#i need a new tag for when asks are straight up baffling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

catiuskaa · 1 year ago

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shoot on sight [straight through my heart]

TROPE! enemies2lovers crack+smut?, inspired by a post in Pinterest I can’t find~! —angy noises—p.d. nvm: here it is -not angy noises-

and it’s also a way of making me post after Hannie’s n Lix’s birthday!! \(๑>◡<๑)/

PROMPT: “Take me to laser tag, push me against a corner, pin me to the wall and make out with me, then shoot me and walk away.”

WC: 5k.

CW: language, mentions of dacryphilia, mentions of spanking, bullshit n crack in almost every dialogue, alcohol, they’re both drunk but it’s ok, then I got carried away: mentions of public sex, use of pet names “sweetheart, kitten” (IK BUT SPARE ME, IT'S MINHO OK, I HAD TO), fingering (f), oral (f), hand kink?, panty stealing "borrowing". (I really NEED to touch some grass...)

Don’t forget to have fun, my loves!

[☆ ☆ 👾 ☆ ☆]

"Minho, there’s something we need to talk about," you mentioned almost in a whisper, being careful not to be eavesdropped by accident by the rest of the crew, who were too bothered choosing who would need to call for an Uber.

It was kind of a weird statement, the one a quiet yet mean part of your brain came up with as you stared at one of the guests at Han and Felix’s birthday party.

You’d denied it if asked, just for the sake of your shared friends, but the only thing you’d like there to be between Lee Minho and yourself was a dense, thick concrete wall. As dense as the man’s mind: you enjoyed lying to yourself and pretending that he couldn’t take a hint regarding your attitude towards each other.

But no. The disgustingly oh-so-attractive man who had been staring at you from afar as the group divided themselves on how to go to where Chan had booked —pfft, no, you were sure he was fully aware of the effect he had on you, making your blood feel like raging fire in your veins as his mocking set you aflame as fast as a matchstick.

“Oh, really?” He questioned with a smug smile, yet wrinkled brows in confusion.

“It’s their party, and I don’t want to ruin the fun for ‘em. So I think we should call for a recess. A truce.”

He blinked, the smile on his face losing intensity. You dragged your hand through your face, wondering what was so difficult for him not to understand.

“I mean no fighting. Just for today, if you feel like it’s that hard to not resent me and bicker out loud,” you said in a huff, pouting unconsciously.

His act dropped altogether, and he stared at you, puzzled. “Resent you?” He repeated, as if the sole idea of you and hate in the same sentence was pure madness.

You let out a dry chuckle, feeling your chest tightening. The least he could do was accept it, but he had the nerve to play dumb? Your shoulders tensed up, and you had to force yourself to stay calm, sighing quite loudly. God, maybe the night was going to be harder than planned.

“It’s obvious you don’t like me, but still, I think we could drop it for Han and Lix.” You mentioned roughly, noticing someone approaching you two, and quickly approached him further, setting a big smile on your face. He remained baffled, eyes lost somewhere you couldn't reach.

"Hate you? I-"

Han approached you two, a huge smile on his face. You smiled back, your hand travelling to Minho’s and giving it a big squeeze, as if signing peace for the day, ending the discussion and making him stop mid-sentence.

“C’mon, guys!” Han cheered, passing an arm around your shoulders, separating you from Minho and arriving with you to the parking lot.

Coming down the cars, the group followed Chan and Seungmin, who knew the place and had been there before.

“Welcome to Blackout Lazz! How can I help you guys?”

Chan mentioned the booking he had made, and when all was settled, everyone was instructed to enter a different room with a whole new vibe, purple lights reflecting neon designs that looked like graffiti in what resembled an abandoned urban location. The girl from the entrance explained that the group would have to be separated into two teams. Han and Felix decided they’d lead separately, then chose members.

Felix’s team was Chan, Seungmin, Jeongin, and you, whereas Han’s consisted of Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin. You laughed as Hyunjin complained about the extra member of your team.

“Deal with it, Jin!” You giggled, teasing, team Felix sitting on the other side of the room, who had large benches in a sort of staircase design, allowing everyone to have a seat.

“Don’t worry, Hyunjin, they need another member because they wouldn’t be able to compete with us if it was a fair fight.”

You tensed your jaw as you burnt holes in Minho’s neck, Han chuckling and high-fiving his friend.

What a bitch.

You noticed him looking at you from above his shoulder and winking at you.

boi-?!

“Okay! I’ll explain the game quickly just in case,” the employee from the desk smiled sheepishly, and you let out a sigh, trying to keep your anger for the game, hearing what the girl was saying.

In summary, everyone had three weak points: the chest, the back and the head. Each player started with three possible resets, meaning that after being shot on each weak point, they’d have another life, much like any game. The score worked depending on how many weak points you hit and how many players you could reset or eliminate. The back counted the least, then the chest and the most was the head because of how tricky it could be to aim.

Everyone started teasing and mocking the other group as another door opened, helping the team members to tie and put correctly the gear.

“Your gun will tell you how many lives you have left, and its light will turn red if you get shot at. To recharge bullets, aim down then press the button at the side.” She explained, passing a keycard over all of the guns, and turning them on. “If anything happens with the gear, this area will remain open and I’ll be here to reset your weapons or help you,” she explained, then hesitated before adding. “Refrain from practicing difficult stunts. Running is fine, but still, be careful,” she said in a huff, still smiling knowingly, and you all giggled lowly, as if she had ruined plans already made.

She passed said keycard over a panel, making another door open. Each gun turned a different colour, Lix’s team yellow and Han’s purple. They decided to play rock, paper, scissors to see which team could go in first.

“Hey there,” Minho whispered behind you, making you jump in your place, startled because of him, his voice, and how the fuck he could be so stealthy some time.

To you, it was always him.

You frowned, but before you could say anything, he smiled slyly. “Truce or not, it won’t make a difference to how I’m going to beat you today.”

You let out a dry cackle.

“Am I going to end up crying because of you? Maybe ending up getting spanked for losing?” You mocked, watching his shit-eating grin grow bigger on his face.

“Oh, most definitely,” he said, smug. “You’ll hate it.”

The mean laugh you let out confused him a bit. “Quite the contrary, honestly” you teased. “It adds to the kink list.”

You stared at the two birthday boys with a small yet naughty smile. It would have been more of a quote, rather than you couldn't pinpoint who had said it before, but a particular sentence suddenly floated its way into your mind.

If you keep shoving an animal into a cage, one of these days, it's going to fight back.

Having kept all to yourself, you were certainly going to use this as an opportunity to get your revenge and make Minho meet his doom.

Felix had won (as usual), and you smiled at Minho, showing off your middle finger as he stared at you with wide eyes, still assuming what you had said a minute ago. It certainly had to be the effect of the purple light and the smoke machine that worked just at the entrance of the playroom, but if you didn’t know better, you would’ve said he was blushing.

Nah. You shook your head sideways, scanning the area.

Several paths and entrances covered the place, some access to higher levels hidden behind walls and other different materials that contributed to the theme planned, toxic-appearing barrels laying around in a specific order, yellow do-not-cross tapes broken in some door to add to the eerie atmosphere. Smoke from different machines covered parts of the playroom, purple and white lights being the only illumination in every hallway.

“We need people upstairs,” Chan mentioned with a mischievous smile, known to be the pro at laser tag, running as fast as he did.

Felix nodded almost aggressively, the helmet being a bit big on him, making him look rather goofy. You giggled to yourself.

“Yeah. There are three levels." He said, almost to himself. "Maybe Innie and Chan Hyung could stay in this one, then…”

“Seungmin and I can take the third floor,” you said, almost dramatically, fist-bumping him, both smiling almost sadistically. “You guys can swap and buzz around first and second. Sounds ok?”

As everyone was happy, the team separated itself, each player looking for places to hide until the other team showed up.

“Minnie,” you called, stopping him from going further into the third floor. “You can stay close to this way up, and I’ll look for another one,” you offered, and he nodded, smiling widely.

“Let’s make them eat dirt!” You both celebrated, laughing, then separated again.

Sounds coming from the lower levels, loud steps and gunshots accompanied by screams and noisy laughs made their way up, not reverberating, but still loud enough to make you smile cheekily, already excited.

You kept looking for another way down, but then you heard a gunshot, and your back buzzed, your gun quickly glowing red.

You turned around, hearing a noisy, “YOOOHH BITCHES!” and couldn’t help but laugh loudly.

“Changbin, you traitor!” You shouted, running behind him. “I’ll sell my Dwaekki plushie on Ebay!”

You stopped the chase, panting. A thought came to mind that it had been suicide to play a running and reflexes-related game with people who lived for the gym and sports, or at least most of them.

Spotting Hyunjin, you smiled meanly when you shot him in the back.

“WHAT?!” He screamed, confused. "I DON'T GET THIS GAME!""

Your face was red from all the laughing and running, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. After a bit, you had shot Hyunjin around four times, Han three, and got your revenge on Changbin by getting his last shot and eliminating him. But you hadn’t been able to find the one person you wanted to fight against the most.

Your team wasn’t too much better than the rival. Chan stood firm, only having two shots left, but if you were correct, Lixxie was at one hit, and you and Seungmin were close to that, too. Jeongin was probably playing UNO with Changbin outside.

“Where is this bitch hiding?” You panted, running around before encountering Lix, whose face was red from all the exercise, his hair messily tied up. Now, as a duo, you scanned the second floor for the tenth time.

“Have you seen Minho?” You inquired, and let out a sly smile when he nodded.

“I heard him tell Han he’s almost out, but he’s using Hyunjin as a shield, so that’s that,” you both laughed, he stayed looking around as you layed on a wall, catching your breath.

All of a sudden, he let out a gasp, his gun glowing red.

“From the back?!” He groaned loudly, whispering insults as he tried to place who had shot his final.

“Man, you’re as bad as in League,” you mocked, wheezing, as he rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Say whatever, but if I’m out, you’re alone. Good luck with that fucking camper!”

You grinned, staying behind that wall, knowing that whoever had eliminated Felix couldn’t reach you from that angle.

Minutes passed in what felt like hours. Soon enough, you and Chan were the only ones left in team Felix, and Minho was the remaining soldier fighting for team Han.

“Let’s divide again, there’s only ten minutes left,” Chan said in a huff.

You started lazily running away, but then heard gunshots from behind, Chan’s laugh almost echoing in the playroom.

“Don’t let that cheater win!” He screamed before heading to the exit.

There were seven minutes left.

It was almost anxiety-threatening, roaming around each and every nook and cranny of the place, unable to find Minho.

A static-like sound came from several speakers on the walls.

“The remaining players will play in Blackout mode! Let it be a one-shot winner!” the voice said, sounding similar to the girl from the entrance. “No campers allowed, team Han!”

The white lights suddenly turned off, leaving you alone in a purple-illuminated space. You sucked air in from your teeth, your body tensing. That was good because now you could find him, but at the same time, it wasn't. Now, there was no chance of you knowing where or when he would strike, the light not actually doing anything except colouring the playroom.

You started walking around aimlessly, passing your hand through your hair in a nervous tick from time to time. Until you got to a dead-end.

It was a big room at the end of a hallway, close enough to the exit that you were sure Minho wouldn’t think about searching inside, spacious enough to hold different walls and obstacles to hide and take cover.

In your head, he should’ve been struggling for a while before finding you, letting you shoot easily at him the moment he’d find you.

Instead, a sudden presence approached you from behind. You felt his body pressed on yours, and before you could even aim or shoot, he quickly gripped the hand you held your gun with, separating it from him as he turned you around, now facing him.

There was no place for what or any insults you could’ve thought of as he sharply and decisively trapped your lips with his.

You let out a confused sound, his touch feeling almost abrasive as you had been sweating for what felt like days but had only been half an hour, the taste of his lips so weirdly enticing that even if you hadn’t moved, it strangely made you crave for more.

He stopped and backed away when he noticed you stayed still, but in a rushed impulse, you took him from the collar of his shirt with your free hand, the other one still under his, gun in hand, and pulled him back in.

You felt him smile in the kiss, pressing you a bit more against the wall behind you as it started growing more intense, deeper by every second. Your free hand laid on his chest, allowing you to notice his heart racing in a rhythm you didn't expect —but even if you didn’t know just yet, the reason for his racing heartbeat wasn't the whole 'shoot on sight” deal. It was you.

To him, it was always you.

You broke the kiss, trying to assume what had just happened. It felt impossible, yet it still made your insides churn and turn, and it had only been a kiss.

You had always secretly wished for a concrete wall between him and you, yet funnily enough, it sat behind you, allowing him to keep you in his arms, and you, not even thinking of pushing him away.

The air seemed to crackle with anticipation. The tension in the purple-lit room was palpable, like a storm about to break. His dark eyes locked with yours in a passionate gaze and then, with a sudden surge of longing, met you halfway, closing the gap.

Your mouths met, not in a gentle or hesitant manner, but with an almost reckless abandon. It was as if a fuse had been lit, and even if you still felt like a matchstick being turned on, this had a way different meaning in your head now. You could've sworn it had changed your brain chemistry.

The sensation was intense, like being caught in the midst of a raging wildfire. Tongues that danced in a wild, untamed rhythm, tasting the heat and desire that enveloped them, fueled by the rage, the adrenaline, the sudden desire that started to creep out from its cage. It was a kiss that left you both breathless, their hearts racing, and their bodies tingling with a shared, burning intensity.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed, lost in the flames of the moment, until you pushed him slightly to catch some air.

His grip on you lost tension as he stayed still, almost panting.

“Players! There’s only one minute left!”

You bit your lip slightly, but right before you could react, he directed his gun towards your chest, and shot you.

You stared at him in disbelief, wide eyes and mouth shyly parted.

“That has got to be cheating.” You muttered.

He smiled slyly, aproaching you again, settling his free hand on the wall behind you, trapping you back.

He gave you a small peck.

“Pfft. Sue me, kitten.”

Walking towards the exit, he winked before dissapearing behind the walls, leaving.

[☆ ☆ 👾 ☆ ☆]

“How does it feel? The loss? The pain?” Han mentioned smugly as you came back from the toilet, now wearing a simple skirt and a top as Jisung cockily pranced around, as if he had been the one that had given you your last shot when of course, it had to be Minho.

Thinking about him made you bite your lip. He was nowhere to be found, and it was eating you from your insides. In the best way possible, of course, ‘cause thanks to him, the game had ended with you in a… particular situation.

You sat, and rubbed your thighs together, but still deadpanned at Jisung.

“Shut the fuck up, you were eliminated before we even reached 15 minutes. Game lastes 30. Let that sink in, birthday moron,” you smirked.

Laughing at his fake childish sadness, you tried to forget about what had happened in the playroom. How he had settled his thigh in between yours. How he had bit your lips, then softly passed his tongue over, almost soothing. How he had pushed you against the wall, caging you between it and his broad figure. How he…

“Hey, you ok?” Felix approached, a sheepish grin on his features, yet brows arched in what you then recognised as worry. “Your face is all red. Here, have some water.”

Just after he had mentioned it, you felt your cheeks hot, and acknowledged your warm state. You wished they hadn’t turned even more red when you blinked awkwardly at the realization, hoping to drown as you drinked from what he had handed you.

“Thanks, Lix. So… what’s the plan?”

“Mmhm… Jisung wants to go get drunk, his words, not mine,” he smiled. “His argument is that winners choose, and honestly, I can’t really argue about that,” his hand brushed his hair back as he laughed softly.

Everyone gathered in a resting space crowded with sofas, in the main area of the building, after Chan and Minho had called for an Uber.

That’s when you saw him again, and you had never imagined the thoughts that would instantly crawl their way to your mind —which was something, considering the wide range that your imagination could reach sometimes.

In that moment, it was as if the relization hit you, bluntly and unexpected, having been hidden and buried under piles of childish arguments and pride.

But god, after what had happened, you couldn’t help but accept your fate.

The man looked absolutely scrumptious.

“Do you mind?” He asked, getting close to you.

His lips, full and enticing, made you lick your own. You couldn’t help but think if its intense pinkish colour had always been like that or if it had been something more recent, something like yours on him, nibbing, kissing—

“Mmhm?” You pondered, still lost in your thoughts, not understanding.

“I want to sit, idiot.” He gestured to the small yet free space next to you, grin shining on his face. You blinked, cheeks further red, and scooched over the other side, making space for him.

You body tensed up when his hand grazed your leg. It was as if he had turned off a switch you didn’t know existed, making you unable to focus on anything else, the small chat that the group was having already forgotten.

He gave you a quick glance, as if checking if you looked uncomfortable, but you didn’t dare to say anything. Instead, when you felt like he was going to move his hand away, you rushed yours over it, shyly sliding it a bit further on your thigh.

He almost choked with his own saliva, quickly grunting and clearing his throat, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, Earth calling to Minho…?”

Both of you turned to face Changbin. He had a smirk on his face that lasted no longer than a blink, but you felt that maybe there was something you were not getting.

“You guys weren’t paying attention, so you’re stuck to go on Uber,” Seungmin said as he put his jacket on. “Han, Hyunjin, Chan, Changbin and me are taking the old man’s car.”

“Seungmin, that’s treason!”

“Fuck off!” He laughed, leaving.

The car ride had a special tension between Minho and you, again, sitting next to each other, his hand drawing patterns midlessly on your upper thigh that made you bite your lip the whole journey to the bar.

Getting off the vehicle, the cold night air hugged you tightly, the warm, fuzzy feeling inside you not leaving fully.

“Girl, c’mere! We’re doing shots!” Hyunjin took you by your arm, dragging you inside and close to the bartender, who served you your drinks with in an amazing speed.

Drink after drink, the dizziness in your body grew more intense. You chugged each glass hoping to make this new feeling of longing and desperation go away, but as you both stared at each other even when in opposites sides of the bar, the sensation took over your body as he eye-fucked you across the dance floor.

Hyunjin ditched you quickly, as drunk as he was, not really on purpose, rather just too into the music that the crowd separated you from him, but you were quickly surrounded by another body.

It wasn’t who you thought —or wished, much to what a much sober, small and confused part of your brain still struggled to grasp—, his touch not feeling as warm as back in the playroom.

This new guy smiled at you when you turned around, as if saying ‘hey, girl.’ Maybe he had even said it, but you hadn’t heard it due to the loud music blasting on the place.

Or because you stumbled and crashed against another hard and lean surface, one that sneakly settled a hand on your waist, moving you further against him.

“Mine,” he stated, and you didn’t know why but in that moment the sureness in his voice made you almost tremble —or however the fuck it was called, but with the amount of booze in your head, you didn’t care.

The guy frowned, but fortunately was quickly taken by another man, who smiled uncomfortably, leaving as he mumbled what sounded like scolding to his friend.

You laughed goofily at the sight, not noticing how Minho pulled you from your wrist until you had left the crowd and as he let you use him as a way of stabilizing yourself.

He couldn’t lie to himself, he had to be drunk too, maybe not as bad as you were, but he definetely was, or he wouldn’t have been able to pull of what had happened two minutes ago.

“It’s so hot in here…” you whined childishly. He guided you to the bathrooms —or what he guessed was the bathroom— and let you find your way towards the sink, as you splashed water on your face.

The main area of the bathroom was a shelf-like sink with a big mirror. Behind you and Minho, two different doors, one for men, and one for women, and to your left, the one for physically disabled people

“What was that in the dance floor?” He wondered, staring at you through the mirror.

You turned around, laying your weight on the sink, showing off a smirky grin. “Well, he showed up. And with you leaving me as horny as I feel, I think it is bound to happen that I may have some fun tonight.”

“With him? In that skirt?” He grunted, not really showing if he thought of the idea as something funny or stupid.

“I mean, you haven’t done too much to give me other options, no?”

In large but painfully slow steps, his hands laid next to your body, by your sides, leaning in so you’d be face to face.

“Really? I haven’t?” He murmured, eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips, licking his own. He let out a chuckle when you shook your head sideways. “What if… I offer myself as an option?”

You smiled, giggling, the alcohol not letting you fully control the emotions you chose to display.

“You’d like that, huh?” He teased, his breath smelling like a mix of drinks that you suddenly craved more than anything.

