem Lilia got you, one meant specifically for love confessions like these, as he instructed. Your eyes glitter when he puts it in your hands, telling you that now you were ready to actually ask Malleus out -- And with how things looked like, it seemed he was trying to get his feeling through to you too. He’s sure you won’t be rejected, and makes sure you know that.

You thank Lilia, saying you wouldn’t forget how helpful he’d been to you. Lilia smiles and says you don’t have to thank him -- Just make sure Malleus and you are a happy couple, even if he hates to look at it. 

You don’t understand what he means with this, but when you’re about to ask, he disappears into thin air, leaving nothing but a glittering trail behind. He never mentions what he’d said again, even when you stay friends after the confession.

[batattta]

destiel fic recs nobody asked for

I’ve read a lot of fanfiction since november and I needed to express it somehow. so. here goes a HUGE rec list. 

no order at all, huh. canonverse, if not said otherwise. bold for my favorites.

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

part 1/?

first and second date (9k and 13k, t/e) very healthy s15 deancas relationship, dean goes to therapy (as he should), must-read

he bids good-bye to distance (3k, e) purgatory smut, you know the drill 

understanding your body in ten easy steps (13k, e) i love this dean so much, a little bit insecure and so vulnerable and caring! such a sweet fic!

the mirror (25k, m) this one actually made me sob; dean travels though alternate realities and meets...a lot of other deans and castiels

where the weeds take root (30k, e) this one is in my top-5, i guess. please, just GO READ. they live in the country, built a chicken coop, smoke weed and figure out their relationship. all of my favorite headcanons in one fic. and with gorgeous illustrations!! 

a turn of the earth (95k, m) heartbreaking, but with a happy ending. timetravel, cas meets pre-series dean. 

an idiot's guide to a successful love confession in two words or less (4k, e) okay. dean confesses to cas using thee mixtape. what more should i say? 

crazy diamonds (25k, e) dean from 2008 swaps places with dean from 2018. so cute, so sweet, but SO SAD. but good sad. not hopeless sad. don’t wanna spoil anything, but i was sitting in silence after finishing this one, like, for half an hour. 

a room of one’s one (95k, e) a classic one. ALL THE KINKS!! just a little bit of angst, but mostly very sweet. wing!kink 

the first five times (43k, e, mcd) oh. this one. endverse. very dark and depressing. but you know, they love each other. so much. and it describes my favorite concert about endverse. i cried like a baby. yeah. this kind of sad. 

you can keep holding on (352k, e) i love this one so, so much. i adore this cas and this dean. they are precious. there is one thing that author preferred not to include in tags (and i get why), but at the time it was. um. hard. still was worth it tho. but be careful. pretty heavy themes in this one. but such a HAPPY ENDING! ah. 

dean (and cas') top 13 zepp traxx (82k, e) post-canon, road trip, led zeppelin, love love love

tall grass (58k, e) cas grows a garden!!!!!! found family on maximum! sex scene like WOAH. hot. last few paragraphs are such a beautiful prose. i keep coming back and rereading them. 

build a home (20k, t) another post-canon found family fic. yeah. i have a soft spot for them.

that’s me in the corner (9k, e) “heaven can't wait” fic. i love all this fanfiction gap stories. this on is so *chefs kiss*. 

welcome to pine shores! (21k, e) and another post-canon story! can’t stop won't stop. they are old and own a motel. and still are dancing around each other. huh. they’re such idiots *fondly*

every story has to start somewhere (27k, e) i must confess. i have a soft spot for dean in denial trope. and this one is all about dean trying not to be gay. spoiler: he fails. lol. 

sunshine (8k, g) usually straight dean is ooc for me, you know. but this one is a good exception. it’s just so sweet and tender and all about their profound bond. yep. 

enough (1k, t) as grey ace person myself, ace cas is so very important for me. 

the mantra (3k, g) PLEASE READ IT. post 12.12. i reread it regularly. so tender. oh my god. i have no words. just. go read.

scratchmarks (12k, e) one of this smut fics, where smut is not about smut at all. this is 2009!dean/cas/2014!dean. sad, but so beautiful.

may i? (12k, e) post s15 purgatory fic. how it should have been. 

profoundly bonded (by law) (20k, e) firstly: sobsicles is currently one of my favorite destiel authors. so. cas asks dean to marry him. dean have no reason to decline. such a sweet domestic fic. dean is so dumb (we all know that).

the sum of my regrets (20k, m) dean goes to the past and meets cas’ female vessel. nothing happens between them back there, if you're worried. but dean does come to the realization.

the girlfriend experience (15k, e). another classic one. no words needed.

twenty dollars (15k, e) cas-centric, post gas-n-sip. he tries to survive and has no other choice but to turn tricks. poor baby. i wanted to hug him so bad while reading this. 

until the lost become the found (35k, e) such a unique story! i’ve never knew that i needed it so much until this fic. dean. cas. and endverse!cas. yep. you got it right. the ending!! the sex scene (omg)!! perfect characterization of endverse!cas. and you know, he deserves a lot of love. all the love. it may be not everyone’s cup of tea, but please, give this fic a chance. 

[spencers-renaissance]

Mayhem

Summary: Imagine that scene in S4E1 when Derek is driving the ambulance loaded with a bomb about to explode, except it's Spencer on the other end of the phone and they finally get their shit together. 

Tags: canon divergence, spencer is the tech analyst, death-bed love confessions, getting together, mutual pining, insecure spencer, angst with a happy ending, fluff

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

A Gift For: @habs252117 — anybody can request fics in my ask box :)

A quick recap as this follows S4E1 which is technically a follow-on from the last ep of S3:

The BAU was called to the NY field office to investigate a series of random shootings in the city, often on subways and shit. They realise that this is actually a terror cell practicing for their big attack, and as this fic starts, they believe that the shootings were all in locations they planned to bomb in order to test 911 response times. Kate Joyner is Hotch's old friend, the blonde English one from Scotland Yard and Lisa is Lisa Bartleby, the NY field office tech analyst assigned to help Penelope in the show, Spencer in the fic.

The case had been stressful enough from the beginning. Spencer doesn’t often get to join the team in the field, usually staying in his computer den back in Quantico, so he’d initially been quite excited: he’d get to spend more time with Derek, plus visit New York, which he’s always had a strange sort of affinity for, as well as see his team in action. But then he’s working with equipment that isn’t his and they slowly piece together just how complicated this terrorism ring is and things seem more… bleak rather than exciting. 

They’d all been starting to make their way back to the hotel when the news of the bombing hit the networks, and Spencer’s heart is in his mouth as he rushes back to his post, meeting Lisa Bartleby with harried nods of acknowledgement. Almost as soon as he’s settled at his desk the phone starts ringing.

“Spencer,” Rossi greets as soon as he picks up, “you’ve seen the news?”

“Yes, I— do you know where anyone is? What should I do?” he asks, feeling the panic settle on his chest, his stomach clenching in fear he doesn’t dare try and address.

“I’m here with Penelope, she’ll handle the media,” Rossi says, and Spencer realises that he can hear her low, steady voice she always employs in moments of extreme stress in the background of the call. “I need you to call homeland security and direct them to every site of the recent shootings. Tell them to pour troops in. If our profile is right we’re looking at eight suicide bombers who are about to hit every one of those locations.”

“Actually, if we’re correct, there’ll be sixteen suicide bombers,” Spencer realises with a start. “We predicted they’ll hit the second wave of first responders, too.”

Their conversation is interrupted by the news reporting that the bomb was inside a black SUV near the Federal Plaza and Spencer is pretty sure his entire body stops for a moment: cells stop replicating, blood stops flowing, hair and nails stop growing. This is his family. And he doesn’t know where any of them are, spread across an unfamiliar, dangerous city.

“Right, Spencer, do you have eyes on the Plaza?” Rossi asks, controlled urgency colouring his voice as he tries to keep himself and everyone else as calm as possible.

“Uh— yes, I’ve got like three hundred cameras there,” he says, glancing at Lisa, the NY field office’s contribution to his technological complex, as they jump into action, “give me a minute.”

“I’m here with Penelope, but I don’t know where anyone else is,” Rossi says, and for the first time Spencer can hear the panic rising in his voice. It’s quickly suppressed, but it’s there, and it does nothing to help him calm down. “Find them.”

He instructs Lisa to find every camera feed 20 blocks out concentrically from 26 Federal Plaza before fiddling with his headset, taking a deep breath, and, naturally, trying Derek first. His name has been circling round Spencer’s head like a prayer ever since they heard that it was potentially one of their own hit by the bomb, and the knot in his chest starts to unravel when he picks up the phone.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” Derek says, sounding impatient and stressed, but Spencer doesn’t mind. He’s alive. He’s okay. 

“Thank God,” Spencer breathes. He keeps him on the line while he tries Emily, who sounds just as anxious when she picks up. He doesn’t mind though, he’s keeping a tally of everyone he knows is safe and it’s the only thing making him any less panicked. When JJ doesn’t pick up, the knot tightens a little and he tries to ignore the little string of ‘no no no’s dancing through his mind. 

He hears Emily’s distressed exhale and closes his eyes for a second before forcing himself to get his head back in the game. The phone goes dead mid-JJ’s voicemail message, and then Emily drops off the call, Derek following, and that’s it. He’s lost contact with his team, JJ and Hotch still unaccounted for. Before he can actually lose his head, Lisa is calling him over, and he finally has eyes on the bombing. 

He has to watch the man he sees as a father projected through the air by the blast from the bomb, and all he can hear for a solid five seconds is the fear buzzing in the static electricity around his ear. 

⭐️

Derek arrives at the site of the explosion riled up in a way he hasn’t been for a long time, his only consolation being that he knows Spencer is safe. God, you can definitely count on working a terrorist attack in New York City to accentuate your crippling crush on a coworker; a subtle burn has settled itself across Derek’s chest, the urge to hold and protect Spencer far too distracting for the circumstances. 

He reports immediately to Captain Warner but before he’s even able to identify himself, he hears Hotch shouting desperately for help and he slips immediately into rescue mode. 

“Hey! This area’s restricted,” an ESU shouts at him, as soon as he dashes for the barrier, and he forces the blinding anger flaring in his stomach to simmer down as he turns to the Captain again. 

“That’s my boss down there,” he shouts, making himself as intimidating as possible. 

“I have my orders,” the Captain replies simply, eyes hard and unrelenting. 

“I don’t give a damn what your orders are.” He’s finding it increasingly hard to restrain his anger as he hears Hotch shout again, turning to look hopelessly down the road at him. 

“Look, I get it agent,” Warner attempts to placate him, “but we’ve been told by you that responders are the targets. So until the blast site is cleared, no-one goes in.”

Derek spins around to face him again. “You’re Marine Corps, right?” By the look on Warner’s face, he’s found his way in. “Right?”

“Please, go back to the marshaling point,” he replies, the fight draining out of him. 

“I’m not doing it,” Derek yells stubbornly, furiously. “I’m not just gonna let my man lay down there like that.” Conveniently, Hotch’s miserable call comes down the road again and Derek meets the Captain’s eyes with a hard gaze. “Never leave a man behind. You do remember that, don’t you?”

“Help us!” Hotch screams again. “We’re here! Please!”

Derek glares at the Captain, and sprints as fast as he can towards Hotch as soon as he nods his okay. His boss is clearly disoriented and in a state of obvious distress but he doesn’t look terribly injured. Kate, on the other hand, is clearly a different story, and any hope Derek has for her survival melts away as Hotch explains her arterial bleed and he has to tell him that they can’t expect an ambulance any time soon. He tries to tell the kid crouching down by Kate to leave, but he seems reluctant. 

Derek doesn’t have the headspace to analyse why until he’s finally got him to run off and Spencer’s ringing him to tell him that he’s the bomber. 

⭐️

As soon as Spencer hears Derek run off after the bomber he feels his stress levels rising again. If Derek dies before Spencer finally works up the courage to tell him that he’s in love with him, he’ll never forgive himself for being such a coward, and he’ll never forgive Derek for leaving him. 

Immediately, he patches into the marshaling point and tells the rest of them, who have only just all reunited, what’s going on. 

“The bomb,” he explains, talking as fast as he can, “it was under Kate’s SUV. Hotch is out there with her, he seems okay but Kate is really hurt; they haven’t been able to move her.”

“Where was her SUV parked?” Rossi asks as they all gather around the computer.

“Two blocks east of Federal Plaza.”

“Two blocks east and they target Kate’s SUV?” He sounds incredulous. “Have you identified the bomber?”

“Lisa’s running him through VICAP,” he says, but shrugs hopelessly. He knows it’s a lost cause.

“Call Homeland Security,” Rossi instructs Penelope. “They should be at all the murder sites. See if they found anything.” She nods and stalks away on her heels, still managing to stay cool under pressure. Spencer would envy her, but he knows it’s only an external front, only a mask she has to wear out of complete and utter necessity.

“Okay, okay, but Morgan,” Spencer says, feeling more impatient and stressed than before, “he’s run after the bomber.”

“He’s run after the bomber?” JJ asks, bewildered. “Why?”

“He was at the bomb site,” he replies. “I’m trying to trace him on the city's CCTV network, but the feeds are grainy at best and completely severed at worst.” This is feeling more and more hopeless by the second, and the light at the end of the tunnel is only dimming. 

“Keep trying,” Rossi says, and then he’s turning to the rest of the team. 

Spencer takes a few calming breaths and focuses back on the computer in front of him. Find Derek, he thinks. Find Derek and, when this case is over, stop being a coward and tell him how hopelessly in love with him you are. The pool of dread and fear weighing his stomach down only seems to deepen as he searches relentlessly through the CCTV feeds he can access, looking for Derek and the bomber chasing through the streets of the city. Eventually, he finds him and follows his movements down to the subway station. He watches with baited breath as Derek looks around the empty platform, clearly shouting to the unsub, though Spencer can’t hear what he’s saying. He speeds up the feed, seeing as it’s delayed slightly and fast forwards to Derek entering the tunnel, his sense of dread only intensifying as he loses visual. 

Trying desperately not to panic, he fast-forwards until he’s watching in real time, but Derek still hasn’t emerged, and neither has the bomber, both still hiding in the secrecy of the depths of the city’s transport network. There’s a vague spark of light — which he later finds out was the bomber electrocuting himself on an exposed part of the railway — only barely visible on the poor quality of the camera feed, before Derek emerges, looking rattled but very much alive. 

He doesn’t have much time to celebrate Derek’s livelihood, however, because JJ and Penelope are patching him back through to their conversation. 

“Spencer, Homeland Security has poured tactical teams into all the locations on the geo-profile — SWAT, bomb techs, HRT, hazmat, the works — they found nothing,” Penelope says, clearly puzzled and frustrated.

JJ’s about to reply when something catches her eye. “Yeah, all except one,” she says. “Kate’s SUV — none of the shootings were near it.”

“Maybe it’s personal,” Penelope muses. “I mean, this death card they gave us; they delivered on it.”

“No,” Spencer jumps in, realising what JJ’s getting at, “that’s just it — they haven’t. A cell as large as this one and multiple targets to choose from, they target a single SUV?”

“It’s a diversion,” JJ says, “Everything that’s happened so far has appeared to be something it’s not. The seemingly random acts of violence, Emily’s suicide by cop to make us believe it’s all over. Hotch and Kate as an endgame; they want us to think this is over. They’ve deliberately skewed our profile to make us believe they would be at the sites of the shooting.”

“You’re right. That was memorable” Rossi says, finally chiming in as he gestures to a picture of the twin towers on the wall. “This is not. There’s something else.”

⭐️

As soon as Derek manages to calm Hotch down, he summons the rest of the team to St Barclay’s and for the first time since the bomb went off under Kate’s SUV, the team is back together again.

“Are you okay?” Emily asks Hotch as soon as the team walks into the hospital. He’s scratched and bruised all over, visibly shaken, and clearly in a lot of pain but, Hotch being Hotch, he’s stubbornly refusing to accept the necessary medical attention and probably just wants to see the back of this whole ordeal, not unlike the rest of them. 

“I’m fine,” he says, clearly not fine at all but shouldering his jacket on anyway. “I just want to understand why I’m still alive. Did you identify Sam, the bomber?”

“Spencer put Sam and the other dead unsub into every known database,” Penelope offers. “Nothing.” At the mention of Spencer, Derek feels his heart clench in his chest. God, Spencer’s intelligence is so attractive to him, even though he knows it’s something his pretty boy can be so unreasonably insecure about it. He can’t wait to see the end of this night and touch him, reassure his aching, restless heart that he’s safe, alive, protected. 

Once again, he thinks cynically, nothing like a terrorist attack to leave him on the brink of finally telling Spencer how he feels. 

They quickly get back on topic, deducing as a team the terror cell’s real endgame: they’ll use a single chemical bomb planted in the ambulance. If Sam wasn’t calling 911 every few minutes but a number that went dead minutes after he died, then there’s only one reason he stayed with Hotch and Kate. To make sure the ambulance got to them. The ambulance they drove into a hospital, with the paramedic’s help, housing someone important enough to have the Secret Service protecting them. 

Derek doesn’t think. He runs. 

“Spencer?” he says, into his ear piece as he runs down the stairs, refusing to let fear come to the surface. “I need you to jam the frequencies in this cell block for as long as possible, okay?”

“What’s going on?” Spencer asks, clearly concerned, but Derek can hear him already tapping away at his computer.

“Just,” Derek pauses, takes a second to feel, process, and then suppress his panic, “just… I need you to do this for me, alright, pretty boy.”

“I’m already on it.” Spencer sounds exactly he does: carefully, artificially calm. He runs down the last few flights of stairs and into the parking garage, locating the ambulance before he hears Spencer again. “Morgan?” 

“Yeah, baby,” he says, panting half from the exertion of sprinting down far too many flights of stairs and partly from the pressure of the situation settling on his chest — the stakes actually registering for the first time. 

“You sound stressed,” Spencer says, deliberate and light. “Where are you?”

“Not where I want to be right now,” Derek replies, a little self-deprecatingly. Really, it’s just deflection; a last ditch attempt at avoidance of the likelihood he dies tonight. “Reid, take this down for me: FDNY 108.”

“That’s an ambulance, are you okay?” His voice is quick and rises ever so slightly in pitch. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just track it for me.” Tentatively, he opens the door to the ambulance, heart sinking and blood pressure rising as soon as he clocks the monumental bomb stowed neatly in the trunk of the seat. “Reid, how long can you keep jamming the cell block?” He knows he’s sounding breathless now and he knows Spencer is probably panicking, unable to know what’s going on but clearly reading enough of the situation to understand that asking would be decidedly unhelpful right now. 

“Uh, maximum of a few minutes, Morgan,” Spencer replies. “Why?”

“I’m going to have to get this ambulance out of here.” This is it. The culmination. 

“Or you could just evacuate the building like everyone else,” Spencer says urgently, sounding outraged at the idea. 

Derek cringes at the disapproval, but he doesn't have a choice. “No, as soon as the airwaves are clear, this thing’s going up.”

“Going up?” Spencer doesn’t bother concealing the outright panic in his voice anymore. “That’s like… in three minutes, that’s when the satellite moves position.”

“Reid, listen to me,” Derek says, climbing into the cab of the ambulance and beginning to fiddle with the wiring. “I need you to find me an area of town I can drive this thing, and you tell everybody, you hear me, everybody that I’m coming.” He finally gets the engine to start and begins to drive out of the garage. “Alright. Talk to me, Reid.” He prays desperately that they get this right, that Spencer helps him, that they manage to subvert this terrorist attack. 

“Okay,” Spencer says, back to his measured, calm tone of voice, and Derek sighs in relief at the sound. “Okay, head north… and floor it. I’ll tell you where to turn.” He’s almost out of the garage when the ‘paramedic’ starts shooting at the back of the ambulance, screaming in rage as Derek manages to escape both van and bomb unscathed. “What was that?”

“It was nothing,” Derek shouts, heart pounding in his ears as he turns the sirens and lights on, stepping on the gas as he heads north, “it was nothing. Just… talk to me. How am I doing, Reid?”

Derek hears Spencer ask Lisa for an update before exhaling hard. “1 minute, 50 seconds,” he replies, despair spilling into his voice. “Why does it always have to be you? Why do you always have to do this?” His stomach clenches at the sound of Spencer on the edge of tears and feels himself tearing up in response, swallowing his grief in lieu of actually replying. “Derek, you don’t have much time. Please be smart about this. Signal’s coming back on line, there’s thirty seconds until full coverage.”

Derek’s never driven so fast, his hands pinching at the steering wheel and every muscle tensed. He tries very hard not to think about the fact that there’s a bomb only a metre behind him, set to explode in less than half a minute.

“Derek, drive to the opening and then get the hell out,” Spencer says, no constraint to his emotion at this point, he’s almost shouting down the phone, very clearly crying, now. 

He swallows. He has no choice; he has to tell him. “Spencer,” he says, nearly choked off by a sob, “there’s something I really want you to know.”

“Save it,” Spencer shouts. “Just get out!”

“No, you know what Reid? If I don’t make it out of this alive, I need you to know that I love you, alright?” he says, finally confessing to the secret he’s been holding close to his chest for so long, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he’s throwing himself out of the ambulance and running as fast as he can away from it, still not outrunning the blast picking him up and tossing him across the field. 

Slowly, getting back to his feet, he turns to face the fire as he catches his breath. He has no idea how he’s still alive. 

Fiddling with his earpiece, he tunes back into Spencer’s line to hear him crying on the other end. “Oh, God, Derek, I love you, too,” he sobs as soon as he hears Derek click back into the call.

“Spencer, I’ll tell you what you are to me,” he says, relief and warmth and love blooming across his chest, driving out the crippling fear and panic previously rooted there, “you’re my God-given solace. Baby, you promise me one thing… whatever happens, don’t you ever stop talking to me.”

Spencer laughs wetly, and it’s the most beautiful sound Derek’s heard so far. “I’m so mad at you, right now,” he says, but his happiness is written across every word, “I’m so angry. But… I love you, too.”

Derek laughs, too, the relief of being both alive and loved by Spencer almost euphoric as he walks away from the still blazing ambulance. He guesses he has a terror cell’s failed attack to thank for his long overdue admittance of his love for Dr Spencer Reid, and the frankly wonderful news that it’s actually reciprocated.

⭐️

Derek and Hotch arrive back at Quantico 12 hours after everyone else, having driven home instead of taking the jet with the others due to Hotch’s rather inconvenient ear trauma. That only gives Spencer more time to panic over seeing him for the first time since their deathbed love confessions; they’d spoken briefly on the phone the morning before Derek and Hotch set off, promising to talk about it in person as soon as he was home, and now he nearly was.

Penelope had made a beeline for Spencer as soon as the others had arrived and taken him out for coffee, despite their mutual exhaustion. She’d deduced the situation based on Spencer’s incredibly cryptic HELP. IT HAPPENED. text message almost immediately after the explosion, having been the only one Spencer had confided in about his feelings for Derek. No matter how much she promised him Derek felt the same, he refused to do anything about it, leaving her to watch her two favourite people pine miserably for one another, and actively choosing to remain in said misery instead of confessing and being happy. 

He now actually felt bad for her. 

“Just tell him what you want,” Penelope says over the top of her latte, croissant crumbs littering the table in between them. “You want to get married and have lots of babies with him.”

“Okay, first of all,” Spencer says, fixing her with a look, “you know that neither of those things are true. And, secondly, it’s not that simple. What if he isn’t looking for a relationship or anything? Why hasn’t he said something before now?”

To her credit, Penelope avoids slamming her head into the table in frustration despite how much he looks like she wants to. “Spencer,” Penelope says, levelling a look right back at him, “Derek thought he was about to die. And in that moment, all he felt like he needed was to be sure that you knew he loves you. How could you possibly be that in love with someone and not crave a relationship with them?”

Spencer finds it hard to argue against that. 

Derek reclines on Spencer’s sofa, comfortably surveying the organised chaos of his living room, while Spencer tries to gather the snacks and drinks as calmly as possible in the kitchen, finding it much harder to assume the seemingly unaffected air Derek pulls off so easily. He walks back to where he’s sitting, and he almost drops his only slightly wobbly tray at the blinding smile Derek sends his way. 

“Oh, pretty boy, you’re spoiling me,” he teases, sitting upright and leaning forward to survey the snacks Spencer had rushed out and bought earlier that afternoon. Naturally, he blushes immediately at the compliment and sits next to him on the sofa, grabbing a drink for something to do with his hands. 

“Well, if all it takes is some cheese puffs from Walmart to make you happy then I think this is going to be alright,” Spencer says, trying for cool, calm, and collected and hitting somewhere near nervous and frenzied instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Derek scoffs as he breaks off a piece of chocolate and takes a bite. “I’m here for you, not the refreshments, luxurious as they might be. I don’t remember confessing my love to snack food in the moment I thought I was going to die.” He ruffles Spencer’s hair as his face heats up even more, smiling bashfully over at him. 

“No,” Spencer agrees, feeling all warm inside, “you told me.”

Derek looks serious all of a sudden. “I did,” he nods, leaning forward to put the chocolate down on the tray so he can focus all his attention on Spencer, taking his hands in his own, “and I meant it. I’ve probably been in love with you since you joined the team, Spencer, but I realised it properly last year, and I was always too scared to say anything. I’m sorry it had to be in that moment, and I’m even more sorry that if I’d died you would have had to live with that for the rest of your life.” He pauses and looks down at his lap for a moment. “That was unforgivable.”

Spencer smiles at him, gripping Derek’s fingers a little tighter. “I’m not mad about any of that, Derek,” he says, “I’m just glad it finally happened. And so is Penelope, apparently. She’s been telling me you loved me back for years but I never believed her; I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

Derek chuckles fondly at that and brings his hand to Spencer’s cheek, brushing his fingers across the warm skin for just a moment, but Spencer can’t help but lean into his touch, eyelids fluttering half-closed as they meet in such an intimate manner. “So, pretty boy,” he says, smile warm and eyes bright, “shall we give this a go?”

Spencer looks back up at Derek and takes a second to let the moment he’d daydreamed about for so long sink in, let himself marinate in the love that Derek has for him. “Yes,” he replies. “Please.” And then Derek’s lips are on his own, his hands around his face, and the future’s never looked so bright.

taglist: @strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez @drinkingcroissants

Just a note: a lot of the dialogue was stolen directly from the episode and Derek & Spencer's conversation on the phone is almost an exact transcript; it's from my notes though so it may not be perfect. It also follows the case very closely and none of that is mine. 

[merryfortune]

You give me flowers of love

Written for 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt #39 - Pink

Ship: Nodoka/Hinata

Fandom: Healin’ Good PreCure

Word Count: 3,757

Rating: M

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

AN: title comes from Bloodflowers by The Cure and is recommended listening for this fic.

Tags:  Alternate Universe - Hanahaki, Horror, Gore, Emetophobia/Emetophilia, Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Past/Referenced Eriko/Hinata, Minor Blood

   Hinata was not the type of girl who could handle horror stories, urban legends, or anything spookier than a rom-com set against the background of a popular coffee shop. However, there was something about this creepypasta that caught her attention. Maybe she read it to prove that she wasn’t a scaredy-cat or maybe she read it because something about it was almost too real.

   It came across her Curestagram feed, screenshots reposted from another site with long form text functions rather than the optimized for photos aesthetic of Curestagram. It wasn’t late at night, quite the opposite, Hinata had just been scrolling as she was half nibbling on a banana muffin for morning tea. So she was kind of bored and not already unsettled by a vague anxiety sort of mindset so she stopped her scroll to read this totally true story from a friend of a friend that had happened upon her timeline.

   The story involved a sickness. A lovesickness, hooking Hinata immediately since she was a hopeless romantic and leaving her vulnerable to what was hiding down below a few paragraphs after and Hinata realised she was reading a surreal medical horror story.

   Supposedly, some girl from a high school in the next town over had been hospitalized due to damage to her stomach and esophagus but ultimately culminated in her passing away from brain damage due to suffocation. The suffocation that was the outcome of the damage she had taken to her stomach and esophagus had, supposedly, been caused by the growing of flowers inside of her. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They were baffled by the impossibility of it. Yet where they failed to posit theories at all, their patient had her own she desperately desired to reveal. 

   The nameless girl, as weak as she was in her final moments of speech and cognition, was certain with the most crystal clear clarity that she could muster said that reason for the flowers growing inside of her was due to a crush that she had been fostering for quite some time. A crush that was so powerful and deep that it had manifested as literal and impossible distress in the form of tiger lily flowers. Though her claims were dismissed as nonsense, despite the very given evidence that she had been vomiting exotic flowers, except by the narrator who was sharing her story online on her behalf.

   Hinata got to the bottom line of the final screenshot and she dropped her phone on the table. She shivered and flinched as her phone clattered. Nyatoran looked up, alarmed, from the milk that he had been sipping.

   “Heh? Are you okay Hinata?” he asked.

   “Y-Yeah, I just lost my grip.” Hinata replied. It wasn’t a lie.

   “Really? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Nyatoran pointed out.

   Hinata made an expression that was both guilty and embarrassed, “Er, sort of… I read a ghost story online and I haven’t the stomach for them.”

   “Oh, well, no worries then. I’ll keep ya safe from all the ghoulies then.” Nyatoran boasted.

   Hinata laughed, “Thanks, Nyatoran.” she replied.

   And that was more or less enough to keep her mind off what she had read for the rest of the day as she did her Sunday homework and such. At least until well after lights out. 

