#i needed to let it marinate for me to fully get my thoughts together

[mushiewrites]

Wake up brain is back with more lee!Punz! :D

So I had this image, of (cc!s btw) Sam sitting on Punz’s hips, pinning his hands with his knees, and pressing the left side of his face into the carpet. Sam has one of Sylvee's softest make up brushes and is having the time of his life using it all over Punz's ears, jawline and face. Feeling him kick behind him, watching his nose scrunch when he'd target his nose. He'd occasionally grab his jaw and turn him to the other side so they got equal treatment, if Punz managed to shake his head out of Sam's grip he'd let out a surprised and 'offended' gasp and he'd snatch one of his flailing legs, pulling it so when he leaned back it was slightly infront of him, and ruthlessly attacking his knees, both over and under, yelling of his "tortured screams" to put his head back where he had it. And as punishment he'd go back to his ears and add his tickly scalp and make him say things like "Say 'Sam, I want you to tickle my *spot name*" or "Say I'm the best tickler and I'm your favorite, say it nice and loud so Sapnap and Dream hear you"

my bb punz!!!!!! n while I'm not super familiar with Sam, he is such a big sweetheart from what I've seen from him....

that being said i also saw his tweet about how bad and george had to use both hands to fit around his biceps so........,,,,,,., 🫠

this position is top tier normally but with the addition of sam holding Punz's head against the carpet, keeping it from moving so he just has to endure all the tks sam wants to dish out, it makes it that much more flustering

the makeup brushes idea on punz's face is so evil, i feel like he's really sensitive to light tks and this would absolutely destroy him. i think punz has a sensitive jawline, and i honestly think it's stubble would help the makeup brush do its job of tkling him silly. and the nose scrunching?!?!?! bc he's getting tkled on his tkly lil tklish nose!!! and pushing his head the opposite way to give his opposite ear the same treatment!!

but when punz shakes his head away from sam he does this huuuuuuge gasp, acting so offended and stunned at the idea of punz trying to escape the tks!! so he starts to get ruthless, he goes to his knees, a very known death spot for punz, and he's just howling. wailing. crying out any protests and pleads he can think of. and when sam hears that, he just chuckles and continues to tk him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

he could pull out one of those headscratchers and use it on punz's scalp! who knows where he'd get it from, but it could happen AND punz would be so weak to it!!

and oh my gosh the teases 🫠 not only is being made to say those things incredibly flustering and embarrassing, but to have those people in earshot?!?!?! i cannot imagine rip punz u will be missed 😵‍💫

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Picnic Date | n.r. x w.m

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Natasha has a penis, beefy Nat, outdoor sex, blow job, fingering

Word count: 2,296

Summary: After being on back to back missions for weeks, Natasha decided to have a little picnic with her girlfriend.

A/N: I know it's just supposed to be a drabble request but...yeah. ✌️

╰┈➤ Masterlist

Natasha had become utterly drained from a relentless string of missions that she's being sent to and was desperate for some rest. Wanda, witnessing Natasha's exhaustion, did her best to comfort her every time she returned home for a brief mission break. However , Wanda was getting impatient because she missed spending time with her love. It had been two whole months without any intimate moments, and it was making her very upset.

Summer had come to New York, and Natasha finally got the break she deserved. She had a whole month off, and she planned to use it to be with her magical girlfriend. So, she thought it would be nice to have a picnic date to relax to welcome the season and spend time together.

Truth be told, Natasha was acutely aware of Wanda's pent-up desires. It became abundantly clear when Wanda practically pounced on her the moment she stepped out from the quinjet, their lips meeting in a fierce and passionate kiss. Natasha welcomed the fiery embrace, but she also realised that Wanda's desires were on the brink of overwhelming her. Wanda's hands roamed freely, and Natasha found herself struggling to calm the eager witch.

"Detka, relax. I'm back now, alright? I'm not going anywhere," Natasha reassured Wanda, wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

"You've been away for so long. I've been missing you so badly, baby," Wanda whispered, her eyes filled with longing.

"I understand, detka," Natasha said, gently stroking Wanda's hair. "But can I at least take a quick shower and get some sleep? I promise I'll make it up to you."

Wanda pouted but nodded in agreement, understanding that the spy needed some time to decompress and rest. She knew their moments together would come, and she eagerly awaited the time when Natasha would be all hers once again. But damn her hormones. She was already vibrating with need since Natasha left a clear instruction to not touch herself.

Natasha had returned home three days ago, and Wanda is still untouched. The witch found herself in a constant battle to keep her desires at bay, and the wait was becoming maddeningly frustrating.

Wanda was even perplexed when Natasha suggested they go on a picnic date. Wanda couldn't help but wonder why her lover, who had been away for so long, would choose a picnic over a lazy afternoon where they can have sex all day long.

"Natasha! I don't want to go on a picnic date. I want to be be fucked. That's it."

Expecting this reaction from Wanda, Natasha let out a sigh and gently touched her girlfriend's cheek. "Hey, I made a promise that I'll make it up to you," she began, her voice filled with sincerity. "But can we just enjoy this beautiful new season together? Besides, I've been stuck in Siberia for a whole week, freezing to death, and right now, I need some warmth in my body."

Wanda couldn't resist a playful grin at Natasha's words. "Oh, I can warm you up very nicely, you know," she teased.

Natasha chuckled, her eyes dancing with a mixture of desire and amusement. "I'm fully aware of that," she replied with a wink. "Now, do me a favor, and wear that cute dress I got for you in Italy. I'll start preparing our food for this afternoon."

With a gentle kiss on Wanda's forehead, Natasha left their room and made her way to the kitchen. She was determined to create a memorable picnic experience for them. She began by frying marinated chicken breasts, ensuring she got her much-needed protein after her time in Siberia. Meanwhile, she checked on the blueberry cheesecake she had prepared the night before. The sight of the luscious dessert made her anticipate the picnic even more, knowing that their meal would be both delicious and delightful.

Natasha had meticulously packed a selection of chocolates, knowing that Wanda had an undeniable sweet tooth. She also included a few of Wanda's favorite snacks. Natasha had taken the time to ensure that their drinks were just right. There was a bottle of red wine for Wanda, her indulgence of choice, and a carbonated drink for herself. Natasha knew that a glass or two of wine had the power to unleash Wanda's playful and mischievous side. She had every intention of pushing Wanda to her limits during their date, teasing her until she's feeling too desperate. In reality, this seemingly innocent picnic date was just a cover for what she had planned.

Hand in hand, the two of them ventured into the woods of the compound, following a secluded trail that would lead them to their secret spot. Natasha had made sure that no prying eyes could spot them, as she had something rather scandalous in mind.

Once they reached their chosen location, Wanda set up the blanket and eagerly unloaded the contents of the basket Natasha had brought. She couldn't help but admit that this date was turning out to be much better than expected. Seeing Natasha so relaxed and laid-back was a rare and delightful sight.

Natasha found a comfortable spot with her back resting against the sturdy tree trunk, the rough bark serving as a natural support. She extended her legs, creating a welcoming space where Wanda lay down.

They shared stories of what they did when they were not together, occasionally stealing bites from each other's food.

Natasha's fingers are gently toying with the strands of Wanda's hair. With a playful curiosity in her voice, she inquired, "How come your hair color is now almost blonde?"

Wanda couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. "Sam was so bored one evening and decided it would be a fantastic idea to dye my hair. Vision was there to supervise the whole thing. It turned out to be so damn funny."

"It looks good on you, baby. You're so gorgeous."

Then suddenly, Natasha's hands groped Wanda's boobs since the dress was showing off her bouncy cleavage and could not resist anymore.

"Sweetheart, you look so good in this dress. Your tits looks delicious as fuck. I can bury my face in there all day. You are not even wearing a bra. What a bad girl, you are."

"Natasha, you have been teasing me for too long." Wanda whimpers every time the redhead pinches her nipples.

"I know you love it when I tease you like this. I bet you are already wet for me," Natasha continued kneading Wanda tits while playing with her nipples which are now fully exposed. Natasha leaned down to plant kisses on Wanda's shoulder blade and the right side of her neck, leaving a few hickeys behind.

"Baby, sit on my lap. I want to see you."

Wanda obeyed Natasha's wish and the spy already had her palm up, ready to cup the witch's throbbing center.

"My, my. You are not also wearing your panties," Natasha groaned when she felt that Wanda was already dripping wet and circled the sensitive clit. "Were you expecting this to happen, huh?"

"Natasha! Please. Stop torturing me like this." Wanda leaned down and kissed Natasha desperately, her moans being swallowed by the kiss.

"I will fuck you good, Wanda." And the witch screamed when she felt two fingers enter her with no warning.

"Oh my god, Natasha! That feels good baby, keep going."

"Quiet down for me, princess. You don't want the others to hear like this? Or would you like to let them see how desperate you are for me? Riding my fingers like it's your damn job."

"No no no. Only you can see me like this. Ah!"

Natasha's curled fingers are going in and out harshly, hitting Wanda's g-spot perfectly. "You're so good for me like this, Wanda." She added another finger and Wanda's moans are getting louder at each thrust of her fingers.

"Love, fuck. I'm going to cum. Please let me cum!"

"Cum anytime you want, baby." With that, Wanda's orgasm flooded her senses at a rate which was too overwhelming and made her body collapse atop Natasha.

"I've got you. I'm here, baby. Deep breaths for me."

It took a minute for Wanda's erratic heart to calm down. She finally had her release that she's been craving for months. "I love you, Natty."

"You always say that everytime I make you cum." Natasha smirks at Wanda's blissful face. They made out for a while and Wanda noticed the bulge on Natasha's crotch.

"Let me take care of this now, baby. Please?"

Wanda decided to unravel the layers of Natasha's upper clothes. She reached for the zipper of Natasha's leather jacket, tugging it down with deliberate slowness, revealing a black tank top underneath. Natasha's breath hitched, her eyes locked onto Wanda's.With the jacket now partially open, Wanda slipped her hands inside, running her palms along Natasha's biceps. Each touch was filled with tenderness and desire, making Natasha's heart race. The jacket slid off Natasha's shoulders.

"Put your mouth on me, Princess."

Wanda changed her position and was kneeling sideways. She carefully pulled down Natasha's pants and her hard cock sprung out proudly. The spy reached Wanda's exposed ass and gave a good slap on her buttcheck.

"Suck me off now, detka. Go on."

Wanda almost rolled her eyes at Natasha's impatience but just simply leaned down to take the whole length in her mouth. Her mouth feels so warm and Natasha gathered Wanda's hair in her hands

"That's good, baby. Nice and slow for me."

Wanda continued sucking Natasha's length but was suddenly stopped by the spy. "Ride me, baby. Reverse cowgirl, yes?"

This position is one of Wanda's favorite. She can already anticipate how Natasha is going to fill her up from behind. She trusts that Natasha will be able to hold her weight since her girlfriend has muscles for days. The stretch in her walls was so satisfying as she sank down. "Oh god, love. You feel so good inside me."

"Uh-huh. You've been a good girl for me, Wanda. It's time for me to properly fuck you. Lean back."

Wanda did as she's told and Natasha planted her feet on the ground to stabilise herself and gripped on Wanda's hips.

"Natasha, please move."

"As you wish, Princess."

The redhead started her thrust slowly, feeling how Wanda's heated core is clenching on her cock. The tightness of her pussy is so addicting. Hearing her girlfriend moaning her name pushed her to pound from below.

"Yes! Right there, right there! Please don't stop!"

"I miss this pussy so much. You're all I think about whenever I'm away." Natasha reached down and played with Wanda's clit. Wanda whined even more for the added sensation.

"Natasha, baby. I want to see your face. Please."

They changed their position again and now, Wanda is laying down on the blanket and Natasha on top of her. Wanda immediately wrapped her legs around Natasha's waist.

The spy didn't waste anymore seconds and penetrated Wanda with so much force. "Baby, you're so tight. Jesus, I'm not going to last long."

"I'm close. I'm close! Please go faster!" Wanda clawed Natasha's arms as the older woman pounded her from above.

"Ahhh shit! Wanda, Wanda!" Natasha pulled out after a while and felt proud of herself when she saw how Wanda's pussy was oozing with her cum.

"Look at that, I gave you a creampie. Don't move, I'll take a photo of this." The spy held Wanda's legs up so her seeds won't spill out and took a photo of Wanda's abused hole.

"You're so bad, Natasha."

"You enjoy it when I'm being bad," Natasha whispered, her fingers deftly adjusting Wanda's dress and Natasha put on her pants as well. "Come here."

Leaning against the sturdy tree, Natasha motioned for Wanda to settle into her lap.

"I feel so happy when you're home," Wanda confessed, her gaze soft as she gently held Natasha's face. "I wish you didn't have to leave. Every time you go on a mission, it feels like my heart's being torn in two."

"I hate being apart from you, my love," Natasha replied, her voice tinged with sincerity. "But you know I can't refuse the missions they assign me."

Wanda nodded, her eyes clouded with concern. "I understand that, but I can't help but worry. I'm afraid something might happen to you out there."

Natasha's heart ached at Wanda's genuine concern, knowing that every mission brought a new set of risks.

"Hey, I have a little something for you," the spy's voice held a hint of excitement as she retrieved a ring from her pocket, presenting it to Wanda. "I snagged this while I was chasing my target in the bustling streets of Hungary. I had to duck into an alley to avoid pursuit, and there was this street vendor selling jewelries. This ring, it just reminded me of you, and I can't even remember how much I handed the vendor, I was in such a rush."

"Natasha! You really can't resist, can you? Buying me a ring while you're in the middle of chasing a target," Wanda exclaimed, affectionately slapping Natasha's arm.

Natasha grinned, undeterred. "It's worth it, my love." Carefully, she slid the ring onto Wanda's right hand. "See? It fits you perfectly."

Wanda examined the ring closely, her eyes lighting up. "It's beautiful."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a lump in her throat. Her heart swelled with love for the woman beside her. "You're too sweet for me," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude and affection.

Natasha leaned in, brushing a strand of Wanda's hair away from her face. Their eyes locked in an intimate connection. "Only for you, detka. I love you."

"What do you think about round 2?" Wanda suggested wickedly.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm going to ruin you."

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Seventeen

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The sunset is a deep, fiery red, casting an eerie glow over the ocean waves. You had been looking forward to watching it with Shanks, but instead, you are sulking alone in your quarters. All because of the Marine politics that had caused The Red Force to slip away from the marine ship. You don't fully understand what that means, but it doesn't matter. It is Shanks' business, and you don't want to pry.

Still, you can't help feeling a bit disappointed. Your date had been interrupted, and you didn't get to enjoy the sunset with Shanks to the full extent. And now, you hold a grudge against Collins for ruining your plans. The man just can't take a hint and leave you alone, can he? But you refuse to let him ruin your evening completely. You won't give him that satisfaction. So, you try to shake off your bad mood and focus on the beauty of the sunset, even if you are alone. After all, it is still a magnificent sight.