You hands traveled to the neck of his shirt. “Am I that transparent?”

The moment you pulled and met him half way, you never realized how hard it would be to stop.

His hands roamed over his favourite areas of your body, which seemed to be all of them. Uncontrolled sounds creeped out as his lips traced open-mouthed kisses on your neck, moving up to lick behind your earlobe. You felt your body weaken at the sensation of his lips.

"Did you enjoy it?"

His question, as well as the alcohol running down your blood, baffled you, not letting you understand. "W-What?"

"Leaving me so fucking hard, sweetheart. You owe me one."

Bitting your lip as his actions grew intense, you stared at him.

"I never asked you... to leave."

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck.

"I'm not leaving now..."

"B-but this is just... revenge..." biting your lip harder didn't cover the sounds you were making, but Minho loved every one of them.

"Revenge?" You feel him smile on your skin, his hand lowering towards your ass, shamelessly gripping and fondling it under your skirt. You tremble in his arms. "That's a strong word... but no, I don't want that..."

You lick your lips, trying to soften them after biting too hard, feeling a small dent mark on them, knowing your lipstick has got to be everywhere except your lips— Minho's now coloured in the same soft cherry colour, looking glossy and pink and so goddam kissable.

"Then what do you want?"

His hands trailed mindless figures, marking a path to where you both knew you needed him the most, and you visibly shook when he graced his hand over it, softly stroking your inner thighs.

Okay, that was very clear.

Your mind flashes thoughts of you hating him, and a small part of you doesn't know why you're letting him touch you like this, but as his hand goes below your skirt and above and his fingers start moving softly over your underwear, you choose to make future you worry about the outcomes.

Tonight's main course is him and his beautiful hands torturing you with pleasure.

Minho groans slightly, and you could swear it's the best sound you've ever heard. "God, you feel so wet already..." You whine as he keeps a dreadfully slow pace, moving his hand in small circles, and his words only make the pleasure pool in your lower belly.

"Minho..." You moaned because not one of you cared if he just dragged you inside the bathroom to finger you when everyone was partying and dancing right next door.

He hummed, grinning, so close to you that you felt the alcohol breath surround you, almost as if you were drinking it yourself.

"Sweetheart."

His voice was not the cockily and irritating automatic voice you were used to when bickering and teasing. Instead, it was low, full of lust, and his breathing was so close to erratic that you almost laugh in disbelief. This wasn’t what you had planned for today. No, you would've never thought of this, but right now, there was nothing you'd rather be doing.

"Want me to put my fingers inside you? To make this pretty pussy mine? Yes? Use your words, kitten," he teases. “I know you can.”

You could feel every word, every syllable, all over your skin as goosebumps spread through your body.

You nodded eagerly and managed to mutter out a quiet "yes," and as soon as he started moving, you knew you wouldn’t last shit.

You were a mess, moaning and shaking uncontrollably, not sober enough to notice when he pulled your panties down just enough so he could start a full-on make-out with your "pretty pussy"— his words, not mine.

His face was buried deep between your thighs and half-hidden under your skirt, as his only free hand sank into your ass, squeezing it as he sucked your clit into his mouth in a way that made you forget not only left or right, but also up and down.

His pace increased as he coordinated his fingers with his tongue, and it was game over. if he hadn't been holding your body, you knew your legs wouldn't have supported you through it. You whimpered and moaned, not even getting to warn him as pleasure and heat flooded your entire body.

With a pleased smile on his face, Minho leaned back, removing his fingers from inside you, not flinching once as he locked his eyes with yours and sucked his fingers into his mouth.

Mind still in bliss, you let out a whine, back to biting your lip, taking his face in your hands and crashing your lips on his, tasting you on his tongue.

“Sweetheart," he whispered almost on your lips.

He bent again, giving a small tap on your ankles.

The black-laced fabric that had been covering you before was now deep inside his pocket.

"M-Minho...!"

He chuckled, fixing your hair in soft movements.

"Let's leave before I fuck you in a bathroom stall."

"But my panties—"

He placed a finger on your lips, shushing you with a smug smirk.

"Mine. Keepin' 'em for later. Now, c'mon, before you make me even crazier."

[hard hours]

[☆ ☆ 👾 ☆ ☆]

~Kats, who feels weirdly strange about writing smut, but also feels her liked posts, Wattpad and AO3 tabs plus actual physical books stare at her in disbelief.

happee birthdae to my favorite boys!! <3

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queer-and-nerdy · 10 months ago

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as a blue ridge rock festival 2023 survivor i’m imagining l&co going to a rock/metal festival and it’s CARNAGE right (this is based on my experience with festivals in the u.s. i’ve never been to any in europe LMAO) also obligatory @wellgoslowly tag <3

the three of them go for all 4 days with on-site camping but they decide to share a single tent because “it’ll be cheaper and we already live together so how bad can it be?” BAD VERY BAD. fortunately, the weather was good but lucy forgot to take into account how much she and george snack when they get stressed. her and george take turns driving to and from the festival (lockwood is a registered passenger princess i love him but also don't trust him behind the wheel), but lucy is the one to park in the campground as george made several domestic and international terror threats if he had to pull into "that shitshow of a lot, are you mad?? who's idea was this, anyways? not mine, that's for sure. park the damn car without killing us, please and thank you." their three sleeping bags barely fit the floor of the tent, so the first night they spend practically curled up together. george, unable to handle the sheer amount of LocklyleTM, decides to sleep in the car for the rest of the weekend. lucy and lockwood try to sleep in an inconspicuous/non-awkward way, but somehow find themselves tangled up in each other's arms. neither of them comment on this, but they also don't separate right away (they make me sick). they all wear matching noise-muffling headphones that lucy made for them (lucy's hearing is already somewhat impaired and she takes care of her body; george bitches about his hearing being fine despite staying close enough to be able to touch the stage for every set he attends and complaining about a "weird ringing noise" constantly; lockwood never takes his off, even sleeping with them on - lucy drew little hearts on his). the three of them also spent the week leading up to the festivals making kandi bracelets to hand out, which earns them some friends they keep for years.

lockwood (the masochist that he is) has the time of his life all weekend. he’s thriving on the loud music and shitty overpriced food. he desperately wants to mosh but doesn’t realize that you don’t really have to ask to join, and his first few attempts just result in him either acting as a wall or getting pushed out of the way entirely. once he finally pushes his way into a decent-sized pit, he instantly gets sucker punched and george has to take him to the first aid tent (they give him a small bottle of water and tell him to “take it easy”). he doesn't sing along for any sets he attends, instead enjoying hearing the combination of the band and the audience. he stays on the festival grounds from first set to last, and when he returns to the campsite he spends several more hours chatting with their neighbors. he loves discovering new bands and genres despite how picky he is and gets along great with the people he stands around (except the person that kept talking shit about metallica). music is a great escape for him and helps him pass the time in his everyday life. it acts as a grounding force in his life, and something about the heavy bass provided by the live music gives him a sense of reality. despite his increasing lack of sleep each night he somehow is more energized each day. this baffles lucy and george, who are running on the fumes of fumes. hypothetically his positive attitude would make him an ideal tentmate, except for the unfortunate fact that not only are the showers largely inaccessible but he gets it into his head that “there aren’t showers in the wild; therefore, i don’t need to take any.” lucy and george set him straight the second night with some not so thinly veiled threats.

lucy is the one to suggest the festival as a “much needed vacation.” she is also the first to regret actually following through on it. she spends the hottest parts of the day in the shade of their campsite, usually only showing up for the headliners at the end of the night as well as some smaller bands she researched ahead of time. although george teases her for "hiding," she ends up being the only one to make it out without any medical issues or injuries. she makes sure to pack the right amount of food for the three of them as well as budgeting for festival food but she would rather die than pay $13 for a slice of pizza. she designates herself as the merch martyr, standing in line for two hours to get the three of them anything and everything they could afford (one shirt each and a magnet for their kitchen). however much she complains, though, she fully enjoys herself the whole time. she allows herself the freedom to relax in what would otherwise be a stressful environment for her, and she makes a few good friends. like lockwood, music is an escape for her, but instead of giving her a sense of reality, she finds it gives her an outlet to be someone she usually isn't. in a large crowd, with no one's eyes on her and any internal thoughts muffled by the loud music, she can let go and lose herself to the experience. she doesn't mosh but instead stands to the side and observes the moshers and crowd surfers. she becomes so wrapped up in the performances that, despite knowing all of the songs, often doesn't sing along.

george, like myself, has a myriad of health conditions, so the fact that he survived the entire weekend is surprising enough. lucy enlists lockwood's help to hold a gun to george's head to force him to take his binder off periodically. he hasn't had a drop of water in months and certainly isn't planning on starting now, which frustrates lucy to no end. the only compromise he makes is purchasing a case of gatorade, which he chugs half of and promptly vomits up all within the first day. he isn't a huge fan of moshing but he gets dragged into a few energetic ones and finds himself having fun. although he, like lucy, researched and planned ahead on who he wanted to see, he prefers to spend most of the day wandering around the grounds and sitting in on groups he didn't know if he has the time. for the groups he plans for, however, he's a bit of a scary fan. he knows all the lyrics, the band members' names, details of their careers, etc. he knows the setlist ahead of time even though he could sing each all of their songs perfectly from memory and excitedly tells the people around him what song was coming next. he starts arguments with a few people on the subgenres of metal, but also manages to get a cute guy's contact info after crossing each other's paths at a few different sets. to him, music is the only way he feels understood. he often doesn't know how to verbally explain his feelings, and there's something about music that he finds accesses deep within him. he passes out three times during the first day (lucy was there for the third one and exploded when he told her about the other two) but manages to only pass out one more time over the rest of the weekend.

skull is forced to stay home by himself despite insisting on being taken along [he will remember this]. the magnet lucy gets, however, satisfies him.

#george based on me passing out during knocked loose LMAOOOOO #aaron shitpost #big fan of just dumping info #if you go to music festivals!!#esp if they are during the day!!#DRINK!! WATER!!#trust me you will NOT enjoy what happens if you don't!!#netflix lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #renew lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #queer-and-nerdy

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inchidentally · 11 months ago

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some of my trickier asks or things I want to keep out of the tags

[link was a twitter post saying they wanted to get rid of Oscar to have car|ando back together at McLaren]

AFASFGHLASHFL babe even as a car|ando person I have to let you vent that out because that is possibly the most cringe thing I have seen since maybe 2016. I am fully expecting DTS to do another segment on car|ando and frame it so that McLaren and Lando want Oscar to leave because he doesn't touch Lando enough on camera or use nonstop gay innuendo. forget teammates valuing respect for each other and piling up McLaren's hardware cabinet, why oh why won't Oscar tackle Lando to the ground or talk about dicks and balls with him for fancams 😭

sorry anon I'm just cutting off that last part bc I don't want to attract any discourse about it to my blog <3 but yeah I honestly find it baffling that car|ando ended up being the larry ship for F1 fandom when Carlos of his own volition chose to leave after one season?? if they were real life a couple and wanting sex all the time surely staying on the same team would make sense and that he wouldn't go to Ferrari and immediately start acting more like a besotted, handsy husband with Charles than he ever did with Lando yet no one thinks they're secretly married. why didn't he do like Daniel and stick it out with McLaren even during bad times to stay with Lando if real life couple

and straight up they're not only disregarding everything that Oscar has brought to McLaren and promises for the future ! they're deciding that Pato is disposable too. I say this as a semi fake fan but even I wouldn't base my predictions about contract negotiations on rpf.

<3 thankfully it isn't all of us car|ando people who go too far but it feels like the other side are getting louder and louder

honestly I can boil my two main issues with the car|andoisreal brigade to three points:

misogyny and publicly targeted hate toward their real life girlfriends who they actually do have sex with/have romantic feelings for and who they openly choose to be around at the exclusion of their sports bromance friend

this particular brand of car|ando revolving entirely around Lando being conveniently stripped of a personality apart from giggling so he can be handy insert for women desperate to have Carlos for themselves

bringing 1D shipping into yet another new fandom and basically rinse and repeat with Carlos and Lando's names inserted in the [namexname] box

I know that a lot of us car|ando folks are nothing to do w this garbage and the good thing is that usually these people take themselves out either by pissing off the men involved in the ship or getting bored waiting for their fake ship to "become canon" finding a new rpf ship to latch onto.

oh and I do know that the person who made the office meme about Lando saying the podium thing intended it solely as a joke but it found the Other Side real fast and they genuinely put it in their dossiers of car|ando vs |andoscar. which I don't get for many reasons but also if they think Carlos and Lando are in a secret gay relationship and Lando doesn't even like Oscar then why the need to keep going seeee seeeeee he loves Carlos not Oscarrrrr aslfhsalfhslahf jesus christ why am I even trying to rationalize this

thing is I don't want any more of this on my blog or in our part of fandom so I'm going to limit how much of any asks I'll answer about it. I don't at all mind if people need to vent but jsyk I might not always post it publicly.

I'd recommend blocking and not engaging with it to everyone else too. I might curb how much car|ando is on my blog for a while just because it's so embarrassing to be associated with the grown ass women stalking Rebecca/Carlos content and flooding it with car|ando comments.

#inchreplies #vent asks

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mandos-mind-trick · 2 years ago

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Author Self-Promotion?! OKAY!! ;)

Rule: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to Ao3. If you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics. I was tagged by the lovely @dangraccoon, thank you!!

(Sweet baby Jeebus I have 36 fics on Ao3 😬)

Please heed the warnings and tags on these stories if you decide to read them. Most of them deal with very adult topics, have content in them that is not for everyone or that could be potentially triggering, and/or may be upsetting to some. Please do yourself a favor and check before deciding to read if you do. I try to tag everything, but I may miss stuff, so if what you see seems too much for you, then don’t put yourself through it and read it.

1. Instinct

Din Djarin x reader/Din Djarin x OC (Depending on which version you prefer)

“I have something for you. A gift, you could call it.”

Din sighs. “What is it?”

“A surprise. But trust me, you want it.”

Din stares at the hologram of the ex-bounty hunter turned daimyo. He could only imagine what kind of gift Boba Fett could have for him. “Fine. I’m on my way.”

2. Experiment

Part of the Midnight series. Tech x reader, implied poly Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

“I need you.”

Tech doesn’t give her much of an option as his hand wraps around her arm, tugging her away from a baffled Hunter and down the hall. They had landed in Tipoca City just a few hours ago. Midnight had gone straight to the barracks as she normally did, wanting to avoid the stares of the regs as much as possible. Half of them hated her presence, hating that a simple civilian had imposed in their space. The other half looked like they were picturing her naked. That doesn’t bother her much, she’s used to those kinds of looks, but it has her worrying. Like somehow they knew she was doing something very forbidden and fucking her squad.

3. Comfortable

Part of the Midnight series. Echo x reader, poly Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Midnight sits around the table with her boys, enjoying the quiet for once. They were all exhausted still from a hard mission. Even Wrecker was less excitable than normal. They were all focused on eating, waiting for their arrival at the location of their next mission. They were back to back again, with the war continuing, things were getting more and more tense. She can tell things are beginning to shift. Were they coming on the end of the war? Were things shifting for the better or worse? None of the guys had hinted they felt the same, and none of them had mentioned how they thought it was going to end.

With the little they interacted with other battalions and legions, she couldn’t get a good sense of the direction the war was going. It seemed when things were going bad, they were sent on more missions. When the Republic began gaining victories, their missions slowed.

She knows something’s happening. She just can’t place what it is.

“Do you ever compare us?” Tech breaks the silence, looking across the table at her.

4. Codename: Midnight

Part of the Midnight series, no pairing since this is a prequel to the series.

Her knuckles are sore. Out of everything that could hurt, she’s lucky it’s just her hands. Another night, another fight. Another round of meager pay outs to add to the too-light pouch she kept on her person at all times.

For a winner, she sure does feel like a loser.

She debates stopping to get something to eat, but a quick press of her hand against the small bump of her pocket changes her mind. She’s sure she can scrounge up something in the kitchen of the communal living house. They got the days-old leftovers and bits of food even the unfortunate in the absolute ass of Coruscant don’t want from the restaurant below the house.

Just cut off the bad parts.

That’s what her mother had taught her. Cut off the bad parts and it’s almost like new.

5. Unexpected

Din Djarin & teen OC - platonic relationship, OC is a foundling.

“What’s going on?” She asks, practically being dragged across the floor by the Nikto. His grip on her arm is tight, likely enough to leave a bruise.

“Shut up.” He hisses at her, shoving her to the ground against the wall. “Stay there.”

The gun fire had started just as she had finished her food. She was lucky it hadn’t been before. As soon as the fight had started, she’d been forced from the table and into the storage room. Someone was attacking them. Were they here for her? For Grogu?

A tiny green hand appears in front of her face and she takes it, the little claws closing around her finger.

“I know.” She whispers. “Me too. It’ll be okay. I promised I’d keep you safe, remember?” She looks into those big brown eyes, Grogu cooing softly at her.

She flinches as the shots get louder. Were they moving closer? She picks Grogu up out of his pram, holding him against her chest. Maybe if she got the chance, she could escape. She could run away, find somewhere safe to hide.

6. Human Studies

Original Yautja character x OC

Audrey steps slowly through the snow, trying to keep as quiet as she can in the ankle deep snow. She grips the shotgun in her hands tightly, trying to keep them from shaking. Her breath steams out in front of her, heart pounding loudly in her ears. She can hear the scuffling inside the barn as she presses herself against the wall, shadows moving in the light through the open door. Audrey presses the gun close to her chest, taking a deep breath before turning the corner, pointing the shotgun in front of her.

The barn is empty and silent, no sign of anything inside. Audrey takes a step in, eyes scanning the open areas she can see. There’s nothing. She slowly moves forward, checking every stall as she makes her way to the far wall.

She realizes her mistake as soon as she senses something behind her. She turns on her heel, coming to face a creature like she’s never seen before. It’s horrifying, something completely alien. It towers over her, teeth bared as a horrid hissing sound leaves its mouth. Audrey fires at it, the bullets seemingly useless as it charges her. She stumbles back, continuing to shoot until she’s out of bullets. She throws the rifle at it, turning to the wall.

7. I Was Made For Loving You

Eddie Munson x reader

Your thighs chafe a bit, another painful reminder of the shittiest night of your life. Well, it might not have been the shittiest night, but it certainly was high on that list. It’s cold. You’re shivering in your lack of layers. The thin sweater and exposed legs beneath your skirt did little to stave off the cold spring night. It was well into spring in Hawkins, but the nights were still filled with an unforgiving chill.

You were walking along a dark road, one of the many that sprawled Hawkins. The sidewalk and street were still cracked and broken, remnants from a few weeks ago. You had missed it, the whole debacle that had gone down. Your parents had decided it was time for another spring vacation, and you had been in Sweden visiting family while your friends were preventing the destruction of Hawkins once more.

You’re debating jumping a fence to find someone with a pool and risking hypothermia when the van appears. It’s driving rather fast and erratically down the road when it suddenly squeals to a stop on the opposite side of the road from you. You can hear muffled rock music from inside, the music getting louder and clearer as the window rolls down. A familiar curly haired figure appears out the window, calling out your name.

Eddie Munson.

8. Sharpshooting

Part of the Midnight series, Crosshair x reader, implied poly Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Midnight creeps slowly down the hall, walking on her tiptoes to avoid waking the sleeping clones in the bunks. She couldn’t sleep. Even the gentle humming of the ship wasn’t enough to ease her mind so she could drift off for a few hours rest. Instead she found herself lying awake, mind thinking far too much to let her relax.

So she decided to seek out the only other being on the ship that would still be awake.

She finds him in the hull, bent over some project on the floor. She carefully approaches him, sinking to the floor near him, leaning against the worktable.

“What are you doing up?” He asks, glancing at her before looking back to what he was working on.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She says, pulling her knees to her chest. “What are you working on?”

“Your new armor.” He says, holding up a piece of white plastoid. “I picked up a few pieces when we were on Kamino. Thought I’d try repurposing them.”