   Hinata cursed herself. She knew endless walls of text in screenshots never bore good news but it was under her skin now. It wasn’t even that scary, she tried to convince herself. It just so happened to play off something she had been thinking about in ways that cut deep and yes, even scary. 

   Hinata had a crush of her own. One she didn’t think she ought to act on. Or didn’t know how to act on. 

   Hinata had a crush on Nodoka. She was sweet and gentle yet so motivated. Hinata felt like she learned something new about either herself or Nodoka after every time they hung out. Things never felt old between them despite how natural their companionship was between them.

   Catching feelings for Nodoka was inevitable, Hinata felt regarding their dynamic as close friends and their friendship was relatively intense due to their bond as comrades being Pretty Cures but that made Hinata sick to her stomach with fear. This wasn’t her first crush that she had on another girl. 

   In the not so recent past, Hinata had been wrong reading other girls’ opinions and feelings regarding her before. She and Eriko had been so close, childhood friends with a pact that seemed fit to stand the test of time when they had made it, and Hinata didn’t think it was a coincidence that already scarce contact between them after Eriko moved was when Hinata had confessed her feelings to Eriko. 

   The rejection had been crushing and Hinata had never told a soul about it. The wound was older now but it still hurt so, as lovely as Nodoka was, Hinata didn’t want to gamble their friendship due to that prior rejection. Yet her feelings crackled like electricity near a lightning rod whenever she was around Nodoka anyway. She could only hope that Nodoka was oblivious since she was so inexperienced socially due to her childhood spent mostly in the hospital.

    (And that Chiyu never brought up the blatantly obvious which she would hopefully never do since she knew there was a place and a time and it wasn’t her place).

   Thus, for all these different and entangling reasons, that horror story Hinata had read this morning really resonated. The thought of her unrequited feelings becoming literal, even in the form of pretty and seemingly harmless flowers, and suffocating. It was a very real fear to Hinata despite that fantastical execution that it was captured inside.

   All because she was a magical girl infused with the power of light and thunder. She fought villains who caused infections in nature and created monsters. To her, it didn’t seem too far outside of her sphere of tried and true reality that such a floral disease of the body could exist. Heck, maybe it did exist and was tied to the war that she and her friends were fighting in secret on behalf of the Healing Animals. It was entirely possible this flower vomit disease was another agent or power of the Byougens. 

   Hinata groaned and the more she scolded herself for thinking about these horrible possibilities, the more she thought about them. She tossed and turned all night, in the dark and under the covers of her doona. She knew Nyatoran would live up to his boasting over morning tea if she asked but he was totally conked out in his little room. Hinata couldn’t bring herself to wake him, to unnecessarily burden him, so she just hid from her fears as best as she could in her blankets.

   The following morning, Hinata was a wreck. She had bags under her eyes and was generally a drag. She hasn’t slept a wink last night but just like she was hiding from the horror story in her head, she decided to hide from the aftermath too. She touched up her eyes with concealer and finished off her make-up with a nice little kiss of lip balm, too. She chose a nice tropical flavour: pineapple with vanilla undertones and wore nude in practice. With that, she was ready for what was no doubt going to be a long, long day of school.

   A prediction that she was very right in having. Just making it to lunch felt like an eternity and a half on low energy. Worst still, despite the precautions that Hinata had taken, both Chiyu and Nodoka had noticed that she wasn’t exactly her bouncy self today. Even with her favourite lunch box in her lap with fried chicken and a fruit drink, too.

   “Are you okay, Hinata?” Nodoka asked and she batted her long eyelashes in concern.

   Hinata knew she couldn’t lie or deflect around Nodoka, at least for the most part, and deflated, “No…” she moaned. “I slept awfully last night.”

   “I expect that it wasn’t due to over studying?” Chiyu asked, sniping. 

   “No, I just. Couldn’t sleep.” Hinata shrugged.

   “Well, be sure to put yourself early to bed tonight then. There’s nothing worse than being tired.” Nodoka said.

   “Will do.” Hinata sighed.

   “Also?” Nodoka prompted her.

   “Yeah?” Hinata glanced at Nodoka was she tried a spoonful of rice from her side dishes.

   “Your lip balm has a very strong smell today, I can smell it from here.” Nodoka laughed.

   “Oh, joy…” Hinata hung her head in misery. She didn’t think it was so pungent in the tube.

   “I didn’t mean that in a mean way.” Nodoka panicked whilst Chiyu had a discrete giggle at Hinata’s misfortune. “I really like it. I think it smells nice. Like cherries. I love the smell of cherries best.”

   “Huh?” Hinata mumbled and she stared straight at Nodoka in confusion.

   Nodoka stared back. Also in confusion. “Is something the matter?”

   “Er, no,” Hinata awkwardly began and she forced herself to laugh and she flapped a hand about too to disguise her weirdness, “I must have been so tired this morning that I though I used one lip balm and instead used another.”

   “That is a little odd…” Chiyu murmured.

   But Nodoka seemed to buy it, she gasped, “Fwow, you must have been really tired this morning to make such a mistake. Promise me to get a good night’s rest tonight then.” Nodoka fussed for her.

   “I promise, I promise.” Hinata replied.

   Just as Hinata spoke, the end of lunch bell rang. She moaned with the utmost misery as she hadn’t finished her lunch even slightly and roused much sympathy from both Nodoka and Chiyu. So, Hinata crammed what she could into her mouth and swallowed before returning with her friends indoors to their classroom.

   She plopped down in her chair and desk, her stomach growling almost immediately. Were it not for the teacher at the front of the classroom, Hinata would have flopped down and keeled over right there and then. She would have killed for a nap. Not even a luxurious nanna nap at this point, she would take a horrid power nap. Anything would have been better than nothing. Instead, the best she could muster was some daydreaming whilst scribbling in her work book so she could at least pretend to be paying attention.

   Her mind strayed to Nodoka. She couldn’t help it. A silly little pining schoolgirl was exactly what she was after all. She doodled Nodoka’s name in her margins, surrounded with love-hearts, paw prints, and even flowers. It was a little bit childish but Hinata was a lot childish so she didn’t mind, she was more or less on cloud nine since Nodoka had shown her care for her over lunch, fussing for her like that.

   It was such a small act but it was more than enough to launch Hinata’s heart in a million miles an hour race. So much so, she began to taste something at the back of her throat. It was a sweet taste accompanied by a fizzy sensation. Hinata liked it and it seemed to get stronger the more she daydreamed about Nodoka. Even though it was the middle of class, Hinata was letting her mind completely run away from the contents of what the teacher was attempting to educate on them.

   Finally, after what felt like a day of self torment because of reading some stupid horror story about puking flowers, Hinata felt free of that gnawing anxiety. But just as she revelled in this, her stomach wretched. She dry gagged with the searing taste of bile at the back of her throat and her hand automatically clamped over her mouth, pen and all. The prior anxiety might have dissipated but a new one had spiked in its place.

   Hinata frowned. Was it because she hadn’t eaten all her lunch that she suddenly felt nauseous? Or was it something else? She begged that it wasn’t her period, she was still quite irregular so this felt off or early to her.

   Then she gagged again. She swallowed it back down. Hard. Whatever she swallowed was thick and sweet. It wasn’t vomit, Hinata had the startling realisation. She tried hard to keep it down but she failed. She vomited into her hand, or at least something similar. The motions were awful, worse than anything else she had ever had to eject from her body orally before.

   Hinata felt sick to the very bottom of her stomach. Her hands shook as she slowly removed the one over her mouth and… and she couldn’t believe her eyes. They widened in shock as she saw the head of a flower in the palm of her hand. It was a cherry blossom, she realised. The pale pink petals were frayed at the edges, burnt by stomach acid and wet with her saliva; the anthers of its centre drooped and dragged, splayed across the petals. Her skin crawled as she marveled at the insane gravity of the situation. She quickly paled.

   And the teacher noticed, “Hiramitsu, are you okay?” he asked from in front of the chalkboard, looking up concerned from the book he was reciting from.

   “I-I, um, I need to go. To the nurse.” Hinata eked out her words with strained difficulty.

   Her stomach flipped and she could feel another one coming up. It slithered up her throat and she hated the slow, dreadful sensation of it, the way it made her mouth taste of bile and cherries in horrible combination. Hinata bolted to her feet, afraid, alarming the whole class. She hid her mouth behind her hand again, holding tight that first flower that she had vomited.

   “I need to go.” Hinata mumbled and she fled.

   The feeling of her classmates' eyes on her felt like broken glass digging. She knew, deep down, they didn’t mean harm but their gazes only served to amplify the terror she felt as she fled. She was fast at first, escaping from the classroom but her stomach lurched and she vomited another flower and then again but two at once this time.

   Hinata stopped in the hallway, she had to rest her shoulder against the wall just to stand as she looked down into the palm of her hand. The flowers were accumulating against her skin, wet and heavy, and accelerating in pace of production. Already she felt another lurch and this one was dire, Hinata didn’t think she would be so lucky to only vomit one or two this next time.

   She had to get to the sick bay. She wasn’t sure what she would do there but anything had to be better than nothing, so she hobbled on in immense pain. By nothing less than a miracle, Hinata managed to get to the nurse’s suite without collapsing. Or with leaving too many flowers in her meagre wake.

   The school nurse panicked almost immediately when she saw Hinata in this state. Hinata sputtered out a thank you whilst she was put to bed. Hinata curled up under the sheets, her stomach lurching and mangled petals dripped out of her mouth. She had to hide her ailment from the nurse. She just had to. She didn��t know how to explain it or anything else pertaining to it but fortunately, the nurse bought her some time by going to use administration’s phone to let her father know that Hinata was in immediate medical distress.

   Hinata held her scrawny belly with one hand and her mouth the other. No matter how hard she tried, these flowers kept dredging up from inside of her and it was worsening. There was distention building inside of her, it was as if she could feel the bushels of cherry blossom flowers forming inside of her and something else too. It was raw and firm and poking up through her like a stick. Hinata moaned in utter agony as she tasted not just sweetness and bile in her mouth, but the cutting, metallic taste of blood too.

   She whimpered as she tried to swallow it down. Attempting so, just made the nicks and cuts to her throat worsen and the petals to clog. Her lungs ached sharply as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes squeezed tight and she begged every deity she could think of for a saviour.

   The door to the sick bay opened again. Hinata murmured to herself and the curtain was pulled aside, “Hinata?” a sweet voice greeted her.

   “Huh?” Hinata slurred.

   She rolled over, still holding herself but even a simple and slow motion like that was enough to rouse her illness violently. Her grimace was deep on her face as she tried to look at Nodoka, even feebly.

   “A-Are you okay, Hinata?” she asked. “I couldn’t sit by and worry when I saw you ill you were, what’s wrong?”

   Hinata opened her mouth. Mostly to reply, but that’s not what happened. She threw up in front of Nodoka and Nodoka couldn’t believe her eyes. Hinata was throwing up bushels upon bushels of flowers. Cherry blossoms. Nodoka blinked. She couldn’t believe the sights - or the smell. The smell was disconcerting with how almost pleasantly fragrant it was, heightening Nodoka’s realisation that this wasn’t Hinata pulling pranks.

   “H-How on Earth did this happen…?” Nodoka asked.

   She was horrified yet found herself unable to resist the impulse. She picked a blossom out of the pile that Hinata had vomited up. It was soft in her hand, even if it was grotesquely wet.

   “I - I don’t-” Hinata tried to speak but she cut herself off when she felt something jut out of her mouth. An entire branch of cherry blossoms began to spike out of her mouth.

   Her eyes began to roll back on themselves as Nodoka watched, in abject and frozen horror, as Hinata contended with this stick inside of her. It emerged slowly from the depths of her throat and made her chest convulse. Her fingers spasmed as she choked around it, flowers blooming along the thin and coarse branch.

   “H-Help me.” Hinata sputtered out.

   Nodoka nodded. She was scared, her heart was pounding, but she was first and foremost a helper of most empathetic ends. She had been on the receiving end of a strange and bizarre illness that had rendered most her childhood for naught. She couldn’t just let Hinata struggle. Suffocate.

   So, she got onto the bed with Hinata. She straddled her so she could best approach the foreign object inside of Hinata. She focused her eyes and was as ready as she could ever be for an amateur operation quite like this one. Nodoka reached out and pinched the end of the branch delicately. It was entirely unsafe, Nodoka knew that, but she began to pull. She peered into Hinata’s pink mouth was clogged with twigs and petals, and tried her best to dislodge what she could.

   Hinata gagged. Tears in her eyes and she plead, silently and afraid, that Nodoka could handle this. Nodoka’s hands shook but she did, in fact, manage. She tried her hardest and she did succeed even if it felt pyrrhic as Hinata screamed out as the last, and thickest, part of the cherry blossom branch was removed. 

   Nodoka flinched hearing the scream, dropping the cherry blossom branch between them. Hinata spat out blood and petals but the cherry blossom branch had been removed. She caressed her neck and it was raw with what it had been through. Her touches did little to soothe or quell her pain, she looked up at Nodoka with pathetic, red rimmed eyes.

   “What was that?” Nodoka asked, her heart quaking. “How could any of this be possibly real?”

   “I - I don’t know.” Hinata mumbled but that was a lie. She choked on her words all the same as she had choked on those cherry blossoms. Her hands squeezed tight. “No. I’m sorry. I do know.”

   “Pardon?” Nodoka quietly exclaimed.

   “There’s a very rare disease,” Hinata began, hasty, “that causes flowers to grow inside of someone suffering with a crush that they just can’t handle.”

   “That’s horrible…” Nodoka murmured.

   It was now or never, Hinata realised. Or she was going to end up exactly like the girl from the story that she had read yesterday. She knew it. She just knew it.

   “Nodoka, it’s you.” Hinata confessed, half a sob in her voice. “I’m crushing on you.”

   Nodoka was stunned by Hinata’s admission. 

   Hinata panted, her face was going bright red whilst her heart pounded like a hammer at her rib cage. She couldn’t believe it. She had done it. But it felt like a weight off, she had to admit, she didn’t realise her crush had been such a burden until right now. She felt herself lighten with the confession, from the very pit of her stomach, upwards and outwards.

   Nodoka averted her gaze and Hinata was reminded once more why a crush was called a crush. That borderline feel good feeling from before popped. Burst. Nodoka played with her hair, fidgeting, and then managed to speak in a very calm and very quiet voice.

   “I have a crush on you, too, Hinata.” Nodoka replied. “I admire so much how you sparkle and shine. It’s very refreshing to be around. I like you too. A lot.”

   Nodoka reached out to Hinata’s hand and held it. She was so warm and she was still trembling but Nodoka’s caress of it did soothe her. Hinata hazarded a smile, like she couldn’t believe her ears, through her scarlet expression. Nodoka leaned in and kissed Hinata.

   Hinata was unable to kiss back, afraid of her own breath but Nodoka didn’t mind. It was pungent with cherry blossoms and wet but she found the kiss sufficiently sweet, kissing Hinata’s soft, balmy lips. They were tinged with pineapple and vanilla beneath that overwhelming sensation of cherry blossoms.

   “Thank you, Nodoka…” Hinata murmured and somehow, she didn’t know or understand how but she wasn’t going to complain, she was cured, prettily, of her affliction. 

   The cherry blossom flowers on the bed or in her gut, disappeared. All with seemingly little aplomb. Even the branch that had to have been removed from her throat, all with a soft, fizzling noise that Hinata could hardly hear over the sound of her pounding heart. She still had the cuts and scrapes, but she was no longer growing flowers inside of her stomach. Hinata was cured and Nodoka was her blessed, angelic cure.

[gummybearzgocrazyagain]

MALEC FIC REC POST, vol.3

vol. 1

vol.2 

Media AU

Society Rules by @Tiger_Tiger_Burning_Bright [it is apparently based on films i’ve never heard of - The Philadelphia Story / High Society - which does not make it any less entertaining. malec are childhood friends, who had a falling out 5 years ago, and now Magnus is back from London to interrupt Lightwood wedding, aka the social event of the season]

Making my way to you by @asharee_arie [woah, what was that??? is the correct answer “a perfect fanfic”?? what a muthafuckin delight, where has this gem been hiding this whole time??? i was on the floor, rolling around and squealing like a newborn piglet. Intended as some kind of Office AU, this piece does not necessarily follow the outline, but who cares, when the story, and characters, and author’s style are all that perf??? i am in luv]

Mistletoe and Margaritas by @nevermetawolf [this is legendary, and i mean, muthafuckin epic - Office AU so authentic you’d feel it in yo old bones... author calls it a crack fic, although it was anything but!!! major must read for those, who’s ever loved office, allllllll the kudos]

Once Upon a Time in the Clouds by @Fatale (femme) [one of my all-time fav authors, every time i come by a piece i have not read yet, is like a huge YAY, what a talent. so this piece is an AU of something called “sky high”, which i have no idea about, but luved it nevertheless, Alec is born to a family of Supers, and is going to school for children with superpowers, but he himself is yet to manifest any.]

Quite Magical by @lorenzobane [Hogwarts AU, and what an adorable thing it was! granted, i’ve never actually read any of HP books, this was such a delight though... alec is bad at potions, and magnus has to tutor him *wink*]

Chef AU

the way to a chef’s heart by @lecrit [okay, the GIANT SMILE one’s face acquires when one finds out there is a new lecrit fic ≧◠‿◠≦ ≧◠‿◠≦ ≧◠‿◠≦ was reading it, and legitimately squealing like a feral piglet all the way through, cause i fucking luv every single word this woman writes, is like a tiny endorphin explosions in my brain. i know am a hopeless fangirl, but i’ll die on this hill. the way she gets malec, and every variation of them in her works just makes me go (❁´◡`❁) every. single. time.]

kids in the kitchen by @perpetual_journey [cuteness personified, malec are both chefs, and magnus is a single father of max and rafe, and go and read ittttttttt, its that soft content we all need in our lives sometimes]

Knives at the Ready by @harrysglasses [restaurant AU, that is supposed to be a malec rendition of Burnt (am guessing it’s a movie...?), and what a sweet treat it was! i liked author’s style, this is the kind of smooth, unproblematic content one would require to take repose from all the heart-clenching longing i’ve been reading lately... delightful piece to ease thy soul]

Single Parent AU

I Knew From the First Time by @KlaineJane [emmm, excuse you, dear author, who gave you the right to use Rafe and Max to get to my heart, and be generally so fucking cute??? Alec is a single dad of both rascals, that has a meeting with the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and Chairman meets new friends]

And Then I Met You by @everydayfandom [malec are single parents of max and rafe respectively, and alec gets called in to school about the accident max was involved in...who doesn’t luv them some gud ol’ sweet piece of kidfic? those are like a soothing baths for your soul, and lightwood-bane kids are incapable of being anything less than extremely adorable in any interpretation, so]

College AU

Don’t say goodnight by @alistoney [this the kinda lighthearted content i am always here for - College AU]

One year and a bottle of whiskey by @CryptidBane [yassssss, yet another version of the College AU, but with malec as both clueless and pining professors, this type of fic i can read endlessly]

All is Fair in Love and War by @LadyOxymoron [aaaaaaaa, what was this adorableness *major heart-eyes* what a piece, mashallah, college professors AU, where magnus is new in town, and malec is engaging in an elaborate prank war, which, undoubtedly, is nothing more than a prolonged foreplay (c), what a gem]

Canon Divergence

oh, i’ve waited for you by @manticoremoons [so, the fic is happening a little bit further in a timeline, than the books or the series, and Alec is around 30, and... married to Lydia. i know, i know, it almost stopped me from proceeding, and boi am i glad it hasn’t completely, cause it is a damn good piece!]

Hey There Demons, It’s Me (Your Dream Boyfriend) by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [how many recs of this author can i make, without being deemed obsessed? cause y’all should go and read every single thing they wrote, stat. this adorableness is outta this world, literally - magnus’ summoning went sideways, and the loft ends up populated with the teenage ghost-demon, who is very clearly enamored with alexander... all kinds of fluff ensue]

Something Else verse by @CryptidBane (Impetus) [maybe it’s my fever talking, but i am such a sucker for memory loss AUs, and SH fandom has the richest canon base for those, yay! this time, it’s an AU verse after 3x10: rather than asking for his magic, Asmodeus curses magnus by taking away memories from everyone who’s ever loved him, in exchange for freeing jace from lilith’s thrall... oh, what a beautiful and delicious angst ensues]

Home by @otppurefuckingmagic [waaaaaaaaat... *sits with her mouth open* how did you....? how did he...? damnnnnnnnnn you authors in this fandom, stop being so talented!!!! this is uncannily brilliant]

I’ll hold on until you’re home by @alistoney [how dare you sir, right in the feels... the missing scene in the midst of 3x18/3x19, when magnus realizes what his idiot of a boyfriend has done, and confronts him about the Asmodeus deal]

First time for everything by @nebulein [“Nowhere in a Shadowhunters’ job description does it read ‘must look adorable while infatuated with the local High Warlock’.” - series of firsts written with such tenderness and adoration for characters, that it warms your heart while reading, - it shows how much the author cares for them. it is not finished, but whatever has already been written, is gold]

Fake dating AU

The Great Repression by @CryptidBane (Impetus) [although it might not be exactly my regular cup of tea, i still appreciate this author’s style so damn much, and the way they do malec dynamic overall, so it’s here. magnus is a camboy, and alec is hired to protect him from a stalker]

Friends to lovers

Family is Family by @hexicity [my brains are fried by the covid, so any coherent rec would be unlikely right about now, but the softness of this <333 alec sees an ad about a free room, and when he moves in, he finds way more, than he bargained for... gave me a bit of a “happy, shiny people everywhere” vibe, and that’s an automatic rec in my books, so]

Spinning Around In Circles by @lemonoclefox [my fav friends to lovers/mutual pining trope, here you are, and what a pretty pretty wrapper are you wearing - absolutely amazing interpretation of a trope, that seems to has been done to death, and yet here i am, never able to get enough of it <3]

If it walks like a duck by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [this. i was reading this. and after every single word. all i wanted to do was get down on one knee and propose to this person. i dunno who the hell you is, but.... how did you do this? it was... another level of fanfiction.]

Neighbors AU

Meow 17:1 Love Thy Neighbor by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn [again, not a fan of drabbles, but who could resist such softness??? Neighbors AU, where Chairman takes some lessons he learnt from “Parent trap” to heart, and alec is a stumbling mess, but he gets shit done, kudossssssss]

Various AU mix

Solid courage by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [how goddamn CUTE was dat???? answer - the cutest. mashallah people in this fandom can write]

Paper Love by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion [it would not be an exaggeration to admit i thoroughly fell in love with this author’s style, i mean, all and every version of their malec is all kinds of awesome. this one is no exception - catarina works in the library, and malec have to take madzie out to a coffee shop, cause their obnoxious flirting is too loud for the quaint environment of catarina’s workplace.... it’s tiny and so so sooooooo sweet]

make no bones by @ohfreckle [yaaaaaaaaay, what a cutie, tiny preciousness about magnus having an awful day and taking it out on a no-good useless building super, simply delightful]

Freud is a Dick by @sanctuary_for_all [Alec works in IT firm, and accidentally sends someone else’s dick pick to his boss, whom he has a crush on... do i need to say more]

shadows in moonlight by @kaeg [damnnnnnn, son, that was a ride!! something exquisitely soulful, tender and so, so poetic... young malec meet in summer vacation home, and it will take your breath away in the best way possible... warning, it is unfinished, but whatever was written, is absolute preciousness]

For the Love of the Game by @TicklemyPickle [Hockey AU, where malec were childhood friends, but had a falling out, and were not in touch for the last 7 years, until magnus gets traded in to alec’s team... i was somewhat unsure about reccing this, as some of the choices author made regarding their dynamic did not exactly resonate with me, but decided to go on, because, god as my witness, one thing this world definitely needs more of - is malec Hockey AUs, word upppp]

Love Is A Gamble by @la-muerta [i myself do not completely understand, why has it taken me so long to get to the “The importance of elsewhere” author’s most famous piece, but i finally have, it was amazeballs, like, the world-building...? off the charts. the language, the moral struggle, what a gem. alec is a grumpy and surely sheriff *duh!!!* of a tiny town, and magnus strolls in being all... well, magnus-y, and opens a gambling house, the potential!!! anyway, i highly doubt this piece needs recs, so imma zip it]

@ohprongs [this author has too many tiny pieces i like to name them individually, but as far as reccing goes, they should def be mentioned here for their effortless, seamless style, and clear love for the characters in all interpretations, that simply shines through all and any AUs they choose to put malec in]

special mention:

@theleftboobgrabber [i wasn’t aware that at this stage it was still possible to come by someone like this. the author, who’s style would impress me so. that unbelievably glorious Mafia AU, absolutely delightful and literally perfect My mama don’t like you series, and something that went straight to my top-5 - MI6 AU ohhhhh, that MI6 AU... i have no coherent words to express the depths of my appreciation, this is unbelievable fucking talent for writing malec]

[xfandomwritingsx]

His Girl – Steve Rogers – Part 1

-gif source-

Description: You’ve always been Bucky’s girl. But Bucky’s not here anymore…

Warnings/Labels: Post Snap. Angst. Self-Hate. Pining. Daddy kink. Slightest briefest illusion to choking kink. No smut yet. A small hint of fluff if you squint.

Approx. Word Count: 7,000

A/N: This took on a mind of its own. I’m sorry. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but as it usually happens with me, I’ve written this part and am just at a standstill. So to boost my motivation, I’m posting what I’ve got. I hope you guys like it. There will be smut in the next part. Just as soon as I write it.

You hate how cliché it is. Really, you do. If you could stop it, you would. If you could stop the ache inside of you yearning for your best friend left in the galaxy and simply go back to the overwhelming sadness, the mourning for your lost boyfriend, you would do it in a heartbeat. Because at least the sadness felt right. It belonged. It was valid. 

The aching flame of desire that’s been building, growing steadily inside of you is not. It’s out of place in this world and it’s just wrong. It feels like betrayal and tastes like bitter poison with the potential to destroy you.  

It’s so damn clichéd to say he’s an addiction, but fuck it if you just can’t bring yourself to leave him behind. You tried once. You stopped answering his calls and his texts. You took a vacation away from everyone, but it felt like a torture just as bad as indulging in what you have to admit is much more than a crush. You’d been back in town less than twenty-four hours before he showed up at your apartment to greet you and just seeing him made you feel light and airy and you knew you were hopeless. So you stopped trying. 

The worst part about all of it? You know he feels the same way about you. For most, knowing the person you want to be with also wants to be with you would be a blessing. Instead, it’s a cruel twist of the knife in the back of the man you love. 

Loved? 

No. Love. Loves. There are some days you need to remind yourself. Bucky is gone, but your love is not, cannot, and will not be gone. Which is why the way Steve’s watching you from across the table sends both a blush to your cheeks and drop kick to your gut.  

He’s different now, hardened over the last three years since the snap. Maybe that’s why it’s only now that you’ve drawn such an attraction to him. He had been too soft for you before, too morally white and good. He’d slipped into the role of supportive friend and colleague so easily that there was no room for anything else. And when you grew close to and eventually fell head over heels for Bucky? Any chance of a spark was stomped out. With that Steve at least. But this one? This Steve opened a new door that you aren’t sure can be shut. This Steve is rough around the edges and takes what he wants. This Steve is watching you instead of the holographic conference call you’re on, propping his elbow on his armrest, two fingers resting on his cheek while he gently bites down on the tip of his ring finger and his pinky plays along his bottom lip, all with an absolutely sinful look in his eyes. 

Old Steve never would have done that. 

You struggle to listen to what everyone else is saying. The meeting is boring to say the least, a bi-weekly check in that didn’t really need to be done but everyone participated in our of habit. It’s just you and Steve physically in the room since Natasha had left earlier in the day to travel to a nearby town that needed aid. You wonder briefly if the rest of your colleagues notice the way he’s looking at you or the way you shift in your seat across the wide spacing circular table, but you don’t really care. You realize you’re biting your lower lip and his eyes are drawn to where your teeth sink in gently.  

Someone calls your name with the tone of having already called it at least twice and you snap your eyes back up to the blue holograms in front of you. Carol is raising a single eyebrow at you and Rhodey is wearing the smallest smirk. You push down the embarrassment and sit further up in your chair, straightening your back and forcing yourself not to look at Steve who you know is chuckling at your lack of composure.  

“Nothing new to report here,” you say after clearing your throat. “Nat’s on her way now to help some cleanup efforts and nothing major has come up recently. Afraid to say it, but things might actually, finally be cooling down.” You chance a look across the table and Steve has his own eyebrow raised in a much less annoyed way than Carol had. His is teasing, suggestive. Things may have been cooling down for the rest of the world, but boy is it getting hot in this room. 

Fucking clichés again. It sounded ridiculous even in your own cloudy head.  

The call ends quickly after that. One by one all of their images dissolve in front of you and you’re left with no one else to look at except Steve. He removes his hand from his face, thank god, and folds them both into his lap as he casually leans back. 

“Plans this afternoon?” he inquires. You mirror his posture, leaning back in your own chair. 

“I should do those reports,” you groan, letting your head flop backwards onto the edge of the chair’s back. You hear him chuckle lightly before he responds in an apologetic way. 

“You know no one reads them anyways.” You snap your head back to squint your eyes at him. 

“You used to be all about paperwork, you know. What happened to organization keeps us going like a well-oiled machine or whatever it was you spewed at us?” you tease. He cracks a smile. 

“Less people makes keeping up with briefings a lot simpler.” There’s a bitter sadness behind the look on bright side undertone to his words and it threatens to ruin the mood. You tilt your head lazily and push past it.  