Moving to stand in front of the windows overlooking the wake of the ship, you grasp your elbows and let out a sigh. An evening almost ruined. But not completely. Your day is still a blissful memory within your mind. Had the night gone as you planned, you and Shanks would be sharing a serendipitous moment on the deck, watching the sky turn to shades of orange and purple. Now you are filled with anger and frustration.

“Someone always has to ruin something in my life,” you grumble to yourself, eyes tracing the curving ray of pink bleeding into a dark magenta. Lost in tumultuous thoughts, you are jarred when a knock on the door to the cabin breaks the silence.

“Aria? May I come in?” It is Shanks.

“It’s your cabin,” you call back, dropping your arms to your sides. Shanks eases into the cabin, shutting the door behind him and taking in your posture and facial features. It is quite clear that you are still quite irate.

"Look," Shanks starts, walking over to you with a gentle gaze. "I know you're angry right now, but I don't want this incident to ruin our evening together."

"But that dickhead—" Shanks' fingers press firmly against your lips.

"Whoever has been teaching you those words is in for a conversation,” he says, his tone laced with amusement. “Who was it?”

Oh? He thinks you are going to be a rat? Ha! He’ll never make you talk. You lift your chin in obstinate defiance.

"A lady does not kiss and tell, Captain. Try another topic if you wish for conversation,” you reply flippantly, turning your gaze away from his hypnotizing eyes. Shanks snorts softly at your petulance.

“Very well, you may listen to my apology instead.” Apology? What does he have to apologize for? You twist your head to look at Shanks in puzzlement.

“Pray tell what do you have to apologize for? It’s not like you are the one that interrupted our date,” you nearly snort.

“I may be a pirate, but I am not a scoundrel,” Shanks corrects, making sure to hold eye contact. “I kissed you without your permission…”

He does not expect you to roll your eyes at his attempt to apologize for not giving you a choice, an action he and the other men make sure to enforce.

“You hardly need to apologize for that,” you reply dismissively. Shanks thinks otherwise and goes to protest.

“Aria,” Shanks speaks in exasperation. By the old gods, you are so stubborn at times!

"Apology not accepted," you declare firmly, crossing your arms over your chest.

"But still, it was wrong of me to kiss you without asking first," he persists, his expression serious now. "I should have respected your boundaries. Certainly after—"

You let out an exasperated sigh as he continues to apologize, muttering your frustration with the phrase "Oh for the love of the All Blue." You unfold your arms and reach up to cup his face in your hands. In a surprising burst of boldness, you pull him down to press your lips against his in a determined kiss. You like kissing Shanks. His soft, warm lips are comforting and far from harsh or unwanted. And the way he makes your lips tingle is simply delightful. But just as quickly as it begins, you pull away with a smug smirk on your face. "Now we're even," you declare confidently. Shanks stares down at you in partial shock and wonder. “Your argument is no longer valid, Captain.”

For once in his life, Shanks is speechless and no quick-witted words come to the tip of his tongue to tease you back. Rather, his mind is captured by the taste and feeling of your lips. Your beautiful and sweet lips that are curved in such a triumphant smile that would have him on his knees in an instant should they call for it.

In the silence that follows your retaliating kiss, a dangerous glint appears in Shanks' eyes. Without a word, his fingers dive into your hair, and he closes the space between your lips once more. Lips pressing together urgently, your eyes close instantly. His kiss is passionate and demanding, sending a surge of electricity through your veins. Gods, how you love his kisses, love him. Your entire body aches to be touched by his love and adoration. To be embraced. So the fingers of one hand burrow in his hair while you push the others over his shoulder and press yourself against his chest.

Lost in the intoxicating sensation of Shanks' kiss, you melt against him, every nerve ending on fire with desire. His touch is like a flame that consumes you, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. The world around you seems to fade away as the only thing that matters is the connection between your lips, the passion that ignites between you.

As the kiss deepens, the heat of his body sears through your clothes, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your heart races in your chest, matching the rhythm of his own heartbeat as if they beat as one. When you finally break apart, gasping for air, his eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity that makes your knees weak. The raw emotion shining in his gaze is enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Without a word, his arm leaves your hair and slips around your waist. Your faces remain only finger widths apart as he maneuvers your body in a circle to sit on the edge of his bed. As you sit on his lap, your hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. His touch is both tender and possessive, a silent promise of protection and desire. Your hands slowly crawl up his white tunic, you cradle his jaw, and you can’t help but run your thumb along the strong line of his jaw, feeling the subtle stubble beneath your touch.

“Have I made it clear that I desire you?” you question him, your fingers wandering his jaw until you direct them back down his neck and to the open neckline of his tunic. “Or is the blood running through my veins too pure?”

Shanks lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle at your words. His one arm tightens around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “Oh, the desire is mutual, treasure,” he murmurs huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes is enough to make your heart race even faster, the anticipation building between you like a crackling flame about to combust. “And as for purity,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your buzzing ones, “I assure you, Aria, there is nothing pure about the thoughts you inspire within me.”

Shanks' words send a thrill down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume all reason. His touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingers nipping and tugging at the zipper of your dress. Without breaking eye contact, Shanks leans in to capture your lips once more, his kiss a mixture of hunger and tenderness that leaves you dizzy with longing. As his fingers effortlessly pull on your dress’s zipper, his knuckles incite a fiery sensation on your back that makes you squirm.

The sleeves of your dress fall slack off your shoulders, pooling at your waist as Shanks' touch trails along your exposed skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His fingertips dance lightly over the curve of your spine, sending shivers of delight through your body.

Your breath hitches as his lips leave yours, trailing a path of soft kisses down your jawline and to the sensitive skin of your neck. You struggle to keep your eyes open as each touch feels like a jolt of electricity, making you arch into him, craving more of his intoxicating presence.

His hot breath tickles your skin as he whispers, "You have bewitched me, Aria. Your beauty ensnares me, and I am utterly captivated by you." His words drip with sincerity, each syllable weaving a spell around your heart.

“The feeling is mutual, Captain,” you breathe against his lips, feeling a surge of desire flooding through you. Shanks' eyes darken with a primal hunger as he gazes at you, the intensity of his stare almost palpable in the dimly lit room. “Now, if you would be so kind as to remove my brassiere? My hands are otherwise occupied.”

As you make that statement, you make a point to worm your fingers beneath his tunic and caress the muscles you can feel. His fingers deftly unhook your brassiere, letting it fall away from your body. The fabric tickles your senses as it slides down your arms, leaving you the most exposed you have ever been.

Shanks' eyes roam your body, drinking in the sight of you with pure hunger. He leans in to kiss your neck once more, his lips tracing a fiery path down your collarbone. He knows that if he just blatantly stares at your breasts like any other man, you wouldn't be happy with him. So he takes to pressing his lips against your flesh and nibbling in places that make you squirm in his lap.

Shanks' lips finally reach your breasts, and your breath hitches when he nuzzles and adores their softness. His mouth is delicate yet insistent, causing your heart to race as he flicks his tongue along the curve of your breast. A soft gasp escapes your lips when his tongue wanders over your nipple, and one of your hands finds its way into his hair.

"I've been wanting to do this since I first caught sight of you this morning," Shanks murmurs against your neck, his warm breath making your entire body tremble in delight. "But if you don't remove that dress from your body, madam, I'll have no choice but to cut it from you."

"You wouldn't dare," you almost growl, giving him a stern look. "I happen to very much love this dress, Captain."

"Then I suggest relieving yourself of it," he replies with a mischievous glint in his eye. His fingers trace a tantalizing path down your spine that makes you shiver in his grasp.

"Very well," you purr, brushing your lips against his one last time before standing up from your perch on his lap. As you stand in front of him, your unzipped, loose dress flutters in a circle at your feet, leaving you standing in front of him clad only in your underwear. You've never been self-conscious of your body, not with your nannies and maids dressing and undressing you since birth… but standing in front of Shanks, this exposed, leaves you nervous.

Shanks doesn't speak while his eyes drink in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over every part of your exposed body. "You are even more stunning than I imagined," he finally whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. Heat burns its way up your neck. "But madam, you are still quite overdressed."

His words wipe away your insecurity, and your eyes narrow.

"People have been dressing and undressing me my whole life, why stop now?" you challenge, your chin lifting as an impish look glimmers in your eyes and you cross your arms beneath your breasts in a childish manner. You grace Shanks with a glorious view of your pushed-up breasts. "If you want me fully naked, do it yourself."

"As the madam demands," he returns, his arm reaching out to your body. As Shanks pulls you towards him, you can feel the heat radiating off him, his presence both comforting and electrifying. His eyes lock onto yours, a fierce intensity burning within them as his fingers tiptoe across your skin to the band of your underwear. Then his fingers hook the material and drag your underwear down.

The fabric whispers against your skin as it slides down your hips and legs. Even when it falls past your knees, his gaze doesn't falter from your eyes, confident and reassuring. Your underwear finally drops to the floor of the cabin, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

His eyes drift across your skin, taking in every curve and imperfection with an intensity that makes your heart race. You can tell that he is in awe of your beauty, and that truth fills you with happiness. Shanks continues to stare at you, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin, causing you to shudder.

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand moves up your thigh, his touch feather-light but electric. Never before have you had a man's touch this close to your intimate flesh, which throbs in tune. You want his touch to soothe that squirming ache. Your eyes flutter closed when Shanks' fingers find your inner thigh, the tender flesh shivering beneath his touch.

“Treasure,” Shanks whispers, his voice barely audible above the sound of your own rapid breathing. The red-haired pirate indulges his fingers a few more moments on your soft skin. "You are exquisite."

A raw moan departs your lips, and your body arches instinctively towards him, seeking more of the intoxicating sensation. You reach for his shoulders and place your hands there, needing some semblance of grounding. He hasn't really even touched you yet, and your body is trembling! Shanks' lips curve into a knowing smile, his breath warm against your ear as he continues his slow, deliberate exploration.

"Tell me what you want," he murmurs, his voice a seductive caress that sends shivers down your spine. Your eyes snap open and meet his, the intensity in his gaze leaving you breathless.

There is no hesitation in your response, no uncertainty in your desire. "I want you, Shanks," you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. "Please."

Shanks' eyes darken with desire, his hand sliding up your leg to cup your cunt. Your neck and cheeks flood with heat at his intimate touch, and you bite down on a moan when his fingers caress your sensitive flesh. The heat between your legs intensifies, a throbbing ache that begs for more of his attention. When he slides his middle finger through your folds, making sure to stroke your clit, your nails sink into his shoulders.

Your body reacts instinctively to his touch, your hips arching towards his hand as he continues to explore your slick folds. The sensation is electrifying, a mix of pleasure and anticipation that leaves you trembling beneath him. Shanks' eyes never leave yours, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and desire that makes your heart race even faster.

"You're so responsive," he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "It's beautiful."

He continues to tease your clit, his touch both gentle and insistent, driving you to the brink of madness. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, your body desperate for more. Shanks seems to sense your need, his movements becoming more deliberate as he prepares you for what is to come.

With a careful, almost reverent touch, he slides his middle finger inside you, pausing to let you adjust to the sensation. You wince slightly at the unfamiliar intrusion, but the discomfort is quickly overshadowed by the pleasure of his touch. He moves slowly, his finger exploring your inner walls with a tenderness that leaves you breathless.

"Relax, treasure,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll be gentle."

He begins to move his finger in and out of you, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moan softly, your hips moving in time with his hand, seeking more of the exquisite sensation. Shanks' thumb finds your clit again, his touch adding another layer of pleasure that makes you gasp.

As he adds a second finger, the sensation of fullness is both intense and thrilling. Your body tenses for a moment, but Shanks' soothing words and gentle touch help you relax. He moves with practiced ease, his fingers curling inside you to brush against a spot that makes your vision blur with pleasure.

"Shanks," you gasp, your voice trembling almost as bad as your legs. "I need you. Not your teasing!"

His lips find yours in a hungry kiss, his fingers never faltering as he brings you closer to the edge. "Not yet," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a seductive growl. You let out a noise of frustration. "I want to make you feel everything."

He increases the pace of his movements, his fingers working you with a skill that leaves you breathless. The tension in your body builds steadily, each stroke bringing you closer to the brink. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, your body trembling with the need for release.

With one final, skilled twist of his fingers, Shanks pushes you over the edge, and you cry out his name as the orgasm crashes over you. Wave after wave of pleasure washes through your body, leaving you trembling and barely able to stand, relying on Shanks to keep you upright.

You still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm, quivering through your body like tiny lightning bolts. Your romance novels greatly underrepresented how wonderful it is to be touched so intimately. Shanks holds you close, his strong arms wrapping around you protectively. He kisses the top of your head tenderly, his fingers gently stroking your hair. "Are you okay, love?" he murmurs, his voice filled with concern.

You nod, still struggling to find your voice. The intimacy of the moment leaves you feeling both vulnerable and cherished, and you can't help but marvel at the depth of emotion Shanks is able to evoke with just a few simple touches. You are also fuming that you are the only one naked! You want your turn to explore his body, to appreciate him with the intimacy you had only dreamed of in your fantasies.

Determined to even the playing field, you take a deep breath and muster the energy. "Shanks," you say softly, your voice still a bit shaky from the intensity of your orgasm, "it is not fair that I am the only one undressed. I want to see you too. I want to touch you."

His eyes sparkle, and a playful smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. "Is that so?" he teases gently, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your back.

You nod, your resolve firm. "Yes. Very much so, captain."

Date Published: 6/10/24

Last Edit: 6/3/24

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[popcrone818]

How Could You Know-Part Three

Part Three   Series Masterlist     Main Masterlist 

Warning; Mentions of death and overdose 

Callie P.O.V

  Camille and I made our way back home after grabbing tacos.

“So, was that Luke I saw back at the bar?” she asked me as she handed me my taco and a drink.

“Yes, it was Luke. He's a Marine now, with Frankie. He looks better now too.”

“Yeah, he looks good.” We both lent back in our chairs on the balcony as I watched the waves crash to shore. I silently chewed on my taco as I thought over tonight’s events. I hadn’t ever planned on seeing Luke again. But here I was thinking about him like we hadn’t both gotten sober. Like our pasts had never gotten as bad as they were. “You should reach out to him, if he's sober, try to reconnect. You guys had a great friendship once, see if that’s still there.” Camille had her eyes closed as she spoke. I hummed in agreeance and looked back out at the waves. “I get it, you don’t want to talk about him.”