9. Detonate

Part of the Midnight series, Wrecker x reader, implied poly Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Midnight wakes rather abruptly when her face smacks into the metal floor with a bang. It startles her, and the other five clones who had all been peacefully sleeping. She lets out a groan, rubbing her forehead. She had rolled right off Hunter’s bunk, landing hard on the floor below.

She rests her face on the cool floor, laying still for a moment. She’s in nothing but her underwear and breast band, her tactical ones. Nothing special as they were stopped on Kamino for a few hours. She only pulled out the special ones when they had a longer layover, or when she knew one of the guys was going to want her...attention.

Things between them had progressed...awkwardly. None of them quite knew how to approach this new relationship. Wrecker seemed to be having the easiest time, though he was always the most affectionate even before their conversation. Though, he had yet to pass the unspoken barrier that had been put in place. That line that crossed between normal affection and more...romantic or even sexual. Tech and Wrecker had both been toeing that line, Wrecker more often, but the two had yet to cross it.

10. Torment

Original Yautja character x OC

She’s running off pure adrenaline. She’d lost the feeling in her legs and feet long ago. Her blood is pumping in her ears, blocking out all other noise. Not that it mattered. They didn’t make noise. It’s behind her, but she can’t see it. Not that she would bother with the two-second delay looking behind her would cause.

It didn’t matter anyways. They were fully capable of outrunning her. Their stride and stamina outpaced hers ten to one and she knows this. They’re letting her run. They want to see how far she’s willing to go.

Despite the time she’d spent on the planet, the gravity was stronger here than she was used to, and her body was still adapting to the pressure. Just the fact she could run at all was a miracle of human adaptation.

She pushes herself onward, unsure of where she’s headed, but even she’s curious just how far they’ll let her go this time. She never made it any significant distance from camp, yet she insisted on playing this game.

Something whistles through the air, hitting a tree inches from her face. It hadn’t been a miss, just a warning. Despite this knowledge, she can’t help the yelp at the exploding bark. She pushes herself faster, legs threatening to give out at any moment from exhaustion. A second one hits a tree to her left, the third coming straight at her. She drops, crawling forward as it slams halfway through the tree in front of her. She’s quick back on her feet, but a force hitting her back has her flying, hitting that same tree with a crack.

Tags (I know like no one on this blog 🥺): @hunnythebee, @amyroswell

#i love doing this kind of stuff #so much fun #my writing #long post #ao3 #so many fics #that's not counting the ones i've orphaned or deleted too #there's so much on my ao3 #tag game

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fivedollarradio · 2 years ago

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I posted 1,783 times in 2022

788 posts created (44%)

995 posts reblogged (56%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@hard-yearned-wisdom

@a-froger-epic

@freddie-mercury-rising

@idontknowhowthisworked

@quotespile

I tagged 639 of my posts in 2022

#freddie mercury - 252 posts

#brian may - 27 posts

#jim hutton - 19 posts

#peter tork - 14 posts

#new to me - 13 posts

#roger taylor - 13 posts

#queen - 10 posts

#freddie's boyfriends - 8 posts

#rip - 6 posts

#cutie - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 125 characters

#and i'm going to keep posting pictures of my hands holding things until you all see the entirety of my nail polish collection

My Top Posts in 2022:

Marc Almond on clubbing with Freddie Mercury:

“I went down to Heaven nightclub, and Freddie was there. And he came over to me and said: ‘Cheer up, girl! You always look so bloody miserable, dressing in black and writing all these miserable songs. Come with me, girl. We’re gonna go for a dance.’ And he threw me over his shoulder and carried me on to the dance floor.”

I know all stories about Freddie are apocryphal, but I really want this to have happened exactly like this, with Freddie heaving Marc over his shoulder. (Well according to Phoebe, he did like to pick people up, literally.)

And on Bowie:

I wonder how he felt when Bowie recanted his claims of being bisexual in the early 80s. “Oh, I never really thought he was,” he says. “Bowie was an artistic free spirit and he probably did dabble a bit. It was the saying it that was great; no one had ever said that before.”

I agree with this, and what writer Simon Reynolds has said about Bowie walking back being bisexual. He’s important to LGBT culture, sure, but I think fans need him to be a bi icon more than he was one.

link

18 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

Freddie deserves a better biography. Not another Lesley Jones book or any of the cobbled together “journalist” penned bios, but something sensitively written that could introduce him to new fans in a proper way. A while ago I went looking for a particular book about Bowie, and even in my branch library, there was an entire shelf devoted to him. Freddie? Lesley Jones’s book was there, and the one Mark Blake book about Queen, but that was it. It’s baffling that there isn’t anything better. The best ones, of course, are the memoirs written by Jim and Phoebe and a few others who knew him, but they’re hard to find (I have an e-book of the Minns book and link to Jim’s in a PDF file that I can no longer find), and the language in them is dated. And even those feel... incomplete?

One of my favorite bands for the past twenty years is the Replacements. I know American indie bands of the 80s have little presence here, but I spent an inordinate of my time and dedication to a band that a whole lot of people haven’t heard of. But in 2016, Bob Mehr wrote a really excellent bio of them called Trouble Boys. Before that there was a middling “oral history,” one photo collection and a documentary about their fans. For a band that stayed a “cult” favorite, that’s more than I could have asked for. That no one can seem to get an artist as big as Freddie right is really unfair.

24 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

The reason why Mary’s comments that Freddie “saved her” from getting AIDS by leaving her sounds selfish either way it’s interpreted is that she, a woman, and straight woman at that isn’t “supposed to get AIDS,” as was the prevailing narrative at the time. “Innocent victims” were children and women with closeted partners who were HIV-positive. Gay men, IV drug users were “asking for it” with their “risky behavior.” Casual bigotry is still bigotry. Generational context can only take you so far.

27 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

Image of Phoebe shopping at the cosmetic counter for Queen’s makeup. “I said vital beige, not soft beige!”

32 notes - Posted January 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Now, I’m not a barbarian. If I am entering the home of someone from a culture in which wearing street shoes inside is a sign of disrespect, or if my shoes are covered in snow, mud, blood, condiments of any sort, lava, excrement, concrete dust, or biomedical hazardous waste, I’m of course going to take them off. And I don’t really need to be told to do so.

But barring shoes outright just to keep your floors clean is bringing a gun to a pillow fight. Turns out there’s already an effective old-fashioned way to achieve your goal of a clean floor while neither insulting my hygiene habits nor endangering my delicate, vulnerable, long-suffering feet: It’s called a doormat.

How sensitive of you to acknowledge different cultural values, but don’t wear shoes in someone’s home if they ask you to remove them because IT’S NOT YOUR HOUSE. Your delicate. long-suffering feet? Seriously? Baby.

44 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #my top post is about feet not freddie #take that fandom

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sinnamonrolle · 3 years ago

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[ the little moments] ♡ Beelzebub

6 - That moment when you accompanied Beelzebub to the military.

✿ part of a series! ✿

❀ gender neutral reader ❀

Warnings: Mentions of blood

“I’m sorry,” Beel said. One of his hands patted your head in the form of a silent apology. “Our date got postponed because of the military summon… I really wanted to share Madam Devian’s new dessert with you.”

You smiled at him, catching his hand in yours and giving them a squeeze. You couldn’t deny that you also were excited to try out the new cake that Madam Devian released recently, but any time with Beel was time well spent. It didn’t matter whether you went to a bakery or the military, as long as you were with him.

“It’s alright. We can always go later,” you said. “But are you sure I can go in with you?”

Beel scowled at the fence gate in front of you two, its barbed wires separating you from the military encampment. He gently squeezed your hands back. “Don’t worry. They will let you in.”

From beyond the gate, way in the back, you saw a demon in a white military uniform rush out from a large building. His cap almost flew off from how quickly he arrived at the gate.

“General Beelzebub!” the demon greeted, saluting. He opened the gate, and you two stepped inside. “I have been awaiting your presence. I thank you for coming here on such short notice.”

“Don’t worry about it, Colonel Alastor,” Beel said, but you knew he was secretly a little upset about it. You could tell from the way his eyebrows were furrowed, the slightest bit of indentation appearing at the base of his forehead. “What do you need me for?”

“Of course, general, please follow me to the training grounds. I will explain on our way there,” Alastor said, but then his eyes fell on you, and he added on, “General, may I ask who your guest is? So that I may provide the correct identification tag.”

“My lover,” Beel said, his face straight. He didn’t even blink.

You almost choked at how naturally Beel spoke, as if he was simply ordering a meal at a restaurant, but it seemed you weren’t the only one surprised. You saw the shock settle on Alastor’s face before he quickly collected himself.

“I apologize, Your Grace. Please excuse my rudeness,” Alastor said to you, bowing deeply at the waist. “Please allow me to welcome Your Grace to the Royal Army.”

“Ah, thank you,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm up slightly. You were trying your best to not appear flustered, but perhaps your nervousness was leaking into your actions. Beel announcing that you were lovers made butterflies flutter at the bottom of your stomach—you even thought your heart might have skipped a beat. “Please, don’t worry about me. Just go ahead and do what you need to do. I’m just here to, uh, sightsee.”

Alastor smiled and closed the gate before leading you two to a field further down the path. It was a stone path, you noticed. After visiting almost every nook and cranny of the Devildom, you could conclude that Devildom didn’t have any concrete. The flooring was always wood, stone, brick, or marble.

You nudged Beel in the side. “You’re a general?” you whispered as you both followed Alastor. You knew demons had enhanced hearing, but you whispered anyway. It wasn’t anything that needed to be kept secret, but you felt that it was a bit embarrassing to ask a question that seemed to be common knowledge.

Beel didn’t seem to mind. “Lieutenant general to be exact,” he said. “I’m referred to as ‘general’ though. Diavolo is the actual five-star general. Although, I don’t know if I still count as one since I’ve been taking a break from the army ever since you’ve arrived in the Devildom.”

“If I may interrupt,” Alastor spoke up from the front. “I would say that General Beelzebub has all rights to keep his rank. Even if he has been away from the army for some time, he has been very helpful in leading us, especially with new recruits. They are always a willful bunch.”

“Is your new batch acting up?” Beel grumbled. “You just have to give them a good beating.”

Alastor sighed. “I would do exactly what the general advises if they weren’t children of nobility. As a demon of common blood, I’m afraid they will complain to their families and have them take my head.”

“Even though you are a colonel?” you asked, baffled. Even if Alastor wasn't a noble, this was the army. How could new soldiers affect the colonel? To this day, you still weren’t a hundred percent clear on demon hierarchy. Perhaps, after spending so much time with the brothers, you’ve become desensitized to it all.

“I may be a colonel to them, but to their families, I am a mere commoner,” Alastor replied with a chuckle, and then he stopped in front of a field. Since the Devildom was always dark, several round balls of light hovered in the air, lighting the field enough that you could barely see the faces of the recruits. They were spread all over the field, but it didn’t really look like they were training. “Alright. General, Your Grace, we have arrived at the training grounds. Your Grace, please take this visitor tag.”

Alastor handed you a clip-on tag with the word “VISITOR” printed neatly in bold letters. But before you could accept the tag, Beel took it from Alastor and carefully pinched it onto your clothing.

“They don’t have benches on the field,” Beel said, smoothing out your clothes. His purple eyes met yours. “Will you be okay standing nearby?”

You brushed his bangs away from his eyes and smiled at him. “I’ll be okay. Will you be okay though? Are you hungry?”

“I’m not hungry.” Beel brought you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you. When you returned his hug, he brushed his lips against your cheek and murmured into your ear, his voice a low, soothing hum, “I have you here with me, after all.”

And then Beel was pulling away from you. You had half the mind to chase after his touch, but you held back, knowing that perhaps now wasn’t the best time.

“Hold my jacket, please?” Beel asked. When you held your hands out, he shedded his jacket and gave it to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, Pudding. I’ll be back soon. If anyone annoys you, just let me know. I’ll deal with them.”

“Okay.” As you followed Beel’s figure with your eyes, you pressed his jacket to your face, the traces of his remaining heat warming your face and the soft smell of laundry detergent filling your senses. With his back straight and his posture full of confidence, every inch of him was unyielding, commanding, demanding to be obeyed.

In that moment, you could see Beelzebub on a battlefield, blood darkening the streaks of his orange hair. A spear in hand, the silver of the blade dripping red and dampening the carmine tassel tied beneath the blade. Beelzebub tattered, tired, torn apart mentally—you could see it, you could see it all in your head because you knew he lived through a war before. You could see the blank look on his face, the agony tightening his throat, the truth of loss settling into his body—

“Your Grace,” Alastor said, his voice breaking you out of your reverie, “it may be safer if you stand over here against the wall.”

You broke away from Beel, who was now speaking with the recruits. Alastor stood slightly further away, off to the side next to a gray brick wall. Smiling, he waved you over.

Clutching Beel’s jacket closer to you, you hurriedly walked over to him. There was a slight embarrassment creeping up on you when you realized that Alastor probably saw you staring at Beel for who knows how long.

“I’m sorry,” you said, settling yourself against the wall when there was a respectable distance between you and Alastor. “I didn’t realize I was blocking the way.”

“Not at all, Your Grace.” Alastor laughed. For some reason, some of his mannerism reminded you of Barbatos. “Everyone knows that the new recruits are training today, so not many others will be around here. Since the recruits are allowed to use magic in their training, I am afraid that a stray spell might hit you if you stayed out in the open. If the noble families will have my head if their children complain about me, then General Beelzebub will ensure that I suffer for the rest of eternity if I allow you to get hurt.”

You hummed, hands fidgeting with the zipper of the jacket as you turned back to Beel, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting to find his silhouette. The balls of light were sparsely distributed across the entire field, emitting enough light that you could just barely make out the details. You supposed that the lights were just so that the demons weren’t training in complete darkness. Most demons have excellent night vision, after all. But for a human like you, you were glad the field wasn’t that big and that they weren’t that far out. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to see Beel tilting his head as he crossed his arm, the warm light whitening the orange strands of his hair.

“Maybe not for the rest of eternity,” you quipped with a smile, although there wasn’t much room to disagree.

There was something warm in hearing that Beel would raise hell to protect you. To know that there was someone out there that cared about you, someone that loved you, someone that considered you as family—a fluttery feeling coursed through your body, spreading out from your chest, and your heart was clenching in something that wasn’t pain but something similar enough that it hurt yet still felt so sweet.

“Your Grace is right. The general would destroy me instantly,” Alastor said, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

It was then that you were able to clearly make out the voices on the field. You weren’t that far away in the first place, but when Beel first approached the recruits, you didn’t hear anything distinct at all.

“For honor?” Beel asked, his voice raising in disbelief. “What kind of honor could you be fighting for if you’re fighting in such a lackluster way? How honorable is it to fool around?”

“Fool around?” a demon scowled. He stood at the forefront of all the other soldiers who had gathered around Beel. On his chest was a rose crest, imprinted into his brown military uniform. “Do you think we are fooling around? Who are you to say that?”

Beel scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Your footing is off. Too clumsy. You don’t put enough weight into your strikes, and your moves are too extravagant. Fighting with your body is not supposed to be flashy. This is the battlefield, where your lives are on the line, not some game where you show off. You don’t even have the basics down. Colonel Alastor is an excellent teacher and fighter. Haven’t you been listening to him?”

The demon with the rose crest growled, his hands bunching into fists at his sides. Another demon next to him crossed their arms and sneered.

“Are you mocking us? Why should we listen to a mere commoner?”

Next to you, Alastor sighed and rubbed at this forehead, seemingly more troubled than offended. You could see why. They were essentially spoiled brats who thought the worlds revolved around them.

The rest of the group also spoke up, their voices mixing into each other as they tried to announce their displeasure, but after listening for some time, Beel just simply raised a hand.

“Enough,” he said. Pure power, heavy and pulsing, rushed out from the word as it rumbled from his chest, the oppressive force pushing the recruits down. Some of them buckled under the pressure, while others tried their best to fight back against it, only to end up collapsing entirely. “This is the army. It doesn’t matter what family you’re from if you’re not strong enough.”

Even though you were farther away behind Beel, you still felt the residue power wash over you in waves. You shivered at the sensation, and the urge to make yourself appear smaller briefly crossed your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, Alastor shuddered but remained standing upright.

“Who are you to say that?!” a demon at the front gasped, a hand on their knee as they straightened themselves. “You’re not even wearing a military uniform or a tag! Do you even have the authority to be here?”

“That’s General Beezlebub to you.” Beel took a step forward and started stretching his arms, rotating them slowly. You knew him well enough to know that he was most definitely frowning from the tone of his voice, the ends of his lips curving downwards and his eyes narrowed, the dark purple glowing dangerously. “Although, from the sound of it, I doubt you would address me properly.”

“Beelzebub? I’ll have you know that I am the eldest son of the Duke of Rosales,” the demon huffed, smoothing out the rose crest on his chest, “and I have not heard of a Beelzebub from any noble family.”

Beelzebub snorted, switching to his other arm, and took another step forward. The recruits, despite their tough act, all took a collective step back.

“Son of Rosales,” Beel said, “since you’re so adamant about status, I’m sure you are well aware of those above you. Address me correctly then—it’s Prince Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony.”

The son of Rosales gulped, his body stiffening against the warm lighting. In the silence following Beel's command, the whispered words—the non-sovereign prince, Beelzebub—hung loudly in the air.

This was a first for you. You’ve never really seen Beelzebub flaunt his status, nor have you really felt the weight of the ranking of prince until this moment, where the once prideful recruits were now cowering in part fear and part awe.

Pride blossomed in your chest. This was Beelzebub—your prince, your Beel, your lover.

“Why don’t you come and show me what it means to fight for honor?” Beel asked the demon with the rose crest. “I’ve never slacked off, not even after I took a break from the army. Every single day, I kept training because I knew why I was fighting. I fight to protect my family. Every moment of suffering will pay off in the form of my loved ones’ lives in the future.”

Beel readied himself, bringing both of his hands up close to his face, and said, “So, recruits. Show me your determination. In return, I will show you mine.”

The world faded around you as you watched Beel throw himself into fight after fight, often defeating the recruits within one or two moves. Despite appearing so burly, he possessed surprising agility. He seemed so limber as he evaded all of the punches and kicks thrown his way, almost like he was dancing.

The recruits that Beel struck down always made their way back up, like a switch had been turned on inside them. It must had been what he said earlier, the pure determination of his words inspiring the soldiers, as well as the natural instincts of a demon to respect the strong.

Beel turned around with a sweeping kick. You briefly saw his well defined abdomen as the shirt fluttered back into place. A dark tail aimed for his head, but he leaned backwards slightly to avoid it as it swept past, extremely close to brushing against the tip of his nose. As he did so, the white light warmed the outline of his body like a halo—illuminating.

Beelzebub was utterly enchanting—you couldn’t deny it at all. You didn’t want to, and you didn’t need to, because that was the truth, and the truth was all yours to appreciate. Watching him like this took your breath away.

A group of recruits jumped out of nowhere. They lunged at Beel’s back in a semicircular formation, their demon forms out, and you almost shouted out to warn Beel when, with barely a glance behind him, he slammed his foot into the ground. The force of it shattered the terrain into fragments. A wave of magic rushed out, colliding head-on with the soldiers, and it swept them away in a heap of tangled limbs. The recruits groaned in pain.

The residue of the magic electrified the air, crackling along the broken edges of the ground. You felt it sparking against your arms, the sensation of his magic a familiar feeling to you, yet it never failed to give you goosebumps.

“The battlefield doesn’t tolerate failure,” Beel said, swinging an arm behind him just in time to elbow a recruit right in the middle of their chest, knocking the breath out of them. “Failure means death.”

Perhaps you were too captivated by the sight of Beel displaying his prowess, but it was only when Alastor called out did you realize that a particularly huge but unstable spell was coming straight at you.

“Your Grace!”

You knew better. You really did. You didn’t survive this long in the Devildom for nothing. You had your fair share of experience in surviving dangerous spells, at closer distances than this, but as you watched the roaring flames come at you, you could only stay frozen in place, hands clutching Beel's jacket in your hands.