“Did you have something else in mind?” You don’t really have many plans today. The place could use a cleaning, but that’s not exactly high up on your want-to-do list. He shrugs and locks your eyes. 

“We haven’t sparred together for a while.” The suggestion sends a cold chill down your spine, a twist in your gut, and a tingling warmth between your legs, all of which leaves you feeling like you might float up out of your seat. He watches you carefully, just like always. Looking and waiting for the rejection, the polite decline on his invite.  

“I’ll meet you in the gym in ten?” You’ve never said no. Like the cliché goes; it’s a fucking addiction.  

Sparring has become your dirty little secret. You’d done it before, sure. But back then it was strict and with purpose and Old Steve corrected your form with precision. Now you only did it when you were alone and it was a whole different game. 

It starts friendly, a light warmup and practice drills both of you could do in your sleep by now. Some friendly banter. A couple of unexpected moves to throw the other off balance. His corrections no longer have that precision they once had. Instead his hands linger on you and he presses a little closer. Your focus has now shifted from besting the great Captain America to instead figuring out if you can get him to pin you down in a way that isn’t completely obvious.  

There’s times it’s slow and drawn out, a lot of dancing around and eyeing each other before a takedown. Other times it’s hard and fast with barely any warning before one of you is on top of the other. Sometimes it gets rough; a shove into a wall or a takedown that knocks your breath out completely. It was rough a lot the first year after The Snap. Neither of you ever willing to admit you needed the pain to fee alive. You’ve moved past that now and the roughness is for the sheer pleasure of it all. 

And then occasionally, when you haven’t been around each other enough and there’s something pent up inside both of you, it gets dirty; innuendos whispered against the shell of an ear, his leg between yours and a slight grind of his hips when he has you against the wall, an accidental slip of your hand up the inside of his thigh. The dirty was rare and taboo, but you couldn’t help but want it more often than you got it. 

No matter the type, at the end of it, you’re always breathing heavily and worn out, a mixture of aching to do it again and feeling completely satisfied coursing through you. You don’t like admitting it’s your version of sex, but it is. And the only reason you’re not slipping your hand into your panties every night after you do it is because you’re just too damn tired. Besides, you do that plenty of other nights. But that, and the overwhelming self-hate that comes with it, is a different story. 

You make quick work of changing into the black leggings, sports bra, and simple tank top you’ve made a habit of keeping in your room at The Haven. The place is your second home and there are some weeks you’re here more than you are your apartment, but you’ve thinned out the wardrobe you keep in an effort to keep yourself from lingering too long. As empty as it has become, the whole building holds an air of depression that’s seeped right into the grey walls. It’s also why you all stopped calling it The Compound and renamed it The Haven. It was a nice attempt to bring a warm feeling back to the place, even if it didn’t always work. 

You’re almost out of your bedroom door when you see the red sweater, his red sweater, resting on the chair in the corner. It gives you pause and that punch of guilt comes crashing over you in a wave. Leaving him in your room to go fuck his best friend.  

Stop.  

It’s not what you’re doing. He’s not in your room. He’s gone. Gone. And you’re not fucking anyone. 

You slip backwards out the door and watch that sweater until it’s just a sliver between the door and the frame. And then it’s gone, trapped behind a heavy wood door to stop taunting you. You breathe a weighted sigh and pry your hand from the door handle. Steve is waiting for you. 

--- 

“Feisty today, aren’t you?” he hisses after your elbow in his ribs puts some space between you. You’ve been at it for a little over twenty minutes. 

“Can’t handle me?” You swipe your arm over your forehead to slick away sweat. “You’re getting slow, old man.”  

“Age jokes?” There’s a smirk on his lips that should have warned you that he was about to make a move, but you’re completely unprepared. “What’s next?” he grunts as he manipulates you to twist your arm behind your back and presses his chest to your shoulder blades. His other hand ghosts around your neck, never doing more than cradling it in his palm. “You gonna start calling me Daddy?”   

Your sharp gasp is audible and there’s not a chance in the entire galaxy that he didn’t feel the way you shuddered and melted back against him. There’s a small chuckle against your hair just behind your ear that confirms it.  

Did he know? Had Bucky told him about your little secret kink that was rarely indulged upon? Fuck. Did he know all of your kinks? How much did they share with each other? Best friends. 

“Yield?” His voice is clearer, hands already loosening around you in preparation of letting you go. You recognize the tone. Something triggered his own guilt, prompting him to step back. You can let him go or you can keep him close, continue your game and push the boundaries. You want to so badly.  

You hesitate and breath catches in your throat as you fight internally with yourself before finally whispering, “Yield,” back to him. He’s gone in an instant, cold air filling the empty space behind you and you instantly regret it.  

There is no right answer. 

--- 

You have a reoccurring dream that’s somewhere between ecstasy and terror. You’re sharing a bed with Steve, in your childhood bedroom for a reason you can never figure out. It’s dark in the room and he’s pressed up behind you, a large hand over your hip and a clear hardness rubbing against your ass. Neither of you speak, but you push back into him, aching to feel that hardness between your legs.  

You grind against each other, soft moans the only sounds you hear. Then it’s not enough and that ache becomes too strong. Clothes are gone, dissolved off your bodies like they were never there as he scoops his arm behind your knees, bringing them to your chest as he sits up. He keeps you on your side as he gets to his knees, one hand on your ass, the other keeping your legs together and towards your chest. He lines himself up and your body is begging him to push inside of you. You bite down on your lip so hard, you swear you could feel the pain of it in the morning when you wake. All you want is for him to press his hips forward and put his dick inside of you. 

He obliges, but slowly. He eases in, just an inch at a time, slowing spreading you open for him and pleasure coursing through you. You moan and grip your pillow tighter. He feels only barely inside of you when there’s a sound outside the door, footsteps of someone coming closer.  

You hope and plead that they won’t enter, but they do. Steve bunches the comforter around his waist, shielding you from the unwanted eyes of the intruder, but stays inside of you. You want the person to go away, want Steve to push all the way inside of you, to fuck you like you’ve been craving, but it doesn’t happen. Steve withdraws and in a fit of anger about the feeling of emptiness between your legs, you sit up and are faced with the betrayal in Bucky’s eyes as he stands at the foot of your bed. 

You don’t remember much after that. Sometimes there is more, but when you wake you can never quite piece together the blurry memories. Sometimes you just wake up right there, unsure if you’re left horny or distraught; your constant inner turmoil. Usually, you kick the covers off yourself to cool your sweaty body and bury your face into your pillow, willing yourself back to sleep. 

--- 

You still remember the first time you realized how you felt about Steve. It happened unexpectedly and very suddenly. You’d both been in the study of what once was the Avengers Tower, but now was more of an empty, cursed castle. It was only eight months after The Snap. It didn’t feel like that long. As you both sat there in silence, a record playing softly to fill the void, you looked down into your newly empty glass and just felt defeated.  

A song started and from the very first bar, you recognized it. It was the slow, entrancing voice of Doris Day singing a song that had become very, very dear to your heart. Tears welled up, but you pushed them away with the back of your hand. 

“He used to say that if we ever got married, this was the song he wanted to dance to,” you told Steve, voice surprisingly clear for how you were feeling. He looked up from his own drink. You knew the alcohol didn’t have the same effect on his body as it did you and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing for him right then. He looked at you apologetically and nodded. 

“I know a thing or two about being owed a dance you’ll never get.” It may not be the same exact situation, but he understood how you felt, how just a song could send you down a path in your mind that hurt so badly. He waited for a moment before downing the rest of his glass and standing up. He walked over to the record player and with a delicate ease, started the song over. Walking over to where you sat with a confused, sad look, he held out his hand. “I’m not Bucky, but I’m not too bad of a dancer.” You couldn’t help but smile at him and his attempt to ease the sorrow.  

“Well I’m not Peggy,” you said, slipping your hand into his. He gave a gentle pull to bring you to your feet. “And I will probably step on your toes,” you joke. It brought a smile to his face wider than you’d seen in a long time and it made you feel truly happy that you’d been the one to put it there. 

The song itself is only about a minute and a half long so he made quick work of placing his hand politely at your hip and holding your hand out to the side, swooping you into a small, slow step. He led with a grace you didn’t quite expect and it was easy to follow him, to get lost in the sway of the simple piano in the song.  

You found yourself leaning in closer, turning your head and pressed your cheek to his shoulder, eyes closed and face practically buried into the comfort of his neck. He laid his head carefully against yours and you suspect he also had closed his eyes to lose himself. You expected yourself to think of nothing but Bucky, to be imagining it was his arms you were in. Instead, you melted into Steve and the only thing you could think of, was how safe you were in his arms.  

You’d leaned heavily on each other in those first few months. Tears, hugs, shoulder bumps, squeezing hands, grounding looks from across the room. Anything and everything to keep your heads above water. He’d always been one of your best friends since the moment he came into your life and now you feared he may have actually been the last person on the planet that you could trust with everything you had.  

As the song faded down, you pulled away from him just enough to look him in the eyes and that’s when it hit you. Like a ton of bricks, as they say. Something came over you and you just wanted to pull him down and kiss him. There was a look you couldn’t quite place in his eyes. They were soft, an internal conflict reflected in them as he glanced down to your lips in a slow blink. His hand closed around yours, a palpable change from the gentlemanly way he had cradled it through the dance. His lips parted a fraction and your stomach started twisting in an anxious sort of pleasure.  

But then a new song came on, something more upbeat and the spell was broken. You both backed away from each other and you thanked him for the dance. You chocked it up to grief and craving safety and familiarity in such desolate and chaotic times. You expected it to fade, to wither away and never come back. 

But all it did was grow. 

--- 

You’re sitting in the main office with Steve, work long since forgotten. You’re sitting at what has officially become Nat’s desk, but with her gone on another will-be dead end hunt for Clint, you’ve made yourself comfortable in her chair. Steve sits across from you and though he won’t say it, he’s relieved he’s not in charge anymore. He’s content on the other side of the desk, riding out the storm instead of trying to tame it. 

It’s gotten late, the room growing dark with patches of yellow light from the lamps gently placed around the room. Everyone had silently agreed the overhead lights were too harsh for nighttime. They were too white. Too happy. Too fake. A soft, warming color from the lamps fit the air of night much better. It also helps to shadow your face after you swallow the rest of your drink. Your hair, growing a little longer than usual, provides a curtain that helps to give you courage for the question burning at the tip of your tongue. There’s been flirtations passed between you and the way his eyes roam over your body as you lean back only encourages you. 

“So be honest,” You don’t look at him as you ask, but instead at the empty glass you place on the desk. “Did he tell you?” When he responds with silence, you look up through your lashes to see a genuine look of confusion. You sigh, not wanting to elaborate. “The… daddy thing.” You cringe saying it. It’s been at least a month since Steve said it, but it still lingers in your mind all the time. His look of confusion lessens, but you can tell even more elaboration is still needed. “I don’t know how much guys share about that kind of stuff. I didn’t know if Bucky ever told you… about that.” Your foggy mind can’t find a tactful way to phrase Daddy Kink, but the look of realization dawns on his features. He licks his lips quickly before literally biting back a smile while he looks down. Your cheeks are absolutely burning in a blush right now. 

“Uhh,” he stutters and clears his throat. “He did not.” You let out an embarrassed groan and throw your face into your hands which draws a chuckle from him.  

“I thought for sure he had to have and you were screwing with me.” Your voice is muffled through your fingers, but still clear enough to understand. “Instead I just confess a kink for no reason.” Another groan from you and another chuckle from him. 

“Buck was a private guy. He didn’t share much about what went on behind closed doors.” Why did you open your mouth? Steve hadn’t brought it up. You could have continued your lives without him knowing and without tossing yourself into a pit of embarrassment.  

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, starting to melt your hands away from your face, but sinking down further into your chair. “You didn’t need to know that about me. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He’s still biting his lower lip, trying not to laugh at you and you’re not sure if you want to disintegrate or laugh along with him. 

“If it helps,” he starts, the sly smile on his lips tempting to turn into a seductive smirk. “Even though he didn’t tell me, it was pretty clear by the way you… reacted.” You can’t help it. It’s a tortured groan that comes out as you sink as low as you possibly can, butt sliding off the chair entirely, your lower back now supporting your weight. “Hey!” he calls to you, patting his palm against the wooden desk to cut through your groan. “It’s not that bad. Get back up here.” He’s still trying not to laugh. 

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble, but push yourself back up in your seat. “I need another drink.” You reach out to pour yourself another and Steve picks up his beer bottle. 

“You can just count it as another thing you and I have in common.” You stop pouring. He says it so simply, takes a swig of his beer so casually and yet there’s a glimmer in his eye that reflects the dirty place he sends your mind spiraling into.  

You thought he’d been teasing you, pushing your buttons. You never once thought it might be something he also liked. And if he didn’t know about your dirty little secret kink when he said it, had he said it for his own pleasure? Your stomach starts knotting inside of you and it’s getting uncomfortably warm. 

“That’s… good to know.” It’s not a good response, but your mind can’t come up with anything else. The tension between you is thick and light as a fucking marshmallow and you swear it tastes just as sweet. 

Neither of you speak for a time and neither of you look away. His eyes hold yours, dare you to make a move, to cross the line. You stare back, but barely seeing him as your mind runs wild imagining just how he would react if you called him Daddy and desperately trying to figure out how you can slip that into any future interactions.  

He can clearly see you’re daydreaming, but he still says nothing. He just watches as your eyes come and go, enjoying the way your tongue occasionally darts out to wet your lips and the flush that’s forming near your collarbone. You take a deep, slow breath to refocus yourself and calm your heart that you didn’t realize is pounding in your chest. 

He rests his fist under his chin, turns it so he can run his pinky finger over his bottom lip, making you wonder just how soft his lips would be and how roughly he’d press them to you. He looks as though he’s about to say something, but you’ll never know what because the buzzing of his phone vibrating on the desk breaks the spell. He looks at it and then regretfully back at you. 

“I have to take this,” he admits. You wave your hand and shake your head a little too wildly. 

“Go, go!” He swipes the phone from the desk and has it to his ear before he’s out of his chair and leaving the room. Everything comes crashing back down on you and the lustful heat just feels like sticky sweat now.  

You swallow your drink in one gulp and retire to your room before he gets back. 

--- 

Your hands are buried in the dirt, trying to dig a hole deep enough for the damned blueberry bush, but every time you think you’ve found the right spot, you hit giant rocks. Who the hell decided giant rocks should litter the ground where you would unexpectedly be trying to plant things? Try to do some good in the world you told yourself. It’ll be fun you told yourself.  

“You better fucking grow after this ordeal,” you hiss at the bush. Although it wasn’t even a bush yet. It’s a stem and roots that’ll take over a year to produce berries. Stupid damn garden. 

You’d started it two years ago. There was a patch of land in back of your apartment building that was getting overgrown and you were at the point where you needed a project, something to do. Growing some vegetables and herbs and flowers seemed like a good idea. Get into the dirt with your hands and make something. Grow something. Share something. Of course, you had no idea what in the hell you were doing so it took over a year for you to produce a vegetable that was larger than your finger. It’s a pain in the ass and plants are finicky as fuck, but despite your moaning and complaining, it works. It feels good. 

“If you don’t grow, I’m going to rip you apart with my hands and then find a chipper to run you through,” you threaten as you pick it up to gently place it in its hole.  

“I thought gardening was supposed to be soothing,” Steve’s voice comes from behind you. “Kind of like yoga or something.” You turn your head to pass him a glare. 

“Maybe intimidating plants is soothing to me.” You turn back to your bush and fill the hole in with dirt before pushing up off your knees and standing. “What are you doing here?”  

“What? Can’t visit my friend?” he teases. You take off your gardening gloves, hot hands feeling a rush of cool when they hit fresh air. You toss the gloves into your bag of tools on the ground and cock your hip out. 

“You never come see me in the garden unless it’s important or unless you want more cucumbers,” you call him out. “And seeing as how you just got a batch of cucumbers from me, I don’t think that’s what you’re here for.” You bring your hand to your forehead to shade your eyes so you can stop squinting at the setting sun and see him a little better. He’s leaning his shoulder up against the brick wall of the building, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“I’ve got to cancel this weekend,” he says with a hint of regret. You can feel yourself start to deflate a little. “There’s an older gentleman in the support group who needs an escort upstate. I won’t be back until late Sunday.” 

“You would abandon me for something noble,” you accuse in a teasing manner. Lowering your hand from your face, you take a few steps towards him.  

This weekend was your annual ice cream fest, as you affectionately called it. Once a year, you gather as much ice cream as you can both handle and devour it like children at a sleepover. It had originated from early on; a drunken night in which you needed consoling. Steve thought ice cream seemed the perfect thing to help you out and it kind of just stuck. It’s something you look forward to every year now. 

“When are you leaving?” you ask.  

“Tonight,” he says, confirming there’s no hope for salvaging the weekend.  

“Well, shit.” You manage to say it in a somewhat humorous tone, trying to make it clear you aren’t angry with him for canceling.  

“We can binge next weekend,” he offers quickly. A couple more steps and you find yourself next to him, leaning your back up against the same wall, using his shadow as a shield from the sun as the rough brick scratches into your shoulders. 

“I don’t know if that’s going to cut it, Rogers,” you tease. “My broken heart isn’t so easily mended.” He cracks a smile and leans in closer to you. 

“What ever can I do to make it up to you?” he inquires in jest. He slips his hands out of his pockets and pushes his shoulder off the wall, coming into your personal space. You make a show of biting your lip and him-hawing as you roll your eyes upwards to look at the sky in mock thought. “You tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” He’s using that tone suddenly; the dark and dirty one that threatens to undo you. He shifts so he’s in front of you, places each of his palms on the brick, one on each side of your waist. “Anything you want, babygirl.”  

Your eyes snap back to his and that lip bite you’ve been doing loses its falsity. Your pelvis inches off the wall, gravitating to him and causing you to actively pull it back. You’re so focused on your hips that you don’t catch your hand reaching out for him and taking hold of his sweater in the middle of his chest. You play it off with a laugh and unfurl your fingers free of the fabric, instead giving him a pat. 

“That’s just mean,” you chuckle. “Playing on a girl’s fantasy like that.” His lips tilt upwards and he leans ever so slightly into your touch when you don’t take it away immediately. 

“Well maybe one day we won’t be just playing with it.” You catch the look of longing in his eyes as your throat closes up and nearly chokes you on air. It’s taking everything you have not to melt into a fleshy puddle at his feet. You want to say yes, fucking beg him to make good on that, but you can barely breathe let alone speak. He reaches up with one hand and twists a small bundle of your stray hair around his fingers. “I miss you when I’m gone,” he says softly, the dirty tone gliding away and making way for something softer. 

“I miss you too.” Your voice is dry, a stark contrast to the way the skin on your throat is wet with sweat and heated with a blush. You swallow and try to speak a little more clearly, but he beats you to it. 

“We deserve to be happy too, you know.” It’s what he tells his support groups, the same line he’s been using for at least the last year and a half in order to help people move forward. And yet, it doesn’t sound rehearsed. You slip your hand from his chest up to his shoulder. 

“Do you really believe that?” There’s hesitation. A struggle. He sighs and it’s ragged. He twirls your hair a little more, distracted. 

“I’m trying to,” is his honest reply. It’s such an easy thing to tell other people, but to convince yourself when you were the ones fighting the battle, when you’re the ones who lost? The ones who got your best friends, your loved ones turned to ash? Not as easy to believe. “I want to believe it.” He leans down, rests his forehead on yours. “I’m ready to try at least.”  

It’s hard to focus. The setting sun is beating down on half your face, heating your skin and nearly blinding one of your eyes. The twirl of his fingers pulls so gently on your hair that it could practically lull you to sleep. At some point your hand had slipped up towards the back of his neck and you can feel the ends of the hair on the nape of his neck on your fingertips. Your hand itches to slide up over his head and pull him down to you. But when you close your eyes, you see Bucky’s disappointed face reflecting back to you. 

“Do you think he’d want us to be happy?” you whisper. Do you think he’d give his blessing for us to fuck? But no, that isn’t right. It’s more than that, isn’t it? It wouldn’t be a hookup. It wouldn’t be a one-time thing. It would be real. Is that supposed to make it better? There’s a long pause before he answers. 

“Does it really matter anymore?” A bitter and defeated chuckle follows his words. He’s tired. You can see it in his eyes. Tired of worrying about right and wrong. Tired of wanting and not having. Tired of not letting himself be happy. He’s so close and you want to give in, want to pull him down and press your lips to his and tell him to hell with everyone and everything. But you just can’t shake Bucky’s image from your mind. 

“Steve,” you pause, voice cracking. “I-” 

“I know,” he cuts you off gently and sighs pulling his head off of yours. He’s disappointed, but not surprised. “But if and when you’re ready, just know I’m here.” As he steps back, he lets his hand graze over your hip and it leaves a tingle in its wake. He leaves you with a smile and a promise to be back soon and it takes you quite a few minutes to get yourself off that brick wall and back to work. 

Tears silently fall down your face tonight, every molecule of you feeling torn. He’d broached the line, held out his hand and offered for you to go with him. If you’re honest, you never actually thought the day would come. Sure, you’d dreamed of it, yearned for it, but it was always so unreachable. And now he’d just… offered it to you. Yet he did it in such a way that you could ignore it. You could pretend it never happened and just stay as you are. The question is; do you want to? 

--- 

It’s weeks later and you’ve barely seen him. A mixture of work, personal responsibilities, and exhaustion making your schedules clash against each other. There’s been a couple phone calls, a few texts, and brief meetings with fellow teammates, but no one-on-one time appropriate to broach his proposal. 

It hasn’t stopped you from thinking about it, dreaming about it and then tearing yourself apart for doing so. Honestly though, your self-depreciation is starting to feel a little forced. There’s the smallest shift from feeling guilty for wanting Steve to feeling guilty for not feeling guilty. It still leaves the black hole in your stomach in the morning, but it’s different. 

You’re shuffling papers around in the office because, yes, paperwork does still matter, when Natasha comes in. You give her a smile as she sheds her jacket and comes to stand across from you, leaning her hands on the back of a chair. 

“Doing okay today?” she asks tentatively. You don’t even look up from the report you’re trying to read. 

“Yeah, but could someone teach Rocket some penmanship if he���s going to make notes on these?” It’s only partially a joke. You’re turning the paper in your hands and squinting your eyes trying to make sense of his chicken scratch. When you glance up, you expect to see a smile on her face, but there isn’t even a trace of one and her eyes are analyzing you. “Are you okay?” you question back. 

“Yeah,” There’s a look of subtle surprise on her face with a simple raise of her eyebrows as she straightens up and crosses her arms over her chest. “I guess I’m still just tiptoeing around some things. I thought today would be hard for you.” Your brow knits together. Today? Why would today be hard? Hell, what is today? It’s Wednesday. It’s summertime. It’s… Fuck. Your face drops. “You forgot, didn’t you?” It’s gentle and nonjudgmental. “That’s actually good,” she tries to reassure. “Moving on and whatnot.” 

You throw your face into your hands, dropping the reports on the table. You’re honestly not sure what you’re feeling. You forgot your anniversary. Your anniversary! You’d forgotten it plenty of times before and it wasn’t like it was your real anniversary either. You and Bucky had just picked a random date out of obligatory social construct after realizing you had no idea when you’d actually gotten together. After The Snap it hit you a little differently though with the last couple stinging you sharply and causing bad days. Not this year apparently.  

“I’m an awful girlfriend,” you groan through your palms.  

“Sweetie, I hate to break it to you,” Natasha offers softly, but with a small sense of humor hidden in her voice. “You’re not his girlfriend anymore.” 

You take a deep breath and it shakes. When you squeeze your eyes shut behind your hands, you can feel tears make their way through you. You use the heels of your palms to rub them away. She watches it hit you; the emotions, the guilt, the tearing apart and she walks around the table to put her hand on your shoulder. It’s a small touch but it’s friendly and grounding and it makes you feel more comfortable. 

“Maybe it’s time to let him go. Let them all go,” she suggests. “It’s been more than three years now.” Some days it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. You bring your hands back to the papers on the table and pretend to watch them. “No one would blame you for moving on.” She gives your shoulder a squeeze before shifting away and leaning her lower back onto the table edge next to you. There’s a brief hesitation before she speaks again. “No one would judge you for who you moved on to either.” You look up sharply at her and she averts her eyes to the floor.  

“Are you implying something?” you sound a little angrier than you are. No one’s ever acknowledged this thing between you and Steve before, so the instinctive defense kicks in.  

“Look, it’s not like you two are subtle with the constant flirting.” She’s doing that thing she does where she’s giving you the answers straight, but her voice is soft. It works to help dissolve the anger. “Hell, there’s a bet going around on when you’ll finally hook up.” You’re not sure if you’re more embarrassed or humored by that piece of information. 

“Where’s Rocket’s bet at?” you ask, deciding to go with the humor. “I can’t let that little bastard win.” Natasha cracks a smile at you. 

“He’s running the betting pool so he actually wins it all if you don’t hook up.” She chuckles as you groan and lean back in your chair. 

“Well shit,” you say. “I guess I have to sleep with Steve now.” You both take a moment to laugh at the notion, letting any remaining tension about the conversation float away. When the smiles and the laughs settle, you give a small sigh. “I just feel like the worst person in the world,” you admit. “What kind of woman falls for the supposed love of her life’s best friend?”  

“There are worse things that a woman could do. Trust me.” Her words are true, but don’t do much to dull your pain. “It’s not fair to hold yourself to past commitments. We’ve gone through an unprecedented event. There’s not a rule book on what’s right and wrong here.” You peek up at her with a tilt of your head. 

“You sound like Steve at his support groups.” She squints her eyes and then cringes, bringing her shoulders up to her ears. 

“Oh god, I do, don’t I?” You both laugh again. “Alright, take out all the sentimental therapy bullshit,” she retracts with a smile as she drops her arms and pushes herself away from the table. “Just let yourself be happy.” She walks back around the table to grab her jacket off the chair. “Besides,” she adds before leaving. “Can’t let that raccoon win.” 

[arigatouiris]

the history teacher // rengoku kyojuro

Author’s Note: I couldn’t end with the Rengoku angst from before sighhhh. I had to write a part 2 because ugh it was killing me. I want this precious baby to keep smiling and even if it was a bittersweet happy sort of end I wanted him happy happy. So here. Hope ya’ll like this, and thanks for the love!

Word count: 2768

Pairing: Modern! Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Warnings: pining, mentions of death, spoilers for manga, fluff

❝

If there was one word that described Rengoku Kyojuro as a teacher, then it’d be... eccentric. 

Yes, it’d be eccentric because he was well known for his odd ways of teaching and inflicting knowledge on to his students. History was one of the subjects many students hated (even grown-ups, for that matter, don’t recall history with fondness). With someone like Kyojuro on board, the school definitely hit a goldmine. 

Rengoku loved history, and perhaps, because of his added eccentricity, it became a must for him to put two and two together and have his students see what history actually meant. It was fun learning how the world worked until that point, and there was so much energy in learning the theory of it all that Rengoku knew exactly what to do for each class. His passion never failed his students, and that was something even the students appreciated. 

He never picked favorites. He never compromised, yet, he would always understand when something was too much. He could read the expressions on his students’ faces like the words off a book, and that was one of the best skills Rengoku had as a teacher, and definitely not his last.

However, if he had to pinpoint what Rengoku’s negative traits were, then it’d be one thing and one thing only.

He wasn’t great with women. 

It was as if he was healing from a past flame but he was the textbook definition of shy when it came to them. Rengoku could speak to them as colleagues, as friends, as students, but the second someone implanted the idea of a ‘date’ in his head, the words would leave his system, his eyes would look everywhere except on people, and his fingers would turn tingly at the edges. It wasn’t as if he hated women or that he knew he wasn’t going to do well with a woman, it wasn’t any of the regular fears that men had. 

It was as if even looking at another woman was cheating.

He never realized who he was cheating on—because that didn’t make sense. And this wasn’t always the case either. When Rengoku grew out of his teenage years, his interest in other women reduced drastically. As a child, he did have crushes, he had first loves but they never exceeded to a relationship and he was left wondering if something was wrong with him. 

Rengoku, however, was incredibly happy being single—and if sometimes felt like he wasn’t single at all. He never felt alone, strangely, and he never felt an overwhelming desire to meet anyone. He felt content; as if anything that had to happen would happen and the mere idea of pondering was too foreign. His colleague, Mitsuri, often trudged him into meeting other women, and initially, Rengoku agreed. But, the dates were so bad that he eventually gave up.

Whoever his heart was waiting for, or whatever this was, would eventually show up. 

What a hopeless romantic.

*

After class that day, Rengoku walked home quietly. He had a soft smile on his face and he noticed that it may rain. Being as well prepared as he was, he was equipped with an umbrella, but he had a feeling he’d catch the bus before it poured. On reaching the bus stop, in less than a minute, the rain caught along—a soft chuckle escaped his lips as sat at the bus stop, alone, thinking of dinner.

He could hear a patter from not too far, causing him to turn his head toward the source of the sound. Someone was running toward the bus stop, with a bag over their head. As soon as this person reached, she sat down on the bench next to his and breathed heavily. She was a bit wet from the rain, but there was nothing else. Rengoku couldn’t even see her face, she was bowing down from having sprinted from god knows where. He turned and faced forward before something caught his ear.

The woman beside him was now... crying?

Rengoku turned to her and noticed that her hands were covering her face, she was bending down, her forehead was touching her knee, and her shoulders were shaking. She wasn’t a loud cryer, she was sobbing but quietly. Like, the weight of the world was on her shoulders, and she was just getting so tired. He didn’t know what to do, he was a bit confused. However, not knowing who she was somewhat helped in his need to comfort her.