“Don’t want to talk about him? Everything went to shit when I knew him. And then to top it all off I had to go and fucking fall in love with him.” she looked at me sideways before she turned fully towards me. “The whole time I was with Johno all I wanted was to be with Luke. Doing drugs together was euphoric, I felt a high around him I had never felt before. Tonight, when I was having the panic attack, he brought me out of it. But I could see the fear in his eyes. He remembered when he found me passed out in Johno’s bathroom. Johno nowhere to be found, he stayed with me that night, then he just disappeared. I haven’t spoken to him or seen him for two years Cami, I can’t do it again. I'm scared I'm going to relapse. I can’t go back there.” My hands started to shake, she reached over to take them in her own shaking ones.

“You will get through this. We will get through this, together. We are all we have in this world now. I'm not going to let you go back there, I won’t let you go near Johno again and I won’t push you to go anywhere near Luke if you don’t want to.” I nodded at her as she squeezed my hands gently. “Do you want to watch movies?”

“No, I think I'm going to get some sleep, I'm exhausted after my panic attack. Raincheck?” She nodded, and I got up from my seat and took my rubbish with me.

I made it into bed with thoughts swimming through my mind, even though I was exhausted my mind wouldn’t shut off. I had been out for less than 24 hours and already my life felt like it was going off the deep end. The most terrifying thought I had was what was Johno going to do once he found out I was out now? I couldn’t go back down the path that led me to rehab, I was clean and sober now. And it terrified me that all of that could change in an instant if I let my guard down.

The next morning I woke up to Camille knocking on my bedroom door before she popped her head in.

“You have a visitor.” She sang quietly. “Its Frankie.”

I groaned but got out of bed, I didn’t bother changing and walked out to see Frankie in the living room.

“My parents are throwing me a going away party. Do you think you could make it?” I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my body against his.

“Of course I’ll be there, how could I say no to my best friend?” he pulled me in tighter.

“You get to finally meet Riley, oh this is going to be so good. But I got to go I’ll see you later?” I nodded to him and walked him back out to his car. I really need to get myself a new phone.

Camille had made us breakfast and we sat in silence for a little while.

“Cami, do you think we could get me a new phone today, my old one broke while I was gone and I don’t want everyone to have to come here to talk to me.”

“Yes of course, why didn’t I think of that before. Lets get ready then well go shopping, well have a girly day before you have to head off to Frankie’s party later.” We raced each other to get ready and I beat her as I sat and waited on the sofa in the living room.

Our first stop was the Apple store, where Camille picked up the new iPhone 13 pro max for me and paid for it while I tried to fight her telling her I didn’t need one of the newest ones. I thanked her profusely as she dragged me to a nail salon. The rest of the morning was spent having some much-needed sister time.

“Oh shoot, can you drop me off at Frankie’s?” I asked Camille when I looked at the time as we stuffed our faces with loaded fries. She also looked at the time and took a quick sip of her soda before she nodded. We collected our bags and took off in search for her car.

 I knocked on Frankie’s door as Camille pulled out of his driveway waving to me.

“The government that made my mom pay taxes for ten years, before giving her the right to vote? That government?” I could hear Cassie talking and so I just made my way inside the house. The door was unlocked, and when I stepped inside I saw Cassie stepping closer to Luke and Frankie sitting at the kitchen bench, which amused at the two currently having an argument.

“so your mom was living here illegally then?” Luke had his arms crossed as his feet shoulder width apart, something new I had noticed about him, but maybe Cassie just brought out his tough guy law abiding citizen look. Frankie saw me and nodded at me while they fought. I stayed in the living room and watched on.

“don’t tell me you’re a resident of southern California that does not see how this state was built off the backs of illegal immigrants. Like my mom who crossed that border, lived here for ten years, worked their asses off for ten years, paying taxes for your government, and were treated like less than citizens. Yeah, I will proudly rip off the government. You got anything else to say Commando?” Cassie stepped back from Luke and Frankie chuckled. Luke’s eyes shot up from Cassie and looked at Frankie.

“Dude, this is a trap.” Luke’s eyes briefly flitted to me before squaring in on Cassie again. “This will not end well for you.” Luke went to turn away to walk outside.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Mmm.” Cassie hummed as Luke turned around completely. His eyes found me, and he nodded his head outside so I would follow him. I had no idea why Cassie was at Luke’s throat, and I really had no interest in joining her crusade to piss off Luke. So, I followed him outside waving to Cassie as I did. “Thanks for the help.”

“So, you wanted me out of there why? What’s Cassie talking to Frankie about?” I questioned him crossing my arms.

“She wants them to get married so she can get health insurance to pay off her medical debt. Which is fraud, I can’t let Frankie do this to himself. He’ll ruin his life.”

“Since when did you become miss goody two shoes?” I asked him leaning up against the side of the house.

“Since the day I saw you passed out on the bathroom floor from an overdose two years ago.” My eyes shot up from the ground as I looked deeply into his eyes.

“That’s where you went?” he nodded crossing his arms and looking down at his feet. “A nurse told me you were there when I first got there but when I woke up you were nowhere to be found.” He looked up at me again as tears gathered in my eyes.

“I got the help I needed, now I owe him $15,000 after I had to pay my dad off.” He looked away from me when he told me he owed Johno money. “When did you go? What caused your turn around?”

“When mom found me with a needle hanging out of my arm and me passed out in the bathtub she took me straight to a hospital, after they discharged me with only a minor overdose, she admitted me into the drug rehab centre in oceanside. She’s the reason ii got sober, and I didn’t even get the chance to thank her or say goodbye to her.” Tears fell freely down my face as I recounted the broken look on my mom’s face when I came too after she found me. “They wouldn’t even give me a day pass to go to her funeral. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her Luke.” He walked closer to me and when he was within reaching distance, he pulled my smaller frame into his rock-hard body. He cradled my head gently as I cried into his shirt.

“Shhh, it’s going to be okay. I’ll take you to see her if you’d like?”

“I don’t think she would want to see you, Luke. She blamed you for a lot of everything that happened.” I sniffled and he chuckled.

“Then I’ll just deal with the wrath of Ms. Montgomery, wouldn’t be the first time. Come on, I don’t want to see if Frankie agrees to this anyway.” I nodded and let him lead me back through the house. Frankie and Cassie going quiet as we walked through.

“We’re going to see my mom.” I spoke to Frankie and didn’t look at Cassie. He nodded and Luke placed a gentle hand on the small of my back and lead me out to Frankie’s car.

We got to the cemetery shortly after leaving Frankie’s, I frantically looked down the first row of graves before turning to Luke.

“I don’t even know where she is.” The tears hadn’t stopped as he rushed up to me and pulled me into him again.

“I know where she is. When Frankie told me, I spent all day here looking for her. I needed to apologise to her for everything I had put you through to get to the point of you going away.” He took my hand and lead me to a grave towards the back. When I saw her name on the headstone I fell to my knees. Luke followed and gathered me up into his arms again. I gently pushed him away and crawled up to her headstone. My hand traced her name etched into the stone.

“Hi mommy, I miss you so much. I wish you could see where I am now,” I took a shaky breath as I wiped the tears rolling down my cheeks. “I’ve been sober for 12 months now. Frankie’s leaving for Iraq soon, and I feel like I only just got back and got him back. I don’t know how I'm going to survive if he doesn’t come back.” Another shaky deep breath ignoring Luke’s presence now. “I found Luke again too, he's been sober for two years, you should see him now. He's a Marine, like his old man. Who knew Luke Morrow could be a Marine?” I gave a watery chuckle. “I miss you everyday, I'm sorry I couldn’t come say goodbye, they wouldn’t let me out. But I'm here to say goodbye now. I’ll never forget you and everything you’ve ever done for me growing up and everything you still do for me now.” I chanced a glance behind me and remembered Luke. “Luke’s here too, he brought me here. Said he looked for a whole day to find you when Frankie told him. I hope you forgave him, because I have. He saved me that day you know. I could have died but he didn’t let me.” I watched Luke smile at me as he knelt down beside me and took my hand gently in his. “Goodbye mom, I love you so much.” I choked out a sob and turned my head onto Luke’s shoulder, he wrapped both of his strong arms around me and let me cry into his shoulder.

A/N: Please let me know what you think, also if you want to be added to the taglist shoot me a Message/ ask/ comment and ill pop you on,

@desire333

@feitanett

[the-whispers-of-death]

"Dance with me."

Grim Reaper turned to the person speaking, a man he knew so well.

Heartthrob.

Captain Fariz "Heartthrob" Shah was an old acquaintance of Grim Reaper's, the closest thing he had to a friend. Standing at 6'6" tall, he was shorter than Grim Reaper, but he was so much warmer. His brown eyes sparkled and his warm brown skin dimpled when he smiled, brightening any room he walked in. Since they were on deployment, his usual beard was shaved clean, giving the thirty-five year old a sense of youth as his rounded jaw was shown off.

He looked... handsome. If Grim Reaper gave it much thought about Heartthrob's appearance.

"What did you say?" Grim Reaper asked, clearly thinking he had misheard. His voice was deep and monotone as always, an air of coldness surrounding him.

No one ever asked to dance, mostly because they were scared of him. And those who weren't scared of him told him he was just a mindless soldier, a weapon. They weren't wrong, Grim Reaper was nothing more than a weapon.

Okay well, he was also Bharat Mishra's son, a man whom he looked so much alike that he took his father's name as his own. He became his father, and the Marine Corps loved it.

Heartthrob's smile hadn't dimmed and he moved closer to Grim Reaper, holding out a calloused hand. "Dance with me, this is my favorite song. I want to dance with you to it," he repeated, as if that made any sense to Grim Reaper.

But Grim Reaper just thought it was one of the odd things about Heartthrob. Because surely the man must be odd to take one look at a mindless soldier like Grim Reaper and decide to befriend him.

Grim Reaper slipped his hand in Heartthrob's, feeling the warmth of the other man's encase his gloved hand. "I don't know how to dance," he murmured as he let Heartthrob lead him onto the bar's dance floor.

"No need for you to, not really." Heartthrob led him to the middle of the dance floor and let go of Grim Reaper's hand, placing his own around Grim Reaper's waist. "Just wrap your arms around my neck and sway. It'll be fun, I promise."

Grim Reaper bit back his initial instinct to say that he never had fun, but he instead just said nothing. He wrapped his burly arms around Heartthrob's neck, something that would make the others wary.

He had snapped so many enemy soldiers' necks so many times over the years and his efficiency for doing so made the others scram whenever he was in arms distance from them.

But not Heartthrob. Heartthrob stayed so close to Grim Reaper, gave him affectionate pats on the shoulders and chest, touched his waist like he was doing now. He wasn't afraid of being hurt, being burned by the intense paranoid that clouded Grim Reaper's ability to make friends.

He always thought people were going to hurt him. That someone was going to poison his food. Drug his drink.

But Heartthrob always took the first bite of Grim Reaper's food and waited minutes before telling him that it was safe to eat. Always taking the first sip so Grim Reaper knew he could drink it safely.

So kind, so... nurturing.

Grim Reaper always wondered what was in it for Heartthrob. Was it so he could boast about taking down Grim Reaper's walls? Was it so he could hurt Grim Reaper when his walls were fully down?

It made him want to pull back from the man.

Grim Reaper went to do just that, but he looked into Heartthrob's eyes and his paranoia melted away. Instead of pulling away, he found himself leaning in. Since they were so close, he could smell Heartthrob's cologne that he had worn to supposedly woo people.

His callsign was Heartthrob, not because he could charm people, but because he couldn't. He was notoriously bad at getting dates, so other Marines started teasing him and calling him a heartthrob. True to his easygoing nature, he never got angry at the teasing, he actually welcomed it. He joined in on making fun of himself on more than one occasion.

"What are you thinking about?" Heartthrob asked as they swayed together. His hands had moved up slightly, on the small of Grim Reaper's back.

He was cradling him. Like Grim Reaper was something—someone—so precious to him.

Grim Reaper replied immediately, "I'm thinking about you."

And he immediately bit his tongue to stop himself from saying more.

He was always too blunt, too honest. He didn't know how to lie, unless it was to save someone's life. Whenever he had to lie to get someone out of a bad situation, it was like a switch flipped in his brain and he could lie. Other times, he was just too honest, saying such vulnerable things.

Which was why he had to be quiet more often. People often didn't like what he said anyways.

Heartthrob seemed amused though, a laugh bubbling up from his chest and escaping from his lips. His brown eyes seemed to sparkle more as a smile Grim Reaper wasn't sure ever left his face came back. "What about me are you thinking about?"

Instead of replying, Grim Reaper just gave him a blank look, which seemed to amuse Heartthrob even more. So much so that he took advantage of Grim Reaper's sheepishness and grabbed one of his gloved hands, twirling Grim Reaper.

It was like the breath left Grim Reaper, a sense of fleeting freedom washed over as he twirled. What was this feeling blooming in his chest, the twitching in his lips?

"You're glowing," Heartthrob murmured, his voice soft like he was in awe as he brought Grim Reaper back into his hold, pulling the other man against his chest. "You like the twirl, hm? I'll keep that in mind."

Grim Reaper's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't what you're talking about."

And he really didn't. He didn't know what emotion he was feeling, why he was even feeling anything.

Shouldn't he be emotionless? His father trained him to be an emotionless soldier, to be molded into whatever the Marine Corps wanted him to be. So what was this foreign emotion that he was feeling?

Heartthrob chuckled. "You looked like you were about to smile," he explained softly, unbothered at having to explain emotions to Grim Reaper. "Your eyes were bright, you looked happy. It's like the world gets so much brighter and you feel like nothing can dim the warmth you feel. Does that sound similar to what you felt?"

"I... I don't know," Grim Reaper admitted, wincing at his own words. He waited with abated breath, waiting for the inevitable scoff and disbelief that he didn't understand what happiness was or what emotion he was feeling.

"That's okay," Heartthrob instead responded with, one of his hands lifting upwards and gently guiding Grim Reaper's head towards his shoulder. "We'll take it one day at a time, help you learn your emotions, together."

Grim Reaper melted in Heartthrob's arms. "You promise?" he asked.

Heartthrob smiled down at Grim Reaper. "I promise, and perhaps we can also see about you giving yourself your own name." His hand was still on the back of Grim Reaper's hair, his fingers gently carding through the black strands.

"I like the name Vikram."

"Vikram, what a beautiful name. I promise, Vikram, I'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[firecooking]

Here me out, in the tugs fandom there are 3 depictions of captain zero

1. Shitty mustache ( looks like it's pencil drawn)

2. Mustache that curls into a zero ( it curling to represent how he's the antagonist and also it resembles a 0 )

3. No mustache ( because he's either terrible at facial hair or artist just didn't draw him with one)

In your au is there an inside joke that zero can't grow proper facial hair?

I have been a conosuier of human Captain Zero's for years, and that theory does hold water!

I think the only Zero I can think of until a few that cropped up around this year with a beard that was drawn more than once is Dan-the-countdowner's over on deviant art. God speed Dan you where like the only guy drawing human Captains for years.