Vaguely, you heard Beel shout your name—the sound echoing in the air, echoing around you, echoing in your mind, matching the increasing tempo of your heart—then everything went dark.

The faint smell of leather and something that you instinctively recognized as belonging to Beel filled your nose. Strong arms wrapped around you, the embrace familiar yet also somewhat strange, and with a low buzzing sound in your ears, you also heard—no, you felt the desperate heartbeat.

Beelzebub.

Beel held you to him, so tightly to the point that you were crushed, your body completely melding with his. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, pressing you into him, and the other clasped your waist.

Beel was shaking.

Even though he was the one holding onto you, like you would disappear if he didn’t hold onto you hard enough, his body was trembling—in fear. Fear of you getting hurt, fear of losing you, fear of not being quick enough, of not being strong enough, of not being decisive enough to protect his family yet again. The debilitating terror that often accompanied his nightmares—you were all too familiar with it.

So you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the unsteady, nervous flapping of his wings, now understanding why you felt leather instead of skin, and you squeezed him back.

I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

You gathered all the feelings bunched up in your chest and sent them through your pact bond, hoping he could feel that you were absolutely safe and unharmed. He shielded you, after all. From the ebbing magic on his body, you could tell that he teleported over to you. That was how he made it on time.

Beelzebub. I love you. I love you so much.

Beel slowly pulled back, his eyes a chaotic mixture of purple and magenta, and you noticed that he had indeed transformed into his demon form. But before you could say anything, he started running his hands all over you. Gentle but hurried fingers traced your face, down your throat, around your torso, all the way down to your feet. He inspected every part of you in a desperate frenzy.

“Beel,” you said, cupping his cheeks. “I’m safe. I didn’t even feel the heat. But are you hurt anywhere?”

Beel shook his head and went back to checking your body, but you patted his face, huffing. He stopped almost reluctantly, eyes meeting yours once again.

“I’m not hurt,” Beel said. “Alastor casted a barrier just in time.”

Something silver shimmered in the air behind Beel, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. Gratefulness flooded you. Beel might have thought it was fine to protect you with his body, but you didn’t want him to get hurt at all. If you had just reacted fast enough earlier… then Beel didn’t have to throw himself in front of you, and Alastor didn’t have to cover for you.

After the gratefulness came the guilt.

“You’re really not hurt anywhere?” Beel asked, but his eyes were already searching your body for any potential injuries. “Really, really?”

“Really, really,” you answered. “I’m really okay. I’m sorry though… I don’t know what came over me. I saw the spell coming at me, but I didn’t move at all. And I had to disrupt your training session because of it. I’m sorry.”

Beel visibly relaxed at your reassurance, his body no longer tensed up like before. “No, Pudding. Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I will stop everything to protect you,” he said, kissing your forehead.

Your mouth opened, cheeks warming as you tried to respond appropriately, but then, Beel blinked like he remembered something. He stepped away from you, his eyes narrowed dangerously, and turned to the recruits who had all stayed silent earlier.

“Who casted that spell?” Beel asked, a frigid aura surrounding him. You bet the recruits were in for a world of pain.

No one responded. The recruits remained in their positions, not daring to move.

Beel clicked his tongue. “Don’t make me repeat myself again. Who. Casted. That. Spell?”

When no one spoke, Beel didn’t bother again. He came back to your side and wrapped an arm around your waist, tucking you into his side as he reverted back to his human form.

“Colonel Alastor, increase the daily training by three. Send me a list of all recruits here today. I will be back at a later time to properly train them,” Beel said.

Colonel Alastor saluted. “Yes, general!”

Beel nodded and headed for the gate. You glanced at the recruits still frozen in place and Alastor who waved at you with a smile. You nudged Beel in the side.

“Are we leaving already?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, taking his jacket from you. “Thanks for holding my jacket, Pudding. Let’s go get some food. I’m starving.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Are we resuming our date? After what had just happened?”

“They’re not important,” Beel said, and then he smiled at you, peppering kisses all over your face. “Let’s go back to our date.”

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, covering his mouth. “Let’s go.”

-------

Masterlist!

Ahh, I don't know if this is good enough :( but I hope you enjoy it!

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headcanonsandmore · 3 years ago

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Since I’m seriously losing interest in writing HP-related fanfiction (I’ve got a few fic obligations and then I’m more-or-less done, I’m afraid), I thought I’d share some headcanons about a concept I initially planned to write a full fanfic about. Enjoy!

Ron appears in town, after becoming an agent for the new paranormal department at the ministry. He starts sharing a house with Ginny, who is the only one of his siblings living in London (Ron needs to stay close to his job, even with apparation being a thing).

Ron meets Luna (the new owner of the Leaky Cauldron), and she develops a crush on him (which he is unaware of).

Ron meets up with Harry and Hermione (both of whom fancy him), and they experience some paranormal activity. Hermione thinks that the paranormal (aside from standard magical creatures and the like) doesn’t exist.

Neville is working in the paranormal department as well as an advisor, and is ace aro (and also profoundly sick of everyone’s romantic drama).

In the next chapter, Ginny (an Auror) meets Luna in the Leaky Cauldron, and she flirts with Luna, who is clearly attracted to her but struggling to realise that she (Luna) isn’t straight. Luna then sprays water all over her blouse, and can’t get it off. Ginny helps her take it off, and they share a very intense bit of eye contact. Luna stammers that she’s straight. Ginny doubts this, given what has just happened and leaves her business card with Luna (‘just in case you change your mind’).

Some paranormal stuff happens, and (in the Auror department) Ginny discovers that Luna is crushing on Ron. Ron -however- is actually attracted to the two Hs, and supports Ginny’s feelings for Luna.

Luna meets Neville, and he talks to her about when he realised he was ace aro, leaving Luna with some questions to ask herself about her own sexuality.

After Luna realises that she is attracted to Ginny, she walks into the auror department where Ginny works. She then snogs Ginny full on the mouth, and admits that she is attracted to her, and wants to be with her.

Meanwhile, Hermione is angry that Luna fancies Ron, and Ron is baffled as to why Hermione doesn’t like Luna. They go over to the auror department, where Ginny is threatened by a demon. The demon discovers that Luna is dating Ginny, and tries to curse Luna. However, Ginny jumps in front of Luna, and saves her. Luckily, Ginny was wearing a curse-proof vest, and is fine.

Ron, Hermione and Harry take down the demon (Hermione now realises that they do exist). Luna then introduces Ginny as ‘her girlfriend’. Ron is super happy for them. Hermione then realises that she was making a big fuss over nothing, and proceeds to snog Ron full on the mouth. Harry then pulls Ron away from Hermione, and kisses him firmly on the cheek. Ron is confused, but delighted.

Luna and Ginny watch the three, before linking hands and smiling at each other.

(Tagging @nagemeikenu as they really liked this concept when I was posting about it quite a while back)

#wynonna earp au #alternative universe #romione #ronmione #linny #ronarry #harron #rarry #the two hs have the same type #harry and hermione love ron SO MUCH #ace aro neville longbottom

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years ago

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an ill-fitting definition

rating: M words: 4.3k relationships: jongeorgie, jontim, jonmartin, background wtgfs additional tags: canon compliant, pre-canon, scottish safehouse period, canon asexual character, fluff, kissing, implied sexual content, rumors and misconceptions

written for weeks two/three of @archivalpride for the prompts identity and doubt!

cw for misconceptions about asexuality, assumptions made about somebody’s sexuality, rumors and outing somebody without their knowledge, non-explicit/implied sexual content, mention of canonical character death, mention of canonical stalking and paranoia, gossip (including of the sexual nature), food, very mild blood, mild internalized acephobia

ao3 link in source

It’s three weeks and two days after they began dating, when Georgie picks up Jon’s hand where it’s clasped in hers and asks with plain curiosity in her voice, so does the ring, y’know, mean anything?, that Georgie hears the word asexual cross Jon’s lips for the first time.

It’s not a word she’s unfamiliar with; she’s run in enough LGBTQ spaces in her time in uni that she has a good idea of the breadth of identities that are out there. She rubs her thumb across Jon’s ring and thinks, in the voice of the gender and equality training instructor with sharp red heels and a “fun” black dress who’d stood in front of the seminar she’d been mandated to take for one of her courses:

Asexuality. A lack of sexual attraction. An aversion or repulsion to sexual activities.

It had been a small word on a large black-and-white slide, crammed in next to aromanticism and overcrowded by a myriad of other sexual identities discussed at length. It had been… quite a comprehensive training, Georgie thinks as she quits fidgeting with Jon’s ring and instead threads their fingers together. For a moment, she considers asking what he means anyway, but she quickly dismisses the thought. She wants to be supportive, and as Jon looks at her with open, trusting eyes and a faint smile, she decides that she knows enough. She doesn’t want to make it awkward, and with things like these, she’s found that asking Jon to explain his feelings in plain terms can be… well, awkward is certainly a word for it. Best just not to bring it up, she decides.

Still, she feels the need to ask, “Can I kiss you?” because the red no sex sign blinking on and off in her head is frustratingly vague on what, exactly, is contained within that stipulation. When Jon voices his assent, she tips her head up and presses a quick kiss to his chin before kissing him on the lips, wiping the disgruntled look off them.

So yes to kissing, she thinks, tucking that away next to no sex. Yes kissing, no sex. Yes holding hands, she adds as she squeezes Jon’s hand in hers and he smiles at her, warm and soft, that special side of Jon that she only sees on occasion. No pet names, she adds a week later when she tries out sweetheart and Jon’s nose wrinkles with displeasure. No foot rubs, when Jon swats at her and says, between giggles, that he’s awfully ticklish. Yes back rubs. Yes cuddling. No PDA. No touching with wet or sticky hands. Yes brushing hair.

That’s as far as she gets before, one year and two months after she begins dating Jonathan Sims, she stops. After which point she stops keeping track, because, well. There’s really no point anymore, is there?

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, burying his head in his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim says quickly, holding his hands in the air in a placating gesture. He scoots a few inches away from Jon on the couch for good measure, unsure just how much space Jon needs right now. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize—I should apologize. I should have asked first.”

“It’s just—” Jon makes a frustrated noise, and when he takes his hands away his cheeks are dark and he won’t meet Tim’s eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s okay,” Tim repeats, watching with a twisting feeling in his stomach as Jon apparently notices that the button of his trousers is still undone and quickly goes to redo it. His eyes follow the movements of Jon’s hands automatically, and just as automatically, he notes the distinct lack of a tent in the front of Jon’s trousers. The same… cannot be said for his own. Particularly after nearly twenty minutes of kissing, which Tim had very much enjoyed.

Christ, had Jon been uncomfortable with that as well? All in a rush, Tim says, “Was the kissing bad too?” Then, he winces—fuck, that sounded accusatory—and adds, “It- it’s okay if it was, I just- I didn’t know, and I don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable, Jon.”

“No, the- the kissing was fine, it’s just...” Jon makes an aborted motion with his hands, like he’s trying and failing to find the words.

“... complicated?” Tim supplies.

Jon nods mutely.

“That’s okay,” Tim says, and he finds that he means it. “We don’t have to do anything more than kissing if you don’t want to.”

“I- I don’t…” Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he’s searching for the right words, the crease in his forehead deepening every moment he fails to find them. Finally, he lets out a long, labored breath, pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, and says, “Yes, that… that might be best.”

Tim studies Jon’s face. It’s pinched and a bit stiff, like Jon would very much like to crawl out of his skin or melt into a puddle and disappear. “You sure?” he feels compelled to ask, placing a hand carefully on Jon’s knee. “You, uh. You seem a bit unsure.”

Jon sits there a moment more, spine straight and rigid, before melting slightly against Tim’s hand, his face slipping into something more relaxed but no less unhappy. “Yes.” He hesitates a moment, then says, a bit stiltedly, “I’m, um. I’m asexual. Since we’re already talking about this, I… I may as well get that out in the open as well.”

Oh. A few pieces slot into place, and Tim says with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than necessary, “Oh. Why didn’t you tell—?” He cuts himself off and offers Jon a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you for telling me.”

“We’re dating,” Jon says bluntly. “It was going to come up eventually.”

“Still.” Tim shrugs, then reaches for Jon’s hand and holds it tightly in his. “Thanks.” He hesitates only a moment before leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s nose. Jon makes a disgruntled noise, which Tim thinks is adorable. Then, because it feels appropriate, he says, “Y’know, Danny… Danny was asexual. Aromantic too, actually. We had a big talk about it a few years ago where he sort of… laid it all out for me.” No sex, no romance, no thank you, had been the overall gist of it. Tim makes a new box for Jon and fills it in with the words no sex, yes romance, it’s complicated.

“Oh,” Jon says quietly, with that same sort of sadness in his eyes that he gets every time Tim mentions Danny, something much gentler than pity and significantly less cloying. If Tim notices the faint discomfort that accompanies it, something that whispers that isn’t my definition of asexuality, we’re not the same, you don’t understand if one were to listen closely enough, he doesn’t let on.

Tim does, however, notice the discomfort in Jon’s eyes—now mixed with anger—when two years, six months, and seven days later, he accuses Tim of murder. But by then, their days of hand-holding and nose-kissing are far, far behind them.

“Maybe he just needs to get laid,” Melanie says with a groan, lying on Georgie’s couch and staring at the ceiling. The Admiral is curled up on her lap, purring contentedly. She scratches absentmindedly under his chin.

“What, Jon?” Georgie appears in Melanie’s field of vision, wielding a damp wooden spoon and frowning.

“No. No.” Melanie shakes her head emphatically. “Martin. He’s been all… sulky lately. I think he’s still upset that Jon came to me instead of him for help, but I don’t know why he has to be all… touchy about it.”

“Ah. Well, you know, he is a bit hung up on Jon. At least, according to you.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” Melanie says grumpily. “Besides, didn’t you say that Jon went on about Martin, like, all the time? Sounds like he’s got it bad as well. Maybe they could just… y’know.”

“Melanie.”

“What?” Melanie tries to shoot Georgie a glare, but it’s obstructed by the back of the couch. “I’m on my last nerve, Georgie!”

“I know, honey. But Jon’s really not… well, he’s not very open about these sorts of things. Getting him to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth when we were together.”

“It still baffles me that you used to date.”

“He’s very sweet when you get to know him!” There’s a pause, a few clatters from the kitchen. “Besides, even if he and Martin got around to talking, Jon… well, he doesn’t.”

Melanie frowns. “Doesn’t what?”

“Have sex.”

“Really?” Melanie sits up, disturbing the Admiral, who lets out an irritated mrpp before adjusting himself accordingly and curling back up on her lap. “So when you were together…?”

Georgie shakes her head. “Nope. Never.”

“Huh.” Melanie thinks for a moment. “Is he like… religious or something?”

Georgie chuckles. “Jon? No, not at all. He’s asexual.”

“Isn’t that like… that thing that sponges are? Where they self-reproduce?”

“Seriously?”

Melanie scowls at the incredulous look Georgie’s giving her. “What? I’m not being a- a dick, I’ve just never heard of it before.”

“You were a YouTuber. Your job was to be internet famous.”

“Okay, now you’re just making fun of me.”

Georgie shoots Melanie a grin. “Sorry. Basically, it means that Jon doesn’t do sex. Like… at all. He just… doesn’t.”

“Huh,” Melanie says again.

“Yeah.” Georgie turns back to the stove. “Now, come here. Tell me if there’s too much salt?”

“Sorry Admiral,” Melanie whispers as she deposits him onto the floor and crosses the room to wrap her arms around Georgie’s waist from behind and take the bite of sauce on the spoon Georgie holds out for her. “Mm, tastes great. As always.”

And in the back of her mind, Melanie adds another line to the section labeled Jonathan Sims and writes, with careful handwriting, he doesn’t.

Although… according to Georgie, Jon doesn’t.

Martin pauses the tape and rubs his hands over his eyes. His cheeks are burning red, and he takes a few minutes to just breathe.

Doesn’t what? Doesn’t date? Doesn’t kiss? Doesn’t—

Martin stops that train of thought before it goes any further, the flush on his face growing in intensity. It’s none of my business, he tells himself as he ejects the tape and turns it over in his hands a few times before sliding it back into the small box it had come from.

He still can’t help but think about it. He thinks about it before the Unknowing, when Jon hesitates just a moment before wrapping him in a tight hug and whispering, I… I’ll be back, Martin. Then we can talk. He thinks about it when Jon’s in his coma, when Martin sits at his bedside and loses himself in daydreams and what-ifs. He thinks about it when Jon’s hand is clasped in his and he’s leading Martin out of cloying white fog and sea-salt air, his shirt speckled with bits of dark liquid that Martin tries to pretend isn’t blood. He thinks about it on the way to the safehouse, Jon leaning against his side, Martin’s hand clasped firmly in his.

He thinks about it a lot, in the confines of the wooden walls that let in the growing chill of the Scottish countryside.

Jon doesn’t.

He knows what Jon does. Jon makes him breakfast most days, eggs and toast and sometimes waffles, which Martin’s always considered a guilty pleasure but that he’s had more times in the past week and a half than he’s had for the past ten years. Jon puts his head on Martin’s shoulder when they sit on the couch and read, flipping through the dusty novels they’d found tucked in cardboard boxes underneath the bed that Jon had wrinkled his nose at but has been slowly making his way through nevertheless. Jon clings to Martin like his life depends on it when they sleep, and Martin will wake in the morning with one arm slung across his chest, a leg between his, and a sizeable portion of hair tickling at his nose.

And, nine days into their stay, Jon smiles at Martin as he shuffles into the kitchen in the morning, stands on his toes, and presses a soft kiss to Martin’s lips.

“Um,” Martin says eloquently, still half-asleep and trying to process what he’s 98% sure is their first kiss. He’d be 100% sure except for the fact that Jon kissed him like it was nothing, like it was easy, like it was something they do every morning.

The smile slips from Jon’s face, and he looks nervous. “I- I’m sorry, I should have asked first—”

“No, no, it’s- it’s okay,” Martin hastens to say, taking one of Jon’s hands in his and squeezing gently. “Just- just surprised, that’s all. I, um. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to kiss me, given that we haven’t…” He gestures absently, his face heating up. Stop talking, Martin. “Yeah,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” Jon says with a frown. “I… apologize for giving you that impression. I- I love you, Martin—I have no problems with kissing you.”

Warmth courses through Martin, as it always does when Jon tells him that he loves him. It all feels so unreal sometimes that he’s here, with Jon, away from it all and living in quiet domesticity. “Oh,” he says, face flushed. “A- all right, then. Great!”

“Great,” Jon echoes.

“Just- just thought maybe you didn’t—”

Martin clamps his mouth shut, face heating up more, this time in embarrassment. Shut up, Martin.

Jon raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t… what?”

“Um.” Martin rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Kiss?”

Jon looks at Martin blankly. “Oh. Well, I- I do.”

“Right, yeah, I- I put that together. When we, um. You know.”

Jon looks amused. “Kissed?”

“Yep, that,” Martin squeaks out.

They look at each other for a moment before dissolving into giggles. Jon presses another kiss to Martin’s lips and finishes making the waffles and kisses Martin again when he hands Jon his tea, and it’s really quite lovely indeed.

So Martin adds Jon kisses to his mental list of Jon does and finds a sole remainder on the list of Jon doesn’t. And it’s fine with him, he decides, if Jon doesn’t want to have sex. He just wants Jon, in whatever way Jon will have him.

Jon doesn’t do sex, he thinks as he kisses Jon goodnight.

So, three days later, when they’re on the couch and they’ve kissed until Martin is red-faced and breathless and Jon pulls back with a pinched expression on his face, Martin assumes—with hot embarrassment coursing through him—that he’s somehow gone too far and strayed into sex territory and made Jon uncomfortable.

Then, Jon says with cheeks dark and eyes focused resolutely on Martin’s chest, “Martin, would… would you like to move to the bedroom?” and Martin’s thoughts grind to a halt.

“Sorry, what?” is all he can think to say.

Jon’s cheeks grow incrementally darker. “I am asking,” he says slowly, like the words are clunky and unwieldy in his mouth, “if you would like to have sexual intercourse. With me, of course, I- I hope that was implied.”