He raised his hand and placed it carefully on her back, patting her a couple of times. She froze for a second, before leaning up slowly, turning to look at him. Rengoku’s eyes widened for a second as he looked into her (e/c) eyes, but he got his composure back. He smiled warmly at her before noticing her lips quiver once more.

A lone tear streaked down Rengoku’s cheek as he watched her. His hand, which was on her back went to her cheek, and there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to just touch her once. Just once and that would be enough. There would be nothing more he would ever need.

His eyes widened at this unfamiliar memory. What was this? Why was he suddenly feeling nostalgic for a time he didn’t recognize?

     “You feel warm,” Her voice said, raspily. “I’m sorry I’m crying...”

Rengoku shook his head, “No! Crying is a cleanse! It helps you take away whatever you weighing on you. So cry all you need. I’ll be here.”

She turned to look at him from the corner of her eye before sniffing once. Somehow, when someone said ‘cry’ to her, she lost all reason to. Just by looking at him, a warm happy face, smiling at her, showing her kindness despite being a stranger, made her feel less lonely. And maybe it was because of his kindness, did his eyes seem so familiar.

     “Have we met?”

Rengoku suddenly felt a whiff—a scent so familiar it felt like home. His heart ached in such a familiar way, and the very familiarity of it pained him. His hand, which was on her back, now traveled to her cheek.

     “Have we?” He asked, his voice merely a whisper.

As if reality pulled them back to where they are, Rengoku and the woman pulled away from each other, shuffling and awkwardness filled the air. He took another look at her before squinting a bit, wondering where he had seen her and why he felt so happy. He felt his heartbeat erratically, imitating the sounds his ears would make after running 15 laps in the morning.

It is as if, oddly, he was waiting for someone but he didn’t know who they were until she arrived. He was always hyperaware that there was something missing in his life, and somehow, with her entry, it seemed complete. 

     “You were crying. Are you feeling better now?” Rengoku’s voice alerted her.

She smiled a bit, shooting his heart to the skies, “I feel a lot better. Thank you, uh...” 

     “Rengoku Kyojuro! I’m a history teacher at Kimetsu Academy!”

She giggled, confusing him. 

     “Did I say something funny?” 

She shook her head before saying, “You’re filled with so much energy! It’s nice to see.”

There it was, once again. He didn’t know anything about her yet her face told him things he was so glad to know. For some reason, Rengoku knew that the very next words he’d say, he had said a long time ago. A time not from now. A time he didn’t even know had passed.

But, he had said them. And he had said them to her.

     “I’m glad my energy could make you happy.”

He suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to cry, and he wasn’t certain why. Just by looking at her, sitting beside her, having seen her cry, made him feel things he thought he had felt before but had never felt in his waking life. What is this? he questioned himself repeatedly, but perhaps, that was what he was doing wrong.

Perhaps, he wasn’t supposed to question anything. All his life, he felt like he was waiting for something, for someone, and here was something that felt so familiar with no reason—and he was questioning it again. Shaking his head, he smiled warmly at her, having her blink.

     “My name is (l/n) (y/n). I’m going to join as a teacher’s assistant at Kimetsu Academy too.”

Rengoku smiled, nodding once. 

     “I am glad you’re feeling better now, (l/n)-san.”

     “All thanks to you. Really. For helping out a stranger who just broke out crying like that—”

     “We all rely on the kindness of strangers, (l/n)-san. I am happy that I had the chance to show kindness to someone else. It’s a great feeling!”

(y/n) looked at her and smiled. He felt so warm. Like a winter fire. 

     “Also remember,” He caused her to blink. “If it doesn’t matter in five years, then it doesn’t matter.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened. He didn’t ask her why she was crying, he didn’t ask her what it was about. He didn’t care to know more than what was necessary and yet, he was trying to help her. It was strange how soft this felt and how his kindness moved her to tears, but the mere fact that it had made her heart warm.

     “Thank you, Rengoku-san.”

It was perhaps the way she called his name did he confirm his theory. He knew her, perhaps in a previous life. Perhaps, in a previous life, he loved her—but they could not be together. Perhaps, their story was one that dragged on for centuries before the right permutation hit and they could finally be brought together. He turned to look at her once and once again felt that strange familiarity. 

(y/n)-san.

Rengoku felt as if he had dreamed her up before he met her; not out of nothing—nothing comes of nothing—but out of an earlier encounter, both true and wished for. He recognized her with such certainty because he already, in a certain sense, knew her; and because he had quite literally been expecting her, he felt as though he’s known her forever, and yet, at the same time, she was quite foreign to him. 

They were familiar foreign bodies.

*

With time, Rengoku found it strangely odd how much he wanted to talk to her. He watched her eat, speak, read and even sometimes, watched her teach—and she was such a blissful person. He couldn’t be rude to her, no one could, and there was something so mildly attractive with her flaws that turned his head inside out.

Mitsuri knew of his growing attraction to the teacher assistant and was incredibly happy that her friend was finally facing a woman. However, there was also an odd sense of familiarity that even she sensed, which didn’t go unnoticed.

     “Do you know her from somewhere, Rengoku-san?” Mitsuri asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Rengoku laughed once, “It feels like I’ve known her all my life, but I only met her a couple of months ago!”

Mitsuri found that odd. Suddenly, being the romantic that she is, she clapped her hands together and hummed loudly—causing Rengoku to merely blink at her, confusedly. 

     “Kanroji—”

     “Rengoku-san!” She was twirling on her spot, “I think you were lovers in a past life!”

Rengoku blinked, unsure. 

     “What makes you say that?” He asked, tilting his head.

     “For starters, the way you look at her feels to me like you’ve been watching her for a long time. You smile so... calmly at her, like you’re so, so in love with her and this isn’t something a few months can do! And not to mention—” She squeaked before saying, “Not to mention the familiarity! That can’t happen so fast, either!”

Rengoku nodded, taking mental notes.

     “Can you describe it to me?”

     “The first time I saw her, she was crying. As if something terrible happened. I never asked her why, but just looking at her cry made me feel terrible. As if I had caused it. As if I’ve caused it before.”

     “Oh, Rengoku-san! That’s... That’s—”

     “And, there was a whiff of a scent. Maybe it was the perfume she was wearing, but it felt as if I had smelled it a long time ago. And when she complimented my energy, it felt as if she had already done it once before. A deja vu sort of essense—”

     “Rengoku-san! You have to tell her!” Mitsuri now looked furious.

     “Tell her... ?”

     “You have to tell her you love her because from the looks of it, you’ve been in love with her your whole life!”

Rengoku never denied being in love with (y/n), and maybe that’s why Mitsuri thought he was a romantic as well. It wasn’t that, at all. He simply believed there was no point hiding something as obvious as that, there was no need to. It was as if someone was trying to hide the color of their hair or skin, or trying to hide that they had teeth. 

There was no use in hiding what was obvious.

(y/n) was eating lunch alone that evening. She was late in submitting some documents that converted her from being a teacher’s assistant to a proper teacher, and she decided she would eat only after she completed the work. Now that she had, there was no one she could eat lunch with, so she sat alone on the terrace—recalling her childhood—and ate her bento.

     “(y/n)-san!” 

He was overjoyed when she had asked him to call her that a few weeks ago. It once again felt so familiar—he even noticed it the way she carried herself. She didn’t feel closed off, and he wondered if he was the only one feeling this. 

(y/n) turned and felt her heart skyrocket at the sight of her favorite history teacher.

     “Rengoku-san! Good evening.”

     “This is late for lunch,” Rengoku said, joining her. “But, I shall join you.”

She smiled before eating her lunch quietly, enjoying his presence. 

     “I wish I had a history teacher like you, Rengoku-san,” She chuckled, “I didn’t like history as a child.”

     “That’s you and so many others!” Rengoku laughed.

     “I’m sure you’re very good, I’ve heard from the students how good you are. How passionate you are about the subject. Warms my heart at how you use your energy in class. Your students are very lucky—”

     “I love you, (y/n)-san.”

     “I love you, (y/n). We will meet again.”

Her eyes widened at his words. Suddenly, there was fire around him—almost blinding him from her and he was suddenly wearing a black uniform—strange yet so familiar. 

     “R-Rengoku-san?”

Rengoku chuckled before leaning forward, their foreheads touching.

     “I think I said we’ll meet again.”

Her hands clung to his cheeks and she held him like her life depended on it. Tears were streaming down her face and she sobbed, but she didn’t know why. 

     “Rengoku-san!” She said, pressing herself to him, his hands slowly wrapping themselves around her fragile form.

Pulling away, Rengoku pressed his lips to hers, burying his fingers in her hair. She kissed back just as fervently, her hands moving to his neck and her bento forgotten on the ground. He pulled away a bit before pressing a soft kiss on her lips before kissing her cheek and then her neck, peppering kisses all the way, kissing her as if he had missed the chance to do so long ago.

If they remembered what it was, it would break them.

The two of them pulled away after a bit before staring into each other’s eyes. Rengoku smiled warmly as if he was more than happy with his accomplishment, and she chuckled.

     “I’ve always wondered why I kept waiting for someone.” He said, rubbing a thumb across her cheek.

     “Waiting?”

     “I discovered that I found a lover when I saw you cry for the first time!”

(y/n) pouted before hearing him laugh once, kissing her nose.

     “I can’t stop touching you...” He whispered, their noses touching.

There was no light attempting to take him away this time. She was here and so was he. And she had seen his love for her, just as he had seen hers.

     “Don’t you have class?” Rengoku asked, blinking a couple of times.

(y/n) blinked once, before pulling away, screaming. Rengoku silently packed her bento as she ran down, however, just before heading down, she paused. She turned around and grinned at him, her eyes closed.

     “I love you, Rengoku Kyojuro. History teacher. Love of my life!”

Rengoku’s eyes widened. 

Ah.

There it was.

❞

[hellreads]

hello!!! could you recommend some filthy/ explicit maknae line fics, also with good plot?? angst is welcomed too HEHE

hi there love, so I’m not sure if you’re asking for maknae line together in a fic or fics for Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook that contain good plot (this will be a mix of all the genres I read, may contain dark themes and some indulgent pwp as well) + explicit/filthy smut, but I’ll just list them all for you! | 🍒

Park Jimin

❥ Power Play by @dovechim➴ Pornstar!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ You know him as the A lister of all porn stars; a man who sits pretty in his place at the top of the food chain. But you also know him as the Park Jimin who single handedly humiliated you and ruined your own career as a rookie just starting out, the epitome of the biggest dick in the entire industry… and you’re not talking about his assets. But when Park Jimin comes to you, saying he’s in a slump that only you can get him out of and begs you to sign an exclusive contract with him; things get messy… in more ways than one.

❥ Me, You, and This Thing Between Us by @boymeetsweevil➴ Married/Pregnancy!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ You’re pregnant and Jimin is… happy about it.

❥ Bless Me Father by tesselate➴ Priest!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable. - Mark Twain

❥ Side to Side by @forgottenpasta➴ Idol/Therapist!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ Jimin loves massages and as his physical therapist it’s your duty to help him relax. Even if it means blurring professional boundaries and going a little too deep with your “hands on” approach.

❥ Otherworldly by @sinning-on-a-sunday➴ Coraline!AU | Jimin x Reader | Two-Shot➴ When you discover a tiny door in your home that leads to a much better version of your own life, it seems too good to be true. little do you know, the man posing as your boyfriend may be a lot more dangerous than you care to admit. and he is not intent on letting you leave.

❥ Dear Father by @gukptune➴ Priest!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ Drowned in their belief that a demon has encased itself to your soul, your parents send you away to be cleansed.

❥ Eradicate by @gukptune➴ Purge!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ A hotel intern finds himself trapped between death and lust.

❥ Neighbors by @jkeuphoriadreamland➴ Neighbor/Stalker!AU | Jimin x Reader | Series➴ Finally achieving your successes in life you never expected the distraction that came with your new hot neighbor. He, however, had been trying to get your attention for a much different reason.

Kim Taehyung

❥ Effervescence by fringesofsanity➴ Idol/Secret Affair!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Series➴ Just like the fizz of a cola on a hot summer’s day, your encounter with Taehyung is short but sparkly sweet.ORGetting married in three months, you and your girls attend Ultra Miami to cap your single life, a final hurrah of some sort. What you didn’t expect is meeting a beguiling boy with a boxy smile who gives you a festival you’ll forever reminisce.

❥ Teddy by @dom-joonie➴ FWB!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ //

❥ Of Lace and Lust by @hobidreams➴ BFF/F2L!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ Friendship rule number one: don’t imagine how amazing your bestfriend’s cock would feel inside you. except that’s all you can think about after accidentally discovering Taehyung’s kink for panties. specifically, the lacy ones you’re so fond of wearing.

❥ Slow Burn by fringesofsanity➴ Idol/Escort!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Series➴ He was just supposed to be one of those clients. But then he gives you a night you’ll never forget.

❥ Aperture by @maliby➴ Idol/Fanboy!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ You met Taehyung at a fansign and you knew right away that he was trouble, are you willing to risk it all for a fan?

❥ Hush Baby by @jimio-nnie➴ Idol/MUA!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ You’re a new staff at BigHit entertainment and it will be your first time in participating in their photoshoot as a makeup artist. What happened if you got left behind by your seniors and unknowingly ended up sitting in the same van as BTS; more specifically on your celebrity-crush’s laps? It wouldn’t take long until the friction against his crotch peaked your arousal.

❥ Baby, Oh Baby by @jungkookiebus➴ Lovers/Pregnancy!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ Taehyung and you have been trying for months to get pregnant; you’ve tried crazy diets, stuck to your calendar, got him to diet, but it’s all been for nothing. No matter how healthy your doctor says you are, you can’t conceive. Taehyung tries everything within his power to show you that everything is going to be okay and for one night he makes you forget all about the calendars, schedules, and all the crazy things that came with you trying to have a baby.

❥ A Matter of Shyness by @jjungkookislife➴ College/Sex Worker/Lovers!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Series➴ Taehyung is your regular college student, who happens to do sex work on the side to pay his bills, who just happens to have a crush on Y/n from Sociology class. She has no idea she’s been thirsting over Taehyung (Kim95) and he has no idea she’s been following him on all his NSFW platforms.

❥ Fill You Up by @littlemisskookie➴ Married/Pregnancy!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Series➴ Your husband’s been very horny since you got pregnant.

❥ Dichotomy by @kpopfanfictrash➴ Arranged Marriage!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ You hate him. He hates you. It’s a fine line though, isn’t it – between love and hate?

❥ Flower Arrangements by @iq-biased➴ Lovers/Pregnancy!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ From the moment you met Taehyung, his flourish for life drew you in completely. It wasn’t long before you fell head over heels for the tattoo artist who was so wrong for you, it felt right. But your story hasn’t always been an easy one, and just recently it’s become a whole lot more complicated…

❥ Partition by @iq-biased➴ Mafia/Infidelity!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Series➴ Namjoon. Head of one of the fiercest gangs in Seoul, and your boyfriend. You know he has been working on something big lately. Whatever it is, he’s keeping it very quiet. So quiet, that you’re beginning to doubt whether he’ll ever get any time with you.But when his driver, the infamous Kim Taehyung, is tasked with taking you home during a date-gone-wrong, he’s got nothing but time for you. And time is something you’re finding it really hard to resist…

❥ Blush by @bang-tan-bitches➴ Idol!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ “Will you kiss me here?”

Jeon Jungkook

❥ My Way by @ellieljade➴ FUBU/Infidelity!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ Jungkook doesn’t appreciate your boyfriend’s insistence that he stop sleeping with you and he knows just how to prove that you like it his way.

❥ Illicit Photography by @jkeuphoriadreamland➴ Photography/Student!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ You’re a well-respected university professor who assigns a portfolio project to your photography students, but your best student, Jungkook, doesn’t follow the rules very well.

❥ Taken at Dusk by @yeontanismypresident➴ Hybrid/University/Stalker!AU | Jungkook x Reader (x Hoseok) | Series ➴ The moment you sauntered into the party, his gaze was locked in on your form. Everywhere you went, his eyes followed along, not wanting to lose you in the huge crowd of sweaty bodies. There was something about you that drove his instincts wild. Was it your scent? Your attitude? The manner in which you held yourself? He didn’t have a clue and he couldn’t have cared less, so long as you were his and his only. And he would do anything to make that happen.

��� Skirt Chasers by @koo1aid➴ University/F2L!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.”

❥ Milestone by @koo1aid➴ Brother’s Best Friend/University!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ Part of you is touched that Jungkook really has been there for every milestone in your life. The other part wishes he hadn’t shown up looking so ridiculously sexy.

❥ Blackjack by @kpopfanfictrash➴ Mafia/Lovers!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series ➴ Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out?

❥ Chasing Butterflies by @ddaenggtan➴ Nerd/Jock/University!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ You never meant to be a jock in school. the volleyball team had just needed people and you were there and then you had a knack for it. you just happened to be good at it and went with it. similar to how you saw jeon jungkook in your friend’s orientation group and thought he was absolutely radiant and just went with it. for two years. you’ve spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he’s around, but also because jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: the weebs. that is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it.

❥ Sugarplum Elegy by @bymoonchild➴ FWB/F2L!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

❥ DNA by @btssavedmylifeblr➴ Breeding/Dystopia!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ Jungkook’s career is in jeopardy when he begins falling for a woman he’s supposed to impregnate.

❥ Bite Me by @jeonsweetpea➴ Vampire/Fuckboy!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ You’re not very fond of your fuckboy blood donor, who’s an open masochist.

❥ Block Party by @minlucent➴ E2L/Neighbors/Fuckboy!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ Moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake.

❥ New Rules by @tayegi➴ University/Frat/Sports!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ //

❥ The Kids Aren’t Alright by @sketchguk➴ FWB/F2L!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ Sneaking around with Jeongguk during your Christian retreat is complicated when you’re both dedicated to your jobs as co-youth group counselors at your father’s ministry.

❥ The Fitting by @noona-la-la-la➴ Idol/Staff!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ The younger Jungkook has a workplace crush on you, but you let the flattery get to you and make a proposition you can’t take back.

❥ Sleepy by @floralseokjin➴ Lovers/Domestic!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ Jungkook’s never too sleepy for sex…

❥ Altar Boy by @gukptune➴ Church/Cult!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ Altar boys tend to serve a much higher purpose than lighting candles in the church, though those purposes may be seen as sinful in the eyes of god.

❥ Secret Slut by @jeonsweetpea➴ Office/Christmas!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Two-Shot➴ Jungkook accidentally gifts you, his boss, a sex toy for Secret Santa.

❥ What’s Mine is Mine by @avveh➴ Idol/Fangirl!AU | Jungkook x Reader | One-Shot➴ You caught his eye from day one. As far as Jungkook was concerned, you were always meant to be his.

❥ Lust and Errors by @imaginethisbts➴ Step-Siblings!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ Step brother, fuck buddy… They were one and the same now. But what started out as some mindless fucking game, quickly turns into something much more difficult and complex.

Maknae Line (x2/x3)

❥ Number 23 by fringesofsanity➴ BFF/FWB!AU | Jimin x Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ Your good friends - Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook - find your bucket list and helps you fulfill the 23rd item.

❥ The Pearl of the Temptation by vultras➴ Maid!AU | Jimin x Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ You are working as a maid when you’re suddenly in charge of cleaning the shared apartment of Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. One night you happen to be working late when Jimin stumbles into the apartment drunk. You help him to his room and he forces you to help him change out of his clothes. You try your best but you quickly realize the situation has turned for the worst when his erotic expressions turn you on- and what’s worse? Jungkook happens to be there egging you on… what started as an innocent job turns into something you only thought happened in dreams.

❥ Maid for You by @forgottenpasta➴ Idol/Maid!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ As Bangtan’s dorm maid you’re expected to be professional, your identity anonymous. Until Jeongguk finds you on your knees beside his bed, with his rolex in your hand.

❥ Right of Way by fringesofsanity➴ Infidelity!AU | Jimin x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ In theory, things were simple: your best friend was Jungkook’s girlfriend while your boyfriend, Jimin, was Jungkook’s best friend. In reality, things weren’t always that simple. And mutually exclusive.

❥ When You Least Expect It by @johobi➴ F2L!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

❥ Shameless by @imaginethisbts➴ Party/Voyeurism!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ Taehyung’s the new guy in town, just trying to make some friends. And when Jungkook invites him to a party, he thinks he’s finally gotten a good opportunity to meet some new people. But what he doesn’t expect is witnessing his new friend Jungkook and his girlfriend, you, getting it on in front of him, and all of the other guys, at this so-called party.  

❥ Clandestine by @ditzymax➴ Assassin!AU | Taehyung x Named OC x Jungkook | Series➴ As a professional assassin, Kim Kinsoo has many shrouded secrets in her life. Some of them she shares openly with her loving boyfriend, but there are other things he must never know.

❥ Jimin, Please Don’t Take My Man by @countrysundae & @hobiwonder➴ E2L/Office/Law!AU | Jimin x Reader x Jungkook | Two-Shot➴ And in that moment, you made the most selfish proclamation to yourself in your head, looking at the two men in front of you, one a devil and one an angel. You would make Jeon Jungkook yours - in some way, somehow. You would not let Park Jimin win this round.

❥ In the Dark by @caramelkth➴ FWB!AU | Jimin x Reader x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ Jungkook and Jimin have a very short attention span, and when you three are lost in the middle of nowhere with a truck that won’t drive, they find you to busy themselves with.

❥ Don’t Swallow by @gotmetalkinginmysleep➴ Idol/Poly!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Maknae? | One-Shot➴ Admitting your inner thoughts with your partner wasn’t a sensible idea.

❥ Money, Power, Respect by @minnpd➴ Married/Gang!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ //

❥ Cherry by @kpopstories ➴ FWB!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | Series❥➴ “Forgive me, ____.” He was whispering now. 

“We didn’t get back together.”You felt his hands skirt down your sides and it made you shiver a little. He was pressing his body against yours and his skin felt like the sun, warm and achingly pleasant. You were no longer worried about the wet clothes you had on, but only the scent of him. He smelled like rain and barely-there cologne and deodorant. He smelled like the man you had been sleeping with for months and who you hadn’t been with for two weeks. He smelled like desperation. Well, maybe you made that part up, but it felt right so you let him hug you tighter even as you asked,

“Are you still considering it?”

❥ House of Cards by @aiimaginesbts➴ Exes/Infidelity!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ A love from high school days lasted until marriage. Just not yours.

❥ The Doms Next Door by @tatertotthethot➴ Tattoo/Poly!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ In which you unknowingly accept the offer to become a tattoo model for the two, sexually-crazed men next door.

[kindaline]

FANFICTION TROPES; tier list

since i just announced an almost 2 week hiatus on wattpad, i wanted to post something writing (fanfiction) related here!

(i saw a youtuber do this, here’s the link to that vid xxx)

also because i can’t explain the way she did why she put certain ones higher or lower, i’ll just write a lil explanation for every one of them!

let’s get it! (woah been a while since ive said that jsjdajdf)

‘i- pls no’ category: 

amnesia fic; i just don’t really like this plot in anything, so this ain’t really a surprise tbh

arranged marriage; this fits the category name very well, just don’t pls... it’s not a fun dynamic to create romance by forcing characters together

baby fic; there are a few exceptions, but i usually don’t start reading something for it - but will keep reading a fic if its introduced further down the line

body swap; that is just a NO. that creates awkward and perverted situations, and i honestly hate both with a burning passion. to feel second-hand embarrassment is not why i read ffs.

major character death; i already am depressed af so i don’t need this in my life

fairytale au; i just don’t enjoy the magic element, i grew out of it pretty quick. the last time i liked something magical fairytale-ish related was when i was like 6.

gen fic; okay i did not know what this meant, but my hopeless romantc soul ain’t about that life kjdsnfdks

magic au; same thing could be said about this one and the fairytale one.

time loop; it’s just idk, not something i would read - even in shows i don’t really like it, since i think it makes the story hard to follow

pregnancy fic; as someone who reads mostly taekook and a few exceptions but still mlm fics i think that speaks for itself, not an mpreg kinda gal

sex pollen; this concept started out well, then went down the drain with the alien-y vibezz, other than that it would be good ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

‘depends on the execution’ category:

abo; i don’t really read abo unless im there for the smut tbh... (i do be getting real comfy here tho saying that kdfskdjf)

crossover; same goes for this as for the pregnancy fic one, i read bts fics so the only crossover we gettin’ is other kpop idols showing up aka jackson wang lmao

dark fic; although this is what you could categorize the story im writing but not publishing as of my ocs, as i said before im depressed af and dont need to be even more

canon divergence; i mean as a taekook fic writer this be what im doing with everyone of my stories dkjsfdjs

established relationship; i put this in this category bc i can’t execute it without it being boring since i build most of my plots around the relationship that’ll be the end result, but i do read it if someone manages to pull it off

fix it fic; i mean depends what we are fixing, bc in my context i be just going au all the way lmao

miscommunication; again, awkward situations are my worst nightmare so-

unhappy ending; i guess depends on how bad it is, if it ain’t like character death i can bear it

‘sure ¯\_(ツ)_/¯‘ category: (this a mood tho jdksj)

angst; i can take some of it, it be making things interesting - or like i use it to make things that lmao

bang or die; tbh i was this close to putting it higher... but also by ‘sure’ i mean that i’ll read it 9 out of 10 times so...

crack fic; for entertainment porpuses and an easy read (for ex. insta/twitter au) it’s good ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

humor; all stories should have at least a lil in them!

fake relationship; it’s arranged marriage’s long lost sister who is the less toxic version of that 

high school au; i read a ton of it since most aus are set in a school environment, but usually its not the main focus so ended up putting it here

in vino veritas; aka drunk confessions - it’s good, something you can spin things off of or help build the tension with (saying that like im a professional lmao)

unrequited love; i don’t read a lot of it, but i’ve read ones that keep up with that through 90% of the fic and it was good so thats a sure

‘i like it, its okay’ category

college au; as someone who’s written more than one and mostly reads taekook fics set in college that’s a yes from me, not something i am actively looking for tho

fluff; i write and read it, sometimes i melt from it sometimes i don’t ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

first kiss; i’ve done this almost every time in my fics, sooooo-

historical au; IF ITS DONE WELL ITS GOOD AF!! (my hamilton phase having ass thrives off of it kjfdskfjsv)

missing scenes; i think as someone who writes taekook and includes actual moments of them in my stories i kind of have to fill up the missing pieces of said cute moments so i do this, and see others do so as well

royalty au; i don’t read a lot of it, but sign me up for some majestic beauty of a kim taehyung being royalty anytime

slow burn; don’t read much of it on wattpad, but all my fav ao3 fics are slow burn and like a lot of words ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

love triangle; i don’t openly say this or anything but i do read it from time to time and enjoy it those times so...

‘LUW IT’ category:

sharing a bed; if you look at my reading lists on wattpad you’ll know why this is here ksjfsjfk

mutual pining; i do be writing this each and everytime without even meaning to, so that also explains why this is here

coffee shop au; AS THE WRITER OF STUDY SESSIONS, no but really i do be writing and reading a lot of it lmao

enemies to lovers; read a lot of it, love it a lot - fav ao3 fics are almost all enemies to lovers soooo-

friends to lovers; all my favs are either enemies to lovers, friends to lovers or bed sharing ones i-

hurt comfort; my heartu we luw luw emotionally supporting others in this house

huddle for warmth; sharing a bed and this go hand in hand and we love to see it

pwp; i *cough* yeahhhhhh, just yeahhhh

soulmate au; we love soma-ultes lfjskdjfksdjf

and that would be it! <3 

until my hiatus ends on wattpad i hope to be more active on here, so the ppl who follow me with tumblr accounts can be happy lmao

[eijiroukiriot]

After Months of saying i would i’m finally posting about my Kiribaku playlist! I’ve linked it before but I’ve never really gone into what the songs mean to me and how I see them in relation to the boys, and I think the explanations puts things into perspective, so I typed it all out!