Also, your asks are always on deck in my ask box when I have a few minutes of free time, please don't think I'm ignoring them, sometimes it takes me a while to formulate my answers. Also I don't often do drawing requests, but I make an exception for my TUGS au's!

Anyways, on to my au! There will be a detailed explanation under the read more but tldr:

When Zero was a younger man he always kept himself clean shaven, after his time in he army he attempts to grow a mustache, which was universally hated and every one regarded as a bad move. Post War 1918-pre Zip 1920 is lovingly known as the rat years in the photo albums that reside around Zero Marine Bigg City.

Before the Great War Captain Zero clean shaved every morning, brushed out, cared for, and styled his hair, and generally looked put together and intentional despite living with rather wild, wavy, longer hair. I picture him around a 2b/2c if he makes an attempt to care for it but when he's not doing anything particular its just a frizzy/fluffy 2a, he has pretty fine hair so it's never consistent unless Zero makes the effort. His hair keeping short also makes it less wavy than it might be if he let it grow out.

He'll never admit it but he never really liked looking anyone in the eyes as a young man, and he still doesn't like it. His long bangs covering his face made him feel more calm and helped hide the fact he was avoiding eye contact.

When he signed up for the draft, Star had made a few passing comments about his hair, but Zero never thought anything of it. He's always remembered Star had had longer hair, and the Army wasn't that different to the navy, right?

After he was drafted and was in training, one of the first things that happened was his hair was trimmed back to fit in his helmet better and his daily grooming routine was reprimanded as a waste of time for a medic. He was told to change it or lives would be lost. So change it he did. This change consisted of not doing his hair routine save for 'basic maintenance' [ie, none] as needed, and only shaving one or twice a week, his facial hair never did grow very fast and was rather sparse anyways.

When he got back from the war, he vowed to grow his hair back out, but he was a different man returning home.

With his new found free time in the mornings meant he could always find time for tea and some breakfast. Making for a slightly less 'tired bitch of a captain' according to his three tugboats [data gathered from eaves dropping on their nightly poker games]. With his shaving routine fully altered and him no longer being picky about being clean shaven, he decided to try out facial hair, his father always maintained a beard, so why couldn't he? Genetics were on his side! He often forgets he's adopted.

It never did grow in fast, or very full. Even with Zorran's best efforts to help, Zero never really had more than a slightly bushy mess. And his hair never really got back to it's same length/health after the war, he always blamed it on the fact it was cut back, and not the fact he was a depressed mess after Europe who had stopped grooming almost entirely for years.

When Zip was due to be christened, Zero finally went down to a barbers shop to get himself cleaned up for the photographs at the urging of his tugboats and mother.

The barber took one look at him and told him the mustache needed to go and that his hair was initially damaged from lack of care during the war and then exacerbated by lack of care after. Zero on a whim let the man do what he felt was right, it was a new decade after all.

Zero's up cut was initially very low maintenance for him and he quite preferred it that way. Zero didn't keep up steam with his hair care the same way he did before the war, but he could manage to brush it in the morning to keep it from getting as bad as it had been.

Once Zasha comes into his life and he realized she has much curlier hair than he ever did [a mix of 3 b/c], he starts to pick hair maintenance back up as he learns how to take care of her hair. He's gotta be a role model and a good father after all. He still never gets back to how he was before the war, but at least his hair is healthy instead of oily, frizzy, and out of place.

More importantly he's taking regular showers and grooming again. His tugs count both of those things as a win.

He never figures out why he was less particular about the way he looks after the war. He was living a life of crime before the war. In the army he never injured a soul or took a life, unlike his days collecting debts as an 'accountant.'

He doesn't see how the war to end all wars could have changed him.

[scorpionoesit]

Hello author, don't mind me if I borrow your beta for a bit to ask a question if they see this-

Hello author's beta! (Alibi :D) I saw in one of the ask answers that world building is your jam, bread and butter (I've been stuck here for too long help me/j) anyway, I wanted to see if we could borrow some of your jam wisdom. (Can we have worldbuilding tips?)

Ps: love you author I love advice from you as well please don't hurt me-

"Okay...alright, so basically I have like two types of worldbuilding. One that's like history world building, which we'll get to in a minute, but the other I like to call Band-Aid world-building. *chuckles* So basically, for history worldbuilding, like let's say if someone were to look at earth, our worldbuilding would be history. And I like history! So this is fun! Making fake history? Awesome! So [for Vagabonds] it was like, finding things we refer to historically in real life and giving them like, Vagabonds...painting(?). Like how we can say...just say 'the pyramids' and you know what I mean. The same way they say 'the Archives' and you know what they mean. How we will casually refer to World War II is how they refer to their Civil War sort of thing. Just casual pieces of history that appear in our everyday life, how would that translate to a fictional world? And that's basically it. And just having like how [Scorpio] did before, just having those little references can eventually build into something else. So we don't even fully build a history, we just make little references, and if we need a history, we can go back to those and be like 'oh, let's expand on this'. Which is basically what we did. So basically this type of worldbuilding is just to add a little spice. You think there's dimension, but no, it's just a greenscreen. It's meant to make your world feel fuller. More lived in without having to make up years of complex historical shenanigans. Anyway, but Band-Aid worldbuilding is my favorite, okay? Because it's basically just like...built a story! Story has plot holes? Band-Aid worldbuilding over them! That's how you fix all plot holes: worldbuilding! Uhh, so like, Tommy has to help people that are hurt. Why can't he just call an ambulance? Well, obviously...there are none here! Band-aid, BAM! You see what I mean? That's...yeah, that's basically the two types. So basically, my advice would be not to focus on worldbuilding? Just build your story, use worldbuilding to fix any little issues, then throw in some historical references." (Another thing that I like to do (that I know isn't for everyone) is making fake religions? *nervous laugh* It's a weird thing to say out loud. 'I like to make fake religions like a good cult leader!' Yeah, but...just like we see that religions are, like, vitally integral to all things history, ever? And nothing makes a world feel more lived in than seeing how their religion has kinda grown with them? In a purely metaphorical sense. Am I making sense? [Nope! :3] Anyway, I also enjoy the thought experiments of picking little pieces of real life religions and mashing them together and shoving them into a story for my own enjoyment. And this hasn't shown up in Vagabonds yet, and it's important not to be too heavy-handed with it, but it's a good way to give a set group of people the same motivations and morals, I guess? [You'll see more of this in Vagabonds later on.])

xD And that's all they wrote.

I would also like to clarify, this is not the only way to do it? Obviously, I know, but like...I doubt this sort of thing worked with Tolkien. Everyone has their own method, their own process. This is ours.

It also helps that someone takes eons to write, which let's the worldbuilding marinate for eons. Hehe...

[desolateice]

(Scissors) what's your editing process?

(Hamburger/three lines) send a fic and an unrelated trope and I'll remix it - Cherry Cordial but Royalty AU 👀

Thank you for the asks from this game! 💖 ✄ what’s your editing process? Editing process...lol what editing process? Okay so I'm going to give you my like actual editing process for anything that I like send out beyond fandom funsies. Write Let it set for a bit, walk away from it. Come back, read it to myself. Read it to a small gathering of plushies (do this for my secret santa fics because those are gifts so I want them to be slightly more edited then my usual.) Go walk away for a bit or do something else. If lucky come back another day. Have a text to voice reader read the thing back to me. Make edits and changes. Have it re-read it to me again. Repeat as needed. Maybe pop it into a program that is supposed to fix your writing. However I don't fully trust those. They make just as dumb of mistakes as I make on my own and sometimes worse ones.😂 Send the thing wherever it needs to go. My teachers always told me to let things marinate and my mentor pretty much told me that I got to always read my stuff out loud to myself so that I can catch errors I wouldn't otherwise. I use the plushies because I was trained to read to people, to an audience even though I hate it because I get super nervous about it. But then later on in work situations where I had to edit I realized that wasn't working because I was inflecting which is fine in fiction but not so much in non-fiction and was told that sometimes it helps if something else reads it to you so now I have an app in monotone read to me because then I can catch when things don't sound right or when something is wrong because I'm not filling in those blanks myself because I know the content too well. Another reason why letting things marinate works. But truthfully for fics I write it in Scrivener, read it to myself not out loud, paste it into ao3, read it one more time adding bolds or italics because for some reason those don't copy over from Scrivener properly and then hit paste and try not to cringe at all the mistakes I find later when I re-read the thing. Because I make more mistakes now then I used to, silly mistakes I didn't use to make but again, it's for fun so I try not to let it bother me too much and when I've got the energy I try to occasionally pop back in and fix glaring errors. But I'm sure I miss them.

☰ send a fic and an unrelated trope and I’ll remix it Cherry Cordial as a Royalty AU 🤔 My first thought here is that it's magic right? Like at it's core Cherry Cordial is about magic which makes me think fairy tales and then I realize that's what Candied Apples is. 😂 A fairy tale royal au of sorts. So maybe we can mix a few fairy tales together for a royalty au. Daniel stumbles upon a magical artifact like the lamp only instead of a genie he gets Terry. Or Terry could be like jafar, (I should probably read the original and not just know the disney version) Or Daniel runs into a witch (Terry) and makes a trade to be a royal so that he can better compete with the royals or get a step ahead of them (Johnny and cobras) Because Johnny would be a prince...or maybe he's Cinderella. I guess my question is whose the royal in this AU? One of them? Both of them? Johnny's Cinderella with fairy godmother Susan and his cat that talks and dresses up in a pretty dress and all in magical disguise to dance for the night because Susan wants to dance with the princess and can't go alone, or they sneak in to dance together and Susan uses her magic to help him sneak in with him without getting into a fight because he and Daniel (the prince) don't get along, only Daniel doesn't recognize him but also kind of does but can't quite put his finger on it and wants to keep dancing but the magic will for sure where off so Johnny runs, slipper left behind. If we do a both of them au, maybe Daniel is set to meet up with Johnny to discuss things between their kingdoms but they've met before and it went awful and he doesn't want it all to get screwed up again so he makes a drink, a concoction he finds in an old book that should make them more amiable but he made the wrong one and he thinks he totally gave him a love potion, but he also misread it and really it's just a harmless aphrodisiac or something like eating an oyster but not, and so Daniel is less nervous and actually having a good time and Johnny was determined to try and have a good time and maybe his cat keeps like trying to trip him and Daniel catches him when Peri succeeds in tripping him and he realizes he's got a total crush because Daniel's good at all the princely stuff: sword fighting and horseback riding and talking and Johnny doesn't feel like he is (except at fighting) but really they're both in the same boat at being good at it just getting in their own heads and thinking the other is better. Maybe Terry uses Daniel to kidnap Johnny by tricking him so that he can impress Kreese, not realizing that was maybe a non-useful ploy and really only just makes Daniel have to go rescue him but also makes Johnny realize that he's not as worthless as he was lead to believe and that he actual does know all the princely things he's supposed to and is good at it. But Daniel would for sure bust in, possibly fight Terry, realize it's a waste of time and grab Johnny and run. Gotta let him have his badass hero moments.

[harudnae]

The Roger Pirates brainrot is so strong those days, so I figured I could share another fic with some of them 😏

I wrote this one the day after reading Chapter 1054, and it was fully canon compliant back then... I've always hated the evil!Shanks theories so I wanted to share mine.

We've gotten more data about Cross Guild since, and things didn't happen the way I thought they would, but I still hope they'll have that conversation one day 😬

Originally posted on AO3 on 2022.07.28

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Shanks x Buggy

Summary: Buggy is pissed. An explanation is needed. He gets more than he bargained for.

Content warnings : Post-Wano, bitter Buggy, angst with a happy ending, spoilers for chapter 1054

Word count: 1.3k

🔶 Better late than never 🔶

"Oi, oi, oi ! What do you think you're doing, bastard ?!"

Shanks gets a hold of Buggy's wrist where it's grabbing his collar, and gently squeezes.

Buggy tightens his grip around the fabric and steps into the redhead's personal space. "No, you've gotten away with too much of this already, so now you listen closely. First, you stayed in the East Blue for long enough to find me but you never met me somehow. Then you left your- no, Captain Roger's hat with the rubber brat. Plus, you may have helped me escape Marineford, but considering all the backlash I've gotten since then, I wouldn't consider that a favor from you to me. And now what ?"

Shanks frowns. "Buggy-"

"Oh, no, Shanks, you better shut it ! I thought I'd read wrong when my crew brought me the latest News Coo. Says you're going... Where, now ?" Buggy squints, threateningly raises a detached fist under Shanks's chin as he raises his voice. "Oh wait. I already know, and since you don't seem to care let me remind you of something. We were supposed to go back together. That was your so-called "promise" from twenty-five years ago." He grits his teeth and swallows around the growing lump in his throat, his voice slightly wavering as he continues, "Can't you respect shit anymore ? I mean... Why ?"

Shanks releases Buggy's wrist, offers him an apologetic smile, and pulls him for a one-armed hug, burying his head in blue hair.

Buggy stiffens in the redhead's embrace. "What-"

Shanks places his hand between Buggy's shoulder-blades and hold him flush against him. "Buggy."

Buggy feels the rumble of Shanks's low voice echoing through his chest, strangely soothing. He realizes it's been years, decades even, since they've been so close physically, and he feels tears welling up in his eyes at the unprompted nostalgia.

"I'm not disrespecting or betraying anyone", Shanks murmurs in the crook of his neck. "Luffy's going to reach his dream and when he does, he'll help Captain realize his. I just want to be there to see both come to completion..."

Buggy closes his eyes, trying his best to hold back his tears. "What about me ?", he asks, voice tight.

Shanks pulls him tighter, buries his head a little closer to Buggy's skin. "I need you", he quietly says.

Buggy's heart stills in his chest. "What for ?", he barely manages to breathe out.

"Well... Now that Luffy has awakened his Devil Fruit he makes a good target for Blackbeard and his crew of Devil Fruit stealers. We have to take them down."

Anger flares again. "What does that have to do with me ?", Buggy growls, opening pained eyes only to glare at Shanks.

"You were the first to notice that something was wrong with Teach. Twenty-six years ago, you knew, I was too immature to consider him a threat but he's long since proved otherwise. And since I doubt World Government or the Marines would take action against him now, considering the circumstances, well... It's up to us."

Buggy grits his teeth. "That doesn't answer my question."

"I knew you'd come. I thought you'd know me better than that, but I'm still sorry for not making my intentions clear. Considering our current positions I couldn't really reach out without attracting attention, but... well." Shanks leans back a little, still holding Buggy flush against him.

Buggy reluctantly makes eye contact.

Shanks looks serious, a little hopeful, and something else that Buggy can't quite pinpoint. "We're only a couple of days away, now." He glances behind him, towards the Red Force's prow, then back at Buggy with a hint of his trademark lopsided smile. "Come with me ?"