Martin’s aware that his mouth is quite literally hanging open in shock. He closes it quickly before swallowing and saying, “I… yeah, Jon, I- I’d love that, but I thought you—”

He clamps his mouth shut again, a touch too late. Jon’s forehead creases in confusion and he says, “I what?”

Martin hems and haws for a moment before biting the bullet and saying, all in a rush, “I thought you didn’t like sex.”

Jon’s frown deepens. “What? Why?”

And god, Martin doesn’t want to admit that he’s been thinking about office gossip for nearly a year, but he’s dug his grave—he may as well lie in it. He sighs, worries his hands on his lap, and says, “I… may have listened to a tape where Melanie said that Georgie said that you… didn’t.”

Jon looks at Martin blankly for a moment before his expression flattens into something that’s equal parts irritated and resigned. “Ah. Right. That… that makes sense, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Martin says emphatically, placing his hand atop Jon’s and squeezing. “I- I didn’t mean to hear it; I was listening to the statements and it was just there.”

“No, it’s… it’s not your fault.” Jon sighs and rubs a hand across his eyes. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

“What?”

Jon makes an aborted, dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’ve… never been good at explaining my own preferences. I never did with Georgie, just… told her I was asexual and left it at that. I suppose she took that to mean that I, er. Didn’t.”

Asexual. Martin has a vague notion of what that means—he’s been in enough online LGBTQ spaces to have encountered the word before, but he’s never really looked into it much himself. If pressed, he thinks he’d also assume it meant that Jon didn’t. Something a bit guilty twists within him at that thought, amplified by his next thought that Georgie shouldn’t have assumed, because, well, that’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it? Still, he feels the need to voice it; he squeezes Jon’s hand again and says, “It’s not your fault that she just- just made assumptions about what you wanted, Jon.”

“Yes, but it’s my fault that I never corrected her.” Jon makes a face. “Or Tim, now that I think about it. I… I suppose I’m just not very good at talking about these things. Particularly because my own preferences are…” Jon’s pained expression deepens. “Christ, I don’t want to say complicated again, but there really is no other word for it.”

That’s not your fault either, Martin wants to say, but he knows Jon will just contradict him again, and he’ll repeat himself, and then they’ll just be talking in circles, and that won’t help anything. It’s frustrating, but it’s the truth. Still, Martin finds the words waiting on his lips when he opens his mouth, so he shuts it again and thinks for a moment, promising himself later. I’ll tell him later. Finally, he says carefully, “Do you… do you want to talk about it? We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I don’t want to assume.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Well, I don’t want to keep assuming, I suppose, given that I’ve already assumed quite a lot.” Quieter: “Sorry, again.”

“It’s fi—” Jon cuts off, takes a breath. “Th… thank you, Martin.” He hesitates a moment, then says haltingly, “I- I do want to talk about it, but I don’t—” He makes a frustrated noise. “—I don’t know how.”

“Okay,” Martin says after a moment. “You said it’s complicated, yeah?” When Jon nods mutely, he continues, “Would it help if you described how you feel right now? That’s- that’s less complicated, right?”

Jon’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “I… suppose.”

“All right, then.” Martin makes a go-on gesture, then rests his hand atop Jon’s and applies a gentle pressure.

Jon takes a few deep breaths, squints at nothing, makes a few wordless noises, then says bluntly, “I want to have sex with you.”

Martin tries really, really hard not to blush, but he doesn’t think he quite succeeds given how hot his face feels when he says, “Right, okay.” His voice is a bit higher-pitched than normal; he hopes that Jon doesn’t notice. “And, um. Do you always… want to have sex with me? Or just right now.”

Jon grimaces. “That’s where it gets complicated.” He makes an I-don’t-know gesture with his free hand and says, “No? Yes? I don’t know, Martin. I’m told that not wanting sex all the time is- is normal, that- that you have to be in the mood, but apparently I’m just supposed to know when I’ll be in the mood and when I won’t be, and that- that doesn’t really work for me.”

“Are you—” Martin cringes internally, but forces the words out. “—in the mood right now?”

“Well,” Jon grumbles, “not anymore, but I was. And it’s complicated, because even if I am, I- I don’t always want to be touched, but how do you explain that to someone, how- how do you tell someone that it’s mostly no but sometimes yes and there’s a very good chance that I might change my mind halfway through and decide that it’s no after all?”

“I think,” Martin says patiently, “that you just say that.”

Jon gives Martin a look. “Martin.”

“What? It’s true!” Martin gives Jon as reassuring a smile as he can muster. “It made sense to me, at least.”

“Yes, but that’s not—” Jon makes a frustrated noise. “It’s not whether or not it makes sense, it’s whether or not somebody is willing to put up with a sexual partner who doesn’t know whether or not they’re going to want to have sex on any given day, whether they- they’ll be repulsed or interested or want to give but not receive or the other way around or- or something else that I haven’t thought of but that will likely happen because consistency is, apparently, off the cards for me entirely.”

“Hey, hey,” Martin says gently, placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder and rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. “Jon, look at me.” When Jon looks, albeit reluctantly, Martin continues, “I can’t speak for other people, and I- I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can tell you how I feel, and I… I’m willing. No, more than willing—I love you, Jon, all of you, and if this is how you feel, then I love that about you too. Whatever you’re willing to give me, it… it’ll be enough. You’re enough.”

Jon’s cheeks darken and he looks away. After a long moment, he says in a stiff voice, “Well. Thank you, Martin.” Then, a bit softer: “I… I love you too.” He looks at Martin then and offers him a small, weak smile. “It’s… well, it’s still awkward, but it’s not quite as bad—talking about all of this—as I thought it would be.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Talk to me about it, that is.”

Jon’s smile turns a bit hesitant. “So you would really be okay if I… if I never asked again? To, er. To have sex.”

“Yes,” Martin says, without hesitation.

“Oh,” Jon says quietly. “And- and if I said that I did? Want to? That… that would be okay too? Even if I’d already said that I didn’t?”

“Yep.”

Jon looks down at his hands where they’re twisted tightly in the hem of his jumper, then back up at Martin. “All right.” He hesitates a moment, then says, “And if… if I said that I wanted to have sex… now?”

Ah. It looks like Martin’s not done blushing quite yet. “Yep, that- that’s fine with me,” he squeaks out, then cringes internally. Fine? Really?

Thankfully, Jon doesn’t seem offended; if anything, he seems amused, his mouth quirking up into a small smirk. “All right, then.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Martin’s lips, soft and chaste and ever-so-slightly lingering before he pulls away. “I, er. I think I’d like to just kiss for a bit, though.” His smile turns teasing. “Foreplay is very important, after all.”

Martin groans and gives Jon a look, his face likely fully tomato-red by now. “Jon.”

“Need to make sure we’re fully in the mood before beginning proceedings—”

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point,” Martin says, a giggle slipping out around the words. Then, because he’s nothing if not a little mischievous himself, he leans forward and captures Jon’s lips in a kiss, significantly less chaste and a touch more insistent, pressing until Jon is leaned back against the arm of the couch and Martin is hovering over him. Martin disengages from the kiss so he can marvel at the flushed, wide-eyed expression on Jon’s face. “Like that?” he says innocently.

Jon blinks up at him for a few seconds, like he’s not entirely sure how to process everything in front of him, before he smiles, a warm, happy thing that captures Martin’s heart entirely and steals it away. “I do believe that was adequate, yes. Perhaps you should do it again though, just to make sure.”

So Martin does. I love him, he thinks as he kisses Jon on the couch and kisses him again on the bed, kisses him in the spot between his shoulder blades where he always carries tension and in the dip of his clavicle and on the inside of his thigh. And when he’s curled up next to Jon after, he presses another kiss to the crown of Jon’s head and wraps his arms around him and quietly discards his mental lists of does and doesn’t. He’ll start from scratch, he decides, and after a moment’s thought, he comes up with two more lists, upon which it’s surprisingly easy to add item after item after item.

Jon likes to be kissed. Jon likes eggs and toast, but not jam, and likes his tea black and slightly oversteeped. Jon doesn’t like wool because he finds it itchy. Jon doesn’t like white wine, but he likes red, the kinds that are too dry for Martin’s tastes.

Jon likes Martin, and Martin likes him too. So, so much. And even when things change, when Jon finds a white wine he likes at a restaurant they visit and he takes his tea once with honey and enjoys it and he goes through a period where he doesn’t enjoy open-mouthed kisses and Martin adjusts his lists accordingly, that remains.

#archivalpride #the magnus archives #jongeorgie #jontim #jonmartin #tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #georgie barker #melanie king #martin blackwood #my fic #my writing

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makeste · 3 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 314: ...Or You Live Long Enough to See Yourself Become the Villain

Previously on BnHA: Some random assholes were all “let’s throw exploding spears at All Might and see if it activates his Conqueror’s Haki” and SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS, IT DID!! Elsewhere, Lady Nagant confusingly tried to capture Deku alive by shooting him in the stomach, but to be fair I guess that’s what happens when you send an assassin to do a bounty hunter’s job, so yeah. Deku was all “ouch”, and then because this is a shounen he basically just straight up forgot about it, and did a big fancy Smokescreen thing, and then activated his mildly incomprehensible new ki-blasting quirk which he got from the Third. En and the Third were all “hey Deku maybe let’s not just impulsively activate all this shit in the heat of battle when you don’t know how to use it yet and you’re already injured,” and Deku was all “thanks for the quirks guys but I’ll take it from here” and snuck up on Nagant and grabbed her arm and so now what’s going to happen I wonder.

Today on BnHA: Nagant is all “[shoots Deku again]” because of course she is lol. Deku is all “tell me about AFO!” and Nagant is all “why would I tell you anything?” and then proceeds to tell him her entire life story which is FILLED WITH SO MUCH MURDER, YOU GUYS. Holy shit. So basically she was an assassin for the HPSC, which we already knew, but somehow it’s one thing to know that, and another to actually see her running around capping dudes in the forehead and being covered in more blood than the elevator from The Shining. Anyway, so you’ll never believe it, but all that murder had a negative impact on her psychologically, and eventually led her to question everything she believed about hero society, and so she killed her creepy boss and was promptly sent to Tartarus. This extremely fun chapter ends with Overhaul showing up all “HI, HELLO, I’M STILL HERE”, because for some reason he is still here. Why are you still here, Overhaul.

“the beautiful Lady Nagant” oh you know your audience don’t you Horikoshi

well all right then! so I’m guessing this means that she is not, in fact, going to roll over and die just because Deku’s out here all “GOT YA!” like they’re playing a game or tag or something. ffff may the manga gods have mercy on our young suicidal protagonist

lmao so Deku is all “GOD I’M SO SMART, WHAT A GOOD STRATEGY I HAD, CAPITOL JOB THERE OL’ CHAP, CAPITOL” and lol, okay. I mean, it was a good plan though. but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop here

“I’ll make you give me information on All for One” well there you go, lol. Deku Angst arc still fully engaged. still no light in his eyes either of course. just a lil chaotic ball of sleep deprivation and rage

lol, fucking THANK YOU though

oh my god what the hell did she do to him lol

did she shoot him with her elbow??? fucking look at this?? THIS IS WHY WE LISTEN TO HAWKS oh my god Deku are you dead

WHAT’S HAPPENING, IS THIS GOOD OR BAD, WHO’S WINNING

things that I wish I could tell from this panel which I unfortunately cannot tell

did she stab him or shoot him?? can you imagine if it was the former lol. why does Horikoshi keep stabbing all my kids. look Kacchan now the two of you can match

did she actually hit him or did he get away??

or did she hit him and then he jumped away?? just, what

well anyway, so now Deku is asking her why she sided with AFO, but he seems a lot more pissed off than when he was interrogating Muscular, though. probably because she shot him three times. fair enough

oh my god

does Lady have a blog here on tumblr dot com?? -- does Horikoshi have a blog here on tumblr motherfucking dot com?? why do I suddenly feel like this man is out here sneakily reading up on all our discourse

oh my god Deku it’s almost like getting up close and personal with someone who can shoot custom bullets from any distance and any position with deadly accuracy was a terrible fucking idea

IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD WARNED YOU NOT TO ENGAGE WITH HER AT ALL COSTS. IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD HAD THE FORESIGHT TO DO THAT sob. can you imagine how much shorter this series would be if characters actually listened to Hawks. Hawks, and Momo. why do we even let anyone else run the show ever

OH MY GOD

DEKU, RUN

OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING

this looks a lot like what happens to me whenever I play One’s Justice. those fucking combo attacks that you can’t fucking escape from and so your character just has to stand there getting their ass whalloped repeatedly while you wonder why you paid $40 for this

but anyways though. so Lady who did you kill?? I bet they deserved it, don’t worry I forgive you

(ETA: ANYWAY SO FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT LADY NAGANT DID NOTHING WRONG EVER IN HER ENTIRE LIFE. aside from murdering all those innocent people and shit. but there were CIRCUMSTANCES, and THEY WERE EXTENUATING, OKAY.)

-- holy shit

looks like the HPSC arc is back on the menu boys

so are we about to learn that the HPSC was going full Hydra on people’s asses? secretly dispatching anyone they deemed a threat to society?? “taken care of” as in you fucking shot them??

so then was the “hero” she killed actually one of the guys who was giving or carrying out these orders?? holy shit Lady, up until now I’ve mainly just been stanning you for your flawless eyebrow game and metal af quirk, but this shit could actually get real very quickly, and I am prepared to genuinely and sincerely love the shit out of you depending on what we learn next about your backstory

oh my god?!?

so wait, hold up. am I reading this right?? basically the HPSC started murdering vigilantes because they were worried they were gaining too much of the public’s favor?? holy fucking shit???

oh my GOD oh my god

“it’s been a while since I scarred you all with the dead dog and the graphic slaughter of an entire innocent family, huh,” Horikoshi says thoughtfully. “anyway so what do you all think of my new creation, the Spaghetti Bullet.” well, Horikoshi, so you know that squished-up face that Kermit the Frog makes sometimes? yeah. that’s what I think, if you must know lol

holy hell the juxtaposition

I’m actually kind of surprised to learn she had a lot of fans? what with her M.O., I was expecting her to have been an underground hero like Aizawa, but apparently not? then again I still have absolutely no idea how any of that works. I really need to read Vigilantes already

oh snap

nothing like a sweet dose of assassin trauma to finally round out our BnHA Trauma Bingo!! well done guys, we finally collected all of the traumas! hooray!

noooo Ladyyyyyyy

holy shit what a fucking chapter. like, this man promised us an assassin, and went and fucking delivered. I was not expecting it to be this dark, lol, but holy shit I am here for it

you know, at some point you have to start questioning the logistics of this, though

I mean, how do I put this... her quirk isn’t exactly subtle. that murder scene from a few pages back looked like the first season of Dexter for fuck’s sake, that’s not exactly “disappearing” people now is it?? and I mean, her bullets are literally made from her own fucking hair; it seems like it would be impossible not to leave any evidence behind. did no one start to wonder who the fuck was going around murdering all these people? or did the people who asked too many questions wind up getting conveniently “disappeared” themselves??

and hey, speaking of asking too many questions

holy shit is he blackmailing her??!? or no, wait -- what the hell is he reaching for in his pocket boy you better not

(ETA: what exactly was this man expecting fdslkjd. “uh oh my unstoppable hair trigger assassin who is literally always armed is asking questions, better announce that I am going to shoot her and then reach into my pocket veeeeeery slowly while she stands there all of two feet away.” how did this guy ever function as the head of a shadow government with these decision-making skills, I’m genuinely baffled.)

OH MY GOD LADY YES

this. right here. is why “run the fuck away” was damn good solid fucking advice. oh shit. but my god did this dude have it coming

so wait lol has she just been narrating all of this out loud to Deku this entire time

okay but can we just stop for a moment and appreciate the fact that they’re having this deep conversation about the dark secrets of hero society right in the middle of their intense mid-air sniper free-for-all lol

holy shit you guys, Nagant’s the one that should have made the tell-all video. I mean, no offense to you, Dabi, I’m sure you worked very hard on your video and did a ton of crunches every day so that you would look good with your shirt off while you told the world all about how your dad was a jerk. but seriously...

this is already like 100x more convincing than what he put out. also, gasp, is it another flashback

yes it is oh my gosh

so the HPSC Chairladyperson whom ReDestro killed used to be this guy’s direct subordinate, huh? I wonder if she kept the whole assassin program going after she took over. can’t say I was feeling any particular kind of grieving way about her death before, but certainly not now lol

but unfortunately Nagant has finally lost me at the same place where all of the villains inevitably do, which is to say when they somehow make the dubious mental leap from “society sucks and is bad” to “let’s just be openly fucking evil lol, worth a shot.” because when heroes murder innocent people and cover it up, that’s obviously bad (and I mean, it absolutely fucking is lol, don’t get me wrong); but when villains murder innocent people straight up out in the open without giving a fuck, they’re righteous revolutionaries? just -- is there really no non-murdery middle ground here?? I guess that’s what Deku and co. are for, hopefully

anyways oh shit Deku seems to have spotted something?? and he’s doing something weird with Blackwhip what

oh, he spotted her, I guess

lmaooooo

new favorite Deku panel right here. a masterpiece

oh my god you guys our little boy is starting to grow up before our eyes

you love to see it. and you can tell with those elipses that he’s gearing up to say something really cool and determined and badass like the shounen protag he is, yes please, Deku ilu so much please do your thing

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

IS THAT A TEENY TINY LIL EYE SPARKLE THERE OMG. still not anywhere close to his usual standard, but that’s some clear resolve there in his eyes there at long last! it always shines the most clearly when he’s being true to himself and his ideals, so I love that it finally shows up again here, when he’s reaffirming his resolve to help others no matter what

uh oh so what’s Lady going to do now

is it time for a trump card?? kinda sounding like it’s time for a trump card

???

I lied btw, this is my new favorite Deku panel. but anyways what is she up to now lol

ohhhhhh, lol

why does she seem shocked, lol. here I thought this was part of her plan, but apparently she forgot all about ol’ “Look Ma, No Hands” back up there

and so I guess that’s it for this week! so we’ve learned basically everything now about Lady and her quirk and her history with the HPSC and why she agreed to work for AFO. pretty much the only question that still remains is why the hell she decided to drag this asshole along for the ride! because I still cannot figure that out dsklkjlkf

(ETA: actually now I’m kind of wondering if they maybe have some past connection we don’t know about yet. when exactly was Nagant sent to Tartarus? is it possible she was ordered to track down and kill Overhaul at some point before that, but never got around to it? or something else along those lines? idk but now I’m curious.)

anyways Deku, I know that your empathy has no bounds and that you’re on a “saving villains” kick right now, and good on you... but also, if you decide to just like, skip all of that shit just this once, absolutely no one will hold it against you, I’m just saying. just, all I’m asking here is maybe let’s think twice before we start trying to reform guys who imprison and torture little girls for profit. I think maybe that’s a good place to draw the line. next week is going to be a very interesting chapter lol

#bnha 314 #lady nagant #midoriya izuku #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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amelee23 · 4 years ago

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Fool | J. YH

Genre: Fluff

Tags: Best friends to lovers, Suggestive themes and sexual jokes, Wooyoung is an accidental wingman, Nerdy gamers having at it, A lot of Need for Speed references

No. Words: 3.5k

⭐⭐⭐

She always loved when they got completely absorbed in their little bubble - engrossed in what was making them tick in the most passionate of ways. Since Yunho came to pick her up and take her to the dorm, she didn’t even realize when they got there - or even that the house was empty - because they were too caught in a conversation about the new-coming video games of 2021. The small task of taking off shoes or their jackets, the walk to Yunho’s room and the struggle to get comfortable in the gaming chair; these were not memories in her mind. All she could remember was the way he smiled without stop and the sparkle in his eyes as excitement took over his entire being.

Only after Yunho told her he’s been playing old games lately - specifically racing classics, of the Need For Speed series - had she realized the house was too quiet. Yunho then informed her they all left to eat at a restaurant with the manager team, but he asked to be left behind so he could spend time with his best friend. She couldn’t help the warm smile raising her lips at the sweet sacrifice this man made for her.