This is my main krbk playlist - I also have playlists for Bakugou and Kirishima separately - and this focuses mostly on happier songs (and a few that are so ingrained into how I see them that I had to put them in anyway). I also have an angst-themed krbk playlist and post-breakup playlists for each of them! Really I just. love music and love seeing characters I like in it so this is fun for me 

Spotify Link

song descriptions under the cut!

i typed up all of this after 1 a.m. last night so not only is it very long it’s also somewhat incoherent but these songs mean a lot to me so if you’re down to read it then thank you!!

note: a few of these songs aren’t available on spotify at the moment but they’re so crucial to the Vibe that i’ve still included them here!

i. I Always Knew - The Vaccines

“So let’s go to bed, before we say something real - 

Let’s go to bed, before we say how we feel” 

-this is my Ultimate krbk song, man. the first time i heard it i was walking to class and i just had to stop on the sidewalk and take a Big deep breath. everything abt the lyrics fits them so well - i’ve talked about this before but the verses and prechoruses really capture that “being young and stupid and tiptoeing around your emotions” feeling, then the chorus hits and it just SOARS, and really, has there ever been a sentiment that fits them more than “it’s always been you” 

ii. Fly Me to the Moon/Lucky - Rick Hale

“Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore - 

Tell me I’m the lucky one you worship and adore” 

-I have an extreme soft spot for these boys and love songs. and this has been a part of my fic writing playlists for so long that it always makes me think of them. I don’t even have a lot to say by way of lyrics, this is a full atmosphere pick 

iii. If My Heart Was A House - Owl City

“Circle me and the needle moves gracefully back and forth -

If my heart was a compass, you’d be north” 

-boy if this song doesn’t make me think of bkg every time!! it’s the transition from the prechorus into the chorus that gets me - it starts so quiet, like there’s so much love inside of you that you’re still trying to keep down, and then the “bombs away” is the moment when you decide to stop running and just embrace it, and the chorus comes in so loud and strong and so thoroughly in love. call me a sap (spoilers: i do that myself multiple times here) but it really does remind me of what it must be like when bkg just...decides to let himself have this. and then i feel dumb bc this is about anime boys who are like not in love in canon at all but inside the intricate Kiribaku Canon i have built in my head oh yeah this is how bkg falls in love

iv. Knock Three Times - Tony Orlando

“One floor below me, you don’t even know me - I love you” 

-this is just the prime soundtrack for a college AU where kirishima’s dorm is right above bkg’s and he’s in Love with him. And Also, something about the bold retro vibe makes me think of kirishima, but that almost certainly a me thing! still a big bop though 

v. Intergalactic Disco - Interlunium

“So, with stars in our eyes, let’s fly through the glowing galaxies” 

-again, a big sappy atmosphere pick! i really do love the imagery in this one and the storyline of playing things off as just having a good time until it turns out the other person is as deeply in love as you are. it really is just That Song! please stan interlunium

vi. Animal - Neon Trees

“Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends” 

-the ENERGY in this song!! the loud, highkey, driving beat! the vibes of being young and stupid and stumbling through having feelings for someone equally as inexperienced with love as you are! and yet the fact that we KNOW both of them would run full-force with it once they realize they both want it! the lyrics to this one do get a bit spicy but it’s really the high school crush energy in this one that gets me 

vii. If You Wanna - The Vaccines

“I don't want to do things independently, but I can't make you stay -

That's what all the friends I do not like as much as you say...but if you wanna come back it's alright”

-the ENERGY in this SONG!!!! the electric guitar and the chorus so long you think he’ll run out of breath! bkg getting so fed up with being so close to kirishima’s face and not being able to kiss it that he takes the dive and goes for it and then goes to run away until kirishima yells WAIT- IF YOU WANNA COME BACK IT’S ALRIGHT!!!

viii. No One Like You - Best Coast

“Been around this crazy world, but I still wanna be your girl - 

Cause there’s no one like you.” 

-I feel like...if krbk had a cheesy high school romcom, and everything led up to a big dance at the end, and at the very end the camera panned out as they finally caved into each other and went onto the floor to do that slow dance, this would be the song. This is their slow dance 

-seriously like 70% of the lyrics to this song are “there’s no one like you” which is really, once again, just the Pinnacle of krbk 

ix. Idfc - Blackbear

“'Cause I have hella feelings for you -

I act like I don't fucking care, 'cause I'm so fucking scared” 

-the bkg energy in this song...the self doubt and the pining but the deep-seated belief that you don’t deserve this, even though you’re so close, even though he keeps telling you he loves you- but how could he, he has to be lying, and why would you even care, you don’t care about people like this- you never have, until now...oh this song is just DRIPPING in it

x. My Best Friend’s Hot - The Dollyrots

“Won’t you apologize to me, to me, to me? For being such a tease, a tease, a tease” 

-it’s a song about being pissed at your oblivious hot best friend who you have a huge crush on! they might as well have credited the lyrics to bakugou katsuki 

xi. Stay by My Side - Twice

“I can’t hold it back anymore - 

I can’t even believe how much I love you” 

-it’s Cheesy Romance! it’s cheesy romance that’s all this is!!! this one is pure michigan cheese!!!!! 

xii. Love Line - Twice

“With you by my side, I wanna take a shot, take a walk on the love line” 

-again this is a very me pick! this one’s been sitting around on my writing playlists for a long time and i’ve come to really associate it w these Boys. the member who wrote the lyrics has said it was about her first crush and it’s generally about just. being So enamored with someone you can’t stop thinking about them. and i’m a big sap so you know where that goes 

xiii. Maybe (Luck of the Draw) - The Vaccines

“There’s nobody else like you, there’s nobody else like you -

And if there’s nobody else like you, then maybe I want to spend my life with you” 

-this one always sounds to me like krbk growing up, spending late nights both awake in the dimly-lit kitchen of their second apartment, watching the hours tick by on the microwave clock as they just talk and argue and make each other laugh and slowly realizing that this is by no means perfect but there’s no one else they’d rather keep getting old with...i feel like this is another end credits song for them, you know? 

xiv. I’m Totally Obsessed with Him - Matt Fishel

“He’s in my heart, he’s in my lungs - he’s in everything that I touch” 

-matt fishel deserves SO much more than he gets i mean LISTEN to this huge campy gay anthem about being just extremely an unapologetically in love with your big gay boyfriend!!!! i feel bad making pride anthems like this about anime boys but i’m also gay and i’m here to say that the absolute SCALE of this - the explosion of electricity and infatuation and campy guitar in the chorus - this one has BIG kirishima energy. words can’t do it justice just please please listen to this one 

xv. Slayers - Matt Fishel (again lol) 

“We’re in this together, you and I -

Hand in hand, side by side, unbreakable” 

-It’s a song about being in love with someone who you see as your total partner, you rely on each other and protect each other and you’re with each other through everything, and it’s written through the lens of a fantasy story - this one always, always makes me think of the two of them in the fantasy AU, sworn partners for life, able to rise above any challenges in their path, flying into the sunset together after a long day of adventures, so happy that it seems to make the world spin 

-this really may be the most krbk song i’ve ever heard so please listen to it, 

-i played it for my krbk friend once and when he said unbreakable they started screaming

xvi. Hooked On a Feeling - Blue Swede

“I’m high on believing you’re in love with me -

I said, I’m hooked on a FEELING!!!!!”

-picture this: class A crammed into a karaoke room for a party, kirishima standing up in front of the scream and screaming “THIS ONE’S FOR YOU BKG” and belting out the entire thing, slightly off pitch but FULL of spirit, every time ‘girl’ comes up in the lyrics he sings ‘bakugou’ really really fast (‘I CAN’T STOP THIS FEELING, deep inSIIIde of me, bakugouyoujust don’t reallize!!! what you do to me!!!!”) and everyone is whooping and hollering along except bkg who gets so red that nobody can tell if it’s angry embarrassment or in love god just so in love embarrassment 

-it’s hooked on a feeling it has such loud kirishima energy do i have to explain myself here

xvii. Everyday I Love You - ViVi (Loona) 

“If only you liked me - if only you loved me

Like a fool, I think only of you” 

-note 1: stan loona

-note 2: this song is just such a sweet picture of pining!! imagining the stolen glances and ‘hopeless’ crush feeling when (in some AU where they both have. less emotional hangups the first time they meet) they first meet,, i can’t explain it for this one even it just makes me so soft 

xviii. Crush - Weki Meki

“This feeling- like I’m losing, it’s hurting my pride

But I can’t help it, I’m so curious that I’m going crazy” 

-i’m sure you can tell by now that i. Really like kpop but the first time i read the lyrics to this one i lost it! there are really too many lyrics than i can fit here that remind me of how bkg sees kirishima when he first realizes it’s really a crush that’s making him act like this - i really recommend that you take a look at the translation for this one!! it really has it all - being mad at your crush for how they make your heart pound, feeling like it’s hurting your pride, “it’s not like me to be circling around you like this, i’m gonna make a move”, the line about how “i’ll be better to you than anyone else” - seriously, i cannot exaggerate the bkg energy in these lyrics 

xix. Kimi Janakya Dame Mitai - Masayoshi Ohishi

“I want to get to know you more and more - but that kind of line doesn’t really fit me” 

-aaaand here’s a song that radiates EXTREME Kirishima Energy!! everything from the vibrant guitar to the big belted chorus to the lyrics about being, like, confused but absolutely buzzing and just wanting to be with them - it’s loud and bright and awkward but THRILLED about every part of it!!

-it, of course, helps that the title essentially means “it’s gotta be you” 

xx. I Do Adore - Mindy Gledhill

“Everything you do - it sends me higher than the moon” 

-like….is there a more classic song to associate with your favorite stupid pining high schoolers ship 

-don’t get me wrong i KNOW this one is cliche and i KNOW there’s other ships this fits better but i’m soft don’t @ me 

xxi. Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You - Frankie Valli

-legally this song is only Half in the playlist bc spotify likes taking it down and putting it back up at random but after writing fly me i can’t NOT think abt krbk when i hear it. i have no further justification 

-also imagine kirishima being loud and embarrassing and singing this song to bkg all the time

xxii. Television/So Far So Good - Rex Orange County 

“I don't know, no, I don't know what you like,

But if you're looking for something new, I know somebody that you could choose: 

What about me?” 

-what about MEEEEEEEEeeeeeEEEe 

-i think it’s that driving guitar rhythm that makes this one for me. it just sounds so...ready to take on this weird new feeling of knowing how perfectly things could go with someone if you both just took the jump. it sounds very kirishima. 

-the content does start changing as it keeps going but those first few minutes and the RAP VERSE really have such bubbly dumb teenage ‘it’s our first time feeling like this and it might be a little too serious for us but why don’t we take the leap i’m sure it’ll be worth it’ vibes. it really feels like the first “what about me???” in the chorus should be accompanied by kirishima sprinting up to bkg and lifting him up and kissing him because he’s so caught up in this feeling

xxiii. Sweet Talk - Saint Motel

“When you laugh, I forget that it’s about me 

But it’s alright - cause being your punchline still is something” 

-we all know this is a krbk song, everyone knows it’s a krbk song, my non-bnha friend who I annoy constantly w krbk stuff knows this is a krbk song, honestly do I even have to explain why? it contains the line “you could yell ‘piss off, won’t you stay away’ - it’d still be sweet talk to my ears” and we All know how whipped kirishima already is 

xxiv. Into The Storm - Banners

“Through night and dark, through fantasies that fall apart,

Know you're always in my heart, anywhere you go” 

-Unconditional love! Working through the hard times together! and knowing these two, there have been & will be no shortage of hard times to work through. it’s that loyalty and devotion that makes this one. 

xxv. Talk Too Much - COIN

“Stay cool, it’s just a kiss - so, why you gotta be so talkative?” 

-when it comes down to it bkg and kirishima are two idiot 16 year olds who have never been in love before so you know they’re gonna stumble a lot when they first get together. i don’t know how to explain it but i think this really captures that

-also i feel like this is a pretty staple krbk song! i see it on so many playlists

xxvi. If I Tremble - Front Porch Step

“And if I tremble at the sight of you, it’s not because I’m cold -

It’s because I’m staring at the girl I want to love me when I’m old” 

-that idea of the kind of love you want to last forever, knowing the person you want to grow old with...I honestly don’t like this one for them that much anymore but it Did make me cry the first time I thought about it so it gets to stay. tbh when I’m soft enough it still gets me 

xxvii. Cold Cold Man - Saint Motel

“You’re the only one worth seeing, the only place worth being -

The only bed worth sleeping is the one right next to you” 

-Saint Motel is just krbk culture at this point, this is another staple krbk song. I mean, the core theme is “I know I’m an asshole but I love you more than anyone” - come ON

xxviii. Wonderful Things - Ryan Corn

“So you say you wanna grab hold - well to hold, you’ve gotta let go

Of the only way you may have ever known” 

-is this song about god? maybe. is it about krbk? Oh absolutely 

-the themes of not knowing what you’d do without the other person in your life, and looking back on the person you were able to become because of them, and that lyric up there always makes me think of Kamino - it’s just all around got the themes and I’m very soft about that

xxix. Bad Enough For You - All Time Low 

“You love to hate me when I'm chasing you, 

And I hate to say this, but I'm stuck on loving you” 

-Okay this is totally 12-year-old me talking here but hear me out: Bakugou being convinced Kirishima could never like him more than this weird half-flirting thing they’ve come to and also being scared that he’d never be good enough for him, but him as he is now is letting them HAVE this half-flirting thing, so...he keeps it up, even though he wishes he could be the one to treat him how he deserves to be treated, but there’s no way he could be Kirishima’s boyfriend anyway so what’s the point in caring (but kirishima loved him the WHOLE TIME!!! they sort things out before long lol)

-also they’re both 16 and emo so. 

xxx. Instead of My Room - Charlie Burg 

“Can't we just put on Ramones? And we'll drive

And I'll kiss you, in my car, instead of my room” 

-if kirishima wrote songs with kaminari and sero during high school, i think they’d sound like this

-the lyrics to this one are just so Fun! it’s goofy and jokey and just having a good time! i can’t make the lyrics line up as much as i’d like them to but it really just sounds like them to me 

xxxi. I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing - Aerosmith 

“I don’t wanna close my eyes -

I don’t wanna fall asleep, cause I’d miss you, babe” 

-i have exactly 2 krbk moods and one is “they are stupid. 16 and loud and just so dumb” and the other is “this is Love love, they’re gonna live off this forever” 

-kirishima looking over at bkg fast asleep the night after their wedding and feeling so wholly in love that he cries 

xxxii. Stutter - Marianas Trench

“So here I am - you can take or leave me,

But I won't ever be anywhere but here” 

-If krbk starred in a mid-2000s battle of the bands romcom with a car chase scene this is the song that would play in the trailer (I KNOW that’s crazy specific but that’s the image I always get when I hear this) 

xxxiii. Must Have Done Something Right - Reliant K 

“If anyone could make me a better person, you could -

All I gotta say is I must have done something good” 

-i feel like i’m 13 when i hear this song but it’s really really Them

-really i think the thing that keeps me so invested in krbk is that they’re so involved with each other’s character arcs - they’re constantly making each other better people, each of them is like a missing piece for the other, and they’re both so wrapped up in their own shortcomings that they barely even realize how big of an impact they’re having on the other. but really they would never be the same if they hadn’t met. and that’s the entirety of this song’s content

xxxiv. Deer in the Headlights - Owl City 

“Tell me again, was it love at first sight

When I walked by and you caught my eye?” 

-there is literally nothing in the lyrics that makes me think of them. this one is 100% for the vibe. and also kinda the lyrics in the chorus. like, being taken aback by how suddenly everything is happening but in a very excited and enthusiastic way. things don’t go Smoothly when they confess, persay, but oh man is it memorable (and loud and sweaty and hoarse-throated but never, ever sad) 

xxxv. On and On (About You) - Bowling For Soup 

“Now you can scream about the little things, slap me twice across the face,

Man it would be great if I could buy you flowers every day” 

-this is really middle school me speaking here BUT: 

-krbk don’t exactly work out in high school and end with some big fight but with time they both realize they were wrong and when they finally meet again at a class reunion they both wanna get back together but they’re still arguing and shooting quick remarks at each other but the whole time they’re thinking “man, if i could, i’d buy you flowers every day” 

xxxvi. Mamma Mia - ABBA

-it’s mamma mia. it’s just mamma mia

-it’s also kirishima’s inner monologue every time he thinks he’s finally kicked his crush on bkg and then he sees him for 0.1 seconds and falls right back in 

xxxvii. I Dare You - The Regrettes

“I can't seem to sleep, and I feel my pulse beating

I wanna keep all my control, but you're the one that brings the sun” 

-maybe it just reminds me of the music video song in quote love unquote but the second i heard this song i was like oh yeah that’s kiribaku

-the idea of trying to catch yourself as you feel yourself falling but also choosing to make the jump in the first place! the idea that you’re taking a big chance but things are so much better together that you’re not scared! you’re even pushing yourself forward! it’s truly for them 

xxxviii. I Want to Hold Your Hand - the version from Yesterday

-like, fuck the beatles but it’s a song about hand holding. come on 

xxxix. Love At First Sight - The Brobecks

“Turn the lights off, I’m in love” 

-that lyric has happened in canon. that lyric is the context of why bkg went to bed at 8:32 pm that one time 

-it’s such a sweet mix of being scared about falling in love but also...feeling like the world just got a little brighter, and kinda letting yourself sink into it in reluctant acceptance because it just feels so good? kinda hitting the same notes as If My Heart Was A House. idk the first time i heard this i thought abt the girl i have a crush on so i was like “nope. nope. refocus this to krbk” 

xxxx. Holliday - The Weekend Run Club 

“I'd never been so soaked before

I was drenched in your arms, dancing in your downpour” 

-this was on my discover weekly last week and I put it on here without thinking about it and now I”m really listening to it for the first time and. wow. Wow. 

-you know the scenario i’ve been bringing up this whole time of taking a leap into something awkward and electric that makes you happier than you could imagine? that’s the energy i’m getting from this

-just imagining krbk being out on their first date and it starts pouring so they duck inside and they’re like “well...should we just go back?” and then realize it’s so much more like them to run out into the downpour and get soaked and kirishima’s losing his mind laughing and bkg’s like “what are you so happy about idiot” and kirishima’s just like “i don’t know. i just really like this. i just really like you” and then they’re both kinda floating on air

[shreddedparchment]

To Be Seen

02/26/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader          Word Count: 9,079

*Masterpost in Notes

Warnings: language, smut, angst, alcohol consumption, drunk sex

A/N: So, this turned into something I wasn’t expecting. I haven’t edited it because I’m hurting and I don’t have the energy to go back and fix it. So please excuse the typos if there are any. There probably are. I’ll come back and fix it all when I feel better. I’m thinking this will be a mini-series because I don’t want to leave the characters yet and would like to explore them some more. I hope y’all like it. As always if you reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You're heartbroken.

The agony ripping through your chest you’ve known before. You’re familiar with rejection. Over the years the bitter sting of once again not being enough to be wanted or desired has become a toxic friend.

Rather than every wound healing to make you stronger, it has only broken you more. Conditioned you into a fearful and hopeless response when your eye is caught by some person or other.

It's also not like you fall often. It takes you ages to move on. Which leaves you caught in the limbo of pining for someone you know you can never have.

You sniffle, overcome with sorrow as you replay the soft expression on his face. His name doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that as you sat beside him in the small local park, body burning from being so close to him on the stone bench you’d first met, you’d been happy to just be near him.

He was no Adonis. It's not like he had movie star good looks or that he was some ideal that everyone wished for. What he was, was nice. He was sweet and considerate and funny. He had gorgeous green eyes and a soft smile.

His teeth weren’t perfect, but they didn’t make him less attractive to you. They were normal. He was normal. Extraordinary because you cared about him.

After two months of getting to know him, two months over which you fell more and more for him, your crush taking solid hold, you’d done what you swore you wouldn’t do again.

After last time you should have learned your lesson.

“I like you.” Your soft voice, uncertain and barely confident had seeped out those dreaded words without your permission.

He'd made you laugh, made you feel safe, and without your consent you confessed.

The stunned silence that followed had been stressful. Your hands were suddenly numb and your heart had stalled completely as you and he were suspended in unbearable awkwardness.

You’d wanted to take your words back. You hadn’t truly been ready to tell him. You'd just gotten caught up in the moment. Stupid!

Then he'd turned to you, watching you with those stunning eyes and you recognized the guilty shift.

“I…I’m flattered, Y/N but I-"

He was so sorry to say it, sorry to hurt you. Why did this always happen? Why you? What was wrong with you? What were you missing?

You weren’t the most outgoing but with the people you liked you were an open book. You were polite about it, speaking your mind while being considerate to respect the opinions of everyone else. You rarely lost your temper and when you did you never misdirected it and let someone else feel your rage.

You weren't a genius, but you had your smarts. In your own way you were pretty. You didn’t think you were lacking there. Perhaps your beauty, what you saw when you looked in the mirror, wasn't enough?

You'd always been grateful for what you had. Maybe you weren’t a supermodel, but you were you. You had your own charms. Or did you?

Why couldn’t any of them see you? Why couldn’t they, just once, like you back?

You'd quickly reminded him that he'd said he had an appointment, by which you knew he meant date, before he could finish his sentence.

You hadn’t wanted to hear another speech about how you were sweet or so nice or such a good friend.

He’d continued to stare at you until you gestured behind him where a girl, much closer to a supermodel than you were with her flowing blonde beach waves, large sweet smile, and big blue eyes had stood waiting in a short white and pastel blue floral dress.

You’d compared yourself to her even though you knew you shouldn’t. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t right. You were you and she was herself…but why her? Why not you?

“You should go, your appointment is waiting.”

“Y/N…?” He'd said, that guilt in his voice twisting your gut.

“Don’t keep her waiting. It's not polite. Especially when she can see you sitting with another girl. Even if there’s nothing between you and the other girl it can cause misunderstandings.” You gave him a quick smile, trying to ease his conscience but failing.

“Y/N…”

“Please, just go.” You’d quietly begged almost losing your voice completely as you’d turned your gaze down onto his hands which had slid towards you, but he still wouldn’t reach out.

You knew he wouldn’t and still part of you had hoped.

He’d risen slowly and you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. They were always nice guys. They always hated to hurt you. But they always hurt you any way. It wasn’t their fault. You know that.

They hadn’t made you like them. They hadn’t made you confess. You’d done it on your own and so the heartbreak had always been on you. As much as you wanted to hate him, as much as you wanted to be the one who was in the right, you had never been and never will be. He hadn’t led you on. He hadn’t made promises and broken them. All he’d done was be nice. You’d fallen for him all on your own.

Maybe this time you’d finally learn your lesson?

“We’re not done talking about this, Y/N.” He’d said sternly as if he were trying to settle that your confession was more important than you both knew it really was.

You’d known the truth of what he was doing. If he’d really cared, if it had really mattered, no other girl could have kept him from reaching out to you right then, in that moment. It’s not like he was married or in a relationship. He’d told you he was single. Had it really mattered that you’d just told him you liked him, he’d have apologized to the other girl and the two of you would have talked.

Instead he continued to stare down at you.

“Y/N?” He’d repeated with more authority, but you were unmoved.

“Just go. She’s getting upset.” He’d followed your gaze and sure enough the pretty blonde was standing with a frown on her face, contorting her beautiful smile into a nasty pout.

To you she hadn’t looked so beautiful right then, but it was enough to finally pull him away.

“We’ll talk later.” He’d insisted one final time before he turned and hurried to his date.

You’d watched him place his hands on her biceps. She’d pouted a bit more prettily as he got closer, and he’d pulled her in for a quick hug before leading her out of the park without glancing back.

He’d left you sitting on the bench, staring across the small and worn brick path at the small pond where birds, squirrels, and other small wildlife gathered during the daytime, unafraid of human presence.

You hate thinking about it again and again, but it replays itself in your head over and over.

You kick the ground, scuffing up your sneaker as you sniffle again then reach up to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Very attractive.

You haven’t cried much this time which is a big improvement to your last crush.

“I’ll never like anyone ever again.” You grumble forlornly as you kick the ground again, dislodging a brick and smacking your toe. “Ow!”

You fold your leg up and quickly curl both hands around your large right toe. It feels like you’ve broken it. It’s throbbing and hot. You really want to take off your shoe.

“Oh, sorry. Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude.” A deep rumbling baritone hits your ears like a soothing song.

You sniffle again, hating your runny nose and look up for the source of the intrusion to your multilayered and self-inflicted torture.

You should be shocked by what you see because you’ve never seen any of the Avengers in person, well except for Mr. Stark. However, you’re not shocked. In fact you look down at your foot before lowering it back to the ground as you wiggle your big toe. Definitely not broken.

“You’re not intruding.” He speaks in a funny cadence, accented. It’s pleasing.

You look at him again as you sniffle once more. He’s tall, really tall. He’d tower over you, your head barely reaching his chest if you stand up. He’s large too. Muscles rippling underneath a black heather shirt as he stops his casual walk and slowly shoves his hands into the front pockets of his black jeans. His brown leather boots look the newest. They’re dark and glossy. He’s also wearing a watch—why would he need a watch?—and a few silver rings on his fingers. Large manly rings. Has he acclimated so much to living here with the team that he’s taken to caring about Earth’s fashion?

Your eyes roam over the exposed skin of his clavicle, the two top buttons of his shirt left unbuttoned flashing browned peach skin. He’s so tan. His short blonde hair and full but well-manicured beard looks almost brown save for the soft golden flecks that the sun illuminates as he teeters back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“I felt as if I was.” He insists. “May I join you?”

“It’s a free country.” You counter with a final sniffle. “Mostly.”

He smiles sweetly, no teeth, just a soft curve of his full pink lips. They’re wide and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He seems to genuinely be smiling at you as he moves over to you and sits to your left. He’s large closer. He takes up a lot of space.

You turn your gaze back across the path to the pond and wonder about the heat radiating off of his body. Is it an Asgardian thing?

“I am Thor, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You introduce yourself simply. He won’t remember you later anyway. “And I know who you are, Mr. Thor.”

That sounds weird.

“Please, just Thor.” He waves off your formality. “Hold on, how do you know who I am?”

“Doesn’t everyone know the Avengers?” You shrug and look up a little higher at the beautiful wine, grape, and pearl colored butterfly flowers across the pond.

“Oh, right.”

You feel a little guilty about not being a hundred percent truthful, so you come clean.

“I uh…I also work in the compound.” Your hesitancy draws his brow to a pucker, and you stare this time, his confusion looks funny and for a moment you forget today’s disappointment.

“I have never seen you before. What department do you work for?”

“You wouldn’t have seen me, I’m kept in the back. Hidden from view. I fix everyone’s suits. Me and a few other people. Did you think Captain America’s Kevlar just magically stitched itself back up?” You tease.

“Sort of. Is it a hard job?” He rests his hands beside his thighs, leaning forward as he attempts to get a better look at your face.

“Just a thankless one. I fix your cape and then you just go and tear it again.”

“You have fixed my cape?” He asks, astonished. You know why. Asgardian material is difficult to work with sometimes. When the tears are too big you’ve had to find a weave that is similar.

“Every time you’ve torn it. I had to shorten it a few times and fill it in with some of the stuff we have here on Earth. You know, if you want to make my job easier, next time you happen to be around whatever provides the thread and material for your cape, you’d remember to bring me some.” You feel distracted enough that you smile at him kindly.

It doesn’t reach your eyes and he seems to see that because he frowns.

Feeling exposed, you turn tender eyes back onto the pond and shift uneasily in your seat.

“I shall keep that in mind.” He assures you. “Is something wrong? When I found you, it appeared as if you had been crying.”

Damn.

“Your eyes are still red.” He continues relentlessly.

You sigh and cross your arms across your chest, hating to be so obvious.

“If you do not wish to tell me-”

“I don’t.” You reply quickly. “But…it’s no secret. I’m kind of a loser when it comes to romance and I confessed to a guy I was crushing on.”

“Crushing on?” Thor asks, that cute look of confusion shaping his chiseled features again.

“Someone that I have an interest in being with. Someone I like.” You explain gently.

“Ah. What is wrong with confessing? Unless of course he…Oh. I see.” Thor realizes what must have happened.

“He doesn’t feel the same way.” You confirm for him and he turns to look out across the path at the pond too. “It’s a stupid reason to cry.”

“Love is a very powerful emotion. The strongest, I would say.”

“I don’t love him.”

Your eyes are suddenly wide as you think about the big ‘L’ word. You definitely don’t love him.

“Perhaps not, but an attraction that would bring one to tears is sure to have been deep and with the potential for love. It is a sad thing to lose. A terrible hope to crush. I am sorry that this man did not return your affections.”

Thor’s right of course. And as he talks about the potential you’d seen with him, the future that now you know for sure is lost forever, you feel your chest give way again and let the pain back in.

Your lip trembles and your eyes spring with large salty tears. You turn away from Thor, angling your body towards the small empty gazebo. It’s surrounded on all sides by wild flowers and tall grass. It’s picturesque and pretty but you don’t see it. All you see is your rejection. Not just this one. All of them. This isn’t so much about him anymore. It’s about all of them. One after the other. Blow after blow. How much more can you take?

You jump slightly as a warm graze prompts you to turn back towards your left. Thor’s hand rests against the side of your bicep with a neatly folded handkerchief clutched between his thumb and forefinger.

After staring at the small square for a few seconds, you look up at Thor expecting to find him watching you but he’s not. His eyes are courteously trained across the pond to give you your privacy. You take the piece of fabric and carefully unfurl it.

“Thank you.” You offer thickly.

“You are most welcome.”

You wipe your cheeks and eyes first then your nose before balling the fabric into your hand. You’re not handing it back to him until you’ve washed it. Gross.

“This place is charming. I’ve never seen such a collection of flowers in one location. Not like this.” He gestures around at the way the flowers grow in whichever direction they want to among other flowers that look nothing alike. The wild grass and the barely maintained pathways all lend to the beauty of the garden.

“It’s a wild flower garden. It’s maintained by some of the locals and they plant new flowers every season. Some spring up on their own. The point is not to control it but to let it grow on its own. It’s pretty.”

You’re suddenly smiling again, glancing around at the numerous flowers and the way their contrasting colors oddly compliment each other. The soft song of bluebirds, common sparrows, and cardinals fills the air pleasantly once again, for a moment, making you forget your sadness.

“That it is. Very beautiful.” His voice is soft as velvet and quiet so that only you might hear him.

Suddenly, you spot a bright red cardinal. It stops first on a stone in the pond then flitters over to the gazebo and hops forward along the railing.

Quickly you turn to Thor to see if he’s seen it too but instead find him watching you. “Did you see-What? What is it?”

You reach up to quickly wipe at your nose and then at your cheeks. Had you made a mess of yourself?

“Nothing.” Thor says with a shake of his head. “So, who was this man who rejected you? A fool no doubt?”

Great. You’re back on this topic. “Just one of the guys from work. No one important.”