Buggy blinks. He raises a hand to rub his temple, frowning and closing his eyes in annoyance. "Are you really, seriously asking me to go to Laugh Tale with you, now, to see your rubber protégé claim our Captain's title ?"

No answer.

Buggy opens inquiring eyes, only to find Shanks smiling like an idiot. He heavily sighs, shakes his head and shoves an accusatory finger into Shanks's chest. "You goddamn bastard. You are the most insufferable", he shoves his finger again, "annoying", and again, "obnoxious fucking idiot I've ever known ! How was I supposed to guess whatever your plan was ? Couldn't you just- I don't know, like tell me about it instead of..." Buggy flails his hands in the air. "Ugh- You're so infuriating."

Shanks's grin only widens. "Is that a yes ?"

Buggy glares, and sighs again, more angrily. "What's in it for me, huh ? Why should I even bother ?"

"Because this trip is long overdue... Because for all you say that you don't care, I bet you'd like to be there to see Captain's dream come to life. And... because once it's done, you can take whatever's left of the Tenryuubito's wealth and finally get all the riches."

Buggy gives him a deadpan stare until that last bit, where he can't help but perk up a little. He blinks. "Oh."

"So ?"

Buggy squints, studying the redhead. Shanks has always had a knack of dragging me into impossible situations, but now that the world's in chaos what's really left to loose, eh ? At least we can fight together once more. Nostalgia blurs the edge of his vision again, he blinks the faulty salty drops away. He takes a deep breath and looks to his side, at his own ship close to Shanks's, at his crew quietly but expectantly waiting for his decision. He knows they'd follow him anywhere. He looks back at Shanks. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't." He shrugs, and lets a smirk curve his lips. "Let's go ?"

Shanks intensely looks at him as he nods.

Both of their crews start loudly cheering, but Buggy barely hears them, deafened by the sound of his own heartbeat as Shanks now fiercely embraces him.

He's got that serious look, the one he has when he's dead set on something and nothing can change his mind...

Buggy's kind of scared to be the target of that look. What did I just get myself into ?

Shanks leans in and closes the short distance between their lips.

Buggy blinks. He doesn't move, surprised this was even in the tree of possibilities in the first place. He blinks again. He still doesn't move, but as Shanks's lips linger on his, he finds he doesn't want to draw back either. He closes his eyes, exhales the breath he hadn't noticed he was holding, and kisses Shanks back. Well, fuck. I'm an goddamn idiot because that too was long overdue. Suddenly at peace with a lot more than he expected when he first came here, he threads a hand at Shanks's nape and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss.

Shanks all too happily indulges him, grinning against his lips.

Buggy bites Shanks's lower lip – why didn't we do that sooner – and earns a downright sinful moan that goes straight to his groin – fuck I want so much more – and starts sucking on Shanks's tongue when the redhead draws back, short of breath.

Buggy opens his eyes, intensely looking at Shanks.

Shanks quietly mouths the word "tonight", and gives a quick glance to his side.

Buggy's heartbeat stops for a fraction of second, muting the loud drumming in his ears for long enough to hear both of their crews cheering even louder. He clears his throat, steps away from the redhead's embrace but remains close enough to place a hand on his shoulder. Then he turns to his crew, making a few rowdy jokes but otherwise pretty happy for him. "Yeah, well, I'm just that flashy", he shrugs, forcing a laugh in an attempt to maintain a semblance of composure.

Shanks pats Buggy's back, prompting him to look up. He grins, wide and bright as always. He looks happy.

Buggy realizes that despite Shanks being such an insufferable, annoying, obnoxious, infuriating bastard... He really missed him. He won't tell him, never, but he guesses Shanks can see it anyway. As his gaze softens, a new hope fills his lungs, and he turns back to his crew yelling, "Let's go, people ! To Laugh Tale !"

[declanlikesmusic]

Today's Listens: Episode 005

August 10th, 2023

So I'm writing this one the morning after and that makes it seem like I didn't have time to write because I was busy that day, but the truth was, I was on a day off and I wanted to marinate on my thoughts before putting pen to paper before, oops, my mood soured at the end of the night. Hopefully I'll get back on track in the coming days, or else I might end up having to skip days for this. Yay.

Just a content warning. At least one of the album covers here has depicted nudity, with a particular instance needing to be censored. I'm using a censored cover art sourced from Spotify, yet I don't even know if that's gonna be enough for this to fly under Tumblr's radar. Let's hope.

Infinity Frequencies – Between two worlds (2018)

I started yesterday off with an Infinity Frequencies album. This artist may very well be argued as being one of, if not the greatest broken transmission producer working today, but I was hesitant to go back to this one in particular. Namely because, on previous listens, the record felt a little too ambient and sparse to really captivate me. Luckily, since my last checking-out of this album, there was this phenomenon I call the Pad Chenningtonification (patent-pending) where a popular YouTuber shouts out a record that is not the artist's best work and it becomes commonly seen as their best work. Yay. Luckily I was fresh off of finding out that their 2015 album Into the light was way better than I initially thought it was, so I got to this one with an open mind and was treated to an experience that was only just barely consistently great. This is still not their best album in my view, but I'm glad that I can at least say I pretty much loved my experience here. Check this out, but also check out Computer Death and Into the light and I guarentee, you will find yourself a fan of InFreq at the end of the day.

7.5 / 10

Highlights: Under the city, Replica encounter, Between two worlds, Synthetic remains, Obsolete request, The time that remains Unraveling

Xepter Rose – Selenitic Landscapes (2014)

This one's a little random, but if you know death's dynamic shroud in any capacity, you'll be surprised to find that one of the members James Webster has made some ambient music on the side! Just as the trio were taking off, he made a pretty decent progressive electronic experience. I'm a little biased because I really loved his Virtual Utopia Experience visual thing, but two of the best tracks here show up on that movie as well and of course, they're great here. Aside from those two and Clock Tower Ruin, I cannot say that I am fully enamoured with this one. It's often sprawling and sparse in a way that doesn't flatter it all too much for me. That said, if you like modern synth ambient music, I'd give this one a shot. I already like it, but you might love it more than I do.

7.0 / 10

Highlights: Meteor Storm, Perpetual Twilight, Pottery & Stairs, Clock Tower Ruin

Magdalena Bay – mini mix vol. 3 (2023)

I wanted to cover more music from the current year, so I rolled upon this tiny mixtape from the rising pop duo Magdalena Bay. I wasn't expecting too much out of this one, just a one-off of decent tracks, but I found myself really in love with this one! It comes off as a mini mix, duh, of new material and they're all blended together very seamlessly while still coming across as their own songs! From the underrated intro to the simultaneously catchy and almost ascendent run of cuts by the end, they've knocked this one out of the park! It's not much (again, mini) but if you need a pop palette cleanser for just a quarter of an hour, this will undeniably satiate that for you!

8.2 / 10

Highlights: Slug Song, Top Dog, Tonguetwister

Torn Hawk – Through Force of Will (2014)

This one comes from an artist that always allured me from the mysterious realms of hypnagogic pop and specifically this tape and its glitchy cover art ripping an iconic still from a movie, I can't tell which. We have elements all over this record that primarily pull from outsider house and some of the tracks here are honestly great. They don't seem that captivating at first, but as they draw on, they start to become hypnotic. I really dug this one. I don't think every track works for me, this one again straddled the line between like and love for me, especially with the ambient cuts, but if you're already a fan of hypnagogic pop and want to dive in further, I'd totally suggest this one!

7.5 / 10

Highlights:

HELLCOM – ACID MP3s (2016)

Here's where things start to turn sour for me. I adore HELLCOM, I really do. His two concept albums under this alias, spanning mere months between eachother, are among the most creative, captivating and awe-inspiring vaporwave albums in the Business Casual catalogue! I'd recommend them to anybody, even non-fans of the genre who've already dipped their toes in. However, as a big fan of the format of DJ mixes, rating the two that he's put out before moving on to HDMIRROR are difficult. Timestamping this one specifically was particularly hellish; there are tracks listed that I'm convinced don't show up here, so that made rating this nearly impossible. I pushed through it though, but not without a little bit of a headache. His plunderphonic electropop and EDM sensibilities shine through here, but in the most surreal, glitch-centric ways possible that I struggle to fully recommend unless you huge fans of those sounds. Try it at your own risk; I liked it, but the more I thought about it, the less sense it just made for me.

7.2 / 10

Highlights: She Doesn't Mind, Hunter / N-Trance Forever, TIll I Come (Remix), Everytime

Xiu Xiu – A Promise (2003)

I've always been torn on Xiu Xiu. They have albums that I fully love and I'll get to those when I do, but the reason why I haven't covered them yet was because I was very hesitant to find the right time and mood for their sophomore effort that I remembered really liking but also not knowing why. I bit the bullet and just decided to finally go for this and I really don't think this was ever meant for me. I think I was lying to myself then. Don't get it twisted, it's obviously good, but it is surreal and incredibly depressive. It's often sparse in ways that, again, don't work for me, but it can also be very noisy in ways that just don't capture me. The whole thing is completely unhinged and that's no thanks to the themes of suicide throughout that just really disconnect me from the experience. I at least appreciated the Fast Car cover and how the record was trying to start out, but as it went on, I almost stopped respecting it entirely. This is purely for fans of experimental and post-industrial music that enjoy records that are this sad and intense to listen to.

6.4 / 10

Highlights: Sad Pony Guerrilla Girl, 20,000 Deaths for Eidelyn Gonzales, 20,000 Deaths for Jamie Peterson, Fast Car

Deftones – Around the Fur (1997)

By this point, I felt like I was ready for pretty much anything after that, so I thought: fuck it, why not tackle some metal? Nu metal specifically. We have Deftones' sophomore album here, I've already enjoyed other work of theirs, especially Ohms, so what could go wrong here? Well, it definitely sounds good. The recording quality is about as good as what you'd expect from any popular subgenre of modern metal. The performances are tight as well, they honestly put a lot of thought into the energy of the record. So what gives, how come I don't love it? Well, you see, they have to be songs. This is why metal struggles a lot for me, it hardly finds any hooks or riffs that function as hooks or riffs. One of the only moments that were at all memorable to me was the first ten seconds of it and I only know it because I know it was used as a sample; I don't love this riff! The only other thing I remember was the closing track and it's pretty cool use of back-and-forth backing vocals. I found that to be cool! Otherwise, this just functioned as a metal album to me and I can sadly say not much more. If you like metal, go for it, but that's not for me.

6.4 / 10

Highlights: My Own Summer (Shove It), Mascara, Around the Fur, MX

3RA1N1AC – H1551NG PRI95 1N 5TAT1C COUTUR3 (1996)

So, how could my evening get any worse? Well, you see, I was approaching my 1,337th rating at this time, my leet rating as I was anticipating. I was given Hissing Prigs in Static Couture by a few friends and it looked like a perfect match for it! However, I am, as the doctors would say, an R slur and briefly missed that milestone when I heard Around the Fur. I didn't want to let that slide, so I cheated by swapping these two albums' placements, but I'm still gonna talk about this after Around the Fur because this was just not a good end to my night. I expected a pretty loud, semi-raucous, energetic and wild listen of a rock & punk and I'm glad to say that I've got it! But in a way that was not very good to me. At first, I thought this record was gonna be okay; not for me, but an enjoyable & worthwhile listen nonetheless, but um. It didn't even last long as that for me either. This listening experience was constantly diminishing returns and I'm too tired even now to fully express why, other than the noises, the instruments, the melodies and especially the vocals got more and more grating with each and every track. I thought by the start, I was merely losing interest and getting tired, but at a certain point, this album just lost it. By the end, this came off as completely obnoxious and irritably annoying. I know I disappointed my friends with that, but that's just how it felt to me. I'm sorry, but the way this closed my night was a complete letdown and while you're likely to enjoy it more than I do, I'd personally steer clear of it unless it interests you.

4.1 / 10

Highlights: 1ND1AN POK3R (PART 3), PU55YFOOT1N'

So yeah, I'm sorry to rant, but that sucked. I couldn't muster up writing any of that until the following morning because I was just having a hard time comprehending how sour I felt by the end of this. I want to make it clear, this is not to the fault of any of the musicians and it's definitely not the fault of the people that recommended them either. This was all just me and not having good ears. Overtime, I've started to realise that my wishlist was looking less and less appealing as I've knocked more ratings out. I don't think I'm gonna purge it, but I might just try to clean it up at some point and realise where I've gotta draw the line for some of these artists, because over 750 of them unfathomable at this point. I'll see ya next time.

[starscelly]

i’m the question asking anon from earlier and istg literally every time you share something about this au i just become more invested! i will read anything you post about them why do these boys have my heart

robo’s rebellion moment made me chuckle, it’s also so sweet that his mom helped familiarize him with the guitar!

i still don’t know what questions to ask so ig this is like another ‘ today i want to talk about [ insert thing here]’ (heck, it can be another 5 of those, however many you need/want)

i guess a question is how did roope find robo and otter? what made them realize that they fit/work together in that way?

the boys also have my heart and every single inch of space in my brain so i get it !!!! thank u again for ur like. investment and giving me space to blab abt them fudfkskldsfl i appreciate it sm <3 <3

i had to marinate and think a Lot on how robo, jake, and roope all meet bc obviously coming from 3 different places there has to be an element of chance but also. i dont wanna go completely batshit lmao. here's an Attempt at explaining my thoughts!!:

otter still goes to college but instead of bu. bc he's not pursuing hockey. he ends up going to ut austin (its a good communications school and he actually has a communications degree like. real life)

he doesnt rlly Love school but he’s figuring out what he wants in life and his parents wanted him to go. so.

robo and him meet at some random ass show in texas, where robo only is bc his family drove over in the rv for a Different show

they dont immediately run off together and play music lol but they do keep in contact via text and calls for a few months, rlly Bond and become super close

robo comes through texas with his family again eventually but theyre not performing in austin this time, just dallas. so jake goes out there to see them

they've kind of vaguely been talking abt forming their own band at this point but obviously there's the distance that both of them are kind of. scared to close on a whim for smthn that might not work. and also they want to get someone who can consistently do lead vocals and play bass etc

anyways. they have a couple free days so they go to random house shows and smaller venues around dallas

roope is in the area bc at this time he's playing in the NAHL but heavily considering dropping hockey for music (he Actually played for bismarck and for like 2 games but. for the au ive decided he played longer for the lone star brahmas lol) and is basically just trying to find out what he's heading for, what he Wants

they see roope performing with a band that is like. Not His but just kind of a random assortment of his friends in the scene fucking around having fun (the house show is at one of his friend's places)

and roope is not. a great singer. he's not professionally trained and amazing. but he has a really fucking unique and cool voice (they will later find out this is bc of his accent and aversion to having a clear throat) so theyre like. heavily heavily intrigued bc they think it could make for a sick sound . in their band. what a coincidence!!

robo. looking like the most average dude ever. walks up to him after like hey ... we saw u from across the punk house and rlly dig ur vibe. and otter is kind of mortified but also is like ^^ play music with us please just to see ^^

roope is in an . emotionally difficult time in his life trying to decide if he wants to take a leap and leave all he's ever known his entire life. so obviously he jumps at the first chance and is like. Fuck It let's do it

obviously there's more logistics - roope finishes out his season before fully committing to the band, robo has to have this whole discussion with his family and have this emotional ass move to dallas, otter doesnt drop out completely but does have to explain to his family that his band is going to be his first priority at some point and starts taking only online classes etc - but thats how those three kind of. Meet and Click

theyre also still having bassist woes and thats when roope calls miro etc but. this isnt abt him rn for once

its a weird mix of a lot of Right Place Right Time scenarios, but how else do two americans who have no reason to ever meet end up with two finns who have little reason to be in america in the first place!!

i also think at first there's not really. Issues necessarily. but it takes a while for otter and robo, who are both super friendly open people, to kind of figure out roope's whole thing so they can finally click. which he's not Unfriendly per se but also he's not going out of his way to make conversation. but once they figure out oh he doesnt hate us and he's not even like one of those mean snappy punks he's just. european.. it's all relatively smooth sailing from there lol . it also helps when miro finally arrives and is both much friendlier at face value and also has roope being overly affectionate and up his ass 24/7 (which eventually bleeds over into his interactions with the other two)

[jornadalunar]

Letter 2

Dear ____,

I listened to ______ by ____ _ and now I'm ready to admit I'm falling in love with you. I would apologize for being dramatic but you're not reading this... are you?