A few minutes later and she felt the usual competitive side of her kick in, seeing Yunho with a controller in hand, playing Need for Speed: Underground 2, a game she remembered dearly from her childhood. She couldn’t help but feel she could do so much better than him - and that’s how the challenge came to be.

“Yeah, you want to bet?” Yunho suggested, his cheeks raised in a cheeky smile, but his lips expressed something a lot more smug.

“2 out of 3: sprint, Street X and drift.” The boy laughed at his best friend’s confidence, finding her determination very charming, like always.

“Deal.” He announced, raising his hand so she could high five the deal to completion. It never failed to amaze him, how gentle her high fives felt to him, even though she’s the only woman he’s ever seen break a controller before. “What are we betting on, money?”

“Money is boring.” Taken aback, Yunho had a healthy laugh at her statement. He couldn’t wait to say this sentence again, out of context, and turn it into both teasing material and an inside joke.

“Okay, then what do you suggest?” He asked, still cackling with a half lidded eye smile.

“Let’s do something more… daring.” Trying to act surprised, Yunho opened his eyes in curiosity and hummed. They both got to thinking for about a minute, then she snapped her fingers exaggeratedly to show she had an idea. “Let’s randomly ask Wooyong to give the loser a punishment!”

“Like, with no context?”

“Exactly! After one of us loses, we ask Wooyong to give out a spicy punishment-! No one would be better than him at coming up with something totally ridiculous that one of us will regret for a lifetime!”

“I mean, you’re not wrong. But I’m starting to think you’re a masochist.”

“It’s a 50/50 gamble, so who knows?” She rebutted, wiggling her eyebrows at Yunho suggestively. He could feel his ears heating up so he pretended to need to face his computer for a while. “So, what do you say?” She questioned him, moving closer to where he was, probably intentionally, because she knew how to tell when he was turning shy.

“I say you’re both crazy and a genius … a crazy genius. But I’m all on board.”

“Yas, leggo baby!” Yunho shook his head as he took in the image of his best friend leaning back into her chair, controller in hands, legs somewhere in between the right armrest and the air. Her enthusiasm dripped from the way she was grooving to the OST of the game. Warmth and an electricity-like feeling began filling his chest.

It took them perhaps a little too long to decide on the first track to play. Eventually, after long minutes of bickering, they chose a winding long race and swore to not try to mess the other up.

Yunho was the first one to drive, his engine roaring as he continued to hold his acceleration button. He had some lucky escapes from running into traffic - and easily overcame his competition. Now in front, he was taking short cut turns, but to her, they looked too time consuming. Yunho was trying to drive as properly as possible, and it was affecting his time; she couldn’t help but puff up as she realized it would be an easy win against him. With a record of 2:27:34, Yunho rolled his chair away from the screen and let his best friend take over.

Hands grasping the controller, she took a deep breath to overly-dramatize the situation even further.

“Eat my dust.” She mumbled, and Yunho gave her a curious side eye.

Swiftly she overtook all the NPCs, climbing up to first place. She wasn’t even worried about them to begin with. As the turns approached, Yunho realized she wasn’t showing signs of taking her fingers away from the acceleration button - not until the last second, at least. Her turns were either taken with the help of crashing into a wall or into a stylish, speedy drift. Yunho was baffled, thinking that crashing on purpose to finish faster should be considered as cheating. But he accepted his defeat as her time was 2:14:58, over ten seconds less than him.

Cracking her knuckles, she wore a smug smile as she let Yunho choose the next race for them to play. It was 1 to 0 currently, so he decided he should spice things out now - by choosing a ‘random’ Street X race. He probably forgot to mention to her that Street X were his forte in this game.

Yunho put his focus face on from the moment the cars showed up on screen. For most, this Street X race was difficult to even beat on first place - but he knew what he was doing.

“I hope you had your fun.” He threatened, hands moving effortlessly on the controller to take him through the sharp, abrupt turns which were in Street X - a race type specifically made about taking those turns right, not about speed. Raw talent was dripping off of his fingers, but she didn’t want to feel discouraged just yet. Perhaps her method of using walls to take turns could work here, too-

Now that it was her turn, she realized it wasn’t the case - in here hitting walls was the worst thing you could do. Eyes dashing in between her car and the timer non-stop, she realized she was losing a lot of time correcting her direction if she didn’t brake properly before a turn. By the last lap, she already lost hope, as she reached Yunho’s record and wasn’t done with the race yet.

“Tight game.” She stated, trying to ease the thick competitive air in the room. Yunho just smiled, a sparkle of something naughty in his eyes.

“Would you like to do the honours?” He asked, referring to choosing the drift track, the last race of their competition. He looked so sure of himself, to even offer that she chooses the track; she couldn’t help but feel even more frustrated by that cockyness.

“Yeah.” She answered, not even looking him in the eyes. She knew what track she wanted - the one on the actual streets of the city, which had two off road areas - those were bomb in doing drifts over 50.000 points.

Yunho was surprised she chose such a difficult track, but didn’t really complain. He had recently unlocked this track since he was nearing the end of the game, and so he knew the trick of the off road areas too, especially because he failed them enough times. He collected small drifts here and there on the way to the first special area, then he made sure to catch enough speed to send the back of his car in a beautiful curve, following the form of the turn. He didn’t need to, but he took the risk of connecting that turn to the next one that followed and gathered around 74.000 points in that area only. She was biting her lip, wondering if she still had the nimbleness to beat that.

The next special area gained him about 37.000, and with all the other points collected from smaller drifts, he was able to gain over 130 thousand.

She was already pinching the bridge of her nose, knowing that she would probably lose. It’s been a while since she played this game, and the special drift areas were always a gamble. Yunho couldn’t help but laugh at the tension in her back, giving her a friendly pat to brighten up.

“You got this!” He cheered, because even if he wanted to win, he didn’t like seeing her so discouraged. He often times also got mad when he realized he was being too competitive and not giving anyone a chance to win against him.

She started out just like Yunho, gaining some small scores on the way to the main attraction of the race. As she saw the goal in her eyes, suddenly she struggled to regain control of her car in the midst of the big drift. She was headed straight for the edge, meaning her score would be neutralized if she hit it - so she was forced to stop her car. The special area unfortunately only brought her 55 thousand, a weak number compared to Yunho. She brushed it off and continued on her way, towards the second special area. She had a better feeling about this one, as her car was being much more responsive, and even if the space was smaller, she gained another 50 thousand there too.

But unfortunately, as she hit the finish line, she realized - they both scored in the range of 130 thousand - but hers was exactly that number. Yunho was closer to 140.

With a little dance celebration, Yunho announced he was the winner of the tournament. Seeing him act so goofy, she couldn’t even bring herself to sulk. It’s not like it was unusual for Yunho to win their dumb little competitions, but it would’ve been nice to win one anyway.

“I acknowledge your driving skills, Mr. Jung.” She said with a smirk, offering him a hand to shake.

“You weren’t so bad yourself, well… except the part of taking turns with your face.” Now that the tension was lifted, they were back to being all smiley and supportive of each other.

“What can I say? I like using my head.” Yunho chuckled, grabbing the controller to quit out of the game so he could find some movie to watch while they eat. Remembering that he needed to order some food, he pulled out his phone - and read Wooyoung’s name.

“So… do I need to ask Wooyoung to give you a ‘daring’ punishment?” He used air quotes to express the idea of something naughty. For a while he forgot that this was the penalty of losing, the thought completely slipping his mind as he focused too much on doing well in the game.

“I guess.” She shrugged her shoulders, secretly hoping that he had forgotten and she could’ve avoided doing something so embarrassing.

Hesitant, Yunho opened the messenger app and tapped on Wooyoung’s name. He didn’t know if he was excited about what was about to come.

[Yunho]: Hey Wooyoung, can you come up with a ‘daring’ punishment a girl could do for a guy for losing a game?

[Sent 18:46]

A thick silence enveloped the two as Yunho stared at the screen, waiting for Wooyoung to see his message. They were both hoping the resident jokester of the group would go easy on them this time.

[Seen 18:51]

Five minutes later, Wooyoung saw the message and Yunho watched the three dots dance for a very short amount of time. And, as it turned out, Wooyoung didn’t ask any questions - he gave a straightforward answer.

[Wooyoung]: Oral

His answer had Yunho opening his eyes in pure shock. He glanced at his best friend, who was looking at him expectantly, and then back at the screen.

“Uhm…” He couldn’t even bring himself to mutter such a word to her. Before he knew it, he let his phone down and stared into the distance like a deer in the headlights.

Yes, asking Wooyoung was a bad idea.

“Uhm? Did he answer?” She pressed on, and Yunho couldn’t do much more than nod.

“Look for yourself.” He showed her his phone, and she felt as if she just got hit with a soccer ball in the stomach. Blinking at Yunho in disbelief, she let out a confused puff of air.

“I mean, I expected something like a sexy dance…. But not this. Wooyoung really is another level.” She complained, suddenly looking as lost as Yunho. They both looked like ghosts, the colors drained from their faces.

In truth, both of their heads were racing at that moment - imagining what could happen if they went through with it. Yunho’s face heated up and his body grew heavy, and she was biting her lip. But a common thought was keeping them both grounded; that they were just friends, and nothing more.

Moments later, Yunho was able to collect himself and focus his vision again. She was in distress, even in a haze. He pulled out his phone again, texting Wooyoung to rectify the situation.

[Yunho]: How about something a little bit… more decent. This is my best friend we’re talking about.

Wooyoung read the message instantly after, his fingers fast on the keyboard.

[Wooyoung]: Oh my God it’s her! Why didn’t you tell me! I thought you were finally scoring a lady with those video games of yours!

[Yunho]: I told you guys I was spending time with her today

[Wooyoung]: You did? OOPS

[Yunho]: Yeah, oops. You almost gave me a heart attack

[Wooyoung]: *boner

[Yunho]: DUDE

[Wooyoung]: Okay okay I’m sorry, but you’re the one who asked me outta the blue

[Wooyoung]: Something a little more tame… HMMM

[Wooyoung]: You’re a tall dude, right? How about you have her wear one of your shirts for the rest of the day… but like only your shirt. I bet she’d look cute ;)

[Yunho]: That doesn’t sound that bad, thanks

[Wooyoung]: I can’t wait to get home :P

She dragged her voice suddenly, bringing Yunho back to reality. He didn’t realize how focused he was in his conversation with Wooyoung.

“Uhm, so, yeah! Wooyoung gave you a more tame challenge. He said you should wear one of my shirts for the rest of the day… like, as a dress type thing.” Yunho tried to explain, but he was still nervous from the previous shock and tripping over his own words.

“So wear a boyfriend shirt.” Yunho felt his being vibrate once again at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’.

“I… guess so.”

“I can do that! That sounds more like a prize than anything, to be honest. You know I have a fixation for your clothes.” She said with a laugh. She seemed to be back to her cheerful self, already walking her way to Yunho’s closet. “Can I choose any shirt?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Still no intonation in his words, Yunho’s mind was not present in the conversation at all. It wasn’t long before he zoned out again.

He couldn’t possibly be attracted to his best friend in such a way. They had a strong spiritual bond, for sure, but it was never anything physical for them. They appreciated each other for who they are, so he never asked himself questions like these before.

Or at least that’s what he wanted to believe. He heard the door handle move and then saw her come back in, legs bare and sexy, her small frame basically swimming in his large shirt. She sat down on her chair and melted back into it without a care in the world. She looked comfortable, even.

“So, are we ordering that food?” She asked, but in Yunho’s daze, he missed the smirk playing on her lips. If only he knew how much she was enjoying this.

Forcing her to stay put, Yunho was the one to receive the food at the front door. He sighed in relief when he managed to put a blanket over her, as they nestled up in bed to watch a movie and enjoy their food. Out of sight, out of mind, they say.

His torture began again as soon as they got back into gaming - this time choosing to do their usual foolery - playing Minecraft together, one being in charge of the mouse and the other in charge of the keyboard. No wonder they never made any real progress on their world, since they could never be in sync with each other to actually defend themselves from zombies. ‘

Time flew by as they laughed and played, but the rustle of keys at the front door still managed to startle Yunho out of his mind. Panicked, he got up to throw her pants back at her, words leaving his mouth a little too fast.

“How about you put those back on now.” Cocking an eyebrow at him, she hung them on the chair, clearly refusing to do so.

“Why would I? The punishment says for the rest of the day - or as long as I’m here.”

“Yes, but-” Yunho pursed his lips to the side. He didn’t know how to word his thoughts. To add more pressure, the door to his room swung open and San came inside to throw his phone on the bed. He glanced at Yunho’s best friend briefly and they exchanged hellos before he went back to the living room, where the boys were being loud over something.

Yunho breathed out in relief that San was nice enough not to stare. Something about other men seeing her like this irked him, even more so that she was wearing his shirt.

“But?” She urged him to continue speaking, getting off of the chair to stand in front of him. Being the tall guy Yunho was, it wasn’t often that she had the opportunity to stare him down like that. Yunho gulped as he felt his throat dry up, taking in the image of his friend - no, an attractive woman - looking at him with such a suggestive expression.

“I don’t want anyone else to see you like this…” He mumbled, the beauty before his eyes already making him breathless.

“Why not?” She teased.

“Because…” There wasn’t any logical answer in his mind, or even a concrete idea. “I think we need to reevaluate our relationship.” Letting out a healthy laugh, she wasted no time to climb in his lap. Yunho was happy, perhaps the most relieved he’d been the entire day. He didn’t know there was such a sexual tension in between them until it finally dissipated.

“Finally!” She exclaimed.

“You think so too?” She hummed in response, eyes locking with his lips as she did.

The kiss itself felt good - like two magnets clicking into place. What felt even better though, was being able to accept all the feelings he’s been burying deep inside himself. He was wrong in thinking something more wasn’t possible between them.

A loud knock echoed from the door, and Wooyoung’s voice could be heard screaming from the other side.

“You two decent?”

“No!” Yunho yelled back. They certainly weren’t a sight he’d want his bandmates to see - his shirt was hiking up on her thighs, their arms tangled around each other’s bodies.

“What do you mean ‘no’??!” This time it was HongJoong’s voice, and Yunho knew he messed up. Almost effortlessly, he got up with her still around his hips and grabbed her pants on the way to the bathroom.

“Okay, but seriously get dressed now.” Yunho said, and only got a wink from her in response. He rolled his eyes and went back into the room to let her change.

He really was a fool to think this wouldn’t work out - he already loved every second of it.

#Jung Yunho #yunho #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez fluff #yunho imagines #yunho fluff #yunho scenarios #yunho Fanfiction #Jung Wooyoung #Ateez smut #Yunho smut #kpop Fanfiction #best friends to lovers

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princessofprocrastination · 4 years ago

Text

She’s Creepy (Dream)

MASTERLIST

pairing : dream / clay x reader.

summary : apparently being a huge fan of a big youtuber is considered being a creep, according to minecraft gamer, dream. and ever since he called you mean things, your world turned upside down. (ANGST) (TRIGGER WARNING)

a/n : i’m aware i’ve been writing all angsts, i just enjoy a little heartbreak. this is a two part story!

you haven’t been on social media as a public figure for long, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been on social media before this.

you knew people, you had people you look up to, as of many other social media influencers or content creators.

you grew pretty quick on youtube and instagram. your content mostly included room makeovers whenever you felt bored of your own home or your storytimes. you blew up from talking about your stalker.

since then, your subscibers stayed with you and supported you, saying that you have a charm, and that you exert good energy and vibes. and those type of comments have always made your day.

you always shared with your supporters about your life, not too personal but enough for them to feel included. of course, you’re not telling them your phone number or address, but you tried to share as many details you can legally in your story times.

that also meant that you would tell your supporters small details about you, such as what book you were currently reading or who you’ve been watching on youtube.

even before you stated posting on your channel, you’ve been watching a minecraft youtuber, dream and his friends.

some of your fans would tag them in some of your instagram posts, or tweets that brought no harm so you never really acknowledged it since it wasn’t hurting anyone.

you weren’t “fangirling” you’d say. it was more of you supported them and found them funny and entertaining.

coincidentally, you landed yourself on the dream team tiktok, which means that dream and his friends were all over you for you page.

and to show that you were active and not dead to your followers on instagram, you’d post a funny tiktok, usually included the dream team. you thought it was harmless. to you, it was just a way to show support.

but only a couple days later, hashtags about you and the dream team, more specifically, just dream, were trending.

when you saw this, opening your twitter app, you immediately went to find out what this was about. your heart jumped when you thought maybe dream acknowledged you.

in fact, it was worse.

what was trending was a short video clip during one of the dream teams chill streams on the dream smp.

the conversation between george, sapnap and dream went like this.

“you guys heard about that girl who kept reposting tiktoks about us on her instagram story?” george asked the other two boys.

“heard she watched us before she even started her channel” sapnap.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think she’s being a little creepy.” dream said.

your heart sunk to your stomach. did your actions portray you to be a creep to other people?

“dream, you can’t just say that, especially on stream.” sapnap scolded him, george also mumbling something.

“why can’t i? i feel creeped out by her, a public figure posting me all over her socials.” dream replied, tone serious.

you clicked off the video, before it replayed again. you couldn’t get yourself to rewatch that, to hear those words again.

almost crying, you told yourself to suck it up, that this wasn’t worth you crying.

although they were who you looked up as minecraft gamers, this wasn’t worth your breakdowns.

that was until, you opened your direct messages.

you shouldn’t have. you knew the dream team stans would easily hunt you down, to ask you to back off from creeping their idol off.

but no, you still opened your dms. you expected a normal dm, ones that say they support you or some of your friends sending you memes through instagram.

what you didn’t expect was to see a flood of threats.

some said “kill yourself, you don’t deserve a spot on earth after what you did.” and “back off and leave my mans.”

it got worse from there. you thought maybe it’s just the dms, but you didn’t expect it to blow up more, with people tagging you with photos on instagram and twitter. people “cancelling” you.

you didn’t understand how this blew up like this. you were even more baffled to see some of your supporters sending you threats, too.

was this what you deserved?

you weren’t one to make rash decisions, nor were you a suicidal person.

you felt stupid. just because you supported big youtubers, you get this type of treatment?

the threats, the dm, never stopped. for three whole months, you had to deal with the never ending mean comments on your social media. you thought it would die down.

it came to the point of seeing your address and your phone number all over the internet. you never thought it would lead to this.

you didn’t know what to do anymore.

not long after, people started showing up to your apartment.

sure, your apartment didn’t have the best of security, which you blamed no one but yourself for being a public figure and living somewhere with little to no security.

they started with knocking on your door during ungodly hours. next was mailing weird stuff or sending stuff to your house. lastly, which tipped you off was that they would vandalize your apartment.

they would egg your front door, pee, or spray paint your walls of the outside.

you couldn’t handle it anymore.

soon enough, you knew you had to stand up for yourself. you had to call the police.

and that was exactly what you did. you called the authorities, which made the brave teenagers leave you alone.

while they were egging your house and making your life miserable, you knew this was the only time for you to make a rash decision. to leave the country, to somewhere no one else would fine you at. somewhere unpredictable, that no one would expect you to go.

it took a lot for you to book a plane ticket, box up your belongings and move to a completely different country, away from your hometown, florida.

you loved it in florida. though it was humid all the time, you enjoyed it. now that you had to leave, you only had a little while to cherish it before you leave it all behind.

and your family, your friends. the ones you’ve grown up with, ones you’ve grown to love and cherish. you had to leave that too. and without telling them too much information.

that hurt the most, needing to leave your loved ones behind, to start a new life, to start afresh.

DREAM’S POV

i didn’t know what was happening. one thing added onto another and soon it was out of control.

i didn’t say anything at the start, not thinking it would go this far. i didn’t know to what extent my fans would go.

sure, i saw all the things happening, but i didn’t do anything to stop it.

i saw her address and phone number all over social media, and did nothing about it.

george and sapnap said something, and pushed me to do something about it, but i didn’t. i was stubborn.

speaking of, it’s been months since i heard anything about her from her herself, everything i see is from my fans or hers, wondering where she is.

should i be worried?