“That cannot be true if he has made you shed tears like this. Shall I give him a stern talking to? Perhaps he simply needs a guiding hand to lead him down the proper path?” Thor offers, the threat clear in his tone though it’s slightly teasing and the smirk on his lips affirms the joke.

“Really, he’s just another guy. It doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it and then I’ll probably fall for another guy who won’t like me back and I’ll repeat this process over and over. It’s my own personal time loop. Doomed to repeat the same mistake again and again, somehow expecting a different result. Which means I’m crazy. So, I’m fucked.”

You sigh heavily and beside you, Thor answers you with his own long sigh. “Hmmmm.”

Watching him, you can see the cogs in his brain turning.

“I need a drink.” He concludes. “And I do not like to drink alone but my friends are away on mission. Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to the local bar?”

“Me?” You laugh because it sounds stupid. You and Thor in a bar? Drinking? If anyone from work saw you out with him it would cause quite a lot of gossip. Not that you care about the gossip. It’s just strange.

“Yes. I have enjoyed our brief conversation and would like to continue. I beg you, do not let me drink alone. Join me. I shall pay.” He asks again.

“I don’t know, Thor…” A drink sounds great but you’re also a terribly emotional drunk. “I’m not exactly a stable drunk.”

“You need not get drunk. Just one drink to relax and forget your trouble for a few hours. That is all I ask.”

“Thor…”

“Please! Please join me. I will not take no for an answer. Unless you really do not wish to go in which case, I cannot force you though I will be very lonely and depressed to be drinking without you at my side.”

You watch the uncertain expression on his face and measure up his invitation and the look of sincerity on his face. His lips suddenly curve into a very small pout and you laugh. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“Excellent. We shall imbibe into the wee hours of the night and laugh and celebrate with great joy that I have made a new friend and that you are rid of your crush and shall soon find a man worthy of your affections.”

“Right.” You sigh again, highly doubtful that he might ever be close to right.

Thor rises and towers over you as he offers you his large hands. Your stomach twists nervously. Are you making a mistake? What if you become a mess after having a few drinks? It would be so embarrassing to fall to pieces in front of Thor. It would be embarrassing to fall to pieces in front of anyone, but especially Thor since now he knows who you are and that you work at the compound.

You carefully slide both of your hands into his. They’re calloused and warm. Rough, manly hands but soothing in their heat. He closes his around yours, devouring them in their enormity, and gently gives you a tug to your feet.

“Promise me something?” You ask him as you fall into the space before him, turning your chin up to look at him with pleading eyes.

“Anything, Y/N.” His lips curve into that sweet soft smile from before and you can’t believe how close he is. This man is an Adonis. Perfect and so out of your league that your mind and body reject the idea of him immediately. The thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

“Please don’t let me get drunk. I’d hate to do something stupid now that you know I work for Mr. Stark.”

“I promise, on my honor, I shall keep you safe and ensure that you do not become intoxicated.” He drops his hands and with his hefty assurance, you follow.

The world is spinning. You can feel strong hot hands hovering around your waist as you spin in circles, blurring the room around you. You can still vaguely hear the steady and bopping beat of Deniece Williams’s ‘Let’ Hear It for the Boy’. It fills your body with unbridled joy, and you can’t fight the rhythm as it prompts you into a final spin.

A deep chuckle reaches your ears making your chest feel warm. You look for it’s source and find Thor standing before you, his eyes focused on you completely but he’s a lot shorter. How did he get down there?

“Hey…” You slur and reach down to place your hands on his wide shoulders. They’re so firm. You give them a squeeze. “How’d you get so short?”

Thor’s smile widens. “Perhaps your drink had a potion to make you taller?”

“We don’t have potions here on Earth, silly.” You giggle as his joke makes no sense.

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.” He blinks slowly, smiling softly up at you. “Then perhaps you should come down from the table and we might correct my height. However, if I am honest, I cannot say that I mind this view.”

You’re not sure what his words mean. You shut one eye, watching him in confusion. Is he flirting? It kinda sounds like he is but your mind is so befuddled that you can’t decipher his meaning.

“You like being short?” You stupidly surmise.

“If it means that I can look up at you, why not?”

What the hell does that mean? Frustrated, you semi-explode. Luckily, you’re not a screamer when you drink. You’re just prone to strong shifts of emotion.

“Are you flirting with me?!”

Thor laughs. “I might be. Come down. I would hate it if you fell down and hurt yourself.”

“Okay.” You laugh like an idiot and with his hands firmly held on your waist you let him lead you first down onto the seat of your booth and then onto solid ground. “Woah.”

You sway unsteadily but Thor catches you up, wrapping his left arm around you loosely as he waves to the bartender across the emptying room.

“Some water, I think.”

Suddenly, the bar is filled with the infectious notes of ‘You Make My Dreams’ by Hall & Oates. As if it is beyond your control, your body begins to respond and there, within Thor’s arm, you begin to dance again. You sway your hips left and right then like a deranged but rhythmic tornado you spin again, laughing.

“You make my dreams come true!” You laugh again, singing excitedly. “Oo-oo, oo, oo, oo-oo.”

“If I had known you would enjoy music this much, I might have chosen a venue where we could have danced.” Thor doesn’t let you go and let’s you dance around him.

At least until the bartender approaches with two glasses. He places them down on your table and Thor wraps his arm more firmly around you as you spin again to stop your dancing.

You’re so disoriented and dizzy but your body feels happy and warm. He’d stopped you mid-spin, pressing you back against his large body with your back pressed against his front. You squirm in his grip, eager to keep dancing.

“Gods save me...Please do not move so, Y/N.” His voice is suddenly nervous as he leads you back to the table. “I am still a man and your hips are taunting.”

“Why? I wanna dance.” You completely didn’t hear his reason.

“You were not kidding about not letting you get drunk. Come, sit. Let us drink a little water and then if you wish to dance again, you may.” He moves to your side of the booth and turns you around then with large hands on your shoulders he sits you down. He slides a glass of water over to you and you stare at it with a small pout. The Police’s ‘Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic’ just came on!

As Thor drops into the seat opposite you, you finally allow your eyes to roam over the space again. The bar is nothing great. A hole in the wall, probably privately owned. Nothing fancy but it’s nice. It’s one of those bars that you choose to go to every day, and it becomes a regular space to inhabit where everyone seems to know each other. You remember the bartender greeting Thor as if he knew him and the way he brought Thor’s drink without being asked for it.

You wrap your hands around your glass of water and appreciate the dim lighting and the plush blue cushion you’re sitting on. There are small candles at the center of every table casting a soft glow on the patrons. Or it would if there were any other patrons in the place. It looks like it’s just you and Thor now. A waitress lingers around the bar chatting up the middle-aged bartender.

“What time is it?” Now that you’re sitting, you’re regaining your sobriety if only fractionally.

“Very late. You danced for a long time.” Thor leans forward, elbows on the table, as he watches you with that same soft smile he’s been giving you all day.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” You demand before taking a drink of your water.

“Do you think I did not try? I’m sorry I did not believe you about letting you get drunk.”

You’re still drinking but you narrow your eyes at him.

“I enjoyed watching you. I think you have been needing to relax for a while.”

Finally, you put your glass down, almost empty. “Why do you come to a regular bar? This stuff can’t get you drunk, can it?”

“No. But I enjoy the flavors. And the company is excellent. Especially today.” He gives you a toothy grin and the sight of it makes your heart stutter.

You must still be really drunk.

“Thanks for asking me to come. I…I did really need to cut loose a bit.” You sigh, remembering your afternoon.

Thor’s smile wavers and he reaches towards you with his right hand but before he can touch you and before the sting of your rejection earlier in the day can bite, the melodic Ahh of ‘Don’t Worry Baby’ by the Beach Boys flows through the speakers of the bar.

“My song!” You proclaim and rush up onto your feet.

You stumble your way towards the large digital jukebox at the far end of the bar, grabbing chairs and tables as you go so that you don’t fall.

Pressing your hands along the hard plastic and then the brilliant touch screen you begin to sway your hips to the left and the right in time with the music. You sing with familiar voices, your voice soft and gentle as the smooth tones and sweet melody begins to stir up your emotions.

“Well it’s been building up inside of me for oh I don’t know how long. I don’t know why but I keep thinking something’s bound to go wrong.”

You can hear Thor’s heavy footfall approaching.

“But she looks in my eyes and makes me realize and she says, ‘don’t worry, baby’.” Your voice cracks.

“Y/N?” Thor’s deep tremble is directly behind you and you lean your forehead against the machine, the fingers of your right hand fiddling with the screw on the bottom right corner.

You sob once. Thor places his hand on the space between your shoulders and gently coaxes you to turn towards him. You do. You let him lead you closer and you don’t try and hide the way your tears fall.

“What is wrong? I thought-?”

“Why can’t they see me?” You sob, fat heavy tears splashing down onto the floor.

“What-?”

“I’m not mean. I don’t do anything wrong. Not that I know of. Am I too nice? Should I be meaner? I can be meaner...I think. I have feelings. I can feel. I’m not empty. My heart breaks. I have hopes. I have dreams. Why can’t they see me, Thor? What’s wrong with me? I-I know I’m not perfect. I know I’m not pretty like other girls. But I’m patient. I listen. Should I not listen? Should I play games and pretend that I don’t care? Is that what they want? Do they want me to be aloof? I can’t do that. When I like someone, I can’t pretend that I don’t. When will it be my turn? When will I be the one that they choose? Why can’t it be me?” You shut your eyes tight, gripping Thor’s forearms while your body shakes with heavy sobs. “Why am I the only one that ever gets hurt? Why? I just want to be seen.”

Large hands suddenly engulf the sides of your face. You open your eyes, looking for their source and find bright blue eyes and a narrowed brow watching you. With your hands still gripping his forearms, Thor leans down and presses soft warm lips against your own.

You gasp against his mouth, shocked by the contact but you don’t pull away. You can’t. He’s got you held in place.

He’s so gentle in the way he massages his lips against your own. Unable to fully comprehend what’s happening you don’t kiss him back.

When he pulls back, he gives you only enough space to speak. You can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips. “Why…?”

“Forgive me. You just…to answer your question. Perhaps these men of Earth are not worthy of your vulnerability.”

“And you are? Why did you kiss me?” You demand.

“I needed to.” He confesses.

“Oh.”

And he kisses you again, once again startling you. You gasp again against his lips, this time your heart flutters. Unsure of what it is that you’re doing exactly, you give in and pucker your lips against his. He responds to your kiss and pulls you closer, dropping his left hand to wrap his arm around your waist to pull you flush against his body.

The way he moves is intoxicating. You’re not sure what you’re doing. You’re half not thinking. You’re drunk. Sort of. You’re sober enough to know that you’re making out with Thor in the middle of a bar. But had you not been drinking, would you have kissed him back? Not this soon, maybe. But it feels so good. Suddenly you’re pulling him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as he finds your legs and guides them up around his waist as he lifts you up.

Your kiss deepens as he opens his mouth and traces the edges of your lips with his tongue. You let him in, mingling with him as you mewl at his touch. As he kisses you, his beard tickles you but you don’t dare pull away, shifting your head to the left as he also adjusts to keep your kiss going.

You kiss him until your lungs begin to protest and you pull back, gasping for air.

“Forgive me.” He says again, confusing you.

“For what?”

“You are…I cannot help myself.” He explains, his voice low and husky.

“Then don’t.”

“You are so starved for affection.” He looks down at your hands as they trace the shape of his biceps and shoulders.

“I…” You feel shame course through you, and you begin to pull your hands back. “I’m sorry.”

“Was that your first kiss?” He asks and it makes your neck and ears burn.

Had you sucked that much? You nod.

“They do not know what they are missing.” He assures you.

You look up at him, wondering if he’s serious or simply trying to make you feel better.

“Are you sober?” He wonders.

You think, trying to examine your own mind but the dizziness you feel could be from Thor’s kiss or the copious amount of liquor you’d drunk earlier. Because you can’t tell, you shake your head.

Thor sighs heavily. “Then we shall stop here for tonight.”

“But…” You protest, wanting so much to kiss him again. Now that you’ve had it, you want it. He’s right. You’re starved for it.

He unhooks your legs from around his waist and helps lower you down gently to the ground before he lumbers towards the booth, you’d been in to grab your bag.

He moves back to you, grabbing your hand as he passes and after a nod to the bartender, he leads you back out into the night.

“This is where you live?” He wonders, staring up at the small house.

It’s not exactly nice. It’s cheap. The shutters are falling down, the paint is faded, the windows barred, and the lawn overgrown. You feel embarrassed again.

“The landlord is supposed to come and fix it up, but they never come.” You look up at him but find him watching you instead of your house.

“Do you live here alone?” He wonders, worry in his voice.

You nod.

“Come, I shall escort you inside.” He pulls you up the rickety steps of the porch, stopping to look down at them as they protest against his weight.

“The wood is rotted.” You explain with embarrassment.

You release his hand and move up to the door and first slide your key into the black metal security door, struggling with the lock for a moment before it finally turns. You pull it open and it creaks loudly. The second door is easier to open. You unlock it and push it open before moving inside. Thor follows and your heart hammers in your chest as you drop your bag and keys by the small table near the door and flip lights on as you go, moving towards the kitchen.

Thor keeps close behind you, his eyes roving over the small living room and the sparse decoration.

Your kitchen is dated. The last time the house had been remodeled must have been the fifties. It’s canary yellow, counters made of cheap plywood. Your fridge is rusted in certain areas, also no older than the fifties, with the handle for the freezer missing, replaced by a rope you’d found in your boxes when you’d moved in. You sigh as you look the space over feeling more and more self-conscious as you expose your home to him.

“I know it’s ugly. I mean, compared to what Mr. Stark must have for you guys up on the compound? He’s got such an eye for modern design. I love working at the compound.” You turn to look at him, to explain that this is only temporary until you can save enough money to move out of here into somewhere much nicer, but you don’t get the chance as he’s suddenly lifting you up to sit on your counter.

He closes the space between your bodies and sighs heavily as he leans down to rest his cheek against your own, itching to kiss you again it seems.

Your mind is a jumbled mess of sensory information. His large hands on your waist grip you tightly, his large torso, so close to yours washes you with wave after wave of heat. His breath tickles the curve of your lips and once again his beard gently scratches along your cheek.

Your surroundings, the way he’d found you today, crying in the bar, you’re suddenly worried about why he’s doing this, and you pull back to look at his face. His blue eyes search yours, curious as to what you’ll say.

“Thor, I’m not…I don’t need you to save me if that’s why you’re…you’re doing this. I know that my life kinda sucks but it’s really great too. I might not have a boyfriend and I might have been rejected earlier today and then gotten drunk and made a fool of myself by crying at the bar, and I know my house is shit but this is my life and I’m okay with it…for the most part.” Obviously, you could do without the constant rejection. “I don’t need you to save me.”

Thor pulls back, giving you a bit more space as he smiles down at you. “Is that why you think I kissed you?”

“Isn’t it?”

Thor sighs and reaches up to caress the back of your head before dropping his hand to rest on your right left shoulder.

“I kissed you because you make me laugh. I kissed you because you can’t hold your liquor. I kissed you because of the way you dance. I kissed you because…because you wiggled against me.” His cheeks flush. Even beneath his scruffy beard you can see the red hue burn bright.

“When did I wiggle against you? I did not!” You argue.

He laughs lightly. “I kissed you because of the way your hips swish in time to the music. I kissed you because I have never seen someone open up the way you did when you cried in the bar. And now I want to kiss you because you prove that although your heart was broken this morning, you do not need to be saved. And I like the way you taste.”

It’s your turn to burn.

“But…” You begin, unsure. “I’m nothing. No one ever wants to kiss me. No one has ever wanted to kiss me.”

Not to mention this is Thor in front of you. You look him over again and your heart aches with how beautiful he is. And he’s nice too! It’s not enough that he looks the way he does but he also has to be nice and funny? How is it fair?

“I do not think you understand just how much you have made me want you.” His voice drops in octave again, making it husky and fluid as he speaks. “If we had not been drinking and I were certain that you are not drunk, I would take you into your bedroom and have you in every way I could think of.”

You swallow hard, suddenly wishing you hadn’t been drinking tonight but also remembering that you’d just met him. “Thor…”

“We will have plenty of time for that. For now, I will have to make do with your lips.” He leans down and catches your mouth in another searing kiss.

This time he kisses you until you’re dizzy. His heady scent, fresh spring rain and the slightest hint of ozone, overcomes all of your senses as he deepens his kiss once more. You could sit here in your kitchen and kiss him forever. His lips move with such gentle passion, his hands exploring the curves of your body without moving too far into taboo territory for a first date.

No. That hadn’t been a date, had it?

You’re not sure how long you and Thor make out but when he finally pulls away, you give in to the comforting heat of his form and lean in against him. You rest your cheek against his left shoulder, your eyes staring at the tight muscles of his neck as he swallows and forces himself to breathe slowly.

“What if I wake up and this has all been a dream?” You ask, reaching up to grab a gentle hold of his right ear with your left hand.

“I will show you that it is not a dream.”

“This is really weird, Thor. We just met today.”

“Did we?” He asks, teasing uncertainty.

“Didn’t we?” Your brain quickly tries to think of another time you might have come across Thor but you’re drawing up a blank.

“I should go. It is very late, and you need rest.” Regrettably he pulls away from you and with your hands held in his he helps you down from the counter before moving for the front door.

The closer he pulls you towards the it the heavier your feet seem to get. You don’t want him to go. The idea of him leaving weighs heavily on your chest until he’s reaching for the handle and you yank back on his left hand.

“No.”

Thor’s blue eyes find you again, “What is the matter?”

“Don’t go, Thor.”

“I must go.”

“Because I’m drunk?”

“Well…yes, but-”

“I’m not drunk.” You argue, ignoring the way the world sways beneath your feet. “Please, don’t leave me. Stay.”

“I cannot. I do not wish to take advantage of you if you are not of sound mind. We will have plenty of time to revisit this possibility, Y/N. I-”

Throwing caution to the wind you throw yourself on him. You pull his head down so that your lips can move with his. He kisses you back, gentle and uncertain if this is right.

You want him. You’ve never wanted anyone more. Now that you’ve kissed him, his intoxicating lips, you need more. You move your hands down slowly along the taut muscles of his back before they come to rest on his waist where your fingers search for the seam of his shirt. They yield their purchase and with yearning intent your hands caress the surprisingly smooth skin of his back sliding his shirt up further and further as you explore.

He suddenly groans into your mouth and slowly he backs you up until he can turn you and press you up against the wall of your hallway. You break the kiss to catch your breath, excited by the feel of his skin underneath your hands.

Shifting slightly, he trails his burning kisses down along your throat. He reaches up and pushes your t-shirt aside to kiss the bare skin of your shoulder sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Stay…” You whisper, begging in what sounds so much like a moan.

“I should not.” He argues, the groan in his voice as he struggles with your pleading sending flutters into your stomach.

“Stay…” You insist.

“No.” He argues, still kissing his way up and down your shoulder and neck.

You reach up to catch his face once again and pull his lips back to yours as you initiate a slow salacious kiss.

“Mmph.” He moans against you and you know just a little more and he’ll cave.

While his hands are busy massaging the flesh of your hips, you let your own snake their way down to the front of his pants to undo the buckle of his belt and the button of his pants.

He breaks the kiss, startled.

“Stay…” You beg against his lips.

“Y/N…” He warns.

You search for the small metal tab along the front of his pants and find it in triumph before you slide it down. The sound of his zipper echoes around the hallway loudly. Your fingers go searching, delving into the front of his pants to find the soft fabric of his briefs, and the growing heat of his rod. He shuts his eyes tight and flexes his jaw hard, fighting some internal struggle as you touch him.

“Stay with me.” You plead one final time.

Suddenly his hands on your waist are rough. He lifts you up, slamming you slightly against the wall of your hall. You gasp and your hand falls out of his pants. He grabs your left leg firmly and wraps it around his waist as he holds you against the wall with his body alone then rocks his hips against your sex.

He uses his left hand to pull your shirt up over your head and you raise your arms up to help him pull it free. He rips the latch of your bra and you quickly peel it off for him and toss the fabric aside, gasping as he pushes himself against you.

For one long agonizing moment, Thor simply stares at your chest. Does he not like what he sees? Your insecurities begin to manifest quickly then they’re quickly wiped away as Thor leans down and suckles on your left breast.

You gasp, your core growing slick quickly. How long have you wanted to be touched this way? How long had you waited for the perfect one? The man who would finally have you? You’re so glad that it’s Thor.

As he traces long tantalizing circles around your nipples moving each of them into his mouth in turn, his right hand finds its way to the front of your jeans. He pulls his own hips back then undoes them and without warning slips his hand in underneath your underwear.

You moan as his fingers find your wet lips and immediately he begins to slide them up and down along your slit searching for whatever spot might please you most.

You tremble as he finds your nub, your little bundle of nerves at the apex of your lower lips and he pulls back to watch the twist of pleasure in your expression.

“Does that feel good?”

Does he really need to ask?! “Yes.”

He wraps his free arm around your waist as he continues to play with you, then turns and waits. “Which way is your bedroom?”

“Th-Third…ah!” You shudder against his hand, gripping onto his shoulders tightly as you lean forward to bite down on his shoulder.

He stops his fingers so that you can speak. “Third door on the right.”

As soon as you’ve released the desire information his fingers are back at work, pressing hard against your nub so that you shudder against his large body.

You have no time to look to see what he thinks of your bedroom. Nothing much in it but a small full-size bed on a rusted bed frame and two sets of drawers, both mismatched and out of place. He’s too busy to care about what’s in here too. He drops you onto the bed and pulls his hand free of your pants only to remove them along with your underwear leaving you completely exposed for him to see.

Nervously you attempt to cover yourself, but Thor reaches for your wrists and pulls them away from your breasts and presses them into the mattress over your head firmly, indicating he’d like you to keep them there. You do as he wants and with nervous flutters in your stomach you watch as he stands back up. He reaches back behind his neck with both hands and pulls his black shirt up over his head exposing for you large rippling muscles. How can he look like that? It’s not possible.

Your jaw drops as you gape at him in awe.

He smiles knowingly at you before pushing his pants and briefs down exposing his fully erect staff. You panic slightly, wondering how the hell he’s going to fit inside of you. This makes you clench your legs together, worried that you’ll disappoint him suddenly.

“Thor?”

He removes his watch and tosses it down onto his pants before he moves back to crawl over you slowly.

Your heart racing in panic, you reach up to press flat palms against his approaching chest. God, he’s hard.

“I…I’ve never…I haven’t been with anyone before.” You confess feeling self-conscious again.

He suddenly stops his advance, lowering himself down against you but keeping his weight supported with his arms.

“You have never made love before?” He wonders, surprised.

“No.” You shrug bringing your arms down to cover your chest again.

Thor frowns and reaches up with his right hand to push your hands away from blocking his view.

“I…I told you that no one has ever, they don’t see me.” You say, reminding him of your breakdown in the bar.

“I see you.” He whispers then leans down to kiss your lips.

That you like. You like his lips. You kiss him back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. You’re so intoxicated by his kiss that you don’t realize he’s positioned himself over you, nudging your legs up and open as he presses the tip of his rod against your very wet entrance.

You pull back, gasping at the strange sensation and look down between your bodies but he’s lying almost completely on top of you that you can see only the tight well-formed muscles of his stomach.

“I will be gentle.” He assures you. “But if you would like to stop, we will stop right now.”

He’s giving you an out. The fear you feel at never having done this before, the pain it might bring, the consequences it could yield, and your inexperience all scream at you to take it. You might suck. What if you suck? With Thor? And he’s so…so big. Will it hurt?

“Y/N?” His voice brings your eyes up to meet his. “Shall we stop?”

And you might have said yes. If you weren’t looking into his stunning blue eyes and if you couldn’t see the kindness and gentle patience in them, you might have stopped. He reaches up with his left hand and caresses the side of your face slowly. You shake your head.

“Don’t stop.”

He leans down to meet your lips again while simultaneously pushing himself slowly inside of you. Your limbs spasm, quickly reaching up to clutch him closer, tighter, as you fight the strange sensation of being filled. It hurts. It does, and you groan against his lips. He stops and lets your body adjust before he pushes in a bit more, all the while kissing you with soft feather light kisses.

He pulls back to trails those soft, apologetic kisses along your jawline and up towards your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your other cheek, and back to your lips.

He finally stops moving and you realize that he’s all the way in. Your pelvis hurts only a little and slowly the throbbing dies down leaving you feeling strangely stuffed.

“Are you alright?” He asks gently.

You nod. “It hurts.”

“Shall I stop?”

“Please, don’t stop.” You try to focus on something other than the ache and pull him back down for a quick kiss.

“If you want me to stop…” He begins, giving you another out but he pulls back slowly, sliding out of you almost three-quarters of the way before he pushes himself back in.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as the pain is renewed.

He stops.

“Keep going.” You beg.

Thor hesitates but you pull him into another lusty kiss, and he begins to pump himself in and out a little faster.

You wish it had gotten better after a few minutes, but you didn’t enjoy your first time. Thor didn’t dislike it, but you can tell that he’s regretful that your first time was painful. He reached his release and that makes you happy. At least you were able to make him feel good.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, breathing heavily over you, his hands massaging your shoulder then arm.

“Don’t be.” You slip your hands into his hair and gently scratch his scalp. He shuts his eyes, enjoying the sensation before he slides his hand down between your legs.

“Thor…” You begin, worried that he’s going to obsess over your lack of orgasm.

“It is not fair.” He argues and proceeds to press his fingers against that nub of yours again.

You squirm slightly, shifting your hips beneath him.

“It will get better with time.” He assures you.

You reach down to grab his wrist and hold it in place, brow furrowed as you search his face.

“You…You want to do this with me again?”

“Of course. Did you think this was a passing fancy?” He demands, half laughing at how ridiculous he finds that notion.

His fingers move again, and you buck against his touch. He plays your nub until your hips surge upwards, seeking one final push as your body is suddenly awash in euphoric climax. Thor worms his arm underneath your waist as you lift your body up towards him with the power of your release. He holds you close and lets you ride out your orgasm until your body is slack in his arms.

“I feel better.” He sighs, happy to see you content.

You laugh and reach up to pull him down for a long kiss.

“If someone had told me that I would wake up this morning alone and end up in bed with Thor, the God of Thunder at night, I would have called them psychotic and delusional.”

“You do not give yourself enough credit. You are irresistible, Y/N. And if I may, I’m almost certain that tomorrow you will end up in bed with Thor, the God of Thunder again. And this time, you’ll enjoy your time together much more.”

“I did enjoy tonight.” You assure him.

“You’ll enjoy it more.” He promises.

You take him at his word and then look down at your body. “I should go shower. And we should change the sheets.”

It’s not a large stain but the red on the sheets is embarrassing. You slip out of his grip and roll off the side of the bed, feeling sore, but eager to get cleaned up. You’re also still dizzy, drunk still but you’re not telling Thor that. You concentrate hard to keep your body from swaying.

He watches you, slowly getting up too so that you can strip the bed of the soiled sheets.

“You do not regret my staying?”

You look up at him as you ball the dirtied sheets in your arms and are startled by the soft look of insecurity on his face. How can he be worried about you wanting him here?

“No.” You assure him sweetly. “Thor…”

Quickly you move around the bed to his side and without hesitation wrap your left arm around his waist. Where you’ve found this sudden confidence, you’re not sure, but you know that you need to show him that you love his being here.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I didn’t mean it. I wanted this. I wanted you. Do you regret staying?” Now it’s your turn to be insecure.

You loosen your arm and he’s suddenly wrapping you up in his own.

“Never.” He promises.

“Good.” You smile. “I’m gonna go shower.”

You pull out of his arms and wander into the bathroom. It takes you ten minutes to clean up. You hope that the soreness will fade quickly. You want to try that again soon.

In the room, Thor is laying on top of a freshly made bed, right hand under his head, left on his chiseled stomach, still completely naked. He must have found the sheets in your closet and made the bed for you.

You stare at his perfect form and reach over with your right hand to pinch your left bicep hard. “Ow.”

Definitely not dreaming.

It’s a whisper but Thor’s eyes shoot open at the sound and he pushes himself up to look at you, a sweet smile plastered onto his perfect lips.

You had been wanting to wait for a while before you tried again but just watching him lay there, naked, looking good enough to eat, you unhook the corner of your towel and let it fall away.

As your nakedness is exposed once more, Thor’s smile falls away and he swallows hard as the rod between his legs twitches and slowly stands erect again.

“I think I’m ready to try again now.”

“Then come here.” He murmurs huskily and you happily obey.

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To Be Seen

@zoey-odinson-stark @slice-of-thunder

[sunyoonandstars]

BST Oneshot | Not Enough || You x Yoongi

Hello lovely readers! 💜 This piece of fiction is based on the following request:

I really hope it turned out like you imagined because I honestly enjoyed writing this so much. So ....

Enjoy and thanks for reading! 💜

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Scenario You and Yoongi have been dating only for a few weeks now, but still, you’re head over heels for him and very willing to put up with the downsides that come with being in a relationship with a dedicated workaholic who is immensely passionate about his music. Yet, eventually, your concerned friends intervene, raising the question: Is what you have with him really enough …?