When it finished I played it again. I'm halfway through. It feels like you're gently wiping away the soot and muck, revealing something long forgotten underneath. You said this was your favorite artist; I can see why. It reminds me of you. But did you know that this dissonance is what cracks my ribcage open? Feast your eyes, this is my heart. Flayed and singed it sits in its cavity in many pieces. A conglomerate, some parts ruby red, others taking on the dull gray-purple hues of rotting meat. These chords wash over me, scratch at my wounds, the type of feverish scratch you lose yourself to. I want to devour you. Part of me thinks it will make me whole. A bigger part of me hopes we're destined for something greater. And a small part of me casts destiny aside and says, "there is something good here. Better than we've ever known or hoped to know. Let us take care to watch it grow, tend to it the way we know how, listen when it's time to change our ways, and bask in the uncertainty of something good."

You will never understand me fully in just the same way that I will never fully understand you. You represent all that I want but felt like I couldn't have. How dare you remind me that I am my biggest setback? Loving you means resenting myself. Loving you means loving myself. Loving you means I need to get my act together, so I can enjoy all you have to offer without feeling like I'm not enough. Loving you means being patient with myself, or trying.

I've listened to the album 6 times at least. I wonder why that seems concerning. This album... if I had heard it when it came out, would I have liked it? Would I have allowed myself to like it? I only know myself restrained. I only know myself under someone else's rule. What a novel thought – I can do or say what I want, I just have to take responsibility for it. I don't need to search for the "right" thing, I just need to get better at making mistakes.

This album fucking hurts. I think its immaculately done. The lyrics, the music... it speaks so well to the bitterness that comes with longing. That bitterness, but cut with the sweet naïveté of hope, of goodness. Hopelessness with hope. Just the smallest sliver of hope, barely sturdy enough to keep you from drowning. I lose my mind over that hope. See, it's supposed to keep you floating until you reach the shore. But for years, for years, I charged at that hope, that hope too small to hold all of me; I watched that hope fail me, break apart and plunge me into a bitter ocean. I would simmer in that ocean, maladaptive marination. That hope, it's not that it's unbreakable, but malleable, pliable. It puts itself back together. And at the last point, as the last bubble threatens to leave my parted lips, that sliver of hope catches my eye again. And once again I charge at it, like a crazed madman desperate for an escape. I've been plunged into the bitterness over and over again.

Not anymore. I'm going to try my best. Just my pinky finger, maybe. I'll hold onto this hope, and see how long I can last. I want to make it to the shore.

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Warmth

Pairing: Alpha Beefy Bucky x Female Mutant Reader

Summary: Being paired off with Bucky Barnes on a mission was hard enough. Hell, the two of you being a part of Hydra a long time ago was already hard enough. But when the two of you are forced to seek shelter in an Avengers safehouse, it gets even worse.

Because there's only one freaking bed.

Will you survive the night with the grumpy Alpha by your side? Or will you rip your hair out?

Who knows. The nights are unpredictable.

What you do know is, is that Bucky Barnes is too fucking hot for his damn good.

Maybe you just might pull your hair out.

Warnings: Heavy A/B/O dynamics. Mentions of past torture from Hydra for both Bucky and the Reader. This Bucky is sort of a mix between CW!Bucky, (hence the beefy!Bucky), but also TFATWS!Bucky bc I love grumpy old man, sassy Bucky. Some angst/hurt/comfort, because I'm a hoe for angst. No heats/ruts in this lil fic, just good ole rough smut. Some biting and some mild blood too. This sex would be considered unprotected irl, but in the a/b/o verse, I don't think you'd need protection??? Who knows. Italics are for when Bucky and the Reader are talking in Russian. The Reader also has a nightmare, which ties back in with the whole mention of past torture from Hydra. If I missed any other warnings in this, let me know and I'll make sure to add them!

Additional Notes: This was written for @agentofbarnes's writing challenge! Congrats on 7k, Zee! I'm sorry this took so long. I started writing this in July, and let it marinate for far too long. But it's here now. I hope you enjoy!

All writing mistakes in this fic are mine, as usual.

Word Count: 4,602

Hell.

This was absolute pure fucking hell.

As you and the former Winter Soldier, James "Bucky" Barnes himself stared at the front door of one of the safehouses for the Avengers in case of emergencies, you couldn't help make eye contact with him.

Great. This was just great.

No one, not even Clint had told you that it would be snowing in freaking January in rural Ohio, of all places.

Then again, you had faintly remembered doing gymnastics before you had been taken by Hydra with some arrogant Alpha guy named Lance. He had been a real pain in your ass and you remembered you had made him cry once. After you had escaped from Hydra, you had bumped into him again. Funnily enough, he was still just as scared of you as he was all those years ago. Which, you know, was nice.

But what was not nice was the Alpha that was currently looking back at you. James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, Buck, White Panther, Jesus, Bionic Staring Machine- (the last three nicknames, all given to him by the Alpha Sam Wilson himself), scowled at you. His blue eyes even narrowed at you.

You wouldn't call what you and Bucky had a friendship. You two weren't even enemies. Heck, colleagues? Teammates? That was just putting it lightly, the relationship you had with the Alpha. Even when you had been captured and brainwashed into serving Hydra, the two of you had never crossed paths. It had been only after Hydra had fallen, did the two of you actually meet in person. Other than that, nothing. Nada. Nope. No with a capital N.O.

"Come on, let's go." Bucky all but grumbled. Realizing he didn't have the key to get inside, he looked at you. Like you had the key or something.

"James, I don't have the key." Bucky groaned. "Do you have a bobby pin, Omega? Something?" He asked in Russian. You plucked a bobby pin from your hair. A stray piece of hair fell. Putting the flat side in, you managed to unlock the door. You turned to look at him, giving him a toothy grin.

"Learned that from Pit Pocketing for Dummies, 101."

Bucky rolled his eyes at that. You just sniggered as you opened the door, greeted by cool air smacking against your face.

It made you shiver.

Because, unlike Bucky, you did not have any of that good ole supersoldier serum in your veins.

You were a mutant that could control water. Sometimes, you wished that you had the ability to control fire, because then, at least you could be warm in such dire situations such as these.

Taking your shoes off and putting them at the door, you surveyed the place.

It was a small house. Like a cozy little cottage. Probably only had at least two rooms at the max. It certainly gave off that vibe. There was a fireplace in the living room. A fully furnished kitchen, complete with a little wooden table with benches instead of individual chairs near the window.

Your grip on your bag of clothes became tighter as you realized that you needed to take a shower. Your stomach grumbled, alerting Bucky that you were hungry. Your comms had died. The two of you could contact no one until you charged them.

Which meant for at least tonight, or whenever the snowstorm outside stopped, you only had Bucky Barnes for company.

Well. That certainly would be pleasant.

"Go and shower first. I'll make dinner."

***

After your shower, you walked back into the kitchen, your sweet smell that reminded Bucky of deserts that his Ma used to make for him and his younger sisters back in Brooklyn drifted towards his nose. Thanks to the serum, he had already smelled it a mile away.

Cinamon rolls. Apple turnovers. Apple pies. Pumpkin pies. Bucky felt his Alpha rumble at the smell. Even Winter stirred at the familiar scent he loved so much.

When Bucky had gotten the trigger words wiped away from him due to Princess Shuri's genius, the Winter Soldier hadn't gone away from him. Rather, Winter had become a part of Bucky. Winter had been what Bucky became to survive Hydra. Winter was Bucky, only darker. More possessive. The deepest, darkest thing of him that the Wakandan Elders had helped him find again and reconcile with.

It was during times like this, making dinner in the kitchen that reminded him so much of his time back in Wakanda. Taking care of his farm and his pet goats, (that he sadly couldn't bring back with him when coming back to America), that he missed the most. It was domestic, in a way. He could almost feed into the fantasy, the thought that you were his Omega, his Bondmate, and that he was just making dinner for you.

From an outsider's perspective, it might've looked like Bucky didn't like you. That he just tolerated you. Treated you like how he treated everyone else in his life.

But it was the contrary.

He liked you.

He liked you very, very much. Other than Steve, Natalia, and heck, even the winged pigeon- you were one of the only people to truly understand him. You were probably even on the same playing field as Natalia, because you knew what it was like to be controlled by the Russian government. You held him at an arm's length at most, and you never treated him like he was some fragile, broken man. When you treated his wounds, you never fretted like other Omega's. Nor did you dottle. Ask him if he was okay every five seconds. It was disappointing in a way.

Bucky turned his head, just as you hopped yourself onto the counter, away from the conduction stove.

The smell of butter pasta was filling your nose. You watched with rapt attention as Bucky shut off the stove, grabbed the freshly grated cheese, and dumping it in. To hell with calories. Stirring quickly for a few seconds, he stopped. Turning his head to look at you, he gave you a low smirk. His scent of something sandalwood, oceany filling your nose. It made your Omega preen.

"Get some bowls, will ya doll? And forks too." Hopping off of the countertops, he heard a chirping, yet sarcastic reply.

"Yes, Sarge."

He felt his pants tighten at the thought. Hearing you grab all of the stuff, he swallowed.

Not that he would tell you that.

No.

Never.

***

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking with me."

So, as luck would have it. There weren't two bedrooms.

Nope.

There was only one.

Not only that, the entire room was fully furnished. A closet was on the left side of the door, against the wall. There was a window and just a bit to right, in the middle of the room, was a queen-sized bed, all made up with all the fluffiest blankets, comforters, and pillows imaginable.

"And you're sure this is the only room?" Bucky said. "Yeah! It's the only one, James. It's either this or the couch. And I'm not sleeping on the couch. It's too cold. Whoever built this safehouse didn't have any heaters built in either. Fuck, is this how I die? Freezing to death?" Your voice was getting higher with concern.

Bucky just rolled his eyes.

"No, doll. You're not to freeze to death. We're going to share that bed."

You turned your head towards him like he had just grown a second head. "What?" you exclaimed. "No. No, no, no. Noooo. James. Nu-uh. Uh-uh. I'm not going to sleep with you in my tank top and underwear. the least you've seen me in is a pair of short shorts and a tank top."

Bucky inhaled deeply through his nostrils.

Get yourself together Barnes.

Don't throw her over your shoulder.

Don't do that.

"You're a water mutant, doll. You're not a fire mutant. You aren't a supersoldier either. I'm not letting you freeze to death. I'll keep you warm all night. Better yet, don't sleep in your tank top and shorts. Our body heats will do just fine." Bucky snapped at you. You were still trying to collect your thoughts.

And then the realization, the reality of your situation, smacked you right across the face.

Bucky was asking you to sleep naked.

With him.

In the same frigging bed together.

Oh you were going to die. You were going to die and go up to wherever other spirits went to after they died. You weren't really all that religious nor spiritual.

But tonight though?

Yeah. Maybe you believed. Maybe a little.

Just the slightest bit.

"Okay, okay," you grumbled, "I won't wear any clothes. Better yet, I'll even give you a show. That'll even out the odds, James."

***

Warm.

He was just oh so warm.

Your back was flush against his front, feeling skin-on-skin.

You had stopped shivering about an hour ago.

Bucky had scouted the safehouse, to see if there was actually a heater, in case you had missed anything.

Nope.

There were no heaters in the safehouse.

Absolutely none.

Not to mention, all of the blankets weren't as thick. From what Bucky had observed a few hours ago after dinner while you had tackled the task of doing the dishes, was that the safe house had been abandoned for a while. It was either that, or nobody had stocked this place up for a while.

He had chosen the latter.

With his strong arms wrapped around your stomach, he pulled you close. You were asleep. Dead asleep. Bucky felt and saw your body rise up and down as you slept, your breaths all evened out.

It was nice, almost. Outside was quiet. Bucky could hear other than your breathing only the soft wind blowing due to the snowstorm outside.

For a moment, Bucky was lulled into a sense of calm. His mind was clear. His Alpha and Winter were quiet. He didn't have to fret. Or look over his shoulder. Didn't have to second guess himself or his actions anymore.

And then he heard it.

Soft whimpers coming from the sweet-smelling Omega that he was currently holding in his arms. You had begun to squirm, arms thrashing out. Your legs smacked on his knees, trying to desperately claw yourself free from his tightening grip on you.

"... I'll be good... just don't chuck me in the freezer again... please sir... I hate it there... please don't chuck me in the freezer, please..." you were sobbing in your sleep. You started to blubber, continually trying to claw yourself out of Bucky's grip. The metal plates of his Vibrainum arm shifted as his metal fingers tightened around your stomach. Bucky knew not to apply too much pressure on you- you weren't like him, Steve, or Natalia. You didn't have the serum in you.

"Doll? Hey, doll. C'mon, wake up. It's not real." Bucky tried shaking you awake to no avail. You had continued to thrash in his arms.

Sniffling loudly, your Omega was thrashing in her cage, in the confines of your mind. She was whispering, yelling at you to wake up.

"Omega. Wake up."

Bucky didn't mean to use his Tone. But you were being so hysterical, shaking, and crying to the point where it was beginning to worry him. Your sweet scent had begun to twist and turn into something more burnt. Singed. It made his eyes water.

You stopped thrashing in his grip. Your body froze up at his use of his Tone. Your Omega stopped throwing her temper tantrum too. She had paused for a second.

Her Alpha had given her a Command.