YOUR POV

you left florida. the only people you told were your parents and your childhood friend, not trusting anyone else.

what you told them was vague, that you needed to leave, away from the US. specifically, you moved to Australia.

you made a decision to not live near the city, but the outskirts.

you were lucky that you weren’t a spender and you made more than enough money to make the decision to leave so suddenly.

lucky for you, you went to college and had a degree in law, so you didn’t need to worry about not having a job.

you never thought you’d make use of your degree this early in your life, thinking that youtube and being a content creator would last a little while longer.

you had to change you hairstyles, your fashion in general since you had to be in a more professional setting. although it was hard transitioning from a casual wear and having crazy coloured hair to wearing pant suits or formal dresses and going back your natural colour.

three years. it took you three full years for you to even think of visiting your parents in florida again. also, given the fact that you had a stable job and you couldn’t up and leave.

but recently, you were offered to work at another law firm in florida. you were happy to tell that to your family back home but at the same time, you were hesitant to go back to your nightmares.

but you braved yourself, since you missed your family dearly.

now, you were sitting on your desk in your cozy home, finalizing up the last of your move, like getting a house back in florida, this time with a better security just in case.

boxes of your clothes and belongings went first, to reach your new house there before you did so it was easier for you, not having to worry about your stuff.

you asked none of your family’s help, not wanting to burden them. instead you told them to just meet you at a restaurant you booked for you and your family and friends for dinner about three weeks after you landed.

although they protested, saying it was too long until they can see you again, you told them to not worry and that you were going to use those three weeks to start working at the new law firm.

you decided to take a straight flight from australia to florida, not wasting any time. although it was almost a twenty-two hour long flight, you sat throug and got to your hometown safely.

you didn’t know what was going on with the three boys you used to adore, since you didn’t have social media anymore.

but you didn’t mind it, it was peaceful.

two weeks since you’ve stepped foot in florida again. it felt amazing to breathe your hometown air again. it was refreshing.

you have fully settled in your new house, and workplace. you were glad to have met your co-workers. they were all super welcoming and made sure you weren’t left behind in anything.

so far, your transition from australia to florida has been smooth, and you weren’t worried about anything.

you got a car since you’ve arrived, so that you could travel easily from one place to another.

not to brag, but. you were making enough money to live a lavish lifestyle. a big house and a pretty expensive car, and that didn’t even make a dent in your bank account.

you were proud to see that you achieved all this yourself, and only within a couple of years.

you were just excited to meet your family in real life instead of facetime.

finally, the day of the dinner with your family came. unfortunately, you had to take a case in the afternoon, so you had to come to dinner in your work pant suit, with a turtleneck and a little late.

they understood it and told you not to worry about it, and that they would just seat themselves by your name instead of waiting for you. you promised you’d pay their dinners and apologized once again.

the sound of your heels comforted you as you walked from the valet to the restaurant. you were a little nervous to meet them again face to face after three years. but you couldn’t wait to catch up with them and tell them all about your work life that you could never tell them during the facetime calls.

you smiled to yourself, thinking nothing could go wrong. and nothing could really go wrong anyways, it was just a dinner after all.

but you hadn’t expected the three boys you used to idolize to be eating dinner at the same restaurant you and your family would be at, specifically, opposite your table.

you walked in the restaurant, telling the front of the house that you had a table reserved under your name and that you were pretty sure the rest of your family was already there.

she politely told you to walk alongside her, leading you to your family.

you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. you were solely focused on seeing your family that you didn’t know that there were extra pair of eyes staring at you.

you smiled as your family saw you. your mum crying while standing up to hug you tightly, as she once did three years ago.

you could hear your friends shout your name loudly, as if to tell the whole world that you were finally here.

“don’t cry, i’m staying, no more going back to australia, i swear.” you told your mum, trying to reassure her that you were fine and that you were not going to leave her again, since she hadn’t stopped crying.

you moved to hug your dad, who had been patiently waiting for his turn after his wife. “you look great, kiddo.” you thanked him as he complimented your professional look.

you sat down, somewhere in the middle, between your family, opposite of your parents so that everyone could clearly see and talk to you easily.

with how noisy you family were, you were sure the entire restaurant knew your name and where you had just moved from.

they asked you about australia, what was it like to work there, away from your family. you caught up with every single one of them.

“don’t you live in that really expensive neighbourhood right now?” one of your childhood friends asked.

you winked at her, discreetly trying to answer her question. the whole table shouted and congratulated you for making it this far, in only a matter of short years.

you covered your face, shy, not wanting this part of your life to be told to everyone in the restaurant.

GEORGE’S POV

there she was. the person whose life we practically ruined. luckily, we didn’t ruin it all for her. i guess she made use of her brains and is working a normal job.

“dude.” i tried to attract the other two boys’ attention.

“i know.” both of them answered me.

“she’s rich rich, huh?” sapnap almost chuckled but was totally serious saying that.

“yup.” dream.

ah yes, clay. the man dream himself. sapnap and i tried to persuade him into making it right for her, for you.

sure, he had said those mean words, but he can take it back. three years ago, at least.

she disappeared three years ago. vanished. no one knew where you went. some say you moved out of the country, which deemed to be true. couple of years later people started to find out what you worked as, but i tried my best to help get rid of the information

but they just couldn’t pinpoint where. you basically uped and left everything.

and there was time to apologize, but it had been to late.

i thought she died, quite frankly. i didn’t want to be the cause of someone dying. well at least, not me, but my friend.

now us three were seated in a pretty formal and expensive restaurant to eat dinner. and we did not expect to see her here.

she came in a little late, wearing a very professional wear. seemed like you went to work before this.

i knew you were a lawyer, we three knew that since our fans found it out.

she looked completely different. hair not her usual crazy colours. just seeing her in heels baffled me. she was wearing something formal and that wasn’t what you usually wore, years ago.

DREAMS’S POV

she’s beautiful.

not that she wasn’t before.

but this version of her was different. her in her pant suit, in heels. a turtleneck under her blazer.

she looked elegant. classy. rich.

i mean, she is rich.

her family screamed when she told them where she lived. and man, that neighbourhood only had rich people. it had one of the best, if not the best security you could ask for.

it wasn’t easy to buy a house there. even if you had the money, you’d need a certain bank card to be allowed to even be shortlisted.

and if i saw it correctly, she drives a bentley that was just parked by a valet kid.

damn. she is one successful woman.

i know, how could i think this much of her, how dare i when i didn’t even apologized. i didn’t even try.

in fact. i did. even before she went MIA, fully on social media, i sent her direct messages everywhere. she never replied to any of them.

and i knew no one that had her phone number. and soon enough, no one had heard from her in three years.

and now she’s back. more beautiful than ever.

i needed to speak to her i couldn’t live with the guilt that stayed for these past three years.

my fans, my so called supporters made her life a living hell and i almost did nothing to stop it.

i’m sure she hates me. but i have to try somehow, right?

question is, she didn’t have a social media anymore, and i can’t just speak to her now that she was sitting opposite my table.

i kept on pondering as i heard a little bit of her conversation, about her life.

i guess she moved to australia, and worked in a lawfirm in the outskirts. so unpredictable of her. no one would’ve guessed that in a million years.

i watched as i see her smile as she listened to what her parents were saying.

i cherished the smile since i didn’t know when was the next time i’d see her.

she asked the waiter for the bill, covering the whole cost of her and her huge family’s meal.

damn, this girl is too rich for her own good.

she puts down the bill on the table, also leaving a generous tip for the waiter that served them. she stood up to walk after her family, needing to pass my table.

since she had been oblivious to her surroundings, i didn’t expect her to spot us, to notice us.

but i was wrong.

PART 2

#dream x reader #dream imagines #dreamwastaken #dream fanfic #dream imagine #dreamwastaken imagines #dream fanfiction

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years ago

Text

The Birthday Fic

Several months in the making. Started around Ruggie’s birthday (Which is why he’s the opener) completed long past my own birthday.

Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, mentions of illness and the medication needed for managing it, and getting wildly horny to a point that even I was impressed with myself.

As always, there’s more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, send me a message if you liked it! (I know what the birthday gifts were from most everyone, even if not mentioned in-fic.)

~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry dude, what did you say? You ears started going and I just tuned the fuck out."

"I said, 'when's it your turn to have the school-run birthday party?' It's got it be soon." Ruggie's intentionally twitching his damn ears, has to be, and you had to physically shield your eyes to be able to answer properly.

"I don't fucking know, man, I need to have a birthday for that."

"Everyone has a birthday."

"Yeah, but I don't know when mine is."

"Can't Crowley tell you? He's got all kind of magic."

You sighed. "He tried that, so I could remember my proper name. He can't even get a year fix."

"That fucking sucks, Yuu." Ruggie passed you a pop can before cracking open one himself. "You should get one of these, too."

"Ah, maybe Riddle will take pity and dedicate me a specific Unbirthday party." What was this, melon? Not bad.

"That's not the same because you won't get loot."

"Yeah, you wanna go through fifty boxes of chocolates to get rid of all the ones with potion-of-suck-your-dick? I'm good."

He scrunched his nose in disgust. "People still trying love spells on you?"

"Not as much, but I still get Mal to check them over for me. He's good about that."

"He just doesn't want to share."

"Shush."

"It's true!" He stopped for a moment. "Does he know you don't have a birthday?"

"He hasn't realized yet and you're not going to tell him."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

"Trey?" You blinked up at him. You didn't talk as much as you'd like to, mostly because every time he showed up your mouth rapidly filled with whatever treat he'd just made.

"What do you like best for cake?"

"I will literally eat anything that you put in front of me if you make it, even if it's full of shit I hate."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, new angle. What don't you like?"

Oh boy, he better prepare himself. "Fondant tastes gross, modeling chocolate is white chocolate so I hate it, a cake should be cake and not mostly fucking icing and rice crispy treats, most icing's too heavy for me if it's not whipped cream- why are you writing this down."

He looked up from his notebook, blinking at you with his pleasing yellow eyes. "Because you always give thoughtful feedback to my baking and I want to make you something as a thank you."

"Oh. If that's it, I'd rather have cheesecake."

~*~*~*~

"Mon Trickster~"

"Rook, I'm trying to re-" You yelped as he squeezed your waist, and you swatted at him. "Fuck's gotten into you?"

"What, I cannot play with my sweet friend?" He'd dragged you from your seat in the library, and was now doing his damndest to twirl you around without ramming you through the tables.

"Not right now! I expect this shit from Floyd, not you." He's going to get you both kicked out of the library if he doesn't smarten up.

"Our dearest Malfeasant is playing with the Rose King right now. Besides, he lacks my talents." He stretched your arms out straight before twirling you around, your back pressed to his front.

"Is that getting away with being a shithead?" you ask as you pap the side of his face, too little force to be a slap but with a similar message of 'stop'.

"Amongst much else, my dear!" He managed to dip you low, bracing one of your legs in the air, and you wiggled out of his grasp with a thump to the floor.

"Ah, what an invitation, ma belle! But alas, I cannot. It could never be. I'll see you at lunch." And he left you there, baffled, on the floor.

You wound up getting kicked out of the library after you started shrieking in rage and kicking like a damned toddler. What the fuck was that about?

~*~*~*~

"People are being weird."

"Everyone's weird around you." If Idia's combo kept, this would be a perfect match. "You encourage it in people with your presence. It's a passive AOE. No fighting against it."

"More than normal."

"It's the curse of spring. If you aren't sneezing, you see pretty girls and get stupid." He got his perfect match, and went back to the lobby. "Even I'm not immune to simp fever and spring flowers."

"You sure? You only go outside so you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency."

He pouted at you. "Girlfriends are supposed to be nice to you, you know."

"If I stopped, you'd wonder what's wrong. Anyway, then you couldn't brag to your followers about a tsundere girlfriend."

"You're not even a tsundere! You genuinely like me even when you're mean." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "You're maybe sadodere."

"What's that one?"

"Sadistic yet affectionate."

You opened your mouth but genuinely couldn't argue. He was too fucking cute not to be mean to! What can you say? That pwease-no-buwwy aura he got when distressed was just too much.

"Yeah." He paused, a small smile creeping across his face. "Yuu."

"Yeah?"

"You really like stripes, don't you?"

You looked down, at his blue striped shirt you were wearing. It honestly fit you better than it did him. Further down was pinstriped socks, and if you remembered, the underwear had stripes too.

"What do you think."

~*~*~*~

"Mal?" "Yes?" "Why do you have all this even if you don't wear any of it?" "I do wear earrings now, thanks to you." He dropped another oversized ring onto your finger. "The rest, I simply don't bother with unless I must appear in an official capacity."

"So I'm a special occasion?"

He smiled at you, sweet and genuine. "Always."

"Then why am I your jewelry rack today?" So many necklaces. So many rings. There'd be a crown on your head, too, if the crowns for Draconias weren't essentially elabourate chains hanging off the horns.

"Perhaps I enjoy seeing you wearing my things. You wear Shroud's all the time." He was slowly going through a box of rings, trading them on and off your fingers after puzzling over them.

"Your clothes are tailored, and I'm too big around." You thought for a moment. "So, Mal."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning on something you aren't telling me?"

He blanched and immediately went shift eyed. "Of course not."

You took a breath. "I'm gonna say no."

"Yuu-"

"I'm pretty sure your grandmother would eat me alive if I said yes."

"No!" He made a shushing guesture. "I... am planning something. But not a proposal, my goodness, that would be too much pressure for you and would splinter the kingdom." He sighed. "Even if I would like it."

"I know you would. What are you planning."

"No."

"Yes, tell me."

"It's a surprise. You'll get it at some point in the future."

You thought back to some of the stranger events of the past few weeks. "... is it a birthday party, Malleus."

"Nnnnnnoooooooooooooo?" His face was a desperate, wide-eyed mask of please-believe-me.

"Yes it is."

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have!"

"It's not." He wasn't even facing you anymore, knowing his face would betray him.

You took a deep breath.

"I can keep pretending I don't know. I mean, if you want to throw a surprise party, I can't really stop you. And anyway," you added, "If I don't have a set birthday, there's no way I can know exactly when it's coming."

He relaxed, slightly.

"Don't get me a ring, though."

He chuckled. "That does have implications, doesn't it."

"Don't it, though?"

"I was checking what colours were most flattering for you." He finally turned around, all warm smiles. "I should have known. They all look lovely, because you're the one wearing them."

"Stop." You could feel you cheeks reddening. "If it helps, gold doesn't make my ears act up."

~*~*~*~

When you walked to your dorm one warm day, after school, you simply could not see the building for the brambles grown up since you left this morning.

"Yuu?"

"Grim?"

He squinted at you, unimpressed. "Your prince boyfriend has lost his fucking mind. Why'd he do this?"

"I think I know." You looked in amongst the branches, which held no roses, but something better. You plucked off a blackberry and held it to your little shoulder monster.

"Ew, no. I want tuna."

"Suit yourself." There was a path, and if you got on tiptoes, a tent half-hidden behind the briar. "You ready for a party, Grim?"

"What? What party?"

You shifted him from your shoulder to your hip as you walked along, careful of your sore arm. "They decided I needed a surprise party because I don't have an actual birthday. Figured it out like two... three? weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He stopped, looked away, and bristled. "Why didn't they tell me?!?"

"Because you can't keep a fucking secret?"

He yelled and scrambled to the ground. "Hey assholes why didn't you tell me I better be getting presents too-" He's already out of sight, and you can't stop laughing at him. It's better like this, when he's himself.

~*~*~*~

Why is Everyone here. There's a huge stack of presents, there's a buffet table, there's chairs, there's -

"Shrimpie's here!" And then everyone converged with enough words that it was just a wall of sound; mystery hands leading you to a chair, someone was trying to stick a hat on you -

"Wait!"

People only stepped off and quieted because your voice cracked. Idia, hiding in a corner, managed to raise sympathetic eyebrows before whispering something into Azul's ear.

"I gotta go inside for like, five minutes, I'll be right back." And off you went.

~*~*~*~

"You don't seem the type to do drugs."

You looked up and laughed. "Well, Vil, I gotta get through the day somehow." You shook out two pills and poured a glass of water.

"What are they for?" He leaned against the doorway, as though it wouldn't cover his clothes with splinters and dust.

"These," you said as you pointed to the two in your hands "are anti-nausea. They're new."

"How many of those do you take?" He nodded towards the other bottles on the counter. “I didn’t see them during training.”

"Well," you said, as you started to number them off on your fingers. "I started the first ones after Eliza, to help stabilize my organs, the second ones were immunity-boosting after my pneumonia, I started taking vitamins after that as well, I got sleeping pills for nightmares after Jamil blotted - they don't always work, but hey - and, well." You shook your current bottle. "Your curse vapours are pretty good, it turns out."

He blanched, and you backpedaled. "You weren't yourself, and I only have to take these before meals now. I had to get IVs in the morning for a few days, I couldn't keep... wait, wait, shit, no, I'm sorry, don't make that face -"

Vil crossed the distance, putting his face very close to yours. "You should have told me."

"Why make you feel even worse, man?"

"Because I could have formulated something better for the damage." He flicked your nose, more exasperation than malice. "Cures and poison go hand in hand. I can't fix what was done if I don't know."

"Taking care of my medical woes is not your job, Vil."

"You don't get to tell me what is and isn't my job." He squeezed you close with one arm. "You're just an exhausting little potato."

"I'm a delicious little sweet potato that you can't resist."

He sighed, exhausted. "Yes you are. Now take your pills and stop with secrets."

~*~*~*~

"What kept you?"

"Had to make sure there's room in the fridge for all your food, Trey." He hadn't chosen one cheesecake - he had at least two dozen varieties of bite sized miniatures, labeled by flavour and potential allergens. "You were busy."

"Well, I felt like experimenting. I hope you don't mind."

"You're the one doing me a favour." You looked around, everyone chatting idly with one another. "Where's Mal."

"..."

"I swear to fucking god if he didn't get an invitation to the party he helped organize-"

~*~*~*~

It turns out he'd left to fetch an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers, the scent so overpowering you thought your chair might tip from the force of it.

"You do enjoy them?" Mal was so cute when unsure.

"Yes, dear." As long as people didn't crowd in again. Lately, you can only take so much sensation before your brain shorts out and you start yelling. "Set them on the table, I'll have to start on them later." Hairspray and an arid room would have those dried within the week.

"Which part of the celebration will we start with first?"

"I don't know. It's my party but you're the ones throwing it. Where's Grim?"

He pointed over to one of the set up tables, where Grim sat in a pile of wrapping paper, furiously kick-scratching at a wriggling toy fish as big as he was, while Cater filmed. "We realized a few days ago he'd be unhappy if he didn't get his own presents."

"Aww. Is there catnip in that?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "We're not supposed to have any on campus because Kingscholar is susceptible to it."

You went right past normal laughter straight to wheezing.

~*~*~*~

So far, the highlights were: A mycological photobook from Jade big enough to crush someone's head with (that he cheerfully wrote as such on the inside flap), an enormous multipack of slipper socks from Ruggie (with a note saying it was a return on the doughnut-patterened ones you'd given him for his own birthday) and a parure set from Floyd, crafted from thousands of woven seed pearls with carved coral feature beads that was frankly obscene in the amount of money it must have cost. (He, of course, said it was worth it as long as you wore it for him, and simply laughed when you quipped that he meant with clothing right?)

The rest was fantastic, still - various books and movies, a pretty glass vase from Ace stuffed with wildflowers, fine silk dresses from Kalim and a simple belled bracelet tucked in, from Jamil. Currently, you were opening a basket from Vil.

"Oh, wow," you meant with sincerety as you pulled out a light, fragrant soap. "You make this yourself?"

"Yes. There's soaps, shampoo, conditioner, perfumes, lotions..."

You smiled at him sweetly. "You saying I stink, Shoenheit?"

He mirrored your smile right back at you. "Be sure to use them."

"... I'm going to kill you," you said, laughing, as you lobbed the wrapping paper at his face.

~*~*~*~

"Az?"

"Mm?" He was watching with amusement as you looked the jacket over, a lovingly tailored frock coat in periwinkle wool and shell toggles.