„Yoongi? I think we need to —“ „What is it this time?“, he turns around in his chair so abruptly a stifled squeal escapes your sore lips. „Can’t you just leave me the fuck alone? Don’t you see I’m busy!? I’m wearing fucking headphones, for God’s sake! What else am I supposed to do? Hang a ‚Do Not Disturb‘-sign around my neck?? Seriously!“ Unable to move, petrified, you can’t do much more than plainly stare at Yoongi, eyes round, mouth agape, paralyzed by shock at his raised voice and the angered expression distorting his beautiful features. „I — I —“, you stammer helplessly before eventually regaining composure. „I think I should go.“ „Yeah, maybe you should.“

angst, fluff

Word count 4.671

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You could hardly believe your luck when Min Yoongi had eventually, reluctantly, more or less accidentally, confessed his deeply routed feelings for you after years of awkwardly dancing attendance to you whenever you’d hang out with the boys, which, with you being a close childhood friend of Taehyung’s who had moved to Seoul by herself about two years back and by then didn’t know anybody else, happened a good many times. Sure, the guys were usually busy and so were you, settling into your new life and job, trying to make connections and somehow survive in this bustling metropolis. Yet, you spent every free minute at the dorm, simply passing the time, slowly but surely becoming part of the family since the guys got used to it, warming up to you quite quickly and soon starting to appreciate and even demand your presence.   Except for Min Yoongi, who, for some reason unknown to you, seemed increasingly eager to keep his distance as time went by, apparently avoiding spending even as much as a second alone with you at all cost. Whenever the other members would leave the room and the two of you solely in each other’s company, all of a sudden an important task would come to mind for him to attend to immediately. Yoongi’s evasive behavior pained you. A fact you would never have admitted, though, because it would have made far too obvious that you took a particular liking to the brooding rapper, whereas he appeared to perceive you only as a nuisance. 

All the more surprising came his unexpected confession to you about five weeks ago when you, one night, had decided to finally confront Yoongi about his gruff attitude towards you making your stays at the dorm increasingly uncomfortable to a level where you almost couldn’t bear to come over anymore, a circumstance injurious to your and Taehyung’s revived friendship and your relationship with the rest of the members. „I don’t fucking hate you, okay!?“, he had snapped at you after you had accused him of harboring resentment towards you. „I like you, y/n. Too much. That’s the problem. Because I didn’t know how to handle it, all right? With you being Tae’s friend and all. And me clearly not having the time for …“ „For what?“, you had inquired, despite having a fairly good idea what was to follow. „For a relationship. Because if I’d made a move, I wouldn’t have wanted to just screw around with you, y/n. You’re a decent girl. I would have wanted it to be something more serious if indeed such a thing were even possible. Which it is not. Not for me. Not at this point anyway.“ „What makes you say that?“ „Well, first of all, I’m a freaking idol. I bid my privacy farewell about seven years ago what makes these kinds of things —“ Yoongi gestured towards you. „ — painfully strenuous or even impossible. And secondly, I know myself“, he scoffed. „Well, I don’t. Because you haven’t let down your guard with me once in two years. So, give me a chance to get to know you now. Because I kinda like you back, you know?“ That was how it all started. It’s barely been weeks, but to you, it feels like an eternity. You can’t imagine your life without Yoongi in it anymore. He’s in your thoughts constantly, occupying your heart so effortlessly as if it had always been meant for him and him only. Never before have you felt this way and you relish the sentiment. Although you can’t deny its bittersweet aftertaste. Because things aren’t exactly as rosy anymore as they were when you first made it official about a month ago. Well, at least official to the rest of the members and your few closest friends. That you’re a couple now, an item, a unit, in this together. The first week had been intense. Yoongi wasn’t able to keep his hands off of you whenever you were alone. Sometimes he would whisper sweet nothings into your ear or even talk dirty to you in a hushed voice with the others still in the room to keep things spicy, demanding to translate his suggestions into action later on when he’d have you all to himself. One night three words even slipped out of Yoongi’s mouth in between heated kisses. The three words. Immediately, he stopped what he’d been doing, freezing in place, leading you to pull away from his lips to stare at him in puzzlement, eyes wide. „Did you just —?“ He simply looked down on you, his pale face softly glowing in the incoming moonlight, showing no emotion as he spoke up again, his tone deadpan but his voice unusually hoarse even for Yoongi: „Well, I guess I did. And I won’t take it back. Because I mean it. I’ve been in love with you for most of the two years I’ve known you, y/n. And I won’t apologize for the way I feel. Though I would very well understand if this was a little too much, too soon for you …“ You could clearly see hurt and uncertainty flicker under the surface of the deep, dark wells of his worldly-wise eyes when he freed himself from your embrace in order to turn his back on you. But you wouldn’t let him. „No. No, Yoongi“, you’d whispered, agitatedly shaking your head, pulling Yoongi even closer to your bare chest, affixing your gaze to his. „I can’t tell you how much I wanted to hear those very words from you. I feel the same way. I love you. I love who you are. And I want to learn to love all of you. So, please, don’t put up your walls again. Let me in. Trust me.“ And back then he had sworn he would. Trust you. Let you in. Show himself, his true colors. Value you. Give you all his love and affection. Be there for you. Respect you. Because he thought you to be the most beautiful soul to ever wander this earth. You had reminded yourself that those were just words uttered in between the sheets. But still, your heart couldn’t help itself but hang on to his honeysome promises. You should’ve known better, you hear your best friend’s words echo in the back of your mind as you now once again stand before the locked door to Yoongi’s Genius Lab. „I don’t wanna say I told you so, BUT I TOLD YOU SO“, she had berated you over the phone only a few nights ago. „I knew this guy was gonna be bad news. Idol or not, he’s an asshole, not worth your time, y/n! All he knows and loves is his goddamn music! There’s no room for you in his life and he should’ve never sweet-talked you into believing otherwise since I’m pretty sure he’s well aware of the fact that he’s a career-obsessed workaholic who’s success will always come first. He wants to make you believe he’s been pining after you for years? That he actually loves you? Well, if he were telling the truth he wouldn’t act like this. He wouldn’t constantly stand you up and literally lock you out, for God’s sake! Face the facts, y/n.” „Don’t say that!“, you had come to Yoongi’s defense without hesitation. „It’s not just the success he cares about. Most of all it’s his music because it enables him to express himself and reach people, change their lives for the better. And I respect that. He’s an artist through and through, and his passion and creativity are amongst the things I admire most about him. Also, don’t make him appear as a cold-hearted megalomaniac who solely cares about himself and his career. Because he’s not. Yoongi is one of the most caring people I have ever encountered. He simply has a hard time showing it …“ „Girl, you're lost, a hopeless case. I can’t help you if you won’t let me.“ With those words, she had ended your conversation and hung up before you even got a chance to tell her that you appreciated her concern. And now that you, once more, knock your knuckles sore without receiving any sort of reaction from the other side of the still locked door to Yoongi’s studio, you can’t help but wonder. If your friend is actually right doubting his feelings for you. „Yoongi!“, you scream at the cold wooden door for what feels like the thousandth time. „Let me in! Come on. We had a freaking date tonight, remember!? And the food is getting cold. I brought bulgogi from your favorite place. Just open the door, please!?“ A sudden sigh coming from behind you lets you jump and spin around in place. Your reaction seems to startle Namjoon just as much as his unexpected presence did you. „Woah, you almost gave me a heart attack“, you laugh, clutching your heaving chest. „Sorry, y/n, I didn’t mean to“, the tall rapper apologetically grins at you, the warm smile revealing his endearing dimples. „No worries.“ For a few, seemingly endless moments an awkward silence takes up the space between you. Until Namjoon decides to break it. „He’s not opening up, is he?“ Slowly, you shake your head, eyes cast down to the ground, trying not to let show how deeply his words and the meaning behind them hurt and humiliate you. „I’m sorry, y/n. But it’s not just you. He didn’t show his face once today and wouldn’t even talk to Jimin.“ „He’s not answering his phone, either“, you add, the sound of resignation in your own voice coming as a surprise to you. „I must’ve left him six missed calls and at least twice as many messages.“ „Did you have plans tonight?“ Feeling your eyes well up, you clench your free hand into a fist, the other one still having a tight grip on the bag of food. Your teeth dig so deep into the sensitive skin of your lower lip that you can taste blood as you reluctantly nod in affirmation. „Should I try and talk to him, y/n? I’m a lot stronger and my voice is louder. Maybe he’ll hear me despite his headphones and —“ Gently but firmly you hold back Namjoon’s raised arm before his hand can make contact with the wooden surface of the door. „No, Namjoon. Let him be. He probably needs this.“ You force a smile, being met with a concerned frown on his part. „What do you say? In the mood for some bulgogi bibimbap? I brought kimchi stew, too. It’s still warm.“ „Sure, let’s eat”, he hesitantly shrugs. “Would be a shame to let such good food go to waste anyway.“ Namjoon gives you a brotherly pat on the back as he proceeds to lead you down the corridor, bringing the conversation round to some general topics in an effort to lighten the mood, not without throwing a condemning look over his shoulder, back at Yoongi’s door, though, the motion not going unnoticed by you. „Don’t take it too seriously, y/n, and most of all not personally. I’m sure Yoongi doesn’t mean to hurt you. Whenever he gets like this, all immersed or even lost in his work, he’s just completely oblivious to the impact his behavior can have on the ones around him. He probably didn’t consult a watch once today“, Namjoon tries to downplay Yoongi’s misconduct when you settle down in a remote corner of the building for a nice, quiet meal, away from the hustle and bustle of the Big Hit headquarters. Not meaning to defend Yoongi, however, but to comfort you, you sense, and quietly accept his reassuring words while the icy lump in the pit of your stomach keeps on growing. Later that night you try to call Yoongi for the last time today, as you swear to yourself, almost certain to be redirected to voicemail once again. To your great surprise, though, he actually picks up. „Y/n“, he greets you, dragging out the syllables, his voice sounding leaden, weary. „It’s late. Why are you even still awake?“ You miserably fail at holding back the stung scoff urging to escape the deep of your throat. „Well, hello to you, too, sunshine“, you bitterly retort, shaking your head in amazement at his apparent indifference, even though you’re well aware of the fact that Yoongi can’t see you. „Sorry. I’m just tired“, he grumbles. „It’s two in the morning. I’d say that’s to be expected. You should get some sleep, Yoongi.“ „Then why are we even talking?“ „Do you really not know?“ Your question is followed by a painfully stretching silence. „Ohh“, he finally sighs. „Shit. Fuck. Our date. I’m so sorry, y/n! I’m such an idiot. Why didn’t you —“ „Call?“, you cut him off, making an effort to keep your voice from trembling. „I did. At least 6 times. I lost count, really. You should maybe check your call history.“ „You could’ve —“ „Knocked? I did, Yoongi. I was there. Right outside your door. I waited for about half an hour for you to let me in.“ „Shit. I’m so, so sorry!“ „Don’t be. I had a nice meal with Namjoon instead“, you sneer. „He’s pleasant company. We had a lot to talk about.“ „Fuck, y/n. I feel like the biggest asshole ever.“ You can gather from his voice that Yoongi actually means it. His evident self-hatred pains your heart, the grudge you were holding against him mere seconds ago goes up in smoke at once. „Don’t say that, Yoongi. You’re not. I’m sorry, I was being petty. I know your work is important to you. And sometimes you simply zone out. That’s how it is. I won’t hold it against you, all right? So don’t worry. We’re good“, you say in a low, calm voice, your words leaving the bitter taste of lies in your dry mouth. „No! It’s not that easy. You cut me way too much slack, y/n“, Yoongi objects. What does he expect? For you to agree? Taken aback, you remain silent, listening to his heavy breathing and the background noises, the rustling of fabric and a sound you believe to be caused by a zipper, becoming increasingly audible. „What’s with the noise?“, you can’t help but wonder aloud. „What do you think?“, Yoongi scoffs. „I’m coming over.“ And with those words, he hangs up and you can feel all the remaining pent-up anger previously having led your chest to tighten simply melt away. This pattern keeps repeating itself again and again over the course of the following weeks. Yoongi continues to miss or cancel your dates, merely apologizing through brief text messages if at all, repeatedly telling you in his own way, though, that he truly loves you, how very sorry he is and that this is only temporary, a phase, a precious surge of creativity he has to make good use of while it lasts. Sometimes he tries to make it up to you somehow, by unexpectedly turning up at your door late at night to make sure you feel satisfied or simply fall asleep by your side. And you put up with it. Because, deep down, you know it’s true. That he loves you. That he is sorry. Or at least you want it to be true. You come by Yoongi’s studio, which he rarely ever leaves, as often as possible to drop of fresh clothes, meals and snacks, remind him to stay hydrated and quietly keep him company, an act you’re sure he appreciates. Talking is hardly an option, though, because his mind is always somewhere else and Yoongi is prone to getting agitated when depriving himself of sleep for too long, his irritation leading him to occasionally snap at you out of nowhere whenever you dare to raise your voice. Today is no different. Cautiously, careful not to make a sound, you push open the door to his studio which he at least tends to leave unlocked these days. „I brought —“, you whisper as you enter, holding up a box of takeout. Yoongi silences you with a curt gesture of his hand without taking off his headphones or even sparing you a single glance. It cuts your heart like an icy blade. Silently, biting your lip in an effort to keep your quickly boiling up emotions in check, you set the food down on his desk beside him, your eyes shortly lingering on Yoongi’s side profile, his brows furrowed in concentration, lips slightly pursed, eyes intently fixed on the computer screen before him. You can’t be sure if he is even aware of who it is that disturbs his work. He doesn’t seem to care either way. You can feel hot, burning tears flooding your eyes and do your best to hold them back as you now hesitantly tap Yoongi on the shoulder, aiming to finally, hopefully, get his attention. He shows no reaction. None at all. „Yoongi?“ Still. Nothing. „Yoongi? I think we need to —“ „What is it this time?“, he turns around in his chair so abruptly a stifled squeal escapes your sore lips. „Can’t you just leave me the fuck alone? Don’t you see I’m busy!? I’m wearing fucking headphones, for God’s sake! What else am I supposed to do? Hang a ‚Do Not Disturb‘-sign around my neck?? Seriously!“ Unable to move, petrified, you can’t do much more than plainly stare at Yoongi, eyes round, mouth agape, paralyzed by shock at his raised voice and the angered expression distorting his beautiful features. „I — I —“, you stammer helplessly before eventually regaining composure. „I think I should go.“ „Yeah, maybe you should“, he calls after you who is already out the door. Storming down the hallway, your vision blurred by tears having been held back for weeks and now freely streaming down your cheeks, you run into Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin whose laughter immediately fades away as they see you in your state. „Y/n, what —?“, Jimin starts out, obviously devastated by the sight of you, being silenced in mid-sentence, however, by your inarticulate head-shaking. Unable to look them in the eye, for the first time actually doubting if what Yoongi has to offer will truly be enough in the end, you rush past the boys and outside, leaving them in apprehensive puzzlement. Yoongi is overcome by immediate regret at losing his temper with you, the look on your face as he yelled those horrible words, the disappointment and hurt showing in your beautiful, soft eyes, having burned itself into his memory. Cursing under his breath, he puts down his headphones and gets up to rush after you as soon as he realizes what he may just have done, so hurriedly he almost knocks over his chair in the process. Before Yoongi can even pass the door sill, though, he is met with a wall of shoulders blocking his way and sight. „What the hell!“, he swears, sparing no effort to somehow get through, to no avail, however. „Out of the fucking way! I have to get to her! I have to —“ „Are you serious right now?“, Namjoon’s deep, dangerously calm voice leads him to pause. „Did you see y/n?“ „Did you see what you’ve done?“, Taehyung now chimes in. „No way you’re going after her!“, he growls in his deep, full voice, grabbing Yoongi by the collar of his sweater. The rapper can’t recall a time where he has seen his friend this angry. The younger man's eyes burn with fury. „Hyung, you can’t treat her like that!“, Jimin agrees, his tone significantly calmer but no less reproachful, while he gently loosens Taehyung’s grip on Yoongi’s shirt. „Y/n loves you, Yoongi. She really does. And she has been ever so patient with you, doing her best to make you feel cared for, turning a blind eye whenever you didn’t show her the respect or affection she deserves. Because she believed that, in the end, it would all be worth it.“ Brows furrowed, Yoongi stares at him, not appreciating the subtext of his words. „What are you implying?“, he asks, taking a step back from the three men still blocking his door. „That it isn’t? That it won’t be worth it in the end? That I don’t love her?“ The words run over his tongue like bitter poison. Especially because, for a second there, Yoongi can’t help but actually believe them. Soon, however, he manages to snap out of his thunderstruck petrification. „You don’t know anything“, he mutters, finally pushing aside the three of them to go after you, running as fast as his legs can carry him, paying no mind to the members and managers calling after him, reminding him of his obligation to attend dance practice. Panting, searing side stitches turning each and every one of his breaths into pure agony, Yoongi finally comes to a halt behind you, reaching out to pull at the fabric of your jacket in order to bring you to stop, no strength left in his tired extremities to take even one more step. Startled, you turn around, tearing out your earplugs. Your wide eyes darken noticeably as soon as you lay them on his hunched, heavily breathing figure. „What? What do you want?“, you ask after minutes of silence, only disturbed by the sounds of traffic and Yoongi’s desperate wheezing, have passed. Trying hard to retain an air of indifference, since you’re unsure what to expect and really too afraid to expect anything at this point, you cross your arms over your chest, averting your eyes when Yoongi, his hand still clutching the rim of your hoodie jacket, eventually looks up at you. „Y/n, I — I don’t know what to say. I —“, Yoongi gasps, one hand pressed to his still aching side. Nodding to yourself, you bite your lip to prevent it from quivering and so revealing the true state of your heart. The turmoil raging in your very core. The conflicting emotions clashing with every breath you take. Part of you wants to give in and throw yourself at Yoongi right here and now. To wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in and kiss his lips and feel him, feel close to him, be his once more. But the other part keeps reminding you of the pain he has caused you, knowingly or not. And of the fact that things will most likely never change, whatever he might promise you. That Yoongi will always be an artist, first and foremost. That you will forever play second fiddle in his life, however much effort you may put in to change this fact which is simply that: a fact. Still, you can’t bring yourself to turn your back on him and leave, to pull the fabric of your jacket from Yoongi’s hand, so tightly clutched around the garment his knuckles shine white through his pale skin. „Y/n, I won’t beg“, he continues as you finally force your eyes to meet his. „I know it’s not my place to ask for your forgiveness. I will not plead for you to give me another chance because I’m well aware of the fact I don’t deserve one. All I can do is tell you the truth.“ Yoongi now draws himself up to his full height, letting go of your hoodie, the expression on his face serious, solemn even. „I know we’ve only been together for a few weeks. But, I love you, y/n. With all I have. And I have done so for almost two years now. I knew when you first laughed, shamelessly, naturally, at your own mistake. I knew when you casually mentioned that you always keep loose change in your jacket pockets so you can give it to the homeless in the streets. I knew when you cried after a man, a random stranger, had verbally assaulted you for no other reason than merely bumping into him in passing and I asked you why you’d shed tears because of such an idiot and you replied, I recall the words exactly: ‚Because he is unhappy. Because a person getting that angry at another being for having done nothing wrong cannot be happy. And I feel sorry for this man. He must be sad and lonely and frustrated to carry so much hatred and anger within him.‘ At first, I thought you were stupid, feeling sorry for a person that had just insulted you. But then I realized just how beautiful you really are even beneath the beauty that initially meets the eye. And I fell for you. So fucking hard I had no idea it could even be possible.“ Yoongi pauses, averting his gaze, shaking his head to himself as you remain in place, unable to move, taken aback by his words. You had no clue. No clue of the true depth of his feelings. No clue he’d seen you like this all along. That he had loved you from afar ever since that day, one year and eleven months ago. „I know, these are all just words“, Yoongi goes on, running a hand through his hair, apparently anxious, avoiding your eyes now. „But if you’d come to my studio now and listen to the songs I wrote and produced over the past few weeks, you’d realize that they’re all about you, one way or another. Because that’s my way of dealing with this, y/n. With being so overwhelmed by you, by us. Because now that I can be with you, that I get to know you a little bit more day by day, I get fucking scared. A little bit more, day by day. Scared that I’m not enough, that I’m not what you need. Scared of how much I love you. Because I love you so freaking much, y/n! So much it hurts. So much I’m afraid to lose you, to hurt you, to destroy what is beautiful and what I love about you. I guess that’s why I tried to hold back, to keep my distance.” A bitter scoff escapes the deep of his throat as Yoongi shakes his head once again at thoughts he doesn’t share with you. „You know, I love the way you think, y/n, the way you see the world, how observant you are. I love those little things. Like, how you always try to be so freaking guarded, to hide and protect your feelings, but are never really able to. At least not when one looks closely enough. Because there are these giveaways, you know? And I fucking live for them, y/n! For the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous, or how your brow twitches when you’re annoyed but won’t let it show, or how the corner of your mouth quirks up when you just can’t take some idiot’s bullshit and want to say something but don’t. I love the way your eyes sparkle when you get excited, and how the smallest things manage to capture your attention and make you smile. I love that you see beauty in everything and everyone, that you believe all humans are equal and equally magnificent, worth our time, effort and understanding. I love that you work hard to be your best self and are proud of what you have accomplished so far, yet still remain humble. I love the way you look at me like I am actually a person worthy of your affection, that seeing myself through your eyes inspires me to be a better man. That you love selflessly and put others first. But you really shouldn’t do that, you know? Because you deserve so much more than just being taken for granted. You deserve everything. You deserve the whole fucking world, all right!?“ By now Yoongi has lifted his voice up to a level where passers-by curiously turn their heads to throw you suspicious glances. But he doesn’t seem to care. Yoongi simply stands there, before you. Waiting. And you know. There is really no choice here. And only one thing to do. Smiling, you slowly step up to him, holding eye contact until you are so close his beautiful features blur out of focus. „I think you missed your vocation, Min Yoongi“, you whisper at his lips, both your hands grabbing hold of his sweatshirt, pulling him close against your body. „You should’ve become a scriptwriter instead. They’d hire you for all the cheesy dialogue scenes.“ You can feel Yoongi chuckle, his chest vibrating against yours, his hot breath brushing your cheek. „Oh, shut up and kiss me already.“

******************************************************

Hope you liked it and are having a nice day, wherever you are! Thanks for reading! Take care! 💜

Here you can find my Masterlist if you feel like checking out more of my BTS fiction!

All GIFs used are NOT mine. Credit goes to the initial creators. Thank you for your hard work and dedication.

© 2018 a-r-m-y-g-i-r-l ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[ylc1]

Fanfic Master List (Johnlock)

I left this pairing for last since it’s the one I’ve written more fics about so... well. Here we are! Enjoy!

Burned hearts

Johnlock, complete, 7300 words.

Summary: A retell from the scene at the pool in TGG, in which John is never revealed to be Moriarty’s hostage. Believing himself fooled, Sherlock goes through a bit of a meltdown.

Some personal notes on it: this idea came to me when I first watched TGG. I think that I could have expanded it so much more and make it even more angsty but well… I still like it.

Additional notes: angst, lots of self doubt, Sherlock doesn’t cope well, Mycroft and Greg are very concerned.

Apples and Oranges

Johnlock, complete, 600 words.

Summary: Kid Sherlock is attempting to figure out why would people like kissing. John helps.

Some personal notes: this was a fill in for a tumblr prompt. Just some kidlock fluff.

Additional notes: AU, kidlock, fluff.

Long shot

Johnlock, complete, 44200 words.

Summary: Omega werewolf Sherlock is engaged to human Prince John, after having scared off his last suitor. It seems it might be working out for the best though- at least until the Dark and Immortal Wizard Moriarty rises again.

Some personal notes: when I write original fiction, I tend towards fantasy with a mix of romance. Indulging in my love for both genres was a joy. Also, this was my work with most kudos for a long while, so I guess it shows ;)

Additional notes: A/B/O dynamics, Mpreg, arranged marriage, angst, pining, misunderstandings, Jim being Jim (he’s the perfect fairytale villain, honestly)

Wildest dreams

Johnlock (although victorian), complete, 3800 words.

Summary: Watson puts an end to his relationship with Holmes, in order to marry Mary Morstan.

Some personal notes: have I told you how I love Taylor Swift’s songs? I had been trying to avoid writing this particular fic because I worried about my abilities to write something with such a strict historical setting, but I should probably have stopped listening to the song because it soon became too much :P

Additional notes: victorian (but a bit loosely I think), angst, pining, unhealthy coping mechanisms… HAPPY ENDING

Mistaken impressions

Johnlock, complete, 16300 words

Summary: John is convinced his neighbor’s boyfriend is a jerk. He sort of is, but he’s actually Sherlock’s brother.

Some personal notes: I liked this idea, but as I started writing… I lost my way a bit. So now I’m a bit stuck with is, since I have no idea where exactly I want to go with it, although I have what I think might be the last chapter half-written.

Additional notes: references to past abusive relationships, past drug addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst, drama, pining, MISUNDERSTANDINGS and some attempts of humor.

Hopeless

Johnlock, complete, 45800 words.

Summary: John’s a slave in Lord Magnussen’s household. When a new slave arrives and the Master takes a fancy on her (although it’s really him), John finds himself doing the best he can to protect him.

Some personal notes: this idea came to me in a dream. Which is why it’s far darker than my usual writings and also the reason for Trans Sherlock. I don’t like fighting my inspiration and well… I went with it, even if it added another layer of complications to this particular fic.

Additional notes: trans character, misgendering, implied/referenced noncon (although there’s nothing explicit), underage (it’s never explicitly stated, but Sherlock is 14 when the fic starts), slavery, sexual slavery, very dark, very angsty, mentions of violence, murder and abuse. It has a happy/hopeful ending, though!

Home for Christmas

Johnlock, complete, 8500 words.

Summary: When Mycroft Holmes informs his family he’s bringing along a friend for Christmas, the household is thrown into utter chaos: Mummy Holmes is delighted, of course and Mr. Holmes is just baffled. Sherlock, however, is determined to figure out what is his brother up to. Mycroft doesn’t do friendships, let alone relationships, so who is this mysterious Dr. John H. Watson and what’s his business with his brother?

Some personal notes: this is the actual summary on AO3, but I really don’t know a better way to describe it ;) I think my attempt of humor did work here, even if it endeded up including a bit of angst (but not much)

Additional notes: Alternate First Meeting, humor, Christmas fic, misunderstandings (of a sort), family.

Black magic

Johnlock, complete, 7400 words.

Summary: John ends up with a magic love potion (he was drunk, don’t judge him!) and in a fit of desperate longing, he gives it to Sherlock. He didn’t expect it to work since magic does not exist, so he’s a little baffled when Sherlock starts acting love-struck.

Some personal notes: this was the first fic I meant to write for the fandom. I never got around finishing until now, when I figured I might as well give it another try. I think it could have been longer, but I had no idea what else to write :P

Additional notes: attempt of humor, magic, a surprising amount of discussion of consent issues, not actually unrequited love.

All is fair (in love and war)

Johnlock, complete, 6300 words.

Summary: Eurus’ “game” forces John and Sherlock to confess long hidden feelings. It turns out as well as you’d expect.

Some personal notes: It started as a rewrite of the “I love you” scene in TFP, turned into a sort of fix it fic. I like it, even if I’m not completely sure the logic holds :P

Additional notes: angst, drama, hurt without comfort, but has a happy ending!

Priceless   

Johnlock, complete 22485 words.

Summary: Sherlock is a Prince with a Kingdom at war. He makes a deal with the all powerful wizard called “the Dark One”; the wizard will stop the war if Sherlock stays with him forever.

Some personal notes: this fic is result of the FandomTrumpsHate auction, for the lovely @sherlock-and-john-getting-it-on​. I was asked for a “Beauty and the Beast” inspired fic with John as the Beast. I asked for the chance to use the Once Upon a Time spin of the tale and this is the result.

Additional notes: magical AU, pining, misunderstandings (they’re both so silly it hurts!), includes my attempt of some proper smut, Jim wrote himself into it and in doing that provided me with an ending :P

Saving all my love for you

Johnlock, 

Summary: Unrequited love is no fun.

Some personal notes: I just wanted to write something angsty, heart tugging. There isn’t much plot, really, just a lot of pining and self reflection.

Additional notes: based on the song by the same title,angst, pining, sad, unilock.

The art of letting go

Johnlock, complete, 47400 words.

Summary: Sherlock convinces himself that if he can’t remember what happened on the stag night, then it didn’t happen at all. Until he finds out he’s pregnant and he can’t keep pretending, that is.

Some personal notes: Oh, I loved working on this. I have a thing for unplanned pregnancies (as you can probably tell) and while writing a character as trans always makes me nervous, I thought it worked well. The story is very angsty at points and it doesn’t get hopeful until the very end so… be warned!

Additional notes: Trans character, Mpreg, angst (a lot), jealousy, pining, Mary and John are married but she isn’t pregnant, pos TSoT, follows HLV more or less.

A fortunate encounter

Johnlock, complete, 4528 words.

Summary: While escaping a group of enemy soldiers, Sherlock ends up in a mysterious island.

Some personal notes: after watching the Wonder Woman movie I couldn’t contain myself and ended up writing this short thing ;)

Additional notes: Wonder Woman AU, love at first sight, spoilers for the movie (somewhat, but not really), romance.

Just friends

Johnlock, side mystrade, complete, 4400 words

Summary: Just friends don’t live together, have sex and generally enjoy a life of sweet domesticity.

Except John and Sherlock do, apparently.

Some personal notes: Cliche, I know, but cute. I became a little obsessed with the idea of friends with benefits due a song :P

Additional notes: alternate universe- college, a little angst, friends with benefits (except not), lack of communication.

The answer

Johnlock, very side Mystrade, complete, 16700 words.