So why wouldn't she listen?

Peering from her cage in the confines of your mind, she sighed happily.

Alpha. Alpha cares about us. She whispered in your ear.

Slowly returning to consciousness, you struggled to know where you were for a second.

You had been having a nightmare.

A full-fledged nightmare.

You hadn't had one of those in a while.

"... Where am I?" Your voice was gentle but confused.

You still didn't know if you were still in that godforsaken Hydra facility or not. But you just wanted to make sure.

"Here, doll. You're here with me. We're in Ohio, remember? Sharin' one bed together cause I don't wanna be a bad Alpha and letcha freeze to death." Bucky said.

You couldn't help it. You snuggled into him, hearing a deep rumble coming from his chest. Bucky's Alpha was pleased. Very pleased. Winter was quiet. Which surprised Bucky. The little shit was usually more vocal about his own needs these days.

For a moment, it felt okay. You felt that weird fog lifting. Your brain slowly settling in your current surroundings. Your sweet, filling scent that had twisted and burnt into something smoky and burnt was slowly wearing off.

You were still a little shaken up. You could still hear your screaming echoing in your head. Your voice trembling, and because you didn't know if you were still stuck in the facility, "How long?"

"Not long."

Bucky watched as you lifted your head up, blinking once. And then twice. And then again, just to be sure.

Your body felt like it still wasn't physically here. Your body still felt like it was back in the cryo chamber, stuck in that damn freezer. Bucky watched your chest heave up and down. Taking in deep breaths.

Then you flopped right back into your previous spot, your back facing his front. Bucky pulled you back with his metal arm. You heard the metal plates in his arm readjust and move. You couldn't help it. Your vagina throbbed at the sound. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wiggled a little bit.

A deep rumble had come from Bucky.

The metal-armed Alpha had pushed a little bit of his weight down on you. Making you feel all warm and safe with the sandalwood and salty scent wrapped all around you like a cocoon.

You wiggled up against him again, trying to get comfortable. Your eyes closed.

A deep groan came from Bucky.

Was he asleep?

You stopped moving.

Another groan came from Bucky. His arms were wrapped around you. Not tightly, but still. It was kinda nice in a way. You could feel every muscle on his broad chest against your back.

Maybe Bucky had the right idea to sleep naked after all.

You shifted again. Trying to wiggle out a little out of the embrace.

A deep growl rumbled from Bucky. His grip on you tightened. You squirmed against him again.

Voice gravelly, "Stop moving."

Your eyes flew open.

He was awake.

And you had been-

Letting out a hiss, Bucky pushed his entire weight onto you and grinded his half-hard cock against your ass cheeks. Not even caring about if his entire weight would crush you, because of the serum.

He saw red.

Pure absolute red.

You choked. A needy little whimper filled the room.

Bucky's metal hand traveled down, all the way down to your pussy, his knee pushing your legs apart. You were panting in anticipation, eyes wide as saucers. His metal fingers were shoved deep, all the way to the knuckles. A pitiful whine left your lips. A needy whine too.

When he entered you, a choked sob escaped from your lips. Your hands curled into fists, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the formerly brainwashed assassin let out a growl.

"So sick and tired of you teasin' me," was what the former Winter Soldier growled under his breath, hissing at the way your cunt wrapped around him. Slick was smeared around your inner thighs, and you couldn't help but sob at the feeling of being so full.

Bucky was groaning above you, his hands nearing shaking.

Never had he ever thought he could ever get to do this again.

Because Bucky very much still liked sex. He very much so was a sexual creature. Being inside you gave him flashes of his life before Hydra. It made him remember a much skinner, smaller Steve. A much duller, war-stricken Brooklyn. It made him remember the giggles of Omegas. It made him remember his Ma's cooking growing up. Rebecca's giggles in his ears. Just like the old times.

Not for the first time in his life, he didn't feel trapped.

He felt free.

This was freeing to him.

And when he began to move, position his hips against your back, smacking roughly. Good enough to leave marks in the morning.

Wet, squishing noise echoed noisily every time he bottomed out of you. Every thrust in, filling you, completing you. It sent you gasping and crying out into the pillows. His hands- both metal and flesh, reached under you, to grab ahold of your breasts in a tight grip that only made you sob for more.

"More, more, more, please James, please-"

Something snapped in him.

Broke.

Bucky had never felt this feral before. The last time he felt this feral had been the hours when he first presented.

You whined loudly when he slid out of you, crying out at the empty feeling. Your Omega screeched in alarm.

Why had her Alpha stopped? Why?

Grabbing ahold of your legs, he lifted them up. Before he thrusted back in again, filling you up to the brim. It was deeper than last time, and his cock hit that spongy part. Hit your g-spot so good that you screamed into the pillows.

You were coming. You were coming so fast, that deep coil inside you snapping like a bomb wire being cut that you never got the chance to feel your programs. Your body jolted, spasmed. Your legs lifted off of the bed or at least tried to. Bucky's body weight was still keeping you down. So all you could do was grip the bedsheets when Bucky started to pound into you again, taking all he could.

You couldn't help yourself. You glanced back, just to take a glimpse of him.

James Buchanan Barnes looked downright feral and your pussy clenched around him deeper at the sight. as if she knew.

Every thrust made him go deeper, hitting your cervix every time. It made your second orgasm piggyback off of your first one, sobbing into the pillows. It was only when your second orgasm came, your walls clenching down onto his cock that Bucky's teeth sank into your shoulder, shattering, breaking the skin there. The taste of copper filling his mouth. Bucky let out a grunt as he came. Filling you up with so much of his jizz that he was sure it would drip from you tomorrow morning.

Bucky lifted his mouth from your shoulder.

Pants filled the room as the two of you tried to regain yourselves.

Bucky shifted, moving off of you and lying beside you. His eyes weren't black anymore. They were back to their normal blue. They reminded you of the sea in the morning on a peaceful day.

Your hand came to touch his face. Your hand faltered, trembled though. Because you were nervous.

"It's okay," his voice was deeper, huskier. It made your pussy throb. "You can touch me. It's okay."

Your hands came to touch, cup his jaw. You leaned in, pressing your lips against his. His lips were soft. Your lips moved together, his tongue slipping into your mouth. The kiss became deeper. You hadn't expected it to become deeper. You had been just going for an innocent kiss.

You swore.

Like- you really did.

You didn't expect to be fully making out with James Buchanan Barnes.

But it wasn't like you were complaining though.

Because you weren't.

Bucky was the first one to pull away. He could see how red, bruised your lips looked. He didn't recoil from your gentle touch on his face. He welcomed it. He truly did. Hands holding your hips, he looked at you.

His lips traveled down to your mating gland. He touched over it with his tongue, giving it a broad lick. His teeth sank in, piercing the skin.

Your ears popped. You cried out. His grip on your hips didn't falter.

"Yes, yes, yes," you gasped. Bucky lifted his mouth up from your gland, before sinking his teeth back in and biting again. Making his mark all that deeper.

It was only when he lifted his mouth from your gland, wiped your blood off of him with the blanket did you come at him, sinking your teeth into his gland. It made him grunt, even groan. His flesh hand came to your head, pushing your head down, making you sink your teeth even deeper into his gland.

"Yesss," hissed Bucky, his flesh hand sinking into your hair, gripping it. "Deeper, doll. Go deeper."

Winter and his Alpha completely agreed.

Theirs.

You were theirs.

After what seemed an eternity, you lifted your head up. Wiping your mouth on the blanket, you spoke.

"I missed you. What did you do to get us paired on this mission? I thought I was going with Sam," you said to your Alpha. A smirk stretched over Bucky's lips. "Ah," your Alpha said, still smirking, "I might've put something in his drink to make him vomit his guts out. He got sick."

A noise came from you.

"You gave him food poisoning? James!" You scolded him. Bucky leaned back against the headboard. "Don't worry doll, it'll wear off when we come back to the Compound. Bird Brain won't even know what hit him."

You shook your head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable, Sasha. Did you teach Natalia that trick, too? Hmm? She and all of your Widow students?"

Bucky was still grinning ear to ear at you when he responded back.

"Well little bird, someone had to teach them. After all, I was their teacher. They all called me Yasha. Speaking of my Widow students..." he trailed off in Russian. You looked at him.

"You've contacted one of the KBG? About that leaked Russian tape with the orange man that is, unfortunately, our President?" He asked you. You nodded. "Yeah, Sasha. Everything's going as planned. Although, I think assassinating the orange man would've been a much better option. We would've gone in there and made it a done deal by now! Fuckin' Steve and his righteous self." You grumbled unhappily.

"Hmm. It would've been great as a date night. Don't you think, doll?" Bucky drawled. You gave a serious nod.

"Although... seeing him freak out on Twitter is much, much better. The tea is better when it's hot." You grinned. Bucky just let out a sigh.

"I'm restricting your phone privileges. And your TV privileges. You need to stop watching those drama channels, Mega."

A noise of deep discomfort came from you.

"Sasha!" you whined, "then what will I do while you're gone on missions?"

"Wait for me to come back?" Bucky suggested. You just sighed. Even shook your head in fondest. You happily snuggled up to your Alpha, your nose rubbing up against your Mate's gland. "I always wait for you to come back, Sasha. I wait and I worry. I love you, James."

A deep rumble came from your Mate.

"I love you too, Little Omega."

Your head peeked up.

"So, can we tell the rest of the team when I leak the tape?" You asked, your eyes glimmering with mischief.

Bucky burst out laughing.

"Yes, yes, yes. We can tell them once you've wreaked havoc, Omega."

"Good." You were nodding seriously, in complete agreement. "It'll be fun. And... also, I forgot to tell you."

The joyful expression on Bucky's face was suddenly replaced with one of worry.

"What? What is it?" He asked gently. "When you were gone for your last mission two months ago... I... I came off of my suppressants. I'm ready, James. I want a family with you."

Shock flickered over Bucky's face. And then he was shoving you back into the bed with a shriek coming from you.

"When's your pre-heat?" He demanded.

You felt it. A cramp. It made you whimper.

"N-Now, James. Now," you stammered. Your Alpha pulled your legs apart roughly before he thrusted back into you, making you gasp.

"Say it," he hissed. "Say you want it. Say you want my knot. Say you want my pups."

"I want it, James." Your voice was a low whisper, even staggering a little bit. "I want your knot. I want your pups. Please. Please, Sasha."

His hands, both metal, and flesh gripped your shoulder tight as that vein of his neck nearly popped. His eyes were black with want. Soon, his Rut would be upon him and he'd breed you. Put his pup in you. You'd carry his pup. He'd have the pack that Winter and his Alpha desperately wanted after all these years.

A whine came from you when he pulled out, only to let out a scream when he thrusted back in. Hitting that part of you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth fell open, but no words came out.

His pace was brutal, not even letting you hold onto him. Your hands were left to grip the bedsheets again. You gripped them so tight that your knuckles turned white and you thought that they were going to pop.

Bucky continued to push, continued to shove his ejaculate deeper and deeper inside of you. A mixture of your slick and his ejaculate smeared all over your thighs and trickled down your legs, and you just didn't know what was happening. Your hindbrain was telling you that this was what was needed. That your designation wanted, nay, demanded this. After all the shit you had gone through, your Omega had found her Alpha and now, now she was determined to have a family. Have the pack she desperately desired.

"Mine."

A harsh thrust made you sob.

"You're mine now. I waited for you for so long. Wanted you for so long. You're mine now. Got my Mark. Got my clothes in your nest. Gonna give you my name. Gonna give you my pups. You're mine. All mine. Say you're mine. Say it!"

You came screaming. Your orgasm making you see white. Bucky continued slamming into you, the wet, squishing noises coming from your pussy becoming louder and louder the more he pushed in. Your teeth sank into his flesh shoulder, shattering and piercing the skin there. You tasted copper in your mouth.

Bucky came with a shout. He shoved you back completely, making you shriek. And then he was leaning in again, sinking his teeth into your gland. Making another deep mark. It made you fall limp into the bed as his knot swelled, locking the two of you in place.

He lifted his head.

Being inside you... knotted inside of you... it was bliss. It was just as good as cockwarming. His cock all nestled deep inside of you whenever you two would sneak off to sleep together.

"Bite me again. Give me your mark, Omega." he panted. Slowly, your head went up, you slowly sat up, before taking in a deep breath and sinking your teeth back into his gland.

Home.

You had brought Bucky home. He held you tight, whispering in your ear how much he loved you and how much of a good Omega you were.

"I love you Omega." His voice was rough.

Lifting your head from his gland. Blood still trickling down the corners of your mouth. You offered him a smile. A genuine one. One that made his stomach all fluttery.

"I love you too, Alpha."

[radley-writes]

hello! do you have any advice for plotting, at all? :D

Indeed, I do!

I call myself 'a discovery writer', by which I mean I fully plot out every single novel, get 1/8 of the way through, throw all that hard work in the bin, and sally off on a choose-your-own-adventure game, replotting as I go. Toot toot.

So, I can plot! I just can't stick to it.

Here's what helps me!

Disclaimer: Don't feel obligated to follow my advice. In fact, if you take one look at it and go '...nah', please don't follow my advice - you'd be doing yourself a massive disservice! There are plenty of other how-to guides out here!

But without further ado... PLOTTING WITH RADLEY!

1) Know where you want to go.

Before creating characters, a world, or indeed anything, I figure out a couple things:

First! The vibes.

What tone do I want from this tale? When readers put down the book, what feelings should linger in their chest?

This goes hand-in-hand with figuring out your target audience and genre, but it's a little more abstract. I usually scrawl down a list of aesthetics, emotions, tropes & key concepts that I want to shine!

So: for Strictly, the list would look something like:

Empowered, angry, hopeful, urban deprivation, class contrasts, city lights at night, smoking rubble, big guns and motorbikes

Whereas for Dressage Dragons, we might have:

Fun, complex family bonds, extravagant wealth, grudging friends, dry tinderland in summer, dusty heaths, one spark away from a forest fire...

Second! The ending.

I always, always, always know my climax, before I go in. I need to know what I'm aiming for! Even if my entire plot twists around on itself as I write, that climactic final scene stays the same.

What's the big WOW image at the end that I want to stick in readers' heads? A huge cinematic fight? A devastating betrayal? An agonising choice?

Third! Character beats!

I work out each character's plot-purpose before I flesh them out as people. That way, you get interesting, well-rounded characters whose role in the story feels organic - rather than incredibly well thought-out, deep characters who you then have to build a plot around!

Some people find it easier to work in the other direction. I totally get why - if your characters only exist to hit plot points, they might wind up reading less as 'people', more as 'balls in a giant game of ping-pong'.

My trick is to only paint the bold strokes of their story. I still leave the characters space to develop naturally as I write, but from the moment they're conceived, I know they're going to be the sort of person who, say, will choose vengeance over saving a friend, but will feel horribly guilty about it, change their mind, and go back to save their friend in the nick of time, just before it's too late.