"Are you sure this'll fit?"

"Of course." He guestured down the table to Rook, who waved. "He checked your measurements."

"When did-" Ohhhhhh. Oh. Alright. "I'm surprised he couldn't tell by just looking."

"I could, mon ange! But that was more fun!"

~*~*~*~

Malleus barely hid his pout when sliding his box over to you, and it didn't take you long to guess why. "Floyd's jewels really show yours up, huh."

"Perhaps," he said, pointedly not looking at the boy currently playing with Grim.

"Yours are more special because they're from you." When unwrapped, the box was stunning; carved walnut with shell inlaid curlicues. "My god, how old is this?"

"Older than I am," he said with a smile.

"How old is that, Mal."

He just kept smiling, and you rolled your eyes and opened the box to reveal a piece far, far different than the frothy confection Floyd gave you. A single, sizable brooch of gilt and enamel, a tiny faerie woman staring up at you with imperious emerald eyes, she was so lovingly crafted you could see the tension of her muscles and the hair between her legs.

"This piece is only a hundred and fifty years old," he said mildly. "The artist lives in the Valley of Thorns, and created it in the image of her lover." His smile was fond, and sweet. "They're still together to this day. Even if we may not last so long, I hope that it can be as strong."

The sentiment was enough to make you tear up.

~*~*~*~

Several tissues and a bat-shaped blanket from Lilia later, Idia pulled out a large box. And another, and another.

"Uh, Idia."

He just turned red as he stacked another box.

"Dude, holy fuck. What did you do?"

"Looked at your wishlist on your shopping websites." He's flickering pink at the tips of his hair. "Couldn't decide."

"I told him to just get them all!" Ortho looked wildly proud of himself. "Some of them are from me."

You blinked several times. "I thought the sites broke." You started feeling faint. "Idia."

"Yes?" He finally brought out one last box, easily two thirds your height, and set it in front of you.

"Some of those dolls were... so much madol."

He was shifty-eyed. "Yeah."

"Some of the outfits were themselves more than some of the dolls on those wishlists."

Despite the redness, his face was still. "Yeah."

"Oh my god." You're already sitting down, but you need to lie down. "That's too much money."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Why do you have so much money one of those sites alone was at least a million madol's worth of-"

"Please just open the boxes," he said in a strained voice. "I don't want them all staring."

You take your shaking hands to start unwrapping, mentally trying to figure out which rooms in the building were sound enough to hold obscene amounts of porcelain, resin and plastic. By the time you were done, there were over forty of varying shapes and sizes with complete wardrobes for each; the last not even on any list - that was an art piece near as tall as you, a fine bone china girl with golden curls and knowing eyes from an artist whose work did not go for less than five million madol even firsthand. Your vision greyed at the sight of her, and when you came to your senses, everyone breathed a sigh of relief before spending the rest of the evening treating you as something at least as delicate and precious as her.

~*~*~*~

It's just past sunset, and guests are still milling about. You're not really looking at them, though - you're losing your little friend.

Grim's only himself in daylight, now. Once the night hits, he goes back to the strange, feral thing that laid your wrist open to eat a chunk of solid ink. He's gone twitchy, wordless, pacing with his now headless robot fish in his mouth, before finally tearing through the brambles to god-knows-where.

"... I don't know what to do about it. He doesn't come back at night anymore. What if he doesn't come back at all one night?"

"I won't let that happen." Idia was draped over the back of your chair, idly playing with the wrapping on your wrist. You couldn't see his face, but a curious tension was clear in his voice. "How many of those crystals has he eaten?"

"All of them, as far as I know." There may have been one on the camping trip that you were mercifully excluded from; thankfully your restraining order against Vargas meant that Grimm had been allowed to attend by himself. Good thing, too, your period had arrived weeks early. "Do you think it's like mercury poisoning? The effects get worse as more collects in his body?"

"Maybe. It's something to look into."

You snorted, lightly. "What do you know about it?"

"... Less than I'd like." Before you could ask, he leaned down to your ear to whisper, "I'd rather know you."

"What, now?" You looked around at the tables. "There's still people here-"

You barely stifled a cry when he nipped at your earlobe. "I put on something nice for you~" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he played every trick in his book to goad you. "Unwrap me and see~"

It took every ounce of self control in you to not throw him down on the table and take him right there, in front of God and every student in the school.

~*~*~*~

"I'm too late, I see."

"Close that damned door before everyone hears."

Malleus obediently shut the door to the balcony before setting his slotted pillow on the dresser. "They couldn't even if they had their ear to the door, I soundproofed all our rooms months ago."

"Aren't you clever. Did they buy the excuse?"

"I think that they would have believed that you were going to bed if you did not say it as soon as Shroud went inside looking very proud of himself."

You flopped back onto your pillows, eliciting a sleepy grunt from Idia. "Shit."

"And if you didn't trip on the stairs in your haste."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and idly stroking your leg.

"So, why didn't you tail up after us?"

"I am, if I try very hard, capable of some discretion, even when it comes to you," he huffed. "And anyway, someone had to see everyone off, get everything put away, and bring the gifts inside."

Your face fell. "I'm sorry-"

He crept up to put a finger to your lips. "It was very simple. Now," he pressed himself against you and turned to look at Idia's drowsing form, "what is this?"

You snickered lightly to yourself. "I think he found my browsing history." All you'd left on him was a fine pair of silk stockings, with delicate stripes from thigh to toe. You'd never thought he'd even consider wearing something like that, but your pretty blue boy was so full of surprises.

Malleus hummed to himself as he reached out a hand, dragging a finger along one bruised hip. Idia only sighed and fluttered his lashes, and Mal let out a stuttering gasp.

"Do you think," he whispered, voice hoarse, "that if I took these off with my teeth, that he would still stay asleep?"

You felt faint at the thought. "I don't know, but let me watch you try."

~*~*~*~

You awoke, later, to Idia sitting with the blankets pooled around his waist, five of his blue screens open. You couldn't make much sense of them, too sleepy to make out the letters on their obnoxious brightness, so you reached out both hands to squeeze his waist.

He yelped and scowled at you. "Go to sleep."

"No, you." The screens weren't making any more sense, but there was, briefly, a picture of Grim. "What are you working on?"

"I'm almost done," he said, which was not an answer but you were too tired to notice, so you reached up his back to wind a few locks of hair around your hand - and pulled, which lead to another annoyed yelp as he quickly saved and closed his work. "Just say you're weak to light attacks instead of doing that."

"You know I am." When he finally laid back down beside you, you put your face to his chest, as much to block out the light from his hair as for warmth and comfort. No wonder he slept so poorly, he literally gave off blue light every hour of the day, that only dimmed once he was already asleep. "Tell me about it later, okay?"

"Later," he said, and you drifted off between your two boys, which was almost as nice as sleeping with Grim in your bed, but this would have to do until he got better.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #malleus draconia #idia shroud #twst grim

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

Text

Meet Me In The Hallway (4)

Pairing: Sky x reader

Summary: Sky takes Stella out for a date but it goes horribly wrong so he comes to your room afterwards wanting to prove he’s not ready to give you up despite Stella letting part of your secret slip but she hasn’t revealed the worst part yet keeping you in check.

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @grey-girl @intoanothermind @artsyle

Series Masterlist

“Is it true that you’re a changeling?” You take off running straight for Stella’s room. It has to be her but you just don’t get it because you’ve done everything she told you to do. She’s doing her outfit change when you get there.

“Why?” You don’t have to elaborate because she knows exactly what you mean. Why tell people you’re a changeling? You’ve tried to so hard to keep it a secret and within a week Stella has managed to ruin that for you.

“Because you needed a lesson. I told you to make him go on a date with me, not help him save Silva so that he’d fall even more in love with you.” She doesn’t even look at you but continues getting ready. It takes everything in you not rip her dress to shreds just for the sake of it.

“Is this what this is about? I helped save the one person that means more than anything to Sky?” you ask exasperated. How her mind works is being anything you’d ever understand but now that it’s out that you’re a changeling you can’t help but wonder if it’ll be so bad if they find out the rest.

“You should’ve told me. I could’ve gone with him.” You tell yourself that you’re not a violent person and that you won’t hit her, but she’s making it incredibly hard. That’s when it hits you that if the entire school knows then it’s only a matter of time before Sky finds out too. Will it change how he feels about you? Maybe he’ll shy away from you like the rest of them opting for pointing and whispering instead.

“You’re absolutely mental,” you say baffled by her calm demeanour. Has she completely lost it?

“No. I’m just willing to do what it takes to get what I want.”

“He’s not a clearance sale, he’s a human being. Maybe he should get to decide himself,” you argue not caring about the fact that she’s still keeping part of your secret at this point.

“I know what Sky needs. He’ll know soon enough himself,” she says finishing up with a little extra blush to touch up her makeup.

“I told people you were a changeling but I didn’t tell them who your parents turned out to be. There’s still the option to keep that between the two of us if you just stay in your lane.” One of these days, you’re going to smack that smile off her face but today you keep quiet. You’re not ready for everyone to know the truth. Especially not when you have no clue how Sky has taken this news. Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to tell him.

“I’ll stay out of your way,” you mutter going straight for your room. The few people you pass on your way make sure to stay well out of your way fear evident in their eyes. Right this instance, you don’t mind it all that much. It makes it easier to get to your room. You decide to hide out in your room for the day and eventually, you fall asleep despite having refused to go down to get some food. It’s the knock on the door at 2am that wakes you up. For a second, you think you must’ve dreamt it but then you hear it again.

“What are you doing here?” you ask seeing Sky standing outside in the hallway. He doesn’t say a word but instead grabs hold of you and kisses you. An audible gasp leaves your lips and while you know that you should stop him, you just don’t have the strength. The truth is that you want him so badly, you can hardly exist within the feeling. Being apart from him has only made that worse.

“I did what you asked. I went on a date with her and all I could think was that it should be you.” He kisses you again never letting you catch your breath. You’re standing half out in the hallway doing the one thing that would Stella drop the final bomb.

“Can I come in?” he asks and you have a momentarily brain bleed and nod. He closes the door behind him giving you the sense of privacy though the thought of Stella finding the two of you stays present in your mind.

“Did you hear the news?” you ask cautiously thinking there’s no way he hasn’t. The entire school knows you’re a changeling.

“I heard. Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes show no judgement, no fear of what you are and once again you can’t help but wonder if it would be so wrong if he knew the whole truth.

“I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to think worse of me,” you explain knowing your argument is weak but the shame is what keeps you from telling him about your parents. You’re not ready to face that truth yourself. All these years, you’ve done nothing but hide from the truth and the fear of becoming like them.

“You had no control over it. Is this why you ended things with me? Because I don’t care that you’re a changeling.” His eyes soften reaching out to touch you and you let him. Apparently, self-control is not something you have tonight.

“I ended things because I didn’t like you like that, Sky. I already told you.” You can’t even convince yourself that you’re telling the truth. He gently lets his fingers glide up your arm causing goose bumps where they touch you.

“If you don’t care for me, why do we keep finding each other?” he asks quietly and you don’t have an answer. Even with you trying to stay away from him, it seems like some invisible force keeps pulling you towards each other.

“It’s wrong, Sky. We don’t fit.” You pull away but he’s not ready to give you up just yet.

“It can’t be wrong when being with you feels so goddamn right.” And maybe you’re just tired of fighting yourself or maybe it’s because he’s looking better than ever in the soft glow from the moon but you crawl under the duvet patting on the empty space next to you. He strips down to his underwear making you feel slightly out of breath. His body is something you’ll never ever get tired of looking at. You haven’t forgotten about Stella and her threat but in the dark, everything seems so far away. All you can think about is Sky lying next to you wearing next to nothing. He wraps his arms around you but it’s not enough. You have a feeling you’ll never get enough of Sky.

“I want you,” you whisper feeling his body react instantly. You tell yourself that you’ll confront Stella tomorrow and demand she keeps your secret even if you get back together with Sky. Right now, you get lost in the moment just enjoying being back in Sky’s arms.

#sky x reader #sky blurb #sky imagine #sky gif #sky #winx sky #fate the winx saga #fate the winx club #fate winx club #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate

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hey-its-nonny · 3 years ago

Note

Yay! I was thinking if you could write a Thranduil x Male Reader. The reader is Thranduil’s husband, he’s shy, caring, intelligent and small (I mean compared to Thranduil😂). I just want Thranduil being all sappy and protective of his lovely Angel! Thrandul’s husband is such a cute cinnamon roll🥰 and Thranduil just spoils him so much! His husband wants new clothes? Done. New Jewels? Done. Thranduil loves to pamper his husband, always the best things for his Angel!

Omg! Imagine Gandalf and the others meeting Thranduil’s husband (he’s a motherly figure to Legolas) and just being so in love with him omg. Just some Thranduil being a big softie and protecting his husband! Ahhh so cute

Thanks for your time!

Love it!!!

fluffy one shot coming right up!

this differs a bit from canon, but it’s hilarious so just bear with me.

warnings: Bullying, slightly underweight reader, protective (lowkey scary) Thranduil

~~~~~

You strolled across the bridge, tugging at the hem of the soft, olive green tunic resting around your torso.

You knew they’d find you if you didn’t get to the library soon, so you put a bit of pep in your step. A group of elves claiming to be your friends usually paid you a weekly visit on your way to work.

Most of the time they just made fun of you, so it was easy to brush off; but there were times when they got a punch or two in to really make their point.

Unfortunately, this was one of those special occasions from the looks of it.

The tall, dark haired group of brutish elves steadily followed you, only speeding up when you spared them a glance.

At this point, you were running to the library.

That only fueled their ambitions, though. They chased after you, hellbent on ruining your day.

Then, you made it into the maze of books, finding shelter behind your desk. You looked up to make sure they didn’t hear your breathing, peeking above the surface to check if they were gone.

They weren’t.

Even better, they saw you. With grins more twisted than the labyrinth of books you sat in front of, they slowly approached you.

The closer they got, the further you backed away. Once your back hit the wall, heart racing, you realized there was no way out of this.

Mine of the elves, Belhír, if you remembered correctly, grabbed the collar of your shirt and offered a bone chilling smile, sending shivers down your spine.

Accepting your fate, you closed your eyes and braced yourself for the blows sure to come.

Only thing was, there weren’t any.

You opened your eyes and lo and behold, Thranduil Opherion, your king and frequent visitor, stood in front of you, cooler than an autumn breeze.

You’d only interacted with him a few times, but from what you remembered, he was a decent man. You might have even gone so far as to develop a silly little crush on the king.

“Release him.” The elf demanded, voice smooth, yet somehow sharper than knives.

Belhir immediately let go of you, clearly baffled by the king’s mere presence.

Yet, the king was focused on you. He stared at you, sending blood straight to your cheeks.

Three simple words broke the silence, Thranduil’s gaze never leaving your face.

“Come with me.”

———

Now, you sat beside your husband in the garden, basking in the warm embrace he gave.

”Y/n? Can you hear me?” The elf inquired, pressing a kiss to your forehead to make sure you heard him.

With heated cheeks, you sheepishly smiled, pressing a kiss to your husband’s jaw.

”Sorry, meleth, I was just lost in thought.” You apologized, shivering at the deep chuckle against your neck. In reality, however, you were a bit disappointed.

Today was your anniversary and Thranduil still hadn’t remembered. You decided to drop one more hint, hoping he’d remember the event.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” Thranduil asked, eyes trained on your face just as they were the day everything changed.

“The day we became a family.” You answered, your voice laced with nothing but love for the two boys so deeply intertwined in your life.

Your husband hummed, running his fingers through your hair. “One of the best days of my life.” He replied, standing up and holding his hand out for you to follow, his grin warmer than the sun.

“Come with me.”

You followed him out of the garden you’d grown to love, curious as to where he was taking you. With a bit of patience and some walking, you found yourself standing in front of your shared quarters.

Now you were just confused.

“What are we doing?” You asked, tilting your head to convey your confusion.

Thranduil just smiled. “Get dressed. I have a something for you.”

Still confused, you obliged, slipping in between the doors of your closet.

You had to admit, knowing he didn’t remember hurt your feelings, but it was just a date in time. It was silly to be upset about.

You dressed into a f/c robe, one that Thranduil had given you, and tousled your hair in the mirror before striding out of the room, still clueless as to what was going on.

Thranduil looked stunned when you walked out, eyes wide. Shaking himself from his trance, Thranduil offered his hand.

“You look wonderful, meleth nîn.” Your cheeks flushed while you took the elvenking’s hand.

“Thank you, love.”

Thranduil lead you down the hall, dead silent with an expression more solid than the ground you walked upon.

You realized that you were heading towards the celebration hall. Why were you going there?

Was he throwing a party for some reason?

Oddly enough, you were right.

Thranduil opened the door for you, that wretched, gorgeous smile tainting his lips as your eyes lit up.

Everything was decorated so beautifully.

Flowers and green garlands were strung high everywhere, adding to the natural beauty this kingdom already held.

Upon looking closely, you saw that the flowers Thranduil had chosen to decorate with were the same flowers you’d put up on your wedding day. You couldn’t believe he remembered.

”Happy anniversary, my darling.” A low, beautifully familiar voice stated, accompanied by a hand slipping around your waist.

You grinned, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around Thranduil’s neck, pressing a kiss to his nose.

“You remembered.” You breathed, your goofy grin melting the elvenking’s heart.

Thranduil scoffed. “Of course I did.“ He hummed, smooth voice ringing into the almost completely silent room.

It was just the two of you in there, which made it so much sweeter. While you knew Thranduil loved being the center of attention, you were quite the opposite.

You liked leading a more private life, and Thranduil knew that. Somehow, you loved him even more.

With a nod towards a group of musicians, Thranduil led you out onto the large dance floor, gripping your hand with a smile.

While your cheeks darkened, your smile went in the other direction, brightening with each step Thranduil lead you in.

The music only elevated how you felt, sweet melodies touching your heart while you danced in the arms of the one you called your home.

You wanted to cry a bit, in all honesty, just because of how happy you were, but you refrained from it to keep from confusing Thranduil.

You watched Thranduil’s feet, attempting to remember the dance as best you could. While you were focused on getting the steps right, Thranduil was merely admiring how perfect you were to him.

You were sweet, caring, intelligent beyond comparison, handsome, strong in the sense of willpower (he was actually very concerned when he first saw you.), and to put it simply, everything Thranduil needed.

You were everything he wanted, too.

Thranduil watched you dance, madly in love with the way you tried so hard. While he would never speak to anyone else this way, Thranduil opened his mouth and spoke with a honeyed tone.

”My love, it’s just us. Do not worry about formalities.” He reminded, finding that this was one of the first times he’d spoken this gently since his first love left him.

Then, he realized how lucky he was to have you.

As if you knew what was running through his mind, you smiled up at him, slowing the dance to kiss him.

It was sweet, affectionate, and conveyed the love you both shared for each other.

Once you pulled away, you grinned, wrapping your arms around Thranduil’s neck, falling into a slow sway as the music followed.

”I love you.” You breathed, cheeks so red, you had to avert your gaze to the floor.

You couldn’t see it, but Thranduil was genuinely smiling at you, admiring how phenomenal you were.

“And I love you.” He replied, tone smooth and loving.

After plenty of dancing, you both grew tired and decided to call it a day.

You both changed out of your formal wear, settling in under the covers of your shared bed with content.

You laid on your side, Thranduil behind you as the day came to a close.

”Goodnight, Ithildin nîn.” Thranduil hummed, wrapping an arm around your waist with a kiss to the nape of your neck.

You shivered, placing your hand over Thranduil’s. “Goodnight, meleth. Thank you.”

Upon seeing the way your body reacted to it, Thranduil kissed the nape of your neck again just to tease.

“For what?”

You shivered again, playfully smacking his hand.

“A wonderful life.”

~~~~ Thranduil’s ooc bc in this one he’s not heartbroken and angsty all the time :)

ANYWAYS

here’s my tag list:

@eru-vande @thewhiteladyofrohan @from-patroclus-with-love @elvish-sky@entishramblings

thank you for reading!! <3

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