Summary: Friendless and penniless, John agrees to participate on a study conducted by the renowned researcher, Sherlock Holmes, to find the answer to what’s probably the most important question in the world: what’s love?

Some personal notes: this is vaguely based on the book “The answers”, going in the direction I thought the author was going to go when I started reading it (I like my idea much better, I must say)

Additional notes: fake/pretend relationship, a little pining, Sherlock is bad at feelings (and so is John), pseudo science (don’t look too deep into it), lack of communication.

Don’t forget me (I won’t forget you)

Johnlock, complete, 2600 words.

Summary: Sherlock wakes up one day to find he’s the only person who can remember John Watson.

Some personal notes: this idea came to me one day and refused to leave until I wrote it down. It’s just the beginning of a tale, but I don’t have much a plot planned so it’s marked as finished.

Additional notes: Eurus has actual telepathic powers, a little angst, memory alteration, open ending.

And that’s it! They weren’t quite as many as a feared :P 

I hope you’ll enjoy them! Kudos & comments mean the world to me.

And if you can, maybe Buy Me a Coffee

My other lists are here: rare pairs, johnlock & mystrade, mystrade

Last updated 18.12.2018

[cyanmnemosyne]

Yuletide Letter (2017)

Dear Yuletide Writer,

First of all, thank you for taking the time to write me a fic!  This is my third year participating in Yuletide, and I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with. :D

If you have matched with me on one of these small fandoms, I figure chances are pretty good that we share some tastes as well. :D So while I’ve tried to provide at least a bit of commentary for each one, please feel free to ignore all my meandering suggestions if your inspiration takes you in a different direction.  :)  I feel certain I’ll love whatever you write, either way. <3

I also have no preferences as regards length, tense, or POV -- feel free to write the story however it works best. :)

AO3 name: darkcyan

Requested fandoms:

Shirobako

Mouretsu Pirates | Bodacious Space Pirates

Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

Machineries of Empire Series - Yoon Ha Lee  

[ hiding the rest under the cut, because as usual, it got long. :) ]

General Preferences:

Yes, Please:

fluff, found family, deep friendships, established relationships, brand new relationships where everyone’s trying to feel their way through, drama if it’s not gratuitous or inspired only by misunderstandings, hopeless pining, hopeless pining that turns out to be reciprocated.  People already trusting each other, people coming to slowly trust each other.

basically if it’s emotionally warm, I will probably love it

and if it hurts but resolves in an emotionally warm place, I will love it while crying

AUs.  canon-fork or otherwise.  I like it best when the characters still feel “true” to their canon personalities, as filtered and changed through the different lens of how the AU differs from canon.  For AUs that involve significant worldbuilding (e.g. sci fi AU), feel free to spend as much time as you want on the worldbuilding in addition to the characters.

Actually worldbuilding in general is great if that’s your thing.

Missing scene / other POV / canon continuation fic are also great. (I think what I’m trying to say is I like basically all kinds of fic?)

time travel. is a guilty pleasure of mine.  Primarily when used as an excuse to abuse one’s future knowledge to help put the past on a better track (though of course, it wouldn’t be as fun if the changes didn’t start piling up eventually. ;) ) Time travel paradoxes are an interesting thought experiment, but in my fic-reading I’ve got a strong preference for the “eh, changing the past forks the future, don’t worry about it too much” mode of time travel.

Female characters being their awesome selves.

Happy endings.  (Bittersweet is fine too :) )

Shipping is great, queerplatonic relationships are great, deep friendship is great.  Relationships are great! (I’ve called out my preferences or lack thereof on a fandom-by-fandom basis below in case it helps.  Anywhere I say “relationship”, feel free to assume that I’d be just as thrilled by anywhere in the spectrum from “really good friends” through “queerplatonic” to “romantic”)

Humor is good too! I’m usually not terribly interested in true crackfic, but the occasional lighthearted fic – or a dash of humor in something otherwise dramatic to lighten the mood – is great.

I feel certain I’m missing a lot, so let’s just say that anything that’s not otherwise called out in my maybe/no lists is fair game :D

Maybe:

issuefic (which seems to include things like alternate sexuality / gender headcanons? not 100% sure on the preferred terminology here?) I like my issues to feel organically part of the story rather than being a transparent soapbox, but other than that, I think that sort of story can be really interesting :D  This is in the ‘maybe’ category mostly because I guess there’s a risk that we might not happen to agree on said issue?? But if it’s the sort of fic you love to write, go for it! :)

Kidfic.  Haven’t really encountered much that interested me, but if you want to, go for it. :)

Please, no:

Onscreen sex. Fade to black or references are fine if you feel it’s critical to the characterization / plot, but if we’ve gotten to the point where we’re talking about limb positions, my reaction is almost certain to be somewhere between bored and extremely uncomfortable.  

(but honestly I’d prefer no sex at all. comes of being both asexual and a prude *shrug*)

Even if it’s not explicit or onscreen, please no rape / noncon / dubcon. *eyes list* Do I need to call out “no incest”? I don’t think so? But just in case: no incest either please. :)

Not a huge fan of drug / addiction plots either

Relationships, romantic or otherwise, where there’s a significant power imbalance (especially if it’s abused) really bother me, especially if it’s played as acceptable.[1]  (If the story shows it as deeply problematic and works through the implications, I’ve been known to have an intellectual appreciation for it, but it’s still not something I really want to read about.)

Most significant age difference fic falls into this bucket for me.  

I also feel pretty strongly about free will and freedom to choose, so “I’m taking away your choices by hiding things from you / doing things behind your back For Your Own Good” narratives mostly just make me want to punch things, no matter how good the supposed justification is on the part of the person doing it. So. I’d recommend avoidance. :)

… Emotional manipulation in general, to be honest.  Especially, again, if it’s played as acceptable.

Cheating and other forms of deliberate, sustained dishonesty within a relationship.  If the characters are lying to each other, they’d better have a really good reason, and chances are I still won’t like them quite as much after.  [2]

Gratuitous drama.  If the drama could be resolved by the characters just sitting down for five minutes and talking to each other, and the only reason they don’t is ~*~reasons~*~, then I start getting really annoyed, really quickly

Plots revolving around jealousy.  It’s a human emotion, but I hate it when characters let it eliminate their capacity for rational thought

Anything that uses “they couldn’t help themselves” as an excuse for making bad decisions. Like. I’m sure there are exceptions.  (Actual mind-control?) But in general my response to that excuse is “You’re an adult.  Act like it.“

Character bashing. Even the characters I hate are the heroes of their own stories.  

Not a huge fan of relentless grimness / Crapsack Worlds.  I enjoy some grim sometimes, but I prefer at least an occasional dose of hope with my grimness. I need to have some faith that the ending will be a happy one, or at least cathartically bittersweet.

Related: If I wanted to hear about awful people being awful all the time and how awful everything is as a result, I’d go watch the news. (... Someday I would like this statement to be less true than it was the previous year, instead of more. ;___;) There can be awful people, they can do awful things, but I’d really prefer they not be either the majority or the focus of the story.

[1] BDSM in which said power relationship has been consensually agreed on ahead of time is entirely different, of course. :)

… But it’s also not generally really my thing. :P

[2] For the record, I do not count poly relationships in this bucket at all.  All I ask is that everyone who’s involved is aware of and reasonably happy with what’s going on.

Fandoms:

Shirobako

Crunchyroll

Requested character(s): Miyamori Aoi, Yano Erika

Spoiler notes: I’ve watched the show and read the first several chapters of the prequel manga

Preferred pairing(s): gen or Erika/Aoi (side relationships between whatever set of the characters that suits your fancy are fine too - aside from my soft spot for Erika/Aoi I don’t have any strong ship feelings.)

THIS SHOW.  I love it to pieces. When I first started watching it, I was in the middle of a bit of a professional crisis of my own (trying to decide whether to change jobs), so this show hit basically all my “I love this” buttons, from laughing and crying about how well it depicted how hard it is to get a lot of creative people to work together (I’m a programmer, not an animator, but the similarities are pretty scary), to laughing and crying at its depiction of writer’s block, to adoring all the little in-jokes it slipped in about anime as a whole (I wish I could remember the name of that harem show …), to loving all the insights into how making an anime actually works, to empathizing like no one’s business with Aoi’s insecurity about whether she was “enough” for the job and whether it was okay to not have everything figure out yet, to Ema’s struggles with imposter syndrome, to Misa’s angst about whether she should stick with a stable job she knows or try for something more like what she really wanted, to …

just.

THIS SHOW.

I re-watched it last year and was struck all over again by how much I love Erika’s casual mentorship of Aoi; she’s one of my favorite characters, and I’m always sorry to see her disappear and I always cheer when she comes back.  

So what I’d really like to see this time is a story that focuses on their relationship.  A scenario where Erika helps point Aoi in the right direction?  When Aoi realizes Erika needs some support?

During that long gap when Erika is away caring for her father, do she and Aoi still stay in contact?  Does Aoi ever come visit?  

I’d just love to see more of these characters and their friendship.  

(Note: I do low-key ship Erika/Aoi, but I also am pretty iffy about workplace romance, especially in such a small workplace, and Erika especially seems like the sort to be level-headed about that sort of thing.  

So if you want to take things in a shippy direction, I’d like to request that it either stays at mutual pining or -- if they decide to make a go of an actual relationship -- actually addresses the workplace romance issue. One of them moves to a different company? idk.

But I’d also be 100% happy to see a fic that is completely gen, if that’s what you’d prefer. :) )

(And one final note: Hiraoka. I’m not sure I like him, exactly, but I’ve been uncomfortably close to where he is emotionally, so he gives me lots of complicated feelings.  So, if you choose to include him, please be kind?

And if you, too, have dealt with burnout - Erika and Hiraoka had a very interesting conversation at one point that made me think that Erika’s also uncomfortably familiar with it, but has just stabilized in a healthier place. If you wrote a story centered on that I’d probably love you forever, but I’m not sure it’s one even I’d be willing to attempt …)

Mouretsu Pirates | Bodacious Space Pirates

Requested character(s): Lynn Lambretta, Jenny Dolittle

Spoiler notes: I’ve watched the show and the movie.

Preferred pairings: Lynn/Jenny

… Yeah, no, I’m not even going to pretend that I’d be happy with gen when this is an actual canon relationship that is one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen.

(… Like, my high-pitched yelling about this pairing almost reaches the level of Uranus/Neptune back in my peak Sailor Moon fan years.  … … And that’s a lot. XD)

I meannnnn you can do gen if you reallllllly want to. :D I’m sure I’ll still enjoy it.  <3

But yeah, insofar as I have OTPs anymore, these two are definitely one of them. XD (And I’m hoping that if you’re offering these two characters, it’s because you ship them too. XD)

Ahem. Where was I?  

I really enjoy this show in general - it’s just so refreshingly, unabashedly fun; a lovely warm show about a bunch of ridiculous, adorable, and really damn competent girls being their awesome selves. (With a handful of fond, long-suffering adults on the side.) (And also piracy.)

And I love Jenny and Lynn in particular because even though they’re secondary characters, they exemplify this - every interaction Marika has with them, they’re being their competent, awesome selves, and it’s a true treat to watch.  

So please give me these two characters being being their badass competent selves.  Or give me something adorably fluffy with the two of them doing nothing in particular.  Give me them working together and sometimes having to remind each other to take a break and eat or sleep - or give me that year they spent separate, and their wistful pining, wishing they could reach each other through their holographic displays.  

(Okay, ngl, I have a special category of high-pitched yelling reserved for that phone conversation!! When Jenny is giving Lynn advice on being president!! And Lynn’s wistful-but-fond smile as she hangs up!!!)

In summary, please give me more of these adorable canon lesbians. <3

Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

Requested character(s): Nel Zelpher, Clair Lasbard

Spoiler notes: I’ve played the game and am ~ halfway through the manga and seriously wtf did you do to my favorite character less blushing more badassery for Apris’ sake!

Preferred pairings: Nel/Clair

Speaking of high-pitched yelling on the scale of Uranus/Neptune, I am fairly certain that Nel was my official first ever video game crush. This was a bit difficult for me to explain to myself, as I was convinced I was ~straight at the time, but she was so cool that I didn't bother to think about it in too much detail.

And when we are introduced to Clair as her partner, and every single scene in which the two appear makes it clear how strong their bond is -- it was a foregone conclusion that I would start to ship them as well. And Adray's obnoxious insistence on trying to find a husband for Clair just made me even more determined to headcanon them as lovers (or at the very least secretly pining for each other) in addition to partners.

As I said above with Lynn/Jenny -- if you don't ship them romantically, but just think they're great platonic partners, I'm sure I'll still enjoy it whatever you come up with. But in case there’s any doubt, I also very much ship them. :D <3

And either way, I just love their dynamic -- these two strong-willed, intelligent, fiercely competent women, working towards a shared goal that they both believe is more important than themselves. How deep and unshakeable their trust is -- and how even though it clearly tears Clair apart to send Nel out into a situation that they both know may not be survivable, she'll do it anyway. And Nel will go.

I don't have any specific prompts in mind -- if you want to write about a mission Clair has to send Nel off on, and the tension between their fear for and their trust in each other (and the knowledge hanging over both of them that they're doing something that they see as more important than them both), great! Want to just do fluffy interactions during a brief break from the action (do they get vacation? How many people do they have to bribe to get vacation at the same time?), or after the war is done and things are a bit more settled, go for it. In the narrative path where Nel goes with the party into space, does she think of Clair and all the stories she's going to tell once she gets back (if she gets back)?  What does Clair think, being left so much farther behind this time than any other time before?  What stories does Nel tell when they're reunited?

Got an idea that's burning in your mind and has nothing to do with any of these? I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you come up with. :)

Machineries of Empire Series - Yoon Ha Lee 

Requested character(s): Kel Cheris, Shuos Alaia

Spoiler notes: I’ve read both Ninefox Gambit and Raven Stratagem, and a decent number of the other vignettes/short stories in the world.  If you want to check whether I’ve read a specific story, feel free to shoot me an anon ask. :)

Preferred pairings: Cheris/Alaia

Ah, these books. Ninefox Gambit is one of my favorite books I've read this year, and its sequel, Raven Stratagem, was an entirely worthy follow-up. I'm really looking forwards to how the trilogy concludes in Revenant Gun, but in the meantime: fanfic! :D

I debated what I wanted to request, since there's a lot about this series that I like -- the fact that pretty much all of the characters are competent and Done With Your Shit, the way it sets up a horribly broken system and then doesn't flinch away from both how broken it is, and how the vast majority of people have just ... accustomed themselves to the situation, and make do while tolerating the horrible. It makes the system feel sustainable enough to have lasted this long, while still making it very clear why multiple someones would have gone to so much effort to try and tear it down. And yet, it also doesn't flinch from the consequences of the actions that the various characters take to try and tear it down, either. (One of the many reasons I'm looking forward to Revenant Gun -- I'm very curious to see what the consequences arise from the events in Raven Strategem.)

I really enjoy how many characters are queer (including trans!!), and how casually the narrative treats this fact. And the way that many characters' families are factored into their thoughts, even if they're not on the page, in a way that felt very true, but that I feel like doesn't often come up in other novels that aren't explicitly about something family-related.

The casual inclusion of dyscalculia and ADHD is also pretty great -- how it’s clearly an aspect of the characters that have shaped them, while even more clearly not being all their character is.

... So what do I decide to request this year?

Cheris and that one ex-girlfriend of hers who shows up for, like, a paragraph of flashback in Ninefox Gambit. XD

I just ... really liked that little bit of insight we got into Cheris’ history, and would love to see more.  How did they meet? Why did they break up?  What was the actual most ridiculous drama they watched, and how late did they stay up making fun of it?

Feel free to go in a more serious direction as well (what sort of training incident gave Alaia her nervous tic? what is being Shuos like to someone who didn’t go the flashy assassin route? How did being Kel and Shuos inform their interactions with each other, and the world around them).

And, as always, feel free to ignore my prompts entirely if there’s something you’d rather do instead. :D

[ylc1]

Fanfic Master List

Time to update my Master List once more! I do write a lot and inspiration insists on stricking me regardless of how many WIPs I have so… well.

Without further ado, enjoy!

Long term complications of arranged marriages

Myjohnlock, complete, 78800 words.

Summary: Originally, Mummy Holmes wanted to arrange a marriage for her younger son, not wanting him to be lonely. When Sherlock refused, Mycroft agreed to step in, which ended up with him marrying John Watson. Things worked well between them- until John met his brother-in-law.

Some personal notes on it: My first work for the fandom and I’m so ridiculously proud of it. I never actually intended for it to end the way it did, but boy was it a fun ride!

Additional notes: quite a lot of angst/hurt, conflicted feelings, more or less canon compliant. Ends more hopeful than happy.

Burned hearts

Johnlock, complete, 7300 words.

Summary: A retell from the scene at the pool in TGG, in which John is never revealed to be Moriarty’s hostage. Believing himself fooled, Sherlock goes through a bit of a meltdown.

Some personal notes on it: this idea came to me when I first watched TGG. I think that I could have expanded it so much more and make it even more angsty but well… I still like it.

Additional notes: angst, lots of self doubt, Sherlock doesn’t cope well, Mycroft and Greg are very concerned.

Pointless thoughts

Mystrade & Johnlock. First work of series, 10 works in the series, 102800 words overall. Complete.

Summary: Crown Prince Mycroft knows better than to show his affection for a man beneath his station. Sherlock is not quite as lucky and when the King finds out about his friendship with John, the later is sent away to his certain death. Devastated, the younger Prince awaits for death- until he finds he has something left to fight for and Mycroft finds himself fighting to protect his brother’s secret (and later his own)

Some personal notes: Pseudo historical settings are a weakness of mine. I was very pump up to work on these series and I enjoyed every second of it. Also, writing a whole fic from Mycroft’s POV was quite the experience (the main fic runs from his POV, the rest of the works run from Greg’s, Sherlock’s and John’s)

Additional notes: Royal AU, A/B/O dynamics, Mpreg and angst. Also a ridiculous amount of pining. Warnings for some dubcon in some of the works and a bit of Sheriarty.

Crush

Johncroft & Sherstrade, complete, 20000 words.

Summary: Sherlock has been nursing a crush on DI Greg Lestrade since they met. Of course the poor man has no clue whatsoever and somehow his newest friend, John Watson is stuck with the task of helping him win the other man over, all while attempting to deal with his own crush on the older Holmes.

Some personal notes: I started working on this in an attempt to get myself to work on the continuation of “Long term complications of arranged marriages”. Also, an attempt of humor, although I’m not sure how well it worked out.

Additional notes: attempted humor, silly situations, bit of rom com and perhaps a tad of angst here and there. Sort of canon compliant (if you ignore S3)

Apples and Oranges

Johnlock, complete, 600 words.

Summary: Kid Sherlock is attempting to figure out why would people like kissing. John helps.

Some personal notes: this was a fill in for a tumblr prompt. Just some kidlock fluff.

Additional notes: AU, kidlock, fluff.

Unexpected

Johnlock (side Mystrade and Irene/Kate), complete, 27600 words.

Summary: After a one night stand with his best friend, John is determined not to let things change between them. Except he’s now expecting a baby and finds himself in a bit of a mess.

Some personal notes: I mean- it’s the cliché of the clichés. Very rom com, but well… I enjoyed working on it very much.

Additional notes: A/B/O dynamics, Mpreg, attempted humor, rom com, misunderstandings, unplanned pregnancy, angst.

Unforeseen

Mystrade (side Johnlock), complete, 11500 words.

Summary: Mycroft’s family is convinced he and Greg would make a wonderful couple. Greg is willing, but Mycroft refuses to see sense.

Some personal notes: belongs in series with “Unexpected”, but it can pretty much stand on its own. A continuation of sorts, although the focus is definitely Greg’s and Mycroft’s relationship.

Additional notes: A/B/O dynamics, misunderstandings, humor & angst.

Long shot

Johnlock, complete, 44200 words.

Summary: Omega werewolf Sherlock is engaged to human Prince John, after having scared off his last suitor. It seems it might work out for the best though- at least until the Dark and Immortal Wizard Moriarty rises again.

Some personal notes: when I write original fiction, I tend towards fantasy with a mix of romance. Indulging in my love for both genres was a joy. Also, this was my work with most kudos for a long while, so I guess it shows ;)

Additional notes: A/B/O dynamics, Mpreg, arranged marriage, angst, pining, misunderstandings, Jim being Jim (he’s the perfect fairytale villain, honestly)

Wildest dreams

Johnlock (although victorian), complete, 3800 words.

Summary: Watson puts an end to his relationship with Holmes, in order to marry Mary Morstan.

Some personal notes: have I told you how I love Taylor Swift’s songs? I had been trying to avoid writing this particular fic because I worried about my abilities to write something with such a strict historical setting, but I should probably have stopped listening to the song because it soon became too much :P

Additional notes: victorian (but a bit loosely I think), angst, pining, unhealthy coping mechanisms… HAPPY ENDING

Mistaken impressions

Johnlock, WIP (on hiatus?)

Summary: John is convinced his neighbor’s boyfriend is a jerk. He sort of is, but he’s actually Sherlock’s brother.

Some personal notes: I liked this idea, but as I started writing… I lost my way a bit. So now I’m a bit stuck with is, since I have no idea where exactly I want to go with it.

Additional notes: references to past abusive relationships, past drug addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst, drama, pining, MISUNDERSTANDINGS and some attempts of humor.

Hopeless

Johnlock, complete, 45800 words.

Summary: John’s a slave in Lord Magnussen’s household. When a new slave arrives and the Master takes a fancy on her (although it’s really him), John finds himself doing the best he can to protect him.

Some personal notes: this idea came to me in a dream. Which is why it’s far darker than my usual writings and also the reason for Trans Sherlock. I don’t like fighting my inspiration and well… I went with it, even if it added another layer of complications to this particular fic.

Additional notes: trans character, misgendering, implied/referenced noncon (although there’s nothing explicit), underage (it’s never explicitly stated, but Sherlock is 14 when the fic starts), slavery, sexual slavery, very dark, very angsty, mentions of violence, murder and abuse. It has a happy/hopeful ending, though!

Home for Christmas

Johnlock, complete, 8500 words.

Summary: When Mycroft Holmes informs his family he’s bringing along a friend for Christmas, the household is thrown into utter chaos: Mummy Holmes is delighted, of course and Mr. Holmes is just baffled. Sherlock, however, is determined to figure out what is his brother up to. Mycroft doesn’t do friendships, let alone relationships, so who is this mysterious Dr. John H. Watson and what’s his business with his brother?

Some personal notes: this is the actual summary on AO3, but I really don’t know a better way to describe it ;) I think my attempt of humor did work here, even if it endeded up including a bit of angst (but not much)

Additional notes: Alternate First Meeting, humor, Christmas fic, misunderstandings (of a sort), family.

Black magic

Johnlock, complete, 7400 words.

Summary: John ends up with a magic love potion (he was drunk, don’t judge him!) and in a fit of desperate longing, he gives it to Sherlock. He didn’t expect it to work since magic does not exist, so he’s a little baffled when Sherlock starts acting weirdly.

Some personal notes: this was the first fic I meant to write for the fandom. I never got around finishing until now, when I figured I might as well give it another try. I think it could have been longer, but I had no idea what else to write :P

Additional notes: attempt of humor, magic, a surprising amount of discussion of consent issues, not actually unrequited love.

Lessons in romance

Mystrade & Johnlock, 49300 words.

Summary: Sherlock may or may not be stalking the boy he likes. Mycroft has no wisdom to share with his little brother on the subject of romance and Greg is not helping at all.

Some personal notes: I got inspired to write this after listening to a song in spanish called “Rey Azul”. I’ve always wanted to write a teenlock and I adore writing the Holmes brothers as being completely oblivious on the subject of romance. Somehow, it turned angstier than I expected. My only work with over 500 kudos, which makes me ridiculously happy, obviously.

Additional notes: humor (at first), teenlock, heartbreak, jealousy, pining, bad family relationships.

All is fair (in love and war)

Johnlock, complete, 6300 words.

Summary: Eurus’ “game” forces John and Sherlock to confess long hidden feelings. It turns out as well as you’d expect.

Some personal notes: It started as a rewrite of the “I love you” scene in TFP, turned into a sort of fix it fic. I like it, even if I’m not completely sure the logic holds :P

Additional notes: angst, drama, hurt without comfort, but has a happy ending!

Priceless   

Johnlock, WIP.

Summary: Sherlock is a Prince with a Kingdom at war. He makes a deal with the all powerful wizard called “the Dark One”; the wizard will stop the war if Sherlock stays with him forever.

Some personal notes: this fic is result of the FandomTrumpsHate auction, for the lovely @sherlock-and-john-getting-it-on​. I was asked for a “Beauty and the Beast” inspired fic with John as the Beast. I asked for the chance to use the Once Upon a Time spin of the tale and this is the result.

Additional notes: magical AU, pining, misunderstandings (they’re both so silly it hurts!), includes my attempt of some proper smut, Jim wrote himself into it and in doing that provided me with an ending :P

Of love, madness and other powerful motivators

Some background Johnlock, Warstan, but relationships aren’t the focus. WIP (on hiatus).

Summary: Jim shoots himself at Bart’s ceiling and Sherlock jumps to save the people he loves (read John Watson); what he doesn’t know is that there are other forces at play and revenge is a dish best served cold. Jim’s turn has ended, but Eurus’ is just beginning.

Some personal notes: after reading many wonderful posts after the S4 finale, one point that really stuck me was about badly written female characters. It made me realize I don’t write that many female characters either and I don’t know if I’m any good at it so… this was born. Running with the idea that Mary worked for Jim, and (in this fic at least) by extension, Eurus.

Additional notes: angst, complicated relationships, mixed feelings, Eurus is actually out for revenge, imagining a whole alternate line for S4.

Saving all my love for you

Johnlock, WIP (on hiatus).

Summary: Unrequited love is no fun.

Some personal notes: I just wanted to write something angsty, heart tugging. There isn’t much plot, really, just a lot of pining and self reflection.

Additional notes: based on the song by the same title,angst, pining, sad, unilock.

Little lies and crazy plans

Mystrade & Johnlock, complete, 12300 words.

Summary: Sherlock recruits Greg’s help to seduce his brother away so he can have his boyfriend. But nothing is quite what it seems.

Some personal notes: A short silly story with a fake/pretend relationship that occurred to me because I re-read my own fic, “Long term complications of arranged marriages” and wanted to write some Johncroft with Johnlock but I couldn’t bring myself to make it angsty (again)

Additional notes: humor, alternate first meeting, fake/pretend relationship (John & Mycroft), jealousy, pining.

The art of letting go 

Johnlock, complete, 47400 words.

Summary: Sherlock convinces himself that if he can’t remember what happened on the stag night, then it didn’t happen at all. Until he finds out he’s pregnant and he can’t keep pretending, that is.

Some personal notes: Oh, I loved working on this. I have a thing for unplanned pregnancies (as you can probably tell) and while writing a character as trans always makes me nervous, I thought it worked well. The story is very angsty at points and it doesn’t get hopeful until the very end so… be warned!

Additional notes: Trans character, Mpreg, angst (a lot), jealousy, pining, Mary and John are married but she isn’t pregnant, pos TSoT, follows HLV more or less.

Baby, don't call me your friend

Mollrene, side Johnlock, WIP.

Summary: Irene watches John and Sherlock dance around each other while she avoids thinking of her own crush on her friend Molly.

Some personal notes: Another idea that came to me through music… I like it, but I’m not quite sure where it is going :P

Additional notes: alternate universe-high school, jealousy, pining, humor.

There’s always time for love (even at the end of the world)   

 Johnlock (1st chapter), Mollrene (2nd chapter), complete, 3700 words

Summary: In the middle of a Zombie Apocalypse, John and Sherlock run into Dr. Irene Adler while on a supply run.

Some personal notes: My daughter ADORES zombie movies, which translates on me having watched almost every single one on netflix. So of course inspiration struck.

Additional notes: alternate universe-zombie apocalypse, referenced past character death (that’s one hell of a downside with zombie apocalypses), jealousy, romance

Dutifulness

Mystrade, WIP.

Summary: As the clan’s Heir, Mycroft is expected to choose an appropriate Mate.

But the one he would willingly choose is far from appropriate.

Some personal notes: this one belongs in series with “Long shot”. I always intended to include some Mystrade there, but it didn’t quite work out and well… I finally got around writing this companion piece that stands well on its own.

Additional notes: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, class differences (somewhat), pining, light angst.

Bad timing 

Johnlock, side Mystrade, WIP

Summary:Having run away from home after finding out his family was planning on sending him as a tribute to the Fire Lord, Sherlock somehow finds himself joining the rebellion.

Some personal notes: this one is a submission for the June’s hiatustory challenge. Also, I had been wanting to write an Avatar AU, so it seemed like the perfect chance ;)

Additional notes: alternate universe-avatar and bender’s setting, pining, jealousy, secret identity, romance.

A fortunate encounter

Johnlock, complete, 3300 words.

Summary:While escaping a group of enemy soldiers, Sherlock ends up in a mysterious island.

Some personal notes: after watching the Wonder Woman movie I couldn’t contain myself and ended up writing this short thing ;)

Additional notes: Wonder Woman AU, love at first sight, spoilers for the movie (somewhat, but not really), romance.

And that’s it for now! I hope you’ll enjoy them and if you could reblog this to share with your followers I’d be most thankful! :D

Also, if you enjoy my works and have any money to spare, I could really use help to pay my graduation fees, so you could Buy Me a Coffee