(Or I just plot out their arcs fully, and then ignore all of this as I write 😎)

Generally, I like to look at the climactic end scene, get a vague idea for who the characters involved might be, and work backwards from that point to figure out how they wound up there - and what they lost or gained along the way!

2) get visual!

I never plot on a laptop. I have a load of big old sketchbooks, so I open 'em up and mindmap it out.

A word document will encourage you to think in a very linear, coherent, chronological sort of way.

My brain is none of those things.

So, I toss shit at a wall (metaphorically) and see what sticks. I splooge ideas onto a big sheet of paper, then get out the red thread and thumbtacks and piece it all together.

(exclusive candid image of my plotting process ^^^)

It's so easy to get stuck when you're staring at a blank word document. Lying belly-down on the floor, grabbing sparkly glitter pens and crayons, and going to town on a big sheet of paper? Far easier. Tap into your inner three-year-old and watch the magic happen.

3) Don't be afraid to let an idea marinate.

I'm currently writing two books I've had on my backburner since I was 11. It wasn't 'the time' for those books then. It is now.

There's no rush, unless you're on a contractual deadline. If you can't wrangle a plot together, there’s no shame in putting it in the slow cooker and letting it simmer while you focus on something shinier!

That's all, folks~

Best of luck!

[princeanxious]

:) so. No one ordered it, but, I have an Logan Angst(w/ hurt/comfort to balance it out a little) au idea to deliver!

So you know those AU fics w/ Virgil where he hides smth unusual abt himself( Like wings, Spider limbs, Being unusually tall, ect.) Bc he’s afraid of what the others will think/do if they find out?

Take that and apply it to Logan, But he’s actually been hiding it ever since (AU)!Thomas became Obsessed with Marine Biology as a kid!(i genuinely cant remember what Thomas's real life degree was gonna be b4 he switched to YouTube but for the au's sake im going with marine biologist)

What’s he hiding, you ask? Fish scales, of course!

(Continued under the cut)

Logan used to wear long sleeves all the time, and Sherlock bit with the scarf was a cover up for when he used to wear it constantly when they were younger, not that Virgil(who has spider traits in this but never thought to hide them b4 he was accepted, and by that point there was no reason to) nor any of the other dark sides with animal traits knew about it either, but his body, especially his legs and hips, were covered in shimmery sapphire blue scales, and in patches around the gills on his neck and ribs.

Why doesn't Logan wear long sleeves now? Because the scales suddenly stopped reappearing (coincidentally right around the time Thomas gave up on marine biology to do youtube) on his arms the few times they'd accidentally been pulled off some how, be it bumps/scrapes or eventually Logan getting fed up w/ the illogicalness of it all and 'removing' the rest on his arms so that he could finally wear short sleeves and not raise more questions about his health.

The scales around the gills on his neck are more tragic, as they do regrow still, to keep his gills safe. He plucks them as close to the gills as possible, before wearing masking makeup & a high collar with a tie to ensure his gills never peak out from his shirt.

It limits his normal comfortable way of breathing, but hes been doing it so long that he doesnt remember what it feels like, and thus isn't bothered by it anymore, as his gills dont open up fully anymore unless submerged under water for a long period of time.

Why is he so insistant about thomas drinking the healthy recommended amount of water? Because if Logan didn’t, he'd suffer migraines and get sick from being dehydrated in easily less than half the time it'd take for Thomas or any of the others to reach

Why doesnt he ever go swimming with the others? Because if he did, there's no gaurantee his body would let him leave the water after refusing to so much as even soak in a bathtub for years at this point

Hell, his body might even go into shock at that point.

No idea how his reveal would go, but the idea of the others spraying him with water spray bottles when he is over-dry and resultingly irritable has been brought up as an additional idea by @this-is-ske(my lovely frien who lets me info dumb abt all my aus so we can shout abt them together) and my only thought is that Logan is spiteful and petty enough to snatch a spray bottle and spray them right back.

He often needs to spray himself with water, even if he’d had a shower not two hours ago, because his scales dry out very quickly and its sensory hell in combination with even the softest of dress pants.

But the years of neglect slowly turned his shimmery sapphire blue scales into dulled greyblue, as a result from being dried out and flakey and unhealthy for so long.

He tries not to think about it too hard when he's forced to look at them.

Remus wouldn’t hesitate to toss post-reveal(and post-recovery)! Logan full out into a fucking pool, or just hop into one and drag him in with. "Dry Fishies are irritated fishies, be like me! Get wet and feel better!" *Cue Remus eye brow waggle that reflects to the rest of his tentacle arms*

No but srsly remus and janus finding iut and going "oh HELL no" bc janus knows what its like to not take care of your scales properly and Remus knows what its like to dry out.

Imagine the additional angst when Janus finds out not only about the scales but the gills on his ribs and neck too, and feels SUPREMELY guilty bc of the crook yank he did

"Its fine, its not like I could breath out of them anymore, they just bruised a bit longer" *even more concerned and upset Janus noises*

"What do you mean you cant breath out of them anymore!"

" ..One day they just wouldn't open? Sort of like the equivalent of a stuffed nose, except that they never reopened because they'd fully dried out, I think."

"I swear to god Logan I wish I could strangle you," *cue Janus wapping Logan w/ a rolled up paper, Edna Mode style, lecturing* "One day! You'll understand! Self care! Is good! For you!"

Cue them finally bullying Logan into taking care of them but no longer hiding the scales as the ones on his arms start coming back, but still greyblue, bc at this point Logan doesnt even want to deal with the immediate headache of them learning right off the bat that they Shouldnt Look Like That. He doesnt even really believe that they'll ever change back to their once brilliant blue, thinking it just a fluke with their age or something.

It takes months.

And then one day he wakes up, having been sleeping in the imagination with Remus, having indulged in underwater sleeping as a healing therapy, made better only by the fact that Remus is a rly good cuddler, and his tentacles keep them both locked together in the water, *and* one anchors them so they don't drift away in their sleep.

Remus is staring at him, his chest to be exact, where new patches of scales had been growing to meet in the middle around the gills on his ribs. He looks down and notices theres an uneven patch of brilliant blue peaking out from the sea of comparably grey scales. Then he notes that multiple patches of scales are slowly regaining their hue. It doesn't take long for the others to put two and two together about sick fish with dull scales. It confirms Logan had been sick for Years, and was only Just healing to a beginning state of equilibrium.

For some comfort w/ all this angst, when Logan does see his blue scales for the first time? He smiles, he smiles so wide at Remus. Remus probably falls in love with the way Logan's gills flare out prettily in time with Logan's smile. Logans finally convinced to take care of himself, and the first glimpse of progress has him Beaming for Days.

[ssson-of-sparda]

Fathers Do Cry (DMC Vergil one shot)

Summary: Vergil remembers his last Father's Day with Sparda and doesn't really realise how similar to him he has become.

Tags: Father's Day special / DADGIL! / Vergil acting like a dad to Nero

Author’s note: I woke up this morning suddenly inspired. Doesn't happen very often so enjoy ;) ps: I just love Dadgil!

***

His big blue eyes staring without blinking, the child was observing his father sitting by the fireplace in the parlour. Full of admiration, he was detailing all the features of his serious face, all the details of his confident posture and all the different luxurious fabrics that made his purple finery and as he did, he repeated to himself, wished, prayed, that someday, one day, he would grow up to be just like him.          “Aren’t you going to speak, Vergil?” The father’s powerful voice asked as he finally acknowledged the boy’s presence with a small amused smile, wondering what brilliant thoughts were occupying his eldest son’s sharp mind this time.            “I made this for you, father.” With a solemnity that didn’t suit a five-years-old but that somehow fitted Vergil’s young yet wise spirit and his will to be perfect son in the eyes of Sparda, the boy handed a paper sheet to his father.         “ And what would that be?” The man said as he took his son’s gift. “It’s father’s day so … I made you a poem… or tried to.” The adorable embarrassment tensing the child’s traits in funny grimaces made the father's smile wider but Vergil, suddenly too preoccupied with the blue paint stuck under his fingernails, didn’t notice it as he didn’t notice the paternal pride and the love shining in his eyes.               “I thought your mother wanted you and your brother to make a gift together this year.” “ You know Dante” Vergil sighed. “He has no artistic talent whatsoever. He wanted to make you a wooden sword to play with us.”    “ That’s actually a very good idea.”  Vergil frowned; suddenly worried that Sparda would not like his gift and preferred Dante’s – if he had made one of course. “Except when the sword looks like two twigs glued together. You should have seen this, father. It looked ri.di.cu.lous.” Sparda laughed at his son’s attitude, finding amusement in this sibling rivalry. “Why don’t you read me your poem then?”              “ I learnt it by heart actually. The paper is for you to remember this day by … and also because I wanted to illustrate it. Look.” Vergil approached his father, seized the poem from his big hands and climbed on his lap to show him the delicate aquarelle he had painted around the lines. “Impressive. Did your mother help you with this?” Vergil shook his head. “No, I did it on my own. I used a book I saw in that old man’s house I often go to as a reference.”       “ The old academic that lives down the hill? I thought you found him boring.” Vergil shook his head again, furiously this time and with a serious frown. “That’s Dante. Me, I really like him. He teaches me a lot of things. And he has lots of books. It’s incredible.”

Sparda ruffled his son’s silver hair whose hairdo was always made in order to somehow mimic his, thinking what a promising young boy Vergil was. Maybe more promising than Dante to be honest – though he knew he shouldn’t think that.   But there was something that Vergil had that Dante lacked. Perhaps rationality beyond his age … or some kind of maturity … wisdom maybe? He couldn’t really pinpoint what it was exactly. All he knew is that it was something unique and special, just like his son, something that made Sparda certain that one day his eldest would grow up to be a great man, a man greater than him, a man worthy of the Yamato and capable of handling its burdening power.

“Can I recite my poem now?” Sparda smiled at the sparkle in Vergil’s eyes. “Sure.” The boy quickly took back his previous position in front his father, cleared his throat, put his hands behind his back and stuck out his chest.

Sparda listened to every word, fascinated and amazed by his little one’s talent and profoundly moved by all the love, all the meticulousness and the time he put in each line and in each word. “Oh Vergil. The world is not yet ready for someone like you.” The father said as he let a tear roll down his cheek. “Why are you crying, father?” Vergil worried. “Because fathers cry, my son.”

That day was the last time Vergil truly celebrated Father’s day for a few weeks later he had no father, no one to make poems to, no one to admire by the fireplace. Just a memory that he feared would sooner or later fade but that he would cling to dearly for as long as he could.

“Why don’t we bring flowers to Daddy’s statue in the park today?” Eva asked when Vergil was six, when Vergil was seven, when Vergil was eight only to be welcome by a heavy silence that was no longer hiding brilliant thoughts but a painful sadness. But each time he did as Eva suggested, maybe more for her than for him, maybe because he still loved and admired Sparda even if he had left him, maybe because he thought that his father might see him and smile from wherever he was now, the same way he had smiled when he had read him his poem on his last father’s day.

And that’s certainly why, more than three decades later, he was back in this park, on this very special day with a bouquet of purple peonies he had bought on his way here and a memory that never faded. A memory he could still recite.

"Whether the sun shines or the sky cries,                 Whether the day breaks or the night wakes,       My father always as a rampart stands Protecting my house with his bare hands.

He is strong, he is brave                 And the day he always saves.     A knight in cockroach armor     To scare my terror away."

Vergil scoffed at the lines, at the way they rolled off his tongue, finding them funny and childish and not worthy of a Blake or a Fielding at all unlike what he thought when he wrote them as a child. The over-confidence of youth probably.

“Did you just come up with that?” Vergil turned around to see Nero walking towards him with a smirk. A surprise but not a bad one. “Cause the rhyming sucks a little. I expected more of you.”                “ And I suppose you’re an expert in poetry now?”         “ I may read have read one of your books.” He said as he tapped the pocket of his marine blue coat hiding Vergil's most sacred book with pride. “You still have it I see.”     “Hey! It’s a real page turner! Can’t get my nose out of it.” Vergil had a crooked smile, understanding perfectly what his son meant.

Son? Even a year after this reveal he still couldn’t believe this boy before him, the one he had lived such a terrifying yet incredible adventure with, was his own flesh and blood.

A sigh almost escaped Vergil’s lips. How did he make such a fine young man? Someone so selfless, so generous, so loving when he was nothing like that.              “ What are you doing here, Nero?” He asked, trying not to think more about this.      “ Well it’s father’s day, no? So … I made you something… or tried to.” The embarrassed grimace Nero suddenly made made Vergil’s smile grew larger but Nero, too worried to keep the gift covered with the pieces of newspapers he had taped together, didn’t see it as he didn’t see the paternal pride and the love shining in his father’s blue eyes. The same paternal pride Sparda had displayed when Vergil was a little child with a small paper in his hands.  “Thank you Nero.” The man said as he gently took the present from his son's hands, wondering what it was even though the long shape didn’t leave much place for imagination.

He cautiously unwrapped the thing, already feeling a happiness he hadn’t felt in years warming his heart. And when he saw a katana-like wooden sword that purposely looked like Yamato he couldn’t help but smile and let a tiny drop of water blur his blue eyes. “It was Dante’s idea. Though he might have suggested gluing two sticks together.” Nero said as he scratched his head. “It looks amazing.” Vergil’s honesty was like a knife in Nero’s chest but in a good way. It was as if all the stress and all the stupid fear he had felt while making this toy sword had been stabbed away. He felt relieved, joyful even that his always so stern father was genuinely grateful and seemed to appreciate his gift. “That way, you won’t have to tear my arm apart again cause look, you have two now.” Nero tried to joke but his words just erased the smile on Vergil’s face.

“There is not a single day I don't regret what I did to you.” This was Vergil’s way to say he was sorry. Nero was certain of it. He didn’t need to know his father that well to know it. After all, he was somewhat the same. “Hey, it’s in the past. Plus it grew back, so no harm done.” He winked, trying to ease the atmosphere with a bad pun worthy of Dante even though there was a time he would have ripped Vergil’s chest open for what he had done. And a part of him knew he would never forget and maybe never fully forgive what happened.               But right now he was just happy to have a family, to have a father and to finally be able to celebrate a day he has so long hated.  “ This world doesn’t deserve you, son.” Vergil solemnly declared. He had never called Nero that way and that name felt strange yet beautiful to both of them. It made the son and the father smile in ways they never thought they would smile at each other. “ Damn, are you crying old man? I thought devils never cry.” Nero suddenly harrumphed when he finally noticed the water growing in his father's eyes.                   “ Well, fathers do cry." Vergil declared as he allowed a tear of joy and pride to fall along his pale cheek. The first in a very very long time but one he will never regret or brush away. "Father do cry.” He repeated with a glance at the statue of his father behind